#and even more time i get to spend talking to police and insurance | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

alexanderflowerbird · 13 days ago

Text

DAY 15 AND 16

Sheesh... busy busy busy. Yesterday I didn't get to this because my sister and her partner and my sweet little niece were over and spending time with them was my top priority for the evening. My sister only lives an hour away, but between work and gas prices and her having a new baby, it can be hard to make sure we see each other as often as we'd like to. My niece is SO cute and SO loud and she loves to be bounced and sang to and she loves looking at lights and she kicks ass in her dreams and she smiles, and I am honestly obsessed with her. BESOTTED. She is so cute and sweet and I can't wait to know her better as she grows up.

Seeing my sister is wonderful too, our relationship has been very complicated, painful and off and on for much of our lives, but I'm hopeful we've finally hit a place where we can consistently be good to each other. She's an amazing mother and I have been banned more than once from crying about how proud I am of her lol. I'm the sappy, emotional sibling, and it shows when we're together, but I can tell as much as my sister doesn't wanna be sappy about stuff, she is glad to see me too and loves me back, and that's sufficient.

Today, I'm getting this done early because I don't wanna get too far behind and I have so much to take care of today. Having a single day of actual weekend REALLY sucks, let me tell you. I have to do laundry and errands and cleaning and all my grown up shit on Saturday even though it's my only day off, because I prefer to then go to work and come home and relax on Sunday then to relax all of Saturday and have Sunday be a very stressful jam packed kick off to my next week. Anyway- I'm going to the library at some point to drop off books and pick up new ones, and then I need to go and once and for all empty out my storage unit.

My husband and I are coming up with a game plan to get me to where he is, and at the base of that strategy? Money, honey. So changing my ridiculously high insurance for a more affordable option and getting rid of this extra bill where I keep stuff that is mine but I never look at or think about is a change in the right direction towards saving buku bucks that will take me home to my man. I think today I'll just give you one extra long excerpt instead of two, I hope you don't mind! Have a whole chapter, in fact. New Faith Chapter 8, to be specific. Oh! And my word count at the half way mark is 22,225 so we're doin' great and well on our way to 30k

Taglist: @thelittlestspider @theskeletonprior @badscientist @tragedycoded If you'd like to be part of my taglist, please interact with this post

Mercutio can feel the anger radiating off of Vincente like he’s personally responsible for the hottest day in summer. He isn’t helping cool the blaze with his ‘and what are you going to do about it’ expression, but luckily he was wrong about the idea of Vincente wringing his neck. That’s probably because he was only recently strangled and shaking Mercutio by his neck won’t change the fact that he spilled to a cop of all people. Vincente has already given him the spiel, chastizing him like a child about his rashness and how police are only ever trouble, how Deputy Thompson is a cop and a white man and a nuisance and will likely come back to throw Mercutio in jail until he figures out what “really happened” like cops always do when faced with things their tiny cop brains can’t explain. Vincente is usually only quietly judgemental towards people, he tries to be graceful and act as though he’s got no room to judge other people’s vices, but with cops? All the cheek turning goes out the window. It’s a little gratifying, watching Vincente make a hypocrite of himself while roaring up a sermon of ‘Cops suck’ and ‘What were you thinking’ and ‘This will cause us so much trouble’. They’re already in so much trouble, it hardly makes a difference at this point. This is exactly how he wanted to react when Vincente admitted to talking to Bishop Vigil, so he can only manage to be indignant when Vincente goes off like a flash bang. He keeps almost finishing his ranting and then looks at Mercutio, perched on his couch with a mug of coffee looking very intentionally smug and unmoved and it starts him back up again on a myriad of new points to hold against Mercutio for doing something so stupid. Mercutio would normally be moved by parts of this, riled by others, but he is honestly so tired that all of Vincente’s words roll down his back like the broiling heat of his anger.

“Even if he believes you, he’s going to latch himself to you and expect you to be his expert guidance on this. We don’t have the answers yet on why this is happening and we can’t afford to have a-... a novice following us around demanding answers. He’s probably never even seen the things we’ve seen, Mercutio, what were you thinking to involve someone from here, a cop from a place like this who’s probably only ever seen a dead cow or dog?” It’s funny that Vincente is now acting like he’s concerned for the sanity of Deputy Thompson, but it is a new angle from what he’s said so far and it does prick a little because it’s occurred to Mercutio too that if their town is suffering a mass possession event like the other towns they’ve read about, Deputy Thompson will see more blood and rot and death and horror than he probably ever thought possible. Even if he believes, he won’t be prepared for what will happen. No one can prepare themselves for such things, it’s unnatural.

“I have a theory as to why this is happening,” Mercutio redirects, both to drive away from the discussion of Thompson and to avoid admitting any guilt for involving him. His voice is a little hoarse, he’ll probably end up signing again by the evening, but he wants to try talking and if he’s smoking, which he is, he might as well speak too. “They’re trying to become us.” Vincente looks at him with an exasperated confusion, so Mercutio sighs and continues, “Humans. They’re trying to become human. It’s not possible of course and God knows why they’d want to try and be like us, but that’s what it sounds like based on Dorrance’s note. They’re trying to take the bodies and stay.” When he says it like that it sounds like the plot of a cheesy old sci-fi movie, but he’d spent the morning thinking about it before he came over to Vincente’s to confess about spilling to Deputy Thompson. Manifest destiny. They’re trying to become us. The special part of a person the demons in Alaska were searching for. While Mercutio wishes this revelation hadn’t come on the back of Dorrance’s death, it makes sense to him more than anything else. “If that’s what they’re trying to accomplish, it’s impossible. But before all this, we were sure mass possession was impossible, so. We’re in entirely untread territory here. You wanna run that up to Bishop Vigil?” Mercutio smiles when Vincente glares at him for that little dig, but Vincente only sighs at him and turns on his heel to continue pacing across his living room carpet, which by now surprisingly doesn’t have holes run into it with how many times he’s gone back and forth.

“If you’re right, we have to figure out how to put a stop to it. If we can prevent the mass possessions, we put a stop to the loss of life.” Vincente reasons, rubbing at his chin with a fingertip as though he’s planning a strategy when really, they’re up shit creek without a paddle. Demons trying to inherit the earth? What the fuck are they supposed to do about that? It’s just like Vincente though, to be hopeful and stubborn enough to not realize they’re out of their depth. Mercutio doesn’t have the heart yet to tell him, especially when if he’s right, their town will be the next attempt at this impossible demonic goal and they likely won’t figure out what to do about any of this in time to save anyone. Such a bleak consideration he’ll save for when he absolutely has to say it, when it’s necessary to save Vincente from throwing himself into a losing fight.

“I went digging for more incidents, searched world wide, but it’s only happening here, right now–” Vincente says, Mercutio interjecting, “No surprise there, America sucks and we came up with the whole Manifest Destiny thing anyway,” but Vincente carries on, “Everywhere sucks, but let me finish. There are other incidents, but I was right about what I’d told you before. All the initial victims. They’re women.”

Vincente paces back and forth, pauses, continues, “They’re all female, and old enough technically to have children.” He corrects. Mercutio holds up a thumb and makes a sound of approval.

“Inclusive, well done.”

“If it’s happening here, then we have to start there, looking for people that fit that demographic that are showing… signs of possession. After Dorrance Crawford… His possession would suggest that our initial victim is already possessed, already drawing people in.” He looks particularly troubled to say this, and Mercutio can understand why when this little suburban nest of simplicity is full of people that are in danger of being the ground zero to this strangeness, and many of them Vincente knows, at least adjacently. Mercutio can’t think of anyone off the top of his head, some of his coworkers perhaps, but if that had been the case, he wouldn’t have seen them at work over the two weeks he’d been putting in overtime to avoid Vincente and his own feelings. They’d have been out sick, or sent home for acting strangely. He’d have felt them, certainly, if they’d been in the store… the same way he’d felt Dorrance.

“That’s a needle in a haystack sort of situation.” Mercutio says, trying to be gentle and appropriately grim at the same time. Vincente looks at him sidelong for it. He knows. They both know that the hardest part of their work is that often they only can do the work when things are at their worst. He’s about to say something more when he stops his pacing abruptly, looking out one of the windows that faces the street and shows through the blinds a direct view of Mercutio’s neighbor’s house. Ms. Dorothy’s house. He’s looking at Ms. Dorothy’s house, and the pair of police cars that have pulled up in front of it. Mercutio follows his gaze and is immediately concerned for the old woman, getting up and abandoning his coffee mug to head for the door. Vincente grabs ahold of his elbow then to slow him, and instead directs him bodily to the window to watch as a pair of officers emerge from their cars, regarding each other before heading up the steps of her porch to knock at her door. They eclipse her from view, it seems like some sort of wellness check based on their postures, but Mercutio tenses almost instantly as her dark green door swings open. The feeling comes. The nonsensical constellation of burning he’d felt. It radiates even at this distance, because demons do that– they have reach some how, a bigger, more intense presence than people do. Vincente is still holding onto his arm and his concern pierces into the radiating heat of a demonic presence. The skin contact does that, overrides most anything, and Mercutio is reminded in feeling it cut through that he ought to say right now what he’s feeling.

“Ms.Dorothy’s got it.” He says, because how the fuck else is he supposed to say it. In so many words, she’s got it, whatever it is, dimly, new somehow, more new than Dorrance Crawford, but she’s got it and it’s radiating off of her like a furnace, throwing sparks against Mercutio’s tattoos. Now that he has a chance to feel it without his life in danger, he knows he has to make sense of what he can even if he’s momentarily stricken with fear for Ms.Dorothy. He pulls his arm out of Vincente’s hold and wrenches off his shirt from the nape, touching across his chest, reaching at his back and along his biceps. He has to touch it as a sort of ritual, point to it for himself, to remember where everything is. Vincente watches him intensely, too focused on what he’s said to be squeamish about his suddenly exposed chest. He’s seen this before, after all, seen Mercutio trail over his ink filled skin searching for the exact markings that are ablaze with warning heat. [Do some research here cuz ya know, be religiously respectful you are doing something deeply sacrilegious by writing this in the first place but you might as well get it right if you’re gonna offend a bunch of people lol]

He looks up from examining the votive patchwork of his tattoos to meet Vincente’s gaze and then looks across the street as the officers are turning away to leave Ms.Dorothy alone with this darkness weaning itself into her, oblivious of course, but looking at each other with a veiled, half hearted concern, a repulsion they share but don’t intend to do anything about because they don’t have to do fucking anything, really. Ms. Dorothy watches them from her doorway, and she looks mostly like herself. She looks like she’s herself but she’s ill. There’s an old paper yellowness to her that’s replaced the rosey whiteness of her skin. Mercutio has always thought Ms.Dorothy runs hot, her hands, bony and thin as they are, are always so warm and she’s got a redness to her cheeks and chin and forehead that almost make her look cold-chapped.

Now, that color is replaced with a jaundiced, spoiled cream color that’s only so clearly visible because rather than coming to the door presentable (she’s always quite concerned with being presentable and lovely to look at), she’s in a nightgown of sorts, arms and clavicles and calves exposed, the aging state of her body not hidden away behind frills and knitted sweaters and pearls. Her hair is in disarray, barely kept in a braid of goldish grey that looks like it’s been whipped from her tossing and turning in bed. She normally wears it in a style that would make you think she’s an old Texas bell, high up in the back, teased to perfection, bangs curled and not a hair out of place… Mercutio can’t fathom it, her answering the door like that. She never would, he recognizes instantly- she’d sooner die, than let anyone see her in such a state, and that tells him even more than his tattoos ablaze across his skin that something is terribly wrong. He watches her close up the door, disappearing into the cavernous darkness of her home that is normally full of light, windows open and full up with trinkets. The feeling fades like the ending sting of a sunburn, and he’s only able to tell that it’s different. Still unclear, and not any stronger or more intense than any other demon that’s blazed his flesh, just… different. Disturbingly so.

Vincente is looking at him with an urgent, hopeful concern, and ventures to put his hand on Mercutio’s bare shoulder. Mercutio has to fight not to flinch away as Vincente’s emotions slap his senses and make themselves as clear as words, the skin to skin contact making everything clearer and more vibrant than feeling people at a distance. He’s worried, but not just in the exorcist sense, not just over the state of things and how Mercutio has discovered that Ms. Dorothy is in terrible danger. The feeling is a fractured vein that leads from Mercutio to Ms.Dorothy. Ms.Dorothy is Mercutio’s strange, sweet friend. Ms.Dorothy is someone who, other than Vincente, gives a shit about Mercutio. She buys him things that remind her of him and has him over so she can steal his cigarettes and say she’s getting around to quitting. She’s important to Mercutio in a way most people aren’t because before they settled, letting anyone be more important than by the purest moral standards was to devastate himself needlessly. They saved people because it was the right thing to do and they cared because someone fucking had to. They should help Ms.Dorothy because it’s the right thing to do, period, full stop. But Vincente’s feelings are also right… This is different, and Vincente has recognized that instantly and with such intensity that his gentle touch has poured it on Mercutio like sheets of rain.

“We have to get over there to help her.” Mercutio tells Vincente hoarsely rather than commenting on the emotions that Vincente’s touch allows him to feel unbidden, using the excuse of putting his shirt back on to pull away at last.

“Yes.” Vincente says with all of his holy fortitude packed into the single word. “We should go now.” Mercutio scoffs softly at that and shakes his head.

“We can’t go now, we’re not ready for whatever the fuck that is. We need to go over what we’ve got and figure out a plan. If anything, we should wait and see if she wanders off to the source. Source meaning, whoever the fuck in our town is Jennifer Tomland.” The suggestion tastes like acid coming out of his mouth– he wants to help her now just as much as Vincente does, but he is grasping at the emotional stillness he used to adopt when faced with a situation where due to the victim’s age or circumstances, or just the very hideous nature of what demonic possession does to a body, they might fail. They really, truly might fail Ms.Dorothy, and that brings out this cruel strategy. Vincente’s expression twinges with something akin to disgust before it smooths out, his feelings a skipping stone across Mercutio’s senses from hot, furious righteousness down and down into practical understanding. Mercutio waits patiently for that to happen. It’s alright, it’s really fucked up that he’d say a thing like that– he allows Vincente to find his way past judging him.

“If she doesn’t move by nightfall, we’ll go. And we’re bringing the cop.” Mercutio decides. The blaze of anger comes right back like opening an oven.

“What? Why?” Vincente seethes, exasperated that now of all times Mercutio would bring up the police officer he had so adamantly insisted would make problems for them.

“We need a witness, someone who has at least some medical training- more hands never hurt. You got anyone in mind? Who's a better idea that you can call? Wanna call up the Dowagers and say ‘Hey, sorry but could you call a babysitter and come help us with an exorcism? Ms. Dorothy’s rotting from the inside out and we could really use some extra eyes on the situation.” Mercutio knows he’s being needlessly cruel about it, but once again, Vincente’s feelings swim through different shades of irritation, each becoming more and more rationally driven. The anger doesn’t go away, it’s just compacted by the understanding that Mercutio has the right idea, or at least the best idea they can have given the circumstances. He’d never bring the Dowagers into this part of their lives… Vincente abhors lying and is often pretty fucking bad at it, but he has lied to them for years to keep them clean and safe and to make sure the Dowagers never, ever know that his past is swarming with horrors they can’t even imagine. Mercutio waits for the dust to settle, for Vincente to agree because even if they want to strangle each other a little, they’re a team and he won’t make moves that they don’t agree to. That’s how they lose each other, and in a circumstance like this, it would be how one or both of them might fucking die.

“Fine. Let’s get together what we know and then call the officer. I don’t want to waste precious time explaining to him our methodology. He needs to be prepared to help us keep her alive and that’s all.” Vincente says with a stiff, seething conviction. Mercutio nods and then looks back across the way to Ms. Dorothy’s house. Like this from across the street, it seems so ordinary… A sight he’s seen a thousand times. The fact that what’s happening inside of Ms. Dorothy isn’t flashing like a neon light off of her ivy green house, isn’t turning her white window sills yellow or growing insidious vines all over her porch… It's unnerving, and really unfair. If they hadn’t been looking, they’d not have known until it was too late. He tries not to think of that. They saw, there’s still time.

#original story #writeblr #horror #new faith #fuck nano update

3 notes · View notes

brazenautomaton · 4 months ago

Text

oh here's the missing interstitial / montage scene of Misa showing off how she do and Naomi learning the lesson about paranoia. I am concerned the exposition is too unnaturally dense but don't know if it'd feel any more natural if it was sprinkled in to the dialogue, since Naomi is already making observations

As L, I have a functionally unlimited expense account provided by “the Trust.” But said Trust knows where every dollar goes. We need some money for ourselves, money we can spend on things they don’t know about. Misa makes money from stream subscriptions and donations from playing video games online, but it’s not enough. That’s why Maki-Maru Investigations has come into play.

It turns out I can be a private investigator. It’s not THAT bad. We don’t do marital infidelity investigations, those just made Misa depressed in a way that even murders didn’t. We do just about everything else. We consult with the police sometimes when they need our help -- a setup I learned from an acquaintance in San Francisco. For civilians, we do skip tracing, insurance fraud, corporate sabotage, missing persons, anything the police don’t feel like doing. It’s not like working as L. We get to see things in person, talk to people, gather our own evidence.

Two Asian women, one of whom is outgoing and energetic, the other of whom is scarred and can’t talk, that’s a <i>very</i> distinct profile to fit. There were already stories -- conflicting and fragmentary ones, sure, but stories -- about Misa Amane and her bodyguard in the Kira investigation. But what was I going to do, tell Misa it wasn’t safe and we couldn’t go out because we’d be made? I had to try harder than that. I had buckets of the Trust’s money laying around, that I didn’t want to spend on myself… so I dug up anyone else in media production who was inspired by that story, and I gave them a bunch of money. You self-published a novel, well, here’s enough money to distribute it. You want to shop a script around the major networks, here’s a mysterious backer who wants to fund both NBC and Fox’s pilots. You make indie comics, how would you like a two year contract to write this premise I came up with?

Now, we weren’t the only people who fit this profile. We weren’t the most super popular archetype in the world, but we were a <i>shtick</i> people could recognize and run across. The bodyguard was always mute, so my occasional aphasic stammering just looked like I was slipping up.

Misa appreciated the hell out of being able to go out and do stuff with people, and I didn’t as much as her, but just like with the blood, I appreciated how much she appreciated it. That was enough for me. She got to bounce off of people. I got to see her bounce off of people.

This time, corporate sabotage. Someone in this office had been selling proprietary information to a competitor. The company who hired us expected us to take weeks poring over records and financial statements, but we were going to do it in a couple of hours. Misa was going to do it in a couple hours, with my help. I’m her bodyguard. I’m her bodyguard, and she’s my interpreter, and each of us is the other’s assistant in a way I just think is poetic.

“Hey, everybody!” Misa addressed the group of office workers. “Good morning, good morning, how is everyone doing?” Almost, but not quite, like a motivational speaker. Her Japanese accent was light enough to be easily understood but still distinctly notable. The assembled staff didn’t seem to be having a notable enough day to respond.

It was one of these nine people, the corporate office had told us, so we gathered them in a conference room. Well, it was an open-plan office, so it’s more of a central area surrounded by cubicles. The cubicles could provide ample cover if someone started shooting, but escape would be difficult. I took up standing position just outside, where I had line of sight to the elevator and a mirrored glass door propped open to see around the corner to the stairway. When the elevator door lit up, I could pull back behind this file cabinet until I saw if they were armed. Anyone came in shooting, I’d have several seconds of warning. The odds of someone coming in to shoot you are low, but they are never zero.

“Let me introduce myself!” Misa said, and she made a little heart shape with her fingers. “I’m Aiko Maru, from Maki-Maru Investigations! I’m a private eye.” Said it like it was a badge of honor, which it was. One of the two bald guys with glasses looked dubious. I didn’t memorize his name, I didn’t need to. I was just looking at how he walked, how he stood, to determine if he had a weapon. He didn’t. If he decided to just lunge at her with his hands, she was standing far enough away that I could draw my weapon and drop him before he reached her, assuming she ducked for me to make the shot. “Now, I know everyone is busy, so I’ll make this quick. The home office says they think someone has been stealing corporate secrets and selling them off. And that’s no good, right?”

General expressions of disbelief and amusement. The Indian woman near the back tittered a little longer than the others. She wasn’t armed, but she was up against the cubicle wall, and there might be a weapon on the other side. She’d have to jump over it, and in that dress it would be impossible to clear the hurdle faster than we could react.

“So now, if anyone wants to admit they’ve been stealing corporate secrets, now is the time. Just say you did it and that you’re sorry, and you won’t be in as much trouble.”

A few seconds of silence. They started looking around, scoffing in disbelief.

“Nobody?” Misa took a swig from her bottled water. From home, not from the break room here. We didn’t have time to immerse every bottle here in water to see if they’d been punctured by someone injecting them with poison, you need to be looking pretty close. “Okay, how about this. Everybody put your heads down, and close your eyes.” Only one head went down. “I meant, like, now!” One more head down, another, and as the rest looked to each other they figured that this was happening and followed suit. Except the woman in mid-back right, her head just kind of lolled, her eyes were open, so I concentrated on her. “Okay, now, if anyone has been stealing secrets, raise your hand now that nobody else can see you. Anybody?” Scattered chuckles. “Anyone? Bueller? Bueller? Okay, okay, heads up.”

Hands on her hips, she exhaled in dissatisfaction. “I knew that probably wouldn’t work. But I had to try because, like, imagine how funny that would be if it worked? Right?” The guy with the Voltron T-Shirt under his unbuttoned dress shirt laughed, the only one who thought it was funny. “If I pulled that off, I would tell that story, like, forever. Now I have to do a bunch of boring interviews. Okay, so, everyone, back to your desks, I’ll come by and talk to you. It’ll be about fifteen minutes each. Have your job description and your recent assignments and stuff ready and all that. ” Rolled eyes, grunts of frustration, as Misa peeked over the top of her green filter glasses.

The workers left out the other side, not walking past Misa, not getting within 12 feet. Misa stepped back, leaned over the short cubicle wall towards me. I listened, but didn’t make eye contact. I was flicking my gaze back and forth between the office workers, looking for anything suspicious.

“Okay, it’s probably //KELLY SANDINO//, she whispered. “//DAVID PLEM// was just trying to be polite, everyone else was bored with my bullshit, Kelly was the only one who was paying attention like she thought everything I said was important. Like she was concerned I was trying to lull her into a false sense of security.” I could hear her smile. “So I’ll pull her file, but we’re gonna start interviewing David for about a minute and a half, then hop over to Kelly’s station, where hopefully she’s started to get rid of something incriminating she thought she had 15 minutes to finish disposing of. If she turns off her monitor when we walk in, we know it’s her. Otherwise, grab her trash can.”

I nodded. I looked over to Kelly’s cubicle. Back to the wall, no concern about her screen being seen from behind, no direct line of sight to stairwell or elevator. We’d make her step out of the cubicle before talking to us to ensure she hadn’t picked up a weapon stashed there. If she was calling someone in, then they wouldn’t be showing up soon enough. We could pull the records from her office phone later on. If they already were on the way, I’d have to rely on being able to hear the elevator or stairwell doors open, but that also meant they wouldn’t be able to fire on us right away. I could set something by the stairwell that--

ACK! What the hell? Something smashed into me, bowling me over. My hand was inside my jacket and on the handle of my pistol before I even landed, but I didn’t draw until I could see where the attack came from. From the floor, teeth gritted, pulse pounding, I looked up for an assailant. All I saw was Misa’s concerned face leaning over the low wall, and a bunch of stacked boxes of paper. Paper boxes, stacked up on an office trolley.

An intern, skinny and awkward and panicking, poked his head around the tower. “Oh, Jesus, I’m so sorry! I didn’t even see you there!”

“Oh my God, Shoko, are you okay?” Misa said, and already she offered her hand to help me up.

“Oh my God, oh my God, don’t sue me, don’t sue me,” the intern half-begged half-muttered, “I just started here this week, I didn’t know you were here…”

I wasn’t going to sue him. I wasn’t hurt, and I fell over mostly out of surprise. He just bowled into me with a cart full of paperwork.

I was thinking about how I’d deal with it if this white collar criminal had called in a hit squad, and I was thinking about it so hard, an intern had smacked into me with a cart.

He couldn’t even see around it. How fast could he possibly have been going? Not very. And he just… he bonked right into me.

I’m watching sight lines and evaluating cover and thinking about poison and the intern just bonked into me. Bonk! Full slapstick.

I started laughing. I couldn’t help it. It was just so perfectly absurd. As perfect a lesson as I could have seen. What are the odds that an office will have armed goons burst in, and what are the odds that an office will have a guy pushing a cart and not looking where he’s going? And what was I more concerned with?

I tried to hold in the giggles as Misa pulled me to my feet, but not too much. “Ooh, the laughter is good, I like that!” she said. “Use that. Moment she starts explaining something, laugh just like that, okay!”

#spub #my fiction

4 notes · View notes

dankusner · 3 days ago

Text

80 —— CHAPTER 6

This poor man — just driving his car, no way he did anything wrong — and this other guy steps out in front of it and gets killed.

Well, this was one where I had to hold a hearing.

I had the attorneys present if they wanted to come and all that stuff, and what we had to decide was how do we know this was suicide.

Well, we knew it was suicide because the girl was talking to him on the phone when it happened and the phone was still on when we found him.

So we have this hearing, and after going over the autopsy and the blood report on the driver, well, I ruled it a suicide.

It cost the family about $150,000 because they had double indemnity insurance.

And couldn't collect it.

According to Judge Smith, the guy meant what he said.

I did ninety-one inquests in 2018. Mine is the largest precinct in the county and has the new Trauma II hospital. You take the phone in the shower with you. You don't have a choice. — Hon. Beth Smith, Hays County

Death usually comes unannounced.

When it does, Texas JPs have to be ready to jump.

Judge Jon W. Johnson (Smith County), like Judge Beth Smith, jumps a lot.

I may work forty hours a week in the courtroom, but I never know whether I'm going to spend the night sleeping or working all night long at a homicide.

You stay with the body until the funeral home comes and gets it.

Law enforcement is responsible for the crime scene. I'm responsible for the body.

My truck is like a driving file cabinet. I have forms to every funeral home, to every forensic center. I have all the information on death inside my truck. I have a whole kit I've developed with police officers and crime scene investigators. My wife calls the truck "Dr. Death." When I interact with families, I feel like I'm doing good in a really bad situation. Even though I don't know them, I want to show them that I do care. I'm there for them if they need anything. — Hon. Matt Beasley, Montgomery County

Dead Reckoning —— 81

One of the biggest challenges for an inquest JP is dealing with the family.

Sometimes when a judge arrives at a death scene, the family is there.

It might be only one person — perhaps the grieving spouse — or it could be everyone related to the deceased within the tri-county area.

"Does this complicate things?" I asked Judge Pomykal.

Most definitely.

It happened to me just the end of June.

A young man unfortunately passed away suddenly from what we suspect was a drug toxicity or over-dose.

I knew the family.

I thought, well, I'll call them when we know what's going on.

Well, they were there when I got there!

That quickly.

You have to be real careful.

You have to secure the scene.

Judge Donna Schmidt (Cochran County) told me about one inquest call she made in which there were at least fifty family members gathered on the lawn when she arrived and even more there when she left.

The whole thing had a sideshow or spectacle aspect to it, she said.

Even worse, the family had decided to take matters into their own hands prior to her arrival and cut down the body of the deceased, who had hanged himself, thus compromising the investigation.

I often tell families that the reason I am here is because I am writing the last chapter of your loved one's life.

— Hon. Bill Gravell, Williamson County?

The smaller the county, the stronger the likelihood that a JP will have known the individual who died, or at least be somehow connected to the person.

When Judge Tim Bryan was called out to the home of a woman who had passed away, he found about forty people gathered on the back porch.

To Bryan, this was a huge indication that the woman had left behind a great number of people who loved her.

"I can't tell you how many times," said Bryan, "and this is the saddest part of my job — when I'd go somewhere and find that someone had died alone."

In this particular case, the woman's last name was the same as one of the surnames in Bryan's own family.

So, I see that name and discover that these people are my relatives.

I was at the house pronouncing a relative of mine.

One of the cousins I was close to was one of the cousins this family was close to.

We had such a good

0 notes

douchebagbrainwaves · 4 months ago

Text

THE ACCELERATION OF N THINGS THAT FIGHT BACK

$3000 for a server with a 90 MHz processor and 32 meg of memory. So, yes, it was not just our price to earnings ratio is kind of mind-blowing. How do you get into an office, work and life start to drift apart. LYNXIMGMAP: file:///home/patrick/Documents/programming/python projects/UlyssesRedux/corpora/unsorted/ind. All you need from a launch is some initial core of users who really love you, but they don't need to know to look for in founders, not just to users. I first laid out these principles explicitly, I noticed that I felt like an immigrant from Eastern Europe arriving in America in 1900. 8747 From free 0. In fact, we actively sought out people who'd failed out of school to do it. In 1998, if advertisers paid the maximum that traffic was worth.1 One is a combination of how good it would be hard to distinguish spending too much from raising too little. A round, because VCs would never go for it.

You can't start a startup, you're not just making a technical decision. So after this the option pool would also come out of that initial version is not merely a microcomputer version of a tree that in the future there is a substantial gap.2 This is an instance of a very successful language. So being hard to sell to them, is practically nothing.3 Stone, Lawrence, Family and Fortune: Studies in Aristocratic Finance in the Sixteenth and Seventeenth Centuries, Oxford University Press, 1965. In fairness, I have to keep out the biggest developer of all: the quality of the insiders. Launching teaches you what you should raise, a good rule of thumb from now on that if people don't think you're smart enough to find you by themselves.4 We need to add. Good design is often strange. So while you're talking to that you have to do that, you stop and ask: will people actually pay for this? Object-oriented abstractions map neatly onto the domains of certain specific kinds of programs we may need some new things. Outsiders are free of all this stupendously inefficient software burning up cycles doing the same thing, because if angel rounds become more legitimate, then startups may start to opt for angel rounds even when they know one another at least by reputation, the level of the whole Valley.

Notes

So how do they decide on the basis of intelligence.

Within an hour most people will pay for health insurance derives from efforts by businesses to use a restaurant as a collection of stuff to be some things it's a seller's market. But becoming a police state. Fortunately policies are software; Apple probably wouldn't be irrational.

Chop onions and other vegetables and fry in oil, which either desperately tries to munge what I've said into something that flows from some central tap. There were a variety called Red Delicious that had been a time. I'd appreciate hearing from you. I can establish that good art fifteenth century artists did, once.

Those groups never have come to you. At night, and those are usually more desperate for money.

Thanks to Benedict Evans, Sarah Harlin, Paul Buchheit, Robert Morris essay, and Patrick Collison for putting up with me.

0 notes

prasanththampi · 2 years ago

Video

youtube

ART OF LEADERSHIP CASE STUDY ANSWER | IIBMS DMS CASE STUDY ANSWER | DMS ...ART OF LEADERSHIP CASE STUDY ANSWER PROVIDEDQ.1 Case study Peter Weaver doesn’t like to follow the crowd. He thinks groupthink is a common problem in many organizations. This former director of marketing for a consumer products company believes differences of opinion should be heard and appreciated. As Weaver states, “I have always believed I should speak for what I believe to be true.” He demonstrated his belief in being direct and candid throughout his career. On one occasion, he was assigned to market Paul’s spaghetti-sauce products. During the brand review, the company president said, “Our spaghetti sauce is losing out to price-cutting competitors. We need to cut our prices!” Peter found the courage to say he disagreed with the president. He then explained the product line needed more variety and a larger advertising budget. Prices should not be cut. The president accepted Weaver’s reasoning. Later, his supervisor approached him and said, “I wanted to say that, but I just didn’t have the courage to challenge the president.” On another occasion, the president sent Weaver and 16 other executives to a weeklong seminar on strategic planning. Weaver soon concluded the consultants were off base and going down the wrong path. Between sessions, most of the other executives indicated they didn’t think the consultants were on the right path. The consultants heard about the dissent and dramatically asked participants whether they were in or out. Those who said “Out” had to leave immediately. As the consultants went around the room, every executive who privately grumbled about the session said “In.” Weaver was fourth from last. When it was his turn, he said “Out” and left the room. All leaders spend time in reflection and self-examination to identify what they truly believe and value. Their beliefs are tested and fine-tuned over time. True leaders can tell you, without hesitation, what they believe and why. They don’t need a teleprompter to remind them of their core beliefs. And, they find the courage to speak up even when they know others will disagree. Questions: (4 × 5 = 20) 1. What leadership traits did Weaver exhibit? 2. If you were in Weaver’s shoes, what would you have done? 3. Where does courage come from? 4. List your three most important values.Q.2 Case study Assume you are the VP of Sales and Marketing for a large insurance company. Once a year your company rewards and recognizes the top 100 sales agents by taking them to a luxury resort for a four-day conference. Business presentation meetings are held during the morning. Afternoons are free time. Agents and spouses can choose from an assortment of activities including golf, tennis, boating, fishing, shopping, swimming, etc. On day 2 at 3:00 p.m., you are at the gym working out on the treadmill, when you see Sue your administrative assistant rushing towards you. She says, “I need to talk to you immediately.” You get off the treadmill and say, “What’s up?” Sue states, “We’ve had a tragedy. Several agents went boating and swimming at the lake. Randy, our agent from California died while swimming.” (Background information – Randy is 28 years old. His wife did not come on the trip. She is home in California with their three children). Questions: (4 × 5 = 20) 1. Explain what you would communicate to the following people.  Your boss  Your Human Resources Department  The local police  The attendees at the conference (Would you continue the conference?) 2. How will you notify Randy’s wife? 3. If Randy’s wife and a few family members want to visit the location of Randy’s death, what would you do? 4. What are some “guiding principles” that leaders need to follow in a crisis situation?

#youtube

0 notes

egyptsblackrose · 3 years ago

Text

Dancing with Strangers

This is by far the longest chapter, hopefully I’ve tied all the loose ends and come to a decent conclusion. Stay tuned fro more fics.

Part 1 - https://egyptsblackrose.tumblr.com/post/648370506842701824/a-rose-by-any-other-name

Part 5 -https://egyptsblackrose.tumblr.com/post/654891313044635648/dancing-with-strangers-there-will-be-one-more-part

Part 6- The end, enjoy!

It had been eight months since your first meeting with Gojo Satoru and Kakashi Hatake. This had been the longest relationship either men had ever had, both as a three or on their own. It was also painfully clear how absolutely in love both men were with you, and you with them. The change in the three of you was as clear as day, never had anyone seen each of you so happy - is what you constantly heard from everyone you knew, and when you ran into a friend or relative of theirs… with a few exceptions.

The truth had come out about a month in that Gojo was the one with all the money. A ‘representative of his household’ had come to the apartment to visit and go over ‘matters concerning the family’. Satoru had been so laid back through the whole thing, smirking mockingly at the clearly uncomfortable (stuck up) old butler. He’d grabbed your waist as you were walking towards the door to leave, pulling you down and into his lap. It became clear that he wanted to mess with the man opposite him, even Kakashi seemed in on it because he kissed you sweetly as he walked passed.

Gojo wasn’t able to hide his bitterness when the man finally left though, burying his head into your neck and hugging you tightly. His father had been a politician and his mother a CEO of a successful company, he still had connections because of them and shares that were doing incredibly well. Not to mention their life insurance had been enough to set anyone for life.

“It’s not like I was close to them to begin with.” He’d muttered in a bored manner when you’d teared up at the mention of a Satoru toddler being left alone, surrounded by people who wanted to use him for money, power and influence. The butler was a man hired by his fathers old political party and the other share holders at his mothers company. They apparently weren’t best pleased with him settling for being a small time policeman, had hoped to mould him into their puppet to keep both their money making schemes going.

To cheer the three of you up, Gojo had taken the three of you on a spontaneous trip to an Onsen that one of his friends owns, up in the middle of no where. The beautiful, traditional building with modern interior was nestled on the side of a frigging mountain that could only be reached through a thick, ancient forest.

You were the only three guests, and the workers were even excused for the evening, so it felt like you were the only three in the world with the next person been miles away. Which you were insanely grateful for. Because Kakashi and Gojo had made it a completion between them on who could make you scream the loudest.

Three months later, Kakashi had appeared out of no where behind you while you were cooking dinner, wrapping his arms round you gently and kissing your neck soothingly. “Would you join me for a day out tomorrow?”

“Of course I will,” You giggled, shivering as his lips ghosted over the marks on your neck and shoulders, drawing invisible lines like he was drawing constellations. “Where are we going?”

Hatake was silent for a moment before he squeezed you tighter. “I’m going to introduce you to my father.”

To say you were nervous was an understatement, you had agonised over the right outfit for hours the night before, asking both Miku and Sakura for their help. You should have known better, they had spent the majority of the time gushing over your boyfriends and how serious it was getting between you. After all, no one had ever heard of the two most wanted bachelors introducing their conquests to their family and friends, or even going on trips with their lovers, let alone keeping their interest this long.

Finally settling on one of your favourite outfits; something simple, comfortable and trendy, you kept your make-up light and as natural as possible and called yourself ready. Meeting at their apartment, you were surprised to see Kakashi in his policeman formal uniform. God the man looked dashing. Wearing white gloves, black dress shoes, a smart navy suit, light blue tie, hat tucked under his arm and a smirk on his handsome face.

“Enjoying the view baby?” He teased.

You nodded dumbly, bitting your lip to try hide your smirk. “Just when I thought you couldn’t get any more handsome, you have to go devastate my heart like that.”

“Maybe me and Sato should wear these tonight then.” The suggestion had your thighs clenching, suddenly it was hard to swallow. Hatake chuckled lazily having seen your reaction. “Later baby girl, for now, we have somewhere to go.”

The cemetery was the LAST place you were expecting this day to take you. Kakashi stopped at his fathers tome stone and saluted. It was at least two decades since his fathers death. Kakashi Sakumo, Hatake’s father, had been a respected police detective, and his whole inspirational drive to become a policeman. When Hatake was young, his father had led a team in a drug bust against some of the biggest names in the Yakuza, but had chosen to save his men’s lives rather than capture the villains when things had gone wrong.

The ‘failure’ was a black mark against his name, and soon his was shunned by the media, his fellow detectives and the whole police force. The abuse became so bad, that he took his own life. From then on, Hatake had lived and grown up with Gojo who he was already inseparable with.

“For the longest time…I blamed him too.” Kakashi admitted quietly, holding onto your hand like a life line. “He had a duty to take those dangerous men off the streets, to make the city a safer place for the public, for kids who were in danger of either being hooked onto drugs or joining gangs. Instead he chose to save the lives of his team.” You were silent, what could you possibly say to ease his pain? “But now…” Hatake raised his head with a proud smile. “My views have changed. He didn’t want to chase glory, he just wanted to do the right thing and save lives. In that moment, they needed him, he saw that and did his best. He was willing to die for his men, he didn’t want to see all those family’s mourning for lives he could have spared. I can only hope that one day, I will be as brave as him.”

You are not ashamed to say you cried, standing there looking at the grave of the man who had made Hatake into the man he was. Into the man you loved. You bowed deeply and gave your thanks, promising out loud to take care of his son for as long as you were allowed. Kakashi’s own eyes watered at this as he pulled you close. You don’t know how long you stood there holding each other for, but it didn’t feel like long enough. Part of you thought it would never be enough when it came to the two amazing men who looked at you like you were their whole world.

After the visit, Kakashi had taken you to the old, more traditional part of town so you could go to his favourite restaurant. The two of you were the first to arrive and the last to leave, laughing so much to the point where you were both in tears. It was so light and care free, and you could see the weight just lift off of Hatake’s shoulders.

And when you both finally made it back to their apartment, Gojo was sat on the sofa waiting. Smirking. Also in uniform. That night, not one of you slept.

With your hands locked together in cuffs and blindfold around your eyes, you shook like a leaf in the wind as Kakashi took you from behind, Gojo at your front. If it had been anyone else trying to blindfold you and tie you up, you would have absolutely said no. As it was, Kakashi loved seeing you so vulnerable. So much so that he had stretched your arse as he’d enthusiastically eaten you out, and was now taking advantage of his VERY thorough prep work. He held a vibrator to your clit as he fucked your arse, Gojo keeping your mouth open and busy as he kissed you hungrily so they could hear your moans, squeezing and playing with your tits as he took your front just as roughly.

Not only did you squirt first time, your pretty sure you blacked out for a second. Not that the boys were deterred, they knew you’d tell them if it became too much. Besides, the sounds you were making; the moans, the wet squelching from how wet you were, it was the best yet. You couldn’t walk the next day though and had to ask Miku to record your lecture.

By the fifth month, Gojo and Kakashi had broached the idea of you moving in with them. It was a casual comment made in light conversation one Sunday morning, when they FIRST brought it up. Then it was Kakashi suggesting you keep more of your things with them, mostly because you would ask them to take you back to your apartment with the girls so you could get ready for the day, meaning you would leave earlier than they would like. Eventually Gojo decided they were being too subtle and would cling to you in the mornings, begging you to not leave and to stay with them.

“You guys remember that I’m living with two roommates already right? I can’t just up and leave them like that, they won’t be able to afford rent!”

“But beautifu~l! We want you here with us!”

“What our idiot means to say baby-”

“Hey!”

“Is that, you already spend so much time here, and we love having you with us. Our apartment is even closer to your Uni building! It makes sense surely, for you to move in with us. Or for us even to find a place together-”

“Wow, ok slow down there!” You butt in quickly, cheeks turning pink. Finally the boys had had enough of dancing around the subject and had sat you down to talk about it properly. Talking about moving into their lush apartment was one thing, but talking about a place together, was something else entirely!

Gojo pouted at you in annoyance. “What, you don’t want to live with us?”

“I’m not saying that!” You defended instantly, frowning at him. “I’m saying it’s a BIG step, and I get that you guys feel ready for it, but I don’t ok? For one, five months isn’t that much time dating someone, second, I don’t even have a job yet! And don’t tell me money isn’t an issue and I don’t have to pay rent cause God help me Satoru, I will get up and leave right now.” You threatened.

“Ok you two, lets take a deep breath and talk about this calmly ok?” Hatake soothed, squeezing both your hands. “Baby, if you don’t feel ready then that’s fine, we will not force you. But please know that when you ARE ready, we WANT you here. Ok?” Nodding in understanding, you started to relax. Gojo huffed and crossed his arms, but nodded in agreement. “And about you looking for a job and paying rent. We are not trying to baby you or the like, we just want to take care of you. We know you can take care of yourself but that wont stop us from WANTING to take care of you because you are YOURS. Understand? We love and cherish you, and if we can help you, we want to. If it was us in a difficult situation and you could help us, you would, wouldn’t you?”

“Of course, in a heartbeat.” You muttered with a slight pout.

Kakashi beamed. “It’s the same in our eyes.” And that had been the end of that…for the time being that is.

Just short of the six month mark, you had agreed to go out again with the girls for a night out. Kakashi and Gojo had encouraged you to go, promising that when they were done with their shift, they would come pick you up. They had even bought you a gift voucher for your birthday to buy a new outfit. You had been sure to send the boys a flattering pic of yourself all dolled up before you had left for the night, receiving such thirsty replies that no one would guess that you had spent the night before with them.

The night had been going perfectly, once again you were the most sober of the group, which you were now used to. You had a nice buzz going, there had already been so many laughs and the girls were excitedly giggling about the stories you shared on your boyfriends. (Of course the intimate, personal things you kept to yourself.) You had been to a few bars and your group agreed to end the night at the club you had met your boys in, ‘The Ninja Shrine’. Texting the two policemen still on shift, you let them know that you and your friends had arrived safely, were going to order your drinks and you would be eagerly waiting for them for a dance.

Gojo replied with multiple winky, smirky, and red with sweat drop faces. Kakashi was the only one to give you a verbal reply, promising to be there as soon as they could, and ‘ordering’ you to behave until they arrived. It made you smile, biting your lip. ‘No promises’ was your reply with a winky face, locking your phone and ignoring the bings that followed, knowing that would rile them up more than a reply.

Despite the clear teasing, you stayed against the bar, talking and laughing with your friends as you sipped at your drink. The girls did try convince you to dance with them at one point, but you were waiting a certain pair to join you. After all, dancing with the girls was fun, but it was even better when you had certain pairs of eyes on your body.

“Oh shit,” Miku cursed, suddenly grabbing your arm and turning you away from the door.

“What the hell-?”

“Don’t turn around!” Miku earned, holding onto your shoulders. “One of your boys’s old flings is here, and trust me you don’t want anything to do with her.” Looking subtly out of the corner of your eyes, you saw a pretty strawberry blonde with soft brown eyes and a confident smirk. You could clearly see her figure through her flashy outfit, her expensive designer shoes and handbag on show like she was on the Paris run way. “She was with them for four months, her names Claire Aoki, and she’s a psycho if you ask me.” Miku continued carefully.

Before you could react, the door opened once more and in came your two boyfriends, looking like sex on legs. Gojo wore a flashy designer get up with black jeans and dress shoes, a blue shirt and a leather jacket that you knew for a fact cost more than your joint rent with the girls. Kakashi was also in black dress shoes, black dress pants, a dark grey shirt and a lighter grey silk vest. Their eyes landed on you immediately and began smiling. You smiled back, beaming when they started heading your way.

They hadn’t made it two steps before they were stopped by Claire, her red manicured-nailed hands resting on their chests as she leaned in towards them, pressing her chest into their arms. Kakashi looked panicked, eyes widening as his eyes darted up towards you, then down to her and back. Gojo’s smile shrunk, it was still there, but it looked much more forced now as his blue eyes narrowed at the other woman.

Curious, and not worried at all, you leaned back against the bar. You turned to make yourself look as relaxed as possible, replicating the same look you had the night they had pulled you away from your friends to charm the pants off of you. Your head tilted and your smile grew as their eyes kept on drifting to you. Whatever Claire was saying clearly wasn’t keeping their attention.

Your smile turned to a smirk as Beast by Mia Martina started playing, slowly pushing off the bar as you headed to the dance floor, your friends following. Closing your eyes, you let the music take you away, body rolls moving slow, deliberate. You caught their eyes by dancing for yourself, but now you knew their weaknesses, the parts of you that they loved to tease and squeeze, you knew their bodies like you knew your own. And you fully intended to use that to your advantage.

“Keep your eyes on me,” You sang, looking both men dead in the eyes, smirking as their gazes struggled to meet yours, roaming your form hungrily like they hadn’t seen you in months. “Come here right now,” You continued, your hands reaching out to them, beckoning them to you. “Cause when the sun goes down the beast comes out,” Dropping to the floor, you straightened your legs so you were bent in half, slowly coming up and curving your back as you flipped your hair back gracefully.

“Take you down, down can you keep it up all night,” Smirking, you spun slowly as you exaggerated your hip swaying, making sure they got an eye full of your behind. “You all over my skin, I’m anxious, paint my body boy’s I’ll be your canvas.” Your head snapped back, showcasing all their bruises that they left from the night before.

Next thing you knew, two sets of hands were gripping you tight, one set on your hips and another on your upper thighs. “Da~nm Beautiful!” Gojo growled lowly into your ear, your grin stretching as you giggled, Kakashi ducking his head to bite your neck. “First you ignore us, then you go and put on a show like that for anyone to see. What are you trying to do, hu? You just want us to bend you over our knees don’t you?”

“Maybe I do,” You teased. “Or maybe I’m trying to prove a point to someone who was getting too handsy with what wasn’t theirs.”

“Oh? Someone was getting jealous? As sexy as you are ‘staking your claim’, doesn’t change the fact that your going to get your punishment when we get home, beautifu~l!” Satoru teased, his hand dragging up your body till his hand was at your neck, then he squeezed.

Kakashi let out a ragged breath at your moan. “I think we should get out of here.” Pressing himself harder into you, you could feel his impatience clearly through his pants.

You dared to look around you, eyes meeting with soft brown eyes glaring daggers at you with so much hatred. You would have been scared six months ago, you would have shrunk and shied away. But how could you now when Gojo and Kakashi were stood with you, hands all over you, demanding your love and attention, making you feel so treasured and powerful.

“Kiss me first.” You demanded. Satoru didn’t even hesitate for a second, pulling you into a searing kiss full of passion and desire. You faintly heard Miku and your friends cat call and wolf whistle somewhere near the bar, causing Gojo to pull away and chuckle. The opening was all Kakashi needed. His kiss was equally breathtaking, his movements slower and more controlled, but clearly as desperate to lay claim.

When Hatake pulled away, Gojo effortlessly picked you up and threw you over his shoulder, smacking your arse when you struggled. So you smacked his right back. Again, you couldn’t walk the next day.

By the end of the eight first months, you had finally landed a job interview and was offered the job on the spot, starting small but promised promotions if your work was up to standard. Around the same time your lease on the shared apartment with your friends was up, and you had finally given into your boyfriends hints and agreed to look for a place you could all afford together. What’s more, your graduation was less than a month away. Things were finally falling into place.

You had yet to broach the subject of your relationship status with your parents, though you were pretty sure they had figured out that you were at least dating someone by this point. Admitting that you hadn’t mentioned anything to your parents, you were nervous how the boys would react. But they had simply shrugged, nodded in understanding and reminding you that if you needed their help they were here for you.

Most importantly, you had a job you were doing well in, you were moving into a beautiful home, your friends were happy and doing well in their own fields, and you had two men who loved you unconditionally. You were sure everything was going to work out just right. And with Gojo and Satoru by your side, you could over come anything.

#y/n #you #my own work #gojo #satoru #gojo x you #gojo satoru #gojo satoru x reader #reader #Kakashi #hatake #kakashi hatake #kakashi x reader #Kakashi Hatake x reader #smut #love story #final chapter

75 notes · View notes

collecting-stories · 4 years ago

Text

A Study in JJ Maybank

I’m bored and was trying to shake my writer’s block so I made this headcanon for JJ.

[this gif isn’t mine.]

✕ ✕ ✕ ✕

- The first time JJ broke a bone he was in third grade. He told the school nurse that he fell off his skateboard but his dad had slammed him into the floor when he found out JJ had stolen cigarettes from his pack.

- Since then JJ has stopped telling people when he’s injured and sometimes picks fights with kooks to cover bruises he gets from his dad.

- JJ’s dad taught him not to trust the police because he didn’t want JJ to feel like he had anyone to go to about the abuse.

- As he gets older and the police start to treat him like they're just waiting to send him to juvie he believes his dad more and more.

- When Peterkin threatens him with jail time on the mainland, he actually considers that, at least, he would be away from his dad for a time. But he doesn’t want to do that to his friends so he cooperates.

- Luke constantly tells JJ that he’ll be alone if JJ leaves him and that without JJ there he’ll kill himself.

- Luke is extremely emotionally manipulative to JJ and has, in the past, drank so much that its caused anxiety attacks, prompting JJ into the role of caretaker.

- None of his clothes are really his, everything is hand-me-downs from cousins. His boots used to be his dad’s.

- The only thing he owns is his shark necklace that his mom gave him. His rings are from his grandfather, he took them when they went to clean out the house after he died.

- The Maybank’s frequently don’t have electricity or running water.

- JJ works a bunch of odd jobs so he can float under the radar and not pay taxes because he needs the money for house bills and food.

- They’re on food stamps, and used to be on WIC, but his dad usually sells the card for drug money at the beginning of the month.

- Luke is on unemployment and his cousins are all frequently trying to work the system though they’re extremely racist toward POC that need government assistance.

- JJ’s family are definitely all Trump-supporting (though none of them actually vote), anti-government, conspiracy theorists that tote guns and say racist shit as if it’s a joke. Probably has some KKK members in there too.

- Spending so much time away from home with Kiara and Pope has influenced a lot of what JJ believes and he struggles internally with a lot of conflicting ideologies.

- He can draw really well but never actually shows up for school because he works so much. Has been told multiple times by his dad that stuff like art is for girls and that he’s a pussy for liking it so he doesn’t tell anyone.

- He’s got CHIP now but when he turns 18 he knows that he won’t have health insurance any longer.

- He hasn't gotten his license because the week he was supposed to get his physical for his permit, Luke dislocated JJ’s shoulder and JJ had to cancel his appointment.

- Mama L at the Island Club knows he doesn’t get food at home so she sneaks scraps for him at the end of shift.

- JJ’s overprotective of his friends because he thinks that if he had protected his mom better she wouldn’t have left.

- His mom left when he was six years old. Luke found out that she was cheating on him and he kicked her out of the house, screaming at her that she was a whore and a terrible mother and that she would never see JJ again.

- She was planning on going back for JJ but never worked up the nerve. Luke blames JJ for her cheating, saying that if he had been a better kid his mom wouldn’t have wanted to leave them.

- John B tells him that he doesn’t know what it’s like to have the only person who cared about him disappear after Big John goes missing but JJ does, he feels like everyone stopped caring the minute his mom left.

- His mom’s parents live off the island but they used to live on the obx and after she was kicked out and left they stopped coming around to see JJ because Luke threatened them.

- He told JJ they stopped because they never loved him and that Luke is the only person who loves him.

- JJ started smoking in third grade, bumming cigarettes off his cousins before he started smoking weed.

- When he was twelve he started drinking more hardcore, stealing beers from his dad’s fridge or from John B’s Uncle T.

- He would never do hard drugs because he’s seen what it does to people in his family, most of his aunts and uncles have done or still do coke and heroin. One of his uncles even makes meth.

- Kiara tells him he’s never been to resurrection drive but he’s been down that way plenty of times to get stuff for his dad.

- His grandfather was abusive to his father but mellowed by the time JJ was born, still he’s heard stories about the way his dad was treated as a kid which makes him more empathetic to his father, though Luke doesn’t deserve it.

- JJ thinks Kiara can be tone deaf sometimes when she talks about socioeconomic issues or drug addiction stigma but he rarely says anything.

- “You don’t know what it’s like to be down in it.”

- When he was in elementary and middle school the counselor tried to talk to him about the possibility of having a dissociative disorder but JJ refused to talk to her.

- He has little motivation to do anything with his life, assuming he’ll just end up like his dad, but he’s always supportive of his friends ideas.

- People like Peterkin used to feel bad for him when he was a kid but now they just treat him the same way his dad does, like he’s worthless to them.

- He puts on a show for his friends so they never think to look beneath the surface and figure out that something is wrong.

Bonus:

- Kiara does have a crush on JJ but she would never pursue a relationship with him because, as much as she likes him, she views him as having no prospective future or drive and thinks he would hold her back in life.

[tell me anymore you have]

#jj maybank headcanon #jj headcanon #outer banks headcanon #obx headcanon #collecting stories headcanon

150 notes · View notes

actlikeyoudidntdoit · 4 years ago

Text

ASSASSIN’S MODERN DAY PROFESSIONS

—————————————————

ALTAÏR

College Professor

-We all know that Altaïr has spent most of his life teaching, so what better job does he have than a college professor?

-He knows what he’s talking about, that much is certain, but sometimes he gets a little too lost in his lesson to realize that his students are scratching their heads. So it’s normal to have students staying after class, but they leave understanding every word of what he said.

-He’s not the fun teacher, but he’ll be able to teach you what you need and still remember it at the end of the day.

-He’s pretty lenient, and even with the obnoxious students who cause a scene, he calmly gets them to at least do their work.

-Other teachers always use him as a reference when it comes to the perfect teacher.

EZIO AUDITORE

-I can see Ezio being a public speaker since he’s not all that scared of crowds and spends a lot of time giving advice, so I think he’d really enjoy being able to help a crowd of people whose lives are falling apart

-Ezio would be the single anchor in a sea of storms because he always seems to have an answer for everything. He’s a man whose words are turned into inspirational quotes that people hang on their walls.

-When he says that things will be okay, no one doubts him since they know that he lost his father and his brothers very early on and that it took years for Ezio to accept the loss the way he had. If he could soldier through it, why couldn’t they?

-He doesn’t involve himself in politics, finding them to be a waste of time and breath despite how many people ask for his input on the political status of the country he’s staying in.

-He speaks to a lot of people in private, letting them speak their minds and giving his advice if they want it. He’s a therapist without a license, and you always feel hopeful about life leaving his office.

Connor

Construction or Sports

-This boy was designed for heavy work, and I’ve heard some good points in saying that not only would he be amazing at sports, but he’d also really enjoy it too.

-In my personal headcanon, I think he’d be a good construction worker as well. Not the high end kind that build skyscrapers or anything, but I can see him building simple houses for small communities, taking the lower jobs that can’t afford much help like the sweetheart he is. He definitely volunteers to make houses for the homeless.

-Since most of the homeless he helps don’t have much money, he makes sure to offer them baked goods because he’s definitely a baker.

Edward Kenway

-As a young man, he joins the navy

-Once he’s on his own, he buys his own boat and treats it like royalty.

-He’s not a pirate himself, but he does let less legal people on board for a price. At the time, it was just an easy cash pay since people paid good money when they were desperate.

-When he’s older and gets a grip on some of the people he’s helping (like the REALLY bad criminals) he quickly lets it go.

-Yet after seeing some of the more decent people and the places they were running from, I can see him being a sort of smuggler, but instead of smuggling drugs or weapons, he sells medicines, canned foods, and clothes to the regions where they’re scarce or hard to pay for.

-When he’s older and found a fortune over time, he starts up his own official charity, hiring various sailers to sail supplies to more places than he himself could alone.

SHAY CORMAC

-Okay, I have to say it. Shay would DEFINITELY be an FBI spy. Maybe I haven’t thought of it as heavily as I could, but he just strikes me as a man who could kill someone in plain sight and still not be seen.

-He already knows everything he can about infiltrating and getting vital information

-He knows exactly how to manipulate people to get what he wants.

-He’s like Macgyver but as an agent.

-He does things that make sleeping at night impossible, but he tells himself that every long night for him is another person somewhere else having a peaceful night, and peaceful nights means he’s doing his job. Right?

-Constantly questions his morals, but he can’t bring himself to stop, not knowing that he’d do if he stopped, because at least here he’s doing something. He’s contributing.

-That and maybe I might or might not want to see Shay in a suit 🤷‍♀️

AVELINE

-Actress. And a damn good one. She’s one of the kind of people who get paid millions each job and gives most of her cash on people who really need it. Not only that, she’s a fan favorite everywhere.

-She takes extra jobs in smaller businesses barely staying afloat, and public morality boosts has nothing to do with it. In fact, she keeps her fame life out of everything, choosing to see it just as another job.

-I can see her sharing similarities of Zendaya or Zoe Zaldana

ARNO DORIAN

-High school teacher or actor, I can’t decide.

-Because let’s be honest, this guys brain is more wrinkled than a raisin. He knows his stuff.

-He’s good at simplifying what he’s saying, and that happens to be a very useful trait when it comes to teaching.

-If he was a teacher, he’d be a damn good one, that’s for sure. No one will fail his class because he’s so good at explaining things, and he’d be the one who actually cares for his students.

-When it comes to acting... just admit that Arno’s a theater boy through and through. If you need proof, he’s the only one with a crazy amount of fancy robes and colors. FOR GODS SAKE HE OWNS A THEATER! So on modern day, I could totally see him as an actor as well.

-He’d be the Ewan Mcgregor of the modern day, because everyone recognizes him from SOMEWHERE because he’s really tested his acting ability on multiple various roles. Well read, charming, and level headed, he’d totally rock being an actor. He’s good friends with Aveline, and when they both have time in their busy schedules, they stop by for coffee and fill each other in on their life.

JACOB

-Boxing

-I saw the photoshops of Jacob in boxer life, and I have not been the same because oh my god that is amazing.

-but absolutely he’d be a boxer. He’s the shortest guy in the entire match, but he doesn’t need a stool to knock you on your ass before you can laugh about it.

-His opponents are lucky shattering bones is against the rules because he knows how to make someone wish their dad wore a condom.

-A lot of people think that his rounds must be rigged, and his sister had to physically hold him back every time Jacob threatened to give him a close up of how ‘rigged’ his fights were.

-Jacobs a powder keg, so it doesn’t take much to make him explode, and a lot of the less respectful people he has to fight picks particularly sore spots to do just that.

-He might be pissed, but his punch isn’t the only thing that stings. He knows exactly what words to use, and when they’ve gone too far, he doesn’t hold back.

-Might have a temper, but he has a good heart despite it all. He visits schools and completely turns his personality around with kids. He signs autographs, takes pictures, and makes sure that every one of them have a fun day because he knows that there’s some kids in this school that don’t have those kinds of days. He pays the school for field days each time, making sure they all get out. They bring out the scooters, parachutes, capture the flag, and ‘wrestling’ matches for the kids who want to face him. He loses every time. He never has a bigger smile on his face than when he has children fans walk up to him.

EVIE

-She is totally a lawyer and you can’t change my mind.

-Logic and Facts are her strongest weapons, and so far she has yet to lose a debate.

-Every other lawyer knows that seeing Evie walk into court is an instant death sentence, because like her brother, her words are sharp as a knife and her mind is even sharper.

-If they didn’t look identical, no one would believe that she would be related with Jacob the hot headed boxer, because she was level as water and was near impossible to make angry, but god help the poor sod that presses her.

-Her clients almost always get the best case scenario with Evie by their side by how good she is.

-Also like her brother, children are her weak spot, and her hard composure melts whenever she needs to speak to a child in the witness post, making sure that the child feel comfortable unlike the others that drill the kid with questions when they’re too skittish to answer. She takes her time and gets the kid feeling safe, and gently asks their side.

-Evie might not do it as a profession, but Evie has beaten Jacob in the boxing ring in the gym. She knows damn well how to handle herself, knowing she’d need it since she’d be fighting corrupt politicians or gang members who have too often tried attempts at her life. Every time she emerged unscathed, using the attempt at even more evidence against them and insuring a spot in jail. No one dared try attacking her again after that.

BAYEK

-I’m thinking police officer or motivational speaker for trauma.

-Either way, he’s a guardian who takes care of the people he’s in charge of. He knows words well, and having been down the dark path himself, he knows exactly what people experience and what they want to hear.

-Be the change you want to see in the world, and that’s exactly what he’s doing.

-He’d be a well respected officer, and he’s not afraid of telling off a comrade if someone is wrongfully accused. He’s not very popular in the police station, but as long as he’s doing his job, he’s satisfied.

-He’s saved several people over the course in his life, and his word is well honored since he’s on no ones side. He sees things as what they are and doesn’t twist events he disagreed with to his point of view. Even if it hurts him personally, he doesn’t lie.

-He’s divorced, but they’re still best friends with each other and visit when they can.

AYA (ran out of gifs. Sorry)

-She is hands down a self defense teacher for women

-She sells hidden self defense tools for less than ten dollars, always sure to keep constantly supply of them since many have confessed that they’ve saved them from dangerous situations.

-Like her former husband, she’s a protector and makes sure she provides her students with the best.

-She teaches children what to do if they ever get grabbed, and she’s had many parents in years thanking her when that information ended up saving their child’s life.

ALEXIOS

-Hands down he is a stunt double

- Preferably Arno’s since he relies more on flexibility than brute strength. Then there’s the fact that they look similar enough in features

-He does the moves that would probably be safer if they were just CGI, but he hates those computers with a passion, preferring to do the real thing instead of giving out something fake. He’s broken more bones than he can count, and the companies he works with always have a medic on standby when something goes wrong.

-They tried convincing him that they only needed him for a few spots, but after realizing that he wanted this (and him assuring them that he doesn’t bother with suing), they let him do his thing. The results are fruitful since the most nitpicky movie fans are absolutely thrilled when there’s a particular move done right.

-He teaches Arno a good few things about how to do action scenes, and they’re definitely good friends.

KASSANDRA

-Roller Derby

-She lives for throwing people and smacking them without being judged for it, so the Derby’s her safe spot.

-Everyone on the opposing team is terrified of her, always scared when they see her devilish smile, knowing that they’re about to get their asses handed to them. Like her brother, she’s an adrenaline junky, and when she’s not doing the derby, she’s going off into car races in a water trench. She’s surprisingly very good with cars too, knowing the inside and out of a car like the back of her hand.

-She loves it when men try to catcall her. It gives her a perfect opportunity to punch them in the face.

-She loves the races themselves because no one expects it. Sometimes she pretends to act like a beginner and absolutely slaughter them, giving them a nice wink before driving out with her cash.

-Only has a soft spot for the girl who visits her on weekends. She’s practically her older sister, and there will be hell to pay if her favorite kid gets hurt in any way.

EIVOR

-BACA(Bikers Against Child Abuse)

-The moment I saw this, I instantly thought about them.

-they would absolutely be a part of this

-Looking all badass in leather while turning into a softie for children? That’s Eivors entire character right there.

-Eivors not afraid to get physical with an abuser. They’d beat the abuser to a pulp and right after take the child out for ice cream.

-No one messes with Eivor, knowing that their lenience was stretched only for children. Anyone else tried to pressure her? Your teeth would be shattered and they’d wear the bits for a necklace.

-Children are much more brave around them because they’re tougher than their parent and on their side, so they’re not afraid to give them to the police

121 notes · View notes

apiratewhopines · 3 years ago

Text

In the Offing

Summary: AU - Storybrooke - Emma Swan is drafted to help Liam Jones clear his brother’s name in the disappearance of a former flame. As she digs deeper into the rash of missing person cases, she risks losing more than just her heart as she uncovers the truth.

Chapter One - Pilot

Summary: In which our heroine embarks on an adventure

“Let the exits pass, all the tar and glass

Til the road and sky align”

-Angela, The Lumineers

If asked, Emma Swan would land firmly in the ‘It was a dark and stormy night’ camp rather than the ‘Once Upon a Time’ one.

It wasn’t that she didn’t believe in happiness and true love and good triumphing over evil. She did. Or at least she tried to believe in them, which was nearly the same thing.

It was just that in her experience, relationships were more likely to end in indifference and divergent roads at best or disappointment, deceit and violence at their worst. It rarely ended in laughter over the dinner table, surrounded by the people you loved and admired. In fact, it never ended that way for her. And she was fine with that. Or at least she tried to believe she was, which was not nearly the same thing.

So it was without the slightest bit of surprise that she made her way back to her office from yet another honey trap date, her third this week if anyone was keeping track. She didn’t anymore, had stopped wondering years ago how there were so many cheating spouses and deadbeat dads and none too bright criminals in one city. Nor did she have the energy to wonder why she found her doorway blocked by the broad form of her sometimes collaborator, sometimes competitor, always annoying quasi-neighbor.

“What do you want, Liam? I’m not staying. I’m only dropping off paperwork so I can go home and mourn the loss of human decency uninterrupted.”

“Perhaps a bath would be more helpful, lass. You smell like a walking distillery,” he replied, not bothered by her unfriendly tone and refusal to meet his eyes as she elbowed him out of the way and unlocked the door. “Were you drowning your sorrows or were they drowning you?”

“Not that it’s any of your business, but I caught the guy who did this and he smells like jail now so I would say I won,” she muttered, bristling only a little bit when he followed her inside. She would like to say that she and Liam had a complicated relationship but the truth was they tolerated each other when they had to and avoided each other when they didn’t. She could count on him to be professional, which unfortunately was not a given in their line of work, and his complete disinterest in her as a person was a quality she appreciated, having never been someone who craved attention or willingly engaged in small talk.

Now that she thought about it, he was probably one of the better connections she had made in Boston. If his self-righteous, holier-than-thou attitude chafed at times...well, no one was perfect. She had met him when her boss moved their bail bonds office operations to their current location and with his private investigation business occupying the suite next door, they would throw work each other’s way when it made sense. Despite knowing him for nearly two years, she would be hard-pressed to recall a single interaction after hours or off the job so even though she was tired and her feet were killing her from running down tonight’s skip in stiletto heels, she was a little curious about why he was there. “Barry isn’t here.”

“If I was looking for Barry, this is the last place I would be.”

She snorted as she dropped off a packet of reports on the nearest desk. The truth was that her boss, who also happened to own the business, was probably cruising off the coast of Florida at that very moment and hadn’t stepped foot in the office since they moved. But she considered absenteeism a great quality in a boss so she wasn’t complaining.

Sighing, she turned around to face him. She leaned against the desk behind her and hoped he didn’t notice her flexing her feet in an attempt to keep them from cramping. “As nice as it is to catch up, I’ve had a long night. Why don’t you tell me what you want?”

“Henry mentioned that he was going to spend the summer with his father when he came by last week,” Liam stated as if that explained everything. Henry’s capacity to make friends never ceased to astound her and was definitely a characteristic he inherited from Neal. Even curmudgeonly Liam Jones had fallen victim to her kid’s ability to engage with anyone. Little did her visitor suspect that reminding her that she had nearly eight weeks of going home to an empty apartment was not the best way for him to start a conversation.

It had been with great trepidation that she had agreed to the trip at all. After years of fielding her son’s questions about his father, she used her considerable tracking skills to finally run her ex to ground about eighteen months ago. Enough time had passed for her to forgive him, although she doubted she would ever forget, but she felt she owed Henry the chance to at least meet his father. And of course, they had hit it off as she had both hoped for and feared.

She had worried, apparently needlessly so, that Neal would quickly lose interest in the son he hadn’t know existed and was inconveniently located in a different state. However, the man who had no issues with abandoning her a decade ago had surprised her. He called Henry every day and made the trip at least once a month to visit. He had shown up and supported Henry in ways she hadn’t expected and it reminded her that not all the times had been bad and maybe, just maybe, he wasn’t a villain. When Neal had approached her about a long distance trip that spanned their son’s entire summer break, her first reaction was to forbid it but she knew Henry needed it. Although she would never admit it to Neal, she had also appreciated that he had brought it up with her first rather than sending Henry to talk her into it.

Still, it had physically hurt her to see them walking away together at the airport yesterday, similar gaits and probably with matching, wide smiles on their faces.

Now her interaction with her son would be reduced to a couple of texts a day and FaceTime calls a few times a week while Henry had the time of his life gallivanting around California with his father and future stepmother. In a flash, she went from tired and curious to tired and pissed. “Right. Glad you reminded me before I made it home and called the police about a kidnapping. Did you need something, Liam, or are you just trying to bother me?”

“Both. Obviously,” he said dryly.

“Great, he’s got jokes,” she groaned as she threw her head back in frustration. “I should warn you that I’ve already punched one jerk tonight. I’m hungry and exhausted and if you don’t get on with it, I’m not afraid to add another one to the list.”

He sighed and for the first time she noticed the tenseness in the way he was holding himself. Whatever the reason for his visit, it obviously had him wound up pretty tightly. Against her better judgement, she felt her curiosity stirring again.

“Fine, since you’re obviously not fit to be out in public,” he said with a vague gesture toward her whiskey-flavored dress, “order some delivery and let’s talk.”

—

The smell of cheese did a lot to restore her good humor. She watched him from under her lashes as he looked at the meat-lovers pizza with what approached horror in his expression. She never pegged him as a health food nut, although she could tell he took care of himself, so maybe what offended him was the grease that had soaked through the box to the papers that were stacked neatly on his desk. Tearing off a large slice, she hummed happily while she took the first scorching bite.

“I need a favor,” he stated without preamble before he too took a bite and glanced at her with a pained look in his eye.

She was pretty sure that this was the first time he had ever uttered those words in his life and that was probably the source of his discomfort rather than the molten lava cheese he just swallowed. She tried not to show any interest even though hundreds of questions wanted to escape her mouth. She wanted to ask when they started doing favors for each other and why he was acting like a caged animal. Instead, she settled for something that he would probably find a bit more in character considering their past interactions. “Would this be the type of favor that involved payment of some sort?”

“It will, if that gets the job done quicker,” Liam answered, staring intently at his half eaten slice.

“Well, that would depend on if we’re talking about an hourly rate or a flat fee,” she joked. “I have typically found that payment is the best way to insure a job gets done.”

Something was definitely bothering him and damn if that didn’t make the hair on the back of her neck stand up and chase a shiver down her spine. With a hint of disgust she threw her uneaten crust down on her plate. She already knew that whatever he was about to ask, she was going to agree to so she continued, “Might as well spit it out, I would like to go home and get some sleep sometime this century. What kind of favor do you need?

“The kind of favor that involves going away for a couple of weeks and solving a cold case.”

Of all the things she thought he was going to ask, actual work didn’t even make the top ten list so she was a little letdown. His discomfort had her prepared for anything from being a date to an ex’s wedding to a surprise twist of being asked to babysit his previously unknown kids. Even a mundane request to water his plants while he was on vacation would have been more interesting. She wasn’t entirely sure Liam was human and it would have been fascinating to see the lair he crawled back to when he wasn’t in the office.

“Why the cloak and dagger routine? You made me think something was horribly wrong,” she huffed. Picking up another slice, she thoughtfully examined his face. There was more to this request but she was afraid she was going to have to drag it out of him based on his body language. His eyes were shuttered, shoulders hunched in on himself, body twisted slightly to the side as if he had decided this was a mistake and he was on the verge of running out of the room. While she would dearly love to see Liam Jones run away from his problems like a mere mortal, she was clearly already too invested to let that happen. Quickly swiping her fingers across a napkin to rid them of the worst of the grease, she gently laid her hand on his forearm to hold him in place. “Whatever you need to say, it will go no further.”

Apparently those were the magic words to unlock whatever secret he thought he needed to keep because with a sharp intake of breath, he started his tale. “There is a town in Maine...”

—

Hours later, he was dropping her off at the entrance to her building with a promise to pick her up at six o’clock the following evening. She wasn’t crazy about starting out that late or the fact that they would hit the tail end of rush hour traffic but her mind was swimming with too many details to make her normal fuss. Honestly, she would need all the time she could get to go through the files stuffed in the briefcase he passed off to her as she emerged from the car.

Without registering the journey upstairs, she found herself opening the door to her apartment and immediately kicked off her heels with a moan while her toes curled a little to celebrate their freedom. Her dress had climbed up her thighs a bit during the car ride but she had a feeling she was the only one who noticed. She was pretty sure she could have been naked and Liam wouldn’t have paid any attention. He was just that kind of guy. Considering they were about to embark on a trip to his former hometown where they may end up having to give the impression of a relationship, she should probably be grateful that his only attraction to her seemed to be limited to her ability to find people and her reputation for being a spookily accurate human lie detector. For her part, all she wanted from him was a couple weeks of distraction from what was surely going to turn out to be a lonely summer. If she was getting paid for it, all the better.

Leaving her shoes where they fell in the entranceway, she grabbed a hair band from the narrow table that she privately thought of as their crap collector. She had never been the neatest person and she had passed that trait on to Henry so you could never predict what random stuff would be found on the table that served no other purpose than to be a catch all for the things they discarded when they arrived home.

Styling her long blonde hair into a messy bun, she pulled her ruined dress over her head and casually threw it in the direction of the laundry basket. Taking advantage of the fact that there wasn’t a ten-year-old at home that would be traumatized by her behavior, she lugged the briefcase to the kitchen island and spread the files across the countertop before walking back to her closet to slip into a pair of black yoga pants and a Red Sox tank top, not wanting to take the time to shower at the moment. Besides, she was the only one home to know how bad the smell of whiskey and sweat was after sitting for hours in a small office, stuffing her face with the unhealthiest pizza on the planet and getting drawn into the web of mystery that had made the always serious Mr. Jones even more somber.

Pouring a glass of wine, she climbed up on one of stools that formed a line that ran the length of the counter and pulled the top file to her. The photo paper-clipped to the inside showed a rundown pawn shop that might as well have had a neon sign flashing ‘Shady Place of Business.’ Below it was a list of names from various missing persons cases spanning thirty years.

Taking the first sip of wine, she murmured, “What have you gotten me into, Liam?”

She spent the next several hours combing through the files until her back hurt and her contacts felt scratchy in her eyes. It seemed like Jones Investigation had a file for everyone that lived in the town at the time of the burglary as well as newspaper clipping from the various investigations into the suspicious disappearance of citizens.

It was too much information to take in during the course of one night but Liam had been insistent that the files remain in Boston. He didn’t want to risk tipping off any suspects to the real reason for their trip should the paperwork be discovered. So, under direct orders from the former British Naval officer to memorize the facts, when she reached the end of the files, she would start over again. She sorted and resorted the files into stacks based on a variety of factors from chronological order to some distinguishing characteristic like age, proximity to crime, or possible motive.

If her attention kept wondering back to the grainy photo of one Killian Jones, brother of her dour compatriot, she blamed the wine and lack of sleep. Even the low quality of the picture couldn’t conceal that the younger Jones brother was an incredibly attractive man. However, he looked enough like Liam to make her interest unsettling and that was what finally pulled her away from her research and drove her to bed where she dreamed of blue eyes and a wicked smile.

—

For most of the trip, the only sound was of the sports commentators who nearly shouted out a play-by-play of a soccer match Liam had politely asked to listen to as they pulled out of her parking garage. The only other break in their silent commute was the subtle hum and thump of road noise occasionally making its way into the cabin. He had been unimpressed with her offer to take her car, not even bothering to acknowledge her when she suggested it and simply opening the lift gate to the large, dark colored Honda Pilot he had rented. If he noticed her surprise at finding several bags already in the truck and heard her sarcastic observation about packing light as she had to reposition some of his luggage to find a spot for her single gym sized duffel bag, he didn’t show it.

As she had predicted, they spent an hour stuck in traffic before getting beyond the city limits where the cars spread out and their follow drivers seemed to think that allowed them to indulge in NASCAR fantasies. She used the quiet to mentally go over the particulars of the case before them, secure in the knowledge that unless she magically sprouted another head Liam was unlikely to start up a conversation at this point in the trip.

Fact One: Leo and Ava Blanchard left for a date night and never returned home to their young daughter. There car was found broken down on the side of the road about a mile from their home. No sign of foul play, no trace of their whereabouts.

Fact Two: Shortly thereafter, there was a burglary at Gold’s Pawnshop on Main Street. No sign of forced entry and the owner claimed nothing had been stolen, but the alarm had been tripped from the inside. Having nothing to go on and with no stolen items to track down, the local law enforcement devoted a total of five minutes to the case. Basically as soon as the report was filed, the case was closed and life moved on.

Fact Three: Robert Nolan had a few too many at a bar one night, which apparently was a reoccurring circumstance, and never found his way back to his family. He was rumored to be involved in some illicit activities but no proof of a crime was ever found.

Fact Four: There appeared to be a bit of a lull for more than a decade and then a rapid secession of missing person reports: Regina Mills, Peter Wolfe, and finally Milah Gold.

It was the last one that seemed to drive Liam’s interest in the cases. Although he and his brother hadn’t relocated to the US until the early 2000s, it seemed his little brother quickly formed an attachment, which Emma read between the lines to mean had an affair, with the older wife of the town’s local businessman. After his wife vanished into thin air, Mr. Gold and the local police tried their best to pin her disappearance on Killian but could never come up with enough evidence to press charges.

The final piece came through sources Liam was disinclined to name. He had recently found out that a newly arrived visitor had been asking questions around town and according to his source, the visitor was a best-selling true crime author named August Booth who happened to be weeks away from publishing a tell-all book about the sordid history of the town.

Going into full protective mode, Liam had decided the best course of action was to return to the small town and solve the mystery, or potentially multiple mysteries if they were as interconnected as he thought, thereby clearing his brother’s name beyond all doubt.

If it had been anyone else who had asked for her help, she would have been flattered but she knew Liam to be practical above all else. He valued her skills but it was probably Henry’s absence that was the catalyst for this particular partnership. He needed an extra set of eyes and ears and she was a known element who was conveniently available for a long term undercover assignment. Still, he had trusted her with the family secrets, or at least his brother’s secrets, so she was trying to be mindful this wasn’t simply another case for him.

She wasn’t convinced the non-burglary and series of disappearances he seemed to think connected would turn out to be anything but she knew better than to discard possibilities this early on. She also wasn’t convinced that parading in front of his family and friends as a girlfriend was a good game plan.

“I think we need to revisit this cover story,” she said as he pulled off the highway and into the lot of a gas station.

“If you can find a more convincing reason for me to show up with a strange woman, I will gladly listen to it,” he replied before exiting the car and fading away into the dark night.

“No, I wouldn’t like anything from the store, thanks for asking,”she called out to his back, wanting to nettle him in retaliation for his rudeness although she doubted he heard her. According to the GPS, they were only about forty-five minutes from their destination, a place called Granny’s Diner. She tried to research the town, including restaurants, venues, and things to do but it was as if Storybrooke existed out of the modern age. While you could find it on maps, there wasn’t an internet presence at all. There were no tourism sites, despite the fact that most little towns that dot the Atlantic coast were in peak season for welcoming travelers. It appeared that chains and national franchises had no interest in the sleepy town either. There were no notable residents making their marks on the world at large, no complaints on business sites, no reviews of the natural beauty to be found in its forests and parks.

The sound of Liam returning to the vehicle and pumping gas broke her train of thought. Hearing the gentle chime of her phone, she took the opportunity to check her texts before they got back on the road. Smiling a little at seeing Henry’s name on her notifications, she clicked the message and was rewarded with a silly photo of him pretending to be eaten by a shark at one of the selfie stations located on a pier in whatever seaside town they were currently visiting. She text him back a thumb’s up, following it quickly with a good night and reminder that she would send him the details of where she was staying in the morning.

Running her finger gently over her son’s happy grin in the photo, she didn’t greet Liam as he climbed back into the car.

“That’s a nice picture,” he mumbled, clicking his seatbelt in place before pulling out and rejoining the dwindling line of cars heading north. “Is he having a good time?”

“Looks like it,” she answered, turning her head away somewhat embarrassed to feel the prick of tears in her eyes. She wasn’t an emotional person but she missed the kid something fierce.

Either he was being exceptionally sensitive to her distress or he didn’t notice it because they lapsed back into silence until they were about fifteen minutes from the town line. Deciding next to the last minute was as a good a time to broach the topic again as any, she picked up on her earlier comment as if it hadn’t been over half an hour ago. “Listen, I’m not saying I have a better cover but maybe we could not volunteer the girlfriend story. You know, keep our options open unless someone asks us directly. Or maybe actually tell them we are there to investigate.”

Hope for a rational debate on the merits of her suggestions was immediately crushed when he actually started to laugh. “You’ve never lived in a small town, have you?”

“No, but what does that have to do with anything?”

“Emma, I left five years ago under some difficult circumstances—“

“What circumstances? How difficult?”

“That’s need to know, lass,” he interrupted in a tone that cautioned against any further questions. “If it had anything to do with our case, I would have already told you. Let me assure you that everyone will know of our arrival within minutes of the car entering town. There will be a description of you circulating before you wake up tomorrow morning. There is no way people aren’t going to ask us directly and repeatedly the nature of our visit and relationship.”

She was about to interrupt again so he held up a hand to stall her and added, “And if we decline to provide details, they will make them up. Trust me, it’s better to control the story than to have eyes following us everywhere trying figure it out for themselves. As far as openly investigating a crime, you’re daft if you think they won’t clam up the second you start asking questions. In my experience people are more comfortable being a gossip than a snitch. If we are simply a couple enjoying a trip down memory lane, we will be able to move much more freely.”

“But your brother,” she countered weakly because she had to admit he had a point. “How can you lie to him? Surely he can be trusted with the truth. Not to mention that if we are staying with him, he’s going to notice that we don’t like each other.”

“What are you talking about? I’m quite fond of you. You’re one of my best friends,” he said in indignation.

Her jaw went slack with shock as she tried to process how she had slipped into some bizarro alternate reality. What in their past could possibly have given him the idea that they were friends, besties even. “I don’t know what—“ she sputtered. “Is this some weird British thing?”

He barked out a laugh that was so unlike him that she doubled down on her alternate reality theory. “Calm down, Emma. It was a joke. We aren’t friends exactly but I don’t dislike you. It will be fine. Pretend I’m one of your fake dates for a couple of weeks. Lucky for you, I’m an old-fashioned guy. Killian won’t think anything of us bunking separately.”

“There is old-fashioned and then there is being a monk, Liam. But whatever. I still think you should trust your brother. Especially since it’s his neck we’re trying to save.”

“I would trust him with my life. What I can’t trust is that he won’t go off half-cocked and muck up the investigation. He’ll understand why I did this as long as we get results.”

She believed that he believed what he was saying. She also believed he was wrong. As a person who always preferred the truth, no matter how painful, her gut told her that it would be a mistake to keep the younger Jones in the dark about the true purpose of their trip. However, besties or not, she knew the mulish tilt to Liam’s mouth indicated that for him the discussion was over.

At that moment, the high beams illuminated the Welcome to Storybrooke sign. She felt an ominous dread settle over her as they approached, turning in her seat to look at the sign as they passed.

It was the last thing she saw before the world exploded in glass shards, twisted metal, and smoke.

19 notes · View notes

imaginesupply · 4 years ago

Text

Homecoming - Chapter Five

(Gif’s not my own.)

Summary: The day has arrived, Captain Syverson is going home. For good, this time. He is going home to a civilian life he can hardly remember and a wife he barely knows, with memories of the war still fresh on his mind. Love might not be able to heal everything on its own, but it’s a good start.

Genres: Romance, drama.

Story warnings: Smut (always fully consensual), mentions of PTSD and nightmares and mental health, angst, hurt and comfort, fluff, mentions of war (minor), mentions of cheating (minor), mentions of pregnancy (very minor), police appearance (very minor), violence (very minor).

Notes:

It’s my first time writing for one of Henry’s characters and I’m unsure I did Sy’s character any justice.

This is a Capt. Syverson x OFC (Ada) story, written in 3rd person POV but OFC’s physical description is very limited so it could also be read as Capt. Syverson x Reader, I think.

English is not my first language, so there might be some mistakes. Proofread, but not beta’ed. We die like men and all that.

Timeline is a little wacky: The movie takes place in 2003 and the U.S. forces were withdrawn from Iraq in 2011, but I never set a precise date because I don’t think it’s essential for this story. However, some elements might not be realistic because if we set this story in 2003: Phone cameras quality was not as good as it’s now, but for the purpose of the chapters, I will need you to imagine you could film great videos with your flip phone haha. Plus, it says Sy is coming back after being deployed for more than three years which makes no sense unless we set this in 2006 or later. I am asking you disregard any time inconsistencies.

Also: I am not American. I only lived in the US for six months and it was in the Midwest, not Texas so please bear with me if I write something stupid.

Finally: This will be a Christmas fic and I intend to post the last chapter (there will be seven in total) on or before Christmas. However, religion is never mentioned in this story and the Christmas-sy elements of this story are limited to family gathering, gift giving and tree decorating.

Chapter Five starts after the cut. (Chapter Four can be found here.) Let me know if you wish to be tagged in future chapters or if you wish to be removed from the tag list.

A/N: I am aware of the neutral, perhaps positive, portrait of the police I painted in this chapter. I am fully conscious of the recent (and not so recent) instances of police brutality happening all around the world, many – if not most – of them motivated by racism and other despicable ideologies. With this chapter, I did NOT mean to express support for the police forces. I simply had this ‘plot’ idea come to my mind and decided to write it. There is no ulterior motive.

While all my personal experiences with the police have been positive, I am aware that my ethnicity gives me privilege and that many people are not as lucky as I am. This both angers and saddens me. It has to change.

Black lives matter. Minority lives matter.

Chapter 5

Chapter warnings: Cockwarming, irresponsible driving (kind of), car accident (not serious), police (but no police violence), very mild violence, language (perhaps a little bit worse than in previous chapters but nothing you don’t hear in real life, I guess), mentions of mysogyny.

Ada yawned with Sy quickly following suit. “You can drive my car if you want, Sy. It’s not that new anymore, you know.” She offered, gracing him with the most angelic smile she could muster. It was the first time she was granting him the opportunity to drive her car.

Sy laughed next to her, his left hand moving over the center console to rub her thigh. He had that stupid grin again, that looking endearing with his current droopy eyes. “It’s your car, darlin’. Besides, you’d kill me if I ever so much as got a scratch on it.” He chuckled, suppressing another yawn. “And I know you’re only offering because you want to sleep.”

His wife gasped, a look of mocking offense on her features. “They’re your nephews!”

“But you were the one who said yes,” Sy countered, his eyes closing again as he made himself more comfortable on the car seat. The drive home was only about one hour and a half, but it was the perfect length for a nap.

“What the fuck was I supposed to say, huh?” Ada laughed, gesticulating wildly as was her habit. “Yes, Joshua, I understand you’re taking my pregnant sister-in-law to the hospital. No, I will not look after your kids for the night. It’s our date night.”

Next to her, Sy grimaced. She did have a point, even if he had been looking forward to going bowling with her: Ada was a sore loser which always ended with lots of fun for him. At least, his sister and the baby were okay. Just a normal case of Braxton Hicks, apparently, whatever that was supposed to mean. Perhaps it was good thing Ada didn’t want children because he’d freak out if she started having contractions four months in. “You fell asleep on Luke’s bed at one in the morning when you tried to get him to sleep for the third time and I had to spend the whole night entertaining them with tea parties because they wouldn’t tire!”

“Hey! That’s not cool!” She protested accusatorily, her eyes on the road as she switched lanes to take the next exit. “I didn’t know you couldn’t give kids sugar after a certain hour!”

Sy huffed, shaking his head. They’d had the great idea to bring donuts because according to his dear wife, sugar always made you feel better when you was anxious or down, and the kids had been aware something was off with their mom. “We suck at this parenting thing.”

“You don’t say!” Ada laughed, before loudly cursing at driver who’d just cut her off, something which never failed to make Sy smile. “The nap’s going to feel heavenly once we’re home.”

Sy hummed in agreement, his head falling back against the headrest as he drifted off, hiding his eyes from the sun with his cap. Ada glanced sideways at him, shaking her head. Part of her wanted to shake him awake. If she had to suffer, so did he. But he was right, she had slept more than him and he looked too peaceful to disturb, especially with some leftover glitter still on his cheeks.

Suddenly, there was a mild thump and the car stuttered before stopping, startling Ada who jumped on her seat.

"Shit!" She cursed. "Did I just...?" She began to panic, her eyes moving to the red car in front of them, too close. She had bumped it while she had been distracted by her husband’s stupid, sleepy face!

"Yes, yes you did," Sy laughed next to her. Ada was a good driver and she loved driving, but she was easily distracted and Sy never failed to tease her about it. This time, however, he could tell she was scared from the way her chest was heaving with her shallow breaths. "Want me to deal with it, darlin'?" He offered, tilting his head at the other driver who had just come out of the red, broken-down car.

"No!" Ada protested all too quickly, taking off her seatbelt and grabbing the necessary documents from the glovebox, accidentally hitting his knees in the process. "I am an independent woman who don't need no help," she muttered, trying to convince herself of her own statement. In the eight years since she’d had her gotten her licence, she had never given any of her cars a single scratch, let alone gotten into an accident.

Sy grinned at her antics but tried to hide his amusement, not wanting to make it worse. "All right. I'm here in case you need me, okay?" With a determined nod in his direction, Ada stepped out of the car and attempted to summon the Annalise Keating or the Olivia Pope inside her, whichever she could find in herself.

The man from the red car, who seemed to be in his early forties and balding, was already inspecting his vehicle for damage – looking mighty pissed as he did so. Ada approached the impact point from the other side, noticing the bump on the man’s old car. It didn't look too bad, she sighed with relief. Her own car barely had anything. Ha! She would have to use this as an argument next time Sy and her started discussing cars. Her black Citroën DS5 was sturdy and not just fancy looking, unlike what he said.

"Hello, sir," she said calmly, the man instantly looking up at her. Damn! He really looked furious, seething even. "I am so sorry for this. I was a little distracted- Anyway, it doesn't matter. My insurance will cover whatever repairs your car may require."

"You stupid little bitch!" The man shouted, out of the blue.

Ada gasped, backtracking. The muscles in her jaw twitched. What the fuck was wrong with him? "I understand your anger, but there's no-"

"What were you even doing behind that wheel?" He snarled, gesturing at her car, her baby. "Who the hell lets women like you drive cars like that?!” The man cursed, aggressively waving his hand in the air.

She just stood there, still in shock. Did... did he just bring misogyny into a fender bender situation?! "Women like me?!" She repeated, quite stunned.

"Aye! Bitches like you have no business driving-”

Ada flinched at the man’s words. He was starting to breech the distance between them, moving too close to her. Ada jumped again when she felt a warm hand on her shoulder before realizing it belonged to Sy and letting herself exhale slowly. Thank God he didn’t listen to her and stayed in the car!

"I get that you’re pissed, but that's no way to talk to a lady. You should to apologize," Sy told the man, making it sound very much like an order and very little like a suggestion. The driver huffed before coming closer, his face about as red as the car as when he started laughing. Ada instinctively hid under Sy's arm, though she aware of the ridicule of the whole situation.

"That's your whore? You let your whore drive your car?!"

Okay, this was going too far. It left her lips before she could help it, "that's my own goddamn car, you wanker!". Maybe it was time to stop borrowing insults from Tom.

Ada could almost hear how his jaw clenched when she felt Sy's whole body tense up against hers. "Call her a whore one more time and you're gonna wish she had run you over instead."

This was escalating. Ada bit her lower lip. She was going to have to be the bigger person here. "Look, I'll just go grab my phone from the car and call the police. They'll deal with this." Ada announced, dislodging herself from Sy’s grip before turning around to get to her car.

Her hand had just wrapped around the car door handle when there was a clouting noise, quickly followed by a loud thump, this time. Ada immediately turned around at the sound. The angry driver was out cold on the ground, blood rushing out of his nose and forehead, with Sy looking down at him, the same blood tainting his fist.

"Oh shit!"

°°°

A lanky guy, smelling heavily of pot, was thrown inside the almost full holding cell by the same officer who had arrested him. Sy was amused at the sight until the guy, after a full survey of the room, started walking him up to him before sitting down on the bench far too close for his liking.

Exhaling through his nose, Sy tried ignoring the smell and closed his eyes again. He didn’t expect the nap he had been looking forward to, to be in a stinky cell with stinky men but it would have to make do. At least, after the man sitting closest to the entrance had commented on the leftover pink glitter that still shone in Sy’s beard, nobody had bothered him anymore – not after he quite literally made the man piss himself with just one stare. That man wouldn’t have survived a single day in Baqubah.

"It's cramped in here," the new guy commented nonchalantly though his eyes were fixed on Sy. Out of politeness - damn Ada and her insistence on good manners! - Sy acknowledged his useless statement with a noncommittal hum.

"Name's Ben, by the way," he said, stretching out of his hand but Sy didn’t move a muscle. What was it in his current posture - crossed arms and spread legs - that made him appear friendly enough for a chat, he wondered, rolling his eyes behind his closed eyelids.

"And you are...?"

Sy groaned out loud time. "Not interested."

Ben didn’t get the hint and proceeded to ramble off about how he got caught selling pot near the university. Sy was actively working on drowning out his voice when the sound of fast and angry clicking heels on the concrete floor caught his attention. He smiled. Ada. Apparently, she hadn’t changed and was still dressed for date night, wearing a dress and stilettos, even though they had only meant to go bowling and eat at a steakhouse.

Somehow, everyone in the holding cell must have been intrigued by the same sound because all conversation suddenly stopped, the men all hoping to eavesdrop.

"I am here for Syverson. I wish to talk to him."

"Ma'am, I apologize but we are not allowed to let him out of his cell."

"Not a problem. Just give me the keys and I'll let him out myself!"

Every person in the holding cell laugh with Sy grinning quietly, amused at how she sounded distinctively more foreign when she was mad. He was used to her accent in more intimate settings, but he was enjoying the sound of it during her current outburst which was followed by an uninterrupted string of curse words and insults alike, all coming from her delicate mouth. First, in English, then French. Spanish. Portuguese. Italian. Sy frowned at the last one, he didn’t recognize it. Was it German? He'd have to ask her.

"What a woman, huh," the guy next to him deadpanned, still not giving up on a conversation.

Silence fell again as everyone attempted to listen to the rest. “I swear to God I’ll hang your heads up in my living room if –“

Sy only huffed, leaning back against the cold wall. "You can't even begin to imagine."

"You know her?" The pothead quipped up.

"Yeah," Sy replied. "She’s my wife." He said it loud enough to make sure everyone was able to hear it.

“Oh,” came the nasal voice next to him just as they heard heavy, resigned footsteps become louder.

A different policeman stopped just behind the door, a colleague just behind him as he fished out the right key from his pocket. “Syverson,” he called out loudly. “There’s a woman here for you.”

Sy got up at once, unable to hide his smug smirk. Ada always got her way.

°°°

“What the fuck were you thinking, Sy?!” His wife blurted out as soon as she was let inside the interview room, the young officer locking the door from the outside. Then, turning around, she caught sight of her husband handcuffed to the table and her shoulders instantly slacked, her anger vanishing almost instantly. “What you did was disproportionate,” she sighed, her voice calmer as she took a seat in front of him, the cold iron table separating them.

"He called you a whore, I just punched him!" Sy protested, leaning back on the chair. "My response was disproportionate - disproportionately small."

"You knocked him out cold!" Ada reminded him, her voice pitching higher than usual but the only response she got from Sy was a smug grin. "He might press charges, you know. It's battery."

Sy rolled his eyes, sitting up straight. "He’s an asshole."

Now, it was her turn to roll her eyes although she knew he hated it when she did that. She took a deep breath, hoping to calm down. Sy was looking entirely unbothered, but she was freaking out at the situation. "I'll try to convince him not to press charges and offer to cover the medical bill on top of the car repairs in return."

"Medical bill?" Sy asked, cocking his eyebrow.

"Yes. After the police took you into custody, he was brought to the hospital. From what I heard, he has a broken nose, needed stitches on his forehead and got a concussion." Sy only huffed with a smirk. "This is not funny, Syverson!"

"It wasn't funny when he called you a whore either," Sy countered. He was right. It was also very pleasant to see that dickhead in pain, but she wouldn’t tell him that.

"Look, my friend, Gale, who's a lawyer, is on her way. I'll get you out of here tonight. He’ll either agree to drop the charges or I’ll bail you out."

The corners of his lips twitched. He moved his hands as much as the chain allowed, to grab hers and squeeze them in his large ones. "Are you worried about me, darlin'?"

What a teasing little shit he could be! Of course, she was worried about him! He was in a cell! Feigning innocence, Ada smiled, running her thumbs over the back of his hands. "I am not. However, seeing what you did to that prick just got me really horny and I would like to have you back in my bed tonight," she whispered, watching as her husband’s smug grin slowly disappeared as she got up and grabbed her purse, heading to the door.

"You better get me out of here quickly!" Sy called after her.

°°°

He was returned to the holding cell, the officer uncuffing his wrists again once the bars closed behind him. There were two new faces, but he also recognized that at least three men had left already. Unfortunately, pothead was still there.

“I saved you your spot,” Ben smiled wildly, gesturing at the vacant portion of the bench next to him. “The guy in the red shirt was going to sit here but I told him it was occupied.”

Sy merely hummed, taking the seat that had so generously been saved for him. Hopefully Ada would get him out quickly because he didn’t know how much longer he could deal with his chatty neighbour.

“Was she mad?” Ben asked, whispering loudly and defeating the entire purpose of a whisper in the first place. “Did she yell at you?”

Despite his closed eyes, Sy could feel Ben’s stare on him as he awaited an answer. “No.”

Ben nodded thoughtfully, shaking the uneven bench as he did so. “If we go to prison, I want to share a cell with you.”

If Ada didn’t get him out of there quickly, he was soon going to get charged for battery again.

°°°

Sy stood by the counter, his attention on the ugly Christmas decorations he hadn’t noticed when they brought him in hours earlier. Somehow, he had managed to forget all about it. And fuck, he still needed to get Ada a present!

“Here are your things,” the young officer told him as he slid over a transparent plastic bag.

With a curt nod, Sy ripped it open and fetched his wedding band first, before looking for his wallet and belt. He was already heading to the door when he turned around at the last minute. “Did Mrs. Syverson post my bail?”

“No, the charges were dropped.”

Huffing with amusement and a hint of pride, Sy zipped up his coat and headed to the front door. He swiftly descended the stairs in front of the precinct, his face illuminating at the sight of her. She was still wearing the black dress and the fancy shoes, her makeup now lightly smudged around her eyes.

As soon as he was close enough, his hands moved to Ada's waist and he leaned down to kiss her, only for her to pull away at his touch. "Not so fast, big guy," she teased, a glint in her eyes as she grabbed something out of her coat pocket he couldn't yet identify. "You're still in trouble."

Sy threw back his head, his laugh booming through the night sky as he finally saw what she was holding up in front of him. Handcuffs, and not the fluffy ones either.

"Now gimme your hands," Ada demanded, making him cock his brow at her authoritative tone.

With a chuckle he obeyed, presenting her his hands. "Yes, ma'am."

Sy watched keenly as she fumbled with the cuffs to get them around his wrists, and then seized the right opportunity to take the upper hand, easily taking the cuffs away from her small hands.

With a shriek, Ada found herself bent over the black hood of her own car, her cheek pressed up against the slick surface and her husband's body pressed up against hers. She could hear the smirk in his voice when he spoke. "Mrs. Syverson, you're under arrest for unlawful teasing back in the questioning room." Ada scoffed, the sound weakened by his heavy weight on top of her. "You have the right to remain silent. Everything you do say can and will be held against you in-"

"Your dick!" Ada suddenly blurted out, a little too loud given where they were, and Sy immediately stopped, clearly surprised, but she quickly felt him laugh against her back.

Before she could join him, Sy smacked her ass, effectively silencing her. "Guess I'll have to fuck that attitude out of you," he grunted before pulling away and fastening the cuffs around her wrists.

Ada kept complaining as he carefully dragged her inside the car. Despite her struggling, Sy easily opened the right backdoor and threw her on the backseat, mindful to fasten her seatbelt before closing the door. Her eyes widened and her mouth went agape when Sy sat down behind the steering wheel and proceeded to push back the driver’s seat and readjust all the mirrors.

“Are you shitting me?” She exclaimed, leaning forward on her seat as much as the belt would allow. He was messing up with all her settings and the grin on her face made it very clear that he was doing it all on purpose just to get her riled up.

“Language, darlin’,” he chided, turning on the engine. “Didn’t you ask me to drive earlier, anyway?”

Ada groaned in response, shutting her eyes tightly before opening them again. “You know very well that was-“

Sy didn’t let her finish, the tires squealing on the tar as he sped out of the parking lot all too fast. Ada involuntarily cringed at the noise. “I’ll make you pay for this!”

“We’ll see, kitten. We’ll see.” He was entertaining by her determination even though her eyes were already closing.

As expected, Ada fell asleep within five minutes despite the handcuffs keeping her arms in an uncomfortable position. Her head lolled before it finally came to rest against the window. He watched her though the central mirror, an adoring look in his blue eyes as she sighed contently the very moment she had fallen asleep. While he had managed to rest while in the cell, though not as much as he had hoped, he knew Ada had been up all afternoon trying to sort everything out and get him out. Sy had noticed her exhaustion as soon as she started fumbling with the handcuffs, her movements uncharacteristically clumsy.

He stopped at a junk food drive thru on their way home – night had already fallen and he hadn’t eaten anything since breakfast. He doubted she had either. Her eyes didn’t even flutter under the bright neon lights and once he parked the car on their driveway and went to carry her inside along with their food, after undoing the cuffs, her body was completely limp in his arms. It was only when he accidentally let her shoulder hit the doorframe as he tried to lead them inside their bedroom, that she woke up again. “Ouch!”

“Sorry,” Sy murmured and kissed her forehead before laying her down on the bed and setting down the bag on the mattress next to her. Her nose wrinkled as she sniffed the air even as he helped her out of her coat and dress, and then the shoes. “Did you get us food?”

“Tenders and fries.”

Within an instant, she had ripped the bag open and was clutching the bucket of chicken to her chest, moaning as soon as she took a bite. He smiled knowingly at her– she had been hungry after all.

Hurriedly, Sy took off his clothes and slid in bed behind his wife, wrapping an arm around her waist to pull her closer to him. They hadn’t slept together the previous night as they babysat the kids and he had missed the feel of her soft body against his. A content hum escaped him as his already partially hard cock nestled against the roundness of her ass.

Ada chuckled at his reaction, the vibrations of her body sending sparks of pleasure to his growing erection. “I have an idea,” she whispered, her voice becoming seductive again as she started rubbing herself against him.

Sy groaned deeply and tightened his grip on her waist, forcing her to still even though he was no longer sure for what he now hungered more; food or his wife. “We’re both hungry and exhausted,” he reasoned with her, his fingers moving some hair away from her neck so that he could kiss her there.

“Let me,” she insisted, a grin audible in her voice. Her hands disappeared under the bedsheets and she slid off her panties before retaking her initial position as the little spoon. Behind her, Sy groaned as her delicate fingers took hold of his cock, giving it a few pumps before guiding him inside her warmth. He muffled a soft moan against neck at the snug feeling of tight her walls, his arm tightening around her again. She let out a quiet gasp at the stretch, it hurt a little despite her still being sufficiently wet from when he had pushed her against the hood of the car. But once he was fully inside, Ada sighed at the pleasure of being again. “Now we can eat.”

°°°

There are two more chapters to go! Next chapter will include Christmas tree decorating. I am running behind on schedule so I cannot guarantee the last chapter will be posted by Christmas but I’ll do my best.

°°°

@colourmeinblue @hail-horror-queen @youthought-iwasa-nicegirl @kmuir1 @madbaddic7ed @coffeebreathy @purplelove75 @summersong69 @helenaellie

#henry cavill smut #syverson smut #henry cavill x ofc #syverson x ofc #henry cavill x reader #syverson x reader #syverson fluff #henry cavill fluff

135 notes · View notes

faulty-writes · 4 years ago

Note

Hi there! I'm not sure if this fits the request, but if it's okay, could I request Muriko with a female s/o coming out as Bi. Like nobody expected it, then Muriko is like "HELL YEAH, THAT'S MEANS A CHANCE FOR ME" and asks her out last minute before some guy did.

[ So, I got your other message saying you wanted a one-shot and the plot you laid out. Just so you know, I only watch the anime. I don’t read the manga...yet. So I’m basically winging our little Bunny girl. But, I hope you enjoy nonetheless. ]

Being a sidekick might not be glorious, but it had its advantages. You were recognized for one, praised for your help, and when you distanced yourself from your hero and bravely fought against the villains. Held down your own. Your hero rank rose, just a little. Given you were more than happy to be working alongside Mirko, the often overexcitable, rule-breaking, bunny hero. Of course, many were surprised when Mirko announced she’d be taking a sidekick as she preferred to work solo most of the time.

Teamwork wasn’t her style as many would say, yet that didn’t stop the thousands of sidekicks that flocked to her Agency in hopes to pass the audition and get the spot next to her. You weren’t a well-known hero, you worked a regular day job and merely got your hero license so you could protect others when needed. But you were nothing compared to the Pros out there, still, you felt as though you needed a change and forced yourself to go to the audition.

Though it was a little intimidating considering most of the sidekicks that were present, had a good record, and were rather high in popularity while you...were not. But somehow or another, Mirko had chosen you out of the bunch. For what reason, was unknown and while you had tried to get an answer from her. She’d only smirk and point her finger at you, “What’s it matter eh!? I chose you and that’s all! Be happy there, pretty face!” she’d always slap you on the back after and you’d groan, she hit hard even when she wasn’t trying.

There was something strange about Mirko that you couldn’t quite put your finger on. Given she was a beautiful and sometimes reckless woman, you often felt her stare on you whenever you returned to the Agency and somehow or another, whenever you got hurt. It seemed like she was more concerned about your well-being, even if she had gotten a few bruises herself. Whenever you were walking up to her and she was in the middle of a conversation with someone else.

The moment she saw you, her eyes would light up and she’d pull you close. You’d always choke when her arm pressed against your neck. She was a little rough around the edges. “There she is! My little kickass sidekick! Isn’t she just adorable? Huh, huh!?” you’d always get embarrassed, it was almost like Mirko wanted to show you off. But you weren’t some sort of doll, even though you owed the hero a lot.

If it weren’t for her you wouldn’t have gotten a taste of the spotlight. You were happy to serve under her and even protect her when you needed to, not that she needed it. At all. But you liked to pretend you could protect your hero. Regardless, being around Mirko was like being around a completely different type of energy. Which you didn’t necessarily mind, but sometimes it became too overwhelming and you needed your own space.

On days like this, you would often shy away from Mirko and spend time with your coworkers. The fellow people that made this Agency run smoothly, though one male employee seemed awfully interested in you. “Where’s Mirko? Aren’t you usually with her after a mission is completed?” he questioned and you shrugged, “Sometimes I just need a break, Mirko is great and all but…” you paused as you finished putting quarters into the machine and pressed the drink you wanted.

The machine made a noise but dispensed no drink. “Huh? Oh, cheap piece of junk!” you snapped and slammed your fist against it. “Damn it, I don’t have any change left…” you muttered as you reached into your empty pockets as if coins would magically appear. “Hey that’s alright, I got you.” you blinked and looked at your fellow coworker. “Wait...really?” you questioned as he got up and stepped in front of the soda machine.

“Yeah, consider it a thank you for protecting the city and...just because you’re cute.” you felt a little uneasy as he winked at you, was he trying to flirt? Meanwhile, Mirko was becoming a little restless. Eagerly tapping her foot against the floor, “Where the hell is she? Where’s my sidekick!? Her attractive ass should be here with me…” Mirko spoke with a soft growl and the receptionist nearby noticed the unusual behavior.

“I believe she said something about getting a drink, try the soda machine down the hall,” they suggested and Mirko turned to glare at them. “I could have bought her a drink…” she muttered before stomping away, her tail angrily twitching. “Hm?” when she caught the sound of your voice her ears perked up a bit, however, she also picked up someone else’s voice. “Ah, what the hell.” she groaned, though she hated to admit it.

She often got jealous when you, her precious little sidekick, talked to others. Yeah, yeah you had every right to. But Mirko still considered you hers. Even though she knew she didn’t have a chance, which sucked. She narrowed her eyes once she had you in view and couldn’t help but cross her arms with a huff. This is the kind of man you chose to flirt with or rather that you attracted?

She could easily beat any suitor that was after you that is if...if only you weren’t fucking straight. She had half a mind to walk over there and smash the man’s face in, but unfortunately as a hero that wouldn’t be good for her image. Instead, she stood there in the shadows. Deciding to eavesdrop on the conversation with a frown on her face, you sounded like you were having a good time talking to him. Didn’t she make you happy too? She growled softly, feeling her stomach twist with jealousy.

“Aw, come on! You gotta eat don’t you? We can just consider it a business lunch...” you couldn’t help but chuckle, he tried so hard. Though you always turned him down, you didn’t exactly understand why he always tried to flirt with you. There were other female coworkers he could spend time with, your time, in particular, was dedicated to Mirko.

“I’m not really hungry, but thank you for the offer,” you replied, making the man drop his shoulders in disappointment. “Is it me?” he questioned, “I mean...it must be me, right? I’m no big strong hero. I just work here as part of the insurance company tied to Mirko’s Agency.” you wanted to roll your eyes, part of you hated when others played the role of the victim when it wasn’t necessary. You took a deep breath and shook your head.

“I don’t care about looks or status, hell I don’t even care about gender. I swing both ways, but the point is. I’m not too sure if you’re my type and well…” you paused when you noticed the strange looks you were getting. The few coworkers that surrounded you seemed wide-eyed and you weren’t really sure why. Was it something you said? “Uh, you guys okay?” you questioned, however, Mirko seemed rather overjoyed.

Practically clamping down on her lip to prevent herself from screaming out in happiness. YES. So her attraction to you wasn’t wrong! Hah, perhaps she shouldn’t have doubted herself so much. After all, she could turn the straightest of women into bunny lovers. That is if she really tried, but now she had a clear mission. She wouldn’t let anyone else have you, by the end of the day. You’d be telling everyone “I’m Mirko’s girlfriend.” she chuckled to herself as she rubbed her hands together.

“Oh fuck yeah! You’re gonna be mine.” she declared before pumping her fist in the air. Of course, there were obstacles in the way and she’d take care of one right now. She grinned as she kicked off the ground, skillfully maneuvering her body so her legs were straight out. You didn’t even register she was above you until you watched her land on your coworker. He gave a cry as his face was implemented into the floor, leaving behind a large dent.

Your jaw immediately dropped and you looked horrified, but Mirko was smiling. Like she had done something worthy of being praised. “Hi there, pretty face,” she said before brushing a piece of her hair back. “Come, let’s get lunch.” she insisted before grabbing your wrist and dragging you along, unlike most. You knew better than to argue with Mirko. Despite the fact you weren’t hungry, Mirko insisted on sharing a plate. That wasn’t like her seeing as the woman typically liked her food and she even bought you a drink.

Though you had tried to argue it was too early to drink, she laughed your words off and you got a little buzzed. The rest of the day after lunch was typical. You stayed at the agency and filled out the necessary forms from your patrol as well as spoke to the police and listened to the scanner in case any villains tried anything. It was a rather boring ending to the workday.

Mirko seemed rather intent on staying by your side and you weren’t too sure if you could trust that smile she wore and despite your best efforts to avoid her when leaving the agency. She caught up to you and once more insisted you go out to eat with her. “Look, I’m still a little dizzy from the first time we ate out so…” Mirko scoffed in response to your words and grinned before pulling you close.

“Come on! That’s a shitty attitude to have! I promise dinner with me is going to be amazing! I’ll spoil my little sidekick good!” she said before ruffling your hair. “And after, we can hit the bar! I’m sure your little ass can dance right?” you looked hesitant but once more you knew there was no chance in hell you could argue with her. “I don’t know about dance or if I can take any more alcohol…” you responded quickly before Mirko laughed and slapped your back, causing you to stumble forward.

“That’s quitters talk, pretty face! You gotta drink when you’re with me. We’ll have dinner at that exclusive restaurant, oh what the fuck is it called? I forget, but it doesn't matter.” she concluded before looking at you with a mischievous glance, “Uh...” you stepped away. “Just what are you…” you gasped when she quickly moved behind you and scooped you into her arms. You gave a squeak and your arms immediately wrapped around her neck.

Though you were a hero of sorts, you hated being off the ground. “Aw, what’s a matter? Are you scared?” Mirko teased and you growled, “Shut up!” you snapped, wondering what had gotten into the woman today. She usually wasn’t this touchy-feely or even insistent you spent time together like this. Then again, she was over-enthusiastic and did enjoy showing you off. So maybe you were merely overthinking things.

You held on tightly as she kicked off various buildings, sending both of you airborne and while you were terrified. The view of the night city was rather beautiful and almost put you at ease, in a way it made you feel like a damsel in distress. Being rescued and carried off by the hero, which more often than not was depicted as a male hero. Someone strong, brave, and handsome. Yet you were in the hands of a petite but strong and courageous woman who could handle her own.

Though, if that were true then why did she feel the need to have you around in the first place? What was her want in getting a sidekick in the first place? Once more you were reminded that you had never gotten an official answer from her. “Mm…” you muttered just before Mirko landed on the ground, “Ready for some good eats?!” she exclaimed and somehow you felt butterflies when you watched that smile come to her face, she was almost...cute.

She seemed to notice the way you stared, “What’s a matter? Lovestruck already?” you felt your face flush at her words and quickly glanced away. “No.” you denied, damn her. She chuckled once more and set you down on your feet. “Whatever you say, pretty face. Now let’s go get some grub.” she grabbed you by the shoulder and dragged you inside. Guess the advantage of being with a popular hero was the fact that you pretty much got whatever you wanted handed to you.

In this case, Mirko was granted an exclusive table and offered a bottle of wine which she immediately opened and insisted on a toast. You felt your stomach twist as you swirled the cup of wine before looking to Mirko. “A toast! To one of the best and originally unwanted sidekicks ever and the only fucking sense of normal I have in this otherwise kick-ass life! Cheers!” you blinked in response as she clinked your glasses together and promptly downed her glass.

Though you couldn’t help but wonder, what did she mean by sense of normal? How true was that? Was she hiding some secret from everyone? You glanced to the side, your wine untouched. You couldn’t help but look around, everyone else was dressed in such fancy attire that you couldn’t even hope to afford. You weren’t much for high-class places, so why did Mirko bring you here? It was almost like she was trying to impress you without actually taking part in the high-class act.

“Ah!” The bunny girl in question licked her lips after she finished her wine and slammed the cup back onto the table, catching some looks from the surrounding tables. But she outright ignored their stares as she was more focused on looking directly at you. “What’s a matter!? You haven’t touched your wine.” you jumped when you heard her voice and snapped your head back, “Oh uh...n-nothing. Um, I was just thinking…” you said sheepishly before taking a sip of your wine.

That seemed to be your weakness, trying to analyze not only a villain’s moves but everyone’s. Why they said what they did and what it meant. Maybe you’d be better off working for the police but the truth is, you loved being a sidekick. You were almost relieved when the dinner was over, almost. The horror came back when Mirko dragged you to the bar next door, you began to wonder just how much this woman could drink before she was satisfied.

The bar itself had dim lighting and a small dancefloor that provided the only real lighting as it flashed between colors. Mirko had insisted you sit at the bar while she ordered the drinks, you assumed that translated to she knew the bartender. You couldn’t help but sigh and curled your hands in your lap, this wasn’t your scene. In fact, you felt a little out of place. Well, maybe that was an understatement.

You were so lost in your own thoughts that you didn’t notice your coworker from earlier had sat down next to you. “Y/n.” your head turned, “Huh?” it was a little hard for you to recognize it was them at first. “Oh...hey, uh how are you? I didn’t know you came here.” he chuckled in response and laid his hand on your thigh, something that made you a little uncomfortable. “I could say the same for you,” he said as he leaned closer and that’s when you noticed the bruises on his face.

Guess that was the result of getting your face slammed into the floor. “I’m here with Mirko.” you replied in a flat tone and watched his face twist with panic, “She isn’t around right now is she?!” he exclaimed as he frantically looked back and forth. “Uh…” why was he freaking out so much? You reached down to push his hand off your thigh before answering him. “She’s getting the drinks,” you replied and though he still looked worried, his shoulders relaxed.

“Well, that’s too bad. I was going to buy you a drink, maybe I still can, what do you say?” he questioned with a purr and reached over to take your hand, “Uh…” you replied before he brought your hand up to his lips were he pressed a kiss to it. The action made a shiver run down your spine, “Um, right...I don’t know about that.” you said as you pulled your hand away from his.

“Well, how about we go out?” he questioned and you jumped in your seat. “Uh what?” he chuckled and a playful smile formed across his face. “I said how about we go-” his sentence was interrupted when several alcoholic beverages were poured over his head. You could smell the difference mixtures lingering in the air and it made you gag, “What the hell is your problem!?” he snapped as he whipped his head around to see Mirko, she stood there with a smirk.

“No problem here, but I’d prefer you don’t bother my date with your bullshit. It’s clear pretty face doesn’t want to go out with you. So get before my foot impales itself into your ass!” Mirko growled and for a brief moment, you got scared as you watched her face twist into a more devilish expression which seemed to be more than enough to scare your coworker away. You blinked in response before looking at Mirko.

“Uh...that seemed…” you tried to search for the right word, but Mirko just scoffed. “What unnecessary? Give me a break, those guys are just like villains. Can’t take no for an answer.” she declared as she placed her hand on her hip and looked at you. “Besides you’re my date and I don’t plan to hand you off to any half-assed shithead.” your eyes widened, “W-What do you m-mean d-d-date?” you responded, not that you didn’t like the sound of it.

Just, you didn’t recall Mirko even asking you out on a date. She seemed confused by your question. “Uh, what else does a date mean?” she responded before rolling her eyes. “Yeah, I didn’t ask you out or anything. I couldn’t find the time between all the bullshit, so I decided to try and spoil you instead. Besides that fool has been trying to ask you out for months. Had to beat him to it, didn’t I?” she questioned as she took the seat next to you.

“I’m going to have to get more drinks…” Mirko pouted but you were still full of questions, just staring at her with blank eyes. “Hm?” she turned her head to look at you, even in the dim lighting you could see her raise her eyebrow. “What?” she questioned before trying to flag down the bartender. “Look I promise I’ll ask you out properly later,” she said which made you finally drop your stare. “Just enjoy tonight for now and if you’re good, I might end up bringing you home tonight,” she said with a wink and you nearly fell out of your chair.

#mirko x reader #rumi x reader #bnha x reader #bnha requests #Anonymous

368 notes · View notes

readyplayerhobi · 5 years ago

Text

An Essay On Why Jungkook Is A Treasure

Jungkook should not have felt the need to apologise to fans.

Jungkook didn’t need to apologise to fans because he’d done nothing wrong.

I am genuinely...so furious and upset over how he’s treated by fans, anti’s and the media. This ridiculous sweet boy who was so introverted and shy upon arriving at Big Hit that he’d cry when asked to sing or wait till everyone else had gone to bed to shower. This boy who grew from an awkward teenager into a handsome man before our eyes and in turn grew into his wonderful personality.

Jungkook spends hours of his free time composing his own songs for us that he will one day release. He spends hours making coveres of himself singing songs, he spends hours videoing his best friends and editing those videos to release them for free. He puts out his photography and let’s us in when his personality says he probably doesn’t like doing that.

Because Jungkook is not extroverted like Hoseok, he’s not outgoing like Taehyung, he’s not bubbly like Jimin. When he’s only with BTS, he comes to life because they’re safe to him. He knows he can be himself, even with cameras on him. But when he’s put into a situation where he has to interact with other people, particularly people he doesn’t know, you can see that introverted boy come back.

He stands behind everyone, he looks for Namjoon for comfort and reassurance. He practices English and has his moments of boldness in interviews but mostly sits back and simply admires Namjoon speaking. He hides behind the members to avoid being seen sometimes and gets shy when asked to speak. He goes unbelievably shy when complimented in public, trying to deflect it onto his members instead.

Jungkook ALWAYS makes sure that his members are happy. He actively looks out for them, remembers them, talks to them and does things to make them laugh. Even if it makes him look stupid in a situation in which he’s naturally not comfortable (interviews, award shows etc), he does it because if they’re laughing then he’s happy.

Jungkook is probably the least aware of his own level of fame and money given how little he seems to spend on himself. He buys things for comfort, not because they’re fashionable or expensive. He flits between so many different interests and sometimes, I think this is because he wasn’t allowed to grow and explore himself like everyone else does during those pivotal years. When others were discovering their true interests and figuring themselves out, Jungkook had to sit behind a mask and grow up in the spotlight of thousands and then millions. He’s only 22 after all! Which is why I think he seems to struggle keeping interest in anything except for music, the gym, filmography, photography and gaming.

And yet despite this, despite him being the sweetest and most endearing person, he gets unbelievable levels of hate? He gets into a small car accident (which wouldn’t even be a big deal here in the UK, like...you probably wouldn’t even call the police, just tell your insurer) yet everyone freaks out and it becomes news worthy in different countries. He hangs out with some friends and ends up in a dating scandal because people stalked him, all of which broke out when he was on the way to New Zealand?! And then he felt the need to apologise for it. Apologise for having a fucking LIFE?! He wasn’t doing anything wrong for god’s sake. He ends up in news articles when freaking anti’s trend a hashtag, not even for anything legitimate?!

He gets tattoos finally because he likes them and everyone freaks out over it. I genuinely think that he covers them on shows/TV to avoid Korean broadcasting rules but he covers them every other time because he knows that he’ll end up getting a lot of shit. Notice that Jungkook finally, FINALLY, began to use social media more last year? And then the whole scandal/s happened and he just...stopped. Again.

This just...really angers me. Jungkook is insanely talented, we all know this. BTS knows this, he knows it. But he’s not arrogant, he’s not cocky, he’s not an asshole about it. Maybe behind doors he’s entirely different, but I don’t really think someone who ALWAYS bows to fans and those older than him, who bows to a grandma in the middle of a concert, who goes into the crowd to personally meet someone in a wheelchair, who speaks so honestly and earnestly in his vlive’s and more, is truly an asshole.

I can’t attest to it, but Jungkook looks to have the same kind of personality as me to a degree. Extroverted, loud and funny when with people he feels completely comfortable and safe with but shy and awkward when around new people he doesn’t know. Which makes my heart break for him when he just gets such nastiness constantly, because I can’t imagine what it does to his confidence.

This is Jungkook, who looks at Namjoon like he holds the answer to life and the universe.

Jungkook, who finds happiness and comfort from being with Hoseok.

Jungkook, who teases and loves Yoongi unconditionally.

Jungkook, who acts like Seokjin’s real little brother who he raised for years.

Jungkook, who laughs and plays with Jimin and is always there to support him.

Jungkook, who encourages Taehyung and has such similar interests.

He doesn’t deserve to feel guilty for having a life outside of being a puppet for fans, he doesn’t deserve to have to continually apologise for just living and enjoying himself. Jungkook...you grew up before us and I finally feel that you’re embracing who YOU want to be instead of who you think WE want you to be.

All I want...is for Jungkook to simply laugh and smile and be happy without being constantly dragged for the smallest thing he does. It makes my heart hurt to think of him feeling guilty or ashamed because he can’t reach the lofty goals that have been set for him by people sometimes.

#i just have feelings about jungkook okay?#he doesn't deserve the hatred he gets #he's just...so sweet #seeing him say that he didn't think he should be happy and laughing #just because people took it too far #the poor guy must be terrified at actually dating if this the reaction to such minor things #jungkook

2K notes · View notes

arwenaminwho · 4 years ago

Text

Trust

Hey guys! I know it's been a while since I shared a story, and I said I would but with quarantine my will to write something was gone. But now I am back and I will try to write more. (Maybe the next one will be about LOTR or HP idk)

So here’s my second Bruce Wayne story. This is my thirth English story (English is not my native language) so I’m really sorry if I did any mistakes I tried my best. And I don’t know much about American law system or the terms, so forgive me if I did any mistakes. Thank you for the ones who read and I would really, really appreciate if you guys give me feedback! Enjoy! (I hope.)

Batman x Female!Reader Angst! Fluff!

Word count: 2,913

The sky was beginning to darken to remind people that it was finally time to leave the work behind and go home to rest. But not everyone had that chance. It was hard to be a lawyer in Gotham with endless crimes and villains, and because of that law workers and police couldn't have a chance to rest even if their work hours passed. (y/n) were one of them.

It was a very busy week in the law office where you were working as a prosecutor, and the case you have been working on for a long time was your biggest fish. You were preparing to sue the biggest mobster in Gotham city, David Harden. You can't put him behind the bars by yourself but you had the help of an unexpected person. The Dark Knight.

Thanks to him, a lot of Gotham's criminals were behind the bars and the ones who didn't either quit their illegal jobs or became smarter and more dangerous. But non of them could escape the wrath of the prince of Gotham.

You were working with Batman for almost two years. You helped him with a case that he was working with Commissioner Gordon and after that day he didn't hesitate to ask for your help, and you helped him gladly. He was bringing you pieces of evidence and you would take them to court. You were his legal partner, but even you worked with him for two years, you didn't know his real identity.

You walk off from your office to reach the rooftop of your building to meet with him. When you get out of the elevator, you threw yourself into the windy weather outside and waited on the rooftop of the skyscraper. After a couple of minutes, you heard a noise and headed that way. And you saw him hiding in the shadows, looking to you.

"Good night." You told him, wanting to start conservation, but you didn't think that it would happen because after two years you know that he wasn't much of a talker.

He nods his head to greet you in return.

"Did you bring the files I asked you for?" you asked.

He nods his head again and handed the files to you. You take them from him and started to examine them.

"These will do the trick for the first couple of hearings, but I need more."

"I will get them to you. You go to your home, rest. I'll do my part."

"Okay. Tomorrow there will be a closed hearing at noon. Should I let you know how it went?"

"No. I have my ways. I'll know."

You snorted.

"Of course you will."

He looked at you and started to walk to the edge of the building.

"I'll reach you when I gather the evidence."

"Ok. See you." And he jumped.

"I don't think I can get used to seeing this," You mumbled to yourself.

After putting the files into your office and hide them, You went to your car to go home. While you drive your phone rang.

"Hey."

"Hi, beautiful. How was your day?"

The caller was your boyfriend, Bruce Wayne. You met with him on a charity event, and you were prejudiced against him because of the things people were talking about him but after spending time with him you saw he had a good heart but trying to mask it with his playboy persona, you didn't know why he did it but you wanted to give him a chance and now you’ve been dating for six months. And you loved him.

"It was tiring. How about you?"

"Same. I've missed you."

"Oh, I missed you too, but I have a trial tomorrow. I have to go home and work."

"It's fine, I'll see you tomorrow then."

"OK. See you."

"Be careful. See you too."

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

The next day, It was dark when you exited the court. The trial started at noon and took all of your days, but you were successful and David Harden was going to be in prison until the whole court ends and can’t be bailed out.

As you started to walk towards your car in narrow streets you couldn't help yourself to feel scared. Gotham was dangerous at night. You felt relieved after you get inside of your car and when you putting your purse to your next seat, you notice a letter. You wondered how it got in as your blood run cold.

Drop the case, or we will drop your body to dumpsters.

You officially got threatened by mobsters. This wasn't happening for the first time. You were a prosecutor and the threat was a common thing. But you couldn't help yourself to feel scared because of the note that somehow got inside of your car.

You couldn't know what to do but to go to the safety of your home. You would think something to deal with it once you got there.

"What should I do?" You thought. Of course, you weren't going to drop the case but you thought if you should let Gordon or anyone else know about this threat. But they could make you drop the case for your protection. You didn't want that. You weren't a coward. And Batman was trusting you. You decided to keep this threat as a secret.

Your door ranged while you lost in your thoughts. You got up to see who it was. It was Bruce.

"Hey." You smiled.

"What are you doing here?"

He laughed, "Why? Do you want me to leave?"

"Of course not. I just got surprised."

He bends to kiss you, " I know it's late but, I wanted to see you. How was the court?"

"It was fine, he'll be in prison forever if it continues like this." You smiled. You both started to walk to the living room.

"Are you okay?" He asked you worriedly like he sensed something. You took a second to think if you want to tell him or not. He was Bruce Wayne. Carefree, rich. He was known to have parties until morning before he meets you. He was a playboy. An even if you know him he was more than that, that he was a good person you couldn't help to feel insure to tell him this. It felt like if you tell him he wouldn't want to deal with mobsters threatening you, and leave. And you didn't want that.

I can deal with this by myself, or tell him later. You thought. And you decided not to tell him.

"I'm fine, just a bit tired."

"Even tired of this?" He said while making a move to kiss you. You kissed him back. He seemed like dropped to question you about your mood. You pulled him towards to couch, he smiled. You missed him, and he seemed like he missed you too. You continued to make out and forget about everything else but Him.

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

You opened your eyes with the light of the sun shining through the window. As you trying to wake up, you notice a letter on your nightstand. It's been two weeks when you first receive your threatening letter and you keep having them. But they always came to your office or your mailbox, and now somebody gets into your house and put it next to you while you sleep. This made you feel uneasy. They could've killed you so easily. You trembled with fear and start packing. You thought it was normal treats that you always had, but this time these were serious.

You found yourself a hotel room, in the cities most popular one. You though with crowed they wouldn't dare to come close to you. Maybe it was stupid, but you didn't know what to do. You still didn't tell anything to Bruce or Gordon or Batman and now when you realize how dangerous it was you were certain wasn't going to stay at Bruce's home. You wanted to ask for help from Batman, but passed two weeks you didn't see him, and your only way to reach him was bat light. But you didn't want to use it just for your own sake. It felt selfish. With these thoughts, you went to work and work until evening. You were still considering contacting Batman, but you wanted to wait just for a night. You could tell him tomorrow. While thinking these, you went to your car, just as you approached it, you were startled by the sound from come from your behind. As you turn to that direction to see the source you fell with force coming to your face. Somebody punched you.

"What the hell!" you screamed.

"We told you to drop the case, you stupid whore!" said a man with a black mask, you couldn't saw his face and he wasn't alone. Somebody came from your behind and kick you. You fall to the ground again as you were trying to get up. They continued punching and kicking you, you felt your whole body aching. You were getting threat letters for two weeks and didn't do anything about it, so you shouldn't be surprised that this was happening to you. You couldn't do anything else but to cry as they kept hitting you. Your vision became blurry.

"You will drop that case, let this be a lesson to you, or we'll kill you next time." Some of them said while kicking you for the last time. You couldn't find the energy to answer him, and everywhere went dark.

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

You opened your eyes to the hospital. Your thoughts were blurry, as you shifted on your bed to understand what happened you saw a man sleeping on the bedside chair. It was Bruce. When you see him you remembered what happened, that you got beaten in an alley. While you tried to straighten up Bruce hurried to help you while sitting up instantly. You woke him up.

"Let me help." He said while holding your back.

"It's fine." You said, finally finding a comfortable position.

"Are you okay? Wait here, I will inform the doctors that you woke up." He seemed anxious.

"Where can I go?" you said while watching him leave the room.

After he came with the doctor, he told you about your condition, you had a concussion and several injuries at your arms and legs. Your face and your all of your body had bruises all over. After the doctor left you could finally look at Bruce carefully. He looked very tired and sad. He looked like he wasn't sleeping or shaving for days. He sits at your bed side chair quietly and looks at you with tearful eyes.

"What happened?" he asked you quietly.

"I-ı. How did I get here?"

"Batman brought you here apparently, they called me after they treat you."

"Batman?"

"Yes. Several people saw him bringing you here. What happened? Are you going to tell me?"

"I got beaten in an alley, that's what happened." You said bluntly.

He holds his breath, I could sense that he was becoming tense. He clung his teeth.

"Why? This doesn't look like a mugger's job."

"It wasn't." You said feeling a bit ashamed.

"It was the mob that I was suing." He looked at me with a shocked face.

"What?"

"They were threatening me to give up the case, but I didn't, so they give me a little warning."

"Why didn't you told me anything?" he said angrily while looking at you with disappointed eyes.

"I-I don't know. I got scared."

"From what?" he asked me with a demanding voice.

"You."

"Me?" he looks at me bewildered.

"That you don't want to deal with the threats and everything, and leave. And I'm a prosecutor, I got threats all the time, I can't tell you about all of them. I thought you would get bored with all of this."

He looked at my face brokenhearted.

"I won't leave you. Especially because of this! I am Bruce Wayne, I get threats all the time, why would I leave you because you do too? Do you think so low of me?"

You felt so ashamed, he's eyes were looking at you so broken, you hated yourself at that moment for not trusting him enough.

"I'm sorry. Of course, I don't. Please forgive me." He looked at my face deeply.

"I should be asking your forgiveness, not to make you trust me enough, for not protecting you."

"Please, Bruce, don't blame yourself. What happened has happened, I just have to find a way to make it not happen again without leaving my case."

"Are you thinking continuing that case? After all of this?"

"Of course I am, I'm not a quitter."

He smiled at you.

"I now." He said while looking at your eyes.

"I love you." He said. You felt like you can burst into tears.

"I love you too."

After you leave the hospital Bruce didn't let you go to your home, you were still hurt and needed help, and there was a mob still trying to harm you.

Bruce brought you to his penthouse, he and Alfred have practically cosseted you. You were grateful for the love that you were receiving. And still feeling a little ashamed for not trusting him completely.

"How do you feel? Are you in pain?" he asked you while coming inside the room. He was holding a silver tray full of delicious-looking food.

"I feel fine, I don't have pain. Thank you." You said while straightened up. You took the tray from him. You were starving.

"Don't forget to take your pills after you eat." He said while giving you the pills. You smiled at him.

"Are you going somewhere?" He was wearing his suit.

"Oh, yes. They called me from the police station, they found a new lead about who could do this to you. And there is a couple of forms that you need to sign, I will bring them to you."

"You don't have to do that." He cares for you warmed your heart.

"I don't want to hear this anymore. I want to do everything I can do for you." You smiled at him and take his hand.

"Isn't it late for this? It's almost past evening."

"I don't know. Commissioner Gordon called me. I won't be late." He kissed your lips.

"Okay. I'll be waiting."

After Bruce left you ate your food and opened a movie on the TV that was in the room. It was almost becoming night. After some time you get bored and decided to go to the kitchen to have some dessert. After you went to the kitchen to look for it, you heard some noises on the terrace.

"It must be Alfred." You said to yourself and went to check. After you go outside, you saw a man standing in the shadows. It was Batman.

"What are you doing here?" you asked him in surprise, you haven't seen him since before the incident.

"I came to check you."

"Bruce said, you were the one who found me in the alley. Is it true?"

He looked at my eyes deeply while coming closer.

"Yes. I thought you were dead."

You didn't know what to say.

"You said the police that there is a mob against you. That you were treated."

"Yes. Only to Gordon, I don't trust anyone else. Where did you learn this?"

"I have my ways."

There was silence for a few seconds.

"Why didn't you tell me that you get threatened?" he asked me as if he isn't sure to ask me or not.

"Don't you trust me?"

"What? No. I didn't talk about it to anyone. I didn't care about it at the beginning, then I get a note from them in my bedroom one morning. Then I realized how serious it could be and move to a Hotel. But they found me in the evening after the court."

"Did they get into your house?" he asked me in an enraged voice.

"Yes, but I didn't saw them, they could've killed me if they wanted to. I think they just wanted me to scare. And they did after some point." you confessed.

"I was going to tell you, but I didn't see you anywhere."

"I was trying to find evidence fort he case as you asked. You could've used the bat light." He snapped.

"I didn't what to use it for an unimportant situation."

He looks at me astonished.

"You are not unimportant." He said angrily.

You couldn't know what to say as he came closer to you. There was something familiar in his gestures that you can't put your finger on. He stopped when he came before you. He approached your face and suddenly he kissed you.

The Batman was kissing you. Your head has gone blank for a couple of seconds and after you put your thoughts together you pushed him off you.

"What are you doing?" you shouted.

"I'm kissing my girlfriend.." He said in his normal voice.

You were stunned.

"Bruce?"

"Yes. It's me. No more secrets No more trust issues. I'm with you completely."

"But, all this time you were-" He shushed you.

"We'll talk about this later. There is only one thing I want to do now."

And he leaned to your lips once again. Two-man that you were respected and adored were the same man. And just you think you couldn't love him more.

#bruce wayne x reader #bruce wayne imagine #bruce wayne fanfiction #batman x reader #batfam #batman imagine #batman #batman imagines #bruce x reader #bruce wayne imagines #imagine #bruce wayne one shot #bruce wayne

117 notes · View notes