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thinkingoutlouddblog · 4 years ago

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butterfly effect: one

His mouth is slightly ajar, surely shocked to be seeing the girl of his past so far from where he had left her. I myself try to compute what I am seeing, but my brain is running so fast from the adrenaline, the gravity of what is occurring hardly registers.

It’s Harry, and he’s here and the two of you need to get out of there right now.

Word Count: 6k+

Includes: mob!h, mentions of blood, scary dudes late at night, and the set up for my favourite story I’ve ever written!

A/N: guys I am so excited about this story! I swear writing this is the only thing holding me together (so don’t let it flop lmao). It is 2AM pray for me.

My inbox is open for anyone who wants to chat about this series! I love to gab, and constructive criticism is very much appreciated. I want this to be as good as possible!!

butterfly effect masterlist // my masterlist

now

It is not until it is already too late that I realise I should have just ordered an uber.

Alex was very insistent that I order one home from my late shift at the pub. He had even offered to split the cost, knowing without needing to ask this was the cause of my hesitation. It wasn’t that I couldn’t afford it. Strictly speaking, I could. I was just keenly aware of the amount of material I could buy with the amount a late night uber in London would cost me. I would never take him up on his offer. He needed the money just as much as I did.

“It’s okay, I’m good for it,” I gave him a little smile. He was sitting in front of his mirror in his room, midway through getting ready for work. I had simply come to say goodbye before I left for my shift when he had grabbed me by the hand and demanded I ordered an uber home.

“Babe, you have to promise me.”

“I promise!” I stared exaggeratedly into his eyes as I spoke, emphasising my honesty.

In that moment, I made peace with the money I would be losing from my fabric budget. I calculated this budget, of course, by subtracting living expenses from my weekly income. My best friend wanted to make sure I got home safe, wanted the peace of mind while he was working that I would be fine. Who was I to say no to that?

“Make sure you text me when you get into the uber and once you make it up to the apartment.” My chest flooded with warmth at the love and care in his voice. It was moments like these I really sat back and thanked my lucky stars that Alex was in my life.

So, of course I was just going to bite the bullet and order the uber. Of course.

Except, well.

I couldn’t help but think how quickly I got from our place to work. We had picked the apartment just one short month ago, heavily considering the advantage of its walking distance to my work. The King’s Arms was just one block up and down the road. It was barely a fifteen-minute walk. Shorter than that if I took the shortcut down the alleyway back to our block, saving me from walking further down the road and looping back around. It would probably take me longer to get home via uber, once you account for the time spent waiting for it to arrive.

A ten-minute walk home wouldn’t kill me, surely.

The contemplation was pushed from my mind for the duration of my busy Saturday night shift. It was my least favourite shift of the week, as I spent each week chasing after middle aged men getting rowdy in the excitement of watching whatever sport was on TV. The King’s Arm was small, but it was a local favourite known for its homey pub meals, reasonably priced pints and good atmosphere. Much to my contempt they didn’t keep a large staff pool, preferring a smaller, well-trained, reliable bunch. Which was great in theory until it left me to run around like my hair is on fire on a night as busy as tonight.

I was capable of serving everyone well and in a timely manner, but it wasn’t exactly a stroll in the park. More like a seven-hour long sprint, with a half hour break in the middle.

As the final game for the night ended, the crowd slowly but surely thinned until just a couple of small groups remained.

“Hey y/n, are you okay to lock up by yourself if I head home in five?” my manager, Rachel asked me half an hour before close. “I have some time I need to take back,” she added in explanation.

“Of course, you go get out of here.” I knew she wasn’t lying when she said she had some time to take back, putting in all sorts of extra hours to keep the place in tip top shape. I liked Nicola, and I had certainly been working there long enough to handle a couple of customers and lock up by myself. Even if I didn’t like Rachel and thought she was slacking off, I couldn’t exactly argue. She was both my boss and the owner’s daughter, probably not far off becoming the owner herself.

“Are you sure?” She asked, eyeing the few men still seated, probably triple checking she didn’t think they were any kind of threat.

“Yes,” I laughed, “now scram, before I change my mind.”

“Alright if you insist,” she said, already making her way towards her bag.

“Ring me if you need anything! Good night!” She called over her shoulder as she exited through the kitchen door. The cook had gone home ten minutes earlier, the pub serving only drinks the hour before close at midnight.

“Night!” I called back.

I made quick work of what little cleaning there was left to do, and gently reminded the remaining patrons we closed in half an hour. To my surprise they were agreeable and friendly, one of them instantly assuring me, “Don’t worry love we’ll be out of your hair soon, won’t make you stay back late.”

Usually the kind of people that were in the pub this late had no care for closing time, believing that pertained simply to whenever they decided they wanted to leave.

True to his word, everyone was out with ten minutes to spare and I was able to clean their dishes and tables with the remaining time they had granted me. I locked the door to The King’s Arms at 12 o’clock on the dot and riding the high of such an easy close, took not a moment in deciding I was in fact going to walk home.

To Alex: Just ordered an uber!

I felt guilty lying, but I would rather lie than have Alex worrying over nothing. I would be home in a flash, keys secured firmly in between my knuckles the whole way. I felt far safer on the move than waiting out the front of work for an uber anyway.

I kept a fast pace, left only to debate whether I took my shortcut or stuck to the street. I checked over my shoulder, and seeing absolutely no one around, made a quick right turn into the alleyway between two buildings.

I grabbed my phone from my back pocket as I heard the ding of a text notification. I glance down at my screen, reading as I walk.

From Alex: Amazing! I should be home in a couple hours, text me when you get home safe. Love you x

I don’t register the hushed growling tones as I continue making my way down the alley, still looking down at my phone as I type a simple ‘love you’ in reply. It isn’t uncommon to hear the conversations of tenants on the lower levels of these apartment buildings as you walk down the street. Walls are thin and many windows generally left open. It is easy to consign this particular conversation among the other non-threatening city sounds until I eventually look back up from my phone.

I am immediately faced with a most unfavourable scene, under the single light that illuminates this alley, are the two men who I now recognise to be the source of the argument I had barely registered. The first man is tall, dressed in all black, thick muscles protruding through his t-shirt. He towered over the second man who contrasted him starkly in his bright red adidas tracksuit. The tall man’s presence would be dominating the space, even if he didn’t have his dark forearm pressed firmly against the smaller man’s throat.

I clamp a hand over my mouth, stopping myself from yelping stupidly and drawing attention to myself. They haven’t noticed my presence. A witness to whatever it was that was occurring here.

“See all I’m hearing is excuses, bruv,” the tall man’s accent is distinctly that of someone from South London. His tone is aggressive, but even. He knows he has the upper hand and it is clearly not his first rodeo threatening people. This is exactly the kind of person I could’ve avoided encountering by simply ordering an uber.

I snap out of my shocked daze and start to turn to make a swift and stealthy departure. I’m no fool. I know there is a definitive gang presence around here. I also know, if you leave them alone, they too shall (hopefully)leave you. All hopes of making such an exit are of course foiled as soon as my foot connects with an empty beer bottle on my first step.

The two men’s heads snap towards me instantly. I expect the shorter man to ask for help, to say something, but his mouth remains clamped shut. Gang business. He is in a bigger mess than someone like me can ever save him from. The taller man’s eyes narrow. After the briefest moments of standing there frozen, caught, I spin on my heel and run as fast as my feet can carry me.

I run back to the route I should have taken, cursing myself all the way for being naïve enough to believe that nothing bad could happen to me on something as simple as a walk home from work. That women who were raped, kidnapped and murdered from off the street were somehow removed from me. That was something only on the news in my world. Not something that was possibly about to occur.

My heart hammers in my chest as I make the split-second decision, I am safer running all the way home than running as far as I can from the scene of the crime. I’m going to run all the way up the stairs to my fifth-floor apartment, and I am going to lock the door behind me. I turn the corner back up to my block, not slowing down for a second.

I am so quick in fact, that as I come flying around the next corner towards my apartment, I nearly barrel straight into someone. He was clearly walking with some pace too, because he narrowly prevents us crashing into each other head on, but he is a second too slow in his reaction time because I trip straight over his feet. I hardly even see him, even as I am falling straight over him. All I see is brown hair and a dark suit before I’m staring straight at the pavement flying towards my face. I barely manage to throw my forearms out to break my fall as I hit the pavement at speed.

“Jesus,” the man mutters, but the only thing I can hear is my heavy breathing and my own blood pounding in my ears.

I’m on the ground now, I register for a second before my flight response kicks back in.

I don’t even feel the sting of the scrapes with the adrenaline coursing through me, already attempting to scramble up and get as far away as possible from this stranger. “I’m so sorry!” I manage to call as I pick myself and my keys up, gearing up to get moving once more.

“Honey?”

No. It absolutely could not possibly be. There was only one person on this planet who had ever called me by that name.

I stop dead in my tracks. That voice. It’s deeper than I remember but undoubtedly familiar. Familiar seems too simple a word. That voice had echoed around the halls of my brain for years. Even now, six years later, it was not gone but buried, waiting for a simple trigger to spark my memory and bring that beautiful sound back to the forefront my mind. Some days I swear I remembered it like I had just heard it moments ago.

Except now, I really had heard him.

Slowly, I turned to face him.

It’s Harry, and he’s here and the two of you need to get out of there right now.

Before he can verbalise any of the questions on the tip of his tongue, I grab his hand in my own, and yank him forward as I continue running home.

Realistically, I know that we now outnumber whoever it was that may be coming after me and I know even six years since I’ve last seen him, I am always safe with Harry. He proved that in many ways, and more than once, while I knew him. I was not, however, willing to risk the tall man pulling a knife on Harry. I didn’t even want to put him in a situation where it was a battle of fists. Though I did know from experience he could more than hold his own.

“What’s going on?” he yells as we run down the street, rapidly approaching the exit of the alleyway I had fled.

I gradually reduce our pace until we are speed-walking past the alleyway. Tempted as I am to see if they are still there, I keep my eyes trained forward, praying they aren’t there watching us as we pass by.

As soon as we have cleared it, I’m straight back to my running pace, forcing Harry to accelerate speed once more.

“I’ll explain inside,” I call over my shoulder in answer to his earlier question.

Now that I felt a degree safer with Harry’s presence, I had the capacity to feel thankful I had opted for a boiler suit and converse for tonight to accommodate for the Saturday night rush. This run would have been hell if I had worn a skirt and a heeled boot instead.

“Inside where?” He’s laughing as he speaks and as the fear loosens its grip on me, the déjà vu begins to battle for dominance. That laugh had brightened my every day for long enough to leave a mark on my soul. Fleeting as it was, that single sound reignited the shine it had once left.

His question was answered when we came to a screeching halt in front of my apartment. It took me two tries to input my security code correctly, my brain and hands both moving quickly, but not quite matching up. Eventually, the door clicked, and I was able to swing it open, tugging Harry in after me.

I didn’t stop dragging him along behind me until we had taken all five flights of stairs up to my apartment two at a time.

“y/n…” he attempted to grab my attention when we first entered the building, but I was not to be deterred until we had reached the absolute safety of my apartment. I shushed him, not wanting to receive a noise complaint from my new neighbours. I supposed having such a thought was a good sign, my consciousness beginning to register it was not in any imminent danger.

I huffed and puffed as we landed at the doorstep of apartment 5B, the place I loved to call home. Harry, I noticed, was barely short of breath. He had always been a runner when we were in high school. I wondered if he kept up the habit even now.

My hands shook as I located the correct key on my chain, body still shaking from the excitement of the events of the past five minutes. I struggled to align the key with the lock with my left hand, unthinking of the fact my right was still firmly in Harry’s hold.

“Let me,” he murmured, already moving his right hand to take the key. I said nothing, simply surrendering it over to him.

His hands were steady as anything as he turned the key, granting us entrance into my home. I released a breath I didn’t realise I had been holding. I finally stopped just past the door, my back to Harry as he shut it behind him. I took a few deep breaths, trying so desperately to ground myself.

Was any of this even real? The sketchy characters I could believe in a heartbeat, Harry Styles’ presence, however, was harder to grasp.

But there his hand was, in my own, even if I couldn’t see him.

Harry stood back and let me take this moment to myself, keenly aware of how much I needed it. He knew I needed to take pause and re-centre myself otherwise I would only shut down. He was also aware of my injured state though, even if I wasn’t.

“y/n, you’re bleeding.”

“Oh,” my head snapped back to look at my arm. In the rush to get home, the blood from the scrapes on my arm had run down my arm and dripped into our connected hands. I quickly released my grasp on him. “Jesus, I’m sorry.”

“A little bit of blood never hurt anyone,” he quickly dismissed. “Unless you’re the one that’s bleeding, in which case you better get cleaned up as soon as possible.

“Luckily you have me here to play nurse. Just lead the way to the nearest bathroom,” he gave me a little cheeky grin, clearly trying to lift your spirits. The subtle playfulness is not as natural as it once was, but it is certainly reminiscent of our old dynamic. The surrealism of this whole thing goes straight to my head, clouding my ability to form full, coherent thoughts.

Somehow, I manage to come out with, “I think you mean our only bathroom,” in response.

He grunts a laugh, but he hasn’t missed the use of the word our.

I walk like a zombie, leading him through the hallway past the living room and the kitchen to the bathroom. I hold my forearms up in an attempt to redirect the flow of the blood and prevent it from dripping from my fingertips onto the floor. As I slowly came out of survival mode, my awareness of the stinging of my forearms became increasingly prominent. I was sure my hip and knees were going to be bruised pretty badly too. I really hadn’t managed to slow down at all before all my momentum came crashing into the cement.

“Do you have a first aid kit?” He asks upon our arrival to the bathroom.

“Under the sink.”

My eyes trail over the mess Alex and I had left in our rush to get ready.

I tend to procrastinate getting ready for as long as possible, busying myself with just about anything else. Generally, it will be tidying up the mess I’ve made during the day, only for me to create a whole new one in my hurry to get ready for my shift on time. Alex on the other hand, always leaves plenty of time to perfect his look before leaving for the night. Despite having the time to do so, he never cleans as he goes. Leaving his many products and deliberated outfits spread far and wide. Luckily most of his mess was confined to his bedroom, the only trace of him in the bathroom skincare and hair products (though there wasn’t a limited amount of those, either).

“I’m sorry for the mess,” I speak quietly watching Harry get his bearings, standing helplessly as I bled, hands still raised.

“Nonsense,” he doesn’t look at me as he speaks, jumping into action.

Harry turns the faucet on in the sink before opening the cupboard door and grabbing the first aid kid out. It was actually sort of a miracle Alex and I had one. It had been on a list of “Things You Need for a New Apartment” I had googled, scared we were missing important things. At the time, I had deliberated longer than necessary over whether to get one. I couldn’t remember the last time I had required anything more than a band aid for any given ailment. The deciding factor had been the memory of Alex getting into a couple of scrapes while out over the years. It had never been anything major, the worst injury he ever sustained being a bruised jaw, but it was better to be safe than sorry, I decided.

Turns out, that decision was for the best.

He gently touches his fingertips to my right arm, which had copped the brunt of it. With the softest touch, he delicately guided my arm under the stream of water. As I stepped forward to lean over the sink and wash away the dirt of the footpath, he stepped backwards, giving me my space.

I winced at the initial contact of the water as it ran red. I risked a glance at my reflection. Sweaty brow, the light lazy work makeup I had applied half off my face. I quickly diverted my gaze back to my injured arm. This was not exactly how I pictured our reunion. I had hardly ever even pictured it, I was so sure that I would never see Harry again.

I wondered if this silence was as heavy as I thought it was. Everything about him felt so familiar, yet so different. Up until this moment it felt like being in the presence of a friend, but now I realised, he was closer to a stranger.

I knew the person he once was, a sweet but fucked up kid who had been forced to become a man too early. Someone who had his walls a mile high around almost everyone. Almost. The boy who painted his nails on lunch breaks and was friends with everyone but somehow also no one. Until he was friends with me. Then he was the boy who always sat to my left from the first bell of the school day to the last. Back then, I knew him from the inside out, just as he knew me.

He was my greatest joy of those years. Then he was my greatest heartbreak. Now, he was just some guy I used to know who I had plucked straight up off the street, looking very out of place in what was clearly a designer suit in my tiny apartment.

He looked through the first aid kit as I ensured the entirety of the scrape was rinsed. It extended most of the way from my elbow to my wrist, but more pressingly in my mind, it now stung like a bitch. Once the water rain clear as it ran off my arm, I moved onto the much smaller and shallower scrape on my left elbow, working quickly to get it clean.

Most of the bleeding had stopped, only a few spots on my right arm still dotting with blood. I leaned over the sink to prevent the water from dripping onto the floor.

I cleared my throat, nervous to break the silence.

“Can you please grab me that towel?” I nodded my head towards the black hand towel hung behind Harry.

His eyes snapped upwards from the first aid kit he had been busying himself with. I was sure he had been surveying it more thoroughly than strictly necessary, trying to detract from the awkward energy which had crept up on us. We made brief eye contact through the mirror. My breath caught in my throat. The moment was over as soon as it began as he turned wordlessly to grab the towel.

He holds it in his hand, hesitating before handing it over, “Did you want me to…?” he trails off, growing awkward in his offer. He regretted the words as soon as they were out of his mouth. She barely knows you, back off, he tells himself.

“No that’s okay,” I speak gently, and he quickly passes the towel to me. I get to work patting my arms down delicately.

“Thank you though,” I add, hating the unsure look on his face. I meet his eye, giving him a smile I hope is reassuring.

“Okay, let’s get you sitting down so I can fix you up,” he returns your smile with a slight upturn of the right side of his mouth.

I relocate to the little dining table Alex and I had bought at Ikea just a week prior. Harry isn’t far behind, washing his hands before joining me to tend to my wounds. He lays out everything he is going to need from the first aid kit before holding his hand out. Like an idiot, I stare at his hand without moving for a beat too long before jerkily offering my right arm up.

He laughs silently as he turns my arm over, analysing it carefully.

“So, do you often go for runs at midnight?” He asks as he unscrews the lid on the Vaseline.

“Yeah all the time. I just don’t normally take people from the street with me.”

“Is that all I am? A person on the street?” He tries to keep his tone light, but I can tell he was hurt by my choice of words.

I expect to feel guilty, but a burst of anger I thought I had long gotten over flares in my chest. It isn’t as red hot and overwhelming as it had been years before – I’d definitely had my fair share of time to cool off – but I’m still surprised by the sting of it.

He was the one that made himself a stranger to me, and now he’s upset when I’m stating the fact that he made a reality.

Despite myself, I tried not to come across too harshly in my response. I was never one for confrontation.

“I mean, I haven’t heard from you in six years.”

He is very careful not to lift his eyes from my injuries as he carefully applies the petroleum jelly. I stare down at him, desperate to catch his eye.

There’s a pause as I wait for him to offer some kind of explanation. Some perfectly good reason why my best friend and first love left town without telling me why, or where he was going, and then never contacted me again.

When he doesn’t fill the silence, I sigh as quietly as I can manage. You don’t really know him, I remind myself. I practically kidnapped him, I can’t just go asking him to rehash history. It was so clear that he was what he had wanted me to be. History.

“I just mean, I don’t really know you anymore. I’m sorry I grabbed you like that, I just,” I hissed at the sting of his first aid, “I was walking home from work and I saw these really sketchy looking guys.”

“Sketchy looking?” He finally looked up at me, raising an eyebrow questioningly.

“Well I guess they didn’t really look sketchy in their appearance particularly, it was more the fact that one of them was practically choking the other. They were arguing over something. I think it was something to do with some of the gangs around here,” I attempted a nonchalant tone, not wanting to worry him. The less phased I seemed, the better. I had caused him enough trouble. The only thing that was probably stopping him from running for the hills and never looking back (again) was guilt.

I go on to explain how I’d kicked that stupid beer bottle and taken off running, “which is when I ran into you. I’m really sorry about that, by the way. I’m so glad I didn’t take you down with me I think I would’ve died of a mix of guilt and embarrassment right then and there.”

“It wasn’t your fault, Ho-“he cut himself before his mouth could form that name he had so affectionately given you. “I’m the one who feels guilty, if not for my big, slow feet you wouldn’t have bit the dust.” I laugh at his turn of phrase.

His face suddenly grows serious. “Your head is okay, right?”

Instinctively, my left hand shoots up to the back of my head, ghosting over the slight bump hidden under my hair. The scar tissue was ever so minimally raised, only perceptible to a knowing touch. I retract my hand bashfully, slightly embarrassed by my knee jerk reaction.

“It’s fine,” I match his serious tone, before lightening it up, “as you can see, I managed to break most of my fall,” I gesture to my right arm he has paused work on.

He holds my gaze for a moment longer, discerning whether he thinks I am downplaying anything. He picks up the dressing, moving onto the next phase of his treatment plan.

“And they don’t feel broken? You can move your wrists okay without too much pain?”

My heart swells at his concern. I stamp out the small joy as soon as it flared up. It’s guilt that’s fuelling him. Nothing else.

I shake my head no. He looks up once more, having missed the gesture in his concentration. “Sorry! No. All bumps and bruises. I’m fine honestly, I probably majorly overexaggerated the whole thing and freaked out for nothing. I’m really sorry about all this, its so late at night.”

“Don’t apologise,” he says firmly. “It’s not your fault and you did exactly the right thing by making a break fo’ it. You never know what could’ve happened. Ya’ know. Out late. By yourself. In the dark.”

My face burned red with shame, but also defiance. I knew what I did was stupid and extremely risky, but I also didn’t think I needed a lecture about it in this moment. The fear still coursing through me and my scraped-up arms were surely lesson enough.

“I could say the same thing to you,” I countered.

We both knew my argument didn’t hold up very well. He was a man out alone at night. There was obviously a risk there, but it wasn’t the same.

We also both knew, I wasn’t really trying to start a debate. Just signalling to him I didn’t want to get into it and wanted to move on.

“I was walking to the tube from a mate’s place,” he explained simply, letting me off the hook.

He had begun to tape the dressing down to my skin, securing it safely. He worked expertly. Even if I didn’t already know, I would have said this was one of many times he had done some at home first aid.

“In a designer suit?” I questioned. There were two things I was asking, but also not saying. Was this the kind of ‘mate’ you wine and dine before going home with them? And what happened to that poor kid from Holmes Chapel I once knew?

“I came straight from work.”

Jesus he wasn’t giving me a lot to work with in the way of details.

“Oh,” I say lamely, not wanting to pry. As much as I could tell myself (and him) that I didn’t really know him anymore and he was basically a stranger, it still hurt to be treated like one. We used to be so open with one another. The one thing I ever kept from him was how I truly felt about him.

“I work in finance,” he offers up after a beat of silence. “It uh- I’m pretty lucky to have the job I do,” he alludes to his financial standing, obviously wanting to acknowledge the contrast comparative to how I knew him. A boy not even of eighteen, fending for himself while trying to complete his high school education.

My face practically split in two with the size of the smile on my face at his words. “I’m so happy for you, Harry,” I say, hoping he can see how genuinely I mean it.

“Thank you.”

“Are you happy, H?” The question slips out before I can stop it. Internally, I kick myself. Externally, I try to keep my face neutral, yet interested. That’s a perfectly normal question to ask. Totally.

“Um,” he switches to my left elbow, making quicker work of the smaller wound. “I think so. In my experience you never realise how happy you are until you aren’t. But still, I think I am.”

“Good,” I say firmly. “I’m glad.”

“What about you?” He turns the questioning back on you. “What’s your story?”

“Oh, you know. The sad story of the girl chasing a dream,” I nodded my head towards the sewing machine stationed at the other end of the table.

“Don’t say that!” His tone jests, but he is serious as he speaks. “I think it would be far sadder if I discovered that your talent was going to waste. I’m really glad to hear that actually,” he half says the last sentence to himself, concentrating on fixing his dressing properly on the more difficult angle of my elbow.

“There you go,” he gleams as he admires his handy work. “Good as new.”

“Thank you so much, Harry. I’m so sorry for all this-“

“Not your fault,” he quickly dismisses.

“Even so, I’m sorry for all the trouble. I’ll pay for an uber home for you or something,” I try to come up with something to offer him that can even begin to repay him for his help.

“Are you going to be okay by yourself?” His brow creases in concern.

“Oh, Alex should be-“ I smack a hand over my mouth, realising I never texted him to let him know I had gotten home okay.

“Oh fuck,” I remove my hand from my mouth. I gingerly fish my phone out of my back pocket, muscles beginning to protest, the impact of that fall settling in.

Four missed calls and a flurry of text messages. My phone had automatically turned onto ‘Do Not Disturb’ mode as scheduled at 12:30. I hadn’t been notified of any of it and he had definitely assumed the worst.

“Is everything okay?”

“I forgot to text him and let him know I made it home okay,” I don’t look up as I speak, opening our text chat.

From Alex: I’m coming home

Received ten minutes ago.

“Your boyfriend?” He questioned, keeping his face impassive. That had my head shooting up.

“Uh-“ I began, but cut myself off as the unmistakeable sound of heeled feet running up the stairs to our apartment ran out loud and clear.

Shit.

Before I could even think what to say next, Alex’s key was in the lock. The door swung open, smacking the wall with the force of it.

Both Harry and Alex’s brows hit their bloody hairline I swear. Or more accurately, Lexie’s.

There my best friend and roommate stood, in full drag, light catching the sequins of the pink mini-dress I had sewn myself. If I weren’t standing there with the guiltiest expression of my life, I would be thinking about how stunning she looked.

Harry looked between the two of you, as Lexie did the same. Both trying to catch their brains up to what they were seeing. I myself was at a loss for words. I probably should have started with, “Lex, I am so sorry,” but Harry broke the silence first.

“Wow, you look amazing,” he breathed, transfixed by the look Lexie had created. Drag was an art form, and she was quite the artist. He was not the first to become enchanted upon first look, and he certainly would not be the last.

Lexie narrowed her eyes at Harry, jaw falling slightly open at the audacity of the acknowledgement in this moment. She had little patience for besotted strangers in moments like this. Her narrowed eyes moved to mine, face filling with rage.

“Lex-“ I begin, but am cut off for what seems to be the millionth time tonight with the simple raise of her hand. The close of my mouth is instant. I was not about to make this any worse.

“Bitch, if you do not have a very good explanation for this,” she breathes deeply, trying to gain her composure, “I am going to fucking kill you.”

********

As soon as he is out of your apartment and onto the street, his phone is in his hand. Fingers not able to press to type the message fast enough for his liking.

From Harry: We need to talk. I saw her.

As soon as the message was delivered, he was returning the calls he had silenced in y/n’s presence. The moment she had turned her back and left him to wash his hands, he had turned his phone to airplane mode.

“Jesus Christ bruv, I thought you were dead,” Michael joked as soon as he picked up.

The two of them had parted ways for what should’ve been five or ten minutes. Harry hadn’t seen it happen, just heard the clatter of the beer bottle as it skated along the ground and the screeching halt in the argument. He had been waiting patiently for Michael to finish working in the shadowy doorway to the side. He hadn’t seen a thing, and he was sure from his concealed position, whoever had seen Mike hadn’t seen him. So, he obligingly offered to take a walk, ensure she hadn’t gone calling the police.

He had just been bored. Ready to go home and have a drink with Michael so he could have a bitch and a moan about work. It always left him feeling better when he returned on Monday. He was killing time, that was all. He hadn’t expected to stumble over the girl who had changed everything.

Harry didn’t take time to explain his extended absence, moving straight along to what he had called for. Just like Mike, he preferred to skip the pleasantries.

“I need you to subtly divert as much traffic from this block as possible,” he didn’t ask. He never asked. It was always an instruction with him. In this business, asking nicely didn’t exactly lend itself to going far.

“What’s this about?” Harry gritted his teeth. He did not enjoy having his authority questioned. The only reason Michael would get away with it was because of their pre-existing friendship. Even then. Harry was not exactly in a forgiving mood. Made all the worse when Mike added, “This isn’t about that girl from the alley is it?”

Michael had his answer when Harry said only, “Get it done or I’ll have your fookin’ head.”

chat with me about butterfly effect!

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jaskierswolf · 3 years ago

Note

My dearest darling Wolfie, I saw your idea for game gerlion friends to lovers in @thewitcherbog horny chat and I am here to ask you to write the fic. Pls 💜😘

Tada!! I can't remember if this was exactly what I had planned... but it's what we're getting. Lovingly beta'd by @comfyswitcherblanketfort.

CW: probably rated M? Briefly mentioned masturbation more horny than smutty.

____

A retirement at Corvo Bianco had never been what Geralt expected of his life. He hadn’t been lying when he’d told a young Dandelion that witcher’s never retire, but in recent years between looting caves and haggling for contracts, he’d managed to save quite a bit of coin. He was, objectively, rich. He had the best armour on the Continent, the most deadly swords and crossbow bolts, and thanks to B.B., his house was beautifully decorated, with the exception of the rather garish portrait of his most loyal friend. Yet, he was still gaining more money than he knew what to do with. He’d started investing in merchants and refusing payment but the vineyard brought in a steady income and Geralt had to admit that his life was pretty luxurious these days.

So it wasn’t exactly a surprise when Dandelion had turned up, in fine, brightly coloured silks and the elegantly decorated elven lute from so many years ago. Geralt sometimes wondered whether Toruviel had enchanted her lute. There was barely a scratch and Geralt couldn’t even recall Dandelion ever having to change the lute strings in all the years he’d known the bard. Geralt was no expert but he was pretty sure that you were supposed to change the lute strings.

The sun was shining over the fields of Corvo Bianco, and Geralt felt at peace. Perhaps that was why he was feeling so nostalgic, pondering over the events that had led him to this moment. His life had always been so busy, but with Ciri off touring the multiverse, and Yennefer doing whatever Yennefer did these days now the Djinn wish had been broken, he was… well… bored? He had every Gwent card currently made, and no one would play him. It was just him and the bard, living the bachelor’s life in Touissant.

So was it any wonder that Geralt had started to develop feelings for his friend? Perhaps they’d always been there, clouded by the wish that tied him to Yennefer, or perhaps their newfound domesticity had awoken something in Geralt that he had never expected. Dandelion spent a lot of time in the makeshift study, working on his latest book, but they always ate together and sometimes the bard would even accompany Geralt on his contracts in the fields, for old times sake. After long nights of drinking too much wine or vodka, it wasn’t unusual for the pair of them to fall asleep together, curled up in one bed just like they used to in their youth. Those were Geralt’s favourite nights, because despite his protests of being better alone, he enjoyed the familiar warmth of another body pressed against his, and Dandelion had always been a cuddler.

And as if on cue, the bard burst through the doors onto the patio where Geralt was watching the world go by.

“Ah, Geralt, old friend, there you are. I’ve been looking all over for you!” Dandelion announced with a flick of his wrist. “I was just in town.”

“Dandelion,” Geralt groaned. “Are you trying to get yourself killed?”

“Dear Henrietta will forgive me in time, my friend,” Dandelion winked, his tongue flicking out between his lips, “and until then I have plenty of friends who will offer me shelter if the guards are around.”

“You look like a man sized peacock,” Geralt scoffed. “How the hell does no one see you?”

“Ah, dear witcher, you forget that I used to be a spy,” Dandelion laughed, putting one hand on his hips. “Now, stop interrupting, Geralt, or do you not care about the gift I picked out for you in town today?”

Geralt hummed, knowing that it didn’t really matter whether he cared or not. Nothing would stop Dandelion once he was in the middle of a story. Some things just never changed. “Go on.”

Dandelion beamed, and from behind his back he produced a wooden box. The poet cocked his head as he opened the lid, revealing a set of tiny vials neatly lined up. Geralt almost choked, his breath catching in his throat.

“Oil?” he spluttered. A man such as Dandelion had to know of the more promiscuous uses of oil. Whilst Dandelion had never explicitly said as such, the way he talked of his lovers had always led Geralt to believe that he was rather flexible in his tastes, much like Geralt himself.

The poet blushed as he pulled a single vial from the box, his long lutist fingers wrapping around the glass. “Bath oils, Geralt.”

“Oh, of course,” Geralt cursed internally. Dandelion had bought all sorts of expensive oils and lotions when they had been on the path together, neither of them were shy with their bathing habits and the poet was a highly skilled masseur.

Which was not helping Geralt’s sudden rush of arousal as he remembered the feel of the poet’s hands on his skin. They’d laughed off awkward erections in the past, it was just a thing that happened… but Geralt was starting to wonder what would happen if, for once, they let it happen.

“This one will probably be a bit much for your witcher senses, my friend, but I rather like it,” Dandelion continued, oblivious to Geralt's inner turmoil. “This one,” another vial was plucked from the box, “however, I think you will like, and I managed to buy this,” Dandelion pulled a scroll from his pocket, “from a local mage. It’s supposed to move the water around the tub, like a massage!”

“And you’re telling me this, why?” Geralt sighed, rolling his eyes. As much as he adored his old friend, the man could take his sweet time getting to the point. It was even worse when the poet and Regis got together, Geralt honestly thought he might never know peace again.

“Because, Geralt, I am treating my dearest friend to an extravagant bath time experience!” Dandelion exclaimed with wide arms, almost knocking off his own hat in his enthusiasm. “Friendship and love, art and wine, Geralt. What more could you want in life?”

Love.

No, friendship. Geralt needed to focus on that. How many times had Dandelion called him his friend? Too many to count.

“Assuming you have wine, what’s the art?” Geralt smirked, enjoying the offended noises Dandelion made.

“Geralt, I’ll have you know that-”

“Relax, Dandelion. I’m teasing. So how about this bath then?”

The two men made their way upstairs, peeling off their outer clothes as they strolled past Geralt’s bedroom, and picking up a robe each. Dandelion had filled the room with candles, and there was a soft floral scent hanging in the air, roses, the oil vial that Dandelion had initially held up.

“I thought this one was too much for my ‘witcher senses’?” Geralt scoffed, peering at the magically bubbling water.

“Well, yes, but I did also say I liked this one, and I’ll admit that I got a little carried away. You don’t mind, do you Geralt?”

Geralt shook his head as he stripped off his final layer of clothing and settled into the tub. Dandelion sat in a chair, still wrapped in his robe, and picked up his lute. He plucked idly at the strings until he was seemingly happy that they were in tune, and then he began to sing. Geralt sighed as he sank deeper into the hot water, the enchantment really did feel like a sort of massage as jets of water pulsed against his skin, but he couldn’t help but wonder. The oils, the candles, the romantic ballad…

Was his friend trying to tell him something?

It was time for Geralt to test the waters as it was. He trod the water with his hand, gently splashing to the beat of Dandelion’s song. Normally, he would close his eyes and let the poet’s music fill the room, but instead he was mesmerised by the way Dandelion’s finger caressed the lute strings. Geralt could feel his cock harden as he pondered what other uses his friend’s delicate hands could have, the way they found their mark with such precision. The poet could make any instrument sing to the gods in his hands, Geralt was sure that he was no exception.

“Practicing your fingering?” he asked Dandelion with a tilt of his head.

The strings twanged unpleasantly, making Geralt grimace as the sound reverberated in his head. “I’m sorry, what did you say?”

Geralt smirked. “On your lute.”

“Right, yes, of course,” Dandelion muttered. “I’m just trying to figure out the next verse. I could use a hand, or an ear if you’d be willing to help.”

“I have a hand you could use, or two,” Geralt muttered not really intending for Dandelion to hear him but the poet had sharp ears and he spluttered incoherently as he set down his lute.

Geralt hummed and let his hand drop beneath the water, stroking his cock lazily. He wasn’t really chasing any real pleasure, but it was a good feeling, sending warmth across his skin. The bath, the candles, the song, they had to mean something even in Dandelion’s subconsciousness. The man was an insatiable flirt, and yet never seemed to notice when others’ affections were cast upon him, not unless it was blunt in its honesty.

So Geralt would be blunt.

He closed his eyes as he continued to stroke the length of his cock, the motion causing the water to ripple slightly, but not yet enough to draw Dandelion’s attention. The poet was too busy wittering on about his rhymes, only noticing when Geralt’s breath hitched as he cupped his balls.

“Geralt?”

“Dandelion,” Geralt grunted softly, his pleasure beginning to build from a warm ember to a roaring blaze that burned through him. The poet’s cornflower blue eyes were on him, dark and hungry. His cheeks were flushed rosy, and it seemed his dear friend was finally catching onto what was happening.

“I- I can leave, my friend, if you would prefer…”

“Stay,” Geralt insisted. “This not what you had in mind?”

“Well,” Dandelion laughed. “I had hoped, but I never thought it would actually happen, and well, really I thought it might take a little more convincing. Who knew all I needed all along were a few cheap candles?”

“Just get in the bath, Dandelion,” Geralt growled.

“Okay, okay,” Dandelion said with a roll of his eyes but shrugged out of his robe, allowing Geralt to admire his slender form. The poet’s cock remained soft as he stepped into the water. “So… how long?”

“Hmm?”

“How long have I been more than just a friend to you, Geralt?” Dandelion asked, settling into the water with a soft moan. His hands resting on Geralt’s thighs, fingers drawing patterns on Geralt’s skin under the water.

It wasn’t an easy question to answer. Could he even pin it down? Geralt wasn’t sure.

“Hard to tell, our friendship has never exactly been normal, Dandelion,” Geralt admitted.

Dandelion laughed, leaning forward in the tub, his hands stroking up Geralt’s thigh, the movement forcing the air from Geralt’s lungs. “You know, you’re right, and I think we should celebrate.”

“Celebrate?”

“Mhmm, and how about we start with a kiss?” Dandelion winked, before falling into Geralt embrace with a splash.

#the witcher #geraskier #gerlion #the witcher 3 #tw3 #geralt of rivia #dandelion #geralt x dandelion #wolfie's witcher writing

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marshmallow-phd · 4 years ago

Text

Healing Touch

Part of The Untamed - EXO Wolf Universe

Genre: Wolf!AU

Pairing: Yixing x Reader

Summary: Medical school abroad was the last line on your to-do list before starting the rest of your life. Everything was going according to plan. Everything, that is, until tragedy strikes your campus. In the wake of a professor’s untimely death, you’re partnered with the cute boy with a breathtaking smile in the newly combined labs. You find yourself unable to resist the dimples and shy glances, but his life is here with no plans of leaving. Will you continue on as planned or will you accept the hand that Fate had dealt you?

Part: 1 I 2 I 3 I 4 I 5 I 6 I 7 I 8 I 9 I 10 I Final

The smell had not changed in all the years that you used to call this place home. Pinecone potpourri mixed with traditional cooking spices and a hint of citrus from the constant dusting. Your aunt had always been a bit eccentric, a bit off beat. It had made being raised by her both adventurous and anxiety-inducing.

In the privacy of your home, her random dance parties and unfiltered way of speaking made you laugh. But when you were in public and she was pretending to be a mannequin in a window display, you ran away to the food court to hide behind a cup of boba. The explanation was always the same no matter what antics she was pulling: she wanted to break you out of your shell. It seemed like a lost cause. You were comfortable in your shell. It protected you and kept you warm.

“I don’t see how you expect to go trialing off to a place you’ve never been before,” your aunt had complained when you first told her about applying to the far away college.

“They’re two entirely different situations,” you had argued. “I can go to class and go back home without any issues.” These days there was your phone if you ever got lost or in need of food but didn’t want to leave the comfort of your apartment. Modern conveniences only enabled your shut-in ways.

“But what about, you know, friends?” She looked at you over her stylish, cat-eye glasses that she had no use for with her perfect vision.

“I have those,” you insisted. So, you might not have had a best friend, but you had people that you occasionally hung out with and collaborated on. Then there was Victoria and Amber from high school. You still spoke to them regularly, despite them going to different colleges out of the area. Your aunt didn’t realize that not everyone needed multiple circles of friends to bounce between.

Pushing her glasses back up her nose, your aunt pouted. “I just worry about you, that’s all. You still don’t like getting into cars, especially by yourself, and if you happen to be studying late….”

“I don’t mind taking the bus.” A bit of a stretch. You did mind but would still take it if the situation were dire enough. Walking was good exercise. And better for the environment. Someone had to look out for the little bunnies.

“Alright,” your aunt huffed as she sipped on her now lukewarm tea. “It is your life. I’m just a spectator of it.”

“At least you have premium seating,” you teased.

That had made your aunt laugh. She was back to her more carefree self.

“Is that my favorite niece?”

“No, it’s your least favorite nephew.”

Your aunt poked her head out of the hallway, the edge of her pink fuzzy robe telling you that she was getting ready to go out.

That was the exchange the two of you always had when you came to visit. The first time around, you had rolled your eyes and given the sarcastic answer for the cliché greeting. As your mother and aunt were the only siblings in their family and your father was the single offspring from his parents, there were no other nieces or nephews to put above or below you.

Without prompt, your aunt passed through the living room and onto the kitchen. When she came back, she had two wine glasses filled with bubble pink liquid. After handing you the lesser filled glass, she sat down on the couch while you opted for the loveseat, letting your purse drop to the hardwood floor by your feet. Your aunt leaned back on the arm rest with one elbow as she sipped on the wine. “It’s watermelon,” she informed you when you hadn’t taken a drink. “Try it.”

Shaking your head, you did as she asked. Oh, no. It was delicious. That was dangerous. You took another, larger swig before putting the glass down on the coffee table.

Growing up, you’d felt bad for your aunt. Sometimes you still did, though not as much after her many lectures as to why you shouldn’t.

She’d always been the carefree one. As a marketing consultant, she was constantly flying all over the globe, having adventures in between work meetings and bringing those experiences back to you in the form of expensive souvenirs. When your parents volunteered to go help a poorer nation with their health crisis, your aunt was quick to lend her babysitting services. It was only supposed to be temporary, after all. Then tragedy struck

Your parents never came back and suddenly your aunt was now your permanent guardian. The carefree spirit took it in stride. She shifted her strategy to more web-based conferences until you were in high school and able to be on your own for longer periods of time. She never turned into your mother; she never wanted to. For that, you were even more thankful. She was still the spontaneous, forever young aunt that you had always known. That stability in her personality was exactly what you needed. Too much had changed in your world on a dime, the less that was altered the better.

“What prompted this little visit?” she asked, a curious half smile on her lips.

You shrugged. “I hadn’t seen you in a while, so I thought I’d stop by and say hi. It looks like you’re getting ready to go out, though.”

Your aunt waved her hand limply. “Not for a few hours. Besides, anything can wait for you.”

Shifting in your seat, you smiled at the affection she had for you. “I finally heard from the university,” you told her.

Her eyebrows shot up. “You did? They finally decided to stop dangling the carrot and just give it to you, did they?”

“Not exactly,” you cringed. “They said they wanted to see how this semester went and then they would let me know.”

Your aunts face fell into a scowl as if something awful smelling had made its way into her nose. “What sense does that make?”

You shrugged. “I don’t know. But at least it’s not an outright no.”

Clicking her tongue, your aunt leaned forward so she was now balancing her elbows on her knees. “You know, there are still other options. Closer options.”

“I know,” you said with a monotone voice. “But Plan A is my focus. I’ll look to other options if that falls through.”

That knowing look you were all too familiar with formed on her face. A long, reminiscing sigh blew out from her lungs. “You are so much like your mother. It’s scary sometimes.”

You never knew how to respond when she said things like that. Should you be happy at the comparison? Sad because your mother wasn’t here to tell you herself? You were a child when your parents passed away. You remembered vague moments, birthday parties and movie nights. But when you’re that young, you don’t get a good idea of your parents’ personalities. You don’t learn what they like or don’t like, how they act in crowds versus a small group of people. You have to rely on the memories of those left behind.

You stayed at your aunt’s house for another hour or so, talking to her about her latest clients and nights out with the girls. You told her how your days were going and how you were adjusting to the new routine with the combined class. The news of Yixing sat on the tip of your tongue, but you couldn’t bring yourself to mention him. Her reaction would have been too predictable. She’d ask when the two of you were going to go out and when you explained that it wasn’t like that, she would ask why not. For that, you didn’t have an answer.

While you wanted to say that the two of you were just friends, it didn’t feel like the truth.

You saw more of Yixing than of anyone else, including Ran. He would walk you to class multiple times a day and the two of you would talk. Not about anything too deep. You weren’t at that level yet. He was funny and charming, never speaking a word that wasn’t kind. You learned that he lived in farmhouse in the woods with eight other people, all men. He swore it was never too crowded and that he actually enjoyed the company. He got lonely easily.

He also told you about how he took a few years off of college to figure out what he wanted to do. You’d asked him how he came to the path of becoming a doctor. He said he simply wanted to do something that would help people. He thought about opening a low-income clinic once he had his degree. Suddenly your heart was pumping under your sternum. When he asked why you went pre-med, you gave a shrug and said your parents and left it at that. These conversations were usually nice and lighthearted, you didn’t want to be the downer.

Yes, spending time with Yixing was nice, the highlight of your day, sometimes. But he also felt like a secret. One that you should keep to yourself for now. Good things didn’t always last. You wanted to see if this was a long-term investment for him before you invited anyone else in.

The next day, you needed some fresh air, so you decided to take a walk in the nature center on the edge of town. Although the woods would be a no-go area since they still hadn’t caught the animal terrorizing the area, the center would be full of people and should be quite safe. It couldn’t really be considered part of the woods given the infrastructure and the observation building, could it? Deciding to go anyway, you packed your bag with a few notes, snacks, and a water bottle. As your hand landed on the doorknob to leave, your eyes fell on the jacket lying on the back of the couch.

You hadn’t worn the comforting fabric since that day. The weather had been nice and putting it on would have seemed a bit obnoxious in your eyes. But this morning the weatherman had mentioned a chilly breeze. It wouldn’t hurt.

Arms through their designated holes, you left the apartment and started the walk to the outskirts of town. It wasn’t too far of a walk, maybe thirty, forty minutes at the most. You thanked yourself for wearing the jacket. A “chilly breeze” was an understatement. A few families and couples were dotted among the trails of the nature center that wound near and over the small creek. You passed by them all until you came to a spot that was deserted. Resting your legs, you sat on a bench with your back to the trees. The sun was shining up above. The only noise seemed to come from the rustling leaves and trickling creek. It was peaceful, just what you needed.

With your bag beside you, you took out a piece of paper with yesterday’s notes and started to review them. Some of the words were smudged and the edges were already crinkling, but you could make most of it out. The paper flopped in the wind. You thought you had a good enough grip on it, but a gust of air proved you wrong.

The paper went flying over your head and straight for the trees. Panic made you jump up, slinging your bag over your shoulder as you ran after it. The wind – now relentless – was enough to keep the paper continuously out of your reach.

It finally came to a stop when it caught on a tree root sticking out in the ground. You snatched the paper up and stuffed it into the bag to keep it from running away again. Straightening up again, your eyes settled on the horizon.

Then you screamed.

Yixing’s eyes snapped open.

He was no longer a wolf. He was human again. Sitting up, he brushed off the leaves from his arms. What time was it? Was it even the same day? He’d blacked out again. At this point, it was almost routine. His only consolation prize being the fact that he was alone. He still needed to figure out what was happening to him. He wasn’t ready to take this to his brothers. There was enough to worry about at the moment.

Getting on his feet, Yixing headed in the direction of where his things were stored. In order to avoid the others wanting to run with him, he’d entered the forest from a different area, storing his things in a bush to get back to later. He flicked his jeans to get the dirt off before pulling them on and then stuffing his feet in his shoes.

A piercing cry for cut through the air.

The hair on the back of Yixing’s neck stood up.

“Help! Somebody help!”

It was your voice.

He gasped. Then he took off. If anything happened to you-

Yixing skidded to a stop when he saw you kneeling in the grass. A body was laying in front of you, the clothes ripped and stained dark. It was lying face down, but Yixing could tell that it was a man and that he’d been attacked.

“(Y/n), what happened?”

You stared at him with wide, confused eyes. “Yixing? What are you doing here?”

He ignored your question, more worried about your own wellbeing. “What happened?” he repeated.

You shook your head as you dropped your eyes to the man lying on the ground. “I don’t know. I just found him like this. He’s still breathing but I’m not strong enough to move him.”

Yixing analyzed the situation. His car was only on the other side of the trees. The man was still alive. From Yixing’s point of view, he could make it, but they needed to act fast. Slipping his arms under the man while careful not to move him too much, he picked the man up and motioned with his head for you to follow.

He said nothing and you asked no questions as the tree line broke. Yixing scanned the parking lot of the nature center until he found his car. He rushed to the vehicle with a few glances over his shoulder to make sure you were keeping up with him.

“(y/n)?”

“Yeah?” You were huffing. Had he been running? He’d tried to go at a pace that you could keep up with.

“In my front right pocket are my keys. Can you fish them out and unlock the doors?”

You nodded. Yixing could feel your fingers trembling as they slipped into the denim opening. The shaking was even more obvious once the keys were free, the house and car keys clinking together as you searched for the fob to unlock the doors. Without prompt, you opened the back door to allow Yixing to slip the man into the bench seat. He told you to get in the front. You tossed him the keys and the two of you rushed to the hospital.

A pair of doctors rushed out of the automatic doors as soon as the car pulled into the emergency entrance.

“We found him in the woods,” Yixing explained. The doctors quickly examined the man as two more nurses came out with a stretcher.

“I think that animal attacked him,” you added.

Yixing’s eyes flickered over to you with worry. The doctors nodded in acknowledgement then helped the nurses move the man to the stretcher. The two of you followed closely but were forced to stay behind in the waiting room. Yixing sat next to you in the uncomfortable plastic chairs that were connected to the wall.

“You never answered the question.”

Yixing frowned. “What question?”

You turned to look at him with your eyebrows furrowed, making him want to reach out and smooth the creases they created. “What you were doing out in the woods.”

Yixing stiffened. He pressed his foot into the tile floor to keep it from bouncing. “I was… hiking.”

“Without a shirt?”

He looked down. Crap. He hadn’t even realized that he wasn’t finished getting dressed before he took off. “I get warm easily.”

Your eyes narrowed suspiciously. Yixing fought to keep his face neutral. It was a pathetic excuse, he knew it. But you didn’t call him out on it. Instead, you leaned forward, unzipping the polyester bomber that was easily recognizable as his own, taking it off, and holding it out to him.

“I’m fine,” Yixing said, ignoring the jacket.

“You really should put it on. I heard the front desk call the cops. They’ll be here soon, and it’ll look suspicious. What would you tell them the reason was for you not having a shirt?”

A cheeky answer came to mind. Yixing bit down to hold it back, even if it would have caused your face to heat up in an adorable fashion. The instinct of making sure his mate was okay was almost too great to ignore. You were the one who needed to stay warm, stay protected. But you had a valid point. And you were inside, out of the wind. So, he accepted the jacket and ran the zipper almost up to his neck to hide the lack of shirt underneath.

The police arrived about twenty minutes later. They separated you, making him anxious. Over the next hour or so, Yixing gave his side of the story to the officer. They took him at his word that he was strolling through the woods. The doctors had already informed the officers that the wounds were clearly animal made. While severe, they weren’t life threatening. That gave Yixing a small amount of relief.

“Would you two like to see him?” one of the nurses asked another hour later. You nodded eagerly. Yixing stayed a bit behind as the nurse led you through the halls to a large room that held several beds separated by plastic curtains.

The man was awake. Black stitches covered his arms. Three claw marks ran down the left cheek. From what Yixing knew of the other victims, this guy was lucky. He was talking to a nurse when he looked to see who his visitors were. As soon as his eyes landed on Yixing, the heart monitor spiked and his breathing quickened.

“Hey, it’s okay, these are the people who found you,” the nurse said to try and calm him down.

“Oh.” The man’s heart rate started to slow again. Each breath was deeper until they were back to normal. “I’m sorry.”

“How are you feeling?” you asked, taking a step forward. Yixing fought the urge to put himself between you and the man you’d rescued. He was probably harmless, but he had also been through a traumatic situation.

The man nodded. “I’m… alive, at least. Thank you.”

You gave a small smile. “I’m glad I came along when I did. Did you,” you bit your bottom lip nervously, “happen to see what attacked you?”

Yixing held his breath.

“It was a large gray wolf,” the man answered. “Huge. Like a mutated one you would see in the movies. He came from nowhere, knocked me down. I thought I was going to end up like the others as he clawed at me. Then he was gone.”

Yixing’s fist tightened at his side, his throat constricting. He forced down a swallow. He couldn’t panic. Not here.

You frowned. “I wonder what scared him off.”

“Maybe you did?” Yixing said with a slight tease. It was more to keep his own mental state calm than for the benefit of everyone else.

“I’m not that frightening.”

“Whatever it was,” the man shook his head, “I’m thankful.”

“He should really rest now,” the nurse said sternly. Yixing nodded in agreement and, after the goodbyes were given, led you away.

Once outside of the hospital, Yixing stopped you. “I can take you home.”

“That’s okay,” you countered, “I can walk.”

He didn’t like that one bit. Besides, he really needed you by his side right now. “Where do you live?”

“In an apartment near campus.”

No way. “That’s nearly halfway across the city. I can take you. It’s not a big deal.”

You shifted form foot to foot, refusing to meet his eye. “I don’t… really like cars.”

“You made it here alright.”

“That’s because I was too worried about him to think about it. The adrenaline blocked everything out.”

“I’m a safe driver, I promise.”

“I believe you. I just-” You blew air out between your lips, which ended in a growl. It was actually kind of cute. Yixing pushed back a grin. It wasn’t appropriate right now. “My parents were killed in a car crash, so they kind of freak me out.” You sucked in your lips as if you hadn’t meant to reveal that vital information.

Oh. That explained… a lot actually. At least, in terms of what you had been holding back from him. He never wanted to push, but he felt better knowing more about you.

“I understand,” he said sympathetically. “Can I walk you home then? I can come back for my car later.”

You shook your head. “That’s ridiculous.”

“Maybe so. But I need to make sure that you get home safe.”

You weighed his alternative for a minute or so. Yixing kept his patience. He refused to push you farther than you were willing to go. He just needed to see you walk safely into your building and then he would be okay until he saw you again.

“Okay,” you sighed. “You can drive me home.” He could have leapt with joy.

Yixing waited for you to get in the car before sliding behind the wheel himself. The death grip you had on the side handle didn’t escape his notice. He made sure to slow down easily and to take each turn with care. The only words you spoke were to give him directions. It wasn’t until the car was in park outside of your building did you finally relax.

“Thank you,” you told him in a strained voice.

“Any time.”

“I’m sorry if I was a little dramatic. I—” the growl of your empty stomach interrupted your speech. You groaned from embarrassment. Yixing couldn’t help his laugh.

Knock, knock, knock.

Leaning over and looking through the passenger window of his car was a strange girl Yixing had never seen before. He rolled down the window barely enough to be able hear what she was saying.

“How the hell did you get (y/n) into a car?” the girl gasped. You visibly cringed in the seat, sinking down a few inches.

Yixing blinked, unsure of how to respond. “Um, I—”

“Yixing, this is my roommate, Ran,” you interrupted, saving him. “Ran, this is Yixing. We have class together.”

“Oh!” The inclination behind her exclamation was more than obvious. And Yixing didn’t object to it. “I just ordered pizza and I know (y/n) usually gets hungry around this time. Do you want to join us?”

You flashed your roommate a panicked look, but Yixing couldn’t resist the opportunity. “That sounds great.” He caught you flinching, so he added, “As long as (y/n)’s okay with it.”

“Yeah,” you relented. “It’s the least I could do. For the ride.” You flashed an annoyed glare at Ran before getting out of the vehicle.

Yixing shouldn’t be this elated as he nearly sprung from the driver’s seat. He walked around the car slowly and let you and Ran lead the way, in case you changed your mind. You didn’t, thankfully, and Yixing walked up to your door with anticipation so great that he almost was able to forget what the man had said back at the hospital.

Almost.

#exo #exo wolf au #exo wolf!au #yixing x reader #zhang yixing #lay #lay x reader #exo x fem!reader #exo werewolf au #exo werewolf!au #exo fanfic #exo fanfiction #exo supernatural au #exo series #exo college au #exo college!au #The Untamed Universe #Healing Touch

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smallheathgangsters · 5 years ago

Text

Second Youngest | Part Two

Part One

A/N: This took way longer than it should have and I thoroughly apologise for that! There have been so many people asking for a part two and I hope you are happy with what I came up with :) Also, I switched from third person to second person, because I felt more comfortable while writing. Love you all, stay safe and healthy! 🧡

Tag List: @annabethgranger123 @marvelschriss @bloodorangemoonlight @chill-bee

Shelby!Sister Reader

Word Count: 1599

Type: angst, some fluff

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

It was horrible, downright dreadful, hearing Finn argue with your family, while you were in the kitchen doing the dishes. The water in the sink was very hot, but the burning sensation was a distraction you welcomed. Still, it was impossible for you to ignore the conversation going on in the room next to you.

“She never once complained in all these years and now suddenly she’s upset about her situation?” you heard Polly scoff.

“The way you’re reacting to this is exactly the reason why she’d always been afraid to speak up about it!”

Finn’s voice sounded very frustrated and you felt bad for having him stand up for you. You hated yourself for not having the courage to hold the conversation yourself. To be your own fighter. You’d initially rejected Finn’s offer to talk to the family, but he’d insisted and there had been nothing you could’ve done to make him change his mind. He’d been very determined to start integrating you into the Shelby household in a way that was more respectful and loving.

But it seemed hopeless. The venom, the dripping poison in their words weren’t indicating any progress towards a compromise and all you wanted to do was get Finn out of the crossfire he was in. Tell him to leave it be, but that you were thankful for his dedication to make you part of the family.

“Pretty pathetic if you ask me,” Michael huffed, and Arthur agreed. “Sending her little brother? That’s exactly why she can’t be a part of our business.”

“Can’t you just give her a chance? She’s done nothing wrong!” Finn pleaded. You shuddered at Finn’s begging. There was no reason for him to put himself in a position like that. As the youngest of them all, he’d had it hard already, constantly having to prove himself to his brothers … he shouldn’t be risking the loss of respect he’d gained up until now because of you.

“Look Finn, if she’s not ready to speak up for herself, we’re not going to change anything to her satisfaction. Life isn’t easy and she apparently still needs to learn that.”

Tommy’s voice sounded calm, firm and bored. Bored of you. “Now please stop embarrassing yourself and get back to work.”

Immediately, there were chairs being pushed back and the footsteps of multiple people were audible. After only a few seconds, your brothers and Polly were out the door and peace returned. Finally. The house was quiet again and you let out the breath you were holding, freeing your lungs from the slight pain it had caused. Free of pain. The one thing you so desperately wished for.

You closed your eyes while your hands were holding a porcelain plate under water. When you heard a careful knock on the door, your eyelids sprung open and you started scrubbing the residue of food off the plate, almost a little forcefully.

You knew it was Finn, wanting to check up on you. He was aware that you’d been unintentionally eavesdropping from the kitchen and already knew what news he was bringing.

Finn pushed the kitchen door open and stepped inside, closing it quietly behind him. “Y/N, I’m sorry. I really tried–“

“I know, Finn,” you interrupted him, placing the last plate next to the sink and shaking the water off your hands. Then, you turned around to face him, your back leaning against the counter. “And it’s okay. You did more than I ever wanted you to do.”

Finn’s face turned into an angry frown. “But I don’t understand why they’re being so stubborn!”

“Finn!” you said a little louder. “I said it’s okay. I don’t want you to be upset. I really appreciate what you did.”

Finn let out a loud sigh. “It’s still not fair.”

“It’s what it is.”

A few seconds later the two of you ended up in a warm, comforting hug. One that reminded you that even though nothing was good at the moment, it’ll eventually be okay. That you’ll find happiness someday, somewhere. Just not here. A realisation you had needed for the longest time.

And that realisation lead to a decision. The decision to leave. For good.

“Are you sure you want to do this?”

Finn’s voice was shaky. You watched him nervously look around the train station. Nervous about being spotted with you. Well, not with you exactly. But being spotted at the train station with you.

“Yes, I’m more than sure,” you assured him, sending your brother a kind smile. “And to be honest, I’m actually really excited.”

“Yeah?”

You nodded. And while the sun tickled Finn’s face, highlighting the countless, beautiful freckles, the train rolled in. Loudly, puffing angrily. Your eyes wandered over to the steel machine making its way closer and closer to you.

“You got the address?”

Another nod. “Thank you, Finn. For everything.”

“Please ring me as soon as possible.”

You promised and got on the train, although not before giving your sweet brother one last hug. One that was even warmer, more loving. More understanding. A friendly farewell.

London was busy. Just as Finn told you. Busy and noisy. But so pretty. And a lot less dirty than Birmingham. It smelled of luxury and wealth. Like the scent of an expensive perfume tingling in your sensitive nose. Tingling in a good way, one that gave you little butterflies in your stomach. Just like the kind you got when you passed a cute stranger on the streets.

You’d followed Finn’s instructions on the tiny paper note he’d given you the morning before you left for the new city. He had promised you that the man at the address had a job as a secretary for you. The initial feeling of doubt haunting you as you knocked on the door in one of the creepy back alleys of London had been unjustified. The man behind it was polite and very happy about getting a helping hand. The pay wasn’t huge, but enough for you. A small apartment and a place you felt home was all you needed. And that had been exactly what you’d received. Nothing more, nothing less.

And you were happy. Very happy. With every day the loneliness, the worthlessness, all the negativity Birmingham and your family had caused you, drifted further away. Up and away into the mostly cloudy, dark sky of the city. Your boss made you feel like you were relevant. Needed even. Some nights you laid awake, wondering how all of this had improved so quickly, swiftly. Huffing to yourself and shaking your head at how incapable and stubborn your family had been and how little it had taken to turn your whole world upside down. In a good way.

Unfortunately, only a few months in, on a rainy Tuesday morning, your boss was waiting for you with unlucky news.

“What does that mean?” you gasped.

“That means there’s no way for us to achieve the breakeven-point. Our incomes are too low,” he explained, the tone in his voice almost a little embarrassed.

You gulped audibly, playing with your fingers, unsure of what to do with yourself. “What now, Sir?”

“Don’t you worry, dear. I have a friend, a very talented businessman, who could use a motivated and diligent employee like you.”

“But what about you?” you asked him, genuinely worried about his future. “Do you have a plan for yourself?”

But just as he opened his mouth to respond, there was a knock on his office door, his gaze promptly leaving you. “Oh, that must be him already.”

“Him?”

“Your potential new employer.”

“Why–“

The loud exclamation leaving your boss’s mouth, inviting the stranger in, cut your sentence off. And with that, your conversation was finished already, leaving you with many open questions and a little overwhelmed.

Your eyes observed the door swinging open and a rather short man stepping into the room. Or maybe he wasn’t actually that short. Maybe his hunched posture made him seem smaller than he was. He was wearing a white shirt, one of his braces hanging loosely by his side, the other one over his shoulder, where it should be. He looked anything but a talented businessman.

“Brother! Glad you could make it!”

Had your boss’s voice just gotten slightly higher? Or was that your paranoia creeping up? The weird feeling tapping on your shoulder, reminding you of the fact that you frankly knew nothing about your boss and even less about the peculiar man standing in the doorframe.

“This the secretary you told me ‘bout?”

His steps were slow. Heavy. Dragging themselves over the floor.

You held your breath when he halted in front of you. A little too close. You were sure you were able to make out his eye colour from this distance. Blue? Greenish even?

Did he hear your heartbeat in your chest? Was he trying to make you uncomfortable? Nervous?

You gulped. But the lump in your throat was still there.

Then, you slowly held out a hand, hoping to stop him eyeing you up and down. He accepted your greeting, grabbing your hand firmly. His was rough and large.

“D’you have a name, lovely?”

You nodded, reminding yourself of Finn’s note. The last sentence on it. In bold letters. DO NOT USE YOUR REAL NAME, OR MY FAMILY WILL FIND YOU.

“Y/N … Smith.”

Smith. Your mother’s last name. One of the only things you knew about her.

The man kept shaking your hand, making you question if he’d ever let it go again.

“My pleasure. Call me Alfie. Solomons.”

#peaky blinders #second youngest #peaky blinders one shot #peaky blinders fanart #shelby!sister #shelby!sis #shelby reader #finn shelby

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inmyownlaine · 3 years ago

Text

Cages: John Murphy x OC Fanfiction

GIF//

SPOILERS: If you have not finished the series proceed with caution!

Warnings: None

Word Count: 1664

Chapter: Two

Summary: After falling asleep, Aerie wakes up to a foreign source of light. The sudden disturbance of peace causes underlying issues to come to the surface. Murphy steps in, making matters worse.

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Aerie didn’t remember falling asleep. Murphy was rolled up in a ball, turned away from her. She rubbed her eyes carefully, trying her best to keep the sand out. It was still dark, the sun nowhere in sight.

She loved mornings like these. The ones where it seemed like everything was asleep, even the earth itself. Where she could disconnect from reality and imagine herself in another universe. Aerie could encounter a million mornings like this and still feel the same exact way: completely at peace.

Aerie began to stretch out, her back craned with her chest pushing towards the stars. As she tilted her neck back, preparing to loosen the cramped muscles, a sudden flash of light exploded against the indigo sky. She straightened herself immediately, leaning forwards and scrambling to her knees.

She was no astronomer. She wouldn’t even consider herself knowledgeable about space. But she knew enough to reasonably conclude that this was no shooting star. It’s lasting glow remained in the sky as it slowly traveled to the ground, dipping and diving over the uneven terrain.

It was something foreign. Maybe even magic.

Eyes wide with horror and mouth clamped with fear, she nudged Murphy awake.. He groaned aloud and flopped on his back, sticking his arms straight up in the air. “What?” he grumbled, sounding eerily similar to a moody teenager.

Aerie didn’t even have to reply. Through closed eyelids, Murphy saw the incoming brightness. He threw his arm over his face, providing very little shade from the beam. “Aerie?” he yelled, almost as if he expected her to have any answers.

Of course, she didn’t. Rooted to her spot, she squinted in the light’s direction, curiosity taking over her better instincts. Though she had never seen anything like this, it felt familiar to her. As if she had experienced this herself.

“What are you doing?” Murphy’s arm latched onto her forearm, tugging with enough force to move her a couple inches in the sand. It was then she realized how dire the situation was, clambering to her feet and retreating with Murphy back to the huts.

The commotion caused the rest of the group to come outside. They were clearly feeling the same way as Aerie: frightened, yet curious. Just as things were feeling safe, another freak phenomenon had to ruin what they were building.

“What’s going on?” Raven questioned, ponytail swinging from side to side as she frantically tried to look at everyone at once.

“Run!” Clarke replied, ignoring Raven completely and entering survival mode.

They had only gotten to the edge of the sand when the light stopped above the sea foam. It levitated before slowly descending to the ground. Everyone stopped, clinging onto one another for support. If this was going to end in war, they were going to fight it together.

The beam started to dissipate, resembling that of a tamed firework. Sparkles of gold and yellow swirled in a cylindrical pattern before finally coming together to form a silhouette. They started disappearing at the top, moving downwards as a body took its place. First a mop of curly brown hair, then a dark pair of eyes, warm enough to thaw the heart of any villain, outsider, or wrongdoer.

Aerie watched in awe as a man with a white robe stood in front of them, seemingly calm and inquisitive. It was a look she didn’t get to see much. He was always worried about protecting his friends and being the perfect leader. It was nice, for a change, to see him in a state of tranquility. No matter how anyone felt about his newfound beliefs.

“Bellamy,” Octavia whispered, face contorting into disbelief and sadness. Echo took a step towards him, but stopped herself after the first one.

He gave a small smile, nodding in her direction. It had been a long time since any of them had seen Bellamy. Aerie could sense the tension radiating from Clarke. The last time she was with Bellamy, she tried to kill him. Aerie questioned why he would return to a group of people that was so hostile towards him.

“Why did you come back?” Echo asked.

“Now you can’t transcend,” Aerie added. She knew that he wanted it more than anything. She remembered the look in his eyes when she left him last. It was full of hope that had been drained from his body long ago. Aerie was one of few that decided not to take that away from him.

“You can’t,” he corrected, hands folded patiently in front of his stomach. “You were saved by grace. But I believed.”

“So, what? You’re going to come here and rub it in our face?” Clarke retorted, arms crossed across her chest.

Bellamy wasn’t fazed. Instead, he stared at her deeply with his dark brown eyes. Lips pursed together calmly, studying the nature of a person that had lost everything. He knew it wasn’t personal.

“Madi is fine.”

Clarke’s lower lip began to tremble as she fell backwards, grabbing onto Murphy’s shoulder. He placed his arm around her lower back, eyes wide with surprise. Carefully, Murphy lowered Clarke to the ground as tears fell from her eyes.

“In fact, I would say she’s thriving. No more war. No more fear. It’s the perfect place for her.”

Aerie knew Clarke disagreed. The perfect place for Madi, in Clarke’s eyes, was with her. Yetshe couldn’t afford to be selfish. Madi didn’t have a life on Earth. There were no children for her to socialize with. There was nothing to help her grow. She would be the only human her age in a world of terror.

“And I forgive you,” Bellamy spoke, nodding towards Clarke.

“I don’t need your forgiveness,” she spat, the corners of her mouth pulling down towards her chin. “If anything, you are the one that needs redemption. I lost everything because of you. Everything!”

The birds scattered from the trees as she wailed aloud. Everyone standing had a story to tell. No one’s life was easy. But Clarke’s seemed to trump them all.

Aerie lost her parents in seconds, along with most of Skaikru when the Ark fell from orbit. She still wasn’t over it, and never truly would be, but at least her father wasn’t floated. And at least her partner wasn’t murdered. And at least her mother’s body wasn’t stolen. And at least she was able to transcend. The atrocities continued on for Clarke Griffin.

“Whether you do or don’t, just know you have it.”

“Out of all the things I want to have,” Clarke scoffed, “your good graces are not on my list.”

With that, she pushed herself off the sand and headed towards the forest line. Bellamy’s fingertips pulled towards her, but the rest of him remained. Raven chased after Clarke, calling her name as they disappeared into the trees. Silence fell as the rest of the group shared awkward glances with one another.

“Why are you here?” Echo finally asked. The sockets of her eyes were flushed pink, holding back a flurry of emotions. She made it perfectly clear how upset she was with Bellamy the first week Skaikru spent together. She couldn’t believe how he could betray the people loved.

But beneath all that rage, she was mostly hurt. Hurt that he chose faith over her. That she wasn’t his main priority in a world where everything was uncertain. In a time where everyone needed each other to get through. She felt used.

“I have unfinished business,” he stated simply. Bellamy’s head dropped, but beneath hooded lids, his eyes fixated on Aerie. Octavia noticed this immediately, a cackle escaping her lips.

“Of course,” she jaunted, throwing her hands in the air. “You came for your savior. Not your sister. Not your girlfriend. Her.”

Aerie scoffed in response, insulted by the obvious venom Octavia was spitting. She had every right to feel upset, but not at Aerie’s expense.

A tear trickled down Echo’s cheek as she bit the inside of her cheek. Fearing loss of control, she spun around and ran to her hut. Bellamy’s mouth opened, a silent battle raging in his head. He wasn’t allowed to love. It made him weak. It clouded his judgement.

It didn’t matter. The door slammed behind her, shutting him out for the time being.

“Save it, big brother,” Octavia grumbled.

“Knock it off, Octavia,” Murphy spoke up. It caused Aerie to tense up. She forgot he was standing beside her. Come to think of it, she forgot there was a whole crowd of people watching the dramatic scene.

“What? My own brother comes back to earth and instead of wanting to see me, he wants Aerie.”

“Well if I were Bellamy I would probably avoid you, too,” Murphy countered. “Who was the one that supported Clarke’s decision?”

She charged at him, but Levitt wrapped his arms around her torso, pulling her back as she yelled profanities at Murphy. He wasn’t the least bit fazed. Instead, he stood in front of her, arms crossed defiantly across his chest. Octavia continued to kick around in an attempt to free herself.

“Are you done yet?” Murphy asked, unamused.

Octavia let out a blood-curdling scream. It was something she had gotten particularly good at after becoming Bloodreina. There were a lot of awful events that spawned from that moment in time, but she did learn how to let out a gruesome battle cry.

Indra stepped in between the two, signalling for Gaia to help Levitt take her away. She did so immediately, trying to comfort her in the process. “It doesn’t matter!” Octavia yelled. “Bellamy died a long time ago! He died!”

Bellamy’s face scrunched together, an expression of anguish easy to see. He didn’t let it linger, relaxing his muscles quickly before addressing Aerie. “Is there somewhere we can go? To talk?”

“Yeah,” Aerie answered, already leading the way. Bellamy trailed behind, leaving the others to gossip among themselves.

“You and I have a lot to discuss.”

#john murphy #writing #the100 #love #john murphy fanfic #the 100 #the 100 fanfiction #john murphy imagine #john murphy x oc #john murphy fanfiction #john murphy fic

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nokomiss · 4 years ago

Note

How about: "I won't forget this." *Rolling their eyes* "Thats's the idea y'know." With Jaysteph?

The tragedy happened -- poetically, really -- in Crime Alley.

Two mid-class goons currently serving Two-Face were barreling down the middle of the street in a stolen armored truck, sideswiping anyone who didn’t swerve out of the way quick enough. Steph didn’t even know what the special occasion was -- it was both an odd month and an odd day, so maybe it was just Two-Face causing what chaos he could -- and Steph was the closest on patrol. She swung in, regretting her choice to leave the Compact behind, and tried her best to catch up with the armored truck.

“Any help?” she called over the comms. “O, can you do something about the traffic, maybe? These guys are not following the rules of the road.”

“Already there,” Babs said. “Red Hood is incoming.”

Steph managed to hook a line onto the truck just as Red Hood appeared on a really nice bike. Nice enough she noticed even when flying through the air aiming her body at a speeding truck.

She landed on top of the truck with more grace than she’d been hoping for, given her iffy relationship with gravity in general, and began to make her way towards the cab of the truck. “Hood, can you distract them?”

“On it,” Jason replied, and a second later the armored truck swerved wildly as a chain wrapped around one of its wheels. Steph kept her grip, and made her way unnoticed to the roof above the driver. She knew the glass was bulletproof, but that didn’t so much matter if the driver couldn’t see through it. She anchored herself to the top of the truck, then splattered two gooperangs on the windshield.

Instant chaos. The driver, just correcting from Jason’s attack on his wheels, lost total control of the truck as his vision was completely obscured. Steph gripped tightly to the magnetic gripper she’d anchored down. Her cape whipped around her as she tried to figure out where Jason and his bike were -- she definitely needed to bail soon, as the truck was aimed right for the concrete pillars supporting an overpass.

“Behind you,” Jason said through the comm, clearly seeing her dilemma, and Steph let go of her anchor as she felt the truck lurch over a curb.

She managed to somersault off the back of the truck like she did it every day, and caught onto Jason’s handlebars in a move she couldn’t replicate if she tried, but was so grateful that she pulled off. A half-turn and a twist and she was landing roughly in Jason’s arms like she’d planned it all out, and a second later the armored truck smashed into the pillar, front end crumpling like an accordion.

Jason pulled the bike to a stop, and Steph hopped out of his arms before offering him a high five. He grinned at the destruction they’d caused and high fived her back before they went to check on the goons, who were both groggy and easy to subdue. There were two dollar bills floating comically around them, like it was a cartoon, and Steph understood why Two Face had staged this particular robbery.

“Huh,” Jason said, catching one of the bills mid-air. “Who knew there were this many in circulation?”

“And in a city known for Two-Face’s crimes, even,” Steph said. “Like. What was the take, a couple hundred bucks?”

Jason pocketed the bill he’d caught, and Steph rolled her eyes at him. “What?” he said. “Batman takes trophies all the time.”

Steph could hardly argue that point, having spent more than her fair share of time climbing the giant dinosaur. “Thanks for the assist, this went way smoother than--”

She was interrupted mid-sentence by an ominous creaking noise overhead. She looked up, saw the cracks in the concrete, and grabbed onto Jason’s sleeve. “Run!”

They sprinted across the road, and watched in mutual horror as a broken slab of concrete, loosened by the crash, fell directly onto Jason’s motorcycle.

“Oh no,” Steph said quietly.

“Oh shit,” Jason said, and it was not the horror-struck tone of someone who had lost a prized possession. It was the horror-struck tone of someone who had fucked up majorly.

Steph looked at him. Jason pointed at the crushed metal that had formerly been a red motorcycle with a shaking hand. “Please tell me I’m hallucinating.”

“Gotham’s infrastructure really never recovered from No Man’s Land,” Steph said, patting him on the arm. “I mean, that was a really nice bike, but at least we caught the bad guys?”

“It was a really nice bike,” Jason said. “It also wasn’t my bike.”

“Yikes,” Steph said. She cautiously moved closer, but there were no more creaking sounds overhead. The bike was thoroughly crushed, though. She poked at a bent wheel with the toe of her boot. “Bruce’s?”

Jason nodded. “Shit, shit, shit.”

“I mean, it’s not like he can’t afford another one?” Steph offered.

“There aren’t any more,” Jason said. “And he fucking loves that bike.”

“How can there not be any more? It’s not like donut holes at the bakery,” Steph said. “It’s a motorcycle.” A Ducati, granted, and a definite loss, but… Jason was not taking this well. She wondered if he needed a hug.

“There were less than eight in the world. Seven now, I guess,” Jason said. He began picking pieces of concrete off the bike’s remains. “Come on, you have to help me hide the body.”

“Hide the -- you’re shitting me,” Steph said. “You love breaking Bruce’s stuff. Last month you took a picture of yourself next to the Batmobile you wrecked and made it the Batcomputer wallpaper.”

“Well, this is different,” Jason said. “Come on. I saved your ass, now you get to save mine.”

Steph couldn’t really argue with that, given that Jason had kindly kept her from splattering on the pavement. She began to move concrete chunks, and the more of the bike they unearthed, the worse it looked. Oil and gasoline smeared the pavement like blood, and the bike itself was mangled beyond recognition. The bright red paint was coated with concrete dust, turning it dull brown.

There was absolutely no way they were wheeling it away from the scene, and Steph could hear police sirens echoing down the street. They cleared off the rest of the concrete as Steph remotely called the Compact. She glanced over her shoulder and noticed Jason doing the same. “We can drag it over behind that pillar?” she suggested, pointing to one that didn’t have an armored truck smashed into it.

It was less than fifteen feet away, but it took all their combined effort to get the bike’s remains behind the pillar before the cops came. Steph hurried out, grabbing a broken tail light off the pavement and standing casually in front of her captured goons as the police cars careened around the corner.

The scene looked suspicious as hell, but the actual presence of a Bat at the crime scene -- even if it was Batgirl -- had the officers off-balanced enough that no one actually questioned the pile of rubble. Steph told them all the intel she had on Two-Face’s crime (not much, but she added enough details that it took a few minutes) while watching the Compact arrive out of the corner of her eye, and Jason managing to strap the Ducati’s remains to it without any officers actually noticing.

It was actually pretty hilarious, watching him struggle to shove mangled motorcycle parts into a net intended for a cartoonish capture of criminals on top of the Compact while trying to blend in with the night. He mostly failed, but luckily for him, Steph was a pretty great distraction.

“And in conclusion, what the heck, Gotham National Bank, what were you thinking? Gotta run!” she announced as soon as she saw Jason finish with the Ducati and climb into the Compact, and made a big show of firing her grappling gun and swooping off into the night like a proper vigilante.

If it hadn’t been for the one notable casualty, Steph would be having an absolutely stellar night.

She met up with him a few blocks over and climbed in the Compact, letting him continue to drive, as she had no earthly idea where one disposed of the body of a motorcycle.

Though, as he pulled up to an abandoned part of the harbor, she probably should have guessed.

They climbed out of the Compact and stood there, breeze ruffling their hair and the moonlight shining on the water. It should be a peaceful moment, but the smell of motor oil dripping from the Ducati ruined it.

“Tell me why this bike’s different?” Steph was so incredibly curious. Jason was not one to hide something to spare Bruce’s feelings.

Jason had his hands shoved in his pockets. They were both fully in uniform, though Jason was down to a domino mask. For some reason, Steph thought it was easier to share personal things while in uniform; it somehow seemed divorced from real life. Though for Jason the uniform seemed to be real life. He stared out at the water for a few more minutes, then finally said, “I had a picture of that bike on my wall when I was a kid. Like, before things really went to shit, I ripped a picture out of a magazine at the fuckin’ library, and snuck it home in my backpack. I didn’t know it was some rare thing, I just liked the color.”

“You do like your reds,” Steph said, for lack of anything better.

His mouth quirked up. “You sure you wanna go there, Purple Rain?”

She bumped her shoulder up against his-- well, against his arm, but the thought was there. “So you had a picture of a motorcycle on your wall. Very weird. Almost unseemly, for a boy to have an illicit picture of a motorcycle--”

“Wow, you just don’t stop ever, do you,” Jason said. His mouth quirked up, and then he glanced back at the bike. “Anyway. After Bruce took me in, I kept pestering him about getting me one, even though they were stupid expensive and impossible to find, because of there being only a handful in existence.”

“And obviously he got it for you,” Steph said, rolling her eyes, because Bruce could be called a lot of things, but stingy wasn’t one of them.

Jason shook his head. “Nope. I mean -- I guess, but not as a present. I guess he bought it symbolically for my sweet sixteen. Probably drove it to my grave, the melodramatic bastard.”

Steph opened her mouth and shut it again a few times, and then turned to stare again at the wreckage of the bike. “I mean-- wow. So he didn’t think to give it to you once, you know, you rejoined the world of the living?”

“I don’t know if you remember but things weren’t awesome between us then,” Jason said, a little testily.

“I mean, if you want to play that game, I don’t, actually, given that I was having my own post-death world travels at that time,” Steph replied in exactly the same tone.

Jason’s mouth tightened, then he let out a sharp bark of laughter. “I kind of forgot about that.”

“Well, I don’t bring it up in every conversation I have, so….” Steph nobly managed to not stick her tongue out at him.

“You’re a saint. And no, he did not give it to me once I came back,” Jason said, bringing the conversation back to the salient point. “I found it in the garage covered in a freaking tarp, and sometimes I borrow it.”

“Without permission, I assume.”

Jason nodded. “He’s never shown any indication that he noticed. Which, you know, for Bruce…”

“Is a miracle in and of itself.” Steph nodded back at him. “So basically -- Bruce bought you your dream bike when you were dead and you’re cranky because he didn’t actually give it to you, so you keep stealing it hoping he’ll notice.”

“When you put it like that, it sounds stupid,” Jason said.

Steph stared at him, hoping he’d get the point.

“It isn’t stupid,” he insisted.

“You’re all stupid,” Steph said. “So now you want to throw it in the harbor instead of just… letting Bruce know that you have been taking it? Nevermind that obviously he knows you’ve been taking it. I mean. Do you fill it up with gas every time? I bet not, and I bet it’s always full when you pick it back up.”

She absolutely was not speaking from experience with her own personal favorites of Bruce’s ridiculously awesome car collection.

“I--” Jason began, but then shrugged. “Shit.”

Steph surveyed the harbor again, then looked back at the wreckage. “You know, this is one way to deal with this, but… what if there’s a better way.”

Jason drummed his fingers on his thigh, clearly weighing her earlier words, then said, “I’m listening.”

Four hours later, they stood side by side again, this time in the Cave.

“Okay,” Jason said slowly. “Okay, I’ll say it. You are an evil genius and I adore you.”

Steph fluffled her hair cheerfully. “Glad to hear it.”

“This is-- I mean, I thought I was the best at getting under Bruce’s skin, but this is going to make him go ballistic.”

Steph rolled her eyes. “The point is not to make Bruce go ballistic. That’s just a happy little bonus.”

They were standing in front of Jason’s memorial case, which until very recently had held only his Robin uniform.

Steph had to say, the a good soldier plaque now felt far less serious, given that it was now describing the mangled remains of a motorcycle that had died in the line of duty. She even found a sharpie and added to the plaque, in the most cutesy handwriting she could manage so that it now read JASON TODD’s dream bike.

“It’s perfect,” Jason breathed. Steph had been unsure about what to do with the uniform that had been inside, but Jason had lovingly pulled it over the handlebars until the Ducati had become, in death, an honorary Robin. “I won’t forget this.”

Steph rolled her eyes. “That’s the whole idea, y’know. It’s a memorial. For memory-keeping.”

But then she reached over and took Jason’s hand in hers, tangling their fingers together and squeezing. “Sorry your bike died while you were helping me.”

Logically, Gotham’s poor infrastructure wasn’t her fault, but if she hadn’t needed an assist, Jason would still have his beloved bike. Well. Kind of. Would still be regularly stealing his beloved bike from his emotionally inept father, because they were both stubborn idiots.

Jason kept holding her hand, leaning in until their sides were touching. “At least it went in a blaze of glory.”

“And now it’s gonna live on forever in our hearts,” Steph said. She pulled up their joined hands and pressed a kiss onto Jason’s knuckle, ignoring the way he startled at the soft touch and focusing on the little smile he gave her. “Wanna hide in the dinosaur and watch Bruce’s reaction when he notices?”

“Abso-fucking-lutely.”

#my fic #batfam #stephanie brown #jason todd #jaysteph #dcu fic #even robins #this is totally unedited sorry for mistakes #meowlerex

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itawonka-creates · 4 years ago

Text

This Jewelry Will End Up Killing Me - Chapter 3

[Prologue] [Ch2] [Ch 4]

Damian didn’t know what mask he should put on. Servants rushed behind him, answering every request and whim that the residents of the manor threw at them. If this was a business dinner, he’d normally stay quiet and ignore the jargon thrown about the room. If this was a dinner with the titans, he’d do much of the same to avoid a headache and only talk when addressed. In both cases, even if he was cold they wouldn’t be able to kick him out.

Looking around, he found an odd mix of both cases. Lord Bourgeois had his own guest, sitting at the far end of the long table discussing taxes and laws. Papers were scattered around their dishes as they ate and talked to each other. However, on his end, it was more so reminiscent of the tower. Alya and Nino were clearly becoming somewhat inebriated by the wine. Marinette and Adrien were doing their best to keep them under control. Chloe was sitting in the middle, not appearing to be part of either world.

He wanted to make a good impression if only to lengthen his stay while he figures out his next step. Damian wasn’t the personable type, but staying quiet would likely sour his image with the family. While trying to decide which group was easiest to approach, he overheard Lord Bourgeois. “-ising the taxes would be beneficial to the growth of the economy.” Considering the bakery had a fair amount of customers when they dropped off their clothes, he couldn’t imagine that the debt came from lack of business.

“Sir, with all due respect the people are restless with the taxes as it is.”

“The people have to understand that the Demon King’s terrorism costs the city thousands in repair costs. Adventurers and travelers only bring in so much income. What we need is-”

“Have you tried looking at the current budget?”

Both men looked up at Damian who simply shrugged, “Perhaps looking at the current budget would shine some light on current liable expenses.”

The man looked at Lord Bourgeois and pointed at Damian, “Who’s this?”

Bourgeois narrowed his eyes, “As far as we know, a young lord from a land called Gotham.”

“Never heard of it.”

Damian sighed and set down his fork, “Do you have a copy of your town’s current expenses? I can help look them over.”

The man looked at Bourgeois for permission and Bourgeois nodded, “Go ahead, Roger.” Roger gathered the papers and handed them over to Damian. Damian shuffled through them, looking at its contents and humming. Roger chuckled, “It can be complex. You know, you can hand those back t-”

“It’s true that travelers and adventures, the number of places they could spend their money is severely limited. There are only one or two blacksmiths and weapons dealers. You have a grand market of clothing and food, that’s not enough to make a sustainable profit. You need an attraction or a larger variety of goods. If you choose the second option, then you’d need to make sure there are fair prices on all wares, but you can allow higher prices on rare goods you can only find within the city or surrounding area.”

Damian seemed almost bored as he continued to shuffle through the reports, “Expenses on the city’s infrastructure is significantly high. Someone is skimming revenue from the taxes meant for rebuilding. This amount of Tikki should be enough to sustain a village, so you’re overtaxing your people and being scammed.” Damian handed Roger back the papers and waved his hand dismissively, “Just look at your city’s council members and see if any of them have recently made any big purchases. You’ll catch them.”

Both men simply blinked, disbelief written on their faces as Roger looked over at Lord Bourgeois. “What do you think?”

Bourgeois seemed to be embarrassed at the whole thing as he forcefully coughed in a feeble attempt to clear the tension. “Yes, well, Roger see to it that you investigate this matter at once. If anyone is taking advantage of the people’s hard work they must be severely punished.”

Roger wiped the corners of his mouth and saluted, “Right. Thank you for the dinner, sir.”

Roger scurried off and Lord Bourgeois narrowed his eyes at Damian, “So where did you-”

“My family has trained me to be proficient in various skills and trades. Economics is child’s play.”

Bourgeois hummed, seemingly satisfied with the answer before resuming eating. “Well, thank you for your input, Damian.”

Damian shrugged and finished the last bite of his meal, “It was nothing.”

Chloe scoffed and mumbled, “Sure it wasn’t.”

Adrien took notice of Chloe’s cold shoulder and peeled himself away from Nino, “Hey, Chloe-”

Chloe shied away from his reach and she sighed, “I’m exhausted. I’m going to my room.” Chloe looked up at a nearby servant and grabbed his arm, “Make sure our guests are treated well.” The servant nodded and she excused herself. Lord Bourgeois tried to call his daughter over for a kiss goodnight but was ignored as she left the dining hall.

Adrien went back to Nino and positioned himself where he could stabilize Nino as he stood up. “I think we’re all done with dinner for tonight. It was lovely.” He grunted as Nino pushed all his weight onto his friend, chuckling and slurring his little comments. “Yeah, I know Nino. You’re going to hate yourself tomorrow.”

“Damian? A little help?” He looked over and watched as Marinette struggled to stand up straight with Alya leaning on her. Damian rolled his eyes and threw Alya’s arms over his shoulder. Marinette smiled in relief and looked to Adrien, “Where are we putting them? Alya will probably just fall asleep.”

Adrien motioned for them to follow as he led them out of the dining room with a quick thank to Lord Bourgeois. Adrien walked down a few corridors and up some stairs, much to their friends’ dismay. Damian noted how antique everything seemed to be and how quiet it seemed. Adrien stopped in front of a door and opened it, “We can leave them here.” Marinette and Damian nodded as they unceremoniously dropped Alya onto the bed. Adrien brought next over and laid him down next to her before bringing up a blanket. “Why does it always end up like this?”

“Because they’re Alya and Nino.” The comment must’ve slipped out her mouth because Marinette froze and looked up to gauge Adrien’s reaction. Adrien laughed, putting a hand over his mouth to muffle the noise, and Marinette relaxed.

Damian rolled his eyes and headed towards the door, “Where are we sleeping?”

“Right!” Adrien ran over and out of the room, Marinette close behind. Adrien looked around the hall and walked over to another door. “This room can be Marinette’s and the room next door can be Damian’s. The restroom is down has a silver knob at the end of the hall.” Adrien unlocked both doors and smiled, “Breakfast will be waiting for us in the morning. Chloe and I sleep in the other wing. If you need anything, ask one of the servants.”

Damian didn’t hesitate to head into his room. He was too tired to watch Marinette try to say goodnight to the guy. Instead, he sat on his bed and looked around. An average size room with a large bed and dresser. The window had a small balcony that overlooked the courtyard. Damian stretched and laid down. “Tikki?”

The small goddess came out from within one of his belt’s compartments and hovered over him. “Yes?”

“What’s my next move? My weapons work against the creatures of this world. Even without magic, I was able to destroy those frogs.”

“You need to find my wielder.”

“Right. Is it Chloe?”

Tikki hummed and landed on his chest, “She has strong spiritual energy, but I’m still hesitant to say it’s her. My wielder is here though.”

“Alright then. Tomorrow I can convince them to go and capture more frogs. We can take the earrings for a test run.”

“Damian, you can’t just hand out the earrings to everyone. We have to be careful about this. If the public finds out that a goddess is not only among them but handing out power would cause too much of a commotion.” Tikki patted Damian’s chest, “I’m sure they’re here, though.”

Damian thought for a moment before asking, “Is that what happened with Nooroo?”

Tikki sighed, “He was too sweet, too generous. I believe he was tricked into his servitude.”

“What about the other deities?”

“The only other god to come and directly interfere with this world was Plagg.”

Damian looked down at the little creature and realized it looked vaguely like a ladybug. He absent-mindedly reached out to her and pet her head. Tikki didn’t seem too bothered. “Plagg?”

Tikki scowled, “Yes. I am considered the goddess of creation, he is the god of destruction.”

“Ah.”

“Plagg should’ve been the one to greet you. I took his post after he was reprimanded for causing too much mischief in your world.”

“Like?”

“Leaning Tower of Pizza. The lost city of Atlantis. Dinosaurs.”

“You’re joking.”

Tikki groaned, “I wish I was. We voted to temporarily relieve him of his post but he never returned.” Tikki’s face morphed from frustration to concern, “I don’t think he’s in any trouble but when he didn’t come back I worried. He’s not known for laying low for so long.”

Damian paused for a moment before saying, “You are a lot more human than I thought.”

Tikki was about to say something before perking up and looking around. Damian wanted to ask a question, but Tikki darted to the window. “Damian, come over here.” Damian got up and walked over to the window. He noticed that all the windows had small balconies, it was very uniform, but what stood out was a bright green light that moved through the trees.

Looking closer, he noticed that the green light actually looked more like a pair of eyes. Damian asked Tikki, “Is that normal?”

Tikki shook her head, “No. It’s not. It may be magic, but those eyes are too abnormal.” Damian sighed and walked around to the drawer, “Damian?”

“They haven’t finished washing my things yet. They have my weapons.” Damian roughly shut the dresser and looked around, “If someone is lurking around the grounds of a wealthy family then either they’re here to steal or here to kill.” His eyes landed on the nearby vanity and he grabbed the letter opener, “This will have to do.”

“Damian, that’s not even sharp.”

“It doesn’t need to be sharp for me to hurt someone with it.” It was shiny, new, pointed end but that was about all. It was too light. He wouldn’t be able to do much with it, but there were a few options. Damian looked back out the window and noticed the eyes coming closer. The little red fairy’s gaze only grew in intensity, “Tikki-”

“I know this energy.” Tikki fluttered about, trying to figure out the best course of action, before going back to the same spot, “I know this energy!”

“That’s good?”

“Depends.”

“On?”

“The person.” The two watched as a figure lurked out of the shadows and into the moon’s spotlight. It was cat-like and much too modern, reminding him of Selina’s costume back home.

Home. He wondered what his father was doing now.

“Tikki, that looks like a uniform from my world.”

Tikki nodded before turning to him, “Do you have the earrings?”

“I couldn’t exactly let the staff take them with all my other gear.”

“No! No, I’m not chastising you.” She looked at the man strutting through the courtyard and shook her head, “In fact, I’d be happy for you to try them out. All you have to do is say spots on.”

Damian was taken aback, Tikki always insisted that the only person using the earring should be the chosen descendent. If she was asking him to try them on now, this could mean trouble. “Let’s be sure we know what we’re up against before we jump to our last resort.”

Tikki nodded, but before she could respond she retreated behind Damian. He looked out the window and noticed the man use a staff that extended to an unnatural length, bringing him up to the window next door. “Shit.” Tikki latched onto Damian’s collar as Damian stormed out of the room. Damian was quiet for a moment, tuning his ear to any little noises he could hear through the door. He heard a light tapping and, despite her better judgment, he heard footsteps. Damian mumbled to himself, “She has no sense of self-preservation, does she?”

Muffled voices could be heard, but nothing he could make out. Tikki flew forward and through the wood. Damian heard a soft click, but with the sudden silence in the room, he’s sure the man heard it too. Damian stood back and Tikki flew behind him. Damian was about to ask a question when the door swung open. Marinette rubbed her eyes, “Damian?”

Damian hid the letter opener and peered over her shoulder, “I heard something-”

Marinette yawned, “What? Is this a full moon or something? First Cat Noir-”

“Cat Noir?”

The green eyes suddenly came into view and he stepped out of the shadows and into the hall’s light. The mop of blond hair was a stark contrast against the black leather and he smirked. Crossing his arms and motioning to Damian, Cat Noir said, “At your service. So, princess, I thought I was your only dark knight. Who’s this?”

Marinette was not amused, “Damian, meet Cat Noir. Cat Noir, meet Damian Wayne.”

Damian didn’t know what to make of him, but Marinette’s calm demeanor threw him off. Damian held out his free hand, “Nice to meet you.”

Cat Noir took it and the ring on his finger glistened, “Likewise. How do you know Marinette?”

“We only recently met.”

“Really? And yet you were about to barge into her room unannounced at night?”

Damian’s eye twitched, “I wouldn’t have felt the need to check up on her if someone wasn’t stalking the grounds.”

Cat Noir wrapped his arms around Marinette’s shoulders, “I was not stalking. I was checking in on Marinette. It’s been a while.”

“A while? You were gone for several weeks.” Marinette shook herself free of his grip and stepped towards Damian, “Cat Noir, couldn’t you visit me in the day time?”

“Now where’s the fun in that?”

Damian couldn’t keep his eye off the ring, “Where’d you get that?”

Cat Noir looked at the ring skeptically, “A gift. Why?”

“I’ve never seen a ring glow like that before. Is it enchanted or something?”

Cat Noir drew his hand back, “It’s one of a kind.”

“Right.”

Marinette frowned as she looked between the two, “Is this some weird dominance thing or-” Her sentence trailed off as she stared at something behind Damian’s shoulder. He turned and noticed Tikki poking her head out. Tikki’s eyes were trained on the ring, she didn’t even realize she was caught. Damian looked back at the two and noted their reactions; Cat Noir seemed frozen while Marinette was ready to shriek.

Damian quickly covered her mouth and shushed her, “Stop. Stop. Calm down.”

Marinette looked frantically at Damian for answers he didn’t have. Cat Noir snapped out of it and grabbed Damian’s arm, “Hands off!”

Marinette jumped away, “Bug! Mouse? Bug mouse!”

“It’s not a ‘bug mouse’! It’s a-”

“Kwami.”

Tikki finally seemed to snap out of it and glared at Cat Noir, “How do you know that word? Humans should not know that word!”

Cat Noir stepped away and grabbed his staff, taking a defensive stance. He looked over at Damian and Marinette and nodded his head, “Marinette, get behind me!”

“What?”

The look in Cat Noir’s eye was desperate, panicked, full of anger and pain. Take out the fear and it would’ve been eerily similar to the way Damian looked at his enemies after Rah’s al Gul died. Vengeance, fear, and a hint of sorrow; a dangerous combination. “Can’t you see he’s dangerous?! Only the Demon King has a kwami! He must be working for them!”

Marinette shook her head, “What are you talking about, Cat Noir?”

Cat Noir shook his head, “I’m not letting this happen again!” He extended his staff and swung it around. Objects and decorations shattered and Damian grabbed Marinette before throwing them against the ground.

Damian looked up, “Are you insane?!” His staff retreated into itself, going back to normal size before he tried to smack it down on Damian. Damian rolled himself and Marinette out of the way before grabbing her arm and pulling her onto her feet. “C’mon!”

“Wait, but Cat Noir-”

“Is trying to hurt us! Move!” He pushed Marinette’s head down as they ducked under another attack. Damian pulled them both out of the room and quickly shoved her into his own. He locked the door behind him. He looked around for any exit routes and noticed the window. He cursed under his breath and pulled Marinette to his chest as he turned around. He took the brunt of the impact when Cat Noir busted through the window. The glass shattered around them and the action knocked them both down. He wasn’t even able to take in the damage when he was suddenly pulled off of Marinette.

Damian was thrown against the wall and grunted as Cat Noir held him up by his collar. The strength was unnatural. “I’m not going to let you hurt her!”

Damian glared at the cat, “You’re the only one doing damage!” He lifted his legs and wrapped them around Cat Noir’s arm before twisting his body and throwing them both to the floor. “Calm down!”

Cat Noir grit his teeth as he struggled against Damian. Cat Noir managed to break free and elbowed Damian in the stomach. With the wind knocked out of him, he wasn’t able to react fast enough. Cat Noir was on top of him, “Cataclysm!” Suddenly a surge of dark energy surrounded his palm as he held it overhead. “You won’t hurt my friends!”

Damian struggled against his grip, “Tikki!”

Cat Noir brought his hand down and Damian braced for the impact. However, it never came. He looked up and noticed Marinette holding a now corroding vase. The vase’s ashes scattered over Damian and there was a sudden beeping coming from his ring. Marinette’s hands shook once the vase was completely gone and she pushed Cat Noir off of Damian.

“Marinette-”

“Stop!” Marinette’s voice flattered, but her conviction was clear, “Just stop.”

Damian sat up and looked at Cat Noir to gauge his reaction. It was shock, “He’s a threat!”

“You’re the only threat here, Cat Noir!”

“He has a kwami!”

“And so do you!” The red goddess flew up to his face and her gaze was unwavering, “De-transform.”

“What?”

“De-transform now!” Looked down at the ring as it beeped and another piece of the paw print disappeared. “Three minutes. I’ll have my chosen follow you. I will see him either way. De-transform.”

Cat Noir looked behind the red goddess and noted how much of Marinette’s attention was on Damian as she helped him up. She wasn’t even looking at him. Cat Noir shook his head, “Not unless she leaves.”

“What?”

“Not unless-”

“I’m staying right here!” Marinette wrapped her arm underneath Damian’s and stabilized him. She looked back up at Cat Noir and stood her ground, “I’m staying here. I was going to find out sooner or later. Just do it.”

Damian looked between the two before settling on Cat Noir. He watched all of Cat Noir’s resolve die out as his ally stood against him. Cat Noir’s ears drooped and he gulped, “Cla-Claws in.” A green light enveloped him and once their eyes adjusted Marinette gasped loudly.

Adrien shuffled his feet and looked to the ground as a cat creature flew beside him. Tikki didn’t react at first, but the cat was clearly at her mercy. It chuckled nervously, “H-Hey, sugar cube.”

Tikki blinked before asking Damian a question. Her monotone voice made it all the more intimidating, “Where are the earrings?”

With the threat gone Damian could only ask, “Why?”

“Either you put me in the earrings or I kill this cat!” She charged at the other creature and gave chase. Anything that wasn’t knocked over was suddenly smashed on the floor as the two flew around the room.

However, in the wake of the destruction, none of the humans moved. Adrien kept his head down, he was shaking his head and mumbling to himself. He seemed to be in a bit of shock himself as he fidgeted. Marinette, on the other hand, was ridged. Damian was the first to reach out, “Adrien-”

“Hello!” The new voice caught all of them off guard. Damian shoved Adrien behind the bed and ran to the door. He opened it a crack, noticing one of the manor’s servants about to knock. “Oh!”

“Can I help you?”

“There seems to be a commotion-”

“I didn’t hear anything.”

“But, sir, the crashes-”

“Your greeting was the only thing that woke me up tonight.”

The servant grew flustered, “I’m sorry. I’ll check on the miss next door.”

“No need!” Marinette ducked under Damian’s arm and looked up at the man. “I’m right here. I didn’t hear anything either.” Marinette smiled, although it was clearly forced.

The servant looked between the two and flushed, “Oh! Oh. Well, I’m sure you two didn’t hear a thing. I’ll be sure to let the staff know to give you two privacy.”

“Excuse me?”

“Nothing! Nothing! Have a good night!” The servant quickly left their sight.

Damian closed the door once the man was out of earshot and sighed, “Well, not the best excuse but it’ll give us some privacy.”

“What do you mean?”

Damian shook his head and guided her back towards the center of the room, “I’m not having this conversation with you. Let’s focus on one thing right now.”

Marinette looked at the bit of blond hair poking out from behind the bed, “Right.”

Tikki flew back over to Damian’s side, dragging her cat counterpart by the ear beside her. “Remember the old god of your world?”

“Plagg?”

She shoved the cat in front of her, “The one and only.”

Plagg rubbed his ears, “I expected a warmer welcome!”

“I expected you to return to your post! Where have you been?”

Plagg rolled his eyes and flew over to Adrien, “I found my chosen. It seems that the Demon King made this boy an orphan. He was still young when he survived the attack, but he wants to take the Demon King down. He’s a good kid!”

Tikki growled, “You did this without consulting anyone!”

“You’re down here too!”

“Yes, but I didn’t leave my post! You have been missing for well over three years!”

Plagg waved his hand nonchalantly, “That’s like a day for us up there.”

Tikki growled and looked as though she was about to charge when Damian stepped in, “Woah! Woah! We don’t need two of you fighting here. Adrien stand up.” Adrien nodded and left his little hiding space, “Adrien, look up.” Adrien hesitated but did so. Damian looked him over and shook his head, “What are you getting yourself into?”

“Plagg came to me a few years ago. I’ve been moonlighting as Cat Noir since. Gathering information, fighting monsters. Getting stronger.” Adrien’s voice cracked, “I’m sorry, I just-”

Damian closed the gap between them and placed a hand on Adrien’s shoulder, “Adrien, I’m going to tell you something my father told me. Justice, not vengeance. If Marinette didn’t step in, you would’ve taken it too far.”

Adrien opened his mouth to say something but instead shook his head and covered his face. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

Marinette bit her lip and stepped up. She cautiously reached out before running her fingers through his hair. She frowned and licked her lips, “Hey kitty, it’s okay. It’s okay now.” She gently shushed him as his shoulders shook, “It’s okay. We’re all okay.” Marinette looked up at Damian as if to ask if things really were okay. He didn’t give an answer. Instead, Damian looked back at Adrien and stepped forward to rub his back. Marinette took it as permission to get closer and pull Adrien into a hug. “It’s okay. It’s okay.”

Tikki stopped berating Plagg when she heard a soft sob rack through the chosen’s body. Plagg looked on with pity as Adrien worked through the guilt of almost killing someone. Damian bit his lip and looked around the room, it was a wreck and Marinette’s was even worse. Still, at least his bed was clear.

It felt like putting a kid to sleep, the two guided Adrien to bed and sat by him as Adrien let everything out. Marinette looked at Damian, surely full of questions that would have to wait until tomorrow. Even the gods sat by their side, quiet and calm. Tonight the five simply sat together, comforting their own as they worked through the destruction.

As the night went on, the room only got darker. Damian looked around and thought about his next steps. His train of thought only broken by a soft voice, “Are you awake?”

Damian looked over at Marinette. Adrien had fallen asleep beside her. Damian helped her lay him down without waking him. Marinette pushed some hair out of his face and whispered, “I don’t know what to think right now.”

Damian was almost surprised at the gesture. Hours ago she would’ve fainted at the thought of him being so close. Now, she was acting so familiar. “What’s going through your head?”

She shrugged, “I’ve known Cat Noir for a few years now. He’s someone I can count on.”

“So this is a shock.”

“That’s one way to put it.” Damian watched as she ran her fingers through his hair, putting him at ease and making her smile. “So we have gods among us?”

“Yes.”

“I have so many questions.”

“I expect you to, but it’d be best if we got a bit of sleep.” She nodded and laid onto her side. She continued playing with Adrien’s hair in the same way he would play with Ace’s back home. As he laid down on Adrien’s other side, he wondered how all of his pets were doing. Did they know he was dead?

Marinette looked over at Damian, “I’ve never seen him like this; as Adrien or Cat Noir.”

“Trauma can do that to you.”

“Trauma?” She hummed, “People always talk about the Demon King, but I’ve never had to deal with him.” She shook her head, “I don’t know anything, do I?”

Damian shrugged, “You’ve been sheltered. I’m not surprised.”

Marinette bit her lip, “I don’t want to be anymore. I want to fight. My friends shouldn’t have to deal with this.”

Damian turned onto his back and looked around the bed. He noticed Tikki and Plagg already asleep. He felt something poke him and remembered the earrings still with him. He looked back to Marinette, “You want to fight with me?” Marinette nodded and he handed her the earrings, “Put these on. We’ll train tomorrow.”

Marinette reached out tentatively, but quickly put them on once they were in her hands. She turned back to Damian, “Is it bad that I’m terrified? Especially after tonight?”

Damian sighed, “It’d be bad if you weren’t.”

“Aren’t you?”

Damian closed his eyes, “No.”

*******************************************************************************************

Tag List:

@maribat-is-lifeblood @wannajointhecrabcult @animegirlweeb @jeminiikrystal @tbehartoo @moonlightstar64 @clumsy-owl-4178

If you would like to be added or I missed you, please comment!

#TJWEUKM #konosuba au #fanfiction #au #damianette #damimari #daminette #maridami #damian x marinette #fantasy #crossover fic #miraculous x dc #dc x mlb #maribat #marinette x damian #this is supposed to be a comedy #what happened #this is slowly just becoming my own story

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xllxxrbxg · 3 years ago

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so ayon nga hehe

so ayon nga mga marecakes hehe narrate ko na lang nangyari today.

so i was like chilling today right im all set for school because i did my homeworks naman days before it was needed so i was like, "aight lets get this shit today". tapos karlo message me he wanted cuddles eh i was like hMMM... we just made out the other day eh and its like tuesday palang today !! i told him nalang na make it happen, not rlly thinking he would make it happen. but this mf took it as a challenge and actually made it happen.

before all that tho i was badtrip because ha made a very uncalled for rape joke and it fucked me up in the head, plus the fact na im being taken to someplace unfamiliar. i was very tensed the whole ride there. anw he didnt get the hint na it was THAT awful to me, but its aight we resolvedt it already. i'll keep a tab on this tho. for me that was a red flag.

anyways we made out in this tambayan place their family owns. basically it has a large parking lot and across that space was this little studio type housie house. the place had a large ass gate, wasnt really paying attention to what he was saying about the place because i was still tensed with the bad joke he made. anyways we went in and it was a very nice place. outside the house, it wasnt that obvious, but when you go in, it legit looked like one of those sala sets in malls with the note "thank you for not sitting" typa shit. so yeah it was nice it had same vibes with vista mall maybe because of the ceiling yellow scattered lights and of the fresh ass furniture and the whole place itself. it was a pretty decent size, not too big not too small for at least two people to share in the long run. it also had this aircon i always wanted the expensive ones u see in 5 stars. anyways it was quickly cold. there was also the bathroom that had a shower, then theres this chair where you pull a button and a foot rest will pop up lmfao. there were also two other sofa charis by the window. the window was the type then you push back up, not much windows tbh. but thats aight and reasonable since it has an aircon. i was tensed at first when the room was opened. it was obviously recently used idk maybe by his relative. WAS TENSED BRO same feeling when you enter an empty room newly unlocked by your teacher. THAT. that typa anxiety. anyways eventually joined him to sit by the small bed. was pretty much good for one big ass person to comfortably lie on, but fitted both of us nicely. didn't really bottom at that sesh so i don't really remember if the bed was uratex when weight is applied on me but it probably is AHSHDHASHDHSAHDSAHAH ok mej funny yun goiz liek- HAHA ok serious na nga hmpz. we cuddled first before doing nasty stuff. it was nice. i'd exchange all those laplapan just to wholesomely cuddle in peace and probably have a great nap together. i like the feeling the warm feeling. it was nice. yes. anyways,, yeah it was nice. cant stop talking about how nice it was because it was nice. heck... it was so nice. it was so heart heart. idc about my coochie getting rubbed, CUDDLE ME BITCH. anyways we started kissing and the rest is historyYYYYYY. jk. basically the make out routine starts with cuddling then kissing then he touches me until it reacher the forbidden softie softie, main bec he likes hearing my sexy ass moan. even before in tinder when i vm my boytoys for the first time the first thing they say my voice is smexy. cant blame them i agree. even when im alone and i randomly fake moan gat dam bro i get turned on too LMFAO. so yeah i moaned bec it was music to his ears and turned him on big time. was ngl kinda steamy when we breathe in each others mouth thats one of my favorite parts of it and also when i suck on his tongue. or also when i moan into his mouth. yep. also when he cusses it means im doing a great job. hehe. nice stuff ryt there. we pause sometimes to rest, then go aead again. i got many rounds that day. we did same stuff on the bed several times. then he pulled me so i'd be on top. im such a great top bro he aint know hoe to topppp. then was cuddling on top of him and then accidentally (wink wink) grinded on his rock solid stuff. he was turned on sabi nya shit anuyon sabi ka ah ayaw mo ok BUT THEN he was like gusto ko. tnagina pabebe yarn. anw i started kissing then grinding and he was cussing bec im so good at it. later my pants were off and later his shorts too. so we were underwear-away from grinding on directly. was nice got me tiredt. THEN HAHAH i saw this 5 peso coin by the bed and i was like eto yung token sa rides AHSDHASHDASHDHA WOF YAN TEH? tangina tawang tawa sya gago ang funny ko tlg san ka makakakuha ng kallapan na funny. tas nilagay ko sa gilid nya singko started grinding again. bet u he was grinding too. AND IT WAS SO HARD IT LOWKEY HURT TO GRIND ON. GEEZAS. so basically the whole bed was shaking. and i did my deed as a good girl to keep the music on (aka moaning) because there was no music. felt like

asmr. boring af. unlike when we make out sa car, theres always music. i like making out on the white chev instead of the fortuner BECAUSE THE FORTUNERS WINDOWS AIN TINTED what in the world was i thinking making out inside an untinted car INSIDE A PARK WHERE THERE ARE LOTSA PPL PASSING BY. anyways back to the bed, we paused, cuddled. then i was badtrip again for some reason so i got up to get dressed but we eventually made out again on the sofa hehe. legs spread again bec he liked touching there so i let him. then eventually was begging me to allow him to eat me out but i was like BROOOO NOOOO you gon taste it and it be not groomed yet in anyway but he was alr there begging looool he looked so adorbs but NOOO. i asked wala ka man benefit jan, sabi nya ikaw meron. tas sabi ko why do u wanna do it, he said he wasnted to satify me liek HNGGGGGG ok i would let you but it really not be groomed oakay NEXT TIME for sure. AND HECK the lights were on. it was daylight and the lights were on like hasdhahsdhashdas it feels liek im being eaten out at the home decor station at vista mall U GUYZ. anyways ayon. after non i think he tried carrying me for some reason. and i knew he found me heavy lols. but yeah i was a cute little moment he carried me around the room pretending its a mall and he's touring me and shit, "to your left, is the sala set, to your right is the flat screen tv..." things like that HAHAHA funny cute moment. anw later on we found ourselves sitting on the little bed again i was on top of him. he didnt want to lay down bec he alrady made the bed lol so we started grinding again sitting, me on top doing my best !! giving my all !! bec he also had a finger down there as i grinded on his stuff so it basically felt like a direct grind lols. anyways was nice. then later on we made out standing up. was kinda hard because he was 7 inches taller. OH AKALA NYO TITE SIZE YUNG 7 INCHES NOH. hinde. so ayon we were making out and he was shy to ask for a deep throat HAHSDHAHDHAS HECK NAW BITCH U TOLD ME A RAPE JOKE. so this is the part where i get revenge. he was standing there, and i was teasing him. was acting clueless, but he hinted he wanted his belt off so i took it off. was honestly confused with the belt. lol. anw i got to remove it and said, so ano next? playfully hhehhehehe. anyways ayon nga eventually me teased him everrr soooo slowly his dick went from solid-jelly-solid-jelly. LMFAO omfg will i cause him illness? omg. anwwww ayon. later on i removed his shorts as he asked. then i stepped aaway from him across the room because he was doing the shy type hands while hsis shorts was by his foot. and i LOL'd at him for a good few minutes just clapping my hands out of entertainment HAHSDHAHSDAS. then he asked me to put my hands inside, did it slowly and i told him to smile ka nga muna. AND HA THE MF WAS SHAKING. LOL. my fucking powerrrrrrr. anyways later on i was teasing out the underwear, then later i got my hands in again and then touchedt the dick *YAY* finally we got there!! anw it was only for a few secs and i told him its over HAHAHA. then i put his shorts back up again, but subtly teasing that i would suck. bec the shorts were by his ankles so i had to kneel. did i suck? no. did i make sure he thought i was? YES BITCH. and then he lay down fretting because i didnt suck his dick and then while was laying down i opened his shorts again to pretend that his dick was a computer mouse and told him "lets play solitaire, o kaya counterstrike or maybe purble place. gawa ng cake hehe" lmfao mfer be cry laughing because he dont know what to do bec he was teased. so ayon we ended that way and i thought he was bad trip bec of what i did. but he assured me na di naman like dapat lang duh. anyways ayon hehe.

uwi na kami after nakauwi ako 1. andon kami 10. hehe. hinatid nya man me pauwi. tho yung byahe pauwi di pa kami nakakalayo sa place he pulled over so i was confused bec there were no big vehicles incoming but to my surpris he started kissimg me again lol bro deins ka ba nasasawa. anw yon. was nice naman. making out with a guy from a rich fam is nice bec yall dont need to pay to rent in motels lol but still has pressure, bec if we end on a bad note, i swear most of the blgs here are engineered by his relatives. thats how prominent they are. the place we went to is owned by his uncle, who works at legazpi rn thats why the place was vacant. theyre making a mall i think idk. so thats why his uncle is making another like that na place dun. so he has somewhere to stay. like what in the wealth... its crazy how people have money. and for sure even if the place we stayed in was small, it costs millions fr. anyways ayun yung promised detailed chika ko. hehe ciao. mej pokpok nga me pero look at me suffering the consequences, may sipon na ako aside sa ubo because he had mild sipon. now my sipon is malala compared to his, and he alr is recoveredt tangina unfair. but yesterday he insisted to see me to drop off some meds and he hugeed me and cried. because i asked for a time out the night before. bec i was having a hard time. he allowed it but over thinkedt it so yeah he cried while hugging me tight in the car. and kept on saying sorry mainly bec of the sipon thing. but it was, i felt, directed to the other stuff he had disappointed me with. anyways before that sabi nya ok lang ba sayo mag punta munang emall may bibilhin lang, sabi ko naur im sick. it was bec he wanted to buy me gummy worms lol. cute. u shoulda bought them before going to me, mofo. jk. loveee u penggg.

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positivlyfocused · 4 years ago

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How I Easily Created An Awesome Job-Free Life

This is part three of a three part series on how I created a life where I no longer have to work a job. It began when my wife gave me an ultimatum. What came after that was a wonderful unfolding culminating in where I am today: no longer working a job, money coming in easily with little effort on my part and a life filled with joyful moments of clarity, peace, and joy.

In this post I’m going to describe what happened after starting work at the bridging job I created. I described how I created that job in part two.

A job let me live job-free

I went to work for this company. It was a wonderful time where I explored working for a very large successful Corporation again after working at Intel many years ago. This job was much more manual labor focused. I delivered packages around town in a truck.

I enjoyed this work. And I enjoyed working with people who typically take these kinds of jobs. I worked mostly in white-collar executive positions, wearing snazzy clothes in large offices. This opportunity opened my eyes to a different type of people. I had not had the opportunity to work alongside laborers, people who traded their labor for income. What I learned surprised me.

^^A picture of me at the wheel of my delivery vehicle while on my “bridging job.”

I wrote about many of these eye-opening experiences in this blog. Most fascinating is, when I look back on that job remembering how much fun I had, I also see how that job filled its purpose exactly as I designed it: as the bridging job that would take me from earning a living through a job, to having money flow easily into my life experience without working for it.

While working there, I changed old beliefs that had me tied to wanting jobs. Beliefs such as “a job says a lot about your self worth”, and, “working for a big company carries a lot of status”, and “making money says a lot about who you are”. Using the Positively Focused approach I soothed these old beliefs so the reality I wanted as my life became the life I have: one where none of these beliefs exist and I live job-free.

Happiness creates opportunity

So it was no surprise to me that shortly after the start of 2020, rumblings among the permanent staff indicated there might likely be layoffs coming. Our jobs were seasonal, but the permanent staff suggested here and there that our jobs might become permanent.

The rumors caused tremendous upset among my fellow drivers. For many, this job was all they had. Others hoped this delivery jobs were ground-floor opportunities to better, permanent jobs.

I was eager for whatever was going to happen. I knew what was going to happen would serve me best. I was not at the whim of this company: I was creating my reality. Not them.

So during my time delivering packages, I reveled in the experience. I immersed myself in the process. I figured out ways to improve and make more efficient the process. I gave that information to my manager who forwarded it to her manager. The management team was excited about what I had written. They gave me kudos for doing so.

I found myself really enjoying this work. I enjoyed the physicality of it. I enjoyed being out on my own. I enjoyed exploring parts of the city I hadn’t explored before. All in all, I enjoyed this job. I did not see it as a job, because it wasn’t a job for me. Instead it was a “bridging opportunity“ toward the reality I was creating.

Finally, just after the new year, rumors intensified that layoffs were coming. Instead of coming in the following week, I decided to take all the sick leave I accumulated. While on leave, I turned my attention toward my desires: to move through the rest of 2020 with money flowing into my life without me working a job.

The week I took off, the company terminated all seasonal driver positions. Everyone arrived at their shift and got their termination letter. My fellow drivers wrote me text messages upset about how they felt the company treated them.

They were really frustrated and annoyed and feeling disrespected that they showed up for work only to be dismissed.

Not me.

I was at home luxuriating in my bed, reveling in the future that was flowing into my life.

^^Me again in the delivery driver vehicle compound.

Then it happened

Several days later, I received a letter notifying me that I have been laid off. But that was no concern because I was enjoying my life.

That’s because, just before receiving the letter that I was laid off, A person who follows my passion project called Copiosis wrote me a message on WhatsApp. He said he wanted me to be able to put more time on that project, and was sending me cryptocurrency in an amount sufficient to pay for my living expenses for the rest of the year.

I was not expecting this specifically. The message floored me. I knew something like this would happen. I just didn’t know what the details of the happening would looked like.

You can imagine my delight upon receiving that message. But what really excited me was how much Bitcoin he gave me. True to this person’s word, the money in cryptocurrency he sent me paid my rent and living expenses for the rest of the year.

In other words, the universe coordinated the cooperative components – leaving my wife, creating a job, an apartment (which I may write about), and this easy transition to a jobless life – consistent with my desires: living without a job, and, having money come in without me having to do anything for it.

What’s interesting is, the same person gave me another cryptocurrency gift at the end of 2020. That particular gift came just as Bitcoin took off on a months-long rally. Every month thereafter, the rally increased the value of the amount he gave me by 1/3. That was enough to generate enough cash to last me throughout 2021.

Meanwhile, more Positively Focused clients came, eager to learn how to create their reality. Today my basic living expenses are covered by the cryptocurrency gift combined with the amount of money my clients gift me in return for the transformed lives they get.

Wait a minute…

You may ask: aren’t you working when you serve these clients or when you do things for Copiosis? My answer: not at all.

Because when I’m giving time to my clients, I’m Positively Focused. Being Positively Focused, especially being Positively Focused with another person, doesn’t feel at all like “working”. It’s play, it’s joyful and it’s fun.

It is filled with laughter, with epiphanies, insights and realizations, all of which lead to more and better, not only for my clients, but for me too.

Copiosis is a fun, joyful adventure. It’s not a job. I see it as a playground where I get to practice what I preach in Positively Focused.

So by serving my clients I am creating a more and better life for myself. That’s not working. That’s enjoying the reality I am creating, realities I am co-creating alongside my clients. Copiosis is like that too.

Today, as I sit in bed dictating this blog post, all my expenses, including enough for entertainment and pleasure expenses, are covered without me having to do anything that looks and feels like a “job”. I created exactly the reality that I had intended as I was leaving my wife.

I should add, that anyone can have this life. Anyone can create any reality they want. This is what I show my clients how to do. This is how life is meant to be.

We all came into the world not to mimic what other people are doing. We’re here to make real worlds of our own design matching our wildest desires.

Nothing else feels as satisfying as that. The more I live my life consistent with my wildest desires, the better I feel and the better life gets.

There’s more to come. And I’m eager for all of it.

#positive thinking #positivevibes #positivity #positiveattitude #positive affirmations #positiveapproach #spiritualcoach #spiritualgrowth #spiritualconnection #spiritualawakening #spiritualteacher #spiritualguidance #spiritualenlightenment #happiness #youcreateyourownreality

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elisabettacormac · 3 years ago

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The Gigolo by Françoise Sagan

Francoise Sagan

The Gigolo

(Des yeux de soie) 1975 / Silken Eyes and Other Stories

Translated by Joanna Kilmartin

He walked beside her along the rain-sodden paths full of dead leaves, giving her his hand now and again to guide her round a puddle. He smiled as he did so, a genuine, unforced smile. It occurred to her that this walk in the woods round Meudon would have penance for any young man, especially with a woman of her age. Not an old woman, but a bored, jaded one who walked through the woods without any real pleasure, merely because it was preferable to the cinema or a crowded bar.

Of course, for him, there had been the drive there, in the luxurious fast car which it gave him a childish pleasure to drive; but was that sufficient compensation for this interminable silent walk along these desolate autumnal paths?

'He's bored, he must bored to death.'

Strangely relishing the idea, she turned down another path, one which led them further away from the car, with a sort of dread mixed with hope - the hope that he would suddenly revolt against this boredom, lose his temper, say something wounding, unforgivable, anything that would underline the gap of twenty years between them.

But he always smiled. She had never known him irritable or rude, never seen him smirk in the ironical, condescending way of very young men who know they are desirable. The smirk which said so plainly: "All right, as a favour to you... But remember, don't irritate me." The cruel smirk of youth which had made her cold, hard and wounding, and had so often caused her to end an affair. With Michel, for instance, the first time she had noticed it, then the others...

'Careful,' he said, taking her arm, saving her from tearing her stockings or her dress, her well-cut elegant dress, on a bramble. If he should ever smirk like that, would she still be able to thrown him out like the rest of them? She didn't feel she would have the heart. Not that she respected him more than the others: she kept him completely, dressed him, gave him expensive presents which he didn’t throw back in her face. He never went in for those stupid, boorish ploys the others indulged in, those sulky moods when they wanted something or felt they were the injured party in the bargain struck between their bodies and her money - that was it, really: they felt hard done by. They would get her to buy them all manner of luxuries and expensive trinkets which they didn't even want simply in order to restore their self-esteem. The word esteem made her laugh inwardly. It was none the less the only word for it.

Perhaps Nicholas' charm lay in the fact that he really hankered after these presents; not that he demanded them, but he took such evident pleasure in receiving them that she felt like a normal woman rewarding a child instead of an ageing mistress buying a fresh young body she secretly despised. She quickly dismissed such thoughts. Thank god, she didn't go in for being maternal and protective with that bunch of grasping young men who were too handsome for their own good. Neither did she go in for disguising the facts; she was cynical and clear-headed, and they knew it and respected her for it, however grudgingly. 'You give me your body, I pay for it.' Some, piqued at not having to rebuff her, had tried to introduce a vague touch of sentimentality, perhaps in order to get a little more out of her. These she had sent to other protectresses, explaining to them exactly where they stood: 'I despise you, as I despise myself for putting up with you. I only keep you for the sake of those two hours at night.' She relegated them to the rank of animals, deliberately, without a qualm.

With Nicholas, it wasn't so simple: he brought no trace of affection, or caddishness or sentimentality to his role as gigolo. He was friendly, polite and a good lover, not very expert, perhaps, but passionate, almost tender... He stayed at home all day, lolling about on the carpet, reading anything he could lay his hands on. He didn't ask to be taken out all the time, and when they did go out he seemed to be unaware of the meaningful looks they attracted: he was as attentive and smiling as if he were escorting a young woman of his choice. In fact, apart from the condescension, the brutality with which she treated him, there was nothing to distinguish their relationship from that of an ordinary couple.

'Aren't you cold?' He glanced at her anxiously as though her health really mattered to him more than anything else in the world. She felt exasperated with him for playing his part so well, for being so nearly what she might still have hoped for then years ago; she remembered that at the time she still had her rich husband, her rich and ugly husband, whose business affairs were his sole preoccupation.

How could she have been so stupid as to have failed to take advantage of her beauty, now faded, and been unfaithful to him? she had been asleep and it had taken hr husband's death and her first night with Michel to awaken her. Everything had begun that night.

'I asked you if you were cold.'

'No, no. Anyway, it's time we went back.'

'Wouldn't you like my jacket?'

His beautiful Creed jacket... she glanced at it without interest as at some dull new possession. A russet and grey check, its autumn colours suited Nicholas thick, silky auburn hair.

'How autumnal we are,' she murmured to herself. 'Your jacket, this forest... my autumn.'

He didn't reply. She was surprised at herself because she never alluded to her age. He knew perfectly well how old she was and he didn't care. She might just as well throw herself into that lake. She imagined herself for a moment, floating in the water in her Dior dress... Thoughts like that were all very well of the young. "At my age, one doesn't think of death or suicide, one clings to life." One clings to the pleasures of money, of the night; one makes the most of things, and of people, such as this young man walking beside one down a deserted woodland path.

'Nicholas!' She said in her hoarse, imperious voice. 'Nicholas, kiss me.'

They were separated by a puddle. He looked at her for a moment before stepping over it, and the thought flashed through her mind: 'He must hate me.'

He took her in his arms and gently raised her head.

'My age,' she thought, as he kissed her. 'Just for the moment you've forgotten my age; you're too young to play with fire without getting burnt, Nicholas.'

And then she exclaimed:

'Nicholas!'

He looked at her, a little breathless, his hair rumpled.

'You were hurting me.' she said, with a faint smile.

They walked in silence. She was surprised at the quickening of her pulse. That kiss - what had come over Nicholas? - that kiss was like a farewell kiss, hungry and sad, as if he loved her. He was as free as air; women and luxuries were his for the asking. What had possessed him? And that sudden pallor... He was dangerous, extremely dangerous. They had been together over six months; it couldn't go on any longer without leading to trouble. Besides, she was tired, tired of Paris, of the noise and rush. Tomorrow she would leave for the Midi, alone.

They were back at the car. She turned to him and took his arm in an automatic gesture of pity. 'After all,' she thought, 'the poor boy's losing his livelihood. Even if it's only temporary, it's a nasty blow.'

'I'm leaving for the Midi tomorrow, Nicholas. I'm tired.'

'Will you be taking me?'

'No, Nicholas. I shan't be taking you.'

She almost wished that she was; it would have been fun showing Nicholas the sea. He must have been there before, of course, but he always gave the impression of discovering everything for the first time.

'You've had enough of me?'

He spoke softly, his eyes downcast. There was a break in his voice which touched her. She had a glimpse of the life he would have, the sordid quarrels, the compromises and the boredom, all because he was too handsome, too weak and the ideal prey for a certain kind of woman belonging to a certain milieu and with a certain income, women like, herself.

'I haven't had enough of you in the least, could it? It's over six months since we met.'

'I know...' he said, as though his mind were elsewhere. 'The first time was at that cocktail party of Mme Essini's'

She suddenly remembered that hectic party and the first glimpse she had had of Nicholas, looking miserable because old Mme Essini was talking to him at very close quarters and giggling girlishly. Nicholas was pressed up against the bar, with no hope of escape. The scene had amused her at first, then she had looked at Nicholas with increasing interest and cynical speculation. These cocktail parties were like horse fairs or cattle shows. One almost expected to see mature ladies lifting the young men's upper lips to examine their teeth.

Finally, she had gone over to greet her hostess, and passing before a mirror, had suddenly been struck by her own beauty. Nicholas' relief at the interruption had been so obvious that she couldn't help smiling, and her smile had put old Mme Essini on her guard.

She had introduced Nicholas with reluctance. Then there had been the usual gossip about people and their private lives. Nicholas seemed rather at sea. After an hour, she found him decidedly attractive and resolved to tell him so at once, as was her wont. They were sitting on a sofa by a window, and he was lighting a cigarette when she addressed him by name in a voice that scarcely faltered:

'I find you very attractive, Nicholas.'

He made no response, but took the cigarette out of his mouth and gazed at her.

'I live at the Ritz.' She went on coldly.

She was well aware of the importance oft he last point. The Ritz was the answer to every gigolo's dream. Nicholas made a slight gesture of protest, but said nothing to show that he had understood. She thought: 'Well, that's that...' and rose to her feet.

Nicholas got up too. He was rather pale.

'May I escort you home?'

In the car, he had put his arm round her shoulders and asked her innumerable eager questions about the overdrive and the finer points of the engine. In the bedroom, it was she who had kissed him first, and he had taken her in his arms with a slight tremor and a mixture of violence and gentleness. At dawn, while he slept like a child, dead to the world, she had gone to the window to watch the day break over the Place Vendôme.

Thereafter, it had been Nicholas playing patience on the floor, Nicholas by her side at the races, Nicholas' eyes on the gold cigarette she gave him, and Nicholas suddenly seizing her hand during another party and kissing it. And now there was Nicholas whom she was about to leave and who said nothing, who was keeping up this pose of exaggerated indifference.

She got into the car and threw her head back, suddenly exhausted. Nicholas got in beside her and drove off.

From time to time on the way back she glanced at this preoccupied, distant profile, and could not help thinking that she would have been madly in love with him at twenty and that maybe life was nothing but a hopeless mess. When they reached the Porte d'Italie, Nicholas turned to her:

'Where are we going?'

'We have have to drop in at Johnny's Bar,' she said. 'I've made a date with Mme Essini there for seven o'clock.'

Mme Essini was punctual as usual. It was one of her few virtues. Nichols shook the old lady's hand, looking rather distraught.

Watching them both, a pleasing idea came to her:

'By the way, I'm leaving for the Midi tomorrow, so I shan't be able to come to your party on the sixteenth. I'm so sorry.'

Mme Essini regarded them both with a bogus air of affection: 'You lucky things, off to the sun...'

'I'm not going,' said NIcholas shortly.

There was silence. The eyes of both women converged on Nicholas, Mme Essini's the more meaningfully.

'Then you must come to my party. You can't stay in Paris all alone, it's too depressing.'

'What a good idea!' she interjected.

Mme Essini's hand was already resting possessively on Nicholas' sleeve. The latter's reaction was unexpected. He jumped out and walked out. She found him waiting by the car.

'What's come over you, Nicholas? Poor old Essini might have been a bit premature, but she's fancied you for a long time. There’s nothing to be upset about.'

Nicholas stood there without a word and seemed to be breathing with difficulty. She felt an upsurge of pity.

'Get in. You can tell me all about it when we get home.'

But he didn't wait until they got home. He told her in a strangled voice that he wasn't an animal to be bought and sold, that he could perfectly well look after himself and that he refused to be put out to pasture with an old vulture like Essini. And in any case he couldn't do anything for her. She was too old...

'But my dear Nicholas, she's my age.'

They had arrived. Nicholas turned towards her and suddenly took her face between his hands. He looked at her searchingly and she tried in vain to free herself, conscious that her make-up had probably not survived the day.

'You're very different,' Nicholas said in a low voice. 'You're ... you're very attractive. I like your face. How could you...?'

There was a note of despair in his voice as he let her go. She was dumbfounded.

'How could I what?'

'How could you offer me to that woman? Haven't I spent six months with you? Didn't it occur to you that I might become attached to you, that I could...?'

She turned away brusquely.

'You're cheating,' she said in a low voice. 'I can't afford to cheat. I've had enough. Go away.'

Alone in her bedroom she examined herself in the mirror. She was irretrievably old; she was over sixty and her eyes were full of tears. She packed hurriedly and went to bed alone in her double bed. She cried for some time before going to sleep, putting it down to nerves.

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jaehyeonsgf · 5 years ago

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Hey babe, I love your scenarios they’re amazing, I come to your blog to see if you’ve posted. Can I request a scenario with Jaehyun 17, 12 and 24.

12 : “whatever you have to say about me, say it to my face”

17 : “its like you’ve made it your sole mission to annoy me”

24 : “don’t underestimate me”

a/n : highkey wanted to write another fratboy!jaehyun, but I opted for idol!jaehyun and photographer!reader. hope you enjoy and thanks for your support :> it means a lot to me

warning : smut

[ view prompt list here ]

Landing a placement in SM Entertainment as a photographer meant that you’d have a stable income for the next few months, but it also meant that you find yourself in the company of a certain arrogant ass more often than you’d like.

Jaehyun is the hottest model currently and is making leaps and bounds in the k-modelling world, famously walking in the New York Fashion Week show, and he knows it. He knows that he is a big deal and he’s aware of how a single smile leaves a flutter of girls at his feet – that explains his bigger-than-his-wardrobe ego.

You wonder what would the public think of him if they saw what actually goes on behind the scene. They say that you should never meet your celebrities. That if you do, you’ll realise that they are nothing more than rich snobby kids, put together by absurdly expensive clothes, and that their personalities are nothing more than printed words, editing and a façade. You think that that is an accurate depiction of the contrast between the man you see in giant posters or interviews on The Late Late Show and the man that stands in front of your camera.

You come to the conclusion that before any fragments of Jaehyun’s true self reaches the masses, his management will be willing to drop large sums of money just to keep it all under wraps.

The fact doesn’t disappoint you that much, you’ve already gotten used to the reality. It simply means that you’ll have to suffer under his reign silently for the foreseeable future, or at least the end of your contract with his management.

It doesn’t stop you from bickering with him when he acts up though.

“B-but I thought you said these were okay to use!”

“That was a week ago but right now, I don’t think that they don’t look good enough,” Jaehyun calmly answers, his eyes never leaving his phone screen. He continues to swipe through his Instagram feed and it does more to further annoy you.

You roll your eyes. You had pulled two all-nighters, editing photos from a Harper’s Bazaar Korea photoshoot, only to have it been rejected by him.

“Don’t you know how long I’ve worked-“

“You say that as if my job is that easy,” he quickly shuts you up.

You acknowledge that it’s not easy to stand in front of a camera and look as good as he does. There’s a reason that you chose a life behind the camera instead of in front of it. It doesn’t stop you from showing every trace of annoyance you have on your face.

His eyes glance up at you in the mirror and at the sight of your furrowed eyebrows and tight lips, the corner of his lips raises into a smug look. He takes your silence as answer.

“Great. So I don’t see any problems with you choosing another set of photos and have them done by… Wednesday,” he arches a sculpted eyebrow up.

You open your mouth to argue that two days aren’t enough. His eyebrow arches further up.

You sigh and brace yourself for another sleepless night.

The next time you see Jaehyun, it’s at another photoshoot and you have half a mind to commit a felony right there and then. It doesn’t help that his stylists had all rushed down to MNET to help out a group of newly debuted group, leaving you all alone with him in a luxurious hotel room.

You wonder where did the professional model go because for whatever reason, Jaehyun is simply not delivering enough. Usually a few prompts are enough to get the shots of Jaehyun you needed – thanks to how his expression, gaze and posture all coming together in the perfect union. It’s one of the few perks of working with Jaehyun, shoots are usually shorter and easier to coordinate.

But not today.

Today, he’s no where near half his usual capability. Today, his concentration is fixated on something else, rather than his job. Today, you predict, will be the day he finally pushes you off the edge.

“Soften your gaze,” you demanded through clenched teeth for the third time in a row.

The gaze he gives you is instead one of frustration.

“Y-you know what, let’s just take a break,” he breathes out, lifting a hand to run it through his hair, only to stop midway when he realises that his stylists aren’t around to help him position each strand in its perfect position. His hand forms a tight fist as he lowers it.

You frown. The both of you only have the room for the next two hours and the fact that you haven’t exactly taken pictures – well, at least not pictures that can be published – bothers you.

“We can’t stop just ‘cause you aren’t feeling it, Mr. Hotshot,” you say.

“It’s not like we’re getting any work done anyways,” he throws you a pointed look, as if to toss the blame on you. And, as if his point isn’t clear enough, he chooses to add in, “Don’t underestimate me. The only reason I’ve gotten here today is because I’ve never taken a single day off.”

Your eyes widen in the rage. Who does Jung Jaehyun think he is? Who does he think he is to cast the blame on to you, when it’s clearly his fault? It annoys you to no end that he actually thinks that you’re the one screwing it up.

Yet you choose not to retaliate. At least you try not to. You breathe and set your camera down on the nightstand, trying desperately to stay calm. Your best friend had shared with you a breathing technique that was supposed to work wonders to calm yourself down and you try it. You recall the instructions and breathe in, holding it for a moment, then letting it go.

Still, it doesn’t stop you from mumbling under your breath, “It’s as if you’ve made it your sole mission to annoy me. It’s not even my fault.”

You hadn’t mean for Jaehyun to hear it, but he does. And it flips a switch within him and in one deft movement, he has you back against the soft white bed and pinned under him.

“Whatever you have to say about me, say it to my face,” he almost growls out.

Getting what he wants isn’t a matter of privilege, rather it was a given. More of a right than a blessing. His status meant that everywhere he went, there’ll be crowds of people following him around, taking pictures of him as he goes through his day. His popularity doesn’t end with the masses. Modelling agencies from all over the world are pining for him to sign contracts with them. So, it comes as no surprise when people start doing things just to please him, just to gain his favour.

Still, he can’t deny the surge of satisfaction he gets when he manages to force his way through life. And he feels it, looking down on your blushing face and eyes fixated at the window beside the bed, rather than him.

It is then that you make the mistake of tearing your eyes away from the window. Because when your eyes meet his, something dangerous transpires.

You gulp visibly and remind yourself. He is… a client.

It doesn’t stop you from kissing him back when he places his lips against yours. You sigh against his lips and relaxes your body. The kiss starts out slow but then it isn’t. It becomes clashing teeth and rough tongues that speaks of desperation.

He is a client but God, if you aren’t excited for what’s in store. It’s been awhile since you’ve last were intimate with anyone. That isn’t to say that you didn’t have your chances, the chances were there but you just refused them. Your mind was simply too preoccupied with Jung Jaehyun and his lists of unreasonable demands to do anything else – sex included.

You bend one knee up, slotting it between his legs, feeling the growing erection. You’re rewarded with a lustful moan. It sends shivers down your spine but you refuse to acknowledge just how angelic it sounds next to your ears. Instead, you lift one arm up, snaking it behind Jaehyun’s neck and up into his hair. They aren’t smooth or soft because of the amount of hair product in them, but it doesn’t stop you from tugging on it. Your other hand quickly undoes his button up shirt.

His hands don’t leave you alone either. He steadies himself using one hand to grip on the headboard, as the other slips under your shirt. His warm touch is enough for you to elicit a hiss into the kiss. His hand is everywhere, from your waist, to your hips and rests against your ribcage, caressing your skin.

“Your clothes,” he says when he pulls away from you.

The both of you are breathless and you just know that your lips are swollen red. You push him upwards, so that he is sitting on his knees and you’re sitting upright. It takes only a brief moment before you’ve gotten rid of your top and your pants, leaving you in a mismatched black laced bra and a white silk panty. He takes the opportunity to work on his own pants, quickly pulling it off so that he’s in his boxer briefs.

Within moments, both your bodies are again pressed up against each other. His lips wander across your jawline and works down your neck.

“Wait- Oh god…” You exhale shakily and turns your head one way to give him access to your neck. “Don’t-I’m!” you try to warn him about how sensitive you are along your neck but Jaehyun gets there first with his soft lips.

Your soft mewls encourage his smug smirk and he decides to treat you by generously littering patches of red and purple down your neck and on to your chest. You know that they’ll bruise tomorrow but you don’t care enough to stop him.

Then his body leaves yours again and, this time, you let a whine out.

“Hold on, baby doll,” he comforts, using the side of his index finger to lift your chin up so that you’re looking at him.

He uses his index finger to split apart your lips and in an act of seduction, you lick his finger. The act catches him off-guards but he lets you have his hand. You take his index and middle fingers into your mouth, slightly hollowing your cheeks as you suck on them, playing with them using your tongue.

There’s something at the sight of you with saliva dripping down your chin and mouth full of his fingers that turns Jaehyun on even more. So, he removes his fingers and, instead, pulls down his boxer briefs, letting his fully erect length spring free. You let out a shaky breathe when you see his size. He aligns it to your swollen lips.

“Suck on this instead.”

You get on your knees and obediently swallows him into your mouth. You feel his length hit the back of your throat and a single tear rolls out your eye. You steady yourself, one hand on his hips before bobbing up and down, letting him complete destroy the back of your throat. He doesn’t try to control his moans and it’s soon that your name is bouncing off the walls, punctuated with the occasional hisses.

It made you feel good that the Jung Jaehyun is at your mercy. This lasts for a mere moment because without warning, his hand is gripping a fistful of your hair, shoving his dick down your throat making you gag from the unexpected move. Your voice is muffled by his cock and he doesn’t notice how badly he is wrecking your throat.

Your salvation comes the moment he pulls out and orders you to get on your hands and feet. You obey, sticking your ass high up in the air. This is the moment that you’ve been waiting for.

“You’re so wet for me baby doll,” he breathes against your warm core as he pulls your panty off of you.

A whine leaves your lips because you know the exact smug expression he has on. “H-hurry up.”

“Impatient,” he comments but is quick to reach over to, what you think is, his wallet.

But your hand flies out, stopping him. You’re already dripping in desperation and the longer you waited, the more it felt like torture. “Don’t… I’m on the pill.”

The way lust rolls off your tongue is enough to stop Jaehyun and his grin widens upon hearing the fact. It takes him less than a second before he slides himself in you and it makes a sinful sound.

It’s been a while and you’ve totally forgotten how amazing it is to feel completely filled. You sigh in pleasure. Jaehyun makes an equally loud moan, fingers lightly digging into your hips. The pleasure of your walls clenching so goddamn tightly around him is enough to overwhelm him and he almost comes, but controls himself. He steadies himself, letting you adjust to his length. It’s only when you desperately started grinding down on him that he starts thrusting into you.

He reaches forward and pulls your head back by your hair and his other hand reaches forward and grips tightly around your throat. He wastes no time and starts moving his hips, with each thrust comes quicker than the next.

In a blur of strained moans, desperate whimpers and gasps, Jaehyun keeps up with the brutal pace and nothing stops him. Not even as you came undone under him, shaking and shivering, yelling at him to stop, only for the moans and whimpers to completely fill your throat. Quickly after your first orgasm, the overstimulation builds up your second orgasm and this time, the knot is wound tighter. It only when you feel him coming into you that it snaps, bringing you into your second orgasm. Even then he doesn’t stop, until his creamy white cum seeps out of your drenched pussy.

He pulls himself out of you, taking a moment to take it just how absolutely ravaged you look. Hair in a mess, eyes glossy with tears, cheeks and chest flushed, your lips are slightly parted and there’s saliva leaking out of it, and the way his cum overflows out of you. It almost enough to get him in the mood for round two.

But it’s been a while for him too and he’s tired. So, instead he collapses beside you. You’re panting and take a moment to catch your breath.

But the camera by the nightstand is a reminder to yourself, the purpose of your visit to the hotel. And you pick it up, carelessly snapping away photos of Jaehyun, with his hair in a mess and his shirt unbuttoned. He lets you.

And when those photos finally come out, a month later, it surprises you that the public enjoyed the look almost as much as you do. So much so that his stylists don’t question why his hairstyle is different and why his lipstick has turned much redder.

Jaehyun invites you over to his house that night to celebrate its success – this time you make sure that your lingerie matches.

#nct #nct 127 #nct u #jung jaehyun #nct smut #jaehyun smut #mine #requested

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mindofglue · 5 years ago

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Landlords should not be a thing

This is the first of two scams I wanted to share my thoughts on.

Covid-19 has shown these scams for what they are and I hope when this is all over, there’s some real change. And if there isn’t, I still hope for real change!

I, like many my generation rent. I essentially fund the retirement of my landlords. They’re a nice couple but it’s just wrong. It creates a huge inequality of wealth. They bought this flat several years ago and they pay a mortgage on it. I pay £900 a month on rent. The cost of the property £235,000 in 2013. I’m willing to bet the mortage is under £900 a month. I would guess it being around £800, but could be more or less depending how much was initially paid. That’s £100 a month free money. You may say but they need to pay off their investment. But When they sell their property, perhaps if they die or move. They will likely sell the flat for £300,000 That’s £65,000 profit. They are making their living off of my living, it’s parasitic.

But they’re old, they probably only have one or two properties they rent. There’s plenty of bigger players, doing exactly the same thing, with many more properties and behaving a lot worse when it comes to maintenance and looking after the welfare of the occupiers.

Housing prices are being driven up by the rental market. Landlords are making property a scarcity which means they can also charge more for rents because the cost of the property was so high the mortgage is higher and therefore to make a profit, tenants must pay more.

The same applies to business and commercial lets. If you have a prime location in a city centre, you can charge crazy amounts. It’s free money on an asset that you have. For businesses it’s a monthly cost that goes into a pit. The business can increase its profits by reducing expenditure, and increasing turnover. But that lease and renting, is just an ever increasing expense. Where the landlords use these rents to pay for their living. They don’t work to earn a living like everyone else. They just take it from those who are earning a living.

At the moment businesses aren’t operating. They have no need for this space so why should they pay for it? But some landlords are so greedy especially when this is their only source of income. And demand full rent payments. This will either cause the business to leave, or go bust. Then the shop will lie empty. A worthless asset because the Landlord has bled the occupant dry. To counter this, Governments are telling banks to shoulder the loss of payments. So the Landlord’s mortgage goes down, and can “pass on” the savings to the occupier. The banks are just as parasitic in this system, earning money through the money of others. What’s been happening is banks are not passing on much. And the landlords being greedy can double dip, get reduced mortgage but try and keep full rent income. With businesses, they will collapse and with it comes the whole pile. This top down stimulus can’t work because the tower is built on greed. For regular people it is similar but worse. If you lose your income, that’s it. You have to ask nicely from your landlord to reduce or freeze rents. At least with businesses once this is over you can recoop your lost revenue by demanding higher rents. From regular people this isn’t the case. It’s not like wages will increase after this is over, if anything they’ll fall. And if you lose your job completely, who knows when you can get another. And this isn’t the case where you don’t need that place anyway. With a business the property is where you make your money. With a home, it’s where you live, you need it with or without an income. And if something doesn’t budge, the tenant is going to be evicted. The balance of power is always with the landlord.

What will bring about change? If there’s nobody to pay rents, holding onto these assets is worthless. If too many people end up homeless and homes and held onto but not lived in.

What will change be? House prices will crash. Landlords have to sell loss making properties at a loss to recoop costs.

What I hope will happen is laws are put in-place to stop the few with the wealth holding the cards of who gets to gets to live where.

If rents were lower, people could save more to buy a house. If house prices were lower, less would be needed to save to buy a house. If less people needed to rent, less people would be landlords. This is a dream and it can’t happen without legislation. Landlords are a parasite on the world and we need rid of them.

#COVID-19 #landlords #rent #mortgage #cash money #parasite

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madamlaydebug · 5 years ago

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- Jupiter Pluto Conjunction 2020 -

One of the major planetary cycles taking place in 2020 is the Jupiter Pluto Conjunction. This alignment is rare, happening only every 12-13 years.

Jupiter and Pluto will conjunct or align three times this year, on April 4th, June 30th, and November 12th, 2020.

These dates can be seen as the beginning, middle, and end of the cycle, and while we will feel the effects of this alignment from the end of March right up until December, these specific dates may provide some clues as to what’s instore under this fated alignment.

Jupiter and Pluto Astrology

Jupiter and Pluto coming together is the astrological signature for abundance, prosperity, and fortune.

Jupiter is the ruler of the heavens and the planet of abundance and expansion. Pluto is the ruler of the underworld, and the planet of power and death and rebirth.

As these two come together, we are going to see major shifts and changes when it comes to how we view abundance, money, and the giving and receiving of energy.

Pluto brings destruction, but Jupiter’s heavenly presence ensures that whatever is built in its place is brighter, better, and more abundant than before.

Things may feel like they are crumbling around us, but as they do, the ashes pave the way for a new way to be birthed into existence. This is abundance in action. Nothing is ever lost, it just comes around in another form.

Jupiter Pluto Conjunction in 2020

Jupiter and Pluto coming together in 2020, is likely to shine a spotlight on the economy, our finances, and our relationship with abundance.

Many are already feeling the strain of the economy, and while these times may not feel very prosperous, Jupiter and Pluto come together to rebirth a new and hopefully, better way.

As the planet of death and rebirth, Pluto is not afraid to destroy things in order to rebuild them. Pluto will find whatever is weak, and cause it to crumble, but Jupiter’s optimism allows us to quickly get to work on fixing things so they can be better and more prosperous than before.

We are already seeing changes to the economy and it’s likely that this alignment will bring some further news.

While this can be a little unnerving, this combination of energy is our opportunity to create more balance, to strengthen the economy for everyone, and to create a healthier relationship when it comes to money.

Intuitive Messages from Jupiter and Pluto

Jupiter and Pluto are inviting us to look at our relationship with abundance.

Take a moment to think about what abundance means to you.

Abundance is so much more than just material things or money; it is about expansion. It is about moving through the world in a way that allows you to see the opportunities rather than the limitations.

Abundance is not something we create, it is something we tune into and these cosmic bodies coming together are a message from the Universe that it’s time to dial in and upgrade our relationship with abundance.

Within us right now, our body contains an abundance of cells. There is also an abundance of stars in the sky, and grains of sand at the beach. An abundance of water flows through our oceans, and the Sun shines so brightly its able to light up everything on this planet.

Abundance is all around us, and as we start to recognize it, and see it as more than just material, we can start to understand and work with its power and potential so much more.

Jupiter and Pluto coming together open the doors to abundance big and wide and remind us that whenever we lose something, something else is always gained, and whenever there is an ending, a new beginning always follows.

If doors feel like they have closed around you, it is important to grieve and honor any emotions that arise. But when you feel ready, see if you can lean into what new opportunities may now be on offer to you.

Jupiter and Pluto are here to remind us that we are worthy of receiving and it is safe for us to give. They remind us to focus our attention on what we wish to attract into our lives and to feel for ourselves the abundant Universe that lives within and all around us.

Can you recognize the abundance that is already within and around you?

Overall, Jupiter and Pluto coming together is our guidepost from the Universe that the time has come to create a more balanced flow and to remember that abundance is always around us.

Jupiter and Pluto Exercises

Here are some ways you can start to embody the lessons and gifts of abundance that these two cosmic giants are bringing our way through 2020-

1.) Think about what you would like to receive more of in your life. Make a list of 3-5 things. Now, reflect on how you freely give those things to yourself or others. Do you embody or give what you wish to attract? Think about how you can start offering others and the world what you wish to receive.

2.) Set a clear intention for what you would like to create for yourself and your life. You don’t have to have the full picture, but creating an intention and getting it out on paper can be a way of clearly communicating your goals not only to yourself but also to the Universe.

3.) Use the following journal prompts-

When I connect to abundance I feel…

Abundance feels like…

I feel most abundant when I…

I invite abundance into my life today by…

4.) For 30 days, make a list of 7 ways you recognized abundance as you moved through your day. It could be anything from noticing a blooming flower to seeing a penny on the ground.

5.) Organize your finances by calculating your income and your expenses. Where are you spending where you don’t need to be? Where could you afford to give a little more? Take a practical look at how you spend and especially pay attention to the non-essentials- sometimes where we splurge the most is where we find our greatest insecurities.

6.) Go through every room in your home and create space for abundance to enter. When we live in a cluttered environment, there is no room for receiving and being in the flow. Clear out things you no longer use, pass them on to others who need them, and invite new energy into your life.

7.) Bring your awareness to the doors that are opening for you. What new opportunities have come your way recently? What new insights have you received? What benefits or support are on offer to you right now? Stretch your hands out and ask the Universe to guide you to the support you need right now.

by Tanaaz

Source: https://foreverconscious.com/category/astrology

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In Universal Service ◊ Keeper of The Diamond Light Codes https://www.facebook.com/KeeperOfThePlatinumRay/

Light encoded picture by : Ulrikke Aagaard

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a-royal-obsession · 4 years ago

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The Prince of Wales to the King

Carlton House, 31 May 1796

The reluctance I must ever feel at giving your Majesty anxiety upon any occasion has made me to the last moment refrain from representing to your Majesty the extremity to which I am now driven by the conduct of the Princess. Your Majesty is already in possession of the correspondence that has passed between the Princess of Wales & myself, to which I must now add the letter which I yesterday receiv’d. It is needless therefore for me to appeal to you, Sir, whether or not I have honestly endeavour’d to avoid an open rupture.

Your Majesty will, I am certain, give me credit for considerations of the fullest attention towards you, as well as for due regard to publick opinion, when I call to your mind my long patience with that character of the Princess which I unfortunately perceiv’d even before the hour that united me to her. I have but to appeal to the best of women and of mothers for the prognostick which I then form’d. I can truly say that no consideration upon earth but unalterable devotion to your Majesty & the sense of its being the entire sacrifice of yourself, offer’d to your comfort, could have made me, even at that moment, fulfill the engagement, whence I perfectly augured all the unhappiness which I have since experienced. Your Majesty is but too well acquainted with the causes of my estrangement from the Princess. Independent of particulars which delicacy forbids me to repeat upon paper, I need but recapitulate her private conduct in the family, the nature of which your Majesty is, or may be, appriz’d of from others of your children besides me. The cruel calumnies with which she has loaded the Duke & Duchess of York, especially the Duchess (whose course of life would have been the noblest example that the Princess could have followed); her attempts to sow the seeds of discord between every branch of us; her odious endeavours to vitiate the principles of my innocent sisters, and the disgusting strain of falsehood in which she constantly indulges herself, carrying it so far, amongst other instances, as to have advanced charges of brutality of manner against me upon occasions when my mother, my sisters, & the attendants present were all witnesses that nothing that could give a colour to the imputation had ever passed.

Motives of publick policy recommended a suppression of personal feelings, at least as far as could strike the eyes of the world; therefore I aim’d at such an arrangement as might enable me to pass my life with the Princess upon such terms of civility as might satisfy all outward appearances. The insidious practices of the Princess has totally frustrated this hope. The manner in which she has shifted her ground of complaint both to me & to your Majesty will evince that her object was to avoid accomodation, notwithstanding the letters which your Majesty condescended to write to her, as well as to the Duke of Gloucester.

Misled by advisers in whose hands she is become an absolute tool, she has flatter’d herself she could reduce me to such a situation as would give her a decided political superiority in this country. This was only to be effected by the degradation of my character.

I have been well aware of the unremitting assiduity with which calumnies of every sort have for some years past been circulated to my disadvantage. It was a natural object of the propagators of these slanders to get their calumnies apparently confirmed by the testimony of the Princess, & she unfortunately saw an end to be answer’d by adopting the views of those traducers. It was hence their joint view to impress the world with a belief that she suffer’d the most harsh, the most unjust, & the most ungenerous treatment from me, an insinuation which she has sedulously endeavoured to palm upon the publick by theatrical tricks on every occasion where she could hope they would have effect.

The impossibility of combating this dishonest policy without deviating from that principle of silence & forbearance which I had laid down for myself, made me perhaps not sufficiently attentive to the impression she was making upon publick opinion. The extent to which that erroneous sentiment has gain’d ground was prov’d at the Opera House on Saturday night in a manner upon which I need not comment; as I can call God to witness that I never did, or said, a harsh thing to the Princess since she has been in my house, your Majesty will judge what I ought to feel upon an event that cannot be misconstrued.

The matter is now brought to publick issue between the Princess & me, & her conception of the advantage which she has gained from my former silence, observ’d of late through deference to your Majesty’s wishes, will be clear from the letter I have the honor to enclose, a composition obviously not her own, especially when compared with her first letter and the former part of the correspondence, and in an insolence of tone wholly unbecoming & which would not easily have occurr’d to a woman.

Your Majesty must be sufficiently sensible of the danger there would be in setting the example of submission to the licentious judgment of a crowd, but in this case there would be the further mischief of fulfilling all the views of a party who, in the run they make at me, strike at the whole Royal Family. A compliance with the terms which the Princess affects to hold out would be an acquiescence on my part in the truth of every charge they wish to fix upon me.

However general may be the misguided clamour of the world, to bend my neck, as a man & as a husband, under the practices of a designing woman, or rather those of a party of whom she is now become irrevocably the instrument, is a baseness of which your son shall never be found capable, as long as I remain satisfied with my own integrity & conscious of those principles of justice & honor which have always hitherto & ever shall dictate my conduct through life.

Since therefore it would now be absolutely ruinous to my character & interest, as well as destructive to my peace of mind, for the rest of my life, to have further communication or intercourse of any kind with so dangerous a person as the Princess, I have only earnestly to supplicate your Majesty to order measures for our final separation.

You must see, Sir, that where tempers are so widely different, education, manners and habits so completely opposite, it would be difficult in the extreme to maintain domestick tranquility; but when to those obstacles are added the sense of the virulent persecution which I have so unjustly suffer’d, it must be idle to think of real reconciliation, & it is evident that the Princess does not wish it on her part. A reconciliation, only ostensible, whilst it would inflict indelible stain upon my character, could not be productive of even quiet, and would but give the Princess more advantageous ground for machination against me & the whole of our Family.

My deliberate resolution being formed upon such ground, your Majesty will perceive that it is impossible to be shaken. I shall therefore acquaint the Princess with this step when your Majesty’s Birthday is past, intimating that all further correspondence ceases between us. In this state of things your Majesty will undoubtedly feel it impossible for me to return to my own house as long as the Princess shall reside there, and I trust your Majesty will think it necessary on this occasion for my honour as well as for that of your family & for the satisfaction which the publick have a right to expect on a matter so interesting to the nation, not to conceal the true grounds of my differences with the Princess & to free the case from those calumniating & fallacious pretexts which she has thrown over it.

I cannot close this letter without adverting to the situation of my poor little girl. As a father I must feel the greatest anxiety to secure to her the advantages of an education suitable to her birth, & which unfortunately her mother has never known. Straightened as my income is, I shall be happy to defray any expense attending her, but I must at the same time express my earnest hopes that the child may have the blessing of being brought up under the immediate eye of your Majesty and of her grandmother, that she may have the chance of proving such as my sisters are now. The power is vested in your Majesty to make that arrangement & I trust that your kindness will so exert it.

Overwhelmed with unhappiness, it has not been in my power to comprize all my feelings in a shorter letter. Pardon my prolixity and allow me to conclude with assuring you that, impressed with every sentiment of duty & affection that can be felt for the best of parents, I remain, Sir [etc.].

#George IV #George III #Royalty #Letter #1796 #Caroline of Brunswick #Queen Charlotte #Princess Charlotte of Wales #Frederick Duke of York #Frederica Duchess of York #The Dear Sisterhood #William Henry Duke of Gloucester #Queue

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