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partycatty · 10 months ago

Note

we back with another request⁉️

can be old or young (mk11 or mk1) johnny your pick, but what if fem!reader and johnny are sparring (likely in private, but if they wanna be risky go ahead) and reader is losing.

sooo, she flashes him her titties as a distraction and ends up getting him pinned. you can turn it into smut or end it there, your pick

love your writing 💙💙

DEAR GOD YOURE SO FUCKING RIGHT ALL THE TIME ILY, i had a SLIIIIGHTLY different image for this so HEAR ME OUT

johnny cage > eyes on the prize

warnings: Oh, these? My boobies? My massive fucking titties? My super stuffed milkies? My honker bonker doinky boinkies? My fucking fabric stretching wind flapping gravity welling sex mounds? You mean these super duper ultra hyper god damn motherfucking tits?

[ part 2 ] [ masterlist ]

after the time merger, your boss seems uneasy seeing his younger self parade around the compound like he owns the place. you're unfortunately put up to the task as babysitting him.

"private," the older counterpart summons you to the center of the room. "keep an eye on him for me, yeah? he's... well, he's me, and i don't trust him one bit." you both glance over to younger johnny, who is kicking his feet up and browsing IMDB - his own page, to be specific - with no regard for authority. you nod and walk off, approaching the younger star who doesn't notice you at first.

"mr. cage," you try to get his attention, leaning down to his level as he sits. johnny tears his eyes away from the screen to catch a good look at you in your uniform, pulling his sunglasses down his hooked nose. "captain cage requested i accompany you around the compound for safety as the time merge is figured out."

"oh, i'll follow you anywhere, beautiful," he replies smoothly, clicking and winking up at you. your face heats up, this is your... almost-boss. this version wasn't with sonya, doesn't have a kid. a part of you wonders if your present johnny also finds you attractive if this is how his younger version behaves. you'd always found him hot, but that was something you kept to yourself for the sake of his family and your career.

johnny snaps in your face with a twisted expression. "hey, since you're here, the future sucks! i've been here for an hour and i haven't seen one jetpack. not one!" he holds a finger in your face, and you can't help but stare down at him in bewilderment. how did this man become the captain of the special forces??

his complaints sprout an idea, as you try to divert his annoyance. "the special forces compound contains plenty of advanced technology. would you care for a tour?" you suggest politely, gesturing out of the room.

johnny seems intrigued by your offer, willing to follow you around like a dog if it meant getting a good view of your ass the whole way. it's your figure that intrigues him the most.

"older me was a dumbass for not tappin' this," johnny very loudly exclaims as you two walk down a hallway, making you pinch the bridge of your nose. "i might have to alter my destiny... there's no way you fight with a pretty body like that."

"the members of S.F. are put through extensive physical training and discipline. i can fight, mr. cage," you reply curtly, not all too impressed by his catcalling, though his boldness amuses you.

"yeah?" he asks playfully, jogging in front of you to walk backwards as he glares at you through his shades. "care to prove it? you lose, you give me your number."

"and if you lose?" you question, crossing your arms.

"then i give you my number." jesus, he was dumb. hot, but dumb. it was impossibly hard to remain professional in front of him. you entertain his bait and open a side door that led to the garage. it was spacious and full of various tools, vehicles and weapons. the crew often met there for mass debriefs and announcements, but served as a perfect sparring location.

"you're on, dollface," johnny sneers, readying himself with an overdramatic flourished war cry. "but first, no handicaps. take all that off." he waves at your vest and various equipment strapped to you. you shake your head and sigh, readying your own pose after shrugging the extremities off and kicking them to the side. it was johnny in his coat giving you a delicious view of his chest, and you in your skin-tight underclothes. you figured regardless you'd have an advantage against johnny considering you were familiar with his fighting style, but his strength outmatched you easily. he was twice your size in muscle, after all. didn't really matter just how much studying you put into his mannerisms in combat.

his powers proved to be a significant advantage as well, doubling his strikes when most humans could only land one in the time it took. each punch you threw was parried embarrassingly easily, and each kick was matched with an even swifter swing.

despite being military trained, you couldn't help but find the fight fun. johnny would grab hold of you and spin you around, as if you were dancing, or flash one of his signature smiles at you when he felt more in charge. he'd cackle when you made a fool of yourself, swinging at nothing.

one of his backflip kicks infused with his powers knocked you straight on your ass, and johnny towers over you with a devilish grin. his legs are spread, with you on the floor between them as you catch your breath.

"do you yield, sweet thing?" he asks, bending forward to hover his face over yours. you cringe, holding your side as you try to get up, but johnny just places his boot on your chest. "you were all bark and no bite, sweetheart."

as you regain your composure, thoroughly displeased with the outcome of the battle, you get an absolutely evil idea.

"how about you get a bite of these?" you ask, smirking. your fingers find the hem of your shirt and pull upward, revealing your bra and your breasts spilling from the fabric as you lay on your back. the chill of the room defines the shape of your nipples through the bra, and johnny's eyes fixate - hard. his sunglasses comically slide down his nose and clatter to the floor, his puppy eyes wide and wanting at the sight of your barely clothed chest.

when you know for a fact he's transfixed, you swat his foot off of your chest and curl your body before placing a hard upward kick into his balls, making him yell out and stumble backward.

you stand up and brush yourself off, beaming at the actor for besting him at his own shallow game.

"you - ngh -" johnny whines and clutches his crotch, pointing a finger at you accusingly. "i yield."

you shrug innocently, reaching a hand out to him considering your positions were now fully swapped. "gotta keep your eyes on the prize, cage."

you hoist him up with a grunt, patting his shoulder.

"oh, believe me," he breathlessly chuckles. "i was." he smiles crookedly.

...did you just flash your soon-to-be-boss? is this gonna alter the timeline...?

#mortal kombat #mortal kombat x reader #johnny cage #mk11 #johnny cage x reader #mortal kombat 11 x reader #marley writes ☆

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suzukiblu · 1 month ago

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WIP excerpt for Jan behind the cut; "Superboys Switch". (( chrono || non-chrono ))

Maybe even the same age, he thinks, and then forces himself not to think about it.

( they’re less than a day old, and they look THIS old. how many years is that? how much of a childhood did they lose? how much– )

Jon forces himself not to think about it.

“I really don’t think not committing murder is being a stick in the mud,” he says, and the kid snorts and then floats up a couple feet into the air, half-tucking their feet under themself as they do. Jon–frowns, for a second. That looks . . . something about how they’re flying looks a little off, for some reason. Like–different from how it looks when Dad and Aunt Kara do it, and different from how it feels when he does it.

Then again, the kid’s two seconds into flying, so it’s kind of ridiculous of him to assume they’d do it exactly right straight off the bat.

“Being a stick in the mud is just, like, a vibe, dude,” the kid informs him matter-of-factly, then floats over towards Jay and peers over his shoulder at the screen, then immediately looks bored by whatever’s on it and looks around the lab instead. They still sound nothing like Jon would expect someone made in a lab to sound, and his gut twists a little.

But also, whatever’s on that screen already made Damian suggest committing multiple murders, and the kid just looks bored about it, one way or the other, so . . .

So Jon doesn’t know how he feels about that, exactly. A kid who doesn’t sound like they came from a lab and doesn’t act like they came from a lab, but also doesn’t seem even slightly concerned by whatever made Damian seriously consider committing murder again and did not make Jay dissuade him from said consideration.

It definitely makes him want to get said kid the hell out of this miserable excuse for a basement, though.

“Just–you guys figure out the theoretical arson, I’ll figure out what to do about the staff, alright?” he says, sighing again. He can probably toss them all in a transport vehicle or two and then just carry those straight to the police while Damian and Jay watch the kid, he figures. Which isn’t great for a “you should send these people to jail” thing, admittedly, so maybe he should actually call the League and see who’s available to help Jay strip the data for damning evidence while removing any damning DNA or anything like that. Or, like, whatever they need right now.

“I still consider what to do about the staff a fairly simple equation,” Damian mutters under his breath as the kid turns upside-down in the air behind him and peers at the heavy hood of his cape and the sword slung across his back. It’s a sakabato–a reverse blade katana, he means–and the reason that Jon is under pain of kryptonite not allowed to tell Batman anything about anime, like . . . literally ever. It just looks like a normal katana visually, though, especially when it’s sheathed, so he’s not sure why the kid looks so puzzled about–

“Why’s your sword sharpened on the wrong side?” the kid asks, frowning in bemusement, and Damian pauses.

Jon pauses, because Damian’s sakabato sheath is lead-lined. Mostly so he has a quick supply of lead in emergencies these days and less because he doesn’t want Jon to know what’s in it, but it’s definitely still lead-lined. There’s no way the kid could’ve seen through it, so how . . . ?

“It allows the weapon to be used nonlethally,” Damian replies, watching the kid with a neutral expression that screams “suspicion” on a Bat. “As well as making the decision to slay a foe a more deliberate choice, as the weapon must be wielded backwards to cut.”

“Doesn’t that mean the sharp side’s always pointing towards you?” the kid says, wrinkling their nose. “And like, isn’t it way harder using it backwards, if you gotta?”

“Yes,” Damian says. “That is the point. The weapon is a handicap meant to keep me from inflicting a mortal wound any way but deliberately, and also to make that wound harder to inflict even once I choose to.”

“. . . that is so badass, oh my god,” the kid mutters under their breath.

Jon is still concerned about how the kid found out about Damian’s sword being a sakabato, since if Cadmus had told him he’d think they’d have at least had theories for why it was a thing, but also is now significantly less optimistic about his chances of ending up the kid’s favorite.

Yeah, he should’ve absolutely told Batman about anime when he was still young enough to get away with it being an “accidental” slip of the tongue and embarrassed Damian out of ever using the damn thing in the field. Like, ever.

#jon kent #damian wayne #kon el #conner kent #superfamily #reverse robins #superboy #dc robin #wip: superboys switch #jan

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adore-laur · 1 year ago

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THE FIRST DAY HOME

— an addition to milestones (part of the dadrry universe) 🌅

——

A revitalizing gust of autumn air graced Harry's lungs when he nudged his hip against the handicap button near the hospital door. His hands were too occupied to manually push it open himself since one acted as a crutch of balance for you, and the other gripped the car seat that held his two-day-old daughter.

During the journey out, finally leaving behind drab hallways and stuffy rides in the elevator, Harry refilled his disposable coffee cup and drowsily glanced between the Keurig and his sleeping baby girl. He noticed she was no bigger than the burbling machine in front of him. Just shy of eighteen inches tall, she could have practically been mistaken for a doll with her pouted pink lips and silken eyelashes that melted the hearts of everyone who passed by. The nurses Harry had made friends with over the past couple of days fawned over her, and it had taken a good ten minutes to leave the waiting room because of all the attention.

She belonged at home, though, which is why he politely excused himself and ushered you and his baby out of the hospital like he was relocating valuable artwork. On second thought, the analogy didn't sound too far from reality.

Scanning the congested parking lot, Harry tried to remember where he parked the damn car; those three cups of black coffee he had downed in the last hour weren't working in his favor. He shivered and tucked you closer into his warmth. It was November, so a chill hung in the crisp morning air and required sweatshirts. His daughter had a crocheted blanket from the nursery resting over her body and a pink beanie snug on her head. The temperature change didn't seem to bother her, nor did the movement when he eventually steered the two of you in the direction of the car.

He unlocked the doors while mentally reviewing the safety procedures for securing a fragile baby into a big, scary vehicle. So many things could go wrong, but he brushed aside those troubling thoughts and carefully installed the car seat to face the rear.

"You got everything?" you asked faintly, lingering behind him like a gentle spirit guide.

Harry turned his head and took in your physical state of weariness. "Yeah, love. Did you want to do it? Sorry, I got ahead of myself." Your detached gaze looked right through him as you shook your head.

"No, I'm too tired and sore," you whispered, sniffling a little. He sincerely hoped it was from the weather and not from forthcoming emotions.

Lovingly cradling your head, he said, "I hear you, honey. How about you go sit down and rest for a bit? I'm in dad mode right now. You need to be in sleep mode."

You slumped your forehead against his chest, an adorable way of nonverbally saying thank you, then retreated to the other side of the car to get in the back. Harry reached over to buckle your seatbelt before continuing his task.

After pushing his unwashed hair out of his eyes, he clicked the car seat into position and tightened the straps securing his daughter just to be safe. Her blanket was tucked behind her neck, and he inhaled the skin there, her addictive baby smell easing his cluttered mind almost instantly. With a featherlight kiss to her cheek, he softly shut the door and slid into the driver's seat with aching joints and a foreign feeling coursing through his veins. He adjusted the rear-view mirror to better see both of you and grinned when he saw you dozing off already. He couldn't help himself when he reached back to loosely grab your fingers and plant a kiss on your wedding ring.

"What's wrong?" you slurred, weakly squeezing his thumb. The way you stared at him, so very tired yet so very beautiful, reminded him of memories gone by.

"Nothing," Harry said with a choked laugh. Why was he tearing up? When had that happened? "You… you're a mom. We're parents. It hit me just now."

He always knew you were never meant to be a stranger in his life.

"Well, Mom needs Dad to start driving so I can sleep in my own bed again—and on my stomach." You smiled lazily. "Oh, I can't wait for that."

With that, he reversed out of the parking space and headed home. It was a tranquil drive along the coast, soft breathing and sips of coffee being the only sounds until he eventually pulled into the driveway, the slowest he'd ever done.

The next few minutes were a blur. Harry unpacked the trunk stuffed with supply bags he had brought to the hospital, which were full of necessary and unnecessary items. Once inside the comfort of the house, he watched you immediately sprawl out onto the couch and drown in the comforter that had been left there from your five-in-the-morning contractions.

Harry filled a glass of ice water for you and set it on the coffee table before kneeling, his knees cracking due to minimum use in the last forty-eight hours. "I'm going to show her around the house," he murmured, playing with your hair.

"You sound like a real estate agent."

He hummed a dry laugh. "Am I delirious, or has motherhood made your jokes worse?"

You kicked your foot out to hit him; however, you accidentally nailed him right in his groin region. Harry grunted and pinched his eyes shut, suffering through the momentary pain. Your gasp quickly turned into a giggle, and he tickled your neck as revenge.

"I'd like to have more kids with you, thanks," he said, standing with a groan and subtly adjusting himself. "Call me if you need anything, yeah? And drink some water, please."

He stepped away and lifted his daughter from the car seat, his heart expanding at the way her body remained scrunched. He then wrapped her blanket around himself, the material stretching enough to cover her.

He should show her the nursery first, where he would spend a lot of bonding time in the upcoming weeks, or even the kitchen, where she'd be his enthralled audience member as he cooked meals. Instead, he slid off his shoes and opened the patio door before slowly trekking down the wooden stairs leading to the house's private beach area. The California sunrise was a boundless blend of blues and oranges, and the water along the horizon sparkled.

"What do you think?" he asked the sleeping bundle in his arms. With bare feet, he found a place on the sand where the waves barely reached his toes. The sound of them crashing on the shore solidified the feeling of home in his chest. "Pretty breathtaking, huh?"

He would never get sick of the view since it was the backdrop of his most treasured moments with you. Drinking coffee together and watching the sunrise as birds chirped their morning songs. Spending golden hour evenings kissing in the ocean while lust flourished like a summer zinnia. Moonlit nights sitting by a campfire, prattling on about the future while tipsy on wine.

Everything circled back to you, like he was in a whirlpool of your sheer, shimmering existence.

"Your mom," Harry mused, "she's amazing, isn't she? Sometimes, I wonder how she does it. How she makes everything look so effortless." He bent his knees and laid his daughter on his thighs, as if speaking to her directly would ingrain the sentiment into her head. "I want you to know she will give you the world, okay? She's going to make you feel so loved, and I'll do my absolute best to match her affection, but know that you won't meet anyone who loves more selflessly than her."

The breeze agreed as it picked up and swirled around him. Glancing down, he studied the creation in his arms. Her features were the perfect fusion of him and you, with the shape of her eyes matching yours and the shape of her lips matching his.

"I hope you look more like her than me when you get older," he said, drawing shapes in the sand with his fingers. "But the selfish side of me hopes you have my smile. Don't tell her that, though. Let's wait until she sees it, because then she'll never be able to say no to you. I figured out that secret ages ago."

He couldn't wait until her personality started to shine through. Would she try to get her way by being clingy like he does? Or would she give him puppy-dog eyes like you do? If it was a mixture of both, he would have a troublemaker on his hands.

"Anyway," Harry said with an exhale, "I brought you out here because this beach is where we'll spend lots of time together. Dad has special memories here. My favorite is when I proposed to your mother. After she said yes, we ran into the ocean without knowing where life would take us." His eyes became glossy, a film of tears threatening to escape his waterline. "I'm so glad it brought us you. I'm so, so glad."

As morning eased its way into full effect, he looked back at the house where years of love resided. Why not add some more?

——

#harry styles blurb #harry styles imagine #harry styles x reader #harry styles fluff #harry styles fanfic #dadrry #dad!harry #dilfrry #harry styles #adore-laur #the first day home

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thatone-brightstar · 2 years ago

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ohhhhh bestie The Bear & The Fox got me GOOD, more please!!!

The Bear & The Fox (Carmy Berzatto x Fem!Reader)

Chapter 2: Like a fox caught in the headlights

Words: 5.7k

Summary: After four weeks at The Beef, you've learnt some valuable lessons. Finding Carmy adorable is the most dangerous one.

a/n: Because I am nothing if not a people pleaser, here's the second chapter for that one person that asked lol Enjoooy xx

P.S. Reader is Latina in this, so there will be some spanish lessons.

After a full four weeks at The Beef, you had realized a couple of valuable lessons. Subs and sandwiches were not the same, and Richie had a very strong opinion about the “uncultured jackasses” that confused them, Tina was nicer than everyone gave her credit for (though it probably helped that both your mother and her had gone to the same high school together) and lastly; Carmy being a decent person would be more counter effective than you anticipated. Especially when you learned that your building was about four blocks away from his and that he drove Richie’s car, because the other had his license suspended for parking on a handicap spot while buying cigs.

It had been completely accidental and not at all your intention, but on your sixth day after closing and when your idiot brother had forgotten to pick you up, you naively thought it would be fine to walk thirty three minutes to get home. The L was not an option as the last time you had taken it, someone stole your access card and it would take at least a month to get a new one. So you and your uncomfortable platform sneakers were stuck for at least another half hour until you could make it home. Or so you thought.

Ten minutes after leaving The Beef, with your jacket zipped all the way up to avoid the harsh late March wind, you had fallen into a comfortable pace. You’d normally wear your headphones to tune out the city sounds, but it was almost 11pm and the fear of getting jumped was enough to keep you alerted of your surroundings. The last thing you needed right now was a shiv to the throat. However, for a Sunday night, the streets were livelier than you had expected. People congregated outside bars and the family owned pizzerias that remained open past midnight to feed the night owls, stoners and drunks. You admired the checkered table cloths they used and added the image to the folder in your mind under ‘shit to make the beef less sad’ as you made your way down the blocks.

As you reached the crosswalk and waited for your turn, a dusty black car slowed its pace then stopped fully beside you. You brazed yourself for the usual catcalls or hollering while you kept your head forward, though the sweaty hand around your strap gave another impression.

“Hey!” You heard from the car once the window was down and you did your best to hold your tongue and not tell the asshole to just fuck right off, but when you heard him call your name, this time you turned surprised.

Carmy sat staring up at you through the cracked window, right hand already pushing the passenger door open and waiting for you to get in. There was a slight frown on his brow as you stood motionless looking at him because he was the last person you expected to see and also holy fuck, did that blue jacket bring out the already magnificent color in his eyes. The sound of a horn blaring from behind you brought you back from the ridiculous turn your thoughts were taking and you cleared your throat climbing into the warm vehicle. He sat staring at your profile as you took your bag off and placed it between your feet on the car floor, then pushed your hair behind both ears to clear your face and smile towards him.

A small ‘Hey’ was thrown in his direction and the warmth in your skin subsided once his gaze was no longer resting on you.

“You weren’t planning on walking, were you?” He asked, concerned.

“Would it be so bad if I say yes?” You ask back a bit ashamed. “It’s not that far.” you try to justify, playing with your fingers.

He asked you where you lived and when you told him the location, the car stopped in its tracks almost comically, although it would have been if he hadn’t stared at you with such a bewildered expression.

“That’s like an hour by foot!” He scolded, putting the car back in motion and merging successfully into the main road.

“No, it's like.. thirty minutes at most!” You fought back. “Besides, it’s not like I do it daily, my fucking brother just forgot to pick me up tonight.”

“Your brother the carrot?” He asked, now smiling softly.

A breathy almost giggle left your mouth as you turned to him. “Yeah, the carrot.”

That’s when he told you that it was fine if you ever needed a ride back because he lived in the same area anyway. ‘You can ask for help, you know’ He said, ‘It’s better than putting yourself in danger’. And you could have just left it at that, your boss being a decent human being. But the warmth of the car, the lowness of his voice and the sweet humming of a folk song playing in the radio, had your head swimming with scenarios that grew too quickly for you to stop them, even though you knew you had to.

He dropped you at the door of your building with a ‘Goodnight.’ and ‘Sleep well’, and as you climbed every step towards the fifth floor, you were reminded of the unspoken rule you had with yourself: No in-work relationships. No dating coworkers. No messing around.

No matter how funny, how nice, how hot or how lost you could get in the pool in their eyes.

That’s how your routine came to be. At least until Richie got his license back, which you secretly hoped was not anytime soon. You’d finish closing up front, take your bag from the office and wait for Carmy out back until he was done scrubbing clean every surface of the stainless steel kitchen. Sometimes you’d wait inside too, disguising it behind wanting to keep him company but in actuality you were just afraid someone would creep on you from the dark while alone outside. The car ride would consist of meaningless chatter on music, movies and on who won the prize to “Shitty customer of the day”, and on your way up home you’d repeat the same mantra for each step. As many times as it took for your beating heart to slow and for your skin to cool down before reaching your door.

***********

Carmy hated to admit it, even to himself, but it was evident from afar how accustomed he had become to your presence, enough that it affected him on your day off. It was ridiculous really, how off his game he was. Calling out wrong orders, oversalting the broth and even burning his hand with a metal handle he had forgotten over the fire. Tina snickered when she heard a ‘Fuck!’ behind her, followed by the clinging of metal falling to the ground.

“You good, Jeff?” She asked teasingly, looking over her shoulder at the chef running his hand under the faucet. “She’ll be back tomorrow, you know?”

He didn’t answer, he knew better than to do so because everything in that place could be used against him. She was right though, you’d be back tomorrow, you always were. On your first day off after being hired, he had spent the whole day doubting if you would be back the next, thinking about having to put the help wanted sign up again made his already unstable stomach worse. Then you showed up unexpectedly during the small break with a box of pastries you had made as a thank you for the team, each decorated with little edible flowers and colorful glossy coats. He had secretly snapped a picture of his, before biting into the heated crust, his stomach had welcomed the delicious warmth of food for the first time all day and the feeling followed him around during the rest of his shift.

On your third day off, you had brought your mother for dinner on a slow night. Your cheeks had gone up in flames when she let him know just how much you talked about the mouthwatering food served at The Beef and the wonderful people working there, before yelling something in spanish to Tina and leaving you both alone in comfortable silence.

“So you think our food’s delicious?” He asked with a teasing smile and bumping his shoulder against yours. You stood side by side while watching the two older women catch up in the kitchen like a sort of family reunion. Carmy normally didn’t let strangers into his kitchen, he was protective like that, but strangely for you, he was glad to make an exception.

“Of course I do!” you said with an embarrassed laugh. “You’re a great cook, chef,” You said sincerely and his eyes shone brighter than ever under the fluorescent lights. “You’re just too busy noticing your own faults to see it.”

Your mother had called for you and a part of him was glad she did, because he did not know how he would have resisted leaning down into your soft lips after such a beautiful confession. They didn’t charge for dinner, and no matter who you tried to give the bill to, no one would take it. ‘Orders from the boss’ they’d say grinning, and when you turned to the office, you saw a messy head of golden hair hide behind the door frame.

Now on your fifth day off, he wondered if you’d show up. He allowed himself a bit of delusion as he ran his injured hand under the tap, and imagined you arriving in one of those flared high waisted jeans you liked to wear. He stared at his hand and thought of what it would feel like to caress your cheek with it, your soft skin against his calloused one, doe eyes staring lovingly up at his as he held you closely between his arms… Fuck, okay,no this is weird, he thought. He should not be thinking of you like this and if they had anything similar to an HR department, this would definitely be a violation of some sort. And that’s not even talking about the wild scenarios his mind would make up late at night when he couldn’t get any sleep.

Even though it was just in his mind and no one else could see inside his little fucked up brain, it was still wrong. Especially when he knew you couldn’t feel the same. You were just being nice, he’d remind himself. That’s who you were. And he was being a pervert and a terrible boss by assuming otherwise. He had to get his shit right and his priorities straight, saving the fucking Beef from ruin was the first. He had to leave his stupid lovesick scenarios for when he could finally give his tired body a rest.

He pulled himself out from the rubble of his thoughts, turned the water off and dried his hands on the white rag hanging from his surprisingly clean apron. Then he made his way back to the station and continued on dinner prep with the usual automated performance he had trained so hard to cultivate. This he knew, this was familiar and precise and gave no space for errors or misinterpretations. This was his. Him. No doubt, insecurity or fear of reciprocation. A vegetable was still a vegetable no matter how he felt towards it, and he still had to be your superior no matter how he felt towards you.

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

“I don’t know which one to get!” You hummed through the phone resting between your shoulder and cheek as your hands were busy comparing the very similar fabrics in front of you.

You hear Sydney groan exasperated through the line and you can clearly picture her rolling her eyes at you.

“Just pick whichever! It’s not like anyone will notice the difference anyway.” She answered, and you can hear a light buzz of noise from her side.

“I’ll notice.” You mumbled back.

In your defense and to your well color-trained eye, they were very different. While the design was the same, checkered style pattern with white, they both had negative spaces of different shades of blue, one slightly darker than the other. You were leaning towards the softer baby blue, but it wasn’t the right shade. It was the third craft store you visited and none seemed to carry the specific type of blue you were in search for. It was a stretch because you were sure that shade’s only purpose was to exist between tired eyelids and golden lashes, but you were too stubborn and you had to at least try to find something similar.

“I’m sure people will just be happy to not eat directly on the plastic tables. Bring the one you like best.” Syd said after a moment of silence.

“Ugh, I guess.” You finished, finally deciding on the baby blue material.

You walked around the art supply section and picked out the things you were there for originally, a few tubes of oil paints, paint sealant, a detailing brush and a new spatula were what you checked from your list. It wasn’t your intention to buy more than that, but the sight of the shiny fabric at the end of the aisle had you dialing Syd’s number and asking if she thought Carmy would mind if you bought things for the restaurant with your own money. You were planning to anyway, but the reassurance was nice. ‘Anything that comes from you is okay with him’ she had said and a fuzzy feeling bloomed in your chest.

“We’re still on for drinks later, right?” She asked while you scanned everything through the self checkout.

“Yeah, I’m just gonna drop all this shit off today, go home and change and meet you outside after closing.” You mentally groaned at all the back and forth you’d have to do but it was better than carrying everything home then back to The Beef the next day.

Also, you had secretly taken a liking to dropping by unexpectedly to “say hi”. You were never the kind of person to go to your place of work on your off day, you never understood those people because, why be there six days of the week then go back on your off when you could literally go anywhere else? But The Beef had felt more like a home than a job ever had for you. It was warm and inviting, and you understood why there were so many regulars who still bought their daily sandwich after so many years. It felt nice to work for a place that was more for the people than the prestige. It was a breath of fresh air in a world surrounded by how ridiculous you could make a dish and still have it be considered food.

“You sure it’s not just cause you wanna see a certain broody someone?” Syd asked teasingly, pulling you from your thoughts.

You stayed silent on the line and that was enough of a confirmation for Sydney to burst into laughter from the other side.

You spat a ‘Shut up.’ and hung up on her mid laugh, cheeks ablaze.

After leaving the store, you walked the fifteen minutes to The Beef with your headphones on and carrying your bag of supplies in blissful peace. You liked days like these, the sun shining softly through the clouds, the air fresh and crisp and your heart light in your chest. The beat of the music coordinated with your steps on the sidewalk as you made your way through the industrial looking streets, letting your mind roam to its recent favorite topic of wild messy hair and freckle dusted skin. Syd’s words were still fresh in your mind, but also was the rule you had been repeating to yourself more than usual.

Each time he did something nice, you had to convince yourself that that’s just the way he was and to stop reading into something that wasn’t there. Every time you caught him looking was justified by him just spacing out and you being in the general direction of his gaze. The free dinner was him being kind, the rides home were him being decent and the sweet smiles as you crossed the kitchen towards the steward section were… Your doom, honestly.

Every time you made your way across with empty plates, even if it was only for a brief second, he snuck a peek from his bowed position over the expo, then smiled loosely back down. The first time you had caught his stare, you had carelessly dropped the dishes on Angel and into the muddy water then rushed out the back door because the space around you had become insufferably hot. The image had replayed like a broken record all day, rewinding in the exact moment his ocean eyes bore into yours like waves crashing against a rocky coast. It was criminal. And you would take to your grave how the memory had fueled the fire in your lower belly on the nights when you couldn’t get any sleep. Just remembering brought back the familiar ache between your thighs and you quickened your steps to relieve the sensation. Fucking hell, had it really been that long? It probably had been because you couldn’t remember the last time you got laid, or even been kissed for that matter. No wonder you were so wound up over a simple look.

‘That's it’, you thought. ‘I’m just hormonal and it’s causing my stupid brain to confuse horniness with like. Nothing more’ So on the last block to The Beef you made up your mind: you were going to find a stranger to sleep with that night, then this whole Carmy situation would die down and you would see it with clear eyes for what it really was, Carmy just existing and you being a pervert for misinterpreting anything he did.

You took a deep breath as you pushed the glass door to find an empty restaurant and you assumed everyone was taking a well needed break in the back before the dinner rush. You pulled your headphones off and made your way into the familiar hallway that led from the front, past the walk in and into the office. Your plan was to drop the bag off and head right out, you'd see everyone after closing anyway, but just as you left everything by the foot of the crowded desk and turned to leave, a tall shadow standing by the door made you jump back startled.

“Jesus fuck, Carmy!” You yelled at him with a hand against your thumping chest. He stared at you with a contained smile and it was hard not to smile back. “Was that payback?!” You asked, still trying to control your breathing.

“For what?” He asked innocently and entered the small office space. In the reduced area, his broad shoulders looked bigger and the thumping in your ears was no longer from the fright. “What's that?” He asked, pointing to the bag you had discarded on the ground.

“Oh, um…” God, why are you so nervous? “It's just some stuff I got for the front. Tablecloths and napkins and… stuff.” You answered by playing with your hands. You didn’t want him to be upset even though Syd had assured you it would be fine.

He crouched down towards the bag and rummaged around inspecting the insides.

“I was planning on putting it on the tables in the dining area… I hope that’s okay?” You added after what felt like minutes of silence.

“No, that- that’s really nice of you. Thank you, chef.” He said, looking up at you.” You bought this with your own cash?”

“Yeah.. but it’s no problem, truly. I just really fuckin’ hate those Starbucks napkins.” You joked and he sniggered while straightening up.

He scanned you with amused brows and for the first time all day you felt self conscious of your choice in clothing, or lack of choice.

You had been home all day working on a panting in the makeshift studio you had created in your living room. Your grandfather had helped you set up an easel and some drawers near the windows with the most natural lighting as a fun hobby at sixteen, and almost ten years later, the space had become a sort of sanctuary during stressing times or just when you needed to clear your head. Half the house was now covered with your creations, mostly paintings, but also a few sculptures from that time you tried to experiment with clay and almost blew up your mother’s oven.

That morning, you had been working on a piece centered around a stormy sea and a boat adrift, headphones on and too far gone into your own head, when you realized you had squeezed out the last drop of teal paint from the little tube. You could have just mixed and matched until the shade was correct, but your back protested when you finally unhooked your left leg from under you and that was a loud enough sign that you needed to move from the uncomfortable wooden stool you had spent hours on. So without changing from the paint covered overalls, cliche sure but cute, you thought, you pulled your sneakers on then kissed your grandpa goodbye and closed the door behind you.

Now as you stood in front of Carmy, a baggy mess of dried colors, trying to rack your brain for an explanation, you noticed just how bad of an idea it had been. You felt like a kindergartener’s discarded art project, and fuck’s sake, the two space buns at the bottom of your neck were certainly not helping. You scratched the back of your head nervously, trying to avoid his teasing gaze, then rested your hand flat on the desk to turn fully towards him.

“I was painting, okay?” You mumbled and for a second you felt like a kid getting caught doing something bad. It also didn’t help that he was older than you and a dark part of your screwed up brain searched for his approval.

“I would hope so.” He answered between a breathy laugh.

It was an involuntary move from his part, down right impertinent. Something he would never do in a million years, especially to a woman while they stood alone in a closed space with less than a foot between their chests. But his hand was already half way up when he realized what his body was doing, his gaze too caught on the light strip of cyan paint above your brow to realize how your breath had gotten stuck in your throat and your pupils had swallowed your irises whole. His cold fingers feathered away the slight bangs that framed your face and as his skin made contact with yours for the very first time since you met, an electrified chill ran from the base of your neck, down through every nerve ending exposed to the air and causing bumps to rise along your skin. It was completely innocent, but the contrast in temperature, combined with the close proximity and the emotions you had tried to sweep under the rug, had your heart in a whirlpool dropping down to the depths of your stomach. The bubble of air in your throat didn’t know whether to go up or down, so you simply stayed still as he gently rubbed his forefinger against your temple. Your mouth felt dry and your eyebrows were screwed together in a mixture of angst and anticipation. You felt like a fox caught in the headlights, treading carefully around the hunter.

Your eyes drooped mindlessly to his parted lips and the voice in the back of your head whispered how easy it would be to stand on your toes and close the small distance separating you. The hand resting on the desk had curled around the edge and you knew your knuckles had turned white from the force of your grip. It felt like time had stopped altogether, only your echoing heartbeat was the telltale of the seconds passed. You dragged your eyes slowly back up his features until they stuck to the warm icy blue and you could feel his thumb unconsciously rubbing slow circles.

‘It would be so easy.’ you both thought.

His face was a whisper away, yet it felt like a dessert separated you from the only body of water you wanted to desperately bathe in. Just one swim wouldn’t hurt, right? No one would know it happened. A one and done situation. ‘Just to get you out my system.’ you thought. Or rather whispered.

“What?” Carmy mumbled confused.

Fuck.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

You pulled back, blinking rapidly to control the panic beginning to bubble in your veins. Fuck! You tried to settle your eyes anywhere except on him while you struggled to decipher what the actual hell you were going to let happen. From your peripheral vision, you could tell he was also disoriented by the way he pulled his hand down his face, stopping to cup his mouth with strength as if not trusting what could come out of it.

“I-I” Your voice sounded foreign, barely above a whisper. “I’m gonna go…um-” You swallowed the bubble of air and wrapped your arms around yourself with your eyes trained on the ground, trying to pass by Carmy without touching, as if the simple contact could sting your already sensitive skin.

He reached his hand towards you and called your name. “No- shit, wait I-”

“Hi, mija!” You heard and both of you instantly turned to where Tina stood by the door to the walk in.

She made her way to you and you tried your best to swallow the batch of tick saliva that comes before the bile and smiled. You pulled her into a hug and kissed her left cheek out of tradition.

“Hey, just came to drop off some things.” You spoke as nonchalantly as one can when you’re on the verge of a breakdown.

“Good, then you can save me the trip and give your mom this.” She said while handing you a small roll of five dollar bills. “It’s for the tanda. Tell her my number’s up next week, eh?” She caressed your cheek softly then turned to Carmy with a doubtful look. “You look like you saw a ghost.”

“I’ll give it to her.” You interrupted and threw the money without care inside your tote bag, turned to Carmy one last time, then marched through the hallway and out the glass door.

You didn’t stop until you knew you were at a distance safe enough to crash. You leaned against the bricks of a nearby flower shop and closed your eyes because, even though you had never fainted before, this felt very much how people describe it could feel. Your whole head was on the edge of explosion along with your ribcage and throat. Your mouth was dry and wet at the same time, and the simple feeling of saliva on your tongue was enough to have you gagging with your forehead against the wall.

“Okay, get your shit together.” You whispered to yourself between heavy sniffles.

Breathe. Hold. Release. Again. Breathe. Hold. Release. Again. With as much strength as you could manage, you pulled on the long sleeves of your shirt and wiped the trail of salty water beginning to slide past your cheeks. Breathe. The last thing you needed was to have a panic attack in the middle of the street, so even as your vision blurred at the edges and your chest heaved from the lack of air, you did your best to hail a cab. With the first strike of luck in the past ten minutes, a yellow car pulled by your side and you wasted no time in getting in. With little control left, you told him your address and as he drove in the direction of your house, the grimy restaurant street sign grew smaller in the rear view mirror and the single thread that kept your fumbling heart together finally tore.

You arrived home in a numbed state, your body felt drained after going through so many emotions in a short period of time and you were glad everyone was out because how could you explain the absolute shitshow you had stupidly put yourself through the last hour? You dragged your feet across the wooden floor of the hallway that led into the living room, dropped your bag over the island in the kitchen and headed straight into your bedroom. As soon as the soft fabric of the covers wrapped around you like a protective cocoon, the dam in your chest broke open and a nasty sob left your lips.

God, how could you ruin this so catastrophically?! How were you going to show your face at work after this? You could just imagine Carmy telling everyone how you had come onto him in his office and a new wave of tears rushed to your eyes. The first job you actually liked in years and you ruin it by almost kissing your fucking boss! ‘What the hell is wrong with me?!’

‘In our defense, he came onto us first’, the voice in your head tried to rationalize.

The intimate clip played back in your mind’s eye from a third’s perspective, like a movie scene you’ve watched a thousand times in the past half hour. ‘It can’t be completely my fault, right?’ You ask yourself, analyzing his expression through your memories. It had to mean something, you don’t just look at anyone like that.

“Fuck!” You yelled exasperated and rubbed the palm of your hands against your tired eyes.

You pulled your phone from your pocket and opened up Syd’s contact on the message app, ready to write an excuse as to why you needed to cancel. But as your fingers hovered over the keyboard, a part of your brain wondered if you really wanted to. It would make no use to brood in your own self pity for the rest of the day, and maybe the therapeutic process of getting ready to go out would help clear your head and let you see the situation in a better light. Also, you still had a plan to see through and after the day’s events, your skin had been left itching for contact, no matter where it came from.

So instead of canceling, you texted Sydney that you’d meet them at the bar instead, then spent the next ten minutes looking for a playlist that would inspire you for as long as your ritual would last.

**********

The hellscape of a day was finally over and Carmy had never been more grateful. After the last order had been served, he retreated into the office without a word to anyone and had been sitting staring at the same spot since. Thankfully no one knew what had him in such a distasteful mood and he was sure as hell that it was going to stay that way. They didn’t need to know how he had scared you away with his impulsive actions or that he was to blame if you stopped showing up without explanation. The team had barely started to respect him and knowing that he had borderline harassed everyone’s favorite waitress would have him catching a punch or two.

‘Just to get you out my system.’

Your voice repeated like an echo bouncing off the walls in his skull as he tried to make sense of the words, but no matter how many times he flipped them around and rearranged them, he still didn't know what they meant. Was he in your system? Was he really so dense, that he hadn’t noticed you felt something for him, or was he reading too much into an inexistent situation?

His fingers tingled at the memory of your soft warm skin against them, the way your eyebrows had knit together while you stared at him with the most wide eyes he had ever seen and how you had unconsciously parted your lips when your eyes flickered towards his. Fuck, he really was an idiot. You were probably the first woman he had looked at with such adoration and he had to go and screw it up with his lack of control and stupidness.

He layed back in his chair and ran his cold hands through his hair, eyes trained on the dimly lit ceiling above him. An exasperated breath left his chest and he closed his eyes, scanning his brain for a solution to what should be the least of his worries in an office surrounded by expired bills and accounts that made zero sense. ‘What’s one more thing to worry about, right?’ He breathed out a laugh.

He heard a knock from the slightly opened door and turned to see Marcus staring down at him.

“Yo, chef?”

“Yo” He answered back.

“We’re all done with housekeeping’. Some of us are gonna go grab drinks and we wanna know if you wanna hang.” He stayed silent for a second. “You kinda look like you had a shitty day.” He sniggered.

He could always trust Marcus to tell the truth.

Carmy suppressed a laugh and leaned into his desk, taking a pen in his hand and playing with it. “Nah, thanks chef. I’m gonna catch up on some stuff here. You have fun though.”

Marcus nodded slowly, looking around the desk until his eyes landed on the bag of fabric laying on the ground. “Bet.” He said then smiled slowly. “She’s gonna be there. Jus’ so y’know.” And with a pat on the doorframe, he signaled his exit.

He leaned against his chair again and stared at the space Marcus had stood in, contemplating his options. If he went, there was a high possibility you didn’t wanna see him. But this could also be his only chance to get things cleared out and maybe convince you to not quit because of his actions. Granted, a bar was not the place to talk and definitely not his scene, but if that’s what he had to do to convince you to stay then so be it. He took a couple calming breaths to ease his heart at the idea of possibly even telling you how he felt, if you were gonna leave, might as well take the info with you, right? It’s not rejection if you were already gonna split.

“Fuck it.” He threw the pen at the mess of papers and the old chair creaked as he stood forcefully, then pulled his jacket from the back along with his keys from their hook by the entrance and followed the rowdy chanting of his youngest employees walking in a line out the busted back door and into the night.

Chapter 3.

#carmen berzatto x reader #the bear & the fox #carmen berzatto x you #the bear fx #carmy berzatto #carmy the bear #carmy x reader #carmy smut #the bear tv #carmy berzatto headcanon #the bear headcanon #carmy berzatto imagines #carmy berzatto fluff #carmen berzatto smut #carmy berzatto smut #carmen 'carmy' berzatto #carmy x poc reader

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independencevans · 1 year ago

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Shop Used Handicapped Vehicle For Sale In Michigan

If you are looking for a used handicapped vehicle in Michigan, then visit Independencevans.com/.

Website: independencevans.com/

#HandicappedVehicleForSaleInMichigan #Used Handicapped Vehicle For Sale In Michigan

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moetrash · 3 months ago

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rsv marriage candidates and whether they can drive

why? bc i'm bored... feel free to send me any other prompts if you have them!

alissa: no, but she occasionally drives her dad's truck around the orchard for chores.

anton: yes, but his car has been broken down for months now, and instead of getting it fixed, he's just been mooching rides off his siblings.

blair: nope! she just gets her mom or sean to drive her places instead~

bryle: absolutely - he's certified to drive cars, trucks, motorcycles, and armored vehicles.

corine: yep! feel free to call her if you ever need a ride, okay? :) (seriously, you can call her at like 3 am and she'll be there, no questions asked.)

daia: no, but luckily she's a master at guilting people into offering her rides - the world is her uber.

faye: got her license only recently after having hired drivers most of her life... she's the type to obliviously cut across three lanes of highway traffic to her exit with a bumper sticker that says "silly goose on board".

flor: yes, when she has to... but if anyone honks at her she *will* pull onto the shoulder to cry

ian: no - he can't pass the written test...

irene: yes, and she's also an avid collector of cute bumper stickers! this one is a strawberry with a smiley face!

jeric: well, he has his motorcycle license... why, you want a ride? ;)

jio: jio doesn't know what cars are.

june: um, no? what do you take him for, a str*ight???

kenneth: yes, but he's more interested in building motor vehicles than driving them...

kiarra: yup. she drives an old subaru outback with a zillion bumper stickers that say stuff like "support your local pollinators" and "no human being is illegal". oh, and her car's name is sally ride.

maddie: yes... but she road-rages like overworked ex-military trucker. do not ride with her unless you've made your peace with god.

paula: not only does she have her license, she's one of the best drivers you'll ever meet. (years of driving MEVs across gotoro battlefields will give you that.)

philip: yes - his dream car is the incredicar, as seen in the first movie adaptation of incrediman, "incrediman vs. the royal serpent" - but right now he drives a handicap-accessible minivan, yknow, for work...

sean: yeah, he has a truck he can use for work stuff - but don't look in the backseat. it's littered with empty gatorade bottles and fruit gummy bags.

shiro: no... but he used to...

ysabelle: nope. hashtag corine's passenger princess 4 lyfe ^^

zayne: a license? like the chauffeurs have? why would he need that??

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jumpywhumpywriter · 4 months ago

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"The Lost Hero" - Crippled Hero Presumed Dead part 1

Warnings: crippled hero, hero with disabilities, retired hero, reluctant hero, near-death experience, reluctant rescue

***I don't see nearly enough of heroes with seriously traumatic, permanent injuries in writing. Like, not just classic scarring, but the kind that sticks with them every day and impacts everything from the way they move to their confidence levels. Physically handicapping kind of old wounds. Maybe they just didn't heal right, who knows. Anyways I decided to write what I've always wanted to see! Enjoy!! 👇👇

The last time Hero was seen alive was 5 whole years ago, in her final battle with Supervillain. But it had gone so terribly wrong. They had been fighting in the bottom level of a skyscraper Supervillain had rigged to blow, unbeknownst to Hero. Supervillain tried to escape the building, leave Hero to die when the bombs exploded, but Hero had been fighting too hard, keeping him from leaving. And so, the bombs went off, and the skyscraper collapsed... right on top of the two most famous figures in the city, crushing them. Supervillain's body was found a day later... but Hero was never located, though she was presumed dead after the horrific accident. Her final sacrifice to save the city.

After Hero’s death, the city was in shock. There had been years of peace and safety won by Hero's noble sacrifice… Before New Supervillain came along. With no hero to protect the city, New Supervillain easily took over, working his way through the government until he was in total control of the people and businesses, forcing them to bend under his tyrannical rule. Anyone who stood against him would be executed on the spot.

5 years later after Hero’s sacrifice...

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

Logan was a 15 year old boy who was hurrying home, mind abuzz with typical teenager thoughts as he weaved his way through the crowded city streets, when he stepped into the street to cross without looking for traffic. A loud horn blared, and he froze with terror at seeing the two large semi truck headlights bearing down on him, paralyzed with panic.

There was no way the huge truck could stop in time. Logan's instincts screamed at him to run, to move for crying out loud, but his feet were rooted to the spot, muscles locking up with fear, trapping him in place as the truck's brakes screeched and squealed on the asphalt, doing little to slow its momentum.

Logan's breath hitched, terrified as he braced himself for the inevitable impact -- but something else collided with him a millisecond before the truck did, slamming into him from the side with enough force to knock the breath from Logan's lungs, tackling him. Strong arms wrapped around him, and he sucked in a gulping gasp of air as he hit the ground hard, a blast of pain zinging through the arm he'd tried to use to catch himself.

His body suddenly tingled as though he'd just been zapped by a strange static electric shock, and he blinked in surprise to find himself staring up at a woman's face who was practically sprawled on top of him, her eyes filled with muted panic and fear. And worry. She was wearing a black hooded cloak that shrouded her features in darkness, but he still caught a glimpse of those piercing blue eyes before she turned her face away, pushing herself off of him with a grunt.

Logan sat up, dazed, looking around to see a small crowd gathering, gawking at him with concerned faces as the semi-truck driver hopped out of his vehicle to check on him. The driver was saying something frantic to him, probably apologizing profusely, but Logan was still wrapping his head around the fact that he'd almost died, that the strange woman had tackled him out of the way at the last second to save him.

As the woman stepped away from him, her eyes flicked over his prone form, lingering on his now-bloody arm from where he'd hit the edge of the concrete sidewalk. Then, without even saying a single word, she pulled the hood further down over her face and turned, walking briskly away with a slight limp, despite appearing uninjured. She wasn't sticking around as Logan became the center of attention, everyone asking if he was okay.

Logan glanced down at his shirt, blood going cold as ice as he noticed the slightly singed cloth where the stranger's arms had wrapped around him. It couldn't possibly be... could it?

Bystanders helped him to his shaky feet, checking him over while others called an ambulance, but Logan wasn't listening. "I-I'm fine!" He hastily blurted, snapping out of his state of shock and pulled himself away from the worried hands, pushing through the small crowd to chase after his unexpected hero. He needed to thank her... as well as sate his hopeful curiosity.

He barely caught a glimpse of the edge of her black cloak disappearing around a corner, stumbling in his stride before catching his balance as he raced to catch up. Shouts from concerned people called after him, but he ignored them.

Logan skidded around the corner, darting into the dark alleyway the stranger had slipped into. "Wait!" He cried as he finally spotted the hooded figure. He ran up before she could escape, tugging at her cloak to snatch her attention.

The stranger flinched and yanked the edge of her cloak from his hands, whirling around but still slightly turned away.

"I didn't get to thank you," Logan panted breathlessly. "If you hadn't been there--" his voice caught in his throat, and he realized he was trembling all over, adrenaline still coursing through his veins. The woman just nodded in acknowledgment, still unusually silent, before turning to keep walking.

"W-Wait! I need to ask something--"

The stranger paused in her step, but didn't turn to face him.

"My shirt... did you burn it?" Logan knew how it must have sounded, such an out of the blue, unusual question. But the woman's reaction was the exact one he was looking for, as she stiffened, going rigid. His mind reeled with dawning realization.

"You... You're Hero, aren't you?" Logan breathed hopefully, said like more of a statement than a question. Hero was the only one he ever knew of who could do that, who had the ability to control electricity. Who could burn without a flame. And who could have been fast enough to cross the street and tackle him out of the way before he was hit.

The stranger finally turned and reached up and pressed something shiny and metal stuck to her neck, a tiny blue light appearing before she opened her mouth for the first time.

"No... I'm not," a raspy voice sounded, hoarse and wheezy. "You've got the wrong person." Her hand dropped from her neck, and she pointedly turned away. But Logan darted around in front of her to block the path, his eyes huge with excitement and wonder.

"No way... You're alive? The whole city thinks you're dead!" He gasped. Her reaction all but confirmed it. It had to be Hero, the same hero that has disappeared five solid years ago, never seen again.

Hero was presumed dead after an intense battle with Supervillain that went down all those years ago. Supervillain had killed several heroes in the past, leaving Hero as the only one strong enough to face him. He was notoriously well-known for being dangerous and lethal.

The ensuing superpowered battle had leveled several whole blocks, and ended with the destruction of a skyscraper from a bomb Supervillain had intended to use to kill Hero, the last surviving hero in the city. But he'd been trapped in the building with Hero when the structure collapsed prematurely. Supervillain's body was found buried in the rubble a day later. But Hero's never was.

The woman's blue eyes were wide with surprise but tinged with sadness and guilt, before she shook her head grimly, pressing the side of her neck again. Maybe a nervous habit, or something more?

"No... Hero died in the accident, just like the news stations stated. Hero doesn't exist anymore. So leave me alone. I saved you because I just happened to be fast enough. Adrenaline gives you that kind of strength." She brushed off the accusation, reasoning with him. Her shoulders sagged, and she took a step away from Logan. "Go away, kid... there's no hero here."

The words hurt like a dagger to the chest. Logan was so sure this was Hero -- but if she was, why hide for so long? Why let the city fall into chaos under New Supervillain's rein? Why not stand up and fight the new evil?

"What are you so scared of?" Logan challenged. "I mean, you're Hero, you've taken down endless criminals and villains before. Why did you disappear for so long? Why let New Supervillain win?"

"Like I said, kid... Hero doesn't exist anymore." The woman's voice was gruff with a tone of finality, and her sharp blue eyes dropped to Logan’s arms, where blood was streaming down in scarlet rivulets.

"You're hurt. Go see a doctor, get it patched up, and forget this ever happened. Okay? No one will believe you anyway if you tell them I'm alive. After all, you're seeing a ghost."

Logan clapped a hand over the gash in his arm -- the wound had started throbbing now that the adrenaline wore off. But then he looked back at Hero, jutting his chin up and giving her the fiercest glare he could muster. "I'm not going anywhere until you give me answers," he said stubbornly.

Hero pinched the bridge of her nose, muttering something incoherent under her breath, but there was no mistaking the tone of exasperation. Her hood hid her face, but he could have sworn her features were twisted with confliction, torn.

"Please, I want to know what happened," Logan tried, speaking a little softer, more pleadingly.

Hero let her hands drop to her side, and she glared right back at him with equal intensity. Logan jumped as sparks of electricity crackled in her hands, a threat of greater danger to come.

"I'll give you one last warning. Turn around and walk away, or I'll fry your brains out," she growled low in her throat, her voice deadpan and flat.

Logan's heart faltered for a beat with fear. Hero was certainly capable of following through with that threat. But he watched her body closely and could see her weight shifting uneasily on her feet. It was a bluff, a final attempt to scare him off.

"...Then I guess you'll have to fry my brains out," Logan croaked weakly. He was taking a risky gamble.

Hero stayed stiff for a few agonizingly long seconds, before caving, the electricity sizzling out as she sighed wearily. "Why do you even care?" She hissed in annoyance. "New Supervillain's already controlling the city. Sometimes it's better to just... tolerate it, rather than try to be a martyr and go against higher powers. Sometimes you have to go with the flow."

"Only dead fish go with the flow!" Logan retorted angrily. "What happened to fighting for justice, for peace?"

Hero didn't even argue, just let out a long breath. "That was a long time ago, kid. I'm not that hero, not anymore. Not since..." She cut herself off, clearing her throat awkwardly. "My point is, I'm done fighting. My hero days are behind me, and I plan to keep it that way.”

Logan gaped at her in disbelief. "You can't be serious! You're just going to let New Supervillain run this city however he wants and not lift a finger to stop it?!"

Hero nodded tiredly, but he didn't miss the fraction of hesitation that came before. It gave him a sliver of hope.

"Please, Hero... we need you," Logan practically begged.

Hero's eyes suddenly flared with hurt and anger, and her raspy voice rose to a quiet shout, though it was harsh and grating and strained. "I can't, kid! You don't understand, I don't want to be Hero anymore. Screw the city, no one was there to save me when every bone in my body was crushed, when I was choking on blood and dying in a collapsed skyscraper. I gave everything for the people, and all it brought me was pain and suffering and loss. So forgive me if I'm not too keen on taking more bullets for the sake of the citizens. I've given more than my fair share of effort into protecting people, many years of my life dedicated to it. They can save themselves for once."

"But--" Logan sputtered and floundered around his words, reeling.

Hero's eyes softened pityingly. "I'm truly sorry to crush your dreams of freedom, but it's not going to happen. The best advice I can give is to go home, live your life to its fullest. Chances are good you will never cross paths with New Supervillain in-person anyway; he's too busy and distracted ruling his new kingdom of a city."

"Can you at least tell me why?" Logan finally choked out, his voice cracking.

Hero hesitated, her eyes glancing around both ends of the shadowed alley on high alert before she stepped closer. "Fine. You want answers? Come with me. It's... not safe to talk around here." Her voice dropped low and quiet, and without another word, she headed off.

Logan's heart skipped a beat with apprehension mixed with excitement to be trailing after such a legendary figure. Although, she wasn't anything like he'd ever expected. Far from the powerful Hero he'd seen pictures of in the newspapers five years ago, or that he'd caught glimpses of in villain battles.

He followed in silence as Hero traveled through the back alleys, navigating them with resolve and purpose in each step -- though Logan couldn't get his mind off her uneven, almost lurching gait. Subtle, but noticeable, like slightly favoring one leg, or limping.

Eventually Hero stopped in front of a large blue dumpster, suddenly appearing alert and edgy as she scanned around for any unwanted eyes. Then, satisfied that they were alone, she braced her shoulder against the side of the dumpster and pushed against it with her supernatural strength, scooting it to the side with a loud scraping sound.

Then she tapped the wall of the brick building the dumpster had been against before gripping around one of the bricks, pulling off what Logan realized was a false cover made to look exactly like the brick surrounding it. He took a surprised half-step back at seeing the square hole that was revealed, like some kind of creepy hidden tunnel.

"Down here's where I've been hiding out," Hero explained in her wheezing voice. "Follow close, and do not touch any of my stuff without permission. A lot of it is too dangerous for curious hands. Got it?"

Logan nodded eagerly, making note of her words. He watched as Hero crouched down to fit into the small space, disappearing into the dark. He shivered uneasily, but obediently followed her in. He tripped in surprise before realizing he was standing at the top of a staircase, and he felt his way down it with his feet, down into the unknown darkness. He could only hear the rustling of Hero's cloak in front of him as she descended into her underground hideout.

Then, the flip of a switch, and light flooded his vision. Logan winced and covered his eyes with a hand, waiting for them to adjust. He stared around with wide eyes at the room he found himself, taking it all in.

It wasn't as fancy or high-tech as he would have expected, in fact it was rather messy, a few tables cluttered with disorganized piles of various electronics and old devices, evidence of someone who likes to tinker.

Weapons lined the walls, wickedly sharp blades of all kinds along with dozens of others he had no idea how to use. Some junk papers and maps were scattered about randomly on both tables and floors, while others were pinned up on a corkboard in no recognizance order. It looked so strangely... normal, almost. Like a messy apartment room.

But one thing in particular snagged Logan's attention. Pinned up against the back wall, was Hero's hero suit, all mangled and covered in burn marks and dirt. Large holes were torn into the leather, evidence of a fierce fight. To be honest, it looked a lot like it had been through a paper shredder.

Hero strode over and sank into a chair sitting in front of one desk, and for the first time, pulled off the cloak and set it on down.

Logan barely stifled the horrified gasp that threatened to tear out of him. Hero's face was a mess of vicious scars like a messed-up tattoo spiderwebbing across her skin, that stretched all down her neck, and even her arms -- at least the parts that were visible from her short-sleeved shirt.

"...Are those all from the skyscraper accident?" Logan couldn't help asking. He felt insensitive for the question, but Hero answered regardless.

"Most of them are, but others... I got long before the fight with Old Supervillain." She winced at some phantom pain before her cold composure returned.

Logan stepped over to the nearest table, marveling at all the artifacts scattered thoughtlessly about. A loose dagger caught his attention, and he found himself instinctively reaching for it to get a better look, when Hero's stern voice cut in.

"What did I say about no touching?"

Logan instantly jerked his hand back, glancing apologetically at Hero. He thought for sure there was a flicker of amusement in her expression. Then his gaze darted back to the dagger. The blade looked rusty, but as he peered closer he realized that it was just crusted with dried red--oh.

Hero nodded to it, reading his thoughts. "That's the same blade I stabbed Old Supervillain with before the building came down on us both."

"Really?" Logan breathed in amazement. And the corner of Hero's mouth almost twitched up into a smile -- almost.

"Yes."

Logan stared wide-eyed at Hero, a dozen questions bouncing in his mind, but Hero held up a hand to keep him silent before he could pepper her with them.

"First, I assume you want to know why I can't fight New Supervillain?" She quirked an eyebrow, and he nodded vigorously.

Hero pointed to a small metal circle resting innocently against her skin, the one she’d pressed before speaking in the alley. "My vocal cords were crushed in the accident, I can't speak without this device in my throat keeping my entire throat from collapsing. I can control my voice's volume from the button on the side of my neck." Then she gestured to her leg, pulling up the cloth pant leg covering it to reveal giant, ragged scars torn down it, almost more scar tissue than normal flesh, a mangled mess of thick white lines and long-healed gashes and lacerations. That explained the limp Logan had noted.

"My leg is permanently ruined, shattered one too many bones in it when the building caved. It never quite healed right." She let out a humorless laugh. "What use is a crippled hero who can't talk on her own, can't even walk right, let alone fight? I'm done, kid. Retired. Go find someone else to stop Supervillain. Anyone but me." She rubbed her temples with her forefingers as though to soothe a headache.

"But you don't need to walk right to fight!" Logan blurted. "Can't you just, you know, use your powers to zap Supervillain?" He imitated shooting lightning from his fingertips, and that earned a quiet chuckle from Hero.

"It doesn't quite work like that. I need my agility, my skillset, my powers are worthless if I can't keep myself from being hit by whatever weapons Supervillain might have. I need to be able to move, to nimbly dodge. There's a lot more to fighting than just 'see enemy, and strike them'. But you're too young to know better."

"But there has to be something you can do!" Logan argued.

Hero leaned back in her chair with a bone-weary sigh. "It's a miracle I'm even alive at all, after what I went through five years ago. But the damage is permanent, there's nothing you can do to fix it. My body aches and hurts every day of my existence, I'd rather stay hidden away down here in my bunker than go fight another psychopath."

She laughed dryly, shaking her head. "And you know what's even worse? Villain is the one who dragged me out of the wreckage, who stitched me back together like some messed up jigsaw puzzle to keep me alive. And of course, he didn't do it for free." She tapped on the metal piercing her neck that led to the device in her throat. "This thing doesn't just give me my voice back, it's what's keeping me alive. It keeps my throat and airways open so I can breathe. Villain has a device that lets him control its functionality, which means he can snuff my life out on a whim if he wants, leave me drowning in air at any time, suffocating. He was a surgeon before he became a villain, so he knew how to set all my broken bones in place. There wasn't much he could do about my shattered leg, though. Too many bone fragments to piece together." Her gaze fell to the floor with shame.

"I'm only alive because Villain wanted me to be. He wanted to control me. Told me that if he ever needed my help for anything, I would do whatever he wanted or he would use his device to choke me out. Said it was a small favor for 'saving my life' after I fought Old Supervillain.” A bitter laugh escaped her. “I haven’t heard from Villain ever since he let me go, though, so clearly I'm not useful enough to be of any value yet, if he’s never bothered to call me to his aid.”

Hero leaned back in her chair, and Logan saw her visibly wince as the movement jarred her shredded leg.

“So what, you’re just going to spend the rest of your days wasting away down here?!” Logan blurted incredulously.

And to his utter astonishment, Hero merely nodded. There was no fight left in her hollow eyes, her defeated expression. Nothing but pain and exhaustion. “That's exactly what I’m doing,” she rasped tiredly. “Saves me a whole lot of suffering. Because the thing is, kid… you’re too innocent to understand what I've been through, and I'm too broken to remember what ‘peace’ is… there is nothing left for me to fight for. Right here in this bunker, I'm alive. No fighting, no patching myself up in the night – all I have to do here is exist. Doesn’t that sound nice?”

“It sounds lonely," Logan said pointedly. Hero shrugged.

“Some days are harder, when it's just Me, Myself, and I… But I've learned how to live with it.” She gestured to the staircase they'd come down earlier. “You’ve stayed here long enough. It's almost night, you should hurry home before your folks start to worry about you. At least you have someone who will notice when you're missing.” Logan didn't miss the hint of bitter wistfulness lacing Hero’s voice before she averted her gaze away from him.

Logan automatically went to the staircase, but paused at the bottom of it to turn back. “Hero?”

“Hmm?”

“...Thanks. For… For everything you've done, now and… before.”

Hero nodded sadly, and Logan headed up the stairs with a heavy heart to be greeted by the sharp sting of cold night air on his face as he stepped into the alley.

Logan's mind whirred the entire walk home, and the blood on his arm had already dried by the time he made it back. His excuse was that he'd tripped and fell after his parents questioned him. He cleaned himself up and headed to bed, slipping out of his shirt. He stared numbly down at the small singe marks in the cloth, replaying the rescue in his mind over and over again, letting the new knowledge sink in.

Hero was alive. And he was determined to find a way to bring her back, to give her the determination she needed to be the legendary hero she once was. It was up to him to change her mind, to get her to stand up for justice and freedom. He was already working on ideas of how to do that, and he knew just where to start as he flopped down into his bed for the night.

Hero might have lost faith in herself... but Logan certainly hadn't. And he would find a way to prove it.

This one sort of just popped in my head randomly, not sure if I should continue it or not. But hey, a crippled and half-mute hero who's given up fighting getting a reason to live again and get out of the ditch despite all the odds might be an interesting series, right???

Next ⏩️

Masterlist

@scoundrelwithboba @lumpofsand @isikedmyself878 @iamheretohurt @fleur-a-whump

@otterfrost @sausages-things

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teddy-bear-naps-and-random-snaps · 2 years ago

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anim-ttrpgs · 7 months ago

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Eureka: Investigative Urban Fantasy Playable Monster Popularity Contest

Alright the Kickstarter is launching on April 10th which at the time of writing this is in 2 days. The Kickstarter trailer for Eureka is going to be uploaded tonight or tomorrow, but it is still my job to do as much promotion as possible even though I am worried I might be running out of ideas. I still gotta post.

Let’s just have a Eureka playable monster popularity contest.

The vampire is not exactly your 20th and 21st century Hollywood vampire. They dont have super speed, don’t hypnotise people or make them thralls, and don’t instantly die when exposed to sunlight—though they are significantly weakened by it. The Vampire in Eureka is more of a 19th century and earlier folkloric vampire, with all the powers and weaknesses that come with that, including a compulsion to count things, an inability to enter homes uninvited, turning into a bat or other creatures, walking on sheer walls, etc. The vampire has almost no way of restoring their Composure except by drinking human blood, which means they will need to go on the prowl pretty often. Luckily, they never need to eat or sleep. They are also super strong, super stealthy, and resistant to all forms of physical damage—and they can only be killed permanently by ritual means.

The wolfman shares a lot of features with the vampire, such as super strength and resistance to all physical damage, and this is because they are a Hollywood wolfman. They can regain a little Composure through normal means, but if it ever runs out, they will transform involuntarily and go berserk. This is one of my favorite things about them honestly, and I can’t wait to see it actually happen in play. They’ll also involuntarily transform if they are exposed to the full moon, but that’s a lot more situational.

The witch is up next, and for all intents and purposes, they are pretty much a normal human, except for the ability to command curses and a variety of powerful spells. These curses can render victims violently ill, put them to sleep, turn them to stone, turn them into an animal, or reduce them in size. While witches can restore their Composure just as well as a mundane human, they can also do it by eating people, and the Composure drain of using their supernatural powers is much faster and harsher than any other monster. Oh, and one of my favorite things is that they can ride around on a broomstick or other flying vehicle.

The fairy is shares the ability to cast the same curses as the witch, and, optionally, the same spells, but they are also supernaturally charming, with a few other abilities unique to them. They cannot tell lies, but they can sure steal people’s names and other aspects of their identities, and/or spirit them away to the fairy world. Another interesting thing about them is that their Wealth skill gets a boost from being a fairy, and unlike anyone else, their Wealth skill can actually be capped by Composure just like any other skill.

Then finally the Thing from Beyond, which I will be abbreviating to TFB for the rest of this paragraph. The TFB is the most unique monster in the lineup, a large flat blanket of skin and teeth that can fold up into a human shape to interact with society. They can change the color, shape, and texture of their skin to mimic anyone they’ve studied long enough, right down to the outfit. Unlike other monsters, who get their Composure back one bit and victim at a time, TFBs engulf one person whole and slowly digest them over the course of a week, recovering 1 point of Composure each day. They can even have a body inside their human-shaped disguise and you wouldn’t even notice!

You can find out a lot more about these creatures and their powers by downloading the free Eureka: Investigative Urban Fantasy demo from our website and going to Chapter 8!

The vampire is really strong in combat and stealth, with a lot of powers to draw from, but is handicapped by far the most weaknesses.

The wolfman is a good combat powerhouse that isn’t quite a strong as the vampire in most cases, but doesn’t have to deal with as many weaknesses. Watch out though, if things get too intense, they could completely lose control of themselves and end up eating someone they weren’t supposed to!

The fairy is more a “face” character, with more tools at their disposal for convincing people to cooperate with them than ability to use force, though curses do definitely fall under “use of force”, I suppose.

The witch is just a good all-rounder, with something for every situation, though it might not always be the *best* something.

The TFB is very good for stealth as well, but a different kind of stealth. The vampire is good for a more Solid Snake or Sam Fisher kind of stealth, while the TFB is more Agent 47’s style of stealth.

There’s also two honorable mentions I’d like to include because they’re Kickstarter stretch goals and thus not really fully fleshed out yet.

The dullahan is a headless specter from Irish folklore that feeds on death. We haven’t really figured out exactly how to make this work mechanically yet, but that’s because we haven’t hit that stretch goal yet.

The gorgon is the last written stretch goal, and maybe the one I’m most excited for. They turn people to stone by looking them in the eye, and this is such an awesome blessing and curse to work around during gameplay that I really really want the excuse to implement it. They also may eat have snakes in their hair up to player choice, and eat people whole with mechanics sorta similar the way the TFB works, we aren’t quite sure because until we hit those stretch goals they just exist as a bunch of scattered notes and ideas. I gotta count on y’all to make sure we hit those stretch goals.

There is also a potential for the option to play a talking dog or a living doll, which will also be stretch goals if we can swing it.

Remember also, all of these will be playable as PCs, so they could be your enemy, or your ally.

Now that aaalllll that is out of the way..

Now, if you really want to support me and my team specifically Eureka: Investigative Urban Fantasy, our debut TTRPG, is going to launch on Kickstarter on April 10th and we need all the help we can get. Set a reminder from the Kickstarter page through this link.

If you’re interested in a more updated and improved version of Eureka: Investigative Urban Fantasy than the free demo you got from our website, there’s plenty of ways to get one!

Subscribe to our Patreon where we frequently roll our new updates for the prerelease version!

Donate to our ko-fi and send us an email with proof that you did, and we’ll email you back with the full Eureka prerelease package with the most updated version at the time of responding! (The email address can be found if you scroll down to the bottom of our website.)

We also have merchanise.

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joelswritingmistress · 10 months ago

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You Scare Me, Professor: Chapter 35

Summary: The reader is taking graduate classes at a local university in the wooded upstate New York. She is drawn to her professor, Dr. Joel Miller, though she is also inherently aware that he has something dark about him that she can't quite put her finger on. As the reader's attraction grows deeper, she has to decide whether to endure the danger or run away as fast as possible.

Pairing: Professor Joel Miller x f!reader

I jumped when the local radio station cut in on the silence after just a short cruise onto the main road from the school lot. The deejay’s booming voice let me know that I had been playing my music just a little bit too loud on the ride in and I grasped my chest.

“Wait..” I said the word aloud and frantically searched the compartment below the radio where I typically keep my phone. And then I reached into my pockets, checked my cup holders and rustled through the bag in my passenger seat with one hand. “Shit!”

My phone. Where the fuck did I leave it?

I pulled the car into the lot adjacent to the one I had just come from and gave a more thorough inspection of my vehicle. Nothing. No phone.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

I thought for a moment, wondering when the last time was that I had it.

In class? Yes. As I walked out. Yes. I relived the text that Dr. Miller had sent me. That was the last time I remember having it. So, I assumed it had to be somewhere between the classroom and the parking lot.

I exited the side lot, got back onto the main road for a couple hundred yards and then pulled back into the parking lot where I’d just come from. My spot was still available and so I pulled back in, checking the ground around it for a sign of my iphone. Nothing.

“Come on.” I smacked my open hand on the center of the steering wheel and then got out to look around. And then I stopped for a moment. There were texts between Dr. Miller and myself there that I didn’t want anyone to see. I didn’t have a passcode because I never saw a need for one. What if someone reads them? What if someone realizes it’s him who has been texting me? I had his name as ‘Joel’ in my phone, so at least there was some barrier there that wouldn’t lead someone directly to Dr. Miller at first glance.

Chill out and just look around.

I wandered around the parking lot, and then the sidewalk. I went back down the stairwell and into the basement level, even asking random people that were lurking around if they had seen an Iphone laying around. “No,” was the repetitive response.

I gave up on the basement and took the stairs again to find nothing, as I suspected.

Maybe Dr. Miller found it. I hoped he had. He would have recognized it if he saw it laying somewhere.

I was aggravated when I emerged back out onto the sidewalk. I knew I was in a losing battle if I hadn’t found it by now. Still, I walked around the area, looking in every little place I could think of. I hoped I hadn’t accidentally run it over on my drive out. It would be in a bunch of shattered pieces if I had.

“Fuck.” I walked up the dark sidewalk a bit farther and turned back around when I felt someone behind me. Before I could contemplate if the person was a threat, Dr. Miller’s Mercedes came whipping up, invading two handicapped spots and practically screeching to a sideways halt.

My mouth hung open as he hurried out of the car, rushing up to confront the hooded stranger behind me.

“Stop!” The voice was recognizable anywhere. It wasn’t a stranger.

“Trevor?” I wasn’t as startled by his presence as I was Dr. Miller’s in the moment.

“What are you doing?” Dr. Miller asked him angrily.

Trevor pushed the hood of his jacket down away from his face. “I waited around on the chance she'd come back,” he shouted out with his hands raised. I’d never heard Trevor raise his voice. “I was just going to tell her about her phone.”

I whipped my head in his direction. “You found my phone?”

“Yeah, and I was trying to flag you down when you drove off,” he claimed, “It fell out in the parking lot.”

“Did you know he was behind you?” Dr. Miller asked me.

I looked back and forth between the two of them. “No. I.. I was just looking around because I realized I didn’t have it.”

“So, you waited for her on a chance she’d come back but you didn’t call out her name?”

“Not yet,” Trevor went on, “I was about to and then you came running at me.”

“Because I saw a guy in a hood following a young woman,” Dr. Miller went on, “On the same campus where two women have already been killed.”

“Well, I could say the same about you,” Trevor shot back. “I went to check on (Y/N) when you followed her out the back door a few weeks ago.”

“Oh, the night my car was parked in the back parking lot?” He asked, “That night? Would you prefer me walk out the front door to get to the back lot where my car is parked? That wouldn’t make much sense, now would it?”

Trevor glanced down and back up, sort of like a lightbulb went off and he had a ‘duh’ moment.

I felt awkwardly caught in the middle of a giant cluster of misunderstandings. Dr. Miller glared at Trevor. Trevor glared back.

“Whatever you guys think of each other,” I said, “I think you both are just misunderstanding what happened - on both sides of things.” My eyes met Dr. Miller’s apologetically. I was trying to sound neutral and diffuse the situation. “Dr. Miller didn’t follow me out the back, Trevor. I probably shouldn’t have been walking alone, but I wanted to see if the pond was frozen and decided to take a little walk.” Lie. A terrible lie; but who was to argue?

Trevor still had a sour look on his face.

“And I’m sure Trevor didn’t mean any harm,” I told Dr. Miller, “I did lose my phone.”

“He knows,” Trevor said, waving a hand in his direction. “He has it.”

I raised my eyebrows, relieved, “You do?”

“I gave it to him,” my classmate added. “I was going to give it to you tomorrow during Dr. Stevenson’s class, or hand it in to the campus police. I know you’re friends with that guy.” Trevor eyed Dr. Miller again.

“Well, thank you Trevor.” I nodded to him and even put a hand on his shoulder for good measure. I wanted this to end. I wanted to go home. I didn’t want any questions being asked that would make me stutter and choke on my words, or expose my relationship with our professor.

Dr. Miller sucked his teeth from the interaction and put his hands on his hips. He then reached into the pocket of his jacket and placed the phone back in my palm. Our eyes locked and I could see he wasn’t happy.

“Thank you,” I said to him, holding his stare for an extra second. “I’m sorry my mishap caused all this. Everyone should just.. get home.” I nodded. “And I appreciate the concern.. from both of you.” I looked back and forth between them, “But I’m really alright. No one has to come to my rescue.”

“He could have attacked you,” Dr. Miller looked at me with a hard glare, motioning to Trevor again.

“I wasn’t going to attack her!” Trevor shouted.

“Stop!” I shouted out loud. I could see Dr. Miller was having a hard time letting it go in the moment. “Just.. I’m okay. I’m fine. I shouldn’t have walked alone.”

“Well, it seems like it’s a habit at this point,” Dr. Miller said to me now. “Smarten up. There’s a man killing women in the area and you’re out here alone with no awareness that someone’s even behind you.”

“I thought they caught that guy.”

“They didn’t catch anybody.” He shook his head and raised his voice just slightly.

After a brief moment of silence, Trevor looked to me. “I’ll walk you to your car.”

I looked to Dr. Miller and I could tell he hated the idea. If he was capable of breathing fire, now would have been the time. He was fuming and it was written all over his face.

“So she doesn’t walk alone,” Trevor added, challenging him.

“Thanks, Trevor.” I looked at Dr. Miller with apologetic eyes and anticipated an argument back at home.

Dr. Miller watched us go and I knew he wouldn’t leave until he knew I was safe in my car. I bid him a casual farewell and allowed Trevor to walk with me the rest of the way. When I glanced over my shoulder toward him, his eyes burned into mine.

“Hey, really,” I said to Trevor as we went, “Thanks for grabbing my phone. I appreciate it-”

“I thought you said you couldn’t ski,” he interrupted.

“I can’t.”

“Well, why do you have lift tickets then?”

“Excuse me?”

“Lift tickets. Vermont. I saw a notification pop up on your phone.”

I narrowed my eyes at him. “That’s none of your business. Why were you going through my phone?”

“I wasn’t going through your phone, it just popped up.”

“Well, still, it’s none of your business,” I said harshly, “And if you must know, my roommate Tori booked a girls weekend. I really don’t ski. I just agreed to go so I could get away for a few days.”

“Why wouldn’t you just tell me that instead of saying you were going to see your parents?”

“I don’t know, Trevor.” I shrugged, “We don’t know each other very well. I just.. I don’t know. You shouldn’t have looked at my phone.”

“I know. I wouldn’t have. It just popped up in my face and you had just told me two minutes before that you didn’t ski.”

I sighed and shook my head.

“Look, I’m sorry,” Trevor went on, “I invaded your privacy and I had no right to question you.”

“Thank you.”

“Dr. Miller creeps me out.”

Talk about an abrupt subject change.“Why?” I shook my head and squinted my eyes. I needed this part of the night to be over.

“He had to have been watching you to know exactly where you were when I started to walk up to you.”

“Maybe he was doing the same thing you were doing,” I suggested with a shrug.

“No.” Trevor shook his head, “I don’t trust him. Maybe he was waiting for you because he’s the Lady Killer.”

The Lady Killer. The fucking Lady Killer. I was sick of hearing about this shadow; this lurker. This evil manifested that was making everyone, myself included, fucking crazy.

“Dr. Miller isn’t the Lady Killer. The Lady Killer is Alec Pryor,” I informed him.

Trevor shook his head. “You apparently aren’t up to date on your facts.”

“What do you mean?”

“They found that guy in Pennsylvania. They brought him in for questioning and he had an alibi. There was even camera evidence that he was somewhere else when the second murder took place.”

What? “Then why would he run?”

“He gave two reasons. One, he thought he was going to be the patsy and go down for the murders even though he didn’t do them.”

“Well, he’s a sex offender. I wouldn’t feel a bit bad for him.”

“But a killer would still go free,” Trevor argued. He wasn’t wrong.

“What’s the second reason?”

“He thought someone was going to kill him.” Trevor nodded toward me. Did I hear him right? Poor Alec Pryor thought someone was going to kill him. Gee, I couldn’t imagine why.

“Bullshit.” I shook my head, “He’s looking for sympathy.”

“Maybe.” Trevor went on, “But there was evidence to support his claims that someone broke into his home the night he fled. He fled to get away and stay alive.”

“Well, we should all be glad that a sex offender is alive,” I said with heavy sarcasm.

“(Y/N), I want that asshole behind bars as much as the next guy,” Trevor confessed, “And I wouldn’t bat an eye if he died, but you’re missing the point.”

“What’s the point?”

“There is a coed killer still out there who hasn’t been caught. And I hate to say it, but Dr. Miller is right. Do you have a death wish?”

I rolled my eyes. “Okay, I’m out of here.”

“I’m sorry,” Trevor reached for my arm to pull me back. “I just think you should live by the motto, anyone who isn’t a killer is a target. I mean, what if I was the killer tonight and you were just wandering around alone?”

“Are you the killer?” I asked, showing zero concern in the expression.

“No,” Trevor said, exasperated right away. “Me? A killer?” He let out a laugh and I felt my phone buzz in my pocket. “I would worry less about me and more about our professor.”

“Dr. Stevenson?” I joked.

“You know who I mean. I know everyone loves him, including you, but I know he’s hiding something.”

Yeah, he’s fucking me. I would have loved to shout the snarky truth in his face but I would never. Plus, I didn’t want to label the depth of what we had together with a word as simple, shallow and overused as just ‘fucking’.

“I’ve got to go.” I ducked into my car. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Trevor. And thank you for getting my phone back to me in one piece.”

“You can thank Dr. Miller.” He shut the door once I was in and began to wander away.

I immediately checked my phone and I saw Dr. Miller’s text.

Wrap it up, he wrote, we need to get home.

CLICK HERE FOR THE NEXT CHAPTER

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