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late-to-the-party-81 · 10 months ago

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Thanks for reading and reblogging 🥰

It can’t rain all the time

A/N: this is my entry for @boxofbonesfic and @darkficsyouneveraskedfor Triple D challenge. It was supposed to be a smutty one shot. It turned into a 7k story with angst and fluff before the smut. It is the longest one shot I’ve ever written. Oh well!!

It goes without saying that minors should not read this! And please, read the warnings!!

Beta’d by the lovely @sgt-seabass

Divider by @firefly-graphics

Pairings: Reader x Ex Husband!Charles Blackwood, Reader x Frank Castle

Word count: approx 7k

CW: Gaslighting, Emotional manipulation, Financial manipulation, Domestic Violence, Rape (mentioned but not described in detail), Assault, minor injury, minor first aid, sharing a bed, breast/chest worship, marking, face sitting, PinV sex, Soft Pleasure Dom! Frank Castle, Protective!Frank Castle (he’s a warning), fluff and angst.

“You’ll be back baby and you know it! Ain’t gonna find anyone else that’s as good as me, ya hear! I’m talking to you, bitch!”

You hurried down the street with as much aplomb as you could muster, considering you were dragging a suitcase, carrying a holdall and your absolute cretin of a husband, hopefully soon to be ex, was shouting at you from the doorway of the brownstone that had been your home for the last two years. You saw the neighbours peering out of the windows and passers-by suddenly looking in other directions as you hurried through the sheeting rain.

With everything you were carrying you couldn’t manage an umbrella as well, so by the time you made it two blocks away, out of his sight, and raised your hand to hail a cab, you were drenched. Then, because the universe had a perverse sense of humour, or because it was raining, all of those in sight already had passengers. You tried to shelter under one of the cultivated trees on the sidewalk, sticking your arm out in vain at every passing flash of yellow. As the rain beat down, you wondered, how had it got to this?

You’d met your husband, Charles, three years ago, when he’d had a business meeting with one of the managers of the company you worked at. He was charming and charismatic and a lot of the ladies (and some of the men) in the office had swooned over him as he’d walked between the cubicles to the meeting room. His slate blue eyes and chestnut hair, tips bleached lighter by the sun, had captivated you, and when those eyes had connected with your own, and he had smiled at you, you’d felt your heart skip a beat.

When you came back from lunch the meeting had ended and he’d left the building, but there, propped on your keyboard was a business card, with his name and number on it, and on the back a scribbled message.

Le Bernadin, Friday, 8pm. Hope to see you there.

Presumptuous? Yes. Hot? Also, yes.

Charles had swept you off your feet with sumptuous dinners and expensive gifts. He made you feel as though you were the only girl in the world. After a whirlwind six months he proposed, and you said yes. You’d moved into his home when you became Mrs Blackwood.

Looking back, it had started to go downhill almost straight away, but you hadn’t noticed at the time.

He gave you praise when you did something he approved of but ignored you at best, and snapped at you at worst, when it was the other way. Dinner ready when he got home? Well then you were an angel, his best girl. Running late due to computer issues and then the subway being rammed? All you got then was a grunt, and a clipped enquiry about when you were going to have food on the table. It didn’t help that the sex was great, and he used it to distract you. As soon as you’d start to probe about his attitude he’d apologise, pull you into his arms and kiss you senseless before taking you to bed, making you scream his name.

A year into your marriage and you’d given up your job. You didn’t need it with the money Charles earned in his. It gave you more down time to relax, do the house up how you wanted and keep your husband sweet. He was so loving at that point, his moods reduced. He bought you more gifts and developed an obsession with getting you pregnant.

It had seemed so sweet.

The only times he’d got cross had been on the rare occasion you’d gone out with your girlfriends, coming home slightly tipsy. Never drunk because Charles didn’t like you drunk.

“Those gal-pals of yours are a bad influence, darling. The way they act they’re gonna get into trouble, and if you’re with them, you’ll be in it too. Don’t wanna see you get hurt darling. Just want you here with me, all nice and safe.”

Maybe it would have been different if you had become pregnant? But then again, maybe you would have still felt the way you do, the love disappeared, turned to fear and loathing, but with the added complication of trying to leave with a child in tow?

Every month, when your period had come, your loving husband would disappear. To start with, Charles would become sullen and uncommunicative, but over the last twelve months the comments had begun, disguised at first as teasing, but getting more and more vindictive as time went on. He blamed you for the lack of conception, that much was clear. You went to see your doctor, had tests done, but she could find no reason on your end why it wasn’t working, and before you could look at other routes, such as ICSI and IVF, Charles would need to have his own tests.

This had proven to be the straw that broke the camel’s back, so to speak. You’d brought it up with him last night - was it only last night? - when he’d got home from work. You’d expected some grumpiness from him, knowing that he would see the suggestion it might be him as an attack on his masculinity.

You hadn’t expected him to explode.

To scream at you.

To push you.

To slap you.

To rape you.

You’d passed out on the bed having cried yourself to sleep, and when you had finally woken he was gone, off to work as though your whole world hadn’t just come crumbling down. You might not have many friends left, and no close family, but you knew now to cut your losses. You’d shoved your way into some clothes, not bothering to wash, knowing in the back of your mind your body bore evidence you might need, before flinging your few prized possessions and a handful of clothes into a suitcase and duffel. Charles appeared at the door just as you were leaving, having decided to come home early to “care for my wife who is feeling a bit under the weather.”

It was only his shock that you were actually leaving that allowed you to push past him, out onto the street and blessed freedom.

Finally, a cab stopped for you, you made it to a hotel and called the police.

10 Months later

You should have expected it really. It was going to take a lot more than a rape and assault charge, along with divorce proceedings, to stop Charles from pestering you. He had money, and influence, so it wasn’t surprising that the charges hadn’t stuck, but you couldn’t regret trying. You’d cited irreconcilable differences in your divorce petition, and because you were the one to leave, it was looking likely that any settlement would be meagre, despite the fact that you’d left your job for him. His lawyer was making it look as though you had chosen the role of a housewife of your own volition, revelling in the fact you didn’t need to work. Charles was also dragging his feet with it all. Only complying with the filing of various paperwork right at the last minute. At least your therapy was helping you recover.

As you traipsed upstairs to your third-floor apartment, situated in an unassuming building in Hell’s Kitchen, your exhaustion at the whole situation gnawed at you. That’s probably why you didn’t realise that someone was following you up the stairs, half a turn behind. You were fumbling with your key when a pair of hands slapped down onto your door, either side of your head. You spun to find Charles stood right there, caging you in.

“Hey darling. Miss me?”

“Piss off Charles.”

“Is that any way to speak to your loving husband?”

You snorted in disgust.

“Charles, you never loved me, you proved that. And you are soon to be my ex-husband.”

“Aaaw, baby. You can’t really mean that. You can’t really enjoy living here of all places. And I know that you’ve not been seeing anyone since you had your little tantrum and left….” His hand moved so he could trail his knuckles down your cheek. “Bet you missed how good I can make you feel…”

You shivered at his touch, your stomach rolling.

“Yeah, I miss you like a hole in the head. And it wasn’t a little tantrum. You hit me and you raped me, and you fucking know it.”

“Ah-ah, not according to the courts. We just had a marital tiff, that you took too far the next day after you regretted our…rather vigorous…make-up sex.”

God, you thought you were going to be sick, although if it was going to be all over his shoes and suit it might be worth it.

You couldn’t hide the way your body trembled. He was taller than you, and although slim, it was all lean muscle. He’d beaten you once and you both knew he could do it again. You clutched your keys in your hand, trying to work out if you were brave enough to hit him with them if you needed to.

Unfortunately, the jangling caught his attention. He plucked them out from between your fingers easily, sliding the correct key into the lock on the first try. Terror ran through you then. You were relatively safe, out here in the hallway, but if he managed to get you inside your apartment then he’d have you trapped.

Your eyes darted to the side, and you could see the light seeping out from underneath the door just down the hall and to the right. You’d never met that neighbour, but even if it was just a little old lady, surely Charles wouldn’t make that much of a scene in front of a witness. With all the speed you could muster, you ducked under his arm and made a break for it. Your knuckles had barely scraped the wood of the door, when you felt an excruciating pain in your scalp, as Charles grabbed your hair and pulled you back, a sneer twisting his handsome features

“Tsk, tsk,darling. You know I like to make it interesting but adding a third party is not on the programme. Now be a good girl, like I know you can be, and get inside.”

“Fuck off!”

You attempted to stamp on his instep whilst trying to free yourself from the painful grip he had on you. Charles looked at you, condescendingly, when all of a sudden he froze, face dropping. You barely had time to wonder what had caused it when you heard a deep voice from behind you.

“I think the lady wants you to let her go.”

You twisted slightly to look, but all you could see was a muscled chest encased in a black t-shirt. Your neighbour by all accounts.

“Look, pal. She’s my wife and we’ve just got a couple of things to talk about, so back off, yeah?”

Charles' voice might have been full of bravado, but you could hear the undercurrent of worry. He wasn’t feeling in charge of this situation. It was obvious your neighbour was taller and bigger built, even if you couldn’t see him properly.

“The fact that she knocked on my door, looks terrified and you have a death grip on her hair tells me she doesn’t wanna talk to you, husband or no. So, I say again, let her go.”

“Or what? This is none of your business so just go back in…Aagghh!”

Charles’ tirade broke off with a scream and the horrible sound of bone grinding against bone. The pressure on your scalp was gone and you blinked tears out of your eyes to see him cradling his wrist and stepping back, eyes wide in fear.

“You’re a fucking psycho. You’ll be hearing about this!”

“Good for you pal. I’ll be waiting and quakin’ in my boots.”

With a last glare at you, Charles spun on his heel, still holding his aching wrist and vaulted down the stairs.

You let out the breath you hadn’t even realised you’d been holding, eyes focussing on your keys, swinging from your door where Charles had abandoned them in his attempt to get hold of you. You felt your neighbour take a step away from you, his presence no longer shadowing you and you turned to thank him.

You tipped your head up, and then further up. Damn the guy was huge, and looking at his rugged features, the obviously ‘broken at some point’ nose and the close-cropped hair, it was no wonder Charles had been running scared. To be honest, if you’d seen him yourself for the first time on a cold dark night, heck, even a warm one, you’d probably have crossed to the other side of the street. His whole body screamed ‘danger’, even though, in this moment, you knew that with him here, you were safe.

“Th..Thanks,” you stuttered. “He’s an insufferable prick who obviously doesn’t like to hear the word no.”

“Any time, no worries. I don’t like guys who act like that. You have any trouble like that again, just knock, or holla. I’m usually in.”

He turned to leave, to go back inside his apartment, but you stopped him with a tentative touch to his arm.

“I..um…what’s your name? You know, as we’re neighbours? I’m Y/N.”

A small smile split his face, and a strange feeling came over you.

“I’m Frank. Nice t’meetcha, and hopefully I’ll see you around, but in better circumstances. Bye.”

“Bye, Frank.”

You stepped back to your doorway but couldn’t help but take one last look at him as he stepped through his, both of you watching the other as you closed your doors.

After meeting Frank that first time, it seemed as though the universe now wanted to throw you both together. The next time you saw him was in the laundry room later that week, both of you waiting for your wash cycles to finish so you could move your stuff over to a dryer. You weren’t in there with him for very long, your machine due to finish a good ten minutes before his, but it was nice to chat to someone.

“How you doin’? Any more drama from his royal prickness?”

You snorted your amusement and he smiled in return, his chocolate-coloured eyes twinkling as he leant against one of the sorting tables.

“No, not in person. His lawyer is dragging out the divorce stuff again, as usual.”

He responded with a grunt of commiseration before your washer beeped and there were a few minutes of companionable silence as you moved your stuff over and started up the dryer.

When you turned you found he’d moved to be closer to you and you almost bounced off his impressive chest. You swallowed, hard, and looked up at him.

“Well, um, I’ll see you around Frank.”

“See you around…”

He looked down at you, his gaze capturing yours for a heartbeat, before he stepped back, and you slipped past him. It took everything in your power to walk normally. Something about him just… you weren’t even sure. It wasn’t fear… but it was close… maybe?

The next time you saw him was at the coffee shop down the street from the apartment. You’d decided to stop in as a treat to yourself, after a busy day scoping out new employment opportunities and handing out your CV to appropriate places. It was hard to explain the two-year gap and why you had left your previous employment to someone you didn’t know on the off chance they would give you a job.

But you don’t get anything without asking, so you were rewarding yourself for actually putting yourself out there. It had started to rain - wasn’t it always raining? - and stopping for a coffee was cheaper than a cab; you needed to start saving your pennies now your meagre savings were dwindling.

You’d just collected your ridiculous hazelnut latte with extra whipped cream from the counter, searching for a seat, when you saw a familiar form sat at a small table in the corner.

“Room for one more?”

Frank looked up from where he was scrolling through his phone with his right thumb, his left hand around a mug of black coffee.

“For you neighbour? Always.”

You slid into the seat opposite him and took a sip of your drink. He looked at you and smirked, before his hand snaked out and a calloused thumb wiped a blob of cream off your nose. You started to giggle back, but the sound died in your throat as you watched him suck his thumb into his mouth, ridding it of the sweet foam. When you drew your gaze away from his plump mouth it was to catch his eyes, that signature twinkle back in them.

“What you been up to?”

You shook your head slightly, breaking out of your daze.

“Um…handing out CV’s. With the divorce taking so long, I need to get back into employment. Although, I’m not holding out my hopes for the settlement, either, but just being finally free of Charles will be a godsend. I just hope once it’s done, he finally accepts it. I’m glad he’s not come back to the apartment, but I hate him knowing where I live.”

“That bad, huh? I mean, it looked quite bad the other day, you know…”

So, you told him your sorry tale, his face getting stonier as you got towards the end of the story.

“If I ever see him set foot near the apartment, I swear I will break his face and he’ll be happy about it! Fuck sweetheart! Jeez. I’m just glad you got away from him though.

“Yeah, away from him, but jobless, in my mid-thirties, wondering what to do with my life.”

He smiled at you again, the skin around his eyes crinkling in a way that made your heart flutter.

“Hey, you’re not old, by any stretch. Still got the best bits of your life to live. And just think, you’re more mature, know exactly what you like and don’t like. No one will think you’re a pushover next time round.”

You smiled back at him.

“You’re a good friend, Frank.”

“Is that what we are? This is the longest we’ve talked.” He was still smiling, so you knew he was teasing. “I know what, let’s go get something to eat and have a few beers. I’ve got nothing better to do this evening.”

“Sheesh Frank, make it sound as though you want to spend time with me, why don’t cha?”

He playfully elbowed you in the arm.

“Come on sweetheart. Rain’s stopped and I know a great Chinese place down the road.”

“Lead on my gallant knight!”

It was silly, but maybe silly is what you needed? Halfway there the rain started up again and you both had to run for it, coats held above your heads as you attempted to keep yourself dry. You burst through the door of the restaurant, the pair of you laughing. At least with his short hair Frank looked less like a drowned rat than you. A server quickly ushered you both to a table, even managing to find a small towel for you so you could rub a bit at the moisture in your hair.

Frank was right of course about the place. The food was good, the beers cold, but for you, it was the company that was the best. The pair of you laughed and joked, telling stories from your childhoods. He was fairly tight-lipped about his job, mumbling that he was a ‘private contractor’, and the only other low point in the conversation was when he revealed he was a widower. The way that the shutters came down over his face told you not to probe any further. It was his tale to tell, if he ever wanted to. By the time the meal came to an end you were relaxed, and possibly - probably - a bit tipsy from the three beers you’d had.

Walking outside you were glad to see the rain had stopped. The clouds had cleared somewhat so it was probably a safe bet that the walk home would be dry. You wobbled a bit as you started to walk, causing Frank to chuckle before tucking your arm in the crook of his. You felt blood rush to your face and prayed he couldn’t feel the heat radiating off your cheeks.

“So, sweetheart, what’s on the to-do list tomorrow for you then?”

“Oh, nothing much. Laundry, bit more scouring the internet for job opportunities, maybe a bit of reading and box set binging. It’s gonna be strange when I do get back to work, having been out of it for so long. But it’ll be good, I’m sure. The chance to meet and connect with new people.”

He hummed in response, but you were getting tired now, and not really paying attention.

When you reached your apartment building you were glad you had Frank with you. You tripped and giggled a bit up the stairs. Frank had untangled your arm from his and guided you with his large hands on your shoulders. You could feel the heat of them through your sodden jacket, aware of his large body behind you as you mounted the stairs. There was a stirring in the pit of your stomach, an almost forgotten feeling, which was blooming with every step.

Desire.

The realisation almost stopped you short, causing you to stumble and Frank to bump into your back. It had been so long since you’d felt it. Hadn’t since…that night. You squeezed your eyes shut, willing your brain not to link how you were feeling now with that awful experience. Frank, oblivious to your internal turmoil, steered you the last turn up onto the landing.

“Here we are. Didn’t expect you to be such a lightweight, sweetheart.”

His deep chuckle sent darts of heat to your core.

You managed to find your keys, and unlocked your door, but before you entered you turned to face him. He smiled down at you, a crooked but kind smile, his eyes dancing in the low hallway light. Instinctively, you wrapped your arms around his waist and pressed your cheek up to his damp t-shirt. He was startled a bit by the impromptu hug, but quickly recovered and wrapped his large arms around you in return. He was warm and it felt safe to be wrapped up in him, being held tight against his broad firm chest. You’d never felt so small, and yet so protected. You tilted your head to look up at him, leaning slightly away from his chest so you didn’t go cross-eyed.

“Thank you for being my friend, Frank.”

Then, before you could over-think what you were doing, you moved one of your hands to the back of his neck, feeling the short hairs beneath your fingers, and drew his head down as you raised up on your toes, pressing your lips to his. In a heartbeat, he slid a hand up to cradle the back of your head and deepened the kiss. His lips were plump, but also slightly chapped and you felt the roughness as they mapped your own. Your hands moved to grasp the lapels of his coat, unsure whether you were stabilising yourself or pulling him closer or both. You sighed into him, enjoying your first intimate contact in almost a year.

He pulled away from you gently, his smile softer, and he cupped your cheek in his calloused palm.

“Goodnight, sweetheart.”

“Goodnight, Frank.”

A loud thump, and the sound of a man swearing under his breath woke you from your slumber.

It had been a week since your evening with Frank, and you had barely seen him, one of you always rushing to or from somewhere. You’d been thinking of inviting him over for dinner and a few drinks, maybe a film, just to relax for an evening. You could no longer deny you were attracted to him and part of you wanted to see where this would lead. He obviously wasn’t indifferent to you.

Another thump, louder this time, and you pinpointed the noise as coming from the hallway. There were only three apartments on this floor, and considering it was 2.30am, and the fact that the grunts were male, you didn’t think it was Mrs Kratz coming back in from a night on the tiles with her knitting group.

It could be an intruder, but if it were, surely Frank would have come out from his apartment to investigate. Therefore, it was likely the culprit was Frank himself. Still, it was better to be safe than sorry, so as you moved to your door, you grabbed the baseball bat you kept for your own protection.

You peered out of the peephole, but weren’t able to discern anything more, so, carefully, you slid back the deadbolt and opened your door. There was Frank, leant against the wall at the top of the stairs. Blood trickled down his face from a cut near his eyebrow. His knuckles were grazed, and he was clutching at his ribs.

“Frank!” You dropped your bat onto the floor and ran over to him, nudging your smaller body under his free arm to try and prop him up.

“Come on big guy, help me here. Let’s get you inside, and I’ll try patch you up.”

He grunted in response, and you could see pain glazing his eyes. The pair of you staggered into your apartment; there was no way that you’d get him down to his. You considered setting him down on your couch, but he was so big there was no way he’d be able to lie down on it, and you wanted room to check his injuries. You wondered how he had been injured but pushed your interest in that away; that could come later.

It was a bit awkward, but you finally managed to get you both across your small living space and into your bedroom. Frank basically tipped himself off you to flop down onto your bed, wincing as he landed, feet hanging off the end.

“Right, let’s see what we’re working with here. You gotta help me.”

You pulled the hem of his t-shirt out of the waist of the black combat pants he was wearing and pushed it up until it bunched under his armpits. There was a mottled bruise firming across the right side of his ribs, along with some scrapes and abrasions.

“It’s alright, sweetheart. Prob’ly just bruised. Definitely not broken.”

He shifted, going to stand up, but you placed your hand on his sternum and pushed him back down.

“At least let me wash and wrap them, okay?”

His eyes closed, but you saw a small nod, so, grabbing your first aid kit from your bathroom, you cleaned off the small cuts, and then, awkwardly, wrapped a bandage around his ribs. You then turned your attention to cut on his brow. He hissed when you cleaned it, but otherwise was silent and still. You had a couple of butterfly strips so you used those to hold the wound together. You were certain it was going to scar, but you didn’t think he was worried about things like that.

Next you grabbed a bottle of water from your fridge, thanking yourself for buying one with a sports cap, a protein bar and some aspirin. With Frank’s help, you managed to get him turned onto his good side, propped up with some pillows, and whilst he drank down the water, and took the painkillers, you managed to wrench his boots off his feet. You perched on the edge of the mattress, watching his throat move as he drank. He drained the bottle, and you took it from him, placing it on your nightstand.

“Are you okay, Frank?”

“Be right as rain in the mornin’, sweetheart. Thank you.” He took your hand in one of his large paws, giving it a gentle squeeze that made butterflies swoop in your stomach. Your tongue darted out to moisten your lip and you didn’t notice how his gaze lingered.

“Well… I… erm… I’ll go head to the sofa.” You started to shift, but his grip on your hand tightened.

“No.”

You tilted your head as you looked at him.

“No?”

Was that a slight pinking of his cheeks you saw?

“I mean… there’s enough space, I’m sure I can shuffle over a bit. And you know, what if I need your help in the night? Be easier if you’re right here?”

You couldn’t help but grin and a teasing note entered your voice.

“Is big, bad Frank saying he needs me to look after him?”

“Okay, okay, stop being a brat, and come lay down.”

You climbed onto the bed properly, and after smoothing the coverlet over the pair of you, settled down to face him, your bedside lamp casting soft light over the planes of his face.

“Goodnight, Frank.”

“Goodnight, sweetheart.”

You closed your eyes, certain it was going to take you ages to go back to sleep, especially with Frank lying next to you, but it was mere minutes before slumber took you.

The thing overriding your senses as you woke was a firm weight, almost completely pinning your body down.

For a moment you panicked, until your memories of last night kicked in. Opening your eyes, and carefully turning your head, you confirmed that the weight was in fact Frank. You must have turned over in the night and, at some point, you had both drifted closer together. He had a large arm around your waist and a thick thigh hooked over your legs. He still had his clothes on, and the material of his pants scratched against your skin.

You shifted slightly, seeing whether you could slip out from under him, but you soon realised that the movement was a bad idea. How could you forget about what happened to a lot of men as they woke in the morning, especially if pressed up against somebody else. You tried to ignore the bulge nudging against your ass, it was a natural reaction and Frank still appeared to be asleep and unaware, but a small part of your mind went into overdrive. His fingers were pressed against your stomach, the warmth of them seeping through your thin pyjama top. How would they feel on your bare skin? You knew the skin of his hands was rough, probably from years of physical labour, nothing like Charles’ with his moisturisers and regular manicures. His leg was thick with muscle and he was currently pinning you down with just one, without any effort. Your pussy clenched involuntarily, and you couldn’t help the moan that escaped your lips.

“I’d be very grateful, sweetheart, if you could not make noises like that.”

His voice, deeper and more gravelly than usual, no doubt from sleep, sounded in your ear, and you let out a small squawk of surprise and tried to turn in his arms. However, he just held you just a little bit tighter, drawing your back against his body even further.

“And quit wrigglin’.”

You were quiet for a moment, thoughts swirling in your head.

“Erm, Frank. You gonna let me up?”

“The question, sweetheart, is whether you want me to?”

A heartbeat’s silence.

Now or never.

“No…” Your voice was barely a whisper, but apparently that’s all that was needed.

Frank moved his head so it was resting on your shoulder, his broad, misshapen nose nuzzling behind your ear, his breath hot on your neck.

“Is this okay?”

You nodded, not trusting yourself to speak.

The hand on your stomach moved, his fingers sneaking up under your top, so he could feel the bare flesh of your stomach. It felt better than you imagined, every callus causing a ripple of sensation as his fingers brushed gently over your skin.

“And this… Is this also okay?”

You whined and your hips canted back of their own accord, brushing against his hardness and drawing a hiss from him.

You were overcome with the need to kiss him, to have him kiss you and you struggled to turn within his embrace.

“Frank…”

He relaxed his grip and you flipped, arms going up to wind around his neck. Your gazes locked, his eyes hooded and heavy looking, before he let out a low, deep noise, somewhat like a growl, and captured your lips with his. Your first kiss had been tentative on your part, and soft on his. This kiss was nothing like that. This was passion and need and want. Now it was you who trapped him with a leg, rolling your pelvis and shuddering at the pressure on your clothed clit.

His tongue invaded your mouth, tasting you and drawing your cries into him. You needed more. Your hands skimmed down his body until they found the hem of his t-shirt and pushed it up. When your fingers brushed against his bandaged ribs, he hissed, arching back and away from you instinctively.

“Careful baby, still a bit tender.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry Frank…” You tried to scrabble off the bed, the moment apparently broken and your embarrassment kicking in, but once again, he didn’t seem keen to let you go.

“Hey, where you goin’? I said be careful, not run away.”

Oh god his smile, the things it did to you.

“You certain you want this sweetheart? You’re in charge. You tell me stop and I stop.”

“I know Frank, I want this, need to feel you.”

You moved to kneel up on the bed, and he let you go, rolling onto his back. You drew your sleep shirt over your head, and you saw his eyes darken further, only a sliver of hazel to be seen as he looked at you. His hand reached out to take hold of yours, tugging on it.

“C’m’ere gorgeous.”

You straddled his hips, careful of his bruises as he pulled you down so he could take the tip of one breast into his mouth, humming in pleasure. He gently palmed the other, his thumb swiping gently over your nipple, the roughness sending frissons of pleasure darting up your spine.

He spent an age worshipping your upper body, switching between each breast with his mouth, and sometimes kissing and nipping at your collarbone. You mewled and ground against his hardness, feeling your underwear grow damp with your arousal. When he finally released your breasts, you felt bereft, but the feeling quickly faded as he shuffled to pull his own t-shirt up over his head. In the morning light, and without the worry of his injuries distracting you, you could see just how built he was. Your hands roamed to his lightly haired pecs, and you couldn’t help but squeeze them, digging your nails in, wanting to leave your own mark on his body.

“Look atchu, sweetheart. Going all feral on me? Declarin’ your ownership, huh?”

You couldn’t answer, just attacked his chest with your mouth and your teeth, growing wetter by the second as he hissed and writhed under you. You sat back, grinning and staring at your handy-work, a litany of bruises and marks across his skin, but before you could get too smug, his arms hooked under your legs and hoisted you up, so you were straddling across his upper chest. With two quick tugs he ripped the seams of your underwear, threw the torn scrap away, and pulled you onto his face.

“Fuck!”

You screeched as his tongue wormed its way between your pussy lips and you had to grab onto the headboard for stability. His hands cupped your ass, holding you trapped against him. You’d had good head before, but Christ, never had a man just seated you on his face as though you were nothing. Frank moaned into your core, and you could feel the rumble in his broad chest reverberating under you. His hands shifted you, tilted your hips, so he could suckle on your clit. You braved a glance down to see him starting up at you, completely unabashed. Pleasure shot through you, and you started to grind down onto his face. He returned his attention to your wet hole, thrusting his tongue inside you and moving his head slightly side to side so that your clit brushed against his broad nose.

“Frank… shit… gonna cum… gonna fucking cum… oh god!”

He hummed into your core as you shook on top of him, unashamedly rutting your hips back and forth as you chased your high. As you calmed, Frank slowed the movement of his tongue, reducing it to long, leisurely licks causing aftershocks to shudder through you, and when a whimper of overstimulation left your lips, he gently moved you to sit across his chest again. You risked another look down, your eyes unfocused, and your smile goofy as the endorphin high ran through your body. He smiled that lazy smile back up at you, his face glossy with your juices.

Carefully you moved back down his body, so you could take his face in your hands and kiss him. You tasted yourself on him and you both moaned into each other. You felt his hands scrabbling behind you and you squeaked when he lifted his hips, causing you to lurch forward, but when you settled back down you realised he had pushed his pants and trunks down. His legs shuffled and shook, and you giggled into his mouth as he shed himself of the stiff fabric.

“Can you ride me baby? Betchu can. Take all this cock, and then take what you want from me?”

You took your bottom lip between your teeth, your eyes closing momentarily at the thought, before you shifted further down, so you could get a look at what you were going to be working with.

Shit.

He was thick and cut, prominent veins running down his length. As you took him in with your gaze, you heard a strange noise, finally realising it was you, letting out a reedy whine.

“C’mon sweetheart, up you get. Know you can do it. That beautiful pussy was made for this, made for me, I fucking swear.”

With a hand pressed to his upper chest for balance, you raised yourself up. He took himself in his hand, holding himself upright and guided his tip towards your glistening core. You sank down slowly, feeling the wide head stretch your entrance, before suddenly popping inside. You whined again, and heard his answering growl. You bounced gently, slowly engulfing him and feeling jolts of electricity shoot up and down your spine.

“Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck.”

“There you go, atta girl. You almost got it.”

His gentle and tender praise, so different from Charles, made your heart beat faster, made you want to please him. You were taken by surprise when you bottomed out, feeling the roughness of his pubic hair prickling your sensitive pussy lips and clit, still swollen and throbbing. You ground your hips in a circle, revelling in the delicious stretch, your muscles clenching in reflex.

“That’s it, you got it. Now lift those hips and ride me, yeah?”

Slowly, you lifted up and felt him sliding inside you, rubbing every sensitive nerve ending, before allowing gravity to bring you back down. A small grunt was forced from you, the burn from the stretch straddling that space between pleasure and pain. Your second movement was faster and the third faster still. Frank’s hands spanned your waist, the size of them making you feel so small, helping you to ride him. You clenched around him hard on every upstroke, feeling powerful. Desirable. Sexy. A lifetime away from that woman who was so eager to please for an easy life. Who put up with degradation and emotional manipulation.

“Hey, come back to me sweetheart. Ya here with me, okay?”

Your eyes snapped open, realising you’d worried him for a moment, apparently having spaced out.

“Yeah, I’m here…” You bent down and kissed him again, rolling your hips, darts of sensation shooting through your clit from the outside and your g-spot on the inside, where he bumped and rubbed against you.

“Fuck, sweetheart. So good, so warm. And so tight. Shit. Was gonna let you do all this, but please… please I gotta fuck you.”

You nodded, but he tutted.

“Words sweetheart. Need to hear it. Need to know you’re thinking properly.”

“Yes… please Frank… I need you… need you to fuck me.”

He gripped your waist tighter and flipped you both, so he knelt up between your legs. He moved you so both your calves leant against his shoulder, away from his bruising. His arms wrapped around your thighs, holding your legs together and your body close as he set up a fast pace. You shouted out in pleasure, the stimulation almost making you cry.

“Touch yourself, baby. Need you to cream on this cock.”

You hand moved, unwaveringly down to your clit, and you rubbed fast circles, knowing you wouldn’t need a lot more to finish. The other hand moved up to your breast and you palmed your flesh and plucked at your nipple. You could only moan and whimper as Frank's lips spilled praise, the pressure inside you building until it burst, your body arching, his name leaving your mouth on a scream. He fucked you through it, his own movements becoming uncoordinated, until you felt him pulse and twitch inside you, heard him moaning your name over and over as he reached his own end.

Your legs slipped from his shoulder and you rolled to your side as he pulled out and collapsed onto the bed behind you. You both lay there, panting and zoned out for a few moments, before he pulled you up against his body, pressing fervoured kisses to your shoulder and neck.

“You okay, sweetheart?”

“Perfect, Frank.”

“‘M never gonna let anything hurt you again. He ain’t ever gonna hurt you again.”

Your hand trailed up and down his arm, over the dark hair, and you’re sure you dozed for a while, lying all safe, until your stomach rumbled loudly, bringing you back to reality. With a giggle you got up from the bed and, tossing a smile over your shoulder, pulled Frank’s t-shirt over your head and padded into your bathroom. You quickly cleaned yourself up, and you were just brushing your hair as you stood in front of the mirror when you took a good look at the fabric covering you. It was mainly black, but had a design in white on the front. You put your brush down and pulled the material out taut with your hands. A skull design.

Oh fuck.

You recognised this symbol from the news. Frank, your neighbour, your friend and now your lover, was the vigilante known as The Punisher. Had he been out fighting crime and righting wrongs last night, when he got injured?

A sudden pounding on your front door broke you out of your thoughts. As you dashed back through your bedroom you pulled on your shorts, before opening the door.

Charles.

A bruised and battered looking Charles.

“Keep that neighbour of yours under control!”

His eyes were wide, spittle flying, as he poked you in the chest with his index finger.

“He came to my club, started punching me and the boys…”

He trailed off mid sentence and took a stumbling step backwards. Frank stood at your back, arm draped across your shoulder. A quick glance revealed he was just wearing his underwear.

“Hey, pal. How you feelin’? As you can see I’m doing just fine after that little sparrin’ match with all your buddies last night. Coulda all been avoided if you’d just agreed to stay away ‘n’ stop holding up the paperwork. And then, y’know, not had your friends all try jump me with bats. As it so happens, it was the state you guys left me that led to me bein’ here. She looked after me real good and I looked after her too.”

“You fucking creep! Taking advantage of my wife when she’s not in her right frame of mind!”

“Charles?”

You interrupted his tirade with your sweetest voice, honed from months of practice and coming back to you with sickening ease.

“You like Frank’s t-shirt? He made it himself, one of a kind!”

Initially confusion reigned on his handsome, albeit bruised, face. But you saw the moment he too recognised the emblem, looking from the skull symbol to Frank, to you and back again.

“I… um… ah… need to go see my lawyer… got some papers to sort out…yeah.. so I’ll just go…”

He spun, almost tripping over his own feet in his haste to get away.

A small smile crept across your face. No way in hell was Charles ever going to hurt you again.

Tag list @christywantspizza @jobean12-blog @krissy25

#frank castle x y/n #charles blackwood #frank castle smut #frank castle x you #frank castle x reader #ex husband charles blackwood

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 4 months ago

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#polls #there is no reason

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goodqueenaly · 9 months ago

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since you clearly know your history, do you think aegon iv's situation with his mistresses while he was king was handled realistically? weren't official king's mistresses married off before taking on their positions because any bastard children sired needed a legal father? falena was married off but there's no mention of barba, melissa, or the other women after aegon iv ascended having husbands. i mean, obviously barba needed to be unwed so she could have a chance of becoming queen but if melissa wanted to establish herself as a non-grasping replacement, shouldn't she go get a husband so naerys, aemon, and daeron couldn't feel threatened? and even if melissa was a super nice person, how she could she remain "well-loved" at court while publicly having bastards and one of them is an albino? wouldn't her reputation be ruined if aegon iv dropped her and she remained unmarried after that?

I think the historical record is somewhat mixed on that point. Think of, for example, GRRM’s, ugh, favorite point of reference for Aegon IV, Henry VIII (yeah, I know): Bessie Blount was not married at the time she was in a relationship with the king (and conceived Henry Fitzroy with him), though she did marry after her son’s birth, while it’s entirely unclear when Mary Boleyn married relative to when she and Henry VIII had their relationship (and, of course, Henry offered to make Anne Boleyn his mistress while she was unmarried). Likewise, if we look to Charles II - another inspiration, I think, for Aegon IV, no less so because I tend to think he named Barba Bracken after Charles’ long-term mistress Barbara Villiers, Duchess of Cleveland - the record is far from one-sided: Barbara herself, for example, was married during their relationship of course, but the king’s two primary mistresses at the end of his life, Louise de Kerouaille and Nell Gwynn, were both unmarried for the whole of their lives (and as much as James Scott, Duke of Monmouth, Charles’ eldest extramarital son, might have claimed that Charles had married his mother, Lucy Walter, when the two were exiles in the Netherlands, Charles himself vehemently denied the supposed marriage, which had no evidence of its existence otherwise). Too, Louis XIV - not perhaps explicitly cited by GRRM as an inspiration for Aegon the Unworthy, but certainly a king famous for his love affairs - had both married and unmarried mistresses: while Louise de La Vallière was unmarried (and later ended her life as a repentant nun), the Marquise de Montespan did have a husband (who notoriously held a “funeral” for his wife after she became the king’s mistress); the widower King Louis did, almost certainly, end up marrying his last mistress, the similarly widowed Marquise de Maintenon. (There is also the story that when one of Louis’ early loves, Marie de Mancini, married her eventual husband, Prince Colonna, the prince was surprised to discover that his wife was a virgin, as he said he had not expected to find “innocence among the loves of kings”.) Again, these are only a very few, very limited examples, but I think it’s fair enough to say that GRRM could have felt, let’s say somewhat historically comforted by having Aegon IV’s mistresses be (mostly) unmarried women.

In any event, I don’t think it was a necessity that Melissa Blackwood be married in order for her to be seen as unthreatening to the queen. While the details of Melissa’s life, especially her time as Aegon’s mistress, are frustratingly thin and vague based on our current knowledge, it does seem that Melissa went out of her way to curry favor with Queen Naerys, Prince Daeron, and Prince Aemon - a step that Barba Bracken almost certainly never took, if she was looking to replace Naerys as queen (and perhaps have her son Aegor replace Daeron as heir). It is also worth pointing out, of course, that in the aftermath of Barba’s, and probably more generally Lord Bracken’s and his faction’s, failed attempt to have Barba marry the king, Melissa and whatever faction was supporting her may have emphasized that Melissa had no such ambitions in order to distinguish her from the disgraced former mistress. Additionally, the fact that Melissa did not have a son with the king until a few years after their relationship began may have also served as some reassurance to the queen, Prince Daeron, and Prince Aemon: not only, perhaps, did Melissa appear not to want to replace the queen, but she had no ready would-be heir, as Barba had had, to promote in place of Daeron and strengthen her ambition to create a new royal family.

Naturally, because we know nothing about why Melissa was sent away from court, or what happened to her after, we have no idea how her brief years as the king’s chief mistress affected her life or her socio-political prospects thereafter. I do tend to think that Melissa didn’t live a long life after leaving court, though when and how she might have died is obviously completely unclear. In any event, though, I could see where Melissa’s positive reputation, especially if she died relatively young, might have been preserved at court: the kind-hearted, widely beloved young woman, perhaps driven from the court by those no-good-very-bad Brackens who had then replaced her with a “faithless” mistress. Once King Daeron II came to the throne himself, the new king may have been even more inclined to think fondly of the woman who had treated himself and his late mother and uncle with respect and deference, where few if any other of his father’s mistresses had - “better this mistress than any other”, perhaps, to paraphrase the Queen of France on the subject of her husband’s beloved mistress, Madame de Pompadour. (Naturally as well, once Bloodraven came into power and influence, especially after the First Blackfyre Rebellion, he would likely have done much to promote the positive legend of his mother, especially in contrast to the surviving reputation of Barba Bracken - a legacy that I think will be central to the conflict of “The Village Hero”).

It’s also worth pointing out that while King Aegon’s identified chief mistresses after his ascension seem to have been unmarried young women, this is not to say that the king probably limited his sexual liaisons during his reign only to these individuals. After all, Yandel notes in his overview of Daeron II’s reign that during Aegon IV’s rule, the men of the City Watch of King’s Landing whom the king promoted “made sure that the brothels—and even the decent women of the city—were available for Aegon’s lusts”; I think it’s probably fair to say Yandel likely included “married” in his definition of “decent”. Moreover, while Yandel identified Jeyne Lothston as Aegon IV’s chief mistress after the downfall of Bethany Bracken, the maester-author also suggested that the king “enjoyed mother and daughter together in the same bed”, after Falena Lothston (nee Stokeworth) brought young Jeyne to court (a disturbing rumor, of course, when paired with the additional suggestion by Yandel that Jeyne had been fathered by the king, not Lord Lucas). I fully expect that when we learn more about Aegon IV’s reign (especially given the, ugh, high likelihood of even more unnecessary sexual exploits to be highlighted in Fire and Blood Volume 2), Aegon’s omnivorous sexual desire, including for married women, will be underlined.

#asoiaf meta #aegon iv targaryen #melissa blackwood #mistresses of aegon iv

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crazyk-imagine · 1 year ago

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Hi I’m back again, I have a request for our dear Wolfman, again. Would you please write a 50 first dates ?

Thank you again for everything!

💛💛

Thinking of You

Pairing: (Henry Roth) Leonard "Wolfman" Wolfe (Henry "Wolfman" Ruth) x (Lucy Whitmore) Fem!Reader

Characters: Fem!Reader, Leonard “Wolfman” Wolfe (Henry "Wolfman" Ruth), Pete “Maverick” Mitchell, Nick “Goose” Bradshaw, Carol Bradshaw, Bradley Bradshaw, Tom “Iceman” Kazansky, Ron “Slider” Kerner, Rick “Hollywood” Neven, Marcus “Sundown” Williams, Sam “Merlin” Wells, Charles “Chipper” Piper, Mike “Viper” Metcalf, Bill “Cougar” Cortell, Charlotte “Charlie” Blackwood, Penny Benjamin

Warnings: Fluff, angst, this is cute, Leonard is adorable, reader watches out for herself, everyone is protective of the reader and it's adorable, no fisherman here, only ranchers and cowboys, small town vibes, Iceman and Viper are the best, Pete can't cook for the life of his business, few funny moments, few serious moments here and there

Word Count: 5,307

A/N: I am so so sorry for taking forever with this one. I did not forget it, I promise. It was a whole thing with trying to find inspiration and rewatching the movie for research. But it... is... done!!!

Viper still refers to Bradley as a baby because he is (in his eyes)

Charlie is the horny German lady which I find hilarious

Yes, I used the TGM Squad as the kids for everyone who had children in the movie

The guys all have a work past with Viper

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

He takes a seat at the counter, minding his own business as he reads a menu.

You smile as you walk inside, you always love coming here and not just because you get to see Penny and Pete, your favorite couple at the restaurant but because you get to make your waffle buildings.

‘Maybe today I’ll build a hut. Oh, and for the steam we can use coffee.’

Penny notices there’s a little pep in your step while she hands you a menu. “How are you doing, Butterfly?”

You giggle, “I’m doing just fine.”

She smiles and tells you your table is free.

He sees you enter the restaurant, sitting down in one of the empty booths in the middle of the row.

Penny turns around filling another customer’s coffee, she notices the looks he’s sending your way and needs to stop it before things can progress, you don’t need any more heartache (even if you don’t remember it today).

It would also save him from meeting your dad, who’s in charge of the port, Viper aka Mike or your cousin, Iceman aka Tom.

“I wouldn’t,” she tells him.

He furrows his brows and turns towards the waitress. “I’m sorry, what did you say?”

“You’ll only find yourself heartbroken if you try to pursue her.”

“What makes you say that?”

She purses her lips; she doesn’t find it necessary to tell him of your accident. But then she realizes he’s new and must be one of the few new cowboys that came into town.

“You’re gone for more than half of the year doing what you do. You’ve never met her but if you did and it was time to leave both of you would be crushed. Imagine how much that for a second.”

“Maybe she’d come with me.”

“She-” She sighs at the wound of glass breaking. “Excuse me while I go kick my husband out of the kitchen.”

“I didn’t do it on purpose, Pen.”

“Out of the kitchen, Maverick," a new voice says.

He doesn't know it, but it was the actual cook, Marcus.

He sighs, pushing the doors open, taking a seat beside the man. “Sounds like you did good there.”

The dejected man chuckles, “yeah.”

“Hey. You happen to know that girl sitting in the booth, would you?”

Pete glances over his slumped shoulder. “What’s it to you?”

“Woah. Woah. Why is everyone so aggressive? I was just asking a question.”

“A question that shouldn’t be asked.”

“Okay. Message received.”

“You seem like the type who won’t take no for an answer?”

Leonard chuckles, “am I really that transparent?” He chuckles to himself as he takes a sip of his coffee until he turns back to look at Pete and realizes how serious this whole thing is. “Oh, shit. Sorry, I just thought-”

“She wouldn’t go for a guy like you,” a voice says sitting on the other side of the rancher.

The two men angle their bodies to hear the man better.

Pete gives him a sarcastic smile. “Yeah, thanks for that, Cougar. We don’t need to give it any more ideas.”

“First off, it has a name and oh, she’s trying to make a door.”

The two look back and focus on you trying to get the finishing touches to your waffle house done.

He debates on walking over to you after hearing everyone’s warnings.

Clearly no one here wants to see anything bad happen to you if they’re this willing to stop him before he could try anything.

He pushes himself out of the chair, grabs a toothpick before heading over to you.

“Hey,” he starts off not to startle you entirely before sticking the toothpick in place, opening and closing the door to show you how well it works. “I thought this might help you a little more.”

You glance up at him, giving him a smile. “Well, then I guess the only thing I can say is thank you. To be honest, it probably would have taken me five minutes to figure it out, so again, I thank you for saving me from any potential embarrassment.”

Leonard lifts his hat, “I always do what I can to help a beautiful lady such as yourself.”

“Ah, I bet you say that to everyone you see then.”

He chuckles. This certainly isn’t what he was expecting when he walked over, it's different, nice even. “May I,” he gestures to the empty side of the booth.

“Please, I’d like to look a little less pathetic in front of, well everyone here.”

“I don’t think that’s possible.”

“You flatter girls to get them in your bed and expect that very thing to happen, don’t you?”

“Uh- well,” he stutters.

You shrug, “doesn’t matter now. I’m just happy to have some company even if it’s just for a minute or two.”

“Well, then I’m happy to be of service.”

You dazzle him with another smile.

This is different from the other times he's gone out with girls.

You lift your watch to check the time. “Oh, looks like it's time for me to go. Sorry,” you sheepishly shrug as you reach for your bag.

“Uh- oh, okay. Yeah, I guess it’s time I went back to work.”

You get up and barely walk past him when you stop. “Is that you?”

“Is what me?”

“The farm smell?”

His mouth opens into an “o” making it obvious he now knows what you’re talking about. “Oh, yeah. Perks of being a rancher. Sorry about the smell. I didn’t realize it was so bad.”

You shake your head. “No, it’s- it’s not that. It’s just- it's more of a comfort thing. It reminds me of my family because my dad and my cousin are in the ranching business, and this is- the smell of, well the farm, is basically what I grew up with.”

He nods, “okay, good to know I don’t smell too much like shit.”

You chuckle, shaking your head. “Happy to help but I seriously have to go now.”

“Okay.”

You head over to Penny and pay her before saying bye to everyone.

Leonard shakes his head once he sees your car leave. “She sure is something else.” He then heads over to his car, sneakily watching you leave.

He spends the night talking to Rick, watching his kids. “So, you gonna ask her out?”

“Me?” Leonard shakes his head, pulling Rick’s youngest, Javy, away from the fence before his beloved (crazy) goat comes over and towards the edge to scare the kids.

The rancher isn't going to have his headbutting, crossed eyed goat injure another one of his friends' kids (even if it's on them because they didn't listen). “I- no.”

“You like her?”

The kids’ “ooh” at their dad’s comment.

“What? No. She’s just- she’s... busy?”

“Excuses.” He pushes himself off the fence, “come on kids. Your uncle needs alone time to process the fact that he’s a wimp.”

The kids mumble wimp under their breaths as they walk by.

He’s left alone with his thoughts.

“Did she get offered any drugs today?” Mike asks his nephew.

Tom shakes his head, “no and you know she wouldn’t take anything anyway.”

“She wouldn’t know.”

The blond glances over at the older man.

“Don’t give me that look boy.”

Neither of them says anything else as they go their separate ways before going out to the garage so they can repaint the wall.

Nick and Carole walk to the open space, "hey guys."

"Do you know what got her in such a happy mood today?" Mike asks.

The couple glance at one another.

"When we went to get food, Penny said that one of the new ranchers came in and talked to her, but I don't know what happened," Carole tells him.

"A new rancher?"

She nods. "Yeah, he's the only one here who wears his hat twenty-four seven."

"And you don't know anything about this?" Tom asks Nick.

The mustached man narrows his eyes at him, "if we knew anything else we would have told you."

"I'm just checking, mother Goose. No need to get your p-"

Mike smacks his nephew on the back of his head. "Stop it. Nick take another roll and again, thank you for the food, Carole. If you could just-"

"Set it on the counter for later, I'd be happy to."

"How's life been with the baby?"

"It's been great. I know it makes her sad that we can't bring him around here. All they've wanted since they were kids was for their kids to be friends and hangout all the time."

Mike sighs, "yeah."

Carole sneaks up the stairs to check on you. She barely opens the door and sees you standing there, a smile breaks across her face. She's happy to know that you're safe and sound for another day.

The next day is a weird one... for Leonard.

He had no idea what was going to happen when he made his way to the restaurant, and he most certainly wasn’t expecting you to not remember him (and mean it).

Sure, he’s had a few girls say they don’t remember him but after some persuading and mentions of certain clues, they break, this time with you though, not so much.

A few minutes passed after you ran out until someone explained to him why he shouldn’t continue doing what he’s doing.

“Everyone knows but,” Penny sighs. “She was in an accident that killed her mom and left her with what the doctors believe to be permanent brain damage.”

That is the last thing Leonard was expecting to learn about you. “All those light threats make sense now.”

“Now that you know, are you going to keep trying to date her?” Penny asks him. "Because if you’re not and you break her heart, you can just leave now. We won’t tolerate that kind of behavior.”

He nods and finishes his coffee, coming up with a few ideas.

Rick lounges on his couch, as usual, and watches as his friend jots down a few things. “You must really like this girl if you’re so willing to do just about anything for her.”

Leonard shrugs, “I don’t think that’s it.”

“Well, you’re doing something really nice for her, someone you’ve met a few times. As for me, your best friend barely gets a birthday card.”

“You’ve been giving yourself your own gift every year.”

“Oh, yeah and what’s that?”

“Your kids.”

“Damn, you’re good.”

He sits at the counter in front of the kitchen, waiting for you to come in so he can ask to eat with you.

You enter, at the same time as always, greeting Penny and Pete before sitting down to look at the menu.

He stands up and walks over to you, “hey, is this seat taken?”

You look up from the menu, “yeah, that’s my boyfriend's seat.”

“Oh, it is?”

You nod, “and he won’t be happy to know that some random guy sat there while talking to his girlfriend.”

“What if we say we’re just friends?”

“Are we though? I mean, I don’t even know your name.”

“Leonard.”

“I wasn’t asking. Look, I gotta go.”

Everyone hears the commotion outside and runs out to see what’s happening, Penny and Leonard being the fastest to get outside when they hear your voice.

“It’s not- it’s October thirteenth.”

Nick slams his car door closed before rushing over, wrapping his arms around you, wanting to give you some kind of protection.

Leonard takes a step forward, ready to tell the cop everything when Penny gets to him first.

Pete grabs the cowboy, “you and Goose are gonna take her home. She needs to be with her family right now. She needs comfort.”

He nods, taking his words into consideration.

The boys get you into the car, but the ride home is a blur, you don’t even know if you’ve responded to Leonard.

Your father and cousin are outside before you know it.

"What happened?" Mike asks, taking in your state of distress.

Nick looks up at the older man with sad eyes. "She found out again."

He closes his eyes, rubbing his chin.

Tom comes to your other side, the two men helping you inside.

The mustached man stops the rancher before he could step any further onto his front porch. "I'm gonna have to stop you right there."

Leonard furrows his brows. "What do you mean?"

"You being here isn't good for her."

"What does that mean?"

"This is something we've done before. You have never been involved."

"How would you know?"

"You don't know her, and you don't need to concern yourself with her. I'm asking you once and only once. It's time for you to go."

The man turns around, not even waiting to see if he's going to walk away.

Nick peaks through the window, whispering, "what are you doing?"

Leonard rushes closer. "He kicked me out."

"He doesn't want her to be more heartbroken than she is. Are you here for her or for you?"

"What- why are you asking?"

"If you're here because you want to date her, I'll let you in. If not, you can turn your sorry ass around."

He didn't even have to hesitate. "Open the door."

The blond smiles and lifts the windowpane higher. "You said you'd open the door."

"I'd like to not have my ass kicked too bad, thank you."

He rolls his eyes and crawls through, listening to your cries as you listen to what you went through again.

"Can we- I want to talk to the doctor." You quietly hiccup, "I'm sure I've already talked to him but let me go again. Please?" You ask your father.

He nods and you all are off to the facility you were in for some time after your accident.

"It's the same thing I've told you before," Dr. Simpson finishes.

You nod, "I'm sure you have, and I appreciate you taking the time to explain it to me again."

Leonard and Nick were stuck talking to one of the patients, (ten second) Sam.

"Hi, I'm Sam."

They nod and introduce themselves to him and continue to do so until Tom grabs them by their collars, hauling them out of the building.

"You two idiots wanted to stay. Stop getting distracted."

Once you got home, you decided to go to your room and write in your journal, needing to process everything.

"Would it- could I go talk to her?"

Mike silently nods.

"Go get 'em, tiger."

Nick averts his gaze your dad's stern look.

He knocks on the door, waiting for you to answer as he removes his hat.

The door swings open.

You stare at him through your lashes. "What do you want?"

"To talk. Check on you."

"I'm fine. Go home. I'd say I'll talk to you tomorrow, but I'll forget you by midnight." You walk back into your room, leaving the door open.

He takes that as an invitation and enters. "I- uh-"

"I don't want you to feel like you have to stay after everything you’ve learned. I would understand if you didn't want to talk anymore."

"No!" He nearly screams before realizing his mistake and sits down. "I mean, I don't mind it. This- your twenty-four-hour memory is no problem. I- I actually think you're worth getting to know, every day."

You don't give him a verbal response as you nod, unsure of how to respond.

As you two bask in the silence, the other's downstairs are preparing for the next day.

“You coming to the garage or are you going to call Carole?” Tom asks him after his uncle walks out of the room.

“What do you think?”

Your cousin rolls his eyes, “still as lazy as the day I met you.”

“Hey, I am offended.”

“Good.”

Nick shakes his head, mumbling a variety of comebacks that he would never say out loud because he values his life.

Leonard reaches around, rubbing your shoulder, not realizing the time or what’s about to happen.

You wake, opening your eyes and start screaming, alerting everyone in the house.

Tom and Mike make it to your room in no time.

The older man hauls the rancher out of your room and out of the house. “I thought I told you to stay away.”

“You might have.”

“Then why aren’t you?”

“Sir, I really care about your daughter and honestly, the thought of showing her how much I care about her everyday sounds-”

“Like you’ve got some kind of ulterior motive.”

“That hurts. No, I mean, telling her every day that I care for her and making her fall for me again and again. I can’t explain it but, I know I’m the right guy for her. Everyone here cares for her and I’d like to count myself lucky enough to be a part of that community. I know you think I’m messing with her but that’s not true and even if you push me away, I will still be here and continue to stand by her.”

Mike has a lot to think about now.

He nods, “don’t come around today. She needs time to heal and take it all in, you hear me?”

“Yes, sir.”

“I’m sure I'll hear from you later. Now go.”

Leonard smiles as he leaves. He spends the day making a gift, as a precaution he doesn’t come by for a couple of days.

Leonard has a lot of things to think about.

If he stays and builds a relationship with you, he’s going to be putting his dreams on the back burner; something he’s had his mind set on for a long, long time now.

Can he, do it?

Is it worth it?

As much as it hurts him to think about, he needs to. But then he thinks of you again and it is.

He makes a mental note to email his response.

He knocks on the door and Tom answers it. “You’re back? I thought you decided to leave.”

The rancher shakes his head, “nope. Can’t get rid of me that easily. I- uh- I actually made something and I want to play it for her. I don’t know if it’ll help but, you never know.”

He steps aside, giving Leonard enough room to walk by.

“Thanks.”

You and your father enter the living room, seeing him placing the tape in the VHS player.

The tape plays before either of you could ask what's going on.

Your name flashes across the screen, drawing your attention along with mentions of the accident and Bradley, Carole and Nick's son who's four now.

You touch the scar hidden by your hair.

Tom stands back, waiting for what you decide to do.

Mike rubs his hand across his face. "Did you do this?"

He nods. "I did."

You take a deep breath and grab his arm, bringing him with you.

"Where are we going?"

You don't answer him.

"Should I be worried?"

You stop in front of your car. "Do you ever shut up?"

"I could."

"Do it now."

"Stop being mean to me or I swear I'm gonna fall in love with you."

You roll your eyes. "I need to talk to you, and I don't want to do it with my guard dogs nearby."

"Oh, sure."

He opens the door for you, earning a furrowed brow look from you.

You don't say anything as you drive to the one place no one knows about.

"Are we-"

"The accident site, yeah. I didn’t know that at the time but now that I do, it doesn't change the special value it holds."

"That's good." He turns to you, seeing the way you're staring at him. "What?"

"We need to end this."

"End what?"

"You know what."

"Honestly, I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Leonard-"

He cuts you off before you can continue. "You remember my name?"

"If you'd let me get a word in, you'd know that the only reason I know of you is because I have a journal. I've been keeping notes of everything, I just- I never realized it."

"And that means we need to not see each other anymore?"

"Exactly."

"Why?"

"You."

"I'm not following."

"You," you close your eyes, huffing through your nose. "You're so sweet and have been since we first met but you're going to get hurt."

"What makes you think that?"

"You've stayed longer than any guy ever has but to do this every day is just- I know it's a lot."

"It's nothing."

"See, that!" You point at him. "That right there is exactly why I'm ending this. You've got such a pure heart and I can't be the reason it breaks when you realize it's not worth it to stay."

"Who's to say that I'll stop feeling what I do?"

You avoid eye contact as your tears blur your vision. "You will, just like I know how my father and Tom are tired of it. They'll never admit it, but everyone has their breaking point and I think us meeting and seeing each other has pushed theirs. I'm really sorry, I like you. I do but I'm doing this to protect us."

You offer him a weak smile as the tears spill from your eyes and down your cheeks.

Before you leave to go back inside, you hand him your journal.

He pulls you back and kisses you.

Your first kiss with one another and it's amazing but can't last forever.

You pull away, walking inside with heavy steps; barely able to keep yourself together.

Tom nor Mike stops you, but they do make sure to call Nick and Carole, knowing you'll need a good day tomorrow even if you don't remember it.

Leonard doesn't come into the diner for a few days.

Carole sits with you at your job while Rick, Nick, and Pete drive Mike and Tom to see him off.

"What are you guys doing here?"

"We couldn't let you leave without saying goodbye," Rick tells him.

"That's nice but how do you know these guys?" Leonard points between the guys in the group.

"We used to work together before I decided to settle down," his friend explains.

"Is that what you've been telling people?" Pete asks, staring at the man with a confused expression.

Rick glances at the man, "what are you talking about? Of course, that's what I've been telling people. It's the truth."

Pete shrugs, "I just thought-"

"Thought what?"

Nick smacks the two across the back of their heads. "Alright you idiots, there's a time and a place to talk about this. Now is not it."

The two grumbled, rubbing the now sore spot.

"We came here to talk to Wolfman before he left."

"You told them?"

"We all worked for him," Rick points to Mike. "Of course, I'm going to tell them."

"Anyway," the oldest chimes in. "We're here to send you off but not before giving you this." He hands him a CD.

"Really?" The rancher asks, not understanding the sentimental thought behind it just yet.

Mike nods, "I think you'll like it. Check side B, song four. Everything will make sense after that." The older man walks away, letting the others take their time in following.

Nick pats Leonard on the back, saluting him before wishing him luck. "I wish you luck, my friend."

"I'm pretty sure you just jinxed me."

"That's for the theater and you're going to need it one way or another."

The rancher frowns.

Pete chuckles, "you really leaving?"

The blond shrugs. "What else can I do? She told me she doesn't want me, and I can't force myself into her life, you know. Whether she remembers me or not. I'm going to respect her decision."

"That's really nice of you, not everyone would do that."

"I keep telling you I'm not like everyone."

"And I understand why. You're going to do great, kid."

The man in the cowboy hat purses his lips as his brows knit together in confusion. "If I'm not mistaken, we're the same age."

"Potato, potahtoe."

"Not the same."

Pete smirks and slaps his arm before jogging to Mike's car.

"You really want to leave?" Rick asks, standing beside him, resting his arms on the fence. "Because I'm not buying this whole "I can do this" thing. I mean, from what I've heard it sounds like you love her but who am I to assume."

Leonard shakes his head, "you heard wrong."

"That's a load of bull and you know it."

"You'll never know."

"The kids are going to miss you."

"They'll find something else to occupy them."

“You know they won’t.”

“Whatever you say, man.”

Rick’s hand hovers over his friend’s shoulder, he doesn’t pat him like everyone else had (knowing he’ll be back in no time). “You’re an idiot.”

Leonard lets out a dry, “thanks.”

Tom gives him a knowing look, “you know I’m right.”

“If you’re just going to be a jerk, leave with the others. I don’t want to talk to you.”

“You said you were going to stay by her side no matter what. What happened to that guy?”

“She made the decision. She doesn’t want me around; thinks she’s going to save me from heartache or something.”

“You’re an idiot.” Tom walks away, leaving him with his thoughts.

Leonard shakes his head, not understanding half of what just happened; all he knows is that he’s offended. He hops in his truck, his heart heavy and mind full of useless thoughts; he places the CD in the car player.

Half forgetting he’s had the damn thing this whole time and never once thought to use it. He skips to the song Mike told him to play.

He’s barely on the road for ten minutes and gets out of his thoughts, his fingers stop tapping along to the beat on the steering wheel when he slams on the brakes. “Holy shit! Holy- no way. No way!”

His smile is as wide as can be. “I knew the old man liked me.”

He turns the car around and heads towards the office you visited when you were told about the accident again.

He runs through the door, trying to sneak in by the security guards before anyone can kick him out.

“Hey, where do you think you’re going?” He turns to face them, removing his hat.

He shrugs, not saying a word.

Maybe playing dumb would be easier?

The taller of the two stares at him with raised brows as his partner takes in Leonard’s appearance. “Go on in.”

Ron turns to Charles, “what’s wrong with you? What if he was a murderer or some psycho?”

“Did he look like a psycho to you?”

“No but-”

“But nothing. I got good vibes from him.”

“What did you smoke for breakfast?”

“I’m not answering that,” Charles says, checking the computer for today’s schedule.

“If someone gets murdered, I’m not protecting you.”

“Dick move.”

“Cya, man.”

“What?”

Ron pats his shoulder, “cover your ass. I’d remember that if I were you.”

Leonard runs into the room, eyes scanning all around and over anyone in the room, only to not find you, for the moment.

He wanders further into the room, tempted to ask around when he sees ten second Sam and decides not to, there’s too much time that could be wasted and he can’t waste a second right now.

You turn the corner, not noticing him as you help someone outline the outline of their sketch.

A voice calls out to you, and you turn, finding him.

“Hi? Do you- nevermind, stupid question. Could I- uh- could I talk to you for a minute?” He asks.

You know everyone here will be fine for a few minutes. You hesitate to answer him. “I- we can- just- just follow me.”

You two stand in your special art room. “Have we met before?”

His chin juts out. “What?” His eyes wander around the room, finally understanding.

“As you can see, I’ve seen you before. I mean, I know I’ve talked to you, but I don’t remember it. You- you haunt my dreams. I’ve seen us in my favorite restaurant, as if we were on a date and- and I don’t know if it was real or not.” He can see how it’s wracking your brain to try and remember something that won’t be there.

He nods, “we have. We’ve met a few times.”

“That’s all you’re going to say?”

He holds a journal in front of you, “if you really want to find out, read this. It’ll tell you everything.”

You stare at the cover, wondering if you should read it or not.

You hold it close to your chest and stretch your hand out for him. “Hi.”

He raises his brow but shakes your hand. “Hi?”

“We’re starting over.”

“Oh, that makes more sense.”

The door opens, “Hi, “I’m Sam.”

You purse your lips, trying to hold in your laughter.

“And our special moment has a little twist.”

“Leave Sam out?”

He nods, “we’re leaving him out.”

You nod and slowly remove your hand from his. “Hi, I’m Sam.”

“I swear to-”

You push open the door and cover your eyes when the sun hits you. Leonard turns around and smiles at the sight of you looking as beautiful as always. “Hey, you’re up.”

You nod, your eyes landing on your precious baby boy, Jake, pretending to be like his dad with ranching.

“How are you feeling this morning?”

Your daughter, Natasha, runs over to you with her arms open for a hug.

Everyone always says that a mother and her child share a special bond, in this case it’s true because you open your arms and scoop her up, holding her close to you, even if it is a little strange just finding out she’s your daughter after watching the video Leonard made for you.

“I’m okay, a little weird this morning.”

“I don’t blame you.”

You tilt your head up at him, staring at him like you’re trying to memorize his face. “I think Tom’s doing things he shouldn’t.”

He turns around, finding your cousin doing the exact opposite of what he told him to and hands Jake to your father so he can help your cousin from messing up his ranch (any more than he already has). “Son of a-”

“Language!” You and Mike shout.

“I wasn’t going to actually say it,” Leonard tells you two.

You and your dad share a look. “He’s your husband, you take care of it.” And he walks away.

“So rude,” you mumble to yourself.

“Hey guys!” Nick and Carole wave as Bradley runs towards Natasha (who hasn’t left your side until this moment).

You smile and wave back, hugging Carole tightly.

“Let's go inside and see what you have in your kitchen for breakfast.”

You lean in closer to her, whispering, “does he ever eat? I swear he is always raiding my pantry.”

“Fast metabolism.”

“I don’t buy it.”

“Can I tell you something?” She asks.

You nod.

“Neither do I.”

You, Carole, and Nick grimace at the sight of Leonard's friend and his coworker-

"Can they eat each other's faces somewhere else?" Nick mumbles. "I'm trying to eat here."

You and her share a look.

"You're still eating," his wife points out.

He shrugs. "I can't pass up when Sundown cooks. That'd be like disrespecting Penny."

Leonard walks through the door and grimaces. "You two need to stop trying to eat each other and enjoy breakfast. This is not what I imagined when I suggested you two go out."

Charlotte and Rick part from one another, offering weak apologies.

You and Carole can't help but laugh.

The rancher turns around at the sound of your laughter and knows that he wouldn’t trade this for the world.

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thezombieprostitute · 1 year ago

Text

Tenure

A/N: This is yet another entry for @the-slumberparty‘s Bingo. This time I’m mixing together three squares: Professor AU, Caught Redhanded and Enemies. Reader is female.

Warnings: Sexism, bullying, body shaming, workplace sexism

Being an adjunct professor in any field can be such difficult, but rewarding work. Especially if you’re able to get tenure. Today was definitely on the difficult side, made worse by Professor Charles Blackwood, your current competition for the one tenure position available in the department. Even before this the two of you were always at odds. He was a pretentious shit who insisted that your time would be better spent as a housewife, “if you could find a man to take pity on you.” It got so bad you even stopped bringing in baked goods to share because he’d always use them as evidence for his case. But you couldn’t afford to make waves or fight back. He had a rich family to fall back on, you couldn’t afford a blemish on your record.

Today, he brought his friend from the literature department, Professor Drysdale, to use your shared office. Between the two of them, you heard more comments about your size in one hour than you had in an entire month. You tried to bury yourself in work, getting back with students, TA’s, researchers and co-authors. Headphones didn’t help since the conflicting noises of music and a conversation, while trying to focus on work, aggravated you in ways you couldn’t really describe. By the time they left, your jaw, shoulders and neck were all sore from how tense you’d become. Blackwood must be upping his taunting given that the tenure decision was in less than a week but you’d be damned if you let him break you so he could win.

After double checking some of your latest work, you stood up, stretched and refilled your water. You didn’t need to check the time since Curtis, the custodian for your building, was working and that tells you it’s way late and you should be home. You smile and wave at Curtis and he nods in your direction. You quickly run back to your office and grab a couple of cookies you’d brought in for him. You might not bring in baked goods for the department, but you’ll happily still share with a friend.

Well, maybe “friend” was too strong. You shared some food and smiled at him but all you ever really got was an appreciative grunt and an occasional “thank you” note left on your desk. You figured he just wanted to do his job and go home, something you could definitely respect. It can’t be easy, or enjoyable, cleaning up after college students for a living. Still, you hated hoarding your baked goods and Curtis was safe enough to share with. At the very least, he never told you to give up your work.

“I hope you like them,” you said as you handed him a small bag of cookies. “It’s a new recipe and I’d love to hear if they’re actually good or if it’s just me.” Curtis put the bag in his pack and nodded. Sensing you weren’t going to get anything else from him, you turned and went back to your office.

The day of the decision comes faster than you expected. Blackwood had Drysdale visit him often and the resulting stress was affecting everything in your life. You’d even burned a batch of cookies for the first time in years. You thought you were hiding the stress well, no one seemed to comment, but you did notice Curtis was actually checking in on you. For others it would likely be a small gesture but to you, it was everything you needed to keep going without crying.

You and Blackwood are in your shared office when you both receive your emails. You get two sentences in before you read, “we’ve decided to go with Prof. Blackwood for the position.” You feel so defeated, deflated and defective. You don’t bother looking at Blackwood, knowing he’s wearing his smug smirk and watching for you to start crying.

“I told you,” Blackwood sneered, “you shouldn’t be here. You need to find yourself a blind husband and just focus on your domestic skills.”

“Please, just leave me alone,” you whisper. “You’ve won. You don’t need to bother yourself with me any more.”

“I could always offer you a consolation prize.”

“I want nothing from you other than to leave me alone.”

“But you’re so much fun to poke at! You never strike back and it makes me even more eager to be the one that finally breaks your resolve. The one that gets to finally see your tears, to earn your tears.”

“Charles, I’m too tired to give you what you want. If you aren’t going to leave me alone, I’ll just go ahead and head out for the day.” You start to pack up your work and Blackwood almost looks like he’s going to throw a fit.

“No, you will not!” He stands up, using his height to stare down at you and look more menacing. “This is my victory and I will have my prize! Now cry for me like the good girl you are.”

“Ahem…” you hear a fake cough at the door and turn to see Curtis standing there, with his phone out, very clearly recording the interaction. You turn back to Blackwood and see him go pale before he starts walking towards Curtis.

“You’re going to delete that video,” Blackwood orders. “I’m a tenured professor with connections and I will have your job otherwise!”

Curtis doesn’t move and you see the corners of his mouth turn up into an almost smile. The much larger man doesn’t put away the phone and replies, “I’m the Custodian, I’ve got dirt on everyone. And that includes those connections you used to get that tenure.” Blackwood stops his advance and you see him practically vibrating with rage, or maybe it’s fear. “Now apologize to the lady.”

“That’s not needed,” you interject. “I know it wouldn’t be sincere.”

“Want me to get him to turn down the job? I can do that in a few ways.”

“No, but thank you, very much.” Part of you enjoys talking about Blackwood as if he wasn’t there. “If I were to take the job I’d have to keep watching my back because they’d get rid of me or treat me like shit at every turn.”

Curtis finally puts away his phone, walks past Blackwood and holds out his hand to you. “I’m gonna miss you, but I respect your decision.” You shake his hand and give him a tired smile. “With your permission,” he continues, “I’d like to keep an eye on you until you leave. Make sure this one doesn’t keep bothering you.” He points to Blackwood who still looks to be in a state of shock.

“I’d really appreciate that, Curtis. Thank you.”

It’s been several years since then and you’ve really found your place, professionally and (if things with the cute, muscular IT guy keep going well) personally. You’re hard at work setting up the syllabus for next semester when you get a phone call.

“Hello, this is Y/N Y/L/N. How may I help you?”

“Hello Prof. Y/L/N, this is Dean Vernon at Mathematics And and Research Sciences University. I’m calling about a reference.”

“Oh, okay. Would you please tell me who listed me?” You’re not surprised at the call, several of your former students have put you down as a reference and you’re happy to support them.

“It’s Professor Charles Blackwood,” Dean Vernon responded. “He’s applying for an adjunct professorship with us.”

Your mouth drops and you’re quiet for so long Dean Vernon asks, “are you still there?”

“Yes,” you snap out of your shock, “yes, I’m just surprised is all. Last I saw him, he had just gotten tenure.”

“Well that’s part of why I’m calling,” Vernon continued. “Per his credentials, he really should be in a better position. Can you tell me about your experience working with him?”

You chuckle quietly at the incredible position you find yourself in. You allow yourself to smile wide and tell him, “if you hire Professor Blackwood, you are opening yourself up to a lot of lawsuits. Last I saw him, he was trying to make me cry for the fun of it. I can only think that he listed me as a reference because he thought I’d still act like I was under his thumb. Thankfully, I’m not and can warn you not to hire him. Keep your own employees safe and do. Not. Hire. Him.”

The phone is quiet for a bit before Dean Vernon says, “thank you for the information” and hangs up. The rest of your day is spent with a big smile on your face.

A/N2: please let me know if you found the Futurama reference.

#navy and roo's sleepover #charles blackwood x reader #charles blackwood #platonic!curtis everett x reader #curtis everett x reader #curtis everett #professor!charles blackwood

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ecofinisher · 2 years ago

Text

All the Sims that appear in "Ecofinisher's Sims 4 Base Game file" - Part 3/6

I forgot, what was the reason I wanted to do this bio, but here it is.

This post focuses on the Sims, that live in Oasis Springs. Both self-made and gallery-taken Sims.

ROLLOOS (Mia, Jacobs and Kristel Rolloos)

Summary: They don't really get along.

MCKENZIE (Milan and Taron McKenzie. Beatrix, Josine and Angel McKenzie)

Summary: Angel spends all her day inside her house on the couch watching TV and only leaves the house to do the shopping or go out with her boyfriend Derek. Despite not being registered at social center Angel seems to make money somehow and according to her it’s with painting. People, who know her do find it strange about how fast she paints so many canvas in only one day. Is she really doing all those paintings by herself or is someone secretly helping her?

DEREK SHEPPARD

Summary: Derek is engaged to his neighbor Angel and taking things the easy way. He is aware, that the neighborhood are curious about how quick his fiancé gets money out of paintings. He knows it's not the nicest way, but he tries to be sympathic with the kids to gain their trust. Is he keeping all this for himself? Will he continue living with the knowledge of the kids inside the fiancé's cellar? Is it worth to exploit the children’s talents daily?

COOPER-HOFMAN (Chase and Skye Cooper. April and Winter Hofman. Remo Dyk and XXXX Hofman)

Summary: AprilandHunter are happily married for years. When they hear, their single parent have finally found a new partner, they wanted immediately to meet that person. The worst part of all this issue is, that their parent happen to be dating each other’s in-law…….

BLACKWOOD (Betty Blackwood and Charles Abdhoul)

Summary: Betty had lost her husband on a tragic accident at the swimming pool. Interestingly, it’s the third time in the past four years this had happened to her. A big fortune was left back from each husband to her and Betty isn’t as sad as people assume. On the other hand, she “eventually” had her hands on the game. Planning to have the same thing happen to her fourth husband, she figures out, he donated all his money to prove her, both are able to live together without that amount of cash, thus enraging the raven-haired woman. Will she put an end to this marriage? Will she still do the same thing as always or will things this time be different?

PARTY GIRLS (Guadelope Noceda, Uma Park, Zendaya Jones and Zaine Furaha)

Summary: Zaine, Zendaya, Uma and Guadalope are best friends since the start of high school. Upon leaving it the quartet created a WG together to form their lives together. Uma kind of has HEIMWEH from her family and was used to have her own privacy. Her friends assured her, it will change and promised to help her “get rid of her introverted behavior” and take her to house parties of other friends to all have fun together. Uma does those favors to her friends wanting to prove them, that she can be “fun” too, but this seems to be more stressing for Uma, than anything else. Should she tell her friends, how she feels about it? Will they understand her point of view?

NORGAY (Jin, Yi and Sihena Norgay. Peng Loh)

Summary: Peng was sent to live wit his older cousin, as his parents weren't able to take care of him due to their work. Upon seeing, that both his close friends are now married and expecting he's curious about the adventure, that he will experience around the soon-to-be-parents....

LEAGUE OF LEGENDS / LOL (Raiden Soto, Trevor Launtner and Nathaniel Kurtzberg)

Summary: Raiden, Nathaniel and Trevor are avid gamers and Willow Creek’s most famous LOL-players. Both moved together upon knowing each other as skilled gamers and together they have given each other in their lives two rules. Always have fun and bros before woobs. Basically, the trio are single by their own will and avoid any possible romantic interest with anyone. Works fine for them so far. One strange thing Nathaniel has been chatting lately with a foreign person over the internet...

END NOTE

Presumed and marked with ???? Sims I wasn't able to find their owner again and on my gallery they were tagged as "mine", when I actually had saved them and changed their clothes to "base game".

All Sims are split into 6 blog posts due to the limitation of images.

'm looking forward to sharing each household separately into my gallery in the next 48h for anyone who's interested in specific ones only.

#the sims #the sims 4 #sims 4 game file #the sims 4 base game #ecofinisher #information

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marlasomething · 2 years ago

Text

(my) Mag a Week: Natural Destruction

Before anything: next week there won’t me another “chapter” of these, I am going on holiday.

Hello there!

I am participating in the "a mag a day" idea which is BRILLIANT and I decided to do "statement a week", rolling dice with the characters and fears that were ftw that week in the episodes I have listened.

This week I am a bit late, sorry, life. For today I rolled Archivist!Martin Blackwood and The Extinction (Eps. 147-155).

As usual, please do forgive my quick tipper and non-native speaker mistakes, Marla

Allons-y!

CW: mentions of murder, self-harm, swearing, toxic family dynamics

Also on AO3!

Statement of Mary Cage, regarding the re-appearance of her twin children, almost a decade after they disappeared in the first place.

Audio recording by Basira Hussain; The Archivist.

Statement begins.

I never wanted children; all I ever wanted was a legacy and children were the easiest way of getting one. If you ask me, the best option is to have three kids, so at least one will be worth saving , even if it just because he or she wants to prove to be less of a disappointment than the other siblings.

I know it sounds harsh, but it is what it is. One of my children needed to outlive me in a manner in which I would never be completely forgotten; it is not an affair to let completely to luck and randomness.

Therefore, that is exactly what I did: I had three children, my beautiful precious Rosalind and her older brothers, Charles and Jack. I recall thinking for a very long time I got lucky, since I had two thirds of the work done at once…now, I am not so sure, perhaps I will still have one viable child if they hadn’t been that close…Maybe they wouldn’t have disappeared at all.

It wasn’t long before I knew Charles and Jack wouldn’t make it in this world in any significate way. It wasn’t that they were bad, or stupid, or especially clumsy; they just weren’t enough of anything. It was so, that I started to feel laziness towards them, as if they weren’t worth my time. And, then, Rosalind was born and, even though she was the blandest baby I have ever seen, she brightened up my life. After all, her emptiness meant that she had all the potential to be moulded into anything. Not only that but, as she grew older, she proved to have absolutely no mind of her own, yet a brain so powerful she was quickly to understand everything, memorise almost all data and even be sensitive with people in a manner not even mental health professionals can be.

In other words: I have my child and, also, two other kids who also happened to share my blood.

Since the only complain I used to have about Rosalind was how fragile her health was in summer (and only summer, we still don’t know the reason behind this), this was the part of the year where most annoying I found those other two needed mouths.

I wanted them so badly not to be there, to not keep occupying space and oxygen and even part of my capacity of loving …but I couldn’t, at least, not directly.

Perhaps leaving the door open before taking Rosalind to the hospital wasn’t that incidental, maybe, only contacting the authorities, no PI mixed on trying to get them back…maybe I was glad they were gone.

Maybe, now, like this, I could work more and better in the perfect offspring I had always deserved.

The next nine to ten years were uneventful. Rosalind was growing into the very exact person I wanted her to be, my husband was just a presence that did his part (and I make no illusions he thought any other way about me) and things were…as they were supposed to. I made a world for myself and, yes, that can become rather tedious from time to time, but the overall is safe, nice. A perfect design in which the faults of our reality mattered no more.

With, of course, the extra-safety of knowing that, no matter what, everything I was would be carry on thanks to my wonderful only daughter.

Then, her siblings re-appeared.

If there was any doubt it was the teenage version of the boys that had gone missing almost a decade ago, it was corroborated by the DNA test my husband and I almost violently insisted to be done to them the moment it was legally allowed to do so.

At first, they were silent, and we were afraid they had become some simpletons with more animal than human instincts, but we were wrong: they were just shy, scared of being pushed into the streets…just as I should have done.

Their story was quite simple, actually: the twins had gone lost in the woods, where they had found a couple determined to live without the poison that is Western Civilization (their words, not mine), the pair had adopted them, turned out to be far more literate than most teachers we could have found for the pair and eventually died. So they had chosen to come out, arguing that “even we like what we were taught, we want to believe there can still be hope for our species”. We couldn’t do nothing and, after all, all they did was to eat more expensive (and healthier, according to them) than before and speak certain nonsense to whomever was there to listen.

However, one day, their audience was different than the usual.

One day, the audience was Rosalind.

I just wished she had cut her ears off beforehand.

I know that, deep down, the twins meant nothing with what they said. They did believe their charged rhetoric, but that was it: there were no brainwashing shady second intentions to their speech.

Still, they should have realised that Rosalind wasn’t the ideal person to listen to a fiery discourse without taking out the most dramatic conclusions and how to act upon them.

The entire concept of the human species destroying a place that is not own by us more than a flower or the oceans infuriated her up to the point that she actively refused to take any means of transportation other than one of her three bikes or her very own feet.

This only affected her, but then she started to interfere with her father and I, trying to throw away or donate those clothes that we had tailor-made for one concrete event, changing our daily menus and even meal times, calling to cancel all our television subscriptions…I don’t know how she did it so efficiently in so little time, but before we could even began to react, we were in the most Spartan house I could even begin to conceive in the twenty-first century.

Meanwhile, the monster of teenagers my oldest children had become just kept a perpetual smug face, as if they were proud of their influence in their baby sister. They weren’t so high and mighty when Rosalind decided ( found out , according to her) that she wasn’t doing enough.

And so she went to her next phase.

I recalled the disgust I felt when I saw my beautiful perfect Rosalind staring at a mirror, at her beauty untarnished and simply started to scratch her face. First almost gently, then with such fervour pieces of skin were falling to the floor, right next to a mirror.

I gasped and tried to stop her without being harmed in the way (she was much stronger than she looked and my bones are fragile), to what she only reacted by lowering her arms and calming me, saying that she had had enough, that it was just “not fair” that someone like her got so much when other people were being condemned just for the factions they got at birth.

I immediately sent her to her room and called her father and siblings to the living room. It would be shameful, but I was completely willing to put her in an asylum if that could help. Yes, sorry, that word is not politically correct but, if you see your life project mutilating herself out of some nonsense her estranged brothers muttered without even being firm believers (they are already back to the sports team and playing X-Box every other day, for fuck’s shake!)….you wouldn’t care either about what should be said.

However, what was so clear to me wasn’t to my useless husband and even more dead loss children. They began to say I was being “too much myself” (whatever that meant) and we spent hours arguing. By the time I had managed to convince them, we went upstairs…

…to find the lifeless body of Rosalind, who had been mutilating herself until she had died. Apparently, of blood loss.

With some…I hope it was just blood, she had written in the floor “that is what Humanity deserves”.

At first, I thought it was bit too extreme. I could understand the pressure getting to her, her weak mind falling for certain moralities and even the self-harm. After all, it isn’t as if I hadn’t been her age…the message, though? That was beyond worrying, my child hadn’t been that crazy, been that wrongly made. She was a vision, not a nightmare; she shouldn’t have believed that.

So, as I mourned the empty casket we buried (there was a break in the funerary the night before and the bastards that did it took a few corpses apart from every single item of value), I started to wonder how she could have come to that conclusion, to the almost stated fact that Humanity deserved ugliness and annihilation…then, I understood it.

It wasn’t my daughter who had been at fault, not even my now also deceased stupidly insidious twins; it had been this rotten planet of ours. This place is ungrateful to us, the species who managed to turn it from a jungle filled with irrational parasites to the garden of refinement and progress it is today.

I will avenge my daughter and, with her, also myself. I am making my personal mission to scorch this world to the ground; I am even making sure no remains of those I might end in my path can be used by the Earth as its personal fertiliser.

Please, if I am writing to you it is because you are people of thought and intellect and I wish nothing but to spread my word to those who could understand it.

Help me consume this planet.

Statement ends.

The more time I spend as The Archivist, the most certain I am this whole classification of fears is pure bullshit that we had turned real after inventing it. Yes, I know that our new director that doesn’t have at all Elias’ eyes and speaks just like the bastard Jon went to jail for rightfully murdering him is giving me this statements about The Extinction as this new threat that is rising from the shadows but, in all honesty? If it is real, it is just re-contextualizing other elements that people following these alleged Fears.

About the statement itself, I could look into it, even look into it properly; but I would rather go have a drink with my equally doomed mates, taking advantage of our new director curiously connecting so quickly with Lukas…

End recording.

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