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wanderinginksplot · 4 years ago

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Nobody Listens to Kix

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Case 00506: Jesse

"Well, at least it went straight through," Kix commented, examining the back of Jesse's blaster wound.

"It's a blaster bolt," Jesse groused, his voice tight with pain. "They all go straight through."

"Yes, but it didn't hit anything vital," Kix disagreed. "That's not something you can say about a lot of injuries affecting this part of the body. An inch in the wrong direction, and you would have been dead, helmet or no. You got lucky, Jesse."

Kix stood to retrieve an armful of items from the medical cabinet, but paused when he saw an expression that could only be described as pouting on Jesse's face. "Why are you making that face, trooper? Is there another injury I should know about?"

"No," Jesse said flatly, trying to turn away from Kix, but the motion only aggravated the neat wound in his trapezoid. He winced and went back to facing the same direction as he had been before.

Deciding to leave it alone for now, Kix gathered the few supplies he needed and came back to Jesse's bedside. "I'll need you to tilt your head in the other direction."

With a small, pain-filled noise, Jesse did as Kix had asked, stretching the wounded muscle connecting his neck with his shoulder. Kix set to work disinfecting the injury, a process that Jesse endured as stoically as he could manage.

While he worked, Kix puzzled over Jesse's odd reaction to his injury. Jesse had seemed pained, of course, but he had also been embarrassed. Hardly the reaction Kix would have expected from the trooper. Jesse wasn't overly cocky, but he certainly enjoyed being in the spotlight.

"What happened?" Kix asked bluntly, deciding that being direct was his best chance of getting the truth.

"I got shot," Jesse answered simply. Kix pressed a bit harder with a disinfecting wipe than was strictly necessary and Jesse let out a yelp and glared at him. The medic gave a small shrug as if to apologize and Jesse sighed. "I wasn't paying attention in the field and I didn't see a super battle droid approaching."

Kix huffed out a breath. That was a bad mistake to make. Super battle droids were far superior to basic battle droids, but they weren't exactly on commando droid level when it came to subtlety. "How far away was it?"

"A little more than a klick."

"I didn't know SBDs had sniper capabilities," Kix commented.

"They normally don't, but Fives found out that it had been augmented by the Seppies," Jesse said, voice bitter.

Ah, now things were starting to make sense. Since he had first become part of the 501st, Jesse had idolized the older Fives. "I had heard he and Echo were sent back to us for a few missions. How does he like being an ARC?"

"He says it's great, but a lot of responsibility," Jesse admitted. "I was asking him about the training when he pushed me out of the way. If he hadn't seen the droid, I would have died on Er'Kit."

The disgruntled tone in Jesse's voice was something Kix couldn't begrudge him. Er'Kit was no place to die, especially from a blaster shot by a droid. "Well, sounds like Fives was in the right place at the right time with his rangefinder pointed in the right direction. I'm sure he was glad to help you out."

"Yeah, I guess," Jesse said morosely, wincing as Kix started applying the bacta in long sweeping motions. "But maybe I'm not ARC material after all."

"That's not true," Kix said matter-of-factly. "I've seen you think on your feet, help the other troopers, and work independently better than most of the other men. Those are all signs of an ARC trooper. Just because you made a mistake doesn't mean that you're automatically out of the running. It wasn't even much of a mistake. A klick is a pretty far distance. Not many men would expect a droid sniper attack from that distance."

"Fives noticed," Jesse returned bitterly.

"Lucky for you," Kix reminded. "You may not remember this since it was right around the time that you were brought into the 501st, but Fives made more rookie mistakes than most troopers in the legion. Hell, he made more mistakes than most of the GAR and he's an ARC trooper now. You've got hope, kid."

"Kid?" Jesse repeated, aghast at the designation.

Kix shrugged. "As long as you insist on idolizing Fives, of all troopers, I'm going to call you 'kid'. He's a good man, but he'd be the first to tell you not to follow his example. Point is, he saved your life today. You saved the lives of two men on Socorro last week. Focus on doing your best work instead of what other troopers are doing and I promise you'll rise in the ranks. Understood?"

"Yes, sir," Jesse said sarcastically, but his smile was genuine as Kix affixed a bacta patch on either side of the wound and placed Jesse's arm in a sling.

"You'll have to stay here for a few hours while I monitor the progress of your healing," Kix warned him.

"That's okay, I could use a nap," Jesse agreed, settling easily against the flat pillow. "Thanks for everything, Kix."

Kix nodded back at him and went to start the paperwork on the injury. Thankfully, very few troopers had been injured on Er'Kit and he appreciated the lack of additions to his stack of forms, especially since he was falling ever further behind.

He wasn't even shocked when Fives and Echo stepped into the medbay an hour or so later.

"Hey, Kix!" Fives greeted, his voice ringing through the nearly-empty medbay. "We're here to see-"

"He's back there," Kix interrupted, pointing toward the section housing the beds. "If he's asleep, leave him alone."

"Good to see you, too," Fives grumbled even as Echo grinned.

Kix stood abruptly and Fives's eyes widened as he clearly wondered what the medic was going to do. Behind him, Echo glanced between the two like he was watching a bolo-ball match.

Kix braced his hands on the desk and leaned across it slightly. "Congratulations to both of you on becoming ARCs. I've never known two men who deserve it more. Fives, thank you for saving Jesse's life. I'm glad you're back with us, even if it's just for a few missions."

"Glad I could help," Fives said slowly, then grinned. "Jesse's a good man, even if he's a little… er, over-enthusiastic."

"Over-enthusiastic?"

"You're calling someone over-enthusiastic?"

Fives scowled at Echo and Kix's simultaneous and incredulous questions. "Fine, fine. I was worse. Probably still am. You don't have to gang up on me. I'm going to talk to Jesse now. At least he likes me."

As Fives and Echo stepped through the privacy wall and went to visit Jesse, Kix rolled his eyes and returned his focus to his paperwork. If there was a small smile on his face, he would never admit it.

---

A/N: Please feel free to reblog my work! I’m always trying to find friends and fellow Clone Wars fans, and the exposure really does help!

#Nobody Listens to Kix #star wars the clone wars #clone trooper kix #clone trooper jesse #clone trooper fives #clone trooper echo #clone troopers deserve better #one-shot #but part of a series #more to come

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hoodoobarbie · 4 years ago

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Contemplative, Critical Analysis of Social Division within the Black Community.

A research paper by Hoodoo Barbie - published 6/8/21

Prelude

I am a neurodivergent, spiritual black woman who lives with high functioning adhd and chronical illness while living in America. This condition means i’m prone to moments of constantly fluctuating mental agility which makes me able or intensely disabled, at random. A part of this experience is dealing with consistent hyperactive analysis of in my daily life. This can be extremely debilitating at times and has taken years of labor, intensive training and other various resources, to stop seeing this condition as impairment, and begin using it to help myself and others in my professional and private life.

Lately the nuance of divisive minutiae of racial experiences, has become increasingly fascinating to my neurodivergent brain. Making me eager to use my gift to clarify these aspects, for the betterment of the collective. This contemplative analysis is currently limited to the American black experience but this may change in the future. In the meantime its important to highlight it is not intended to generalize the black collective globally. My hope is to bring more clarity and light to our systemic issues, by spreading this through out this system, to unravel system racism.

Non black POC who read this, have permission to use this discourse as educational tool for themselves and their communities. This is not a invitation to speak over, invalidate, or hinder discourse between black individuals. The commentary of non black poc is encouraged, but with the realized expectation that you are a guest in this space.

White individuals can reblog or spread this discourse, to educate their own peers, but do not have my consent to invalidate, interact, engage, antagonize or offer argumentative discourse with other poc in this space. On this post white social commentary is intentionally limited to discourse and engagement with each other.

Violators of these expectations should expect to be blocked, bound and handled spiritually by my religious custom.

Critical race theory always requires mental labor and takes a extreme toll on mental and physical health. Compiling this paper was a monumental, exhaustive act within itself. Therefore, I reserve the right to ignore or block anyone, for any reason as a self respected individual.

Thesis of Intentional Systemic Division in the American Black Collective

The collective dialogue on systemic division is currently out of date. This discussion, is heavily reliant on the shared knowledge of previous generations and hasn't reflected the current nuisances of the new generations, our social progress and its changes. It’s important to highlight the experience of previous generations and not invalidate them, while also consistently update the social evolution of this divide, for each each generation. While this research paper is intended to be educational, may it also serve as a call to action. Systemic racism is always consistently evolving. It’s important to educate each new generation of this expectation, to encourage consistent dialogue to promote our continuous evolution and self reflection and understanding our own experiences.

The current intentional divisional systemic divide of the two groups within the American black collective, has become become unbearable tense and stagnant. This corrosive toxicity worsens communal relations and the growing divide.

The purpose of this paper is to explain, educate and provide a simple working solution for this issue, for the intent of betterment and unification of our community.

Understanding The Social Divide - Cause & Effect

The black American collective, is separated by two main social groups, the mainstream insulated black adjacent and the hidden isolated white adjacent. Each group is socialized to experience whiteness differently within the system, so whiteness can protect itself. A atmosphere of confusion and distrust is consistently fostered, to keep everyone at each other throats. This is blatant ‘psychological warfare’.

The insular mainstream black adjacent community is given the privilege of being the voice of the entire community, within whiteness. This is done intentionally to cause further division between the suburban white adjacent who silenced and hidden. This leaves a critical question to be asked. Why ? Looking back historically, we know whiteness will systemically oppress, gaslight and repress any group that poses a potential threat to its construct.

It’s important to note this nuance because while everyone within the system is oppressed, everyone is not also repressed. If everyone continuously experienced the same thing systemically, it would make it easy to destroy the system. Whiteness survives by perpetuating two means of confusion, to confuse and destabilize everyone.

Oppression is actively conscious, while Repression is unconscious. This results in creating two marginalized groups, one who is socialized to be consciously socially aware of their subjugated oppression and oppressor and another who is socialized to be unconscious of their subjugated oppression and oppressor which also actively represses them.

Whiteness consistently weaponizes these subtle psychological tactics, to control the narrative by manipulating and dividing each collective of POC. This begs a further question, does whiteness see the black adjacent community as less threatening when compared to the suburban white adjacent ?

Regardless these two groups are actively systemically divided, one group is mainstream while being simultaneously is oppressed and the other issue intentionally silenced while being oppressed and repressed.

Whiteness always rewards the mainstream oppressed group by socializing them to contribute in the repression of silenced repressed. Whiteness rewards the silenced repressed group when they allow themselves to be weaponized against mainstream oppressed. This tricky little tactic leads to a never ending circle of division and gleefully manipulation while whiteness chuckles quietly in the background.

Analysis of the Collective Social Divide of the Oppressed Mainstream & Repressed Hidden Collectively.

‘Socially Oppressed and Mainstream - Influential, Popular and Hated The Voice of The Black Adjacent Community

The mainstream black community exists in a black adjacent bubble, separate from the full glare of the white gaze. This has considerable pro’s and con’s, in it’s group. This group is socialized to expect potentially deadly macro-aggressions any time at random, so they are constantly on guard. There is also a implied expectation of possible community support and safe places, which may provide a degree of privacy from whiteness. Macroaggressions are influenced by class, especially in lower income communities. Class levels fluctuate continuously due to systemic economic racism. A middle class insulated community, can easily become poor overnight. Great examples of this include cities like; Ferguson and Flint, Michigan. Middle, upper and wealthy black communities also exist under this threat. Upper class black communities, that are more stable; live with fear of being completely victims of genocide and total annihilation. Great examples of prosperous black establishments that were destroyed, are Tulsa, Seneca village and Bruce Beach. Microaggressions are barely processed at all in comparison and if they are, they usually seen as less threatening.

Inherited genetic and ancestral bias, is heavily prevalent when dealing with mental health. The lack of acknowledgment, within this is rooted in unhealed trauma and valid mistrust of the racist medical establishment. Unfortunately this breeds a lack of social awareness and education, perpetuating a horrible collective cost and socialized ignorance, when confronted with these issues. The black adjacent community is processed as the only experience in the valid experience within white social construct and is rewarded when they reinforce this ideal, contributing to the repression of silenced suburban white adjacent voices. Black adjacent individuals can make strides against this narrative, encouraging more black medical professionals within their spaces.

Whiteness benefits from this narrative, so it encourages and rewards those who contribute to it. This enforced predatory reward system is intended to to control, manipulate and abuse people, especially those existing in a state of financial disadvantage. This breeds a perfect atmosphere of division and confusion, that destroys everything within it’s path. Intentionally, black adjacent mental health issues are ignored, to influences their control over mainstream black adjacent narrative and media. The white monopoly of the economic resources is constantly used to antagonize, distract and bait. Whiteness doesn't benefit from healthy discourse on the collective mental health issues of the black community because it contradicts their narrative. This is why unhealthy poisoned distractions are monetized intentionally in black adjacent communities, to influence white and other poc’s perspective of that specific community. This is intended to foster bias, cultivate ignorance, lack of empathy, make it harder to create alliances and poc solidarity . Luckily more people in black adjacent spaces recognize or call out these effects while working on advocating, educating and deconstructing this narrative. However, this process will take to several generations to sort itself out, as it’s a fairly new development generationally. Since the black adjacent community is given the position of representing of the black American collective experience globally, it’s important to understand this nuance. .

This is achieved confronting internalized social trauma and unpacking why we are socialized this way. This is done by creating more dialogue of our differences and highlighting the repressed suburban black experience. A great place to start is to observing how black adjacent folks process subtle microaggressions in in contrast to violent, potentially deadly macroaggressions, in comparison to suburban white adjacent. Black adjacent individuals are socialized to be on high alert for violent macroaggressions, constantly. This creates a different processing experience. When microaggressions happen, these individuals might experience intense feelings of relief, apathetic numbness, subconsciously ignore or may not even recognize when it’s happening. This is drastically different in comparison to the suburban white adjacent.

‘Socially Repressed and Hidden. Silenced, White adjacent and Isolated - The Suburban Black Individual Without Community.’

There is no community for any poc in suburban white adjacent space. Suburban folks are socialized to believe in cooperative integrative existence and the false promise of safety spaces within these structures, under every present threat of assimilation. There is no privacy place from the intensity of white gaze, as every day is constant masked performance, outside of their home. Suburban black communities within these spaces are myth, and do not actually exist. The suburban black individual experience is isolated and restrictive. All forms of communal growth are processed as a threat within the system, because whiteness has no interest in actual integration outside of cultural theft. To progress, individuals existing within these spaces must learn nuances o as a means of survival and to assimilate. White adjacent exist in state of oppression, while also being heavily repressed. Their experiences are often invalidated because whiteness refuses to the same standing as those who are black adjacent. Here, whiteness prefers passive pretense of social tolerance so it can vehemently deny it’s aggressive. This drastically differs from it’s more openly aggressive stance with dealing with black adjacent individuals or their communities. Black adjacent folks who are not socialized to be familiar with this drastic adjustment may be lulled into a false sense of security, while experiencing feelings of irritation, confusion, and jealousy when dealing with suburban black individuals who are white adjacent or in their spaces.

Microaggressions in the white adjacent space, are intended passively tone police while gaslighting and disguising the veiled threat of a potentially deadly macroaggressions. White adjacent individuals who are aware of this, are socialized to be on high alert for both micro and macroaggressions constantly. They are also more consistently micro aggressed, then their black adjacent peers in these environments due to their proximity to whiteness. The mental health toll of this is massive and contributes to a culture of shame, repression and silence. However there is some hope! Because of this some white adjacent individuals may be more prone to reach out for help when it comes to their mental health, as a survival mechanism. Unfortunately this experience can also be very traumatic due their proximity to whiteness because often the mental health professionals they seek are only available in black adjacent communities, which isolates them even further.

Meanwhile White people, in these spaces are socialized from birth, to feed into a state of ignorance and historical revisionism, which forms a bubble, to seduce, isolate, infantilize, brainwash, confuse and foster attitudes of cognitive dissonance, creating a perpetual state of aggravating white fragility. This mindset isolates and punishes white individuals who attempt to break free of it within the system and also gaslights POC who attempt calling it out. This creates a state of plausibility deniability as a means of distancing itself from responsibility. As a daily occurrence that suburban black folks experience differently individually, while lacking real communal structure, it’s destabilizing and demoralizing. Generally white adjacent are socialized to have no social defense and may not even recognize micro or macroaggressions, while experiencing them simultaneously. This may seem incredulous to black adjacent folks, who have been trained to be on high alert from birth. Adding insult to injury this is further weaponized by whiteness and often these unassuming white adjacent people are used as violent pawns, against the black adjacent. The few white adjacent individuals who do become socially aware of this, then experience the violent consequence of awakening within the system, while enduring increased stress of white proximity. This usually results in a inevitable mental breakdown where these individuals are then forced to pick a path.

They are forced to choose or deal with the following,

1) Assimilation for economic benefit, furthering the social divide and becoming more isolated as they are weaponized against the black adjacent collective. This usually results in massive mental breakdowns and the possibility of various physical ailments due to the stress of keeping up this façade. This always ends horrifically without a positive outcome.

2.) Mentally ill social advocates. These people are often aware of the nuances of their social experiences and want to bring more awareness by deconstructing and unpacking them. Their proximity to whiteness often gives them crucial insights black adjacent people may miss or lack. These people may or may not assimilate into whiteness.

3.) The stagnant, who exist in a state of confused neutrality. These are people who’s mentally health issues in white proximity may have become so severe they are mentally trapped. The people don’t possess the means to do anything about this situation, because they are so severely disabled by whiteness.

In Conclusion - Presenting A Solution

The social division of these two groups in the black American collective, is obviously intentional. The division of their social differences is weaponized by whiteness as a protective mechanism, sowing seeds of distrust, to prevent the total unification of the collective.

Insulated black adjacent communities, do not understand their value as their voice within black American community, while being actively oppressed. They have a responsibility to uplift the suburban black voices, while confronting their own internalized biases of the hidden white adjacent suburbia. They need to call out and dead harmful perspectives, while actively contributing to their repression and silence. Gaslighting, needs to be called out and unlearned especially they have been socialized do this as reflex by whiteness.

White adjacent black individuals must learn to speak up and find their voice, while being actively repressed. They cannot expect the black adjacent to understand them automatically. They must overcome their own systemic naivety and fragility by understanding why they are distrusted. They also have a responsibility to educate other white adjacent individuals, so they aren't weaponized by whiteness.

All of this labor is extremely exhausting but necessary to completely deconstruct the systemic structure.

Both sides need to understand that whiteness fears this discourse and change because it will lead to the complete unification of the black collective, which is why whiteness has a vested interest in the continued social division of these two groups.

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purkinje-effect · 4 years ago

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The Anatomy of Melancholy, (20)77: Caught Up in the Moment

Table of Contents. Third Instar, Chapter 8. Go to Previous. Go to Next. TWs: Food/meat, implied digestive trouble, unapologetic medical fetishization, brief grievous memory association, smoking. Seventy-seven is a sentimental number for me.

“...[C]lothes do not merely make the man, the clothes are the man; that without them he is a cipher, a vacancy, a nobody, a nothing.” -- Mark Twain’s “Czar’s Soliloquy”

Likes, reblogs, comments, and follows all mean a great deal to me! You can do so here and/or on AO3, if you'd like.

_________________

‘Choly and Angel walked next door to rejoin Sticks in the junk vendor’s stall. He found it peculiar, that trash did not comprise a majority of the dealer’s wares, despite the store’s categorization as a junk vendor. Much of it had been restored or repaired in some capacity, if not marginally more presentable polished or cleaned up some. A distant, crooked smile tugged at him, delighted by his ability to identify the most mundane of ancient things which had not graced his sight in some time. Ceramic figurine egg timer. Cake breaker. Dusting bellows. Pewter powder box. No, perhaps the entire mall could be called a large scale antiques dealer of sorts--with a healthy mix of contemporary crafts for sale as well, of course.

While ‘Choly had taken Liam’s suggestion to try some local fashion choices for something more compatible with the cervical collar, Sticks had decided to test his suggestion this type of merchant might yield their hunt better results. Sticks hadn’t wanted to wait around while ‘Choly clothing shopped, no matter how brief the errand with their appointment at the Gate City Clinic at eleven. When he found him, Sticks had just given up digging in a bin of various sacks.

The ghoul eyed him with pleasant surprise, hands stiff in his pockets.

“Didn’t expect you to be done first. Take it from your good spirits you found stuff you’re happy with.” He squinted at the new garments ‘Choly wore. “...I know you wear it well, but Ant lace? I thought we were pinching caps here.”

‘Choly smiled. First the cervical collar and a genuine direction to procuring the rest, and now brand new clothing. He now wore a collarless mesh chemisette, over his corset but tucked under the edge of the cervical collar, with a ribbon tie in the back and to either side. The corset still peeked out under the cropped hem. Atop this he’d put his cardigan back on. Draped around his neck was the article with which Sticks had exception: a long Irish lace shawl, with its tails drawn into a loose knot in the front. Several hundred dollars lighter for it, his heart felt even lighter still. In his day went the phrase, the clothes make the man, but it persisted even now that new clothes could do wonders.

“Up until now,” he finally replied, “all my clothes have either been prewar salvage or military issue. But now, I own some clothes handmade this year. I need to stop feeling like the relic I am. To stop feeling like I’m still stuck in 2077. I’d imagine it’s well enough time to finally celebrate something.”

“I figured last night was a to-do, but I guess you’ve earned something fancy. Appearances sure matter a lot to you.”

“Have to make up for my personality somehow, don’t I?” He shrugged off his own glib self-deprecation. “Before we get going, did you want to try something new, too? The apparel clerk was incredibly helpful.”

Sticks’s attention fell elsewhere as they walked out of the junk vendor’s stall.

“Mm, no offense, but I prefer the way duds used to be made.”

“That’s fair. The display windows of the boutiques that specialize in prewar fashion have caught my attention every time we pass them. Right now, though, I feel more like trying to blend in a bit. To feel present.”

Something about yesterday’s conversation with Liam had ‘Choly’s mind abuzz with a confusion he nearly welcomed. His interaction with the apparel clerk repeated in his mind. With the utter unisex nature of garments, he couldn’t not ask her, with some trepidation, And how might a man go about wearing this one? And this? She’d let him into the fitting room stall so she could show him, making adjustments once he reemerged with the new clothes on his person. He smiled into himself as he mounted Angel.

“The clerk showed me how Laners wear things. I thought I could tell at a glance that wealth and status were demonstrated with wearing as many individual garments as possible, with wearing as much of a given fabric as possible, with the greatest intricacy to a fabric possible. But it’s more complicated than that? Really, it shocks me that you wouldn’t take a shine to this kind of place. She lamented that my orthotic corset has no detail work, and is made from such an uninteresting fabric. All function, with none of the form, she says. Clothing here is designed to show off the undergarments! Socks included, for example--hence all the golf trousers.” His eyes wilded, focused on nothing, as he reared up on his grip on Angel’s car-door handles. “I can’t imagine literally airing my unmentionables to the whole neighborhood, no matter what I paid for them.”

“...What’s that supposed to mean? Me not taking a shine to Ant.”

“Your... interest in corsets,” fumbled from him.

“Tch! Believe it or not, I don’t blow my top every time I see one.” He twisted taking exception to it into flirtation, and smirked up at ‘Choly. “Depends a lot on who’s wearing it.”

‘Choly crinkled his nose to hide his flustering.

“--Well! Hopefully we’ll find more to outfit me with. I know you didn’t find anything at the one merchant, but there’s dozens of vendors here with junk for sale. Which, speaking of leather scraps... You know, I’ve been noticing lots of leather and fur here, too. I know the Clark sisters dress the Laners’ kills, but I haven’t noticed anyplace that’s been permitted leather tools. It’s been driving my curiosity wild. Everyplace with clothes has had sturdy fur-lined leather overcoats for sale.” He waved a declaration through the air one-handed, before returning to an even grip. “A must-have for any body with business out-doors. Sufficient winterized rad-resistant gear and all that.”

“You really must be feeling better, to be so chatty. God bless that neck thing.” Sticks chuckled, warmed. “By curiosity, I’m assuming you’re asking where they get it all. You’re right, if you think the Furriers had anything to do with it. Well, had. No idea how Ant will react to the Unfolded. They used to caravan up here every so often, with the Riverhawk. They’d trade leather, fur, salvaged prewar fabric bolts, dressed meat. The Laners never much liked them, but the commerce was too good to turn ‘em shy. I traveled with them up here a few times, but even the times I’ve come up here on my own I’ve never really taken a shine to living here.”

“Fuck-me-in-the-mouth, I hope they don’t show up here.”

The last thing any of them needed was a continuation of what had transpired in Lowell. Surely, they hadn’t been followed.

“Gen’s got all their hands too full to bother with trade route upkeep, I imagine.”

“...You don’t suppose my coat lining came from here, do you?”

It took some time to grasp what ‘Choly was on about.

“That Franken-monster of a thing Bones gave you? I guess so, maybe. Both cities had a lot of textiles. There’s no telling where she got it.”

They entered the Gate City Clinic and sat in the mostly empty waiting area. One of the other medics noticed them and approached.

“Do you need help with something?”

“We’re waiting for Liam,” ‘Choly said.

“He’s about to take his lunch soon. You’ll be waiting at least an hour, if you’re intent to see him and not one of the other staff. What brings you in?”

“Just on time.” Sticks winked. “We’re waiting for his lunch hour. We’re here on business. Not doctor stuff.”

The medic shrugged and walked off to a desk to contend with some papers.

Liam walked up shortly after, this time in a velvet-trimmed sheer mesh shirt, and golf pants again. His deep eyes brightened in an otherwise indifferent face.

“You’re awfully stuffed up. You know that right?” His cigarette bobbed limply as he spoke. “But this, it’s an improvement. Really, I don’t get the preoccupation with salvaged prewar clothes. Most of it’s garbage these days. Deteriorating, stained, doesn’t breathe...”

“It only wears out if not properly cared for,” Angel said.

They couldn’t tell if Liam’s silence came more on account of his consideration of the Mister Handy’s comment, or more of their speechlessness that it had sassed a prospective business partner they’d only met the night before.

“Anyway.” Liam lipped at his smoke, then walked away. He wagged his head for them to follow him to the back. “I’m taking lunch now. Allow me to give you a tour of the place.”

The Gate City Clinic, the best ‘Choly could tell, utilized the original shop’s two offices for an office and storage space. He presumed the stock room at one end of the hall made up Liam and Orqueida’s living quarters, though Liam didn’t show them. He took them finally to the kitchen at the opposite end of the hall, once a break room. The makings of a rudimentary chemistry setup occupied a small kitchen hutch.

“Neither of us cooks,” Liam said, “but we also prefer to eat in privacy. Orqueida got us food before she headed to the Inn for the day. Have you eaten?”

“We haven’t!” Sticks eyed the sizable sack on the table. “You shouldn’t have. Thank you.”

“Orqueida insisted. You’re welcome, though.”

‘Choly’s mouth watered at the lingering aroma of hot pickled meat. He swallowed and did his best not to frown.

“...I appreciate it, but no thanks.”

“Oh,” Angel worried, “breakfast must be disagreeing with you already.”

“You’re out of your smoothies.” Sticks gave him an assertive glare. “Eat with us.”

Sooner than argue, ‘Choly took it upon himself to scrutinize the hot plate and various glassware Liam had collected.

Liam smushed his cigarette in the ashtray on the kitchen table, then produced from the oiled canvas sack beside it a series of lidded tins, ranging from bread box to tea tin, but mostly an average of them. Much like the sewing kits of yesteryear, ‘Choly knew better than to think Liam intended to serve them two hundred year old butter cookies.

“I thought the food court didn’t include the dishes,” ‘Choly said.

“They charge you for not having your own. But we can sell back the tins.” Liam shrugged. He opened the tin in his hand then, to demonstrate some shredded juicy pale stuff, only to glance down with a disappointed frown and replace the lid. “Ugh, sauerkraut. ...Breaks even if we clean it before returning it. You have tins, you find tins, you sell them to the food court.”

Sticks helped him remove the lids to reveal shaved corned brahmin, toasted bread slices, sauerkraut, thin fragments of a rindy cheese, a pepper tin of some sort of sauce, and what resembled pickled garlic cloves or mozzarella balls. The not-gold lighting blanched any visual appeal the foods may have had, but the savory piquant aromas more than made up for it. Liam produced utensils from a counter drawer and set them down on a clean dishrag.

“At least she didn’t forget the morsels.” Liam sighed as he popped one of the globules in his mouth, then one more. He held the tin out to the two of them. Sticks took two. ‘Choly picked up a fork to take just the one, almost uncertain they could be stabbed without breaking. “Digestive issues? Really, we should make time to sit and discuss all this. Maybe I could help.”

‘Choly watched the two men cobbling together sandwiches to either side of the table. He stuck the morsel in his mouth. Coated in a tart oil, its flesh had a firm bite but still a tenderness. Chewing on it for some time, it dawned on him these were some sort of mushroom.

“What would help... is more... Stimpaks.” As ‘Choly said it, his voice garbled into a self-conscious hush. “I’ve got everything else.”

Liam sat to dig in, his befuddlement on his sunken brow.

“I don’t figure you’ll be able to get started today. We’re just talking things over. Knowing the equipment you’ve got at your disposal should help draft what to send your ‘acquisition expert’ on errands for.” He unfolded a piece of paper from his shirt pocket one-handed and gave it to Sticks, who was much more nettled by the whole thing than he let on. “I’ve got a few things I’ll pay you for as well. Provided it wasn’t some fancy way of saying you’re a scavver, it should be a cakewalk.”

“The hell do you need so much-- You know what. Don’t worry about it, and I won’t, either.”

“You deal with him, so I don’t have to. I pay very well for it.”

Stress snagged up in ‘Choly’s throat.

“You mentioned last night that you’re looking for first aid basics. You traded a cervical brace for my handful of Addictol and Med-X.” His voice cracked. “What-- about Stimpaks?”

Liam sat up, and set down his hand on the table, still holding his sandwich in it. He scowled at his food instead of his guests.

“Stimpaks aren’t the end all for first aid. I really don’t have much use for them. A medic once had to know how to work without them, in the chance they ran out on the battlefield. I got my training in similar circumstances. I do rarely have them, but as far as I know, making them is a lost prewar science--”

“--But why not use advanced tools, where available?” ‘Choly reeled back the accidental sarcastic shock, clasping his chin. “Do you not see many severe injuries here?”

“We’re a cautious bunch. Most of what I oversee is illness, not injury. While I can handle injuries when they happen, I’m definitely grateful it’s not my job. It means the Lane’s safe.”

‘Choly steadied himself a bit by beginning to craft his own serving.

“What... if I told you that I knew how to make them?”

“I’d tell you not to bother.”

The chemist’s ears rang. He dropped it for now.

Over the next few days, ‘Choly got to work on chems, Sticks went on Liam and ‘Choly’s errands, and Angel assisted Liam in the clinic where he’d permit. He disliked that a majority of his trouble amounted to isolating the alkaloid salts from pounds of dried Hubflower petals, but he reminded himself that he was synthesizing Med-X with it. At least it came easily for him. He even got plucky and decided he’d throw something together with his stash of dried melon blossoms, to test his theory its compounds could steady one’s alertness. For the time being, he stifled the compulsion to up the level of difficulty and complexity, and did not propose anything off Liam’s work order more grandiose than an herbal remedy. They all had to prove their reliability to Liam, and sprawling out his efforts when his lab equipment was one step above kitchenware was the opposite of a sound idea. Besides, the man had requested medicine and nothing more.

One afternoon, Sticks burst into the kitchen. He flung down a mess of something in the tile floor with a semi-muffled clatter, only to dash back out with a huge grin. ‘Choly eyed the pile breathlessly from where he sat at work. Recognizing the same canvas and leather he had around his neck, he did his best to make sure the soaking pale purple-blue petals didn’t over-process.

Sticks stomped back in some time later, dragging along an exhausted Liam.

“These are the legs right?” He had the catalogue open, pointing at it eagerly. “Right???”

“It appears so. But I can’t tell from this jumbled mess, if it’s complete.”

“Then let’s see! ‘Choly! Stop messing with that smelly junk and let us at your legs.”

“You’re lucky the start you gave me didn’t make me break something. I was handling acid. ...I don’t have to remove my pants, do I?”

“I’d rather you didn’t.” Amending the snark, Liam added, “We can see how they fit over the trousers first.”

Sticks chuckled, wringing his hands.

With some effort, Liam pieced together the components, eyeing the catalogue for reference. Each segment was reinforced with metal boning and fastened shut on the outer parts with busks and fan lacing for ease. Sticks had the luck that the waistband which secured each hip hinge had come attached to one of the legs. Otherwise, he probably wouldn’t have known the piece was necessary.

“Aren’t you glad you turned me loose to go hunting on my own?” the ghoul delighted. “It’s funny. I remember fewer merchants being okay with anything less than cold hard cash. I’ve been getting run ragged obtaining the right stuff for the right people. But it’s all a drop in the bucket for you, Mindy.”

“Two pieces in one week. Three, if you count each separate leg. In tact. Yes, of course I’m amazed.“

Having followed Liam and Sticks back in, Angel entered to supervise.

Liam lowered himself into the floor and chewed at his cigarette filter while he worked at getting one of ‘Choly’s legs slipped into the thing. ‘Choly did his best to balance, and let out an anxious laugh when Sticks all to eagerly joined Liam in the floor to mirror the effort with ‘Choly’s other leg.

“Gotta practice,” Sticks insisted with a crooked grin, despite meeting no protest.

The two helped ‘Choly stand, so he could fasten the waistband. Liam gestured where the circular hinges needed to align, and the two steadied the leg pieces at the height needed to achieve this, so that the padded belt could be adjusted accordingly. Once they got him into the device, he took a few testing steps. His heart fluttered. Unsurprisingly, they gave a great deal of protest with each step.

“I brought a tool kit with me,” Sticks offered. “We can adjust how tight the hinges are, to stop all that squeaking and creaking. I’m sure I can find some oil, too.”

“Forget how they sound.” Liam put out his cigarette. “Do they help?”

‘Choly kept testing them out, pacing slowly and deliberately from one end of the kitchen to the other. He couldn’t help but snivel and smile with awe.

“I feel like a toy soldier... but that isn’t necessarily a negative. My hips are lined up to where I don’t have to think so hard about the steps I take. I do think they could stand a little tightening up, but the alignment’s still good despite being as old and beat up as I am.”

“The oldest thing in this room is probably the ghoul--” Liam elbowed Sticks beside him, “--but the braces come in a close second.”

‘Choly turned, deadpan.

“I’m older than he is.”

“By seven years or so, if memory serves,” Angel said. “Twenty-eighth of November, 2034.”

Liam’s humor didn’t falter, though he stood with a vague discerning squint. ‘Choly ambled over to the table to sit with a grunt.

“If I can bum a smoke and sit back down, I’ll explain why I might be one of your weirder patients.”

He himself sat backward in the metal diner chair wordlessly. He produced his pack of Clipper Ships from his rolled sleeve, tapped out two cigarettes to place in his lips, and lit them. And he offered one across the kitchen table between genteel thumb and forefinger, his eyes bright with eager skepticism.

____________

Fun facts: Russian dressing (often substituted with Thousand Island) is credited to have been created in Nashua, NH, by one James E. Colburn.

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#fallout #fallout 4 #fallout fanfic #fallout 4 fanfic #sole survivor #the anatomy of melancholy #melancholy #sticks #angel #liam bledsoe #trans sole survivor #transmasc sole survivor #disabled sole survivor #let's have fun in new hampshire

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queen-scribbles · 4 years ago

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Lisa Shepard vs Batarians

Behold, a meta about Lisa I’ve long wanted to write, inspired by this post about Torfan(got kinda long for just a reblog) and motivation provided by @fourthage‘s Mass Effect giveaway. (I’m much better about finishing things when I can give it a deadline, lol)

----

Lisa is my Colonist/Ruthless Infiltrator Shep, and let me tell you, that background combo made her really interesting to play(through the first two games, at least; my computer crashed before I had a chance to import her to ME3, rip) bc she has this big, glaring problem with batarians. The tl;dr is Mindoir was deeply traumatizing and no batarian ever did enough to counter the extremely negative image she has of their race as a result. (apologies for slight stream-of-consciousness rambling, I tried to rein it in, but I think I was only partially successful >.>)

So we start, obviously, on Mindoir. Lisa’s the oldest of four with three younger brothers; Justin, Finn, and Connor, and had two best friends; Javier and Laura. Life was routine and uneventful and the only thing she cared about the larger galaxy was getting to explore it with Javi and Laura after they all graduated.

And then the batarian raid happened. Lisa didn’t see her parents die, but she did see friends die in the initial attack, as well as Laura’s dad. She had to watch Finn and his best friend(Talitha) get dragged to a shuttle. She, Javi, and Laura hid in a storage shed with their remaining younger siblings(one of Laura’s sisters was gone, too) in hopes of keeping them safe. They spent the next three days in there. They were found by a few batarian patrols, somehow managed to kill them all with bare hands and makeshift weapons(or stolen, Lisa got a pistol off one she killed), even as their own numbers got picked down, younger sibling by younger sibling, and then Laura, and then Javi, until.Lisa was the last one left, memory etched with hearing her best friends and younger brothers, brothers she’d promised her parents she’d look out for, die very terrible deaths.

She was found by a couple soldiers from the rescuing Alliance patrol, and actually attacked them when they first came in the storage shed. They had to calm her down, and one went so far as to pull off his helmet so she could see they were human and weren’t going to hurt her. He introduced himself as Gabe and guided her out of her personal hell, both literally and figuratively. After everything she’d witnessed and heard and knew had happened to the colony, to her home, at the hands of the batarians, Lisa didn’t feel the least bit guilty for being glad the Alliance killed every last one of the slaving bastard scum they found. She’d lost everyone in the world she cared about to those monsters, she had every right to be glad they paid for it.

The soldier, Gabe, stuck with her until she’d made it back to Earth and escorted her to the foster home that had agreed to take her in. checked up on her a few times, offered to let her live with him and his roommates(another man and a woman, all three of them soldiers) if she wanted to. She took him up on that, and by the end of the third or fourth month, he was big brother and best friend rolled into one. Being on Earth meant she didn’t really have much(if any) direct interaction with batarians, but she was still working through her trauma and every time she heard them mentioned in news reports it was batarian pirates attacking a civilian vessel or batarian slavers raiding another colony--human, turian, whatever, all it did was reinforce her hostile view of them as a race.

She joined the Alliance military when she turned eighteen, feeling it was the best way to act out her gratitude of them saving her. She still missed her family and friends, of course, but she was healing and adjusting and while batarians still get her hackles up, she wouldn’t go out of her way to cause trouble with them. Largely because that would reflect badly on the Alliance, and she doesn’t want that. She proves to be an excellent soldier, tech genius, and near-unparalleled sniper, which is what gets her the rec for N-school(courtesy of Captain Anderson, who was Gabe’s CO. Gabe introduced them the day she enlisted). She excels in N-school(she’s always been the sort to thrive on challenge) and is clearly going to graduate with flying colors, so she and Gabe work it out--he’s coming for the ceremony, they each manage to get leave for the following week, they’re gonna spend time catching up and celebrating and just get to see each other face to face for the first time in... over a year.

And then, the week before graduation, Gabe is killed rescuing a diplomat’s kid from, you guessed it, batarian pirates(he’s one of only three KIA on that mission, which doesn’t make it sting any less)..That is when they cross the point of no return in her eyes. Two separate groups of batarians are responsible for the deaths of her family twice over. Clearly this was not a “few bad individuals” thing; this is a failing of them as a people(A people who have enslaving others enshrined as part of their culture to the point of calling it discrimination when they’re not allowed to practice it).

She is a driven, pragmatic, determined individual who wants to represent humanity and the Alliance well and so works just fine alongside every other race in Council space. She’s always willing to help, also always willing to make the hard calls to get a job done bc she learned early that people die. You can’t save everyone every time. You still try your damnedest to do it, but sometimes you can’t. And sometimes people die as a result of your decisions and you have to be able to live with that. She can.

And then TORFAN. Well, first Elysium, and then Torfan. By this point, she’s N4, risen to Commander, and absolutely willing to push her squad however hard it takes to accomplish their goal. (In any circumstances, these just happen to hit a tad closer to home than usual) The fight through Torfan’s tunnels to the pirate base is brutal, and there are several times her men point out maybe they should turn back. But she pushes on bc their mission is to take out this group of pirates. In her mind, batarians are already a threat, given their culture of slaving, piracy, and utter disregard for life and others in general. If they get away with attempting a full-scale attack like they did on a world like Elysium, they’ll be exponentially more dangerous. So there have to be repercussions and they have to be swift and they have to be brutal and unflinching and if she’s the one who doles that out so be it.

It costs her 3/4 of her squad, but they do it. They fight the pirates to the point of surrender and then Lisa shoots them anyway. Her mission was to eliminate the enemy, and she’s A) worried the batarians are surrendering as a show, with no intention of actually being prisoners, and B) convinced even if they did surrender, the Hedgemony would demand their return as “political prisoners” or something, with good odds they’d be released after just enough time this “incident” will have faded from people’s memory, and she doesn’t want to risk either. So the dozen-odd surrendering batarians still.die. And while she didn’t take pleasure or satisfaction in doing it, she doesn’t regret it either. Her thought process is somewhere along the lines of “These are sadistic, murdering, slaving scumbags, who have the audacity to ask for the mercy they would never in a million years show their victims. The galaxy is better off without them.”) She doesn’t care it gets her labelled “The Butcher of Torfan” and that people look askance at her when they know her record. She got the job done, the galaxy is just that much safer, and she’s not going to lose any sleep over batarians.

She makes N7 and gets the Spectre nomination bc she pushes herself just as hard as anyone under her command, always gets the job done, and--aside from batarians--has no issue working with other races. When it comes to anyone else; turians, asari, hanar, whoever, she’s all too happy to follow Kaidan’s “jerks and saint, just like us” philosophy and judge them on an individual basis, but--and I’ve actually had her say this in fic--”If you ever find a saintly batarian, let me know and I’ll pin a medal on their chest my-damn-self”. Between what’s known of batarians as a race and culture and her own first or second hand experience, there is nothing redeeming about them in her eyes. (And it’s a very good thing she didn’t run into any during that... week after the Talitha encounter in ME1, bc she probably would have ripped them to shreds with just her bare hands and her omnitool after hearing what that poor girl went through.) She’s not going to go out of her way to gleefully/vindictively slaughter them, but she’s not feeling too charitable or sympathetic toward them, either. If I may make a cross-franchise reference, Lisa’s feeling on batarians are very similar to how Fenris feels about mages in DA2, only unlike him, she hasn’t gotten any examples they’re not all Like That(TM).

As of the end of ME2, she has not seen any evidence to counter her view of batarians, so it’s a view she’s gonna go into ME3 holding(whenever I get around to completely redoing her game), and I don’t see her changing it much at this point. It’s a flaw, and it’s one that’s going to persist probably her entire life, but it made playing her so much fun. (especially since my two previous Shepards were 98% Paragon ANGELS who are best described as bleeding hearts. xD)

#lisa shepard #mass effect meta #hooo boy that got long #torfan #mindoir #tried to stay vague about what she saw on mindoir but if it's still bad enough i should tag let me know #mindoir was BAAAAD

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hongnanglen-arina · 4 years ago

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See You On Monday | SVT Interactive AU

05: Failure?

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Masterlist | Previous | Next

Warnings: a little angsty Words: 1.903 A/N: Hey there! Here’s the fifth chapter of my little experiment is here. Sorry, I thought it was posted yesterday but something went wrong I guess. Anyways, at the end of each chapter you have to decide for the next move (please show me your decision as a comment, a reblog or send an ask) Each week you have 3 days for making a decision until the next chapter comes out on Sunday. I hope you will like it ♡

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You curse under your breath but decide to speak up yourself and not tell them through Hoshi.

“D-don’t take the black pills! Only the white ones!”

“What?” Hoshi was helping Jun when he hears your voice. Loud and clear. He looks to your direction with confusion written all over his face when he notices it too. The pills from his box have a different color that yours. You don’t care if the others hear you or not. At least you are sure that one of them can so you don’t waste a minute and rush to the other side to collect all black pills before anyone can take them. You have no idea if this was really the right choice but something in you told you so. You have the feeling that you are doing the right thing.

As you rush to Wonwoo who has a black pill in his hand, his eyes are focused on yours as if he can see you. Although his eyes are half closed because of the poison, he raise his hand a little for you to take if out of his hand. Seeing them in pain caused your heart to ache. For a second, you stay beside him and doubt your decision. In your head it wasn’t a game anymore. As much as you tried to remember yourself that it’s just a game your friend had recommend to you, you slowly but steadily fell deeper into the story.

Hoshi’s voice pulls you back into reality so you quickly get up and help him hand out the white pills and assist them as much as possible, as someone no one can see.

After everyone who got poisoned swallowed a white pill, you watch them for a while before walking away and taking a seat a couple of tables away from them. Absentmindedly, you knead your thighs as your mind goes wild. Why two colors? This must be another test. But it’s a 50% possibility that you could be wrong. There was no hint that told you which one was the right one against the poison or maybe both are?

You panic slightly. What if it were the wrong pills? Or worse, both colors were wrong?? No that couldn’t be. There has to be a right choice. Or was it to just wait for it to be over? No. He said they would help. That narrator told you that they would help. He wasn’t lying, or-

“What are you thinking about?”

Your head snaps up to see Hoshi beside you, also sitting on a chair. After knowing who it was, you can’t help but to lower your gaze again. “I’m just worried i guess.”

The boy beside you makes an agreeing noise, gaze fixated at his friends as he folds his hands in his lap. Neither of you says a word. The room was quiet besides some soft voices, talking to the boys on the floor, saying reassuring words.

“I’m glad we have you here, helping us.” Hoshi tells you after a while. You look at him but he doesn’t meet your eyes. He doesn’t move at all. You notice how he bites on his lower lip, slightly chewing on it. He is nervous just as you are.

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“Have you heard that voice, Jeonghan?” Jeonghan nods at Seungcheol. “Yeah. Loud and clear as if she was right beside me when I was helping Vernon.” Seungcheol sighs and pats Seokmin’s shoulder who is sitting next to him, leaning against the wall. Now all 7 poisoned boys are sitting beside each other in one row, all against the wall. This way it is easier for the others to assist them in for example giving them water.

“Your nose isn’t bleeding anymore. The pill seems to work, ” Woozi says to Mingyu who is half smiling with closed eyes. “I feel a bit better though.”

Joshua’s head is resting on Jun’s shoulder as Seungcheol fans air at him. Previously he told him that he was feeling hot. Maybe because of the pain and the sweat. “I can’t believe i got poisoned. That’s a newbie mistake.”

“Thought you were clever,” Wonwoo jokes and suddenly Joshua has enough energy to look up to glare at him. “I’m sorry to correct you but I am.”

“Whatever guys.”

Jeonghan grins and shrugs. “Guess y’all have to listen to the maknae.”

“Wow, what a time to be alive.”

“Shush Seokmin.” Vernon smiles tired.

“Well, seems like y’all are fine again if y’all are able to talk like that.” Jeonghan snorts and helps Wonwoo with the water.

While the others feel better slowly, two of them inspect the reason of the chaos. Seungkwan and Minghao stand beside the long table and he holds a small plate with traditional sweets. Everything looks normal. Seungkwan wonders if the poison was sprinkled onto the food. With a fork, he pokes the fried chicken.

“They could have used it to make the food or use the poison as a ‘special finish’,” Minghao states, now holding the bowl with Japchae. Seungkwan nods and looks at the others with a sigh. That’s when he notices Hoshi sitting in the back, seemingly talking to himself.

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“Can I ask you something?”

Hoshi’s sudden voice makes you jump a little since it was rather quiet between the two of you. “Uhm, sure.”

“How did you know that the write pills were right and will help?”

“Uhh..” you have no answer to that. Fidgeting with the hem of your shirt, you look at the boys, avoiding Hoshi’s eyes on you. There is no denying the fact that it was just a feeling. That you weren’t 100% sure. “I… felt like it has to be. I’m sorry. It could have ended up very badly but you still listened to me.” The blonde boy beside you doesn’t react so you turn your head to him, catching him shake his head. “It’s okay. Everything’s fine. We shouldn’t think about what could have happened when they feel okay again. It worked and that’s all that matters.” You feel a little better hearing those words from him. Your intention was to help and nothing else.

“Thanks.”

Hoshi is about to say something when you see Seungcheol helps Wonwoo to walk over to where you are sitting with Hoshi. Wonwoo wipes off the sweat from his forehead with a white scarf while the other arm is wrapped around Seungcheol’s neck.

When they are nearly right in front of you, you get up and want to step aside when you hear Wonwoo’s voice that makes you stop in your tracks. “Where are you going?”

Swallowing, you look into his cat-like eyes. Seungcheol has a confused expression on his face. “What do you mean? Hoshi’s sitting there and not moving at all.”

“I don’t mean him. I mean her.”

Your eyes widen and that’s when you realize that Hoshi joined you earlier as well. Without seeing you? Automatically, you turn to Hoshi, pointing your finger at him. “D-do you…. also?” You blink at him for silently explaining what you are talking about.

He understands right away. “Yeah.”

“Since when!?”

“When you helped with the black pills.”

“And you??” You point at Wonwoo.

“Earlier. When it became dark in the room. But just for a second. And then.. again when you helped us.”

“W-wait. You are seeing the ghost!?” Finally Seungcheol joins your conversation, eyes wide when the realization slowly sink in.

Your mouth is slightly open. Why are you scared all of a sudden. Furrowing your eyebrows, you try to find words to form a sentence. To explain the situation.

Suddenly it was dark.

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When you open your eyes, you are lying on the cold floor. Groaning, you push yourself up with your hands so that you are sitting. Looking around, you can’t see anything but it seems empty. Where are the others? Why are you alone?

A faint sound finds its way to your ears. A whimper?

Your body feels heavy but you manage to get up. Where are you and what is that sound? Stumbling a few steps forward, the sound gets louder. It is a whimper.

“Who’s that?” You ask into the empty room. It seems as if it comes from the next room.

“It’s going to be alright. Don’t worry. It’s… going to be alright.”

“R-really?”

Someone was crying. Continuing to walk towards the voices, your breathing quickens. What the hell is happening? Why are you trapped in a dark room all by yourself. Why is someone crying and the strange feeling that it is someone you’ve been with just a moment ago makes you feel bad. You feel hot and cold at the same time when you hear voices again.

“Why don’t you say something? Open your eyes!”

Tears are filling up your eyes. They are indeed familiar voices. “Hey! What is happening!? Are you alright???” Your shouting voice fills the room and the echo hits you. You feel small and helpless. Without noticing, tears start to roll down your cheeks.

Out of nowhere a deep voice appears and startles you, causing your breathing to hitch.

“Seems like you care a lot for them. You forgot what I told you, mh?”

With your palms, you wipe the tears off your face and ball your fists, ready to fight whoever and wherever that narrator is. “Your mission was to just make it out alive. With no bond.” He pauses and your shoulders drop. You are alive. But are the others? And what about the bond? You didn’t bond with them, do you? You still know that it is all just a game and not real- “And you failed.” “I didn’t fail!” You are quick with your reaction. Your courage to contradict surprising you as well. You feel offended all of a sudden. You did everything you could and the boys even felt better with the pills. You didn’t fail.

“What about your tears?” Your breath hitches again. “You care for them.”

“B-but-“

“Controlling emotions isn’t an easy task, I’ll give you that. Actually I’m a little sad. I wanted to watch you a little longer. Too bad.”

You stand there, staring into the darkness while the crying in the background becomes more and more less audible.

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“God, my head..” You cough and whine before opening your eyes. You feel something over your eyes. The VR glasses! Are you back in your living room? Hesitantly, you grab it and pull it off your head, rubbing your eyes and adjust to the light. It is dark in your room. The only light comes from the tv which shows you the cover of the game. Seeing it makes your heart ache.

“They look so happy… I wonder how they are… wait. Don’t be stupid. They are just characters in a game!” You never fell for a game like that and catching yourself to actually think it’s real makes you even more embarrassed. You turn around and want to go away but something makes you stop in your tracks. Turning to the tv again, you look at the cover. Your eyes roam over the picture of the 13 boys.

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What are you going to do?

Start the game again OR let it be?

You can decide.

#seventeen scenarios #seventeen fanfic #Seventeen #seventeen au #au:see you on monday #kpop fanfic #kpop au #carat #svt #seventeen ff

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saiyanprincessswanie · 5 years ago

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Civil War - Brooklyn

Chapter 7 Selling To The Enemy

Previous Chapter

Pairings: Steve Rogers/Reader/James “Bucky” Barnes, Reader/Brock Rumlow

Word Count: 5,450

Warnings: Violence against women, brief mention of rape at end, Swearing, Angst, Almost Smut

Summary: An argument takes place as Steve and Bucky don’t like what the reader has planned. Reader and Brock celebrate a partnership.The cost of doing business with Hydra is a steep one. Warning: brief mention of rape at the very end of the chapter. Nothing graphic. Violence against reader as well.

Thank you to @petrichor-ish for being my beta reader on this chapter

Reblogs & Comments on Tumblr are welcomed and encouraged. 😊💜

I do NOT give my consent to have my work translated or reposted on any social media platform, apps or third party sites. If you see my work anywhere other than MY Tumblr or AO3 then it was stolen. I will NEVER give written or verbal permission as this is MY work. 🚫🚫

You pulled into the driveway of the house that was once your parents, but now it is Steve and Bucky’s home. It was strange to you that they bought your childhood home and were living in it. How Brock never knew they were here was a mystery to you. You shake that thought out of your head.

There was an SUV parked in front of the garage and you pulled next to it. You noticed that the other SUV that the guys drove was gone. Did you beat them back? Getting out of the Chevelle you made your way to the back door. Natasha was at the door grinning at you. She opened it and held the door open, “How was Tony’s?”

“It was good. I worked things out with him and got what I needed. Where are the guys?” You walked through the door making your way into the kitchen.

“Bucky and Steve had to step out for a little bit. They had some business to attend to. You probably didn’t see Clint when you drove into the driveway but he is out there keeping an eye on things. We call him Hawkeye as he is always out there as a lookout and keeping watch over everything.” Nat smirked at you as you raised an eyebrow at her.

You had to admit you didn’t see him at all when you pulled in. You thought you were observant of your surroundings but he must be good at hiding. “Hawkeye? Ha, what an odd codename. Does everyone have one around here?” You couldn’t help but chuckle at it.

Natasha crosses her arms and leans against the counter, “As a matter of fact we do. The Avengers have many allies who go by a codename. I go by Black Widow and you already know Steve and Bucky’s I’m assuming, from your time at the FBI.”

Grabbing a seat at the bar area you grin, “The Avengers, what a weird name. Who are you avenging exactly? Are there more of you?”

She nods at you, “In a way, yes, we are. We are fighting for a bigger cause. There are more of us in different territories. Like take Queens for example we have an up and comer called...”

“That’s enough Natasha. You know better than to open your mouth about our business.” Both you and Nat turned towards the door and see Steve in the doorway. How in the hell did you both not hear a thing? Nat pushes off from the counter and walks past Steve out the back door. Steve is just glaring at her.

“You know you didn’t have to yell at her. I have the right to know a little bit about your crew.” You mumble out looking at him.

Steve walks the short distance to you at the bar, “I will tell you in due time. Just know that I have a good crew, one that you would be proud of.” Steve wraps his arms around you and kisses the top of your head.

“I hope you won’t keep this from me for long. It’s starting to get annoying being left out in the dark.” You hug him back resting your head on his chest. Steve and his secrets were really getting to you. But you told yourself to leave this alone for now as you need to grab your stuff to head to Tony’s townhouse. As you pull back from Steve, Bucky walks in the back door smiling at you.

“Hey doll, Nat said you worked things out with Tony?” Bucky walks to you and leans down to kiss you. It was short and sweet.

“Yeah, we worked everything out. It wasn’t as bad as I thought it was going to be.”

“What I want to know is, how did that little meeting with Brock go?” Steve quirks an eyebrow at you and Bucky takes a seat next to you at the bar. Oh boy, this is going to be fun.

Clearing your throat, “About that, it went fine. I think he doesn’t trust me so he is testing me. The whole reason why I had to go to Tony’s in the first place is because Brock wants guns. He gave me a list that I need to produce tonight when we meet up for dinner.”

“Are you out of your goddamn mind y/n? Do you know how hard we have worked to keep guns out of his hands and you are just going to give it to him? No, out of the question,” Steve shouted at you.

“Doll I have to agree with Steve on this one. We worked hard to make sure he doesn’t have the supplies he needs. Why would you even agree to that? On top of that you are going to dinner with him. I thought you hated the man?” Bucky was looking at you confused.

Taking a deep breath you tried again, “Look guys, I know how it may look and trust me I don’t want to hand over guns to Hydra but you should have known there were going to be deals made. I have to earn his trust and right now this is the only way. Remember I am doing my job. No matter how much I hate him fawning over me and touching me…”

“What the Hell do you mean touching you?” Steve shouted at you.

You looked at Steve who was clearly pissed off. You were afraid to finish your sentence. How stupid of you to let that slip out.

“Doll, you better answer the question. Did he touch you?” Bucky gritted out through his teeth.

“Yeah Rumlow kissed me, okay! But it’s not like I enjoyed it. I will do what I have to make him think I can be trusted. If that means him touching me then so be it.” You get up from the bar to make your way to the master bedroom.

“We are not finished here y/n.” Steve starts following you and you turn around to face him.

“Yes we are, look Tony is letting me use his townhouse while I am undercover. I can’t be seen with either of you since Hydra has you as a target. I’m going to dinner tonight with Brock and he is going to get his weapons.” You are going to get everything finally off your chest before you leave.

Steve is watching you as you get in his space and you can see his jaw clench. Bucky gets up and starts approaching you both. Steve stops him before he can reach you. They both look like they want to lock you in the bedroom against your will.

Looking at them both you continue, “You may not like what I have to do but it is not your decision to make. The sooner I can infiltrate Hydra the quicker I can arrest him and be done with this case. So I’m going in that room grabbing my shit and leaving. If you get in my way of trying to take him down then we will have issues.”

Steve is angry, “Fine, leave.” Steve turns around and storms out the back door. Leaving you to face Bucky.

You turn around to head back towards the bedroom when Bucky yells your name, “Just so you know doll, you won’t be making that gun sale with him. I can guarantee that.” You listen as Bucky leaves slamming the backdoor close.

Tears start falling down your cheeks as you make your way to the bedroom. This wasn’t supposed to go this way. Ever since you all reunited it seems like you did nothing but fight. You just weren’t on the same page as one another. Things have changed so much throughout the years. Walking to where your bag was you picked it up and left the room. If they want to be mad at you then so be it. You are going to take down your father’s murderer by any means necessary.

You pulled up to the townhouse that Tony told you about. It was exactly how you remembered it from years ago. Getting out of the car you grabbed your bag and walked to the front door. Tony had given you a key to get in and so you took it out of your pocket to unlock the door.

Once unlocked you walked into the small foyer and closed the door. You couldn’t believe how nice it looked inside. Tony definitely spent time on renovations to it. The first floor consisted of a huge living room, dining room, kitchen and half bathroom. There was a stairwell that leads to the bedrooms that you took so you could see the rest of the place.

Upstairs you were immediately standing in the loft area. The master bedroom was to your left and you walked in there to set your bag down. The room was huge and gorgeous with its grey/blue wall. You threw your bag down on the bench at the end of the bed. Tony spared no expense when making this homey. Turning around you see the dress you picked out hanging from the closet door.

Pepper must have gotten it prepared and sent over for you for tonight. It was a beautiful short black dress with a plunging neckline to show off your chest. You would normally never think to wear something like this for your enemy but you needed to win Brock over tonight.

You kept thinking about what happened with you and the guys. Steve was so angry at you and told you to leave without a goodbye. Then Bucky telling you your deal would not go down tonight. You shake your head at the thought of being on opposite sides of them. You didn’t like this anymore than them but again sacrifices must be made for the greater good.

Pulling your phone out of your pocket you decided to quickly text Director Richards to let him know what you were doing tonight. You weren’t sure how smoothly it would go but he needed the update.

After you finished typing to him you texted Brock the address you were at so he could have a car pick you up. Taking a deep breath you grabbed your backpack and walked into the walk-in closet. You kneeled at the safe in the far corner of the closet. Tony had given you the access code to get in to store all your important documents, extra gun and money. You turned it upside down, emptying it out. You had $100,000 in cash that you knew you would be using soon to invest in what you needed with Brock. You grabbed the cash and started stacking it in the safe. After it was in there you grabbed the fake ids and passport and threw them in there. You grabbed a thousand in cash, the gun and closed the safe locking it.

You walked back into the bedroom and went to the side table next to the bed. You opened the drawer and placed the second gun inside. You could never be too careful. You pulled out your other gun from the waist and placed it on top of the table. Your phone chimes from your pocket and you pull it out.

Brock: I will have a car pick you up in a couple hours. Do you have my product?

You: Who do you take me for? Of course I have your product. We might have an issue with the drop so I need you to come here to get it. Product will be ready tonight.

Brock: Problem? From who?

You: Inside sources that I can’t reveal tell me if I bring them to you we will be ambushed. Trust me, okay?

Brock: You have to earn it first sweetheart. If this goes smoothly we will talk about later. I will see you in a little while. Hope you are dressed nice for me.

You: You know I will be.

You sighed and texted Tony.

You: Please tell me my product is good to go tonight?

Tony: I will have it ready in the next hour. Where am I dropping it?

You: It will have to be the townhouse. Guys have threatened to blow my operation by not letting these guns go to Hydra. What better way than to have Brock come to me and get them. Maybe you can get the word out that I am meeting him for a sale near the pier? Help a sister out?

Tony: Just so you know I don’t like this but I will for you. Product will be at your place within the hour.

You: Thanks Tony.

You threw your phone on the side table near your gun. You had a couple hours to kill so you decided to go get something to snack on before you took a shower and get ready for tonight.

You had just finished your hair and makeup when stepped out of the bathroom in just a small pair of black lingerie panties that barely covered you. You grabbed the dress off the hook from the closet door and unzipped it. There was no way you could wear a bra with this but the dress would hold you perfectly. Stepping into it you pulled it on and proceeded to try and zipper it. You got halfway up when you heard your name being called out by Tony.

“I’m up here Tony; I could really use your help.”

You heard him make his way up the stairs and into the master bedroom where you were. “I see you need help with a zipper. Normally I unzip dresses not the other way around. Ooof!” You elbowed him in the stomach. Once he zipped the dress up he looked at you as you turned around. “Sweet baby Jesus, you are wearing that out with Brock? You know he won’t keep his hands to himself.”

You smirked at him, “Well that is the point in all this. Did you bring the guns?”

Tony shook his head at you, “Yeah it’s in the garage and offloaded. Just promise me you will play it safe tonight. I won’t be there when this goes down and I don’t want you hurt.” He put his hands on your shoulders and lightly squeezed.

“Tony, I will be as safe as I can. It’s just dinner and a pick up. I’ve done this a thousand times. As long as the guys don’t screw this up, I will be okay.” You walk by him and grab a couple of necklaces off the dresser to complete the look. You fluffed your hair and smiled at him, “How do I look?”

Tony smiled at you, “Like a million bucks. You’re beautiful as always.” You walked up to him and gave him a quick peck on the cheek. “I’m going to get out of here so you can finish up. Pepper said she left a small clutch to go with the dress in the closet. It should be just the right size to put your gun in.”

“Thank you Tony. Just do what you need to with the guys. I won’t have my phone on me so I will contact you later. Brock will be here soon, so you should go.”

Tony nods and walks out of the room. You went over to the walk in closet to grab the clutch and high heels, you would be wearing. Opening the clutch you walked to where your gun was and plopped it in, perfect fit. You had room to throw your money in and left your phone on the table. Making your way down the stairs you walked to a chair in the living room to put your heels on. The doorbell rings and you get up to get the door. Opening it Brock stood there with a big grin on his face as he took in your appearance.

“Wow sweetheart you are absolutely gorgeous. I’m tempted to keep you in tonight.” He walks in and wraps his arms around you. He kisses your cheek and you flash him a smile.

“Can’t stay in when we have dinner planned. You told me you would bring me to my favorite place.” You place a hand on his chest.

“I did tell you that but first I would like to take a look at my order if you don’t mind. I would like to get this collected right away so we can enjoy the rest of our night together.”

You nod at him, “Sure follow me.” There was a side door in the foyer that leads to the garage. Opening the door, you turned on the lights and walked a couple steps down into the garage opening. “As you see your order is here. Everything is accounted for.” You watched as Brock went over to the crates that were left behind from Tony. He goes over to each one inspecting it.

“I’m going to be honest I didn’t think you could pull it off y/n. But you were always filled with surprises.” He turns and smiles at you.

“Have your men back up their truck to the garage doors. We don’t want people seeing what we are doing.”

He takes his phone out and calls someone telling them what to do. He hangs up as you hit the button to open the garage door. Brock walks over to you as watch the truck back up and people jump out to start loading the weapons. He puts his arm around your waist, “I have a feeling this is going to be the beginning of a beautiful partnership.”

You tilt your head to look up at him, “That will be.” It took 10 minutes to load everything into the truck. Once they were done they closed the back of the truck up and pulled out of the garage. You closed the garage door and you both made your way back to the foyer. You grabbed your clutch and keys to the townhouse. Brock walked outside and waited on the steps as you locked up. You turn to him and he takes your arm in his. Walking down the steps you glance ahead to see a black limo waiting at the curb. You were absolutely stunned to see it.

Brock laughs, “Surprised princess? I wanted to make sure you were getting the full treatment tonight. I want you to know how grateful I am for you getting me what I needed.” As you both reach the limo the driver opens the door for you. Climbing into the limo Brock is right behind you and he sits close to you. The door closes and he runs his hand up your leg. “Maybe after dinner I could persuade you into some dessert?”

You grab his hand to stop him, “Let’s get through dinner first.” He laughs at you and pulls away. How far would you be willing to let Brock get to win him over? Could you really sleep with him after everything he has done? You hoped to god that it didn’t have to come to that. You shook the thought from your head. There was no way that was ever going to happen.

The driver pulls away from the curb and makes it way to where Brock is taking you for dinner. “Your supplier got what I needed quickly. Do you think you will be able to set something like that up again in the future?” Brock gazes at you.

Smirking at him, “Of course I can though next time it will cost you more than dinner.” You watch as he quirks as eyebrow at you as you send the wrong message to him so you quickly correct yourself. “I mean cash Brock.”

His hand is back on your thigh, “Whatever you say princess.” He lightly squeezes your leg but thankfully he leaves it there.

Thankfully the drive was only ten minutes and Brock hadn’t tried anything else with you. The limo pulled up to the restaurant and you couldn’t help but smile. This restaurant was a family business and you used to come here all the time. They made the best Italian dishes you have ever had. The door on Brocks side opens up and he slides out and holds a hand out for you. Taking his hand you get out and he wraps an arm around your waist guiding you to the front door.

Someone comes out from the restaurant and opens the door for you both allowing you to walk in. As soon as you walk in you are greeted by a well dressed man. He was in his thirties and as tall as Brock.

“Ah, Mr Rumlow it is a pleasure to see you again. I was informed by Dominic that you would be entertaining a guest tonight. The restaurant is closed per your request. I have your booth available for you. If you would follow me.” He turned on his heels and you both follow him to the back corner of the restaurant.

You get to the booth and notice it is a cozy half circle booth. Brock is going to make sure you are close together tonight. You slide in and sure enough he slides in to your right. His left hand goes right on your thigh.

A waiter comes over to greet you both. Brock asks for a bottle of their best Merlot and the waiter scampers away to fetch it.

“Sweetheart you seem tense tonight. You need to loosen up a little. We have much to celebrate tonight.” He puts his left arm on the back of the booth behind you. You see the waiter came back with the wine. You are going to need all the wine you can drink so you can get through this dinner with him. He pours out two glasses and gives you time to look everything over.

You grab your glass of wine and lift it to toast with Brocks, “To a successful partnership.”

“To a successful partnership sweetheart.” You clink your glasses together and drink.

The waiter came back after a few minutes and you each placed your order. Brock sent the waiter off again and leaned in to whisper in your ear, “Sweetheart, this dress is stunning on you. Are you wearing anything underneath it or do I get to find out on my own? His right hand travels up your thigh and you stop him again.

“Brock, what if someone comes up to us and sees what you are doing?” You try to play off your nervousness.

“There's a reason why we have the restaurant to ourselves kitten. You have been a tease to me. Here feel for yourself.” He grabs your hand and places it over his crotch. Sure enough you could feel his bulge. “See what you do to me. This is all because of you. No one is going to pay attention to us here. Just relax, its not like I’m going to fuck you on the table.”

You look around and notice no one is paying attention to you both in the corner. You decided to get him to stop fondling you that you would be forward to see what he does. You move his hand and turn towards him. You had just enough room to climb into his lap and straddle him.

Leaning close to his ear, “Is this what you want?”

Your dress hikes up your thighs and you grind down on his bulge causing him to groan. You place your hands on either side of his face and you kiss him. At first it was slow to test the waters out but Brock takes control of the kiss and you are making out. You feel one of his hands travel up your thigh and start towards your panties. He runs his fingers on the outside of your underwear and over your mound. You couldn’t help but release a moan into his mouth.

He lightly pulls you away from his mouth and looks into your eyes, “If you keep this up I very well may take you on the table.” You give him a grin and climb off him. As soon as you are next to him again your waiter brings your food out.

Your heart is racing a mile a minute. You hated what you did but deep down inside you know you got a little turned on from that. Thankfully you and Brock eat in peace with minimal contact.

The plates were cleared from the table and you both had finished two bottles of wine. You were definitely feeling a little drunk. You didn’t mean for it to happen but the wine was helping you get through dinner. Brock had helped you out of the booth and he wrapped his arm around your waist walking you outside and to the limo.

You were staggering in his arms. You felt all warm and fuzzy inside. The driver opened the limo door and you almost fell face first inside. Brock climbed inside and as soon as the door closes he is on you. He pulls you into his lap as the limo makes it way to your place. You are both tongue and teeth as you make out. It is sloopy but you don’t care. It’s like you couldn’t control yourself and what you were doing.

The drive seemed to go by quick and Brock pulls back from your mouth to look at you. “Shall we take this inside?” You just nod your head not even thinking of what and who you were lusting after.

He all but pulls you out of the limo and carries you to your front door. You open your clutch grabbing the keys and unlocking the door. As soon as you are in Brock grabs you and spins you around pushing you into the front door. He dives in and starts kissing you along your neck. “Where's the bedroom?”

You whine a little as he finds a spot on your neck you like, “Upstairs to the left.”

Brock hikes your dress up your thighs and grabs you under your ass, lifting you up. You wrap your legs around his waist and he carries you like that up the stairs. You know you shouldn’t be doing this but this was the only way to win his trust, right? Plus Steve and Bucky were being assholes when it came to your job. This was part of the job. You needed to make the sacrifice. This was not because you wanted him or because you were drunk. Okay, maybe you were turned on and drunk. But this was the job.

Brock carries you into the bedroom and he puts you down, making you stand up. He turns you around so your back is to him and he starts to unzip your dress. Pushing your hair over one shoulder he lightly kisses your neck. You feel his hands come up to your shoulders and he pushes the straps off making your dress fall to the ground. You turn towards him and he takes in your half naked form.

You stand before him in just your black panties and heels. He licks his lips as he quickly pulled his jacket and dress shirt off as you stare at him. He kicks his shoes off and takes his pants off leaving him in black boxer briefs. You walk backwards till your legs hit the bed and Brock follows you as you make your way up the bed. He is bracing himself on his arms above you and he starts to kiss his way down your neck to your ear. You can feel his warm breath as he whispers, “I have waited so long to get you under me. God you are gorgeous. I want to feel you squeeze my cock sweetheart when I’m inside you.” He starts grinding himself against your clothed pussy. You let out a moan and run your nails down his back. This was for the job. Suddenly you hear a phone ringing. At first you both ignored it but it kept ringing.

“Jesus fucking Christ you have got to be kidding me.” Brock climbs off you and grabs his jacket off the floor. He pulls his phone to answer it, “You had better have a good reason to call me.”

Silence

“What the fuck do you mean they hit our building? How many are dead?” Brock looks absolutely pissed off. You sit up on the bed and watch him throw his clothes back on. “I will be there in ten call in backup.” He hangs up the phone and continues to dress.

“Is everything alright Brock?”

“No, it's not. Its those fucking guys again that have been causing me a headache. Apparently they blew one of my building up down by the piers. Thank god I didn’t send the guns there.” He walks over to you dressed, “I’m sorry I have to leave when we were finally going to fuck but I have to take care of this.” He leans down and quickly kisses you. “I will be in touch with you later sweetheart.” Just like that Brock is gone and you are left half naked on the bed.

You want to be mad that you are left yet again horny and half naked but you are thankful this stopped you both. What the hell were you thinking? You almost slept with the enemy. You took a deep breath in and out. Climbing off the bed you go over to the closet and grab a t-shirt to wear over your panties. This will do for now. You are too drunk to deal with anything else. Walking over to the bed you turn the light off and climb under the covers.

You woke up to complete darkness. Rolling over you grabbed your phone off the side table and checked the time. It read 3:45am. Ugh, great you already have a headache forming from all the wine you drank. You got up out of bed and headed downstairs to grab a bottle of water. You decided against any lights as you felt your way down the stairs and into the kitchen.

You opened the refrigerator and grabbed a bottle of water. You walked over to the front door to make sure it was locked by Brock which thankfully he did. You got to the stairs and felt two arms come around your body. You let out a scream as you were pulled against them. You instantly threw your head back and hit them in the face causing your attacker to loosen their grip. Lurching forward you both fell to the ground. Scrambling to get up you were grabbed by your leg but you kick back at them landing a blow to their throat causing them to let go.

Making your way up the stairs you thought about your gun on the nightstand. Your head was killing you but you stumbled from the hallway to the master bedroom where you were tackled to the floor. Your masked assailant rolls you to your back and straddles your hips. You try punching them but they grabbed both your wrists pinning them to the floor.

“What do you want?” You yell at them as you struggle against them but are pinned harder to the floor.

The assailant leans forward and whispers in your ear, “To send a message.” Your eyes go wide in fear as they take both hands in one wrist and raise their other one striking you in the face. Your head feels like it is going to explode as they land another punch to your face. Going limp under them they strike you again and again. You were trying to stay conscious but it was getting hard.

They get off you leaving you limp on the floor as they start kicking you in your sides and stomach.

Every blow has you crying out. After a few minutes of being kicked you close your eyes and prayed this would be over soon. They stopped as you went limp and you felt them picking you up. They put you on your stomach on the edge of the bed and you felt them pull your underwear off. You heard his zipper and knew what was going to come next.

They leaned over your back and whispered in your ear, “Shield doesn’t like your involvement with Hydra. After tonight you will no longer do business with them or you will get far worse than this.” As soon as you felt him force himself in you, you blacked out from the pain.

Next Chapter

105 notes · View notes

manggojooz · 5 years ago

Text

Foolish Love, Fake Love (Part 3)

pairing: idol!Jungkook x bodyguard!reader

word count: ~1,800

genre: idol!au; angst; romance; drama; enemies to lovers sort of thing

warnings: none

previous part: Prologue | Part 1 | Part 2

summary: If all you can give me is a fake love, then I will be the fool to pretend that it is all true.

comments: sorry if the chapter is a bit short haha but im trying to get myself back into writing in baby steps =) pls comment or reblog if you liked this <3

How do you explain love? Is it a feeling? Is it an agreement? Is it an experience?

---

The day felt like months.

You were using Yuri’s phone to surf the net, her nose poking into the side of your chin as she leaned against your shoulder, trying to read the tiny words on her phone too.

“When are you getting your phone back?”, Yuri asked soullessly.

“Whenever the reporters stop calling, I hope...”, you answered. As though on cue, Sejoon bursts into the waiting room, causing Yuri to knock her forehead into your cheekbone when she abruptly shot up straight.

Sejoon dragged his feet along as he approached your side and held out a handphone for you. “Use this phone in the meantime, I've saved a few contacts in it for you. And Director Lee wants to see you for a while”, he said sheepishly.

You handed Yuri’s phone back to her and Sejoon caught a glimpse of the article you had been reading.

---

As you made your way to the higher floors of the BH building, the lift ride was silent and awkward. Half a day has since passed after Rapid released the exclusive article confirming that Jungkook was dating you. Sejoon suddenly blurted, “I suggest you don’t read any of the articles...”

You looked at him silently.

“You know the saying right... a pen is mightier than a sword... in this case, a keyboard is definitely mightier than a gun”, his tone was serious yet soothing at the same time.

“I know... I won’t take the articles or the comments too seriously”, you said almost nonchalantly.

He shook his head slightly, “it’s easier said than done, Y/N. It’s better if you just don’t read them at all”, he stared ahead as he nagged gently at you.

Somehow you felt a tinge of warmth from the situation, which softened the otherwise difficult and draining day.

---

“Since it doesn’t make sense for you to be a bodyguard anymore, we just said you are a staff member. But let’s be clear, you are not qualified to do any other job so your job will still be the same. In fact, now you have more to guard...”, Director Lee was rambling on more than she usually would.

You only nodded in response. For some reason, since the earlier part of the day you have felt like you no longer own a voice. It is as if you had given your tongue to the sea witch but in return you got a fake prince.

“We have put all the policies in place to ensure employee confidentiality on this situation. But since you are a lead character in all of this, we believe it calls for a little more documentation...”, she fumbled around, tossing files around her desk. It was the first time her room seemed a little messier than it usually would be.

Her assistant who had been standing next to her this whole time, meekly pointed towards a black thin folder resting under her elbow. “Alright, I got it”, she snapped.

She opens the folder and tosses a document in front of you. “Sign it”, she instructs, and her assistant almost immediately holds out a pen to you.

You stare at them with a puzzled expression and Sejoon, who had been standing in the far corner of the room, peers over in concern.

“I’ll read through it first...”, you were hardly even batting an eyelash at the whole situation now. After all the entire day has been incredulous on top of more incredulity.

Director Lee scoffs and was about to say something when Sejoon swoops in, grabs the document as well as your arm, hurrying to pacify the executive, “I will explain it all to her quickly and will get it signed by the end of today, Director Lee.”

---

“Clause 4.3, basically it’s just saying that this arrangement will be for an initial three months from today, and the management can decide whether to shorten or lengthen this term. Clause 4.4 says that you shall not speak about this arrangement with anyone outside the company...”, Sejoon was rattling all the terms written in the contract.

“... Clause 5.2...”, he paused and cleared his throat while scratching his forehead, looking rather uneasy, “... Clause 5.2 says that you cannot fall in love with Jungkook... ummm... I can’t read the rest of it to you, it’s too cringe for me... anyway point is that you should just stay professional ok?”, Sejoon gave you those little sheepish glances he was always so good at.

“What if I break any of these terms?”, you asked outrightly with folded arms, sitting across from Sejoon in the tiny pantry reserved for staff members.

“Ummm... let’s see”, he flips to one of the pages at the back, “here... you gotta return all the advance payment made to your company and its employees... meaning the payments made to Ssam Chun and Yuri too... and there’s a penalty sum”, Sejoon pauses again. “But Y/N, I hope you know this isn’t what should be of concern right? If you get into the bad books of the management, it’s not going to be just paying back all these monies.”

Sejoon was right, the power and influence that a relatively large company like BH would have, cannot be summarised in just monetary terms.

“I’ll think about it...”, it all made you more reluctant to sign off on that stupid contract.

“Y/N, there isn’t much of an option here...”, Sejoon said but he still handed the agreement to you, knowing you probably needed some time to come to terms with it.

---

You clenched the contract tightly in one hand and walked down the long corridor. This feeling was indescribable, you were confused, you were alone, you were afraid – it just felt so wrong and your entire body felt the weight of it.

You were trudging along towards the lift lobby when you think you heard Jungkook’s voice coming from a room further down. You couldn’t hear what he was saying but as you approached the room you heard a woman’s voice too.

“No Jungkook, it’s ok... I have no right to meddle in your private life like that”, she said coyly and you recognise that it is Yeonjoo’s voice. She had a distinct tonality when she spoke, and people often praised her for it – it was somehow cute and cool at the same time but not unnatural sounding.

“What do you mean, Noona?”, Jungkook sounded taken aback.

“I mean... if you are really dating her, I should be.. no, I am happy for you... I really shouldn’t have come down here today... but I just wanted to say I'm sorry for what happened the other night and I hope nothing has changed between us...”, her voice was getting softer and you had to strain your ears to hear what she was saying.

You rolled your eyes, “she’s good”, you thought to yourself. This was a classic example of managing her fish farm and Jungkook was one dumb fish trapped inside. It's not that he can’t leave, he willingly does not leave, and she sure seemed bent on making sure it stays this way.

“No, Noona... you have no idea how grateful I am that you came down. They took my phone away since this morning and I've been stuck here wondering how I am going to explain all this to you... She’s really our new bodyguard, I mean... staff member... I didn’t even know her name before today! So how can it be possible that I am dating her?”, Jungkook was exasperated.

To think about it, half the people you have guarded before probably do not remember your name. Yet now he remembers you, even though it is for one of the worst reasons ever.

Just when Yeonjoo was going on about Jungkook not having to explain himself to her, someone taps your shoulder, giving you quite the shock and you lunged backwards almost hitting him in the process.

“Oh it’s you! You gave me a shock!”, Kijin exclaimed.

“Look who’s talking”, you mumbled snidely, glaring at the man who landed you in this situation in the first place.

“Oppa? Is someone outside?”, Yeonjoo called out.

Kijin gestured for you to enter the room, as though saying ‘would you rather go in yourself or have me drag you inside?’

The moment you entered, Jungkook visibly tensed up.

“Were you eavesdropping on us?”, his frown was so deep that you started getting a little nervous.

“I was just walking past, and I heard your voice so I wanted to see if it’s a good time to talk because there’s something-”, you were making an attempt to explain yourself.

“There’s nothing to talk about between us...”, he cut you off promptly and continued frowning, his tone was very hostile.

“Jungkook, there’s no need to talk to her like that...”, Yeonjoo gently chided him, “she probably isn’t happy about landing in this situation either, just like how you are feeling.”

Jungkook lets out a light chuckle, “Apparently her handphone wallpaper is a photo of me... so I really don’t think she’s feeling what I’m feeling right now”, he said rather dejectedly. This somehow piqued Yeonjoo’s attention.

“So you are a fan?”, her eyes were already pretty huge but it got even larger, “wow... and will you still be following Jungkook around for his schedule after all the... news?”

“Seems like it... it’s still my job to do it...”, you answered earnestly, regretting coming towards the room at all.

“You must really love your job”, Jungkook suddenly turned sarcastic and you felt a twitch in your chest.

“I do...”, you tried to keep up that professional posture but was sure that your insides were tangling up slowly.

“Even if your job is making a fool of you like this?”, this was the longest Jungkook had ever looked at you in your eyes.

“I’d rather be a fool”, you answered.

“As opposed to a ---?”, he asked, still with the same annoyance he had when you had entered the room.

“As opposed to a liar...”, you thought to yourself.

You decided to face the situation and his concerns head on. "Yes, I like you as a fan, but it won’t become anything else just because of this situation.”, you said as you put down the contract on the desk before them, flipping to Clause 5.2.

“Love is not an arrangement, and it can never come from a contract. This...”, you tapped the agreement slightly with your fingertip, “this is not love. And I'm not foolish enough to believe it is. So, you really need not be worried about it either. If nothing else, just know that... as a fan, I want you to be happy at the end of the day.”

“And I will be... if you can keep that promise...”, Jungkook replied after glancing at the page laid opened before his eyes. To say his words didn’t hurt you would be a lie, but there was also a sense of relief that at least he killed any hopes before they could be groomed.

Without answering him, you picked up a random pen from the notepad holder in the middle of the table and signed your name at the end of the document.

---

Love is a promise.

And you promised, never to love him.

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unbearablynaive · 5 years ago

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A Little Sleeping Problem (Illinois x Reader)

A/N: Howdy doody everyone! Two so close together? Crazy am I right? Thank you for all the love on the last fan fic (which y’all can find here). Anywho! This Illinois fluff fan fic request comes from @bitchin-deviant ! Thanks for the request and I had alot of fun writing this! I hope you enjoy! I’m so sorry it took so long! AS ALWAYS! Please reblog with a comment or something! I love the feedback!

Words: 1K

Genre: All fluff. So much fluff.

Warnings: Light Cursing

Tags: @vibrantmissy (if you too would like to be added to the tag list just send me a message or leave a comment on any of my posts stating that you wish to be added and get tagged in my future fan fics!)

________________________________________________________________

“Look, you get to sleep in the shower because there is no way in Hell that I am sleeping in the same bed as you.” You stood at the entrance to the hotel room looking at the queen-sized bed in disgust. Another shitty motel that was just like the others except for this one only had one bed and you weren’t too keen on sharing it with Adventure Boy over here. You two may have been working together for about three months now but that doesn’t mean you were on that base. No, absolutely not. Have feelings for Illinois? Out of the question. That man was a selfish jerk who couldn’t help but flirt and compliment himself all in one sentence.

“What? I can keep you warm if you want.” The man chuckled softly as he pushed past you and walked over to the bed.

“What are you doing? No! We’re not sleeping together! I called the bed!” You burst out in anger as he gave you a cocky look and sat down on the bed. As he proceeded to stretch out and make himself comfortable you stormed over ready to shove him off if you had to. “The bed is mine Illinois. Now get off.”

“Here, I’ll tell you what we’ll do. We’ll flip for the bed. The loser gets to sleep in the shower. Got it?” The man sat up reaching into his pocket and pulling out a small coin before you could even agree. “Alrighty. Heads I win tails you lose. Got it?” and with that, the adventurer flipped the coin up in the air and caught it before he placed it on the back of his wrist. Illinois moved the top hand and it revealed the coin heads up. “Heads. Oof, nice try Y/N. Better luck next time and maybe you could even snuggle with me.”

“Heads? Ugh! You’re insufferable, you know that? An absolute asshole!” You threw down your backpack in anger as you watched the adventurer shimmy himself into a more comfortable position. “Fine, have the stupid bed. I’m going to go take a shower.” You turned and stormed off towards the bathroom, slamming the door behind you with as much force as you could.

Illinois chuckled to himself as he placed his hands behind his head. He couldn’t help but find your outburst over the bed cute. Hell, there were a lot of things about you that he seemed to find cute and the list kept growing. For example, just now, the singing in the shower as you cleaned up. Closing his eyes, he fell asleep, listening to the sound of your voice over the running water.

A couple of minutes passed and you storm out of the shower just as angry as you stormed in. A towel wrapped around you, you slapped Illinois on the leg, waking him up from his nice little cat nap. Oh, boy were you livid, standing there holding a towel around your body as you glare daggers at the groggy man. “Get up. Get. Up. Heads I win, tails you lose? Seriously?! You’re such an asshole and a cheater. Cheaters forfeit the bed. So get out.” You whacked him again for good measure as you watched him get up, hands raised in surrender. Once he was halfway up, you pushed him gently out of the road and smoothed out the creases on the bed. “Oh and take a shower, Illinois. You smell disgusting.” You commented without even looking at him.

Illinois laughed slightly out loud and dodged towards the shower before you could slap him again. “Alright, alright, alright. Fine! But no peeking.” He winked and ducked behind the door of the bathroom quickly before you could throw a pillow at his cheeky face. You tried to ignore his voice as he began to sing, reminding yourself how annoying he was. How stupid, arrogant, selfish, handsome, and annoying he was, him and that stupid face of his. After changing into some form of PJs you hopped into the bed and made yourself comfortable trying not to associate the previous warmth with Illinois' body. You could feel a warmth in your cheeks at the thought and you cleared your throat quickly trying to push it from your mind.

As the minutes passed, the shower finally shut off and out walked Illinois, with only a towel around his waist and a shit-eating grin. "How's the bed feel? Nice and warm I hope." He teased until he caught the pillow that came flying at his face. "Whoa there. Fiesty. Calm yourself down Tiger Lily." Wham! A blanket slapped him in the face evading his hands.

"Call me Tiger Lily one more time and you're sleeping in the hallway." You growled trying hard to keep the red in your cheeks to a minimum.

"Fine fine fine! I'm going. I'm going. Sleep well...Dandelion." He quickly grabbed some clothes to sleep in and with that the door to the bathroom quickly closed before you could throw anything else at his smirking face.

An hour or two passed and you were almost asleep when you heard the door to the bathroom creak open. You sat up slightly, raising an eyebrow curiously. In the doorway stood Illinois holding his pillow and blanket in hand. "It's awfully wet in here." He pouted sticking out his lower lip and turning on the puppy eyes. "Do you mind?" He asked in a soft tone, placing his hands together as if begging, "Pleaseee…"

"I...uh." You sighed heavily and rolled your eyes before nodding. "Fine. Come on." You motioned for him to come over and Illinois immediately grinned and ran over leaping into the bed next to you. "But if you snore even once it's back into the shower with you. Got it?" You rolled over so that your back faced him as you tried to hide the smile that had crossed your lips.

"Goodnight Honeysuckle." You heard the adventure mumbled softly.

"Goodnight Illinois." You whispered in return not even annoyed at the pet name as your eyes began to close, but before you fell asleep you felt a strong arm wrap around your waist as Illinois pulled his body close to yours. You felt your neck flush and your cheeks warm at the touch but you didn't pull away. No, maybe this adventurer wasn't so bad after all.

#illinois #a heist with markiplier illinois #a heist with markiplier #ahwm #ahwm illinois #fan fiction #markiplier fanfiction #a heist with markiplier fanfiction #ahwm fanfiction #illinois fanfic

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randomfandomimagine · 5 years ago

Text

Soul of a Warrior. Chapter 16: Calm Before The Storm

Fandom: The Witcher

Ship: Jaskier x Nissa (OC)

Previous Chapter - Chapter Index - Next Chapter

AO3

Please reblog and leave a comment, it would make my day!

Our relationship doesn’t change much, and at the same time, it changes drastically. We still flirt, we still joke and we are still extremely close and touchy. The only true difference is that we now openly kiss. Then how is it that our entire dynamic feels different? Is it because of the simple knowledge that the intense burning feelings are reciprocated? Is that why I can’t get enough of Jaskier? I feel closer to him than I have ever felt with anyone, and his mere presence makes me happier than I ever thought I could be. His touch alone heals the past wounds with the graze of his fingers. It makes me smile as he suddenly pulls me in closer and traps me in an embrace that I have no intention in escaping.

“Come here, angel” He says as he repeatedly kisses my face all over. My cheek, my temple, my jaw, my eyelids, the corner of my lips, just anywhere he can reach. It seems as though he can’t get enough of me either. I giggle at his endless and tireless adoring touches.

Geralt, ahead of us, loudly grunts in a clear complaint to our blatant displays of affection.

“Do that again” I tell Jaskier, and he loses no time in returning to his amorous ministrations.

“You love it, don’t you?” He smirks against my cheek, but I squeeze his hands on my stomach to claim his attention.

“I do, and by all means don’t stop” I tease him, earning a confused look from him. “But I was referring to the other thing”

“Oh” Jaskier bashfully laughs, begrudgingly quitting his kisses even if his arms linger.

There are many things I know about Jaskier. That dusk is his favorite time of the day. That he fidgets his fingers when he is nervous. That he often talks in his sleep. That he wrote his first song when he was eighteen. As it turns out, however, I have so much more to learn about him. For example, that his real name is Julian Alfred Pankratz, even if I will still always call him Jaskier, or otherwise, stupid bard. Another of the incredible facts I have learned about him is that he does a flawless Geralt of Rivia impression. I try not to gather the witcher’s attention as I muffle my laughter at Jaskier’s growling voice. He sounds exactly like Geralt.

“Fuck…” Jaskier says now, emulating the witcher’s deadpan voice to perfection.

I have to cover my mouth with my hand not to laugh out loud. Even so, I hide my face on his shoulder to suffocate the badly contained giggling. If Geralt discovers us, it will unleash his anger. Knowing this, Jaskier is having lots of fun making me laugh and putting me in his radar.

“What are you laughing at?” Geralt doesn’t bother to stop walking or even glance at us.

Jaskier takes a breath, prepared to reply, and so I quickly cover his mouth with my hand. Whatever he was about to say, I know him well enough to realize it is better if it doesn’t reach Geralt’s ears.

“Nothing” I innocently say, and the witcher only grunts in annoyance.

These few days, and much to Geralt’s vexation, Jaskier and I have been inseparable, quite literally so, as our hands seem to permanently be fused together. Our fingers always find each other to easily press our palms together, just like they do right now. Jaskier and I exchange a look and lowly giggle together. This childish energy continues on as we murmur and follow after Geralt.

After several more days of travel, we have finally reached Cintra. Everything has regained a feeling of normalcy after we visited Mousesack, Geralt’s druid friend, and he helped us recover our horses as well as our belongings left behind. After that, Geralt accepted a witcher job that we decided to join him in. I still can’t believe we have convinced Jaskier to accompany us, or rather, I have. Kader’s spirit seems to have taken over me as I find myself understanding his yearning for adventure more and more, as well as his fascination for the witcher’s job after all that we have experienced together.

A subtle shift in the ambience warns me that we are getting close. It feels eerie and heavy. Jaskier seems to feel it too, because his feet halt and his hand squeezes mine. Watching the witcher, I think of the quickest most absurd way to distract my preoccupied lover.

“Don’t you ever get the urge to braid Geralt’s hair?” I whisper to him, to which he chuckles. Jaskier has no problem in following along with my silliness as he stares at Geralt as well.

“I wish I knew how to braid”

“I could teach you”

“Really, you would do that for me? You’re so kind”

“It’s not every day I get to teach the great Jaskier something”

“Are you flirting with me, Nissa?”

“I am, thanks for noticing”

The witcher doesn’t stop walking, but he interrupts us again when we start giggling.

“What are you two muttering?” He turns to us, and I cringe a bit at the sight.

“Shit, I forgot about his eyes” I avert my gaze, finding the change jarring.

“Oh, gosh!” Jaskier exclaims himself at the sight of Geralt’s frightening black eyes. “I will never get used to that”

Surely, Geralt took the elixir knowing how dark it would be inside the crypt. Nonetheless, a part of me believes the witcher was having a bit of fun by taking the potion beforehand, precisely for Jaskier’s amusing reaction.

“We’re here” Indeed, I catch a glimpse of a smirk on Geralt’s lips. “Are you coming in?”

Now that we have arrived, I hesitate. Even from the outside, I can tell it is pitch black inside, and I can’t imagine myself navigating the dark crypt. Strange sounds reach my ears even from afar. Geralt won’t be facing only ghouls, as I believed. Imagining myself in there, I already feel the chills creeping up my neck. That place will be swarming with spiders, which would be the least of my concerns. I can picture the dread and paranoia as I blindly advance the claustrophobic rooms. For a change, I have no need to subject myself to that.

“Uh, no” Jaskier mutters for me. “No, we will wait for you here, thank you very much”

He firmly grasps my hand as he vehemently shakes his head. Perhaps he is worried that I might still run after Geralt. I no longer have any intention to do so.

“Good” Geralt absently rests his hand against the medallion hanging from his neck and then unsheathes his sword. “Stay here”

“Geralt?” My eyes quickly fall upon the pitch darkness inside the crypt before settling over his burly figure once more. “Be careful”

Geralt nods his head and faces his back to us. Before he enters, however, a growl echoes from the depths of the crypt. His shoulders grow tense and he pauses for a moment.

“Fuck” I mouth, just as Geralt speaks the word. Jaskier laughs and kisses me in the cheek.

As the witcher immerses himself into the crypt, I turn to my beloved. His bright grin awaits me as it rests against my jaw now. The butterflies return in anticipation, and although I truly enjoy his lips traveling down my neck, I take a deep breath to focus and quiet down my racing heart. We are both eager to make up for lost time, but not yet. Not now. We must take this opportunity to train again. We have been during every break in order to teach Jaskier some self-defense techniques. Or rather, I have while Geralt watches him fumble with the dagger in amusement.

“Jaskier…” I pipe up, mustering all my willpower to ask him to move away.

“If you tell me you don’t like it, I will stop” He replies against my neck, with a cocky hint to his voice.

“Oi” I push him away from me, although reluctantly. “I have something else in mind”

“Do you now?” He smirks, especially so when my hand sneaks past his doublet. “Oh, yes, show me then”

I then pull the dagger that he clings to his waistband. It is a relief to see he still carries it with him. As the realization hits, Jaskier groans in exasperation and hides his face in my neck. His warmth is enveloping and comfortable, but I must resist him.

“Ugh… please, no…” He miserably covers his face with his hands. “Not again, Nissa…”

I watch him without batting an eye. After a bit, he shows his face again. To further entice me, he shows me those trained puppy eyes and pouts his bottom lip. When I calmly shake my head at him, he runs a hand through his thick brown hair and huffs in resignation.

“Honestly, Nissa” He takes my hand as a last resort. “It’s so tedious and dull, I much rather be doing something else with you”

“You need to know how to defend yourself” I offer him the dagger, and although he eyes it, he refuses to take it. “I don’t want you getting hurt again, Jas”

Jaskier sighs, rolling his eyes with such fervor that I fear they might get stuck on his skull. Then, however, he sighs and his vexed exasperation turns to fond admiration as he watches me.

“I won’t” His arms fall around me, yet in a different manner they usually do. He is now using a lock I have taught him, securing the grip by holding his own wrist. It keeps me pinned against him. “So what happens if I refuse?”

“That’s daring” I push a hand against his chest, though he does not budge and instead tightens his hold on me. Now I have no space to move as our fronts are pressed together. “Especially given that I am armed and you are not”

“You can never hurt me” He is cocky enough to not only whisper those words, but to also lean his mouth dangerously close to mine as he does.

“Do you have a death wish, stupid bard?” I lean the tip of the dagger below his chin.

Jaskier cocks an eyebrow, and although he doesn’t move, the smugness lingers on his lips. There we stand, not moving an inch. His mouth is still dangerously close to mine. It would be terribly easy to kiss him, and the offer is far too tempting. He knows this and smirks.

Of course I would never hurt him. I just hoped he had the decency of pretending this was a real fight. It is completely useless given that he is determined not to train now. As well as the fact that I cannot resist him no matter how hard I try. I glare at him, though he holds my gaze as I lower the weapon. He nods his head, satisfied, and drops his arms. His bright smile returns with ease as he stares at me. When I shake my head at him, he plops down in a big boulder and pouts at me from below.

“Why don’t you just sit here instead?” He suggestively pats his lap. “Rest for a bit, darling”

“I mean it, Jaskier” I roll my eyes at him despite the smile that tugs at the corners of my lips. A similar gesture plays on his even as he pushes my hand away, and with it the dagger. “You need to keep learning and-“

“Then why don’t you have Geralt teach me, hm?”

“Because I need an excuse to be this close to you”

“You don’t need any excuses”

I yelp as he unexpectedly takes ahold of my hips and pulls me down into his lap. He lovingly squeezes me against him and nuzzles my neck. I have found my sides aren’t the only tickling spot, as the back of my shoulders grows tingly with his touch.

“Don’t…” I try to convince myself that training is more important than this, although less pleasurable. “Jas…”

“Don’t?” He laughs as he moves to delicately kiss the bit of skin exposed in my shoulder. “Don’t what?”

“You know what, Jaskier…” My arms find their way around his neck as I give in and pull him closer against me. I clench my jaw when he smugly smirks against me.

“Just relax, Nis” With his words, I heave a deep breath and lay my head on his shoulder.

I have been a bit tense ever since he got hurt. Honestly, it terrifies me that I may not be able to heal him again if he were to be injured once more. All this stress melts away, however, when his nimble fingers sink into my hair. I close my eyes and lose myself in the feeling of his loving caresses.

“Aren’t you tired?” His tender voice nearly lulls me to sleep, as I am indeed fatigued. “You’ve got many visits lately”

“People need healers, just like they need witchers”

“And bards, as well”

“Do they now? What do you do, dear bard?”

“I, my lovely Nissa” He pauses dramatically. “Bring joy and cheer to the hearts of people by means of song”

“Do you?” Our gazes meet, and when they do, I cock an eyebrow at him.

“Why, of course!” Jaskier frowns in response. I can only laugh as I tease him more.

“Do you really think of your music so highly?” I hold on to his nape as I move my mouth dangerously close to his. He takes a deep breath, though he gulps as he glances down to my lips. I smirk, but don’t move.

“Don’t you start it too” Now he is the one trying to distance himself from me, holding a finger up. “Geralt complains about my songs, like he doesn’t enjoy them. You both love them, don't you dare deny it”

“We don’t” A laugh escapes me when he gasps and gawks at me.

“Nis-“ Before he can complain, I silence him with a kiss. My hand cups his cheek, and my thumb caresses him to confirm that I wasn’t serious in my taunting, even if he already knows.

Our lips move in sync, hungry for each other’s taste, as we cling on to the other’s body. The sound of our love, translated into kisses, fills the silent environment. My lungs start burning and begging for oxygen, and only then do I break away from him. Our eyes meet and we smile. We laugh together. I have been missing these brief intimate moments. We stop to rest too sparingly, and even when we do Geralt is not too keen on putting up with our affection.

I accommodate myself against his lap, overcome with that feeling of happiness once more. If we hadn’t been a pair of idiots, we could have had this sooner, though perhaps destiny meant it to happen this way... to ensure it was the right moment, that we were properly prepared to reach this part in our relationship. Perhaps we needed to be separated for a bit in order to get here.

As he repeatedly pecks my jaw, I giggle and lock my arms around his neck. Jaskier’s lips suddenly latch to my neck once more, more passionately than before. Heat arrives to my cheek and spreads down my body, filling me within and leaving me breathless.

“Jaskier!” I call him in outrage between ragged breaths.

“Hm?” He only asks, not stopping his ministrations.

“Geralt will return any moment” I remind him when his mouth and hands start growing hungry. The downside of our wait is the fact that our passion now overflows as we had been repressing it for so long.

Jaskier complies and only nuzzles my neck instead. I sigh in relief, instructing my accelerated heart to quiet down. The torture of being with him without being with him had been unbearable for me too. The more I think about it, the more I wonder how I had enough restraint not to throw myself at him. Perhaps the fear of rejection was too great. I smile in content and forget about all that. We are here now, together.

Returning to our previous position, his hand is in my hair once more. I shove my face in the crook of his neck as he caresses me and lowly starts singing an improvised tune.

“You’re going to put me to sleep…” He has definitely done a good job in soothing my anguish. I feel completely relaxed, nearly lulled to slumber with the marvelous sound of his beautiful voice. Jaskier laughs.

The short pause that follows foretells mischief. I never find out why. Something heavily suddenly drops next to us. I jump in alarm, and Jaskier yelps as well. Confused, the both of us look to see a ghoul head on the ground. Geralt walks to reunite with us, saving his sword.

“Bloody hell…” Jaskier’s hand moves to rest against his chest.

“You have a twisted sense of humor, witcher” I tell him, averting my eyes from the sight.

“Don’t do that!” Jaskier absently ushers me off his lap to stand up and scold him. “You scared me out of my wits, Geralt!”

The witcher smirks a bit, staring at me. Although he startled me too, I must admit it was quite funny. Jaskier, however, is going on about how rude it was and how Geralt is a brute.

“Good to know you have my back, Jaskier” He teases him in a deadpan voice. The bard follows after him when Geralt heads back towards the horses.

“I mean it, Geralt!” Jaskier continues speaking nonsense. “How would you-?”

Calm throughout his melodrama, I take him by the shirt and pull him against me. When my lips smash against his, he breathes out and it doesn’t take long for him to melt into the kiss. I smile, and he puts a hand on my side to squeeze it. Giggling to his retaliation, I pull away and grin at him.

“How did you do that?” Geralt quickly turns to us.

“Do what?” I separate myself from Jaskier, even if my hand lingers over his shirt and plays with his chest hair.

“Shut him up” The witcher watches us intently, and I have to purse my lips in amusement.

“I kissed him” I don’t say that I did so just to, in fact, shut him up. It’s clear for our friend.

“Hm” Geralt turns back around and continues walking. “Maybe it’s not so bad after all…”

“Unbelievable!” Jaskier takes my hand off him and scowls at me. “By all means, speak your mind about how insufferable you think I am, Nissa, you-“

I kiss him again, smirking against his lips. Jaskier melts into the exchange once more. Both his hands fly to my waist in an automatic gesture. I show him an angelical smile as we pull away and he grins like a fool.

“Heh...” Jaskier cutely wrinkles his nose at me. “Had I known I was so irresistible, I…”

“Yes?” I encourage him when he stops himself.

“Wait, did you just do it again?” When I push my face against his shoulder to suffocate my laughter, he insistently pats the small of my back. “Oi, answer me, Nissa!”

I press my lips together, trying not to laugh. I know it will only earn me his never ending outrage. It becomes a hard task when Geralt grins at the bard’s outraged ramblings.

Another city, another inn. After so long, they all start blurring together. The only real proof of the passing of time is the situation we are in. The first inn welcomed us as nearly strangers. Then we were companions and almost friends. Now… well, now things are very different. As well as a strengthening of our bonds, there is another change. Precariousness hangs in the air. We have been evading the subject, yet that won’t make the problem disappear. We must face it and do something about it.

Geralt nods his head, hidden under his hood, and quietly occupies a table in the corner of the tavern. Jaskier and I make our way towards the reception, knowing what we are to do. My stomach churns in anticipation as we reach the weary innkeeper.

“Hello, good sir” Jaskier starts, making use of his particular charm. “We are looking for someone, can you help us?”

“Who?” The man replies, glancing from one to the other.

I approach the counter to address him. I have to make a conscious effort not to look at Geralt waiting at the table. Even if he is wearing the hooded cape, I worry for him.

“A group of treasure hunters” I continue, which Jaskier allows me. “Most of them have brown hair. One of them has a big scar on his jaw, here”

As soon as I point a finger to my own face, the barkeeper squints and nods. By the disgust in his eyes, I can tell he has definitely encountered them.

“A bunch of scoundrels” Indeed, he nods his head. “As far as I know, they headed for the outskirts”

Jaskier and I share a look of understanding. A sinking feeling reaches my stomach.

“Will there be anything else?” The man asks us, and Jaskier is quick to answer.

“Three tankards of your best ale, please” Expertly hiding his restlessness, he leans on the counter.

We take the mugs, thanking the innkeeper, and return with Geralt. My head boils with thoughts. They are still here. Perhaps we can anticipate their next assault by attacking first. The three of us are done hiding and willing to face it.

“They’re at the outskirts” Jaskier says as he sits in front of Geralt and hands him the ale.

“They might have a hideout there” His voice projects from the depths of the cape.

“I hate to be a downer, but we are actively seeking those who want to kill us and nearly succeeded many times” The bard sighs, gesticulating quite a lot as he rests his hands over the table. “Are we sure this is a good idea?”

“What is our other option?” I don’t like this anymore than he does, but we have to retaliate. “Let them kill us? Sit by and wait to be slaughtered?”

Jaskier watches me in silence, pressing his lips together in unease.

“We’ll go to the outskirts first thing tomorrow” Geralt’s golden eyes shine slightly under the cape. “We need to be well rested and prepared”

“And uh… what is my role here?” Jaskier asks, looking from me to him. “A distraction? I can do that”

I smirk, and although I'm about to tease him, I wish he could just stay behind where he is safe. However, just like Geralt, he is involved in this. Those men made sure of it when they injured him. It isn’t only a personal matter to me because of Kader. Those bastards made it personal for them too.

“You just be pretty and stay quiet” I move the mug close to my lips to drink. “Although the last part might be hard for you”

“I’ll show you, you little minx” Jaskier passionately mutters between grit teeth. Then he whispers something in my ear, something that causes me to blush violently and choke on my beverage. The bastard sniggers when I start coughing.

“I don’t want to know” Geralt lets his eyes wander, finding interest in anything other than us. “Stop that already”

Even as he pats my back to aid me in my recovery from choking on the ale, Jaskier smirks.

“I…” My attempt to regain my composure fails, and I have to wait several more seconds until my voice obeys my command. “If you will excuse me, I’m off to take a bath”

I stand up without waiting for any responses. In any case, I have a faint idea of what Jaskier’s might be. And I prefer he doesn’t say it in front of Geralt.

I absently dry my hair with the towel, letting my thoughts wander. I’m not focusing on anything in particular, but I still get slightly startled when the door opens behind me.

“Hey, Jas” I smile at him when he languidly comes in.

“Hello, my love” There is a mischievous grin plastered in his lips.

“What is it?” I stop the motion of my hands, leaving my wet hair to dry on its own. As he advances towards me, his expression only intensifies. “Do you have mischief on your mind?”

Jaskier approaches me, and now his smirk acquires a mysterious glow. I wish I was psychic like Hana always said. That way I could read his mind right this moment.

“Not exactly” He ceremoniously takes the towel from my hands and carelessly tosses it over his shoulder.

“What are you doing?” I observe him under the dim light filtering through the window to my right. Only the little sunlight left, as it turns to night, illuminates his features.

Jaskier now smiles sweetly, as though the light wasn’t making his profile attractive enough.

“Nothing, I just missed you” He shrugs a bit, but I’m not quite buying his innocent act.

Indeed, he puts his arms around me and brings me close. I rest my hands on his chest, ready to push him back if he gets cocky, which he might. We remain silent while we stare into each other’s eyes.

“I only took a bath” I scoff, playfully wrinkling my nose at him. “We saw each other no more than ten minutes ago, you-“

His lips interrupt me when they hungrily seek mine. My eyes close on their own. I lose the ability to breathe. My body automatically responds to the kiss, deepening it as he does. It brings me back to that moment outside the crypt, making it harder to ignore my desire for much longer. My hands fly to his nape, bringing him impossibly close to me. His hands against the small of my back do too, even if there is no space at all between our bodies. Our mouths dance in sync, drinking from each other’s essence. I feel so connected to him that I almost think our hearts are synchronized as well. Jaskier is breathless, and he begrudgingly leaves my mouth for oxygen. I take a deep breath myself, feeling my heart racing and my breathing erratic. But he doesn’t stop there. He quickly goes for my neck. He seems to have special fondness for that spot. When the butterflies appear in my stomach, my brain gives an alarm. I’m enjoying Jaskier’s lips on my neck, perhaps a little too much, which is why I nervously push him away. He gawks at me, his mouth still frozen in the position for a kiss.

“What’s the matter, Nissa?” He asks, showcasing that puppy look in his beautiful blue eyes.

“You sneaky little shit…” I chuckle in awe, understanding what his intentions were. Especially when I have to take a second to calm down, and his red cheeks tell the same tale.

“What do you mean, love?” The bard still looks innocently at me, so I give him a soft glare.

“You know exactly what I mean”

“You don’t… you don’t want to do that?”

He has turned more serious, noticing my hesitance. I sigh, conflicted about my own emotions. There are many reasons why I am unsure.

Firstly, what awaits us tomorrow feels too important to focus on anything else. I fear that, if we were to trespass that threshold, it would be more due to the fear of losing our chance than because we desire to do it. We know the dangers that lay at the outskirts.

Secondly, the matter is more personal than just the possibility of meeting an early end. It had been so long since last time. Thinking about that moment also brings Vizima to mind. It reminds me how much has occurred since I last was this intimate with someone, how love and sex had completely left my mind when more important things, like grief or loss, occupied my thoughts and my soul.

Jaskier’s hands, which had been firmly settled on my hips, leave me completely. The absence of his touch makes me feel cold and empty. I shiver, unsure if because of the low room temperature or the conflict within me.

“We don’t…” He scrunches his face in a carefree gesture. “We don’t have to do it if you don’t want to, I…”

My finger goes to rest against his lips, efficiently silencing him. We stare at each other for a moment. His eyebrows arch in surprise and anticipation.

“It’s not that…” My hands slid down his neck and over his shoulders. This encourages him to rest his on my back, returning to that warm touch. “I just don’t want that to be the only thing between us now. I don’t want our relationship to be only that”

“Nis…” The nickname warns me of a light-hearted response. He adorably tilts his head as well, staring at me fondly. “You know I don’t want just that either. I fell for you, all of you. Not just what you can give me”

“Well, I-“

“I wasn’t finished!”

“Go on then, silly”

“Do you want to know when I knew I was inevitably in love with you?”

“When?”

“Back when you so wittily verbally retaliated against me for calling you a delicate flower”

“Jaskier... that’s the day after we met”

“Precisely”

“And you waited all this time to court me”

“I wasn’t waiting, I continuously tried to-“

“No, you didn’t! How was I to know your endless and obvious adoration was genuine?”

We both laugh when I begrudgingly take most of the blame. Only most of it.

“I’ll tell you how. I promise you something, Nissa… your heart is safe with me”

“I…” His earnest emotional response surprises me for a moment. “I bet you tell that to everyone”

Jaskier grins in amusement to my teasing. His pretty eyes twinkle as he watches me fondly. It only fuels my desire to taunt him, so I peck his lips and retreat immediately after. He groans in quite a needy whine.

Delicate flower… I smirk to myself at the thought that I proved him wrong. And I proved him right. Perhaps I can be a delicate flower, but as he once said, roses are flowers with thorns.

“H-Hang on… Jaskier…” I gasp when I am hit with realization. “That day… Delicate Flower… That song…”

Jaskier grins. Even that gesture is breathtaking. He arches his eyebrows and vehemently nods his head. For a moment, watching his smug grin, I forget what we were talking about.

“Thank you for noticing, love” He playfully kisses me on the nose. “It took you a bit”

“Is that why it took you so long to write it?” It is my turn to smirk, and he blushes a tad.

Jaskier doesn’t reply. In fact, his eyes look anywhere but me. I laugh and slap his shoulder.

“What’s the matter, Jas?” I teasingly say, squeezing his arm. “You seem flustered”

Jaskier now stares into my eyes. His gaze is piercing, intense. When he opens his mouth to reply, his tone is hushed and tender.

“How to express what my heart yearned to say? There was no way to show how I feel about you. Even now that the song is finished… it doesn’t quite explain all these wonderful things you make me feel”

The tables are turned when I am now flustered myself. His sweet smile, reinforcing his genuine words, only makes matters worse. Nonetheless, I tilt my chin up and recover.

“If you’re so smitten, then explain that entrance, you cheeky bard” I try to hide my nervousness by teasing him, poking his shoulder. “Did you harbor pure thoughts then?”

“I will admit” He smirks, responding to my provocation. Nonetheless, his hand gives my waist a comforting squeeze. “I had only one thing in mind, but… you were in the bath”

“You… ugh” When I feel myself turning several shades redder, I plop my forehead against his chest. Jaskier chuckles, delicately tangling his fingers in my wet hair.

“Fine, you perv-” As soon as we are face to face again, he lifts one finger and leans it against my lips. His soft expression shocks me. It is softer than I have seen in a while.

“Do you want to?” He insists, slowly retracting his finger so I can speak.

“I do”

“Great”

“But!” I hold my hand up, causing him to arch his eyebrows in expectation. “You better treat me right still after, Jas, or I will-“

He interrupts my flimsy joking threat with a kiss, showcasing the sweetest of touches yet. My eyes flutter closed and I happily shiver. I hang on to him, pressing myself against his chest as close as I can. Our lips meet again and again with feather light pressure. Delicately.

Jaskier slowly breaks away, and I open my eyes to look at him.

“I love you, Nissa” He suddenly says. I gawk at Jaskier, as he said it so confidently. There are no doubts in his mind whatsoever that what he says is true, that his feelings are real and strong. I have the conviction that so are mine.

Unaware that I have been holding my breath, I let it out. His brows knit in concern, though I smile reassuringly. A timid grin grows on his lips as well.

“And I love you too, my stupid bard” I say in return, caressing his face. Saying those words feels right. Voicing those feelings is freeing, cathartic. It finally feels as though I have confessed what gnawed at me for far too long.

Jaskier sighs with a mixture of relief and glee. A bright smile grows on his mouth. He leans in, and just as his lips are brushing against mine, I halt. The moment somehow feels familiar. He stares at me in awe.

“Why does it feel like I have said it before?”

“Because…” Jaskier pauses for a brief moment, showcasing a smug smirk. “You said it before”

“Oh, no… that day... I forgot about it…” I hide in his chest in embarrassment. He kisses my hair, even if the bastard is laughing as his lips linger on my head.

“You didn’t believe me” Jaskier says to further tease me. “And you started sobbing”

I chuckle in spite of myself, and shiver when he returns to kiss me. My breath shakes in my chest as he busies his mouth with my neck.

“I'm glad..." I can hardly speak as the butterflies intensify and spread the heat of passion within me. "That my embarrassment is amusing to you”

As soon as I lock eyes with him, we both laugh together. Jaskier then wiggles his eyebrows at me. A mischievous laugh is all warning I get before he kisses me on the lips again. I just melt right into it, into his arms. Against his mouth. I even find myself giggling as we both stumble in our passionate stupor and fall together onto the bed.

Tag list: @x-joie-x / @x-jodi-x / @dancingwith-thesunflowers / @golden-guide / @alwayshave-faith / @this-is-whump-dammit / @legallyblindgamer727 / @lilyevans1 / @kingniazx / @molethemollie / @a-somehow-functioning-dumbass // Let me know if you want to be added to the tag list to be notified when I post next chapter!!

#please reblog!!#jaskier x oc #jaskier x reader #soul of a warrior #soaw #witcher #witcher fanfiction #the witcher #the witcher fanfiction #geralt of rivia #geralt #jaskier #oc #original character

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darkestangel1326 · 5 years ago

Text

Prologue - This was real life. Right?

Hey lovelies. So I know it is likely no one is going to read this but me but I just had to write this anyway. For me. Posting for the same reason! Fic under the “Keep reading” cut, but here’s how I got here:

This all started when I wondered what would happen if MC was a scientist. Or a science grad student. But then I thought, what would be enough to compel a scientist or science grad student to stop their sciencing realistically for any amount of time? Because as my previous PI says, every scientist becomes a mad scientist at least in one point in their careers for their research - this is especially true for grad students.

Then, I just never understood the whole returning a phone excuse Unknown gave MC to lure her into Rika’s apartment. Like MC, with her own phone, is gonna return a phone she doesn’t even have, just because Unknown was persistent? He even says he’s a student in the States who will eventually return home so what was with the urgency to go to find the owner? If he really wanted to return the phone, he could’ve mailed it since he has the address right? We know he does because he sends MC there. It just always bothered me.

Finally, I wanted to slightly self-insert to make the MC (Emme C.) a bit more human so that it even if you couldn’t change her choices, it would still be entertaining. I heavily relied on second person, to help give it the mystic messenger vibe though I’m not sure it works.

This prologue is some character building for Emme C. (Actual name: Emme Cee), brief OC appearances and, for my sanity, this is all taking place in the US. TBH I’m not even sure how deep I want to go with this story. I just know I needed to write it.

So without further ado!

“My biggest fear and why? Hmmm,” you mulled it over and took another sip of your beer, after your lab mates glared at you for an answer.

Or former labmates - you were leaving for grad school in a few weeks so this was kind of your farewell social. Even with your general distaste of beer, even you had to admit this one was really good.

You closed your eyes and sheepishly rubbed your neck. “This is gonna sound weird but a time loop,” you answered hesitantly. “It just makes me uneasy to be stuck in never-ending cycle, replaying the same scenario over and over again with no end in sight.”

“True but we are in academic research!” Marie answered, a teasing lilt to her voice that transformed into a chuckle.

“Yeah you might have to deal with it during your Masters program, especially the thesis stage.” Whitney continued, joining in with a laugh.

“Don’t remind me,” you giggled as you took another sip - a longer sip - of your beer. “But that’s not exactly what I mean either” you persisted, a bit more seriously.

I’m afraid of replaying the same day, the same events, the same interactions over and over again, not knowing why or how to stop it,” you finished more seriously. You took another sip of the fizzy drink and felt your equilibrium teeter a bit.

“You mean like that movie Groundhog Day?” Aurora quietly inserted.

“I haven’t seen that movie but if it’s like what I said, then yes, that’s it,” you answered, your fizzy drink now gone.

“Sorry wait. Why are you afraid of time loops? I think I missed that part. Wouldn’t replaying the same day and seeing how your choices change events be a good thing?” Sally asked. Technically, she was completely right - repeatability was one of the sacred ideals of science after all. Plus, If you really thought about it, you hadn’t actually said why you’re afraid of time loops, just that you are.

“I’m afraid of never moving forward - of never progressing, no matter how hard I try or work. A time loop means, yes, I’ll know what my choices would entail, but not how to escape or what the triggering event for my release could be. I could replay the time period of the same few weeks but for years without knowing how to escape and move on. And, I guess, since it took me so long to even start my Master’s and I felt like I might never be able to, this fear was just born,” you admitted, pouring more beer for yourself.

I mean an actual time loop where every single thing happens the exact same way, down to the underlying rhythm of conversation. And where you can’t escape until you figure out the common problem then fix it. How would you escape it? And what if you mess up, in different ways, forever? Who would want that?!

—————————————————————————

You awoke with a sigh, realizing you had that dream again. Or was it a flashback since this happened a few weeks ago? You shrugged your shoulders and got to work sorting boxes. You were set to start on-campus work in a few weeks so you were just trying to do the bare minimum research wise. Plus, you wanted to really focus on decorating your new apartment and get acquainted with the town since you’d be living there for the next few years.

After a few hours of scrambling and organizing, you sat on the floor (you were still in the process of buying furniture), and looked at your emails.

One in particular caught your attention, so much so that you took off your glasses and rubbed your eyes, almost laughing at such a cartoony response. The subject line of this email was what confused you. It read “missing research paper - need citation”. It was an unfamiliar email, moreover, it was sent to your previous college email, which was linked to your past research publications.

Curious, you bit the inside of your cheek and read the email.

“Dear Emme,

Hope this email finds you well. I am a student from XXX University and have been working on a research project concerning XXX. Your research was one of the most recent and prominent examples as to why this area needs further study, however, I have not been able to access the paper I saved as a bookmark in my web browser. After extensive searching, I have been unable to find the original paper or even one of the articles that referenced it - almost as if the article has completely disappeared from existence! Is there a reason the research article is gone? If not, could you provide me with an idea of where it is and the proper citation for my research article?”

what. whAT. WHAT!?

Your research couldn’t be gone! This didn’t make any sense! Yes it was a few years old, but it couldn’t be gone from the web! There are research papers from the 1960s that are archived and accessible online for goodness sake!

You had to calm down. Take deep breaths. You continued trying to breathe as you pulled out your research flash drive. You looked for the paper on your there and found it, sighing in relief. It grounded you, reminding you that your work did exist. Just as you were set to attach the file and corresponding citation to the email, your internet stopped.

Scratch that, your entire laptop stopped.

You groaned. Yes, this was an older, refurbished model, but it’s been working fine. The screen distorted for a second, as if the extra pixel boxes emphasized the frozen nature of your screen. Before you even had time to process it, your laptop unfroze and you breathed a sigh of relief.

Thank heavens. You had just moved and weren’t sure you could realistically afford a new laptop anytime soon. As you look over your screen, however, your relief shifts to panic.

omg. oMG. OMG!

It’s gone. Your research files. The ones on your laptop and on your flash drive. The email is gone. Before you can refresh the page you get logged out. You can’t even log into your old email account - Error 404 Not Found.

Your heart races. Then, it aches. You worked so hard on those projects. They were part of your scientific fabric and now both were just gone. Your years of work, gone in seconds.

You felt like crying. But you decide not to, at least not until you’re in the shower where the tears can blend in with the cascading liquid as you sing emo music.

For now, you decide a quick walk and some fresh air are what you need, so you grab your keys and head for the mailbox. You’ve only lived in this apartment for a week but you check the mail constantly in an effort to get in the habit rather than because you expect something.

But today, you did get something. A small parcel with no return address. Curious, you take that and the grocery flyers to your apartment and open the package there.

A phone? It’s from the same company as yours, just a slightly older model.

You blink at it, almost telepathically asking it what it’s doing in your mailbox. You decide to turn it in to the mail service and are about to put it back in its envelope when you notice a note.

“Charge me”

“What the hell is going on today?” You mutter as you pull out your charger and plug it into the phone.

You sit on the floor with this new phone in hand and sigh. “Why am I even taking orders from a mysterious note for anyway?”

Just then the screen lights up. There’s no passcode so opening the phone was super easy. The phone’s screen and minimal app selection almost made you think it was new, but the lack of setting it up told you that wasn’t the case. Who would buy this phone and not use it? And why did they send it to you?

There is one app that calls to you, mostly because you’ve never seen it before. And because it was unlike the rest of the default apps on the screen.

RFA? What’s that?

Just then, the screen turns dark and green characters zoom up through the screen. You sucked with all tech but even you knew this reaction was abnormal. You swore you didn’t press the app but seeing the phone continue reacting, you become less confident.

“Hello?”

You stare at the screen. ‘Unknown’ was messaging you.

You respond. Stupidly. Naively. And without thinking about the consequences.

Because this was real life. Right?

What’s the worse that could happen?

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

I’m debating taking this next part a few routes...we’ll see what I decide...

If you, by any chance made it all the way down here, can you drop a reblog or something with your thoughts? Was Emme Cee likable? Did the flow make sense? Do you like where this is going? Let me know!

#mystic messenger #mysme #mysme fic prologue #DA writes #This was Real Life. Right?

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justauthoring · 6 years ago

Text

In Denial [C.S.]

Request: How about one with Christofer schistad trying to gain readers interest in school all the time, flirty af 😂 and like some of the skam girls try to push them together so they have an in to the penetrators parties 😂❤️ the like “I don’t like you...but yeah I do”. Do I make any sense? Hehe never requested before 😊

Please don’t plagiarize my work!

Word Count: 1,588

“He doesn’t like me.”

The girls pause, as if questioning if you’d really just said that, before they all, simultaneously, burst out in laughter.

You only blink at them in response, brows furrowing. “What?”

Placing a hand against her lips, Noora shakes her head; “sorry, sorry,” she calls, still unable to hide her laughter as it bleeds into her words. Her eyes are scrunch up in absolute amusement as she sets her hand on Sana’s shoulder. “It’s just, are you really that oblivious?”

Once again you find yourself speechless, staring back at them with furrowed brows.

The girls glance at each other, and only pausing a moment, Sana leans forward, setting her hand on the table. “You really think he doesn’t like you?”

Shrugging your shoulders, you nod. “Well, yeah.”

“But all he does is flirt with you,” Chris reminds, raising an arch brow over at you. “Like consistently.”

“He flirts with everyone,” you dismiss, shaking your head as you close your locker. “I mean, he’s a fuckboy. He’ll flirt with anyone that even looks at him.”

“No, no,” Eva argues, shaking her head as she wags her pointer finger at you. “But it’s different with you.”

Squinting your eyes, you pause in thought. “How so?”

“Well, for starters,” Vilde starts, shifting in her seat slightly as she straightens out. As per usual, there’s a bright smile on her lips, her bubbling personality shining through as she raises a finger to start naming off her examples. “He looks at you every time you’re near him, when he thinks you aren’t looking.”

“Which you usually aren’t,” Noora adds to which Vilde nods.

“And,” Vilde continues, “he’s always making excuses to be near you. He texts you like twenty-four-seven. And I haven’t seen him flirt with another girl since the two of you started getting close.”

You purse your lips in thought, thinking back to previous times that fit with Vilde’s examples. You hate it, because you don’t wanna get your hopes up, but she’s kind of right. Things have been different with him ever since he started talking to you, you’d just refused to notice it or believe it because you didn’t wanna get your heart broken. He was, after all, a fuckboy and you didn’t need your heart broken, let alone by him.

“Oh!” Eva exclaims, pulling your eyes on her as she turns to you with a grin. “And he practically fucks you with his eyes.”

‘Okay...” You say slowly, leaning back in your seat. “Then maybe that’s all he wants. To get in my pants.”

Noora shakes her head, “no, no, it’s different with you. I know it’s different.”

“Guys, it’s--”

“What’s not different?”

A gasp of surprise leaves your lips as a pair of arms wrap around your waist. Instantly, all chatter falls silent as you turn your head over your shoulder, meeting none other than Chris’, the boy the girls have been trying to convince you is in love with you, eyes. Your cheeks instantly flame red at the intimate position the two of you are in, trying to ignore the racing of your heart.

“Uh,” you begin, stammering slightly. “Nothing, nothing.”

Chris’ eyes narrow slightly in question, and he turns to the other girls who only shrug in response. Deciding to just leave it, Chris pushes it aside, meeting your eyes as a smirk falls on his lips. “Me and the boys are having a party at William’s tonight, you should come.”

It takes you a minute to realize he’s just speaking to you; “can I bring the girls?” You question, gesturing over to your friends.

Chris nods, “of course.”

“Then,” Vilde speaks up, pulling eyes on her as she grins brightly. “We’ll be coming.”

Keeping his eyes on you, Chris raises a brow; “yeah?”

Biting your lip, you nod slowly. “Yeah.”

“Awesome,” he grins, pulling his arms away from you, but not without letting them wander and drift for a little bit longer than appropriate. He’s stepping back quicker then you realize you want him to, and your eyes never leave his form until he’s disappeared from your view.

“Doesn’t like you, my ass.”

Turning to the girls, you roll your eyes.

“You say he doesn’t like you,” Sana grins, raising a knowing brow which causes your cheeks to warm slightly. “But i’ll change your mind tonight.”

“Oh, come on! He did not!”

“I kid you not,” Eva laughs, throwing her head back, “he ran out the moment I took my shirt off.”

“Were you not upset?” Vilde asks, a frown on her lips. Her comment causes yours, Eva’s and Noora’s laugh to die out somewhat. Actually, you hadn’t really thought of that possibility. You’d probably be a little wounded if the guy you were trying to have sex with all of a sudden ran out of the room.

Eva shrugs, tipping her head back as she takes a large sip from her drink. “Not really,” she says simply, “it’s his lost.”

“That’s the way to look at it,” you grin, high-fiving Eva with a laugh.

Slowly, the laughter dies, and as you dip your own head back to take a drink, you’re suddenly elbowed in the chest by Noora. It causes you to nearly choke on your drink, pulling your cup back as you said her a nasty glare, questioning her with your eyes. She simply just nods her head past you, causing you to turn your head to right right. Your eyes widen when you’ve seen what she has.

“Hey guys,” Sana grins, mischief in her eyes. “Look at who I brought.”

You can’t really seem to focus on her however, and rather Chris, who’s stood next to her, grinning. His eyes seem to only be focused on yours as well.

“Hey!”

“He was actually looking for you, Y/N,” Sana explains, eyes falling on you.

You blink up at Chris in surprise; “you were?”

“Yeah,” he nods, shuffling over to where you’re sat before extending his hand out towards you. “I was wondering if we could talk.”

You glance back at the girls nervously, who all just nod their head in encouragement, before letting your hand slip into Chris’, allowing him to pull you up to his feet. He begins pulling you through the crowd with another word, and before you know it, you’re upstairs and away from the chaos, heading into what you can only assume is William’s room

And as Chris shuts the door behind you, you let your eyes wander around, your nerves getting the best of you as you swallow thickly.

Then, Chris’ hand is on your shoulder, gently pulling you towards him until he’s tugging you closer by the waist. You let him, leaning into his touch as your hands tentatively moving to his shoulders, biting your bottom lip. As Chris’ eyes slowly flicker upwards to meet your own, his left hand making it’s way up your neck to your cheek, cupping it, you realize somewhere along the way that this is it. You two are finally alone and it seems like Chris is done waiting.

And you’re right. Because before you know it, his lips are pressed against your own, and you’re reciprocating. It feels like you’ve been waiting for Chris to kiss you forever.

You let your lips part, letting his tongue sliding in as his hand moves to cup the back of your head.

Somewhere along the way, you snap out of your stupor. Sure, you’ve wanted to kiss Chris for a long time, but you didn’t just care about the sex. You’d reluctantly fallen for the boy and if this was truly all he wanted, you needed to get away before you got your heart broken.

So you pull back, and despite his confusion, Chris lets you, eyes slowly fluttering open to glance down at you.

Avoiding his gaze, you lower it to the ground. “I guess you didn’t really wanna talk, huh?”

You’re met with silence, and fear floods you, thinking that that was it. You’d made your intentions clear and it was obvious Chris didn’t want to say the same thing. So, knowing there’s nothing more to be said, you move to step back. However, you don’t make it very far before Chris’ hand is on your wrist, halting your movements.

“Wait,” he calls, “you don’t think...?”

Meeting his eyes, you frown. “What am I supposed to think?” You question with a shake of your head. “You said you wanted to talk, but the first thing you do is shove your tongue down my throat.”

Lips parting, Chris’ eyes widen. “I do wanna talk.”

“I’m sure.”

“No, listen, Y/N,” Chris calls urgently, tugging you towards him. “I... I got ahead of myself. I don’t... I don’t just want you for sex.”

Blinking, your jaw clenches at you glance up at him.

“Maybe at first I did, yeah,” he nods with a shrug. “But... But it’s different now. I can’t explain it, I don’t know how to explain it, but I didn’t just bring you in here to sleep with you and then leave you. I want to be with you.”

You bite your lip, eyes squinting in thought. “How can I know?”

“Because,” Chris begins, cupping both of your cheeks. “If you left here and nothing happened, I would stop coming running to you tomorrow. I want something more, Y/N.”

You meet his gaze steadily, licking your bottom lip. “Okay,” you say finally.

Chris’ eyes flood with hope, “okay?”

Smiling, you nod. “Okay, let’s do this.”

Let me know what you thought? Remember, reblogging always helps!

Requests are open!

#skam #skam imagine #skam norway #christoffer schistad #christoffer schistad imagine #christoffer schistad x reader #chris schistad #chris schistad imagine #herman tommeraas #imagine #imagines

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remnantoforario · 6 years ago

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RWBY Manga Chapter 3

So here we go with chapter 3 of my RWBY manga analysis. Check out the last two chapters Here and Here.

As stated before this is not a page by page review, more of a comparison of this and the original source material. Thanks to every one who has liked and/or reblogged the last two parts.

So Chapter 3 opens with Yang and Blake having already established their pair and fighting Grimm.

I really like this shot in the first panel, it’s very indicative of Yang’s character early in the series. Girl is battle hungry with a devil may care attitude. She’s happy as long as she can have a good fight. Blake’s comment is also good, as is Yang’s response. Sets up the dynamic well enough.

As Pyrrha explains the concept of Aura to Jaune (in some very well illustrated scenes that give Aura a much more spiritual lean than established), we finally come across the problem with the manga that I have been eluding to in the last two parts: the fight scenes.

Now I know that this has always been a thing in manga. It’s nigh impossible to give a complete flow of fight scenes in the medium (unless you’re say, Akira Toriyama or someone of that caliber). Normally this isn’t a problem since pretty much most, if not all, action-oriented anime start as manga; so really when they get adapted into anime it just enhances the material and makes the fights more memorable.

Black Clover is a perfect example of this. I’ve been told by numerous people that the series is best consumed if you read the manga for the story, but watch the anime for the fight scenes.

That’s a good way to approach it, but RWBY is a completely different animal compared to most franchises in the genre (I don’t really consider RWBY anime, but its kind of marketed as such and has a following in Japan so yeah). Not only are they flattening what was originally a computer generated series onto a 2D surface, they are actively condensing what was (at one time) the series’ main draw, the aforementioned fight scenes.

Might get a little controversial here so bear with me. It is no secret that the late Monty Oum was a savant when it came to using Poser. The things he could do with the platform were amazing (as series like Dead Fantasy, Haloid, Red vs. Blue, and even the first trailers of RWBY showed).

However, Monty, for all his mastery at fight choreography, was never the greatest story teller. I believe he admitted to that before. As much shit as people give Miles and Kerry about the current writing of the show (including me on several occasions), they were there from the beginning. it was always a three man team. Miles, Kerry, and Monty all wrote the show together.

Even diehard RWBY fans will tell you that the writing in those first two and a half volumes was never really that strong.

Plot points would be picked up then unceremoniously dropped, characters were inconsistent in both their personalities and motivations (Blake was a huge victim of this), and the overall narrative wasn’t really all that engaging.

However, many people forgave these glaring flaws because of Monty’s fight scenes. Before I got into the series, a common criticism I heard of RWBY was “The story isn’t all that great, but the fight scenes are amazing.” And that’s true. In the first two and a half volumes of RWBY (before Monty passed) a lot of the ��story” was really just padding until we got to the next fight scene. This worked well when the episodes were 6-15 minutes long because a majority of the run time could be used for those glorious battles that kept people coming back. Including me.

Two of my favorite fights are still Neo v. Yang from Volume 2 and Blake and Sun v. Torchwick from Volume 1

Though as the series grew in popularity, it could no longer solely rely on the fights to keep things going (especially after the noticeable dip in quality that occurred shortly after Monty passed) it needed to focus more on its story.

I say all that to say: the RWBY manga’s more stilted fight scenes are not only its biggest weakness, but also its greatest strength. Without the crutch of cool fights to fall back on, Bunta Kinami is forced to focus the manga around how the characters act instead of how well they fight.

This shift in focus is once again highlighted when we catch up with Weiss and Ruby:

Even though they decided to become a pair last chapter, they are still at odds. Which makes perfect sense. They are together because of necessity (the need to pass the trial and stay alive), not because they want to be. This is present in the show, but the manga makes a stronger case for it because of how they are written as opposites. Ruby is trying, but Weiss is fighting her every step of the way because of her arc to be perfect (as told in Part 2 of the analysis). Neither like the situation, but only one of them (Ruby) is willing to try and make it work. It’s a constant push and pull.

Blake and Yang reach the shrine, and this is where we first meet Ren and Nora.

Not really much to say here. Ren and Nora are side characters so its fine that we don’t meet them until later, also having their first scene be the one where Nora rides in on the Ursa gives us a better look at her character, as well as her relationship with Ren.

Ruby and Weiss hitch a ride on the Nevermore like in the original and crash into Pyrrha and Jaune as they are attacked by the Death Stalker. Only real change here is that Jaune doesn’t catch Weiss and Pyrrha is with them all instead of just being knocked to the ground.

With everyone in one place, we finally come to the climax of the initiation, the fights with the Death Stalker and Nevermore.

I want to give a shout out to Kinami for his Grimm designs. They look much more menacing here with the added details. Makes them look more undead than before.

The end of the chapter is a bit more brisk than the show, but it fits for this story. Ruby tries to attack the Death Stalker, and it goes about as well as you’d expect.

In a reversal of the previous chapter, Weiss saves Ruby.

This was the same as the source material, but in the manga I believe it works better because the character writing is much more consistent, which leads to a more badass save and moment for Weiss.

The moment is earned here as opposed to the show where it kind of just happens apropos of nothing. It shows that Weiss is also starting to grow in her own way parallel to Ruby, but not quite the same. It’s a compromise, not an acceptance.

So that’s it for chapter 3. Things are continuing to escalate and the next two chapters deal with the fight with the Grimm. See you then.

#RWBY #manga #Shonen Jump #bunta kinami #Ruby Rose #Weiss Schnee #yang xiao long #Blake Belladonna #Pyrrha Nikos #Jaune Arc #Lie Ren #nora valkyrie #JNPR #Monty Oum

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