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mountainsandmayhem · 4 months ago

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BDSMaid - Chapter 3

Pairing: Millionaire!Joel Miller x Female!Reader

Rating: E, 18+, Minors dni

Series Summary: After recently graduating from university, your best friend offers you a job cleaning luxury homes for clients you’ll never know. It’s only temporary and a good way to save money for when you go back to get your law degree. That’s what you’re promised at least. Easy. Simple. Mundane. That is, until one of your clients is home and everything that you felt was missing in your life starts to fall into place. This goes against the NDA you signed and you could get fired. Or worse, you could fall in love.

Chapter Summary: You decide it's time to put yourself on Joel's radar.

CW: Age gap (Joel 45, Reader 22), dual POV. Specific warnings in small red below the cut, do not read to avoid spoilers.

WC: 10k. Sorry, grab a snack!

AN: I'm continuously surprised by the love, excitement and joy that this story brings anyone but me. That probably doesn't even make sense, I'm just lost for words, tbh. Forehead kisses to @mermaidgirl30, @littlevenicebitch69, @joelmillerisapunk, and @milla-frenchy for screaming with me or pre reading this for me. @lotusbxtch gets a forehead kiss and a tip of the nose kiss for deep dive beta reading this, she's solely responsible for every semi colon.

Series Masterlist || My Masterist

I no longer have a tag list, please follow @mountainsandmayhem-updates to be alerted for future chapters.

Content Warnings: Flirty, alcohol consumption, mentions of sexual acts, kissing, mutual pining, reader being pinned against a wall, sexual tension, touching. Reader does have some description so may be considered more of an OFC.

The week after Joel removed you from his club goes by in a well-scheduled blur. You work your usual three days, cleaning mansions of people who don’t tip as well as Mister Miller. You pour yourself over LSAT study guides, practicing insane logic questions. You enjoy a coffee date with Jamie who asks you what happened the night at the poker game. You tell her a practiced lie that feels like acid on your tongue as it leaves your lips. You hate lying to your friends, especially her. You can feel that lie sitting heavily on the top of your stomach the entire time you’re with her, but you simply cannot afford to get fired with three years of law school on the horizon. You spend an evening with your roommate, Odette, watching Netflix and eating dumplings from her favourite spot, the only spot in Austin that has those little white paper boxes with the red writing.

If you decide not to lie to yourself, on top of everyone else, you also spend at least an hour a day watching videos of women tied up and dominated, thinking of Joel goddamn Miller the entire time. Since learning his full name, and the name of his club, the Google searches you swore you’d stop doing have been much more productive. You’ve found multiple blogs and Reddit posts, not just about kink, but also about Joel. It turns out that he’s well-known in the kink and BDSM communities around the world, but is essentially changing the face of kink in Austin.

One night, you get lost in a Reddit wormhole of women in Texas, and one in Paris, who have been a submissive for a man that sounds a lot like Joel. They don’t actually mention him by name but there’s advice on what he likes and doesn’t like, and how he never actually has sex with any of his submissives. It also sounds like some of these women pay him to be their dom, and, based on the conversations in the comments of one thread, it seems like he has a few submissives at the moment, and majority of their interactions happen at the club.

The club. Fuck, Jamie wasn’t kidding when she said JMK was exclusive. Anyone can join, assuming you can pay the yearly membership fees that, according to Reddit, are around $80,000 per year. From the minimal, cryptic information you find, Joel Miller is the main owner and he has two business partners. One you assume is his brother that you served the other night, but the third you are unable to find any information about.

Since everything you find online is up to interpretation, it’s hard to say what is and isn’t true. According to one disgruntled poster, once you become a member at JMKink, there are a lot of rules to follow. Everyone has to get tested monthly; it’s highly recommended that women are on birth control; and even if you’re married to the guest you bring, men must wear condoms. You can’t just bring anyone in with you: every member and their guest has an app, and the only way to get that app is from a QR code and an assigned activation code. According to another poster, the app is full of waivers and consent forms. You can’t stop the shy smile that crosses your face when you remember how concerned Joel was with your consent the first time you met.

The Monday before your usual every-other-Tuesday shift at Joel’s, you find a blog post about becoming a submissive, and it’s like it was written just for you. The writer explains how she had a hard time shutting off her brain and how, by the end of the day, she was so exhausted from making decisions that all she wanted was someone to tell her what to do for once. This led to her and her husband exploring a sub/dom partnership. Now, she feels lighter and freer; they’ve both discovered new ways to get pleasure outside of the idea of sex that society feeds us. Being a submissive isn’t always about orgasms or pleasure; it’s helped her build confidence, and she’s found that as they progress, that little voice that tells her she isn't good enough has stopped being so loud.

After reading through the post a few times, you shut your rose gold laptop and stare at the wall behind your desk. You feel seen, heard even though you didn’t speak. At first, you found yourself feeling ashamed of getting off to these videos, like there was something wrong with you for being turned on by it, but it’s really that ability to let go of control that you crave, the feeling of someone else making the decisions for once. You want that, but more so, you think you need that, and badly.

As a firm believer of ‘everything happens for a reason,’ it all comes together for you. You aren’t even nervous as the thought consumes you. If Joel shows up at his house, tomorrow I’m going to ask him to teach me.

On Tuesday, you do as you always do, following Joel’s instructions to a tee while listening to a podcast. However, today you only wear one AirPod in hopes of hearing that familiar and comforting engine rev that signals him either coming or going. Every creak or pop of the house causes your heart to flutter, but it’s never him. Much to your chagrin, Joel doesn’t come home.

Inside the envelope is that expensive matte black paper again, ‘Thanks -JM’ neatly written along it.

Great, you think to yourself sarcastically, we are on initial terms again.

Twelve hundred dollars is tucked into the envelope this time, you roll your eyes after thumbing the crisp green bills. The first tip you ever got from him felt sincere, but after walking in on him, and everything since then, it’s feeling more and more like apology money. You shouldn’t complain; people would kill to make this kind of money, but everything would be so much easier if he’d just fucking talk to you.

Your fingers run along the thick, rich paper that he uses as company letterhead. You can’t explain it, but the paper feels like Joel. It’s rough and thick, yet has a vulnerability to it, like you could easily destroy it with just a pinch of your fingers and a flick of your wrist. Your mind flashes back to his club the other night. He was literally begging you to leave, you can still hear it, the pleading in his voice as he said, “I’m sorry. I just can’t have you here, this is on me”. Your fingers trail across the golden ink of his neat handwriting and then open the paper the rest of the way. At the very bottom of the page, in shiny black print similar to the JMK logo at the top, is a phone number. Your heart slams against your ribcage as your eyes scan across the numbers.

When you get home, you unfold the note on your kitchen counter and pace the three or four steps it takes to walk the length of your small kitchen, never taking your eyes off the paper, looking at it like it’s a live bomb or like it’s going to disappear if you let it out of your sight. This is it: you could call the office, make an appointment or something. You’d probably have to lie, but you just need to see him; you need to make a case for yourself. Your stomach lurches, throat tightening at the thought of being in the club with him again. You open the freezer and grab the bottle of tequila, taking a big swig right from the bottle. It’s a cold burn and you clench your eyes as you swallow it down. Your body shivers involuntarily.

You dial before you can talk yourself out of it and before you know it you have an appointment under a fake name to speak to Joel tomorrow afternoon before your study group meets. You take two more large gulps of tequila after hanging up the phone.

Fuck, this is really happening. You take another large sip of the frozen tequila for good measure, your nose scrunching up at the taste.

Joel’s office isn’t attached to the club, it’s in a smaller building across the street and that has seemed to tamp some of the nerves that are vibrating your very core. Still, you can stop from nervously smoothing the wrinkles that have formed on the short, flowing skirt of your white sundress as you sit on the red velvet couch across from Joel’s receptionist. She is a small woman with a chin length bob, she’s probably in her late fifties and you wonder if her kids or grandkids know that she works for the owner of a kink club, or maybe she’s part of the community too. You’ve done copious amounts of research; kink isn’t just for young people, and you suppose Joel isn’t exactly young either. For all you know, she very well could be a dominatrix in her spare time.

She says your fake name in a soothing tone as she stands and walks towards the tall black door, pulling it open effortlessly. “Go on in, sweetheart. Joel’s ready for you.”

You smile at her sweetly, tucking your hair behind your ear nervously as you walk over the threshold to try to convince the millionaire whose home you clean to dominate you. The air in his large, bright office feels heavy and thick. Blood rushes through your ears as he looks up at you from his seat. He slips off his 1950’s style black horn rimmed glasses and places them on his desk. A muscle in his jaw ticks as he assesses you. Your heart lurches, knees trembling as you take a few nervous steps towards his desk. As his eyes meet yours you feel it again, that exposed and naked feeling that only his gaze seems to be able to cast. Maybe you shouldn’t have worn such a short dress, but it’s an unseasonably warm March day and even before leaving your apartment you were sweating in a mix of nervousness and excitement.

You see his lips move, but you can’t hear him over the pounding of your heart. You stop just past the door, then hear it click shut behind you. Joel’s silky lips move again and this time you hear your name followed by a calm, “What’re you doin’ here?”

The words come out before you even think about them, you practically yell them at him, “I want you to teach me.”

His hand waves to the chairs across his desk. When you don’t move he harshly says, “Sit.”

You rush across his expansive office, the plush carpet feels luxurious under your shoes. When you reach the black leather chair you sit on the very edge of the seat, your knee nervously bouncing up and down in time with your heart.

“You want me to do what?” He asks hesitantly, leaning forward in his chair. He looks absolutely beautiful in the late afternoon sun - orange hues reflecting off his tanned skin, the few greys along his temples glistening like the moon on the ocean. He’s in a black dress shirt again, his sleeves rolled to his elbows. You noticed today that he’s wearing a black watch and a gold ring on his right ring finger. Between his accessories and the veins that line his toned forearms your mouth goes dry.

“I - umm, I want you to teach me.”

The last word has barely passed your lips when he scoffs out, “No.”

Your face falls, “Joel, please. I’ve been doing research and I’ve decided that, well, that I want to be…that.”

He places his large palms on the desk, the square black diamond in his ring glittering in the sun, and pushes himself up. You crane your neck to look at him as he slips his hands into his pockets, his eyes already locked on yours. His intense eye contact wraps you up in a weighted blanket of safety and comfort, which is a dangerous and vulnerable place, a place that has the ability to rip you in half, much like you could do with that company letterhead he left you. He walks slowly to the other side of his desk. Once in front of you, he leans back onto it, keeping his hands in the pockets of his perfectly tailored black dress pants.

“You can’t even say it.” He challenges.

You furrow your brows, ready to confront him like you always seem to do. In the few interactions you’ve had with Joel, more often than not, it’s been him trying to tell you what to do, you fighting him over it, and then him ultimately winning. It’s infuriating, but not this time. No, this time you’re going to win. You have valid reasons to want this, and they’re all backed up by your research. You are leaving this office as his submissive.

“I can too!”

He shrugs his broad shoulders nonchalantly, “Say it then. You wanna learn how to do what, sweetheart?”

You sit up tall on the edge of the chair, crossing your arms under your breasts, praying your cheeks don’t flush as you finally admit it out loud. “I want to learn how to be a submissive.”

“No.” One of his meaty hands comes out of his pocket, waving you off as he says it again.

“Please!” You plead, “I want to learn how to be a sub.”

Joel actually squirms at the sound of you being so needy. He lets out a harsh ‘fuck’ under his breath and then whispers your name, “I can’t do this with you.”

Got him, you think to yourself, failing to fight the smirk as you lower your voice and sweetly beg, “Please, Mister Miller?”

Joel ‘Your-Consent-is-Most-Important’ Miller is not a small man: his broad shoulders take up almost an entire door frame and he’s easily nearing six foot four, but at the sound of you calling him the one name he’s asked you not to, he moves faster than your brain can comprehend. You gasp as he lunges towards you, his hands landing on the arms of the chair, his wide shoulders pushing you back as he cages you in. Your exposed back hits the back of the chair, your short skirt riding up your thighs slightly. He is practically on top of you and for a second you can imagine that this is what having sex with him would look like. His knuckles blanch from gripping the arms of the chair so tightly, his eyes are practically black, and that familiar flush he gets when you challenge him paints his neck and cheeks.

His voice is deeper, thick with arousal, rattling your bones as he speaks slowly, “I said not to call me that. You can’t even…You can’t.” He shuts his eyes and takes a slow breath in through his nose. His tone softens as he opens his eyes, “No, I ain’t doin’ this with you, sweet girl.”

You practically writhe in your chair. Sweet girl. He’s terrifying and commanding and so fucking beautiful like this. He obviously has a soft spot for when you beg, so you soften your eyes and stick out your velvety smooth bottom lip enticingly before whispering, “Please, Joel.”

He lets out a groan as he pushes himself off the chair and walks towards the large wall of windows behind his desk, his hands resting on his tapered waist. He avoids your gaze as you sit up, squeezing your thighs together tightly to calm the need at your core. “Lemme set ya up with someone else. My brother Tommy. You were gettin’ him a drink at that poker game.”

“I remember,” you mumble, looking down at your hands like you always do when your lack of confidence gets the best of you. You can’t let that self-doubt creep in now, not when you’re this close. You look back towards his broad back. “But I really don’t want anyone else.”

“Why?” He spins towards you, the lighting behind him gives him an almost ethereal glow. There’s absolutely no denying it, Joel Miller is the most gorgeous man you’ve ever seen.

You tuck your hands under your legs, simply stating, “I trust you.”

“You don’t even know me. I could be a horrible guy.”

You let out a sad laugh, shaking your head at him. He’s right, you don’t know him, but you have a feeling about him and you consider yourself pretty good at reading people. “You’ve never given me reason to think I couldn’t trust you. Even that first day. You were so calm and apologetic.”

Joel presses his lips in a thin line, eyes raking over you. You subconsciously slip your bottom lip between your teeth, and a muscle in his jaw flexes. “How old are you?”

“Twenty two,” you immediately regret lying; the avenue of trust is of utmost importance between a submissive and their dominant, so you quickly add, “Almost, I turn twenty two on Friday.”

“I can’t do this.” He croaks and you can’t help but feel a little bad. You’ve put him in an uncomfortable position and his voice sounds defeated.

“Please. I always felt I needed more but,” you stand up and take a few slow steps in his direction. “But…I didn’t know what more was and I - I think it’s this.” You audibly swallow pleading, “Please. I need you to help me. I want you to help me. Teach me.”

He holds his hands up and steps back as you inch closer. A silent call that signals you to stop or that he doesn’t trust himself, not here, not with you. “Jus’ let me set ya up with Tommy. You’re his type.”

Your heart sinks and an acidic taste lines your tongue. Of course. You aren’t that tall, slender icy blonde girl he had strapped to his desk. No, you have curves, and stretch marks along your hips, your boobs are a B cup on a good day. He can get whatever woman he wants, why would it be you? You look down at your hands, pushing back the nonexistent cuticle on your right thumb. This nervous habit of yours used to drive your mom crazy, ‘you’re going to have no skin left soon’ she’d lecture, but you can’t help it. The immediate result of the nail bed looking clean and perfect is like a dopamine hit. It leaves you with a feeling of accomplishment. The problem is, the initial confidence you had about this decision on Monday night has dwindled and you’ve been so anxious about this meeting that every single finger has a nicely pushed back cuticle.

It’s silent in the room for a while, you shut your eyes as you sheepishly ask, “Am I not attractive enough for you?”

“No!” He says insistently and without hesitation. His hand runs through his beard, a faint scratching sound fills the room drawing your eyes open and away from the skin of your thumb. As they land back on him you wonder what his patchy facial hair would feel like between your legs or along the soft skin of your stomach as he kissed you. His voice softens, “That’s not it. I just - I’m sorry. I jus’ can’t do this, sweetheart.”

You feel your chance to become the woman you want to be slipping through your fingers. Your plan is failing and for once in your life you don’t have a Plan B, this is the only plan that makes sense to you. Sadness creeps into your throat, “Why?”

“‘S not a good idea, sweet girl,” he answers, his soft brown sugar flecked eyes reaching out to yours.

His face and voice seem to be at war with his words. He’s saying no, but there’s a sadness in his eyes and a caring undertone to his voice. You’re not sure how you know it, but him calling you sweet girl means something to him. “Because I’m not your type?”

He shakes his head, that same curl falling into his eyes as it did in his foyer the other day. “That’s the problem, you’re exactly my type.”

Hearing that you’re this beautiful man's type should feel like you’ve won the lottery, but the way his shoulders slump as he says it only builds that lump in your throat. As you swallow the sadness down, his eyes travel to your neck, watching as the muscles flex and relax with the motion. “I - then why?”

He lets out a long breath and as he walks to the door he says, “I ain’t havin’ this conversation. I said no. And someone who is cut out to be a submissive would just take that answer for what it is.”

“You’ve made it clear that I’m not a submissive,” you counter and walk towards the door. He cracks the door open and you step in close to him, unconsciously taking in his leather and ash scent before adding, “Have a nice night, Mister Miller.”

Joel

The door feels like a feather behind his hand as he slams it shut - your body, warm and already vibrating, trapped between him and the solid piece of wood that separates the two of you from his receptionist. He made himself a promise in his rear view mirror the other week; he had to cut this off, create distance. He needed you to be just his house cleaner. Because everytime he looks into your eyes he feels the same way he felt at seventeen when he met Tiffany in that garage. Everything about you oozes sweetness and innocence, his sweetheart, his sweet girl. He didn’t think he was capable of feeling that way again. And he definitely should not feel this way for someone who is younger than his own daughter.

His large frame looms behind you, forcing your chest and forehead to rest against the door. He uses his foot to spread your legs wide. A breathy gasp passes your lips as your hands scramble for purchase against the wood grain of the door. He keeps pushing your legs apart, wide enough for your short white skirt to ride up your creamy thighs. Thighs he’s imagined wrapped tightly around his head as he makes you scream.

Joel takes a small step forward, caging you completely, making it so you’re completely at his mercy. He can smell the sweet scent of your arousal growing between your thighs; he knows if he reaches a calloused finger to the gusset of your panties they’d be soaked through. His cock is hard as steel, pressing against the zipper of his pants and the small of your back. You’re practically panting and he fights to keep his breathing steady when really he wants to mirror the quick, uneven pace of your breath. This is much more serious and intimate than when he had you trapped in the chair. This is dangerous. This could lead to more.

His strong fingers wrap around your dainty wrists. He loves the way you don’t fight him as he pulls them above your head, gathering both your wrists in one of his hands, pinning them to the door roughly. His free hand draws a slow line down your arm, then along the sensitive skin of your neck, and down your spine. Goosebumps break out over your skin and you instinctively arch your back into him, a desperate whine passes from your lips between laboured breaths, and that sound nearly buckles his knees.

His lips come to the shell of your ear, his beard tickling you as he speaks in a slow and commanding tone. “Do you feel what you do to me when you call me that. I’ve asked you not to. Multiple times.”

Your mint and lavender scented shampoo fills his nose as he nudges at you to tilt open your throat to him. He revels in how easily you oblige, cocking your head to the side like the good little girl he knows you are. He continues, lips just a hair away from your pulse point; he’s sure if he pressed his lips to it he’d feel how hard your heart is racing. “But I don’t want you to stop. In fact, I fucking love that you haven’t stopped.”

Your soft skin is warm against his rough fingers as they continue their trail down your body, running over the firm globe of one of your ass cheeks. He sucks his bottom lip between his teeth and bites down hard, distracting himself from the urge to spank you for calling him Mister Miller yet again. Finally, his fingers find a home on one of your thighs. He brushes lightly against your soft inner thighs, small little touches jumping from one leg to the other. The little involuntary twitches of your body and the needy little gasps of air you suck through your teeth has his cock straining painfully against his zipper. He’s aching for you in a way he hasn’t felt for years.

“You infuriate me with your insubordination and it makes me weak,” he mutters. “Makes me absolutely insane. I can’t stop fucking thinking about what’s underneath those clothes, and after seeing your perfect breasts and your little pink nipples… fuuuuck, baby. All I can think about is how good they’d look with my handprints tattooed on them after I slap them while you orgasm. Can’t stop thinking about how wet your little pussy must get. How tight she would be around my fingers as I claim her as mine. How fucking delicious she must taste. How goddamn sexy your cries of pain and pleasure would sound.”

Your whole body shudders against his. He knows exactly what he’s doing to you and he knows he needs to stop before he crosses a line, but the way your body responds to him is precisely how he likes it: pliant and ready. His mind reels with all the naughty things he’d like to do to you. If he reaches just a little bit higher he could finally know how you sound when you come, how silky your cunt is, how you taste. He runs the tip of his hooked nose down your neck, the light citrus of your perfume replacing the scent of your shampoo.

“That what you wanna hear?” Joel continues. “How fucking weak you make me? How desperate? I can’t do this because once I start…I ain’t gonna be able to let you go. Ain’t gonna be able to stop. Never gonna be able to have any other little play thing. It’s just you, sweet girl, only you. If I start this, this is it for me.”

Joel releases your wrists with a growl and walks away, carding his fingers through his curls and looking out at the cityscape as the sun begins to dip behind the tall buildings. He doesn’t look back, he can’t look back or he’ll fucking crack. He’ll haul you over his shoulder and take you into his club. He’ll show you everything right now and he won’t stop. His eyes flutter closed as he takes controlled breaths to slow his heart rate, the unmistakable sound of his office door opening and closing behind him.

You

You yank the door open and walk as fast as your legs will take you, your mind swirling, every emotion trying to win for first place. You’re painfully turned on, you can feel how soaked your panties are. It’s just you, sweet girl, only you. It’s like it’s been carved into your brain. Only you. You jam at the elevator close button as your lungs scream for fresh air, and as you step out into the warm spring night you suck in breath for what feels like the first time since you made this appointment last night.

Your phone vibrates in the small purse you have across your body. He doesn’t have your number, you remind yourself as you reach for your phone. Jamie’s name across your slightly cracked screen. “Hey!”

“Are you ok?” her voice is thick with concern.

Your chest feels tight, “Ya, why?”

“You sound like you're out of breath.”

You laugh a little, “Oh. I was..” fuck, what was I doing. “I mean I am walking. Like on a walk.”

Even a toddler wouldn’t be convinced by your lie, and Jamie isn’t either as she gasps loudly on the other end before whispering, “Were you having sex?”

“No! God no!” Your clit twitches at the thought of how close Joel was today. “I’m on the street, can’t you hear the cars.”

“Ok. You do need some sex though,” she laughs.

“Jamie,” you sigh, “I have to get to a study group. What’s up?”

She giggles devilishly. “Wellll - It’s your birthday weekend. I want to throw you a party at this really amazing club on Friday.”

“Umm, ya. Sure. Nothing too crazy though, right?”

“Promise you can keep your top on this time, prude.” She says teasingly and you laugh. “It’s called Mystique. The owner is an old family friend and she gave us a sweet VIP booth and bottle service, all completely free!”

You slide your key into the door of your SUV to unlock it, “Ok. Let’s do it.”

“Good, because I already invited the girls.” You sigh and your phone buzzes in your ear as Jamie’s computer dings on the other end. “Oh, weird. Your regular every other Tuesday clean just requested for you to go on Friday. Weren’t you just there yesterday?”

Joel. You say dreamily in your mind.

“That’s shitty,” Jamie continues, “That’s your birthday. The shift is only 4 hours, but I can offer it to someone else if you want.”

“No!” It comes out too eager and you remind yourself to chill the fuck out as you put her on speaker phone and open the app. “I mean, no, that’s ok. I need the money and my calendar shows 11 to 3, lots of time to get ready!”

“Text me when you’re done with your study group and we’ll hammer out the details for Friday night. We didn’t get to celebrate you turning twenty one with your insane schedule -”

“Hey!” You exclaim, pretending to be hurt.

“Ya ya, I know,” her voice an amused sarcasm as she continues, “The master plan to graduate early. Which you did. So can we please make this the best celebration yet?” Even without being able to see your best friend you know she’s dancing excitedly on the balls of her feet while giving big green doe eyes.

Friday rolls around quickly, and you aren’t sure what you’re looking forward to more; a much needed night out with your girlfriends or the possibility of Joel being home today. You’ve tried not to think about how his body felt against yours, but every few hours you found yourself with your hand between your legs, rubbing tight little circles on your clit until you came to thoughts of him, whispering Mister Miller like a church prayer.

Pulling up to his house today feels strange. He requested an extra clean this week just minutes after you asked him to teach you how to sub and after finding out that your birthday was today. You haul your stuff into his house, letting out a frustrated sigh when you find it quiet and empty. You click open your app and he’s asking you to dust and vacuum the basement, as well as wipe out the fridge. You look down at the app confused. He’s never asked you to clean the basement, and the fridge? He doesn’t cook. The eleven thousand dollar fridge is basically just a decoration to fill a gap in the countertops.

You pop in your airpods and head downstairs. The cozy white carpet of the stairs feels like plush clouds under your Keds. As you round the corner of the stairs you see everything that makes someone's house a home. So this is where he keeps it all, you think to yourself.

The short hallway from the stairs to the large open concept basement is covered in photos of Joel at all stages of his life. The first picture that catches your eye is a teenage baby faced Joel and a beautiful young woman sitting on a hospital bed, she’s smiling at the camera as Joel looks down at the tiny bundle of pink blankets in her arms. He looks so happy and soft, and it ignites a small flame of jealousy. Not at the woman, but at the happy little family.

As your eyes scan all the pictures you see that baby at all ages. There’s a picture of her holding a trophy as big as her with little cleats and shin guards on. In another, she and Joel are holding a big fish, her toothless smile bright and brilliant, while something in Joel’s eyes looks sad even though his plush lips are curved up in a sexy smile.

Another picture is of the little girl sitting on her mom’s lap; the woman doesn’t seem as vibrant in this picture. The next one to catch your eye is her holding a cupcake with a candle in the shape of the number sixteen, then him in a pressed black suit and her in her high school cap and gown. The last picture is similar, except it’s a college graduation photo.

As you peel yourself away from all the pictures you haven’t managed to look at yet, you face the main living area, a large open concept space. There’s a cozy grey sectional facing the big screen TV, shelves of DVDs surround it and you can only imagine all the movie nights the two of them had down here. There's a pool table along the far back right side of the room and to the left are a bunch of guitars, both acoustic and electric, hanging on the wall. You walk towards the guitars, there’s a stool and a small table beside the amp. An open notebook with lyrics lays on the table and as tempting as it is to read it, you look away. This space is who Joel is and he’s obviously trusting or testing you by sending you down here. He did tell you that you didn’t know him, and that he could be a bad guy, but everything here screams wholesome family man.

You dust and vacuum, then fluff the couch cushions and fold the blankets nicely. There’s an empty glass on the side table, so you grab that and wash it at the small wet bar before placing it with the other glasses. You take one last longing look at the notebook, it’s tempting but decide you are right to not read it. It’s none of your business what he writes and sings about. You picture him there, dressed casually in sweat pants and t-shirt, his large fingers plucking with a practiced finesse at the strings, you wrapped in a blanket, sitting on the floor with a cup of coffee and a book. The two of you being independently together on a Sunday morning.

Thoughts of the two of you like that are dangerous; being his submissive isn’t being his girlfriend. You’ve been very good at compartmentalizing, mostly as a coping mechanism to your past, so you find a metaphorical little box in the back of your mind to stuff all those feelings and thoughts into. As you gather your cleaning supplies, you take one last look around. maybe this was his way of showing you that you can’t have a future with him, that he’s done with the kids-and-marriage part of his life. None of that matters to you; you don’t want kids and marriage, you just want a partnership, and the support and comfort that comes with it. You want to become a lawyer, and eventually a judge, and one day sit on the supreme court and defend everyone's civil and human rights. That’s the goal, the only goal.

From this point on, any feelings for Joel Miller go in that box. If he ever changes his mind, he is my dominant and nothing else. You push the lid on the feelings box and run through your life plan as you head up the stairs. Law school and lawyer, then a relationship before judge and supreme court. That’s the plan, it’s always been the plan.

Once you’re in the kitchen, you pop open the fridge to see a single red rose. You lose a fighting battle with your face, smiling huge from ear to ear. You grab it and close the now empty fridge, bringing the rose to your nose to breathe in the sweet and powdery scent. The black and red envelope sits on the shiny marble countertop. You place the rose down and pop open the envelope. You pull out fifteen hundred dollars and a black business card. Your brows knit together as you inspect the card, flipping it over. A QR code for the JMK app, an activation code, and a note that says “Happy Birthday, sweetheart.”

You practically rip your phone from your back pocket and scan the QR code. You dance nervously on the balls of your feet as the app downloads. With shaky fingers you create a username and password, then type in the activation code. A bunch of permissions pop up, and while the baby lawyer inside of you screams that you need to read them, you’re too eager, so you hastily click accept on all of them. A profile with your newly appointed username splays across the screen. Right below your name it says “Beginner Submissive” and you roll your eyes. You upload the hottest selfie you can find of yourself to be your profile picture, smirking at what you imagine Joel’s reaction will be when he sees you in that tight fitting gold dress, a picture Jamie took of you on New Year’s Eve.

On the top right of your screen are 3 little lines, you open the menu and have two options. ‘Assigned Dominant’ and ‘Limits and Waivers’. You are eager to fill out whatever Joel wants on this app, but none of this will feel real to you until you see his name as your Dom. You giggle as you click the first menu. Holy shit, you think as the new window loads, this is going to happen, he’s going to do it.

Your heart freezes in your chest, and every ounce of excitement and happiness drains from you as you read ‘Assigned Dominant: Tommy Miller’.

When you get home, you open your JMK app again, looking at the assigned dominant screen in hopes you made a mistake. But there it is, clear as day, ‘Tommy Miller’. You lock your phone in frustration and toss it onto your unmade bed. Why would he do this? You’re sure that everything in the limits and waivers menu would have been a yes if Joel was your dom. But Tommy? Not that there’s anything physically wrong with Tommy. He’s definitely attractive, but he’s not Joel and you thought you made that perfectly clear.

After you shower you've decided you’ve cooled off enough to continue in the app. Tommy is still not Joel, but you want this for yourself, right? And it’s not about pleasure or attraction, it’s about the escape, and more importantly, it’s about having someone to push you and help you grow.

You click the ‘Limits and Waivers’ menu, a whole quiz comes up where you can rate your interest in different sexual and non sexual acts on a scale of one to five, and secondary checkmark if you’ve already done those things. You scroll through the list, this would be easy with Joel, all fives, all ‘highly interested’, or so you think. As you scroll through the list you get some real fetish level stuff - diapers, feet, scat play, being hung from hooks. You know enough not to kink shame anyone, but none of that interests you. As such, you rank them as a one, not at all interested.

You scroll back up to fill in all the stuff you’re more interested in.

Spanking, five.

Whips and Crops, five.

Paddles, five.

Nipple Clamps, five, fucking five hundred at this point.

Bondage, another five hundred. Vibrators, five.

Butt Plug, three - ya, that one surprised even yourself, but it’s Tommy, not Joel.

The little box to click if you’ve done those things remains unchecked. You aren’t a virgin, but the small handful of college boys you’ve entertained had the same two or three moves, all of which left you unsatisfied.

Odette bangs on your door, and you jump as your phone goes flying from your hand as she barges in. “Let’s get ready! Repeat twenty one, baby!”

You scramble off your bed to grab your phone before she does, one of your hands in a death grip on your towel, “Fuck, you scared the shit outta me.”

“Oh god, you were watching porn again weren’t you?” She laughs as your cheeks flush crimson. She wanders to your closet and opens the doors, “We gotta find you something real hot for tonight, you need to get laid.”

“Yeah yeah yeah,” you sing nonchalantly, wandering to your vanity to run a brush through your wet hair.

A few hours later and you’re all ready to go. Jamie and Laren came over to pre-drink and do their hair and make up. The four of you blasted nineties Shania Twain while drinking rosé and doing shots of cheap tequila. You pick a floor length black dress with a slit that goes almost to your hip and drips low between your breasts and leaves your back bare. You leave your hair down, curling it loosely before applying minimal makeup, flirty false lashes and a vibrant matte red lipstick. The packaging says that it's guaranteed not to smudge for up to twelve hours.

“We’ll test that tonight on drinks and men,” Laren says as she steals it from your hand and puts it on her full, pouty lips.

Jamie surprises you with a limo. Before getting in you swipe your JMK app open and save your half-finished preferences. Tonight is not about Joel or Tommy; tonight is about you, and you deserve to be celebrated.

The table Jamie managed to secure for your birthday is perfect. You’re just off the dance floor, but raised up so that you can see the entire club. The music is loud and the room is dark, dimly lit with light pinks and purples. As you settle into the booth a young icy haired blonde girl in small black shorts and a lacy bra wanders in. “Hey babes! I’m Jade, let’s get these bottles going! Here’s the menu.”

Her eyes fall to you as she hands the bottle service menu and you both freeze. It’s her, the girl from Joel’s desk. The thump of the music fades and all you can hear is her moans and cries, the squelching of her pussy as Joel finger fucked her hard and deep. Shit, fuck, why me. She smiles at you, “Oh hey! Good to see you again.”

A chorus of, ‘again?’ and ‘how do you know each other?’ comes from your friends, all of their wide eyes staring at you.

“We don’t really,” you rush. “Just a mutual acquaintance really.”

Luckily, she gets the hint and just nods along. “What are we getting to drink ladies? I’ve heard it’s on the house so pick something expensive!”

You pick a bottle of Clase Azul tequila, Jade saying she can make different cocktails with it so you’re not all just doing shots. After a few rounds you find yourself alone in the booth while your friends go to the bathroom. Jade sits on the black leather seat beside you.

“Look, I just want to say that I’m sorry for what you saw the other week. Joel sort of forbade me from seeking you out, but if you’re in my section at the club I work at then I’m not really breaking any rules.” She’s even more beautiful up close, no fucking wonder Joel wants to give you to Tommy. It’s just you, sweet girl, only you. But you see it now, why he’d pass you along. You can’t compete with a woman like her, and from the sounds of it Joel has more than one gorgeous, tall, slender blonde at his beck and call.

“No, it’s ok. I’m actually learning to be a sub soon.” You smile at her, trying to tamp down the jealousy that’s threatening to choke you.

“No way! Joel is amazing, I only see him like once a month now but you’re going to love it.” Suddenly your entire body feels like an open wound, and the lime and salt left on your hands from tequila shots burns through you. The back of your eyes burn, frustration and jealousy don’t mix well with Rosé and tequila. You blink a few times to stop the tears.

“He actually set me up with Tommy,” you croak, “Said I’m more his type.”

Just as she opens her perfect pink lips you hear the unmistakable opening to your all time favourite Shania Twain song, and as if your friends appeared from thin air the four of you yell, “Let’s go girls!”. The icy blonde pats the top of the table in your booth with one hand and holds her other hand out for yours. You climb up onto the table, your friends getting on the chairs.

Every insecurity dissipates from your body as you sing loudly with your friends, swaying your hips to the music. You surrender yourself to the genius that was Shania Twain and Mutt Lange. As you break into the chorus for a second time, a glint of silver across the club catches your eye. Standing on the other side of the dancefloor, leaning against the bar top, is Joel Miller.

His eyes are locked on yours; he’s wearing brown dress pants and a white short sleeved button up shirt, the top few buttons are left undone and it pulls at his biceps perfectly. He looks so sexy and casual, hair pushed back as he swirls the amber coloured whiskey around in its glass. He smiles devilishly, shaking his head jovially at you as you put on a show for him. As the song ends he crooks his pointer and middle fingers at you, silently calling you over. The simple motion of his fingers makes your pussy flutter, wetness slicking your thighs since you decided to forgo underwear tonight. Risky choice with the high slit of the skirt but suddenly it’s feeling like it’s the best decision you’ve ever made.

“I’ll be right back,” you whisper to your girlfriends as they help you off the table. They call for more shots and you refrain from all out sprinting to Joel.

“Quite the show you put on up there,” he says, grabbing your bicep like he did at the poker game and pulling you gently along with him.

“You didn’t seem to mind.” You twist your arm out of his grasp and stumble. You’re definitely well on your way to being drunk, but you don’t want him to know that.

He grabs for your waist to steady you. “Careful, you’re drunk.”

“I’m not. And even if I was, I’m celebrating, so I’m allowed to be drunk. Not allowed to be your sub, but allowed to be drunk.” His eyes darken and you know you’ve crossed some sort of undrawn line, but you’re at that reckless sass point in your tipsiness and you really don’t care. A saccharine sweet smile crosses your face as you plant your hands on your hips.

“You sure you wanna play this game, sweetheart?” He practically growls.

“I’m not your sweetheart, I’m Tommy’s,” it comes out poutier than you expect. You spin on the balls of your feet and head back to the dance floor. As always, you can feel his eyes on you as you walk away. When you approach the dance floor you see a handsome man about your age looking at you. A quick glance over your shoulder confirms Joel is watching, you grab the hand of the stranger and say, “Let’s dance.”

As all young, drunk boys do, he obliges. You spin and press your back in this body, grinding your ass into him and keeping your eyes locked on Joel. How did he find you here? Why would he be out at this particular club, unless of course he’s keeping an eye on the icy blonde woman. She confirmed they only see each other once a month though, so why? Is he following you somehow?

The boy's hands move to your hips, traveling up your abdomen. You wink at Joel, pulling your hair to the side and tilting your head so the boy behind you has access to the same spot on your neck that he had in his office. Just as his lips start to lower Joel snaps. Got him, you think. He takes a few long strides onto the dance floor, pulling you away like you’re some sort of toy, like he’s a caveman coming to take what’s his. You let him pull you, yelling an apology to the boy on the dance floor.

Even though you’re happy to go with him, you can’t let him know that. “Joel, stop it. You can’t kick me out of here too.”

He takes you down a quiet, dark hallway, barely illuminated by the red glow of the EXIT sign. “I own half this place, baby. So I can.”

You twist your arm free from his grip, “You’re the bane of my existence, Joel Miller.”

“Why haven’t you filled out your app yet?”

You scoff, anger and annoyance starting to replace the happy feeling you had when he pulled you from the dance floor. “Are you stalking me?”

“Don’t flatter yourself. Doms can see where their subs are at all times if they accept the location tracker on the app.”

Shit, all those menus that you just clicked ‘Accept All’ to at the beginning. Of course your dom would be able to find you, depending on the relationship they can control everything you do. “You’re not my dom!” You state.

Joel rolls his eyes. “I know. Tommy told me you hadn’t filled it all out yet and where you were. So, why haven’t you filled out the app?”

You lean back on the railing along the wall and slide your feet from your heels, placing them on the cool tile of the floor to soothe the ache in your arches. Your hands come back to grip the railing. “It’s none of your business.”

“Sweet girl, in this case it literally is my business. The JM stands for Joel Miller.”

This time you roll your eyes and then mumble, “Because I don’t want Tommy. I don’t think I’m going to fill it out anymore.”

Joel leans back against the railing across the small hall from you, pinching the bridge of his noise in annoyance, “Please. For me, can you just fill it out?”

“For you? You made it clear you don't want me. I’m filling it out for Tommy.”

He crosses his arms, biceps bulging even more against the tight fabric of his short sleeved button up, if he’s not careful he’s going to go full incredible hulk on that shirt. Not that you’d mind.

“That’s not what I’m sayin’ and that’s also where you’re wrong. You’re fillin’ that out for you. If you’re fillin’ it out for anyone else, then you’re doing this for the wrong reasons.”

You let out an unimpressed sounding huff, “I’m not.”

His lips press into a tight line as he considers his words carefully; Joel is old enough to know not to argue with a twenty-one year old who’s had tequila. “Ok, you’re not. So then why do you want to be a sub?”

He watches as your whole body seems to deflate, there’s a shift, almost like desperation in your body. Sadness lines your eyes as they meet his and your voice comes out small and uncertain. “Because I’m exhausted, Joel. I - I spend all day making decisions, and studying, and learning about civil rights law. I’m always having to come up with a plan A, and B, all the way to plan Z sometimes. And then,” your head falls back to the wall as you continue speaking to the ceiling with your eyes closed, “Then I do it all over again the next day. I can’t shut it off, my brain. It just keeps going and going. It's so loud, so constant, so fucking overwhelming and there’s no escape.”

You fall silent and he steps forward, slipping his large hand behind your neck and bringing your gaze to his. You continue, fighting against the boulder that’s forming in your throat, “I don’t think I’m good enough. Or strong enough…Smart enough. I want to see for once that I am, want to see what I can overcome. For once,” you sigh heavily. “For once I just want someone to tell me how well I’m doing.”

Joel’s eyes fall to your lips, his voice a hoarse whisper, “Fill out the app.”

You take a deep breath. You feel lighter after finally getting to confessing all of that to him. That was your plan for his office the other day, but something about him flusters you and you were completely knocked off the rails by that special unknown thing Joel has over you. You whisper, “I don’t want to do this with Tommy. Please, Joel.”

Joel’s forehead comes to rest on yours, you can see the golden flecks in his dark eyes at this proximity. He smells like mint, and that same ash and leather from his office the other day. You should ask him right now why he let you in his basement today, but he speaks before you can. “Can you please, just for once, show me that you can listen?”

“Kiss me,” you hum, trailing your hands up his strong arms.

He stiffens under your touch. “What?” he asks dumbfoundedly.

“Kiss me and I’ll go home right now and fill out the app,” you whisper, inching your lips closer to his.

“You’ll go home, fill out the app, and you will not touch yourself.” It’s not a question, it’s a deep command.

Now it’s your turn to be confused as you say, “What?”

He crowds his body closer to yours, pulling his face back slightly so he can take you all in. You’ve never seen this expression before, that flash of darkness from the first time you called him Mister Miller in your car has permanently etched itself into your mind, but it’s almost like he’s transitioned into full dominant Mister Miller now. “If you want to convince me to be your dom, it’s not going to be through just a kiss. So prove to me that you can listen, prove to me that you can be a good girl. ”

The wetness between your legs starts to coat your thighs at the sound of him asking you to be a good girl. You clench your thighs together as his forehead meets yours again.

He continues, his voice just as commanding, “If I give you this kiss, you’ll go home alone, you will not touch that dripping little cunt, and you will fill out the app.”

Your pussy is throbbing with need. You should have known better than to sass him so hard tonight. Someone as competent and experienced as Joel would know exactly how to punish his sub when they were acting up. You nod your head and hum in agreement to his demands.

“Ask me nicely.” He murmurs.

“P-please…kiss me, Joel.” Butterflies assault the inside of your stomach.

You didn’t think it was possible, but he manages to crowd you even more, your entire body pressed firmly against his. Every skin cell is screaming for his attention, every nerve firing off signals making you hyper aware of anywhere he’s touching you.

“Ask me again using that name I told you not to call me,” He knows he’s playing with fire, but at this exact moment he doesn’t care, he fucking loves the way his preferred dom name sounds coming off your lips.

“Kiss me, Mister Miller. Please?” It’s airy and desperate, your knees feel weak below you and it feels as if you can’t get a full breath in. The anticipation is killing you.

“Why?” he growls. Growing up you were always afraid of dark spaces, but if there were any monsters in this hallway they’d be running scared at the timbre of his voice right now.

Your back arches instinctively into him. You’re safe here, Joel Miller is your safety. “Because I need you, Mister Miller. Please. Just one kiss…then I’ll do anything. I promise. P-please. I need to feel you on me, Mister Miller.”

Joel bends slightly, his hands come to the back of your thighs and he lifts you, slamming you against the wall. You squeal, arms flinging around his neck as your ankles hook around his waist. He pins you to the wall with his hips and lets go of your thighs. Both of you are practically panting, his cock is hard as steel, pressing against his zipper and your bare pussy. Your skirt is covering you from exposing yourself to him but something about the glint in his eye when your bodies connect makes you think he might know you don’t have any panties on.

His hands peel your arms from around his neck and he pins them with one hand above your head like he did in his office. You whimper and grind your hips against him. His free hand wraps around your throat, holding it gently.

“No,” he growls and it takes every ounce of self control you have to stop your hips. “Say it again.”

He watches your mouth hungrily as you lick your lips and you fight back a moan. He can feel your pulse firing rapidly under his calloused fingertips. A needy whisper passes your lips, filling the miniscule space left between your bodies. “I need you, Mister Miller. Please kiss me.”

With that he slams his lips against yours. It’s a desperate and heady mess of tongue and teeth, your moans being swallowed by his greedy mouth. You tilt your head to allow him in more. His tongue devours every inch that it can reach. He nips at your bottom lip before diving back in. He takes whatever he wants from you and you let him. For the first time in years your brain is quiet. No anxiety about the quickly approaching LSAT, no thinking of whatever practice question you’re stuck on. That nagging fear of being rejected from all the law schools you’ve applied to goes silent. The worrying voice that tells you you’re not good enough disappears. Everything you are is replaced by whatever Joel gives.

You grind down onto him as you flick your tongue against his; he’s so rough yet so very soft. His tongue tastes like mint and whiskey. You can feel your orgasm building, it’s going to happen embarrassingly fast at this rate. You feel light headed from lack of oxygen and the slight push of his fingers into the side of your throat. More, more, more, you yell in your head.

Joel breaks the kiss and puts you down on your feet, holding you steady as you find your legs again. His lips are puffy and even though it’s not the time to be thinking of this, you realize there isn’t a single drop of red lipstick on his face, so it really will last twelve hours without smudging.

His thumb comes to your face, swiping along your bottom lip gently, “Put your number in my phone, sweet girl.”

He holds his brand new iPhone Max out to you and you tap your number in with shaky fingers. He sends a quick text when you hand his phone back and then he kneels in front of you, helping you back into your heels. As he stands his hand trails from your ankle, all the way up the slit of your skirt to settle on your clothed hip. “Go get your stuff and go home now, baby. There’ll be a car waiting for you out front.”

He pats your bum gently as you walk on shaky legs back to your VIP booth. You feel like a newborn giraffe as you make your way to your table.

“Where have you been?” Jamie proclaims, holding up a tequila shot for you.

You wave her off, “I think I’ve had too much. I’m gonna go but I want you girls to stay. Enjoy your night for me.”

It takes a few minutes but you convince your friends to stay and that you’ll be fine and already have a ride arranged. As you exit the club there’s a gorgeous blacked out town car parked in front. An older gentleman in a suit looks at you and nods, “Good Evening, Miss. Are you the young lady Joel Miller has asked me to escort home?”

You nod back, trying to act like this is an everyday occurrence and not the most outrageous thing that’s ever happened to you. As soon as you get home you change into your most unflattering set of pajamas, hoping that if you feel unsexy then it’ll stop that insistent throb between your thighs. Joel was so fucking close again, and this time there was no underwear in his way.

You slide open the app, Tommy Miller is still set as your dom, but you go through the preferences carefully and answer as honestly as possible as to what you want. You try to focus on the questions even though you can still feel Joel's throbbing cock pushing against you, and his warm hands around your wrists and throat. You can still taste him on your lips. You shake the ghost of him off of you and remind yourself again what you want from this, aside from mind-blowing orgasms.

You fill out every section and then hit save. Just as you are about to lock your phone and try to fall asleep your phone vibrates, the JMK app as a notification.

‘Your Assigned Dominant has changed to Joel Miller’

Your heart pounds behind your rib cage as you stare at the notification, your head feels fuzzy, possibly from the booze, or that kiss, but you can’t believe your eyes. You close out of the app and go back in, staring at where Joel’s name has replaced Tommy’s. Just as it all starts to feel real you get a text message from a number you don’t have saved. You click on the message app.

“No coming until I say so, I know you weren’t wearing any panties tonight. Messy little pussy ruined my pants. Go to sleep now, my sweet girl.”

Next Chapter

989 notes · View notes

acheronist · 5 months ago

Note

........so what do u think peglar's childhood was like? 👀👂

WELLLLLLLLLL......

so his dad was a gunsmith in westminster & henry was the younger sibling of two (elizabeth was a few years older than him, and she also received henry's arrears from the franklin expedition after everyone was pronounced lost & dead. she was married at this time and was henry's immediate next of kin. so presumably their parents had died by this point...) but he and elizabeth got dunked in a 2-for-1 baptism like john torrington & his sister did tho which is so funny. pov you have one baby and underestimated how much work babies actually are, so you forget to get it baptized on time, and then by the second baby rolls around you've got a better grip on parenting, so you take both kids in on the same day. lmfao.

anyways back to the childhood tho. they lived like... a few blocks away from the river thames so he'd probably already had a fondness for water, i think, just based on my own childhood of having two older brothers and living near a semi-important river (lol)

but that made me wonder if like... he and elizabeth ever played army...? because i definitely was made by my brothers to play army and soldiers a fair amount. and if my dad was a gunsmith and i was an opinionated little freakboy who wanted to be a navy sailor when i was older, i'd definitely try and sneak into dad's work and play pretend a little bit. and i wonder if sarah peglar (mum) ever scolded him for not including elizabeth or vice versa when they was out playing with the neighborhood kids...

they lived in a pretty well-populated neighborhood and he attended the blewcoat school "for poor families" WHICH ALSO ALLOWED GIRLS TO ATTEND so maybe henry and elizabeth went there together. cmon get up we have to walk to school on timeeeee. i think he was probably a little bit dyslexic tho based on how his spelling was in 1845-47... i think the only formal education for reading and writing would have been at this blewcoat school in westminster , so i wonder if the writing backwards was a trick he pulled out to impress his classmates... don't notice how bad his spelling test grade was!! just look how cool and clever harry is!!! he can write a whole paragraph backwards!!!! whoaaah!!!! idk i just hope he had a gang of friends he was running about and causing silly lad antics with. i hope elizabeth followed them around and was begrudgingly included in the antics because they were supposed to be keeping an eye on each other during the afternoons or something. based on the amount of times he mentions keeping an eye on his friends on terror / mentions tom by name in the wallet papers i think it's not too hard to imagine henry was protective over people he loved.... i assume this extended to his sister, too. also like.. not that this was his childhood necessarily, but his dad's gunsmith shop was literally down the road from the big ben clocktower which would have been under construction (1843) during the same time he was ashore between ships (post hms wanderer & pre hms terror) so i wonder if he ever went home to visit the family and was like FUCCKKK SORRY I'M LATE FOR DINNER TRAFFIC SUCKED. CONSTRUCTION FOR THAT CLOCK IS SO ANNOYING. that would be very funny to me.

ok anyways back to childhood: john peglar (henry & elizabeth's dad) voted for francis burdett so there's at least some indication that their household was like... fine with being politically radical and heavily opinionated. (i would also point out that there's a fair amount in henry's wallet and diary that's just him having a gossip session by himself. opinionated indeed.) but also henry doesn't seem the type to really get into trouble tho... based on his career history he generally rolled his eyes kept his head down and did his job unless he was pushed hard enough, in which case he had no problem speaking out. in 1833 on the marquis camden, henry was lashed two dozen times for "drunkenness and mutinous conduct" but i've also read that the captain of the ship at the time was a Notorious Asshole Who Loved To Use Lashing As Punishment? so jumping to conclusions without real evidence, i think henry probably saw his fellow ABs getting treated badly by the captain, had 3 more beers than he should have, and said FUCK THIS GUYYYY!!!!!!! and then got punished for it. we're not going to think about the lashing scars opening back up again in the arctic btw. so anyways the point of all this is to say i think henry was probably fine with protesting when things suck, which he probably learned from his dad. maybe there were nights when john and sarah were talking politics and henry sat on the other side of the wall listening when he wasn't supposed to. maybe elizabeth would come sit with him and he'd have to shush her because neither of them were supposed to be listening because it was past their bedtimes but they sat and listened together anyways. scurried back into bed trying not to get caught even though john and sarah definitely knew they were there.

but also he was 13 when he entered the marine society ("a charitable organization for helping destitute boys and training seamen") so maybe he saw the navy as a chance to help out his lower-middle class family..... maybe they had a hard time and henry wanted to help out now that he was sort of almost grown up!!! and he clearly excelled thru this sailor training camp because after a month they tossed him onto hms solebay where he would have learned more hands-on stuff about working on a ship. knots and such. maybe this is where he realized how good he was with ropes... he could have been the best lad in his "class" when it came to knots etc. he also would have learned properly how to use a gun here, but again, his dad's a gunsmith. he probably would have had an experience advantage over most of the other boys w/ shooting and loading and managing a gun as a tool. so it's not surprising i think that he was in and out of 'training camp' really quickly. his first real ship was hms clio and he was a spare ship's boy and quickly got transferred to hms magnificent, WHICH WAS A HOSPITAL SHIPPPP and worked in the sickbay as a ship's boy and was earning a real paycheck. in my heart this was probably a very formative experience, and gave him a basic understanding of medicine/nursing? which i bet came in handy during the expedition when things were getting desperate and everyone was sick. i know amc had bridgens playing pinch-hitter nurse for terror camp but i wonder if in real life, maybe henry took up that role? maybe he even managed to keep his own illness under wraps for longer than most of the other expedition men Because he could recall things he learned on hms magnificent... idk.....

anyways at this point we start getting into henry's teen years. does this count as childhood? he saw two men get killed by lightning strike at age ~16 and he jumped around between ships pretty often and his conduct was generally either 1) bored and unremarkable or 2) normal and good :) and then he got lashed for being a petulant "mutinous" teenager who likes beer too much, as previously mentioned, and afterwards he just kind of hangs out until he's 22 and joins the gannett and meets 💞thomas armitage💞 and now i need to stop typing . lest i begin rpf-ing on main a little bit too much.

ok thanks ummm he's my most special guy unfortunately. henry my best friend henry :-(

#i should become unemployed again just to have time to write a biography about this guy #peglar #📜

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ponett · 11 months ago

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I see you cite Final Fantasy as one of SLARPG's inspirations, but I'm curious which FF games in specific you're referring to.

I would specifically cite:

FF1 - The GBA version was the first RPG i really sunk my teeth into as a kid, so this is basically my Rosetta Stone for What A Turn-Based RPG Is. Arriving in a new town and buying new gear and spells so you can go back out and fight monsters better. That sort of thing. As I explained in a Patreon post a while back, a certain character is also partially an homage to Bahamut's role in this first game

FF5 - The job system here very heavily influenced the direction I went in with the Spellbook system. Spellbooks were initially envisioned as premade "decks" with different combinations of spells, sort of like the premade chip folders you sometimes receive in Mega Man Battle Network, but playing FF5 inspired me to make all of the Spellbooks more thematically distinct and treat them as a subclass system

FF3 - On a completely different note, I can't stand how FF3 handles its job system, which also influenced Spellbooks. I hate how certain bosses all but require certain jobs, and if you don't have that job leveled up already then you just have to stop and grind. So I made it so that Spellbooks have all of their abilities unlocked by default with no need to level them up, and no point in the game explicitly requires the use of any one Spellbook. Your build is up to you

FF6 - Pretty foundational to my understanding of how to tell a story in a top-down 16-bit RPG, with the little sprites all running around and emoting for the audience sort of like it's a stage play, and the battle system often being used as a storytelling device. I'd also cite the relics (along with Paper Mario's badges) as the inspiration for SLARPG's Charms, and there's probably a little Kefka in Javis

FF7 - Again, this is just a foundational game to my understanding of JRPG storytelling. I might point to FF7 as the first RPG I played growing up that was focused on the dramatic arc of a single predetermined main character who already has relationships with most of the other main characters when the story begins, as opposed to either a silent protagonist, a customizable character, or a protagonist who isn't particularly supposed to stand out among the ensemble cast. (FF4 also did this with Cecil, but I haven't played as much of FF4.) A lot of things in FF7's story remain kind of the gold standard for me, like how the bombing mission is still one of the best intro sequences to any game ever, so I refer back to it a decent amount. You can definitely see some influence from Cloud's story in Melody. And Anthony and I also compared a certain set of optional bosses to the Ruby and Emerald Weapons when we were planning them out

FF9 - Maybe some broad aesthetic influence. I haven't played as much of 9 as you'd probably assume

FF14 - I had yet to make it all the way through ARR before SLARPG came out, but I'd tried making a White Mage multiple times, which led to Gridania being an early influence on what I wanted Greenridge to look like. I don't think the influence is that recognizable in the final product, but you can kiiiiiiiiiinda see it in some of the architecture if you squint

#springdayautumnmoon #ask #slarpg asks

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mercurygray · 10 months ago

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Blind Dates Fest 2024 - Freda Torvaldsen, ARCS

A few days ago I asked for MOTA prompts, and @junojelli delivered:

A MOTA scene prompt for you: a new arrival is amongst the clubmobile ladies at the local pub one evening. Of course, it would only be right that they give her the lowdown on the men they can see in the bar, and the recent gossip on possible nocturnal escapades of course 😏

So! An extra Blind Date! You can learn more about @blind-dates-fest at their blog.

Fandom: Masters of the Air

It was only a matter of time before the subject came up.

“Can’t say I’ve ever met a Freda before.”

It was always like this, her first day in a new assignment, where you been, where you from, what do you do. And then inevitably someone would work around to the obvious. So... what’s a name like Torvaldsen doing with a name like Freda?

“And neither had my mother,” Freda said with a resigned smile, sitting down heavily and nodding thankfully to one of the other girls for the beer. “After my father and brother were both Peters I think she just wanted something interesting.” She shrugged. “She told me once she found the name in a short story in a woman’s magazine. Never got confused with another girl in class, though! Fred’s just fine, for every day use. It’ll get tossed in eventually, so we may as well start there.”

Fred was easy - approachable, even. A good way to start a conversation, a quick, easy joke to set everyone on the same level. Who’s on shift today, girls? Rose, Laura, and Fred. Wait, Fred? And she’d stick her head out from wherever she was hiding, and the boys would all have a laugh that Fred was really a twenty-six year old blonde from Madison, Wisconsin with a big smile, and not the paunchy driver from Brooklyn they all pictured when they heard the name. She didn’t mind the jokes, really - it made the whole job easier. So what’s your name, solider? You have a nickname, too? Where you from? The whole reason she was there, in three questions or less - to make the average G.I. feel at home, seen, valued and wanted.

“Where’d you say you were, before this?” Helen asked. At least, she thought it was Helen - or was it Ellen? Honestly, Tatty had run through the team of three pretty quickly this morning and she might have misheard. Tatty, of course, was easy to remember - Katherine Spaatz, with a last name the papers wouldn’t soon forget and a face that liked being photographed. Mary Boyle was the other, a sparkling-eyed Irish girl from Des Moines who looked like just the kind the fellows all liked to spin around a dance more than once. She couldn’t remember the name of the girl she was replacing, either - not that that mattered much. She was going home with the one non-communicable disease the Red Cross didn’t want to deal with - pregnant, Mary had mouthed across the table when they’d first met this morning, her fresh off the bus from London and Tatty skating artfully around the subject.

“Did a spell at the canteen in Washington, another couple months in London in a few different spots,” Freda offered. “I guess I’m a professional replacement at this point - which is either a compliment or a curse. You’ll have to tell me which.”

“Well, we’re happy to have you, for as long as we’ve got,” Tatty said with a nod. “Did they tell you what the work would be like? Working a base is different than canteen service.”

“The hours, for a start,” Mary said, rolling her eyes.

“If they’re running a mission, they’re up and at ‘em at 4:30 for a 5 am briefing, which means -”

“Service ready for 4:45,” Freda filled in, nodding along. “Means we’ll be starting about...three thirty, maybe, to have everything hot and ready?”

“Will that be a problem?” Tatty asked, her eyes dark and decisive across the table.

Freda shook her head. “Always was more of a morning person. How long are they usually out for?”

“Longer runs...six, seven, eight hours at a time? Tower will give us a ring when they’re expected back in, and then we rack up donuts and coffee in the interrogation hut. You’ll need to be sharp on that shift,” Tatty warned. “They don’t always come back looking pretty.”

“Doctor’s usually on hand to evaluate anyone who can walk. If they’re still standing he’ll turn ‘em loose on the interrogation team,” Mary explained. “Captain Brennan and her girls run that room - she’s nice, you’ll like her.”

“You’re not there to make small talk for that one - pass out coffee and get ‘em to their table as quick as you can. Each crew runs through the whole mission - what they saw, who they shot at, bombs dropped. The after-action report. Once they’re done, they’re free to leave, and so are we. We’ll do dishes and clean-up, and then get the coffee urns ready to drive ‘round to the crews. Can you drive?”

“Well enough for Wisconsin,” Freda offered with a shrug. “We had a Ford I could grind through.” She didn’t say anything about the last time someone had asked her if she knew how to drive, and how she’d nearly run over the campus mascot trying to muscle a Clubmobile into a turn.

“Sounds like you’ll be driving our Jeep, then. We’ve got one assigned to us.”

Freda nodded, trying to maintain serenity. Well, that’s all right. A Jeep’s not a remodeled London bus, and it sure as hell doesn’t drive like one.

“The planes are parked out on hardstands and the crew basically live out there while they’re working,” Tatty went on, “So we take coffee and sandwiches around once the planes come back in. They’re good guys out there - better than the flyboys, sometimes.”

“Now, Tatty, don’t go turning her head the wrong way,” Mary interjected, before Freda could ask what a hardstand was. “They’re all nice. Just take some getting used to.”

“Anyone I’ll need to watch out for?” Freda asked, glancing around the club, which was gradually beginning to fill for the evening - officers in their Class As, the gilt on their wings like sunshine, laughter like a river. The knucklehead who knocked up your friend, for instance?

Tatty made a gesture across the room towards the biggest group. “The tall one horsing around with the dartboard is John Egan - Major Egan, rather. Or Bucky, if you want nicknames. He’s mostly harmless, but he’ll flirt with anything. Just give as good as you get and you’ll be fine. Man next to him is Major Gale Cleven - also Buck - who you’ll wish was single and isn’t.”

“He’s got a girl back home in Wyoming,” Helen (Ellen?) put in, her smile a little wistful. “Ask him about her sometime.”

“Man with the permanent frown is Major William Veal - Bill, sometimes. He’s all business, you’ll never see him dance, so don’t ask. Tall fellow next to him with the lighter curly hair is Major Jack Kidd, also mostly business.”

Freda’s eyebrows went up. “Mostly?” Now there’s a word with a story.

It was Tatty’s turn to smile. “We think he might be sweet on Mary, when he lets himself.”

Mary rolled her eyes. “Only because the rest of you gang up on him!”

“Those are the squadron commanders, anyway - the other pilots and navigators and crews report to them. It’s a lot of names,” Tatty said, almost dismissive.

Notice how she didn’t say I’d learn them, Freda thought to herself. They’d told her that much in London, when she’d gotten her assignment. Don’t get too attached to your post, or the soldiers there. They can change or leave at any time. It’s a war, not a weekend.

“Ladies! And how are we all on this fine evening, eh?” Here it was - faces up. Freda found her smile and turned to see who it was - a young man with black hair and blue eyes and a smile just this side of mischievous. And this one is named Trouble, I’ll bet. First lieutenant with flying wings - a pilot. “You all over here plottin’ somethin’ we fellas need to be made aware of?”

“Just introducing the new girl around, Curt.” Tatty gestured to Freda, on the other side of the table, who raised a hand and nodded hello.

Trouble (Curt?) smiled a little wider, his hand on Tatty’s shoulder, leaning closer over the table. “Oh, the new girl, eh? And does the new girl have a name?

“New girl answers to Fred,” Freda said with a patient smile, trying not to smile too hard at the patently obvious big-city, big-spender feeling rolling off of the lieutenant in waves. New Yorkers. You could run them off a press like that. It was funny, sometimes, how much they tried not to be types - but she’d known far too many men like him. That was the trouble with canteen service - you saw so many they all started to look the same. “And she’s not looking for another drink, before the lieutenant starts asking.”

“Tough customer!” He laughed at that. “Curtis Biddick, at your service, Fred. Now, if any one of these jokers starts anything or gets fresh, you come find me, alright?” He pointed, for emphasis, and she took note of the knuckles of his hand, the shortness of his nails. “Gotta take care of our girls, you know, since you’re always taking care of us.”

“I’ll certainly keep it in mind, Lieutenant.”

Biddick waved the rank away like it was a fly he were swatting. “Now, none of this lieutenant crap, Fred. My friends call me Curt.” He fixed his eye on her and she smiled, and nodded - heard and acknowledged. Confident they had an understanding, he clapped Tatty’s shoulder again and stood up. “Tatty. Mary. Helen. Fred. Yous all have a good night, now.”

“Well, there you are, Fred. If Biddick likes you you’re set. He was serious about finding him, too - he’s the company boxing champion.”

“Of course he is,” Freda said with a smile, finally able to place where she’d seen hands like that before. And a total sweetheart underneath all of it, if I read him right.

And a soldier, something in her head reminded her. That’s the trouble with working a base - they won’t just be here for a night. You’ll have learn their names, and their girlfriends, see them day in and day out - until one day you don’t.

She took a deep breath and a sip of her beer, still glancing around the room, at the laughing men at the dartboard, the craps game, the piano, everyone alive and free and full of life. Maybe it had been a bad idea to start with names.

---

Eagle-eyed readers will notice that I have name-dropped several new characters in here; one of them, Marion, is my other Blind Date this year. You'll meet her on Saturday!

#i have written a thing #blind dates fest 2024 #freda torvaldsen #1940s girl gang #also i feel it is incumbent upon me to tell you she and curtis are not a thing #don't get your hopes up #masters of the air OC

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saiyanwitcher · 3 months ago

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Holy crap, Prince of Death is such a tour de force! The attention to detail, the world-building, the intense drama, the raw emotions - it's all just stunning.

Admittedly, I know almost nothing about DBZ, and you've done a fantastic job weaving just enough background into the narrative for the uninitiated while making it your own for this universe at the same time. The blend of fantasy and sci-fi on display is so yummy and rich to devour.

And Max just needs the biggest hug, ugh. At least he's together with Charles... (for now?!) - tho, I can already picture the angst and drama ahead when Max wakes up - poor thing bears the weight of duty so heavily and personally (and honorably).

And Alonso - omg!! Love how he calls Max out for his shit, protects him, teaches him, just - everything about him in his role in this AU is gold.

Hopefully Carlos stops being a little punk - maybe once he realizes that Alonso has also sent his prince to the same destination that he set for Charles (which I'm dying to see where that it is, btw - with pop culture in my head, I can see anything from Dagobah to Hoth to Vormir to... even Mars lol - whatever you choose, I know it will be great), or once Carlos has an inevitable reconciliation and he sees just compatible Max & Charles truly are... such potential! ✨

I did have higher hopes for George, ugh. He should know better than to follow in his master's vile footsteps, but otherwise, he makes for a rich villain. And that's to say nothing of Jos - you've done an excellent job making him truly repulsive with his physical & emotional abuse in the name of controlling Max. And I absolutely cannot wait for him to get his just deserts - to be on the receiving end of Max letting the full force of his power loose, hair & eyes flaming as he unleashes raw fury - oh, please, please, let it be so! (Tho, no matter how Jos goes down, it will still be infinitely rewarding).

... okay, this got way longer than I thought, so my apologies 🤭 But in short, this fic is just outta-this-world stellar. Thank you so much for sharing and I look forward to reading more ❤🚀

Hello there!

I've really tried my hardest to explain things thoroughly and adapt the universe to make it my own, so I'm glad people aren't like . . . wtf are you talking about? 😅

Alonso is so amazing and fit this roll perfectly in my head, I'm glad it's translating on paper. While he's not Max's or Charles' real dad, he's the father they both deserve.

Carlos is in for some major transformation of character in part 2 as well as George. Those two need some growth and perspective, and they will be getting both (for better or worse) as the story goes on.

I'm so glad you mentioned the little sneak peak I gave for Max's potential in ch 12! I didn't get a lot of comments on it, but in his rage and grief, trying to protect himself, he tapped into something that he will need to find again later. Now, did he find it because it was about Charles? Or has he always had it and just couldn't break through 👀 Regardless, there will be more exploration in part 2.

Max is having the hardest time the poor baby! But you are right . . . when he wakes up 👀 He is so confused lol. In fact, enjoy a little piece:

A soft surface beneath him felt strangely comforting against his back, but the sight of the stars whizzing by outside the familiar red-tinted glass disoriented him.

The robotic feminine voice of the scouting pod continued to drone on in the background, its words barely registering as Max struggled to make sense of the situation.

“. . . initiating vapor bath reversal protocol. You are now one parsec away from your destination. . . ”

Limbs moving slowly, body trying to regain control, Max felt the seat surface behind him gently rise, before lowering again. His heart skipped a beat as he realized he was in the scouting pod meant for Charles to flee Jos’ base ship.

Stunned, Max whipped around to discover that the soft surface his back had been resting against was Charles’ chest, still moving gently with each slow breath.

Relief flooded through him when he spotted the Eldri resting behind him, still unconscious, but seemingly unharmed.

His relief was short-lived, when the memories of the launch deck came rushing back.

#prince of death #wip #max verstappen #charles leclerc #lestappen #anon ask

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edelfan · 2 years ago

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Looking into the darkened ready room, Ice saw Bradley's lone figure sitting on one of the chairs. Something deep inside him wanted to gather him in his arms and hold him close - like he used to do when the other man had been a little boy; their little boy. But Ice knew that those times had passed long ago.

"They'll keep Phoenix and Bob in the hospital overnight for observation. They're gonna be okay," Ice said, slowly walking into the room as not to spook Bradley. However, the younger man didn't even turn around, when he answered.

"That's good. I never lost a wingman."

Ice had to swallow down the bile as his thoughts immediately went to a room in the Navy hospital just across the base.

"You're lucky. Fly long enough, it'll happen... There will be others."

"Easy for you to say, old man. No kids, no time for your friends on your high horse, a devious bastard for a-"

"Go home. Let's get some sleep."

He knew that Bradley was angry and hurt, lashing out like a wounded animal, but it didn't mean that his words were without a punch to Ice's heart. He sighed heavily and closed his eyes. But Bradley, obviously, wasn't finished yet as he stumbled up from the chair and almost got into Ice's face.

"Why'd he pull my papers at the academy? Why did he stand in my way?"

The yelled words were echoing around the room. However, Ice didn't even flinch. His face was a stoic picture of a man who had seen too much in his life already.

"It's not my story to tell, but then again I wasn't even supposed to be here... Yeah, I had picked Maverick to teach you how to fly this mission, I'm just second best, like I've always been. But the man who took you in, who raised you like his own son, is currently lying in a hospital bed fighting for his life. He went beyond any safe and sane orders just to save a project from being scrapped and people losing their current job. So don't you dare..."

A shadow appearing in the light of the doorway made Ice stop mid sentence. It was Admiral Bates.

"Ice..."

#icemav #pete maverick mitchell #tom iceman kazansky #iceman x maverick #top gun maverick #top gun angst #top gun drabble #bradley rooster bradshaw

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beyondsuki · 2 years ago

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Star - Shine

Star

/stär/

a fixed luminous point in the night sky which is a large, remote incandescent body like the sun.

Toji Fushiguro

The woman in the ring

Instagram - Masterlist

Pairing: MmaFighter!Fushiguro Toji x black f!reader

Genre: Romance, Smut, Angst

Summary: What happens when you help MMA fighter Fushiguro Toji —unbeknownst to him—in his time of need?

Toji thought himself a simple man. A simple man who had never fallen in love. Although he would never audibly admit that.

Yes, there was a period in his life when he was married but he never truly felt there. He was young, and a star on the rise. Temptation was all around him yet he stayed faithful and committed to his vows. For five years he was betrothed. Tied down, trapped. For five years his marriage was perilous.

The cause of the divorce was an affair accusation. She thought he was sleeping with a journalist. A journalist? He laughed when she vocalized her concerns. She was incandescent. “You really think that I would sleep with a journalist?” That one sentence matured into a fight neither of them came back from.

He left that night and returned the next morning with divorce papers. He allowed her to keep the house while he now resides in a penthouse that overlooks the city. Every once in a while, a feeling of penitence washes over him and leaves him wondering whether or not he should’ve just stayed. “Toji! Hurry up, we have to get going, the fight is about to start.” He finished wrapping his fists. He grabbed his silk robe off its hook and slipped it on. The coolness of it lasted a few seconds longer than usual before latching on to his body heat. As he walked out and the routine cheering of his fans filled his senses, an unfamiliar face in the crowd caught his eye.

You work hard. You’re currently in medical school earning your M.D. so you can cross the finish line with the label and job title ‘Neurosurgeon’. “(Y/N) Come onn why not?!” Your friend Stacey from your class based solely on muscles was trying to get you to come to watch a fight. “We are in Medical School Stace, why do you want to see people hurting themselves deliberately?!” “It’s not even about that for real.” She said tucking her brown hair behind her ear. Her green eyes flashing with a fierce incentive. “Then what is it about?” “Have you seen Toji Fushiguro!?” “No. And I don’t want to see him.” She pulled out her phone “Let me just show you.” You rolled your eyes and sighed heavily knowing you wouldn’t be able to win this fight. She pulled up a picture and tilted the phone toward you. “Wow.” He is.. “I know right!! So let’s goo I literally bought two tickets and they weren’t cheap.” “Fine.” She had finally persuaded you into getting ready.

You readied yourself and are now sitting in the front row of the Fushiguro Toji vs Alexei Morozov fight waiting for the star fighter to come out. A coalescence of music and loud screaming invaded your ears making you turn your head towards the back. He was much larger than you imagined. Standing at, at least 6’5 this burly man managed to win the hearts of more than a few thirst quenched women. His sinewy muscles stuck out like a sore thumb. And his very presence left a bitter sweet taste in your mouth.

Someone slapped your shoulder dragging you out of your daydream “He’s looking over here oh my god!?” His gaze robbed you of an essential part of human homeostasis—your breath.

You ripped your eyes away from his and looked to the floor. When he walked on stage and his back was to you, you looked up again. You watched as the ‘Fushiguro’ on his silk robe morphed as he slipped it off. When the fight started you winced at the first punch. Tricep, Bicep, Latissimus dorsi, gluteus medius. You named the muscles being hit as practice due to yet another test the next day. Suddenly, Fushiguro was hit in the head and started bleeding.. a lot. You stood out of habit to get a closer look. The ‘medic’ that was attempting to stop the bleeding was failing miserably at her job. You pushed past the journalists and photographers.

“You need to apply pressure!” You yelled trying to get as close as possible. “Ma’am I’m gonna need you to back up.” Some guy with long hair said. “I know I know but your medic is not helping him. She needs to apply pressure to stop the bleeding and he needs to be stitched immediately.” The man looked back at the ‘medic’ staring at the fighter with goo-goo eyes. He pursed his lips and lifted the tape. You walked through and made your way to the mat. You tapped on the woman’s shoulder “Excuse me” she moved out of the way instinctively. “Hello Mr. Fushiguro.” You said while sliding your hands through a pair of latex gloves.

He looked at you confused. “You don’t know me but I’m here to help you.” You took some gauze from the pile of medical supplies and applied pressure to the cut above his eyebrow. You were wearing a black skirt with a white button-down top that slightly exposed your cleavage. His gaze could be felt even under the angry burn of the lights. You frantically searched the pile for an alcohol wipe. Once you found one you held it up to him “Rip.” He did as you asked “This is going to sting.” He pulled air through his teeth as you cleaned it. “Is there thread over there?” You asked the former ‘medic’ who just stood there in awe “Hello?” “O-oh me?” “Who else would I be talking to?” You said. Words coming out laced with venom “I-uh no there’s not.” “Of course not..” you glanced down. Next best thing you thought as you picked up some glue.

You applied it to the wound and squeezed. You grabbed some tape that specialized in holding wounds together and placed it on the cut. “Rag,” you said to the girl. She quickly handed you a rag and you wiped the sweat, dirt, and blood off the fighter's face. You paused for a moment as you looked into his eyes. The one thing you’d been avoiding all night. Brown pools of the sweetest honey. You snapped out of it though when you felt his large hands on your waist. He gently moved you out of the way to get up. You felt heat crawl up your neck, feeling grateful that your brown skin hid the blush appearing. This was when you noticed all the blood that stained your shirt.

You left the ring entering back into reality as you searched for your brunette friend. As you were removing your gloves you heard a familiar voice. “Oh my god!- Will you leave me the fuck alone! She’s my friend and I’m a doctor!” The man with raven hair lifted the tape reluctantly and Stacey ran over to you “Oh my god! How was it?! What was he like!?” She said frantically trying to look behind you to get a glimpse of the fight from up close. “We didn’t really talk..” “But I saw you talking?” “I was talking to the ‘Medic’” you said making air quotes. “Oh..”

You walked over to a man with white hair wearing a shirt labeled ‘Manager’ leaving your overly excited friend on her own. “Excuse me? Do you happen to have a shirt I could borrow?” “Hmm..” he hummed as he tapped his index finger on his lip “I do have an extra one but…” “But?” “It’s his” Oh “It should be fine. He doesn’t ever wear it.” He turned around revealing the ‘Fushiguro’ on his back. He walked to his bag and came back with a shirt. “Here.” “Thank you.” “Please hurry, it looks like we’ll be needing you again soon.” You glanced back at the fight just as Fushiguro took a hit.

You took the shirt and went to the nearest bathroom. You changed out of your button-down blouse and into the one Fushiguro’s manager had gifted you. It was huge. It stopped just before your skirt ended and it was three times the width you were. You placed your shirt in your bag and then went back to the ring.

You stepped in as they were hydrating him. “Hello again Mr. Fushiguro,” He nodded, his eye starting to swell. After slipping into another pair of gloves, you grabbed an ice pack and slapped it in your hand to get it to activate. “Hold this here.” You said to the girl. She obliged and you began to tend to his bleeding shoulder. You grabbed the bottle of alcohol and a cotton round. “You might need to hold on to something for this one.” Just then, you felt his hands on your hips. A chill ran down your spine causing you to pause. They were so warm.

You let out a tremulous breath and resumed to tend to his wound. He tightened his grip when you applied the round. “Sorry.” You apologized. He just stared at you. “What’s your name?” He spoke finally. “(Y/N)” “(Y/N)..” he repeated back, almost dazed “That’s me.” You finished cleaning his wound and could now move on to patching it. Once you were done you moved out of the way—well, at least you tried but he kept you there, in place. “Mr. Fushiguro- I- the round is starting in 10 seconds.” You said, your tone incredulous “Find me after the fight.” “What?” “Gotta go.” He moved you out of the way and stood up.

You left the ring confused once again. You took the gloves off and decided to watch the rest from where you were standing. Fushiguro ended up winning causing an uproar in the arena. Stacey on the other hand hit it off with some journalist. “Are you sure you don’t need a ride?” “Positive.” “Okay! See you tomorrow.” She walked away giddy. You tapped on a blonde man wearing a Fushiguro shirt. “Um- Excuse me?” He turned around “I was told to find Mr. Fushiguro after the fight?” He cocked his eyebrow while his eyes scanned your body. “By who?” “Mr. Fushiguro…” Just then the man with the white hair came out “Kento what the fuck? Why isn’t she halfway to Toji already?” The man shrugged. “C’mon,” the manager led you through the tunnels to where you assumed the fighter would be. “He’s right in there.” He said pointing at a room labeled ‘Fushiguro Toji’ “W-wait you’re not coming in?” “Oh no, I don’t bother him after fights.”

You cautiously walked over to the door and gave a light knock. “Move.” You heard from behind the door. “Hi..” you said when he opened the door. His face was smug “Hi.” He smirked. Your eyes traveled down his figure. He was lacking a shirt, revealing his sinewy abdomen. “Everybody out.” “But sir- we haven’t finished your trea-“ “She’ll handle it.” He opened the door wide enough for the nurses to leave while he leaned against the frame. They all gave you dirty looks as they made their way out. “You just gonna stand there?” He said walking back to his seat. You walked in and closed the door behind you. He cocked his eyebrow “So this is that kind of visit?” “W-what?! I-I didn’t know if y-you wanted privacy!” He laughed “I’m teasing.” You shook your head while he chuckled. A deep, sexy chuckle. One that made you tingle and throb in all the right places. “I knew that..” “Oh did you now?” “I did.” You said before walking over and grabbing the medical supplies.

Toji felt a chills where your fingers graced his back. “Y’know..most people are scared of me.” He said slightly looking back “You? No way” You said, sarcasm laced in your words as you applied ointment to a few of his wounds. “Your possy seemed to have no problems with you. I mean, they all looked pretty disappointed when they had to leave” “Tch yeah...no matter how many times I kick them out they never get used to it.” You laughed. Toji felt his heart flutter. You walked around to his front, moving his slightly sweaty hair out of the way to look at the scar you had patched earlier. “Everything looks good. Well, not good but you know.” Your eyes scanned his face, skillfully avoiding his eyes. “How’d you get that?” You pointed to the scar on his lip. “Accident.” You finally found his eyes. “..You are a vague man.” You felt your pockets. “Do you mind?” You asked, showing him your chapstick. “Only if you come back to my place.”

You froze and tried to read his expression but you couldn’t. You smiled “I don’t give it up that easily.” He grabbed your wrists and slightly pulled you forward. “You sure?” Yes “…no” he cracked a smile and you applied the chapstick. Dipping it slightly when you reach his scar. “Is that a yes?” “Only if you want it to be.” Your heart was beating so loud you were sure he could hear it. He stared at your lips and you sheepishly glanced at his.

He let your wrists go and your lips connected. You felt a burning heat erupt in the very pit of your stomach. You’ve kissed men before but never like this. You loosely wrapped your arms around his neck as you stood up straighter. You both pulled away at the same time. He swiped his tongue over his teeth before standing up. Your arms fell back at your side as he grabbed his shirt and slipped it over his head. He grabbed his bag and then your hand. It was so large in comparison that he completely encased it. “Mr. Fushiguro wher-“ “Toji.” “What?” “Call me Toji.” He said looking back at you. You were struggling to keep up with his long strides. “Toji.” “Yes?” “Where are we going?” “You’ll see.” You walked with him as he pulled you through the tunnels.

On your way there, more of his security started to surround you. When you finally made it out you entered an epileptic’s worst nightmare. You put your arm over your eyes to help shield them from the flashing lights. You felt Toji’s arm wrap around you as you pushed through the photographers.

You sighed when you finally reached the car. “Shit.” “It’s not over.” You watched as they migrated around the car. You finally pulled off and you were on your way. When you arrived, paparazzi swarmed the car once again. His security opened his door and he got out. He then helped you out of the car. As you walked, your hand slipped out of his and you began to drown in the sea of paparazzi. You fell and scraped one of your knees.

Toji stopped immediately after he no longer felt your hand in his. “Mr. Fushiguro! Mr. Fushiguro!” He pushed five reporters out of the way with one swing of his arm. Suddenly, you felt yourself being picked up, bridal style. “T-Toji I can walk.” “I’m not letting you get run over again.” He carried you into the lobby and to the elevator before setting you down. He opened the door to his penthouse when you got there and told you to sit on the couch “Yes sir.” You said throwing your hands up.

He disappeared into a room and when he reappeared he was holding a first aid kit. He set it on the couch as he knelt between your thighs. “Oh Toji you really don-“ he glanced up at you, causing your talking to cease. He cleaned it with an alcohol wipe and as he placed the bandaid on your knee, he looked up at you. “Thank you..”

He squeezed as his hand traveled further up your skirt. “Let me know if you want me to stop.” You nodded slowly. When he got to your panties he swiped his thumb across the wet spot. You shuddered and closed your eyes. “Aht aht. Look at me.” You opened them again to look into his. You felt him use his other hand to pull your panties to the side and open your legs wider. “What a pretty pussy…and so wet too.” He ran a finger through your folds and you tried to close your legs. He held them open and rubbed circles on your puffy clit. “Fuck..” you said, breathless.

He pulled at the hem of your lace panties before sliding them off. He placed them in his pocket before sliding his middle and ring fingers into his mouth. He went back to rubbing your clit as he slid a finger inside. A loud moan ripped through your throat. You placed a hand on his shoulder for stability. He slipped another finger in and curled them. You trembled. He stood up as he fingered you, placing a knee on the couch.

He began to kiss you, traveling down your neck with sloppy, wet kisses. Kisses that left you wanting more. Lewd squelching filled the room as his fingers fucked into you tirelessly. Suddenly, you felt your stomach tighten and your moaning became louder. You tried to speak but nothing came out. “Are you gonna cum? Hmm?” He hummed against your neck sending chills down your spine. He could tell by the way you were clamping down on him that your orgasm was near.

Chills ran down your entire body when he spoke to you. “You gonna cum on my fingers? Hm? Go ahead…make a mess for me.” “Tojii” you spoke finally. You let out a loud whine as you came around his fingers. “Good girl” he said as he helped you ride out your orgasm.

You watched through half lidded eyes as he slid his fingers out and placed them into his mouth. He sucked them clean and pulled them out with a ‘pop’. You felt yourself being picked up and carried. He laid you down on his bed, “I’m gonna go shower. Do not touch yourself until I get back.” You nodded “I need words.” “Yes daddy” You said, your voice feigning innocence. Toji felt his cock twitch. He walked away and to the bathroom. You writhed on the bed, more horny then you’ve ever been. About twenty minutes later Toji came out in just a towel.

You sat upright. You looked so small on his abnormally large bed. He walked over to you and you could feel the blush creeping up on you. The towel he wore didn’t cover much. He placed his fingers on your jaw and lifted your head to make sure you looked him in the eye. “There’s no turning back after I start.” He said with an expression that made you feral. You nodded. “Words.” “O-okay” he smiled. He leaned in and kissed you. It was deep and sexy. The way he grabbed your neck with his warm, calloused hand. The way he moved them across your body. Squishing the plush of your ass, stomach, and thighs as if he was memorizing every inch of you.

He started to kiss down your neck. You shuddered underneath him as you let him take full control. You felt his hands slide up your shirt as he kissed and licked around your collarbone. He unhooked your bra with ease and slid it off under your shirt. “Leave the shirt on.” He’s been wanting to fuck you in it since you first put it on. It was bunched up over your breasts. He sat back to admire you. “So pretty…” before you could be embarrassed, he ran his tongue over a nipple. You moaned as your hands found purchase in his short cut raven hair. He bit, pinched, and soothed with his tongue.

He guided you out of your skirt and licked his fingers. He slowly rubbed down your slit, smearing the cum from twenty minutes prior. Placing his hands on your knees, he pushed them towards your chest. He squeezed on your thighs before wrapping his arms around them and pulling you to the edge of the bed. He made his tongue flat and wide as he licked up your cunt. You shivered with a moan “fuckk”. You placed your hand in his hair and tried to push him away. Everything was so sensitive. Too sensitive. You felt him smirk against your pussy as he held you against him with more force. He was enjoying this as much—if not more than you were. He loved the way you smelled, the way you writhed under him with every touch, the way you sounded. Everything about you was sheer perfection in his eyes.

You whined as he hummed into you. Your legs shook as a thin layer of sweat started to coat your skin. “Toji..” “Hm?” He hummed. “I’m- ouu” you couldn’t get the words out. “What is it baby?” “I-I’m uh-gonna c-um” “mm cum on my tongue princess.” And almost as if on command, your orgasm washed over you.

Once again, he helped you ride it out. Lapping up your orgasm along the way. You panted as he backed away. Even through half-lidded eyes you could see the glistening of his chin from your juices. He wiped his mouth with his arm and then bent down to kiss you. The kiss was sloppy and allowed you to taste yourself. You moaned into it and that was his last straw. He pulled his towel off and threw it to the floor, allowing you to see a glimpse of exactly how big he was. You quivered when you felt him rub his tip through your folds. He kissed you again and you gasped when you felt him slowly sink into you.

Tears pricked the corners of your eyes as you felt him stretch you. He kissed them as you dug your nails into his shoulders, creating little crescent moon impressions. “I know, I know. You’re doing so good for me baby.” Butterflies erupted in your stomach as you slightly relaxed. “That’s it, just r-relax” his hot breath fanned against your ear. He pushed his lips into your swollen ones. Swollen from how much abuse they had adhered from both you and him. He swallowed your whine as he pushed all the way in. “Shit s-so tight.” his voice broke as he almost bottomed out. He sat there for a moment letting you adjust to his size. After a few moments he felt your grip on his shoulder loosen a bit. “P-please move T-toji” he obliged and moved slowly at first, giving the pain a chance to cease.

The moans you released were like music to his ears. The way you tried to talk but ended up just babbling something that ended with his name. “Faster.” You managed to get out. He obliged once again. The room was filled with lewd slapping and squelching noises. He buried his head into your neck allowing you to smell his..vanilla shampoo?

“(Y/N) fuck- your pussy’s s-ucking me I-in so goood mm” he was practically whining. His words turned you on even more. “ouu” you moaned next to his ear. He backed away to sit up on his knees. He looked down to see the ring of white that sat at the base of his cock. Watching the way he completely disappeared inside of you. He moved his hand down to your clit and rubbed in slow circles as he fucked into you. Your moaning crescendoed and your legs shook. “Wait wait- ouu fuck wait.” You put your hand out in an attempt to get him to slow his strokes. He intertwined his fingers with yours as he continued to play with your sensitive nub. Tears graced your lashes as the shaking became more intense. “You gonna cum? Hm? Cum with me baby. Can you do that?” You were clamping down on him so good.

That familiar knot in your stomach was about to snap. He leaned into your neck anew. You bit down on his shoulder as you ran your nails down his back. “Tojii- ouu- mm I’m gonna- shit I’m gonna c-cum.” Your eyes rolled back and your vision went white when you came. Your entire body shook as his thrusts became sloppy. He whined as he pulled out and came on your stomach and shirt. He leaned his forehead against yours as you both caught your breath and came down from your high.

He peppered kisses all around your face as your body relaxed. “You did so good.” Was the last thing you really heard him say.

He went to the bathroom and cleaned himself up. He threw on a pair of boxers before coming back into the room. He cleaned your stomach and thighs with a warm towel making sure to be extra gentle. He pulled that shirt off of you and replaced it with the top to his green silk pajamas. You looked so cute in his large shirt. He then carried you to the bathroom and sat you down on the toilet. “(Y/N), wake up.” You opened your eyes to find a squatting Toji in front of you. From what you could make out, he had green pajama bottoms on with no shirt.

“What?” You were so cute. “You need to pee.” You nodded slowly. “Can you turn around?” You said, slurring the words together. He laughed. “(Y/N).” “Mhm?” “We just fucked.” “So? Nobody can pee with a six foot five man staring them down...” You said in protest. “Absolutely adorable…fine.” He turned around and you peed. When you were finished he helped you to the sink and then carried you back to bed. He covered you and then grabbed your clothes from earlier. He put them in the washing machine and cut all the lights off.

When he got in bed, you were facing away from him. He wrapped his arm around your waist and pulled you close. He kissed the top of your head before slowly drifting to sleep with you.

@kazushawty

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olivia-anderson-fanfic · 6 months ago

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Sisyphean (1/6)

“Well, one would usually hope that at least some of the actual residents wouldn’t be locked out, too. Sure, it keeps the Doppelgangers out, but it’s kind of a pain to find a whole new lot of tenants because the previous ones were all left outside overnight.”

(Eldritch!Ace Trappola vs SomeGuy!Deuce Spade. Horror AU heavily based on FROM(2022) and That's Not My Neighbor.)

Sisyphean Masterlist

Deuce stared at the numerous files splayed out on the table before him. It was… a lot. Too much to keep track of, frankly. His hands felt clammy as he flipped through the files on all of the hotel residents. When he had signed up for this job, he had thought that his biggest stress would be the cannibalistic beings he might allow in, but maybe the paperwork would kill him, first.

He laughed at his own mental joke, but it must have had a nervous note to it, because a hand came to settle on his shoulder.

He jumped, his head whipping around to find his employer, Cater, that perpetual smile of his in place.

“Don’t worry about it, Deuce,” Cater said. “I’m sure that no one can do worse than the last security guard.”

“... what does that mean?” Deuce said, though he was pretty sure that he didn’t want to know.

A dull shiver ran through him.

“So, let’s try to do better than that, okay, Deuce?” Cater said, flashing a wink.

Deuce swallowed thickly and turned to the control panel.

For a while, it was an almost deceptively normal job. He read over files, buzzed in residents. Almost got lost in the routine of checking the names, matching their faces to their ID photos, running their ID numbers, checking to make sure their cards weren’t expired…

To stave off complete boredom, he chatted idly as he worked, talking about their cool hats or the sports teams they were wearing merch for.

Monotony aside, the job almost had a sort of charm to it.

Not to say that the job was ‘all roses’ or anything, there were certainly unpleasant parts. Sometimes, people would forget to take out extremely important things, like their ID’s, and Deuce had to fight the urge to lock them out out of spite because how do you even forget that, but whatever.

It wasn’t until it was getting late, and tenants were coming home in larger numbers to ensure they didn’t get taken, that it happened.

It stepped in front of the glass doors, having to lean down just to ensure that its entire body was visible.

Deuce quietly amended his thoughts from earlier. Doppelgangers were certainly not cannibals, because ‘cannibalism’ implies that they were eating their own kind, and the thing in front of him was definitely not human. It was formless, more of a writhing mass of tentacles and eyes than humanoid, all inky black tendrils where there should have been flesh.

Deuce…

Had never seen one before. Not in person. They, for the most part, never showed their faces – or lack of them – during the daytime, preferring to use the cover of night to pick off anyone stupid enough to so much as poke their head out of their window after sundown. And, during the day, they posed as humans, to try and get inside.

This one must be young, to not even try and come up with a facade to fool him.

The thing slipped a few papers into the deposit box. The machine made a quiet beeping noise to tell him that he had ‘mail’.

More out of habit than anything, Deuce found himself picking up the items.

They were… sticky.

His hands shook as he looked down at the ID, making it difficult to make out any of the words, but he managed:

Ace Trap Pola Room No #No Occupation of a human form Not verified by the DDD ID#153 Card expires NE/V/ER Signed: ☆ce

Deuce’s head shot up to look at it again, disbelieving.

He almost regretted it as his gaze locked with one of its many eyes.

“What? Is it something about how I’m dressed? Don’t want to compliment me like everyone else? You’re going to hurt my feelings…”

How long had it been watching them?

Paper crumpled in his hands.

“I – I can’t let you in,” he stammered. Too quiet for it to hear, especially when he was almost entirely sure that it didn’t have ears.

But it heard him regardless: “Why not?” it asked, almost whining, though there was a lilting kind of amusement lining the edges of its voice.

Deuce could only stare in horrified silence.

The being seemed to catch sight of itself in the glass. It gasped, loud and overdramatic and hopelessly fake. “Ah! I have too many eyes! My bad! I’ll come back later with a new disguise!”

“Please don’t…” Deuce managed, feeling faint.

It just laughed at him.

But he thought this one felt less cruel, and more like an actual human laughing at something funny. This should have been a comfort. There was nothing better than laughing with other people, nothing could put someone at ease in quite so quickly. Something that made you feel warm and safe, that reminded even the most heartless of people of how connected they were to other human beings.

Knowing that that sound had come from something like this, though, made his skin crawl.

And, as quickly as it came, it was gone again.

Deuce nearly tripped over himself to rush to the door, pressing up against the glass, desperately trying to catch sight of it as it left, in vain hopes that it might lead to him getting an idea as to what it was going to do next.

But he couldn’t find it. Not only because his frantic breaths were fogging up the glass, but because there was simply nothing to see. Just a bunch of people heading about their days, making their way back home as quickly as possible.

As Deuce watched the crowd, frantically, looking for any hint of the Doppelganger in their midst, he couldn’t help but recognize the monster had no trouble blending in with humans when it wanted to.

It wasn’t young.

It was playing with him.

It was, perhaps, because he was already awake that night, staring at the ceiling blankly, unable to banish the monster that kept appearing behind his eyelids every time he so much as blinked… that he heard something he had never noticed before: the sound of his window rattling, ever so slightly, the window lock being tested. He looked outside, and found nothing was amiss. This was, somehow, worse.

#twisted wonderland fic #ace trappola #deuce spade #adeuce #maybe? idk #the bitches r gay idk #actually is it even gay if ace's canonical gender is Eldritch #can u tell op rewatched deathnote recently...#cater diamond #he is also here #unfortuantely for him

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whatdancingdorkswasalreadytaken · 1 year ago

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headcanon dump on leo’s coma and subsequent injury recovery (based on my recent post about leo’s post-coma voice here)

DISCLAIMER: i am not a doctor in any way, this is purely made up of my own ideas and research so there may be some medical inaccuracies

(due to the following post discussing comas, chronic injuries and other potentially triggering things such as vomiting and couching up blood i advise viewer discretion and encourage that you only read if you feel comfortable. thanks)

during the coma

raph stayed by her side for practically all of the three months, and he was the one who cared for her mainly - cleaning her gently everyday, feeding her and changing the water

mikey was in charge of preparing her food (it was just a mix of blended up nutrient ingredients to keep her as healthy as possible) which was served to her through a brand-new eye dropper which april had brought from the store, because they didn’t have a feeding tube or anything like that

sometimes (when they’d manage to find good money from casey and april doing odd jobs to people that lived in a small town a good few hours away) they would feed her formula as well as the general fluids as it can build muscle and provide extra nutrition

raph stayed with her for most of the time, but he struggled to talk to her as it made him too upset, and donnie also struggled to visit her on his own out of guilt for what had happened in new york, but mikey made sure to hold her hand and talk to her and read to her and sing to her, even when the others told him she couldn’t hear him (he didn’t believe them)

he even made her a ‘get well soon card’ which stayed on the side of the sink in the bathroom

mikey found loads of old books around the farmhouse and read them to her, and years later when they’re back at the lair and watching tv together an adaptation of one of the books comes on and leo frowns in confusion as she swears she’s heard this story before but has no idea where or when, just that it was read to her once but that she can’t remember when or who had read it to her (mikey is sitting quietly next to her and smiling so hard his face hurts)

the others could tell in the van that her leg was very badly damaged but they decided not to try and move it or wrap it up in fear of making it worse as they had no idea what the problem was

donnie and casey built handlebars all around the farmhouse as they knew that her leg was seriously damaged in some way and that she would have serious mobility issues afterwards

donnie made a cane for her as soon as he can as he knows she’d need it but april encouraged him, raph and mikey to decorate it for leo together as they were very distant around each other during the first month of their stay during the farmhouse

april found an old box of pens and paints from the attic and told them all to work together to design and decorate leo’s cane

they made lists of everything leo likes on paper and it took them practically the whole night to decorate the cane with colours, symbols and drawings, but it was the first thing that they all did together and it helped break the ice between the three of them

after the coma

she threw up quite a bit during the first few days of coming out of the coma due to how weak her body was and how overwhelming everything was

at first she remembered bits of the invasion in small pieces, and it slowly came back to her, but it took her at least two weeks to realise that splinter wasn’t with them and she got very upset about this as she remembered shredder before splinter

she sustained much damage to her throat during the invasion, which made her voice much deeper and more hoarse (like donnie said)

it caused her to breathe very noisily and heavily, which she found very humiliating and upsetting

she mainly ate soup/broth for the first few weeks after coming out of the coma due to the pain and difficulty that came with swallowing

she also frequently coughed up blood due to the throat damage which she also found embarrassing

(no one ever made fun of her for any of it, but she did think less of herself for it before raph talked some sense into her and reminded her of how close she was to death and how she needed to be kinder to herself, to which she replied with by telling him he should take his own advice since he’d been neglecting himself ever since the invasion, and after a few seconds of silence the two actually start laughing, though leo’s didn’t sound much like laughter)

none of them realised how dangerous it is for her to be lie down until one night where she suddenly stopped breathing for about twenty seconds, and raph almost broke his voicebox screaming to wake the others up (afterwards leo had to sit up whilst sleeping for a while, and raph always made sure she went to sleep first)

my personal headcanon is that her leg injury is due to a case of chronic patellar instability, which is in simple terms an unstable kneecap, which moves when you bend and straighten your knee

it usually causes pain and stiffness (and sometimes swelling) and a feeling of weakness and looseness and a buckling or locking sensation in the knee

it is not always a chronic condition, but i believe that in leo’s case it is due to the severity of the injury and how it was not really given the proper professional attention it needed soon enough, due to a combination of the invasion and everyone’s lack of medical knowledge (as surgery is available in severe cases of patellar instability, which i believe leo has)

she started wearing a knee brace and using a cane as soon as she could begin to walk around again (which is not straight away) and even then she was slow and unstable due to her injury but even just because the rest of her body was so numb and weak in general

although later on she won’t always be in constant pain so she doesn’t always wear the brace, she does keep the cane because it helps her (and doubles as a weapon in cases of emergency)

after she began to gain back some of her strength she begins some very slow and gentle physical therapy to help her body get back into shape

she lost a considerable amount of weight during the coma due to living off of fluids for three months and is actually slightly underweight when she wakes up, so whilst the others take care to slowly reintroduce real food to her, they make sure it’s full of nutrients and good stuff

also the painkillers she took for the pain make her gain weight too

by the time they leave for new york she is still using her cane and hobbling around, but she is stronger and faster than before, but running still takes a lot longer to get used to without her feeling like she’s going to pass out because of the pain

like i said before, she stops using the brace permanently after regaining her strength and slowly beginning to feel better, but she does have days where the kneecap moves too much and she can’t even touch it because the pain is unbearable so she uses it on and off for the rest of her life

however she keeps the cane (which her brothers decorated for her) and does keep taking painkillers like the rest of them forever (cause they’ve all got chronic injuries and pain together)

#tmnt 2012 #tmnt donnie #12 leo #12 raph #12 donnie #12 mikey #12 april #12 casey #farmhouse arc #transfem leo #headcanons #tw coma #tw chronic pain #tw leg injury #tw emetophobia #tw blood #tw weight mention #tw throat damage #text

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steddieas-shegoes · 2 years ago

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Wrote this based on this post and heavily encouraged by @zerokrox-blog, so in celebration of finishing my paper, here is a 30 minute attempt at expanding on this particular brain rot

It’s like his brain can’t associate water with anything but death.

He knew Steve had trouble with water after everything, still does. He knew sometimes Nancy wouldn’t come to the pool parties at Steve’s house because she still saw Barb drowning in the deep end if she stared too long. He knew they all avoided the lake for obvious reasons.

His thing started with a sudden downpour. He thought it had to be just rain, right? He could just stay home if it looked like a storm was coming. Easy enough.

Until he had almost the same reaction in the shower the day after. Wayne had to come in and shut the water off, throw a towel around him, and sit on the floor talking to him for almost 20 minutes before he was able to dry off and get into bed.

They did manage to find a system that worked for the shower eventually, though it was embarrassing for Eddie.

Wayne would get the shower started while Eddie stripped off his clothes. He’d turn away while Eddie got in the shower, then sit on the toilet lid and talk to Eddie as he slowly wet each individual limb and scrubbed his skin with soap. He’d rinse the same way, flinching at the way the water felt hitting his skin.

Wayne’s voice did help though. He’d tell him stories of his childhood, of the adventures he’d go on with Eddie’s mom, of crazy things that happened at the plant. It was enough to get the job done.

Then he’d get out, wrap a towel around his middle, and kneel down next to the tub so Wayne could wash his hair.

If Eddie closed his eyes and Wayne kept talking, he could almost ignore the way the water felt. They only washed his hair once a week because it was such a hassle for both of them.

He’d tried everything.

Steve made some suggestions that helped him, most of which revolves around stuff he was already doing.

Robin even tried to come help wash his hair in the sink instead like she did for Steve, but he ended up smacking her hands away the second the water touched his head.

The kids found out by accident; a storm was rolling in right when Eddie was leaving to meet up for movie night at Steve’s. He called Steve and apologized a million times, Steve brushing it off like it was fine and he understood. Deep down, Eddie knew he did, but it still sucked.

Dustin called him 30 minutes later and talked to him about anything and everything for the next hour, saying he didn’t really want to watch the movie they picked that night anyways.

It was kind, but Eddie felt terrible taking him away from the group.

But the kids took turns any time they were all together and Eddie was stuck at home because of rain. They sometimes would pile into Steve’s car and come to the trailer, making sure they didn’t touch Eddie if they were wet. He wanted to cry at their kindness, but he held it in.

But eventually, he couldn’t take it. He felt like a burden. Everyone dropped everything to make him feel better or make it easier for him and it was too much.

He turned to the one person in the group who would look at this objectively: Nancy god damn Wheeler.

“There has to be a way.”

“Therapy might help.”

“I’m already in therapy. It doesn’t help with this. That’s more for like ‘kinda wish I died down there’ and not ‘it feels like water will kill me.’”

“Have you ever heard of exposure therapy?”

Since he was an uneducated idiot, no. He told Nancy he wasn’t sure that would work since he’d been forcing himself to take showers and wash his hair this whole time with no improvements.

“This is different. It’s more a controlled environment and doing small things to move back towards normal exposure to your fear. Like how right now you shower in a way that keeps your whole body out of the water. This would be like getting your whole body under the water for 30 seconds, then the next time a full minute, and keep going until you can do it for long enough to take a regular shower.”

“Okay but I have unmanageable panic attacks when I do that, Nance.”

He could hear her eye roll over the phone.

“When was the last time you tried? Who was there? What was your plan if things went bad?”

Eddie remained silent. She knew the answers to those questions.

“I thought so. I think I have a plan. Can I come over?”

“What, now?”

“Why not now?”

She really did not hesitate when she was set in her ways, did she?

“Okay, fine. Wayne’s not here though.”

“He doesn’t need to be.”

And that’s how Nancy god damn Wheeler first saw him completely, whole ass naked.

It was very clinical; She was basically a therapist doing her job for the entire thing. But it did leave him feeling quite awkward.

“I just don’t understand why I can’t still wear boxers or something.”

“Because you have to do the real thing from the start or it’ll take longer.” Nancy rolled her eyes. “I’m not attracted to you Eddie. You’re very handsome, but you’re not my type.”

“You’re not my type, either.”

Nancy smirked at him. “I know. Steve’s polos aren’t quite my style.”

Eddie looked away, face bright red. She clapped her hands after a moment to get him to focus.

“So for the first time, I’ll turn the water on and you’ll get in like you usually do. After a minute, you have to step backwards into the water so it hits your whole back. You have to stand like that for 30 seconds. Then you step back out. If you have to step all the way out you can. Okay?”

“No.”

“Eddie.”

“Okay! Fine!”

“I read a lot about this. I promise it’ll work if we keep trying.”

He stepped into the shower and let the water hit his toes. This part was normal. It wasn’t fine, but it was fine-adjacent. He was used to it.

“Ready?”

“No.”

“Eddie.”

Nancy’s sighing was slightly amused, so he knew he wasn’t in trouble, but he still felt the nerves eating away at his stomach.

“Okay. What’s the plan if I can’t do it?”

“Let me worry about it.”

Eddie took another breath, trying to work up the courage. He felt his heart racing and his breath coming in shorter pants the more he thought about the water hitting his whole body.

“Eddie. You can do it.”

“Okay.”

So he turned his back to the water, backed up one step, then two, then three. And water was hitting him.

It hit his shoulders, cascading down his arms and back, hitting his waist and rolling off his stomach down his legs. It was warm, but he felt his whole body shiver at the feeling.

He could hear Nancy counting distantly, feel her eyes on him through the crack of the shower curtain. He tried to focus on her voice, on the way she already had a towel in her hands for when this was over. How no bats were circling above ready to eat him from the inside out. How this water was nothing like the lake, it was clean and the light was on in the bathroom so he could see everything around him.

When she reached 30, he practically jumped out and landed in her arms, towel not quite covering her so she got soaked.

He didn’t have enough brain power to realize he was soaking wet, naked, and being held by Nancy god damn Wheeler.

He sobbed as she managed to wrap the towel around his back, shushing him and telling him to take a deep breath.

He did.

“Another one.”

Her voice was becoming less distorted. He could feel his chest heaving now instead of a dreadful numbness throughout his extremities.

“Good. You did it. You did great.”

He’d done it. He’d done the first step.

“Here, wrap this around you so you get warmer.”

She moved him back enough to wrap the towel all the way around his shoulders, like he was a child trying to cover his entire body in a towel after a bath.

“Thanks.”

His voice was broken and raspy, but she smiled at him all the same.

“Don’t thank me. I feel like I’m kind of torturing you.”

“I may be into that, Wheeler.”

She snorted. “Talk to Steve about that. Though I think he’s probably into the receiving end of that, not the giving part.”

Eddie choked on his next breath.

“You don’t pull your punches, do you?”

“Never have, never will.” She started moving back to the sink to grab his fresh clothes, a cozy sweater he may have stolen from Steve and the sweatpants he wore the night before. “Are you okay if I step out while you get dressed?”

“What? Tired of seeing me naked?”

“You’re insufferable.”

“You love me.”

Nancy smirked. “Yeah. We all do. That’s why I’m willing to stare at your naked ass to help you with this.”

She was trying to make light of the situation, but he couldn’t help but let out a small sob at the fact that he had so many people who loved him enough to do this.

“I’m good. I’ll be done in a minute.”

Nancy waited for him to throw on his clothes, some residual moisture making his shirt stick to him. He hated it, but tried his best to ignore it. Another step towards facing his fears or whatever.

Nancy was waiting in the kitchen, a can of beer waiting on the counter for him.

“Is alcohol the answer?”

“No. But you deserve to celebrate a milestone. Just this one though or everyone will think I’m a pushover.”

“God forbid people know Nancy Wheeler has a heart.”

She nudged his arm with her elbow, smiling proudly at him.

“Proud of you for this. I know I kind of made you do it, but you could have backed out.”

“What was the backup plan? What if I completely freaked when the water touched me?”

“Try again tomorrow.”

“That’s it?”

“That’s always it. We all have to face shit every day. Some of us are scared of water, some of us are scared of clocks, some of us are scared of dogs. Some days are harder and we can’t face it. But we try again tomorrow. And the next day. And the next. And eventually we don’t have to try as hard. And maybe eventually we won’t have to try at all.”

“Wise words.”

“I have those sometimes.”

They both laughed, but Eddie was drained. He felt the emotional exhaustion manifest in physical aches throughout his whole body.

He glanced at the clock and saw it was only eight.

“Wanna stay for a bit?”

“Oh yeah. No way I’m leaving you alone for at least another hour, Mr. Delayed Trauma Response.”

“Smart plan, Dr. Exposure Therapy.”

So they hung out, snacking on some chips he found in the cabinet that were borderline too stale to enjoy, talking about the next few days’ plan, and if he wanted anyone else to know about it.

“You plan on coming here every night for the next month or more?”

“I’m willing to. But I think it might help to rotate people. Robin would be more than willing. And…”

“Steve cannot see me like that. Not after the rain thing.”

“No offense, but if you ever plan to get anywhere with Steve, it’s gonna involve an emotional upheaval and nudity.”

“A panic attack in the shower? How sexy.”

“Steve will want to help.”

“He always wants to help.”

“And he’s been through this, too.”

“He could take showers, though.”

“But he isn’t gonna judge you. Neither will Robin. Or anyone else we involve.”

“No one but them.”

Nancy searched his face before nodding. “I’ll call them tomorrow. They have to understand the process. But I’m coming tomorrow again. You need a constant the first few times.”

“Was that in a book?”

“It was in all the books, actually.”

“How many books did you read?”

“Seven.”

“I just called you today!”

“Well I may have started a while ago. I knew you’d be ready eventually.”

Eddie shook his head in disbelief. “You’re something else.”

“So I’ve heard.”

When Nancy left, Eddie felt a little worried for a few minutes that he shouldn’t be alone. He thought about calling Steve, but decided he needed to try to face this part of the fear too.

He’d call Steve in the morning.

For now, he got in bed, pulled the covers over himself, and didn’t flinch when he heard rain drops hit the roof.

#eddie munson #nancy wheeler #stranger things #traumatized Eddie #Eddie is scared of water #Nancy helps him #steve harrington #robin buckley #steddie feelings are implied and joked about #headcanon #tumblr drabbles

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ficjoelispunk · 1 year ago

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CH 03 - ARCHIVE ROOM

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Author's Note: Guys, let me know if you like gifs in the middle of the text to illustrate the narrative. 🥹 And, like always, I'm sorry for any grammatical errors, don't give up on me, translating is not easy, but I did my best. Correct me as much as you can. Thanks.

Pablo Escobar was a guy who would never be without allies. He was basically a Hydra, if you cut off one head, two more would be born in place.

And with the smaller cartels, which formed the Medellin cartel, there were no treaties of trust. The gangs did what it took to keep themselves standing and alive.

Peña and Murphy would spend time in Medellin, start the day in La Catedral harvesting evidence. Then they went to the Central Agency, a former police academy that was transformed into a base, which would be heavily used in the hunt by Pablo Escobar.

This would give you a little peace at the embassy, since that way you didn't have contact with them, so often. And you could swear that the two of them were already missing you, since now to go out in operations the requests were made directly to the Colonel.

The biggest enemy of the police in the capture by Pablo was the people themselves. He used the children and the people as a shield and protection, in exchange for money, and small services.

So the president of Colombia offered on the national network, a reward of 1.4 million to those who provided information, worldwide. Anyone would think he was fucked. But Pablo wasn't just anyone. And that only set precedents for him to start a show.

This particularly doubled everyone's work. Since many calls arrived, but without any foundation. And Pablo started working with the media, messing with the head of the Colombian population, putting himself in a place of victim.

The guy was a genius. It was so cunning that it made the population forget all the deaths and blood that was on their hands. And many people ended up feeling sorry and compassion for Pablo.

President George Bush offered appropriate support from the American army. When President Bush says "appropriate support" it is worth remembering that, we were talking about a man who had been head of the CIA.

To begin with, you got a new boss, Ambassador Arthur Crosby. A navy guy specializing in Latin American issues and counterterrorism. And to the joy of Murphy and Peña, they also won a Chief, Messina. What you still had no idea if she made your life even easier or made your life even more hell, due to the bad mood of the duo of agents.

And finally, you had to leave Bogotá and go to Medellin.

When you arrived in Medellin, you were faced with a much more terrifying scenario than you imagined. The more Escobar felt threatened, the worse things got.

As soon as they arrived in Medellin, your new boss called a meeting between all of you. You had the opportunity to meet the new members on the plane on the way to Medellin.

When Peña entered the room, you were already there, next to Crosby. And strangely, you were happy to see him. Known face maybe, the feeling is not known.

But where was Murphy?

Peña took his eyes on you, you felt his eyes on you. But you were focused on keeping your attention in the words of your new boss. It was a gift that you were not relocated along with Noonan, a sign that your work has been observed.

You would follow the DEA's operations, the intelligence team and also the Centra Spike eavesdropping, which should all be sent to your Boss, outside of course, everything else. It was a lot of work

The meeting is over, and you were careful to reorganize the room while everyone leaves. Less Peña.

While you were collecting the folders and papers, you looked at him.

"Miss me?"

He smiled, walking around the room slowly.

"I thought you'd come back with Noonan."

"Disappointed then?"

He smiled again.

"I think I must be doing a good job, after all," you completed.

"With so many new bureaucracies, you will be the highlight."

"Ha ha ha, funny" you made a face at him.

Javier kept looking at you through his eyelashes smiling maliciously.

"Where is Murphy?" You fixed all the folders in your arms, and walked towards the exit of the room. "Is he okay?"

Javier offered help with the folders, but you dodged him. He rolled his eyes.

"He's fine. He's having some problems at home..."

You walked to your new table, which eventually Javier would do this way a lot. You dumped the folders on the table, opening a file behind your table, to start storing them, between one movement and another you looked at Javier who was leaning his hands on the table.

"Is Connie okay?"

"Yes... she went back to Miami"

You took a break. Looking at Javier.

"That's bad." You furrowed the corner of your mouth.

"Agent Peña? Have you a minute?" Messina appeared in the hallway behind you calling Javier.

He turned around, and nodded to her. But before he went, he took another look at you, from top to bottom, so as not to lose the habit.

"Good to see you," he said with a crooked smile. The dimple in the smile was a little appealing in those moments.

You smiled and nodded to him, continuing the automatic movement of saving the files in the archive.

That was weird. There was no provocation. You don't hear a pin. Just a normal conversation. Were Medellin's airs different? What was going on? Maybe it was everyone's nerves the best of the skin.

***

You hated Escobar more every day. After an interview that a newspaper published. The movements began to drive the department crazy.

First of all, the police were everywhere. Blockings searching everything and everyone. On the streets. In the houses. Everywhere.

The whole department moved to the Central Agency, and you being the Ambassador's representative were also there. So basically all the sectors were together and reunited.

This meant that from where you were you could hear Javi's typewriter typing in your head. It meant that you bumped into him in every corridor. It meant that you saw him every day. It meant that you were sleeping in the same place. Because they gave up dorms for you.

It was a big nightmare.

You watched from the box Colonel Pizon put the two DEA agents to the corner, making them work as if they were telephone operators, answering the calls of the tracks behind the millionaire reward.

Javi and Murphy were completely out of their mind.

It was already late, when you went down to the file room, and you were smoking in hiding, so you didn't have to leave the complex just to smoke a cigarette.

You heard the door creaking when someone opened it. And he put out his cigarette as fast as he could.

"Are you smoking in the file room?"

Peña.

"You know it's a room full of papers, right?"

"I'm already leaving"

"Sorry" Peña passed through the corridors looking for you, and when he found you at the bottom near the window he walked more wandering following in his direction in the middle of the paper box corridor, "I didn't want to be a nuisance"

You closed your eyes ignorantly, and sighed.

"Yeah, your presence is very pleasant."

You walked towards the exit, but Javier came in front of you preventing you from passing.

"Excuse me?!" You looked at him with your eyes snapped, faking a surprise.

"What did I do for you?" He spoke in that tone that you hated, because it gave you goosebumps.

You sighed.

"What do you mean?"

Javier approached, shortening the distance from you, with his head tilted running his eyes for you, from head to toe, in a way that made you disconcerted.

"What did I do to make you hate me so much?"

You snorted while letting out a low laugh, and decided to ignore it, taking a step to the side, so that you could access the hallway and leave the room.

Javier mirrors your movement, hitting his hand on the bookshelf next to your head, preventing you from passing through it.

He leans over you, shortening the distance from your faces even more.

"I asked you a question"

His darkened eyes danced in your face.

Your mouth opened, looking for the words, trying to remember how to speak, as he entered the silent dance that Javier's eyes did under you.

It's been a while since you were like this, ready for provocation and exchange of free pins with each other.

"I don't hate you Javier, you don't deserve so much sentimental space inside me. I just can't stand the fact that you are egocentric enough not to respect my work and realize that what I do also saves lives. That without my work, without my arguments in your requirements for licenses and authorizations, you would not get a single unit of reinforcements."

Javier frowned, straightening his posture. You continued.

"You get all the merit, all the euphoria, but who is behind the table doing the operational service, it's me. The tactical only works because I use this little head of mine and deliver a perfect system for you. I think about everything. For you to execute. And I never received a thank you"

He looks to the side, and smiles. Putting the arm back under the shelf.

"So that's it?"

You frowned.

“What?”

"Do you want recognition?" He shrugs his shoulders.

You close your eyes and shake your head.

"Unbelievable" you pass by him, bumping into his shoulder.

But he holds your arm. The hands are so large that your fingers are easily circling the circumference of your arm.

You look at where his hands hold you.

"Let me go"

He pulls you close to him. You are frightened by the abrupt movement and let out an air through your mouth in surprise. You are so close to each other that you feel the heat of his body radiating over yours.

He almost touches his forehead on yours while talking.

"This beautiful little head should know that in this environment no one will congratulate you for doing your job. And that doesn't mean you don't do it very well."

You smile ironically. Maintaining eye contact, not knowing exactly what to say, because all this contact with him, the force with which he holds you pressing his body into yours, makes you feel your core throbbing.

"Funny, I see you being congratulated. For me, this is nothing more than a sexist excuse, so that a woman is not recognized in the proper way. Now excuse me, that I need to keep working so that imbecile men get their decorations"

He shakes his head without letting you go, while the eyes stuck in you are darkened.

"You always have to have the last word"

"Let me go Javier" you pull your arm to yourself "or me..."

Javier smiles when he hears your mouth pronounce his name. He pulls you back to him, holding your face, with your free hand, and pressing a kiss on your lips.

You stay still at first. Your eyes are shatangled, seeing Javier with his lips stuck to yours.

He releases your arm, and uses his hand to hold your back. Your heart is racing. Jumping from the chest.

His hands on your back press your body on him. And from then on, something took over your body.

Surrender.

He was right all along, if you couldn't escape, you would give in to your desires.

Your hands held the lapel of his jacket, gently. He breathed, with his head falling to the other side. And you tilted yours to the opposite side, so that your lips would fit. Your eyes close slowly.

Javi's index finger, gently brushing against your cheek, a soft moan coming out of his throat, with the feeling of your soft lips merging with him.

A kiss like that had nothing to do with the profile described by the other women you've heard of. It was a soft, soft kiss.

He pulled back gently, his mouths opening, his tongue running out to slide into your mouth. His nose brushed against yours as he continued to push a little forward, but then back again - your breaths mixing in the tight space between you.

You were totally delivered. Your arms went up to intertwine in Javi's neck. And his hands went down to his waist. His fingers pressing his flesh. He kissed you stronger, more intense, more in need, you heard his breathing getting heavy.

Your fingers melted over his hair. And he moaned on your lips. In response, your body pressed against his, and it was like waking up a hungry man.

Javier took a step forward, pushing you back, so that your back pressed on the shelf behind you.

His hands on your waist opened full of fingers, slide down the side of your breast. You let out a heavy air from inside you, moaning deep in your throat, while Javier's tongue fought a friendly battle inside your mouth with your tongue for the first time.

You pulled his hair, with the feeling of his fingers caressing the side of your breasts. You arched to him, and Javier lowered one hand to your ass, squeezing you flesh so hard that you could have the marks of his fingers the next day, you both moaned with the feeling.

He slid his hand to the back of your thigh, raising your leg on his side, so that he could position himself in the middle of your legs.

He held your thigh next to his hip. And he pressed his rigidity in your middle. You shuddered. Javier was so hard, it seemed like he could break the fabric of his pants. His greeting was so big and thick, you unconsciously grinded your sore clitoris against him.

Your lips parted, and the two moaned. Your two foreheads glued to each other.

"I think I found a way to make you quiet" his voice was a panting murmur, he kissed your jaw, tracing a path to his earlobe, biting it lightly. You get goosebumps, instinctively tilting your head back.

Your breathing is erratic.

You open your eyes. And it's like regaining consciousness.

"Stop!" You push Javier's shoulders.

You're panting. Taking steps backwards. Fixing your skirt.

He looks at you scared. Open your hands wrapped around your body in surrender. Confused.

You turn around, and walk away so fast, you believe you might be running.

In high heels. For The Academy. With a whole department housed there.

Shit!

#pedro pascal #javier pena x y/n #javier pena fluff #javier pena x you #javier pena x reader #javier pena smut #javier pena fanfiction #javier pena imagine #javier pena fic #javier pena narcos #javier peña #narcos fanfiction #narcos

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cloudynyims · 1 year ago

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Flames and Sparks

Okay this is totally based on this post by @stupidgtblog and I just went for it. School is kicking my ass rn so writing will be few and far between but I just had to get this one out!!! Mentions of fire, and maybe some anxiety. 3.3k words I went crazy lol. Enjoy!!!

This was not how the first week at her new job was supposed to go.

It had been a month since Melanie packed up her life and moved to one of the newly built integrated cities. These were made for humans and borrowers alike, taking into consideration accessibility and safety for the borrowers. As expected, not many borrowers were willing to move into these cities. So, the government offered housing discounts and opened up hundreds of jobs to entice people to make the move.

Melanie’s minimum wage job and noisy apartment made it easy for her to make the switch. If moving to an inter-city meant never having to hear her nosy neighbor’s kids yelling in the middle of the night, she was going to do it. It took her a while to find a job, but finally, she landed an intro position as a receptionist at a borrower office building. She started working earlier in the week.

So far, she hadn’t embraced the change of the inter-city very much. Her commute to work was a drive down a road too small for humans to use. Her job was in a borrower-only office building. Even her apartment had borrower-only housing options, which she gladly accepted. She had only heard or felt the quaking footsteps of humans, which made her jump every time.

Melanie wouldn’t say she was scared of humans, just slightly unnerved. She had never seen one in person before and only had preconceived notions from her parents and friends about what they were like. She knew they were big, obviously, but they varied greatly in personality. Some were gentle, mindful, and respectful of borrowers and their space while others were more curious, grabby, and less self-aware. It was mostly the random chance that Melanie didn’t like. She’d never know a human’s personality until it was too late.

Even though she wasn’t making friends with giants, she was able to make friends with her coworkers. A few of them were new like her, and they bonded quickly. They often spent lunch breaks together, talking and chatting about their new work life and experiences being in an inter-city for the first time. It was during one such conversation at the end of her first week that chaos struck.

One of the visiting ambassadors from a different city left his cigarette lit on the table before leaving a meeting with Melanie’s supervisors. The cigarette lit the desk papers on fire, and the rest of the room quickly followed. The fire alarms blared. Melanie and the others were still in the break room several floors up. They covered their ears, unsure if the alarm was a drill or an emergency.

Just then, a supervisor ran into the break room. “Fire! Everyone stay calm! This is not a drill! Do not panic! Everyone evacuate immediately!” she yelled as she ran through the room, exuding anything but calmness.

The room descended into chaos. The panicked new hires began running around collecting their belongings while trying to find the exit stairways. There was yelling, screaming, and people desperately calling their families as well as the authorities. People were crashing into each other and breathing heavily, wasting the precious fresh air that was slowly getting thinner. The temperature in the room was rising as the fire steadily climbed the floors of the office building.

Melanie had unwillingly chosen fright as opposed to flight during this ordeal. Her mind was struggling to process the chaos as she stood amidst the people bustling to get out of the building.

“Which way is the stairwell?”

“Oh god, are we all going to die?”

“Someone call the fire department!”

“Stop, drop, and roll!”

“No, we have to get out of here first!”

It was all too much. Melanie blinked blankly until someone harshly bumped against her in the frenzy, startling her out of her stupor. Suddenly, she became hyper-aware of her situation. She needed to go, to get out of here, now. The air was getting hazy and dry. Melanie stumbled a little but eventually picked herself up and began following the other office workers toward the door. Once she exited the break room, it was utter chaos among the cubicles. People were running in every direction and yelling over each other.

With all the people running, it was becoming difficult for Melanie to breathe and move. She didn’t know the building well enough to know where she was going or where the emergency exit was. But she needed a breather. She needed to clear her head. The floor was starting to get hot and ash was filling the air. This made getting her bearings difficult to do.

Melanie pushed and broke through the crowds towards a door she knew led to a conference room. She touched the door hesitantly, testing if it was hot to the touch. Upon confirming the door’s temperature, she thrust it open and closed it behind her. She took a moment to breathe.

Now that she had a chance to look around, she could tell the building was in bad shape. She coughed from the ash in the air and could feel the heat radiating from the floor. It wasn’t enough to burn, but it was uncomfortable, to say the least. The building groaned under its own weight as the fire weakened the supports of the walls. Melanie briefly wondered if anyone had actually called the fire department. Shouldn’t they be here already?

As soon as the thought entered her head, she felt it. The distinct tremors of human footsteps approaching the office building. But these weren’t the casual walking steps that she heard before. It sounded like an earthquake that rolled across the ground. These humans sounded like they were running, and there were a lot of them. She peeked out the window, and her jaw dropped at what she saw.

So many human firefighters, dressed in the typical black uniform with neon green stripes, all RUNNING toward the building. ‘So someone did call the authorities,’ Melanie thought glumly in her head. The humans were huge, bigger than she ever could have imagined in her head. Their footsteps were so strong that she worried their steps would knock over the fragile, burning office building.

Melanie was frozen, watching the humans get closer. She couldn’t wrap her head around the situation. ‘Aren’t their borrower firefighters? I know it’s an inter-city, but won’t these humans just knock over the building completely? Shit, I really need to get out of here.’ With a harsh cough, she turned toward the door and exited the conference room.

There were still a good amount of people in the room but far fewer than before. They were mostly lost new hires trying to figure out how to exit the building, opening random doors to try and find stairwells. However, going downstairs was quickly becoming less accessible as the fire climbed, the floors grew hotter, and the air became dryer and more contaminated with ash and debris. Now, everyone, including Melanie, was trying to climb up.

The pounding of the human footsteps had been ringing in Melanie’s ears since she heard them approach. Her frazzled mind tried to find a staircase while also trying not to focus on the burning building or the giant humans looming outside. Then, she finally heard the earth-shattering voices coming from the humans outside.

“Everyone, please stay calm. We are here to rescue you and help evacuate. Please get to the closest window so that we can assist you. Everything will be alright,” one of the humans, the fire captain, if Melanie had to guess, explained. His voice was so loud and carried such force that it sent chills up Melanie’s arms and legs.

Logically, she knew that following his words was her best chance of surviving. But for some reason, she just couldn’t. She couldn’t get past how everything about these humans was gigantic. Their faces, hands, clothes, and actions were all just scaled up. It was an intimidating sight to someone like Melanie who had never seen a human before.

She could hear the fire captain yelling instructions to the rest of the firefighters. His voice rang out again. “Marcus, clear the lower floors. The rest of division 2, immediately start helping with evacuation. Calista, help me stabilize the building. And division 1, help ensure the rescued borrowers are faring well and perform any first aid necessary. As soon as possible, we need to clear this building. Understood?”

The firefighters chorused in agreement and the footsteps began anew as they all went to their designated assignments. Melanie watched in awe as the humans moved about, their uniforms blurred as they moved about, rescuing borrowers from the building.

Melanie stopped watching the firefighters and realized just how dire her situation had become. The floor she was on was becoming unbearably hot, and her shoes were close to burning completely. The glass windows had deformed and shattered. Ash filled the air and clouded her vision. Melanie stumbled from room to room, trying to find a staircase or anyone else still in the building.

To her dismay, there wasn’t anyone around anymore. Everyone else had found a way up or down or had been evacuated. Melanie’s heart raced from fear and the debris in the air. Her lungs heaved as she tried to greedily suck in the uncontaminated air. How was she doing to get out of here?

Melanie crawled into a corner office and tried to get closer to the window. As much as she was uncomfortable around humans, she didn’t want to die in a fire in her first week on the job. “He… help!” She wheezed as she tried to press herself against the window that had somehow not cracked yet. “Help me, please…” she whispered. From her vantage point, she could see the fire captain holding up the building.

‘Would the building have collapsed if he wasn’t there?’ Melanie thought absently. And then, as if he could hear her thoughts, he turned to look at her. There was a brief silence where the world seemed to pause. Melanie took in his features. He had brown skin, perhaps a shade lighter than her own. His face was young, but confident, as if he was sure of his ability to perform his job perfectly. A few loose, black curls stuck out from underneath his helmet, and some freckles adorned his nose bridge. Maybe they were too small to see for humans, but Melanie could see each individual one.

And his eyes, a normal brown, looked so different to Melanie. Her own eyes were brown, but she had never seen such details on brown eyes. They held so much emotion. Their size amplified everything about them. They were beautiful; she would have taken note if she had a brain cell to devote to such whims at the time.

Instead, she peeled herself away from the window and crumpled down to the floor. The ash and lack of oxygen filling her lungs were finally catching up to her racing adrenaline. She coughed heavily as she greedily sucked in the air. The fire captain completely forgotten, Melanie focused on just staying alive at this point. The world was beginning to blur. Voices could be heard but she couldn’t discern them well.

A clear voice pierced her cloudy train of thought. “Hey. Listen, I’m going to get you out of there, okay? You’re going to be fine. Just keep breathing for me.” The voice was softer than before but undeniably was the captain’s voice. Melanie raised her head to peek back out the window. He was no longer holding the building but had come to be eye level with the window she was next to. And he was talking to her. Her entire body hurt, but she managed to give him a small nod, letting him know she understood.

He cracked a smile that eased her nerves slightly. “Alright. Hold on there, darling. I’m going to have to break the window to get to you. Do you think you can move a little ways away for me? Wouldn’t want to hurt you with the glass shattering,” he offered calmly. He smiled as he talked, which only served to make Melanie more frazzled. Now was not the time to be focusing on things like that.

Again, she mustered a nod. She begged her limbs to cooperate, and surprisingly, they did. With an immense effort, she crawled further away from the window, coughs rattling her tiny frame as she moved. She could feel the captain’s eyes on her, but not in a piercing way. His gaze was concerned, his expression soft. From her new position, she could only see his eyes. They visibly crinkled as he looked at her, and Melanie could tell he was smiling.

“Thank you,” He said softly. “Hold still, I’m getting you out of there.” Melanie watched through watery eyes as his giant hand approached the window. The window didn’t stand a chance. He gently tapped the glass and it immediately shattered. Melanie flinched and curled up into a little ball at the sound. As nervous as she was, she wanted nothing more than to be out of this hot, ashy, burning building. If letting this human carry her was the only way to safety, she was going to let it happen.

His gloved hand reached through the window, outstretched toward her. Melanie only noticed when she felt his textured glove wrapping around her. She could feel every fiber of his uniform. Although it was slightly uncomfortable and a bit scratchy, she preferred it to the hot office floor. His hand was warm, but not nearly as hot as the building. Carefully and gently, he pulled her out of the window to safety.

Melanie could tell that he was slowing his motions for her, and she greatly appreciated it. She wasn’t in a state to deal with any dizzying speeds. Now that she was out of the building, she finally took a breath of fresh air. She sat there in his palm, just catching her breath and getting her bearings. Her heart was still racing, but she was grateful to be out of danger.

The fire captain slowly raised his hand up to his face. She turned to face him and was once again staring into his deep brown eyes. His face was slightly more round, but still had a nice shape. “There we go. You’re safe now,” he whispered. She felt his gaze sweep over her as he checked her over, but she was too shy to meet his eyes. Instead, her eyes wandered over his uniform, noting the various details that adorned it. In her perusal, she found the last name that was written on his jacket: Ellis.

“You’re okay. You’re covered in ash, inside and out, but you’ll be alright. I’m glad I got to you in time,” Captain Ellis continued. Melanie tried to offer a thank you, but she only ended up coughing harshly. He could feel her body shaking from her coughs and he quickly intervened. “No, no, just focus on breathing. Don’t worry about talking right now. You’re safe. I got you, just breathe.”

Melanie felt a gentle touch on her back. He had reached out a finger to ever so carefully rubbed her back in an attempt to soothe her. It worked, leaving Melanie with butterflies in her stomach. How could someone so huge be so gentle? That same finger soon brushed particles of ash from her cheeks, his touch as delicate as a feather. She could feel herself relaxing as he continued, grateful to have some comfort after what just happened.

“Let’s go somewhere a bit safer,” he mused as he began to walk away from the smoldering building. He lowered his hand to chest height and held her close. His finger continued to stroke her back, offering a bit of solace. Melanie could feel herself relaxing more and more in his grip. Captain Ellis’ presence felt… comforting. After only knowing him for a few minutes, she could tell he genuinely cared about her.

Melanie had never been held by a human before, and now that she had calmed down a little she was taking the time to see the view. She looked around and realized just how high up she was. If she was being honest, she was a bit intimidated by the vastness of the city skyline from this new perspective. She scooted closer to the captain’s chest to feel more secure. As she looked up, she could see the ghost of a smile playing on his face. Her heart flipped again. Even though she couldn’t see his whole face from her vantage point, she knew his smile fit his face perfectly.

While Melanie was lost in her thoughts, Ellis hadn’t stopped talking. His voice was calming, only helping Melanie to relax more. Around the time she zoned back in, he was going over some details about the fire“… we’ll figure out how the fire started later. Everyone else made it out okay, if you were wondering. They’re just a little ways away. We’re almost there.” The gloved finger that had been stroking her back gently tapped her head a few times to grab her attention.

He looked down at her, his smile on full display. Melanie was grateful her blush didn’t show on her cheeks. “I’m Cameron Ellis, captain of station 151. And who might you be, darling?” He asked.

There it was again. That nickname. Darling. All Melanie felt were butterflies. However, she pulled herself together enough to give him a response. “I’m—“ she cleared her throat, her voice still hoarse from the ash in her lungs. “I’m Melanie Brooks,” she told him.

Cameron nodded in acknowledgment. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Melanie. I wish we could’ve met in different circumstances, though,” he said with a little chuckle. His laugh, deep and rumbling, suited him perfectly. It sent goosebumps down Melanie’s arms, and she wasn’t complaining.

She stifled a laugh of her own. “Likewise,” she said her voice a little stronger now. “Thank you for saving me. I… I’m not sure what I would’ve done if you weren’t there,” Melanie said, a grateful smile playing on her lips.

“Well, someone else in this squad would have saved you. I’m just lucky that I was the one to have that honor,” he said cooly. The two fell into comfortable small talk until they reached the area where the other borrowers and firefighters had gathered. Cameron slowly squatted down and lowered his hand to the floor. He made her feel so safe. Melanie almost didn’t want to get off. Nevertheless, she slid off his palm back onto the ground with the other borrowers.

Cameron gestured toward the borrower paramedics who also were at the scene. “They’ll make sure you’re okay and fix you up if not. You’re in good hands now.” He made a move to stand up but squatted back down. “If you ever need anything, you let me know,” he said warmly. Melanie nodded, her cheeks hot but not flushed. Satisfied with her response, Cameron stood up and began directing his divisions once again.

Melanie watched him walk away as his footsteps shook the ground beneath her. Oddly enough, it didn’t bother her this time. She smiled to herself before walking over to the paramedics with the other borrowers. She was feeling a little beside herself, and she wasn’t sure if it was because of the fire or Cameron. Regardless… she’d have time to see him again since she was on the job hunt again. Who knows? Maybe Cameron’s fire station needed a receptionist…

ENDINGS ENDINGS ENDINGS one day I will get better. anywayssss I'm sorry it took so long and lmk what you think!

#giant tiny #g/t #giant/tiny #size difference #giant #tiny #g/t writing #smol #she has a crush on him now #he's so gentle for her I can't #this is self indulgent af plz don't mind #borrower #gt community #borrowers #gianttiny #sfw gt #gt fluff

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nehswritesstuffs · 1 year ago

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banish every gaslight; let clarity shine - Part 8

Okay, I'm back! Hope everyone's ready to cry. :D

Part 1 [FFN/AO3] - Part 2 [FFN/AO3] - Part 3 [FFN/AO3] - Part 4 [FFN/AO3] - Part 5 [FFN/AO3] - Part 6 [FFN/AO3] - Part 7 [FFN/AO3]

As one sibling back home tries to make the best of things, the other two realize exactly what lengths Cora-san is willing to go for them. [3433 words; AU where there is a Third Corazón, whose existence makes Law’s life hell]

Baby 5 hid the Den Den Mushi in her hoodie as she made her way out of headquarters and over to the garbage dump. Although it was her job to stay behind that time, she wanted to make sure there was nothing that could watch or listen to her, just in case. It was really one of Law’s hoodies that she was wearing, her having started to wear them with him not around to protest. She found a good spot and took the snail out, giving it a piece of lettuce before making the call.

“Crackers.” The snail made the person on the other end look so tired. Why was he so tired?

“Cookies,” Baby 5 said. A moment’s pause and the snail peered at her.

“A… child…?”

“Um… I don’t know who you are, but Cora-san told me to call you,” she explained. “He said he needs me to tell you whenever the Young Master leaves Spider Miles. He left.”

“Cora-san…?”

“Yeah.” Her hands trembled as she held the snail in one hand and the receiver in the other. “I’m not allowed to ask questions. I’m not allowed to lie to you. I’m not allowed to let the others know I call you.”

The man—Baby 5 knew it was a man on the other end, because he sounded like Lao G if he was nicer and more tired—regarded this carefully. “Do you know who I am? Any idea?”

“I told you: no—Cora-san just told me to do this while he helps my brother and sister.”

“Does he have a snail I can contact him on?”

“No, sir. This was his only one. He said he’ll call you when he can.”

“Sounds like Rosi, alright.” The man gave a weak chuckle. “You are very brave, child. He chose well when he gave you this job.” He seemed to sigh heavily and there was the sound of papers shuffling. “Due to the unofficial shift in protocol, I am not going to ask your name. I shall refer to you as Child, and you can refer to me as Grandfather. Just keep doing this, alright? I am proud of you, Child.”

“Thank you, Grandfather.”

Baby 5 gave the man on the other end of the line the course of the Numancia Flamingo to the best of her ability before the line cut. The snail fell asleep and she held it close to her chest, trying to keep it warm as she went back to Headquarters.

What sort of people was Cora-san talking to, and why did they need that information? She put the snail back in its habitat before she went back to cleaning, wanting to make sure everything was nice and neat and orderly for the others to get back. They needed to not suspect anything.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

Months began to creep by and hospitals continued to burn, while information continued to be passed along. Baby 5 made it a habit of staying behind at the base when the rest of the Family was on missions, wrapped in her brother’s sweatshirts during the day and holding her sister’s stuffed animals at night. She felt the eyes of the other Family members as they would come home to a spotless headquarters and somehow knew their suspicions. Her being alone was not normal, so why was she alone so much now? Did they know she searched through their things for information? How long would it be before they discovered that Child was passing information to Grandfather, and that it was happening via Cora-san’s old transponder snail? What would it take for her cover to be blown and what would happen when it finally happened? Would they know it was all in the name of protecting her siblings?

There was only one way to find out, unfortunately.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

[CLASSIFIED]

Official Transcript of Military Den Den Communications – Operation: FALLEN DRAGON – File Number 01746.100059.1511.00234

Listen: I don’t have much time. There’s these five kids in Doffy’s group. Two of them are likely beyond help, but the middle three… no matter what, I need them to be saved. Whatever happens to me, you have to sa…

[INDECIPHERABLE]

She’s the one I gave the snail.

[INDECIPHERABLE]

…I know about [REDACTED] and what [REDACTED] did! Did you really think that was [REDACTED]

[INDECIPHERABLE]

Remember… it’s two girls and a boy. Raise them if I’m not there to do it. Please. I fear what Doffy will do to them if this all is blown to hell.

[INDECIPHERABLE]

They deserve so much more than this. We both know it.

[END COMMUNICATION]

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

It was very cold as Law and Lami sat huddled together on what seemed like a deserted island, waiting in the small alcove where Cora-san had told them to stay while he went somewhere. Law tried to wrap his cloak around his sister as well as himself and failed at getting more than half of her in the extra fabric.

“What do you think he’s doing?” she shivered. He tucked her head underneath his chin as coughs began to wrack her body.

“Hard saying,” he lied. He knew exactly what Cora-san was doing: trying to raid the pirate base that was on the other side of the island. Their adult had trusted him with the information in case anything went sour, because someone needed to get Lami out of there if the need arose. He had even left them with a knife, despite the fact he hoped they didn’t need to use it. “He better not be too long.”

“I want Bee-nee,” Lami sniffled. She rubbed her face in her brother’s shoulder and tried not to cry. “Why couldn’t Bee-nee come along?”

“It would be too much for Cora-san to travel with all three of us, remember?” Law said. He hugged his baby sister a bit tighter and hoped that Baby 5 had not been caught yet. “We’re gonna be okay—Cora-san will be the adult who helps.”

“You don’t believe that.”

“No… but it’s important that you do.” Lami began to sob, knowing that their time—her time specifically—was running out. “Hey, we’ll see Bee soon enough. Cora-san is gonna find that cure for us.”

“Why… why are you allowed to be sad about it, but I can’t?!” she cried. “I’m scared, Law-nii! I’m so scared!”

“I know you are, but you have to know it’s gonna be okay, no matter what,” he replied. He went back into his memory for words of comfort from before… from when they had both their parents and school and friends and… fuck… it had been a wonderful life, hadn’t it? There was something too calm about it, as though it was just the peace one felt before a storm came barreling through. Was finding their sister just the eye of the storm? Was that Cora-san? Damned if he knew. “Everything happens for a reason…”

“It’s not reasonable!” she snapped tearfully. “Don’t say things the sisters said! It doesn’t make me feel better!”

“It doesn’t make you feel better because you know they were right!” he fired back. She looked at him, her eyes puffed up from crying, and didn’t know how to respond. “They were right! I don’t know how, but they were! Do you think I like not knowing how?! Do you think I like not knowing the reason?! It’s fucked up, yeah, but what else do we have?! If none of this had happened, we would have never met Bee! Or Cora-san! We’d still be in Flevance, having never seen anything beyond her waters! Nothing changing!”

“…but we’d still have Mom and Dad! Our family! Our friends!”

“…and we could still be dead anyhow! People die every day from things not bullets or poison! Kids, even! If we hadn’t needed to escape, we would have never gotten here, and I’d rather be here knowing more than I did then instead of dying ignorant! I don’t know why, but we were meant to live this!”

That set off Lami again, fresh tears flowing from her. Law gathered her in his arms and pulled her into his lap, which better allowed him to pull his cloak around her as she sobbed into his shoulder. He grit his teeth as he tried to hold back his own tears, wanting to be the strong one… needing to be the strong one…

“Kids! Kids! Where’d you go?!” Both of them gasped and went to wipe the tears and snot from their faces—it was Cora-san! He stumbled into the snow in front of them, looking exhausted and rather worse for wear.

“What happened to you?!” Law gasped. Shit—it had taken fewer bullet wounds to kill both his parents.

“That doesn’t matter,” the man said. He took a heart-shaped fruit out of his coat pocket and held it out. “This is what we were looking for… this is what Doffy was looking for…”

“That’s a Devil Fruit…?” Lami wondered. “It doesn’t look like any fruit I’ve ever seen…”

“It’s a really special thing,” Cora-san explained. “It’s gonna help Law fix you both up, good as new.”

“…but Cora-san, I…!” Law began to protest, only for their caretaker to shove the fruit into his mouth, forcing him to eat it. “Oh, gross! Why the fuck did you do that?!”

“I sure as fuck couldn’t do anything with it, even if I hadn’t eaten my own Devil Fruit,” Cora-san smirked. Although Law was still freaking out over the nasty, meaty taste of what had just been force-fed to him, Lami saw the intense sadness in Cora-san’s eyes… he knew something sad and wasn’t telling them. “You’re the one who’s going to become a great doctor some day, Law. It’s supposed to be yours.”

Just then, the three of them could hear men shouting off in the distance, making them tense.

“Okay, you two find a place that’s not here,” Cora-san ordered gently. “I’ll find you soon as I can guarantee that we can make a clean getaway. Then you’ll be free.”

“Free…?” Lami wondered as they stood.

“Yeah,” he nodded. “Free of this disease, free of Doffy, free of everything you never wanted. You can rescue Baby 5 and the three of you will be freer than anyone on this sea. Do you understand…?”

“I think so…?”

“Good. Now be good brats, for fucking once in your lives.” At that he scrambled off, the kids just barely able to catch him pulling out one of his guns before he turned a corner.

“Asshole,” Law hissed. “Didn’t even ask me if I wanted it…” He saw that Lami was staring at him as they ran and he swallowed hard. “What…?”

“Do you feel any different…?” she asked. He stopped to look at his hands, brow furrowed.

“No, but…” He trailed off, desperately attempting to put what he was feeling into words. “It’s like… the Devil Fruit is trying to tell me what I can do…?”

“Really…?”

“Yeah.” He closed his eyes and breathed deeply, trying to figure out what was attempting to be said.

Heed me, boy, and I shall make you powerful.

Eyes snapping open, Law looked at his sister with a nearly crazed expression. “Lami, hold still; I’m gonna try it on you first.”

“Why?”

“You’re the one with days left,” he replied. The siblings hugged tightly before Law had Lami lay down in the snow, hidden from the snowy path they’d been on. He held his hands palm-down over her and took a deep breath.

“ROOM!”

Suddenly, a blue sphere grew from Law’s hands and enveloped the both of them. Once that was up, he took Cora-san’s knife and held it to his sister’s arm. He pressed down and it made an incision… one that didn’t bleed.

It was working.

Law quickly worked, taking what he knew to be Amber Lead out of his sister’s body. There was so much of it, but he didn’t stop. He couldn’t stop. The only time he did was for thirty seconds, tearing off a bit of his cloak for her to bite on to help with the pain. Okay… anesthetic… he needed to remember that for next time…

Then, all of a sudden, the Room dropped and Law collapsed in the snow. He and Lami were breathing heavily as they looked at each other, both afraid for the other to speak. With a shaky hand, he held up a small rock, not much bigger than a decorative pond pebble. It was much more jagged and rough-looking, however, and a reddish brown where it did not gleam whiter than the snow.

“Five years,” he said shakily. “This should give you five more years.”

“Yeah…?” There were tears in their eyes—that would make her older than he was now.

“Yeah.”

“Fuck, there you kids are!” The siblings looked and saw Cora-san was clamoring over towards them, snow stuck to his hair and coat. “Doffy and his crew are nearly here—I can’t let them find you!”

“Cora-san, look!” Lami gasped. She took the pebble from her brother’s hand and held it up. “Law took this out of me!”

“Wait… you did…?” he marveled. He looked at Law, the boy nodding weakly in the snow as hot tears ran down his face.

“She’s gonna be at least fourteen,” he sniffled. “My sister is going to live!”

“Oh… that’s great!” Cora-san replied through tears of his own. He gathered the children up in his arms and they all shared a hug. “We’re going to get through this—just a little bit longer, and we’ll be free. I promise.”

“Cora-san…?” Lami squeaked. She was clammy with sweat and breathing heavily. “Can we go get Bee-nee? And then we can live somewhere nice?”

“I’m sure you will,” he replied, but she shook her head.

“No, you too, Cora-san!” she insisted. “You can be our dad! And we can live together! All four of us!” She gripped his shirt as her breath became staggered. “The four of us can be each other’s new family!”

“Lami…” Law touched his baby sister’s shoulder and she whimpered. “Is that what you want?”

“Yeah!” She looked at him, then at Cora-san, whose makeup was running from his own tears and sweat. “We can have a real parent again, and Law-nii can continue learning how to be a doctor, and Bee-nee and I can figure out what we want to do, and we’ll all do the best thing we can to make the people who tried to kill us suffer!”

“…and what’s that?” Cora-san asked, his voice wavering.

“We can live!”

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

“Remember something kids: I love you!”

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

A heavy thud rammed against Law’s treasure chest as Cora-san was shot—one, two, three, four, five—making the blood in his veins run cold.

Cora-san! You can’t! Law barely heard the order to leave the Corazón for dead and take the treasure. He pressed his limbs to the wooden walls in panic when he felt the chest being lifted up—this was it! His entire world, dark and filled with fear, swayed with the movement of… yeah, Machvise’s steps as he was carried off and away from the scene of the crime.

It was just like three years ago, when he and his sister hid from their executioners in plain sight, except this time they were in separate hiding spots. Cora-san had been reluctant to do it, but they would not fit together in the biggest chest, and besides… he didn’t want Doflamingo’s crew to take what they thought was the most valuable haul, only to get something invaluable instead. Law kept his mind focused—the clearer he could make decisions, the quicker he could grab Lami, get back to Cora-san, and they could begin figuring out a way to rescue Baby 5.

“Is that everything? Good. Let’s make sure we have enough space first…”

Law listened closely for signs that the Doflamingo Pirates were all occupied before lifting the lid off his treasure chest and carefully slipping out. He couldn’t tell which one had Lami in it before he heard Trebol attempting to swallow the innards of his nasal cavity—he couldn’t get caught! Not yet! He ducked behind a nearby pile of rocks, there already being prints going over there he could step in to hide his tracks. Sure enough, there was a yellow divot against the cliff-face—apparently the ship’s latrine was just too far an ask…

Just then, Law heard the telltale whizzing sound of cannonballs hurtling towards them. They hit the cliff-face opposite him with two loud explosions; it was the Marines.

That’s right… Doflamingo had accused Cora-san of being a Marine, not only by the treasure chests, but after they stole a burner snail a few weeks ago as well. Law and Lami had even accused Cora-san of being a Marine. The only problem was: if Cora-san really was a Marine, then who was he having Baby 5 talk to over the transponder snail? Was she caught? Did she get in trouble? Had… had Doflamingo found out because Baby 5 told him…? It made him sick to think about…

“Leave the rest!” Doflamingo snapped. “We have to get out of here!”

At once, everyone scrambled to board the Numancia Flamingo and escape what was most likely Vice-Admiral Tsuru and her command. Law remained hidden behind the rocks while he waited for them to leave, seeing that they had truly left behind much of the load. Ha… Doflamingo was going to be pissed when they returned to Spider Miles…

Before long, the ships were off in the distance, the only evidence they were even around being the distant sounds of cannonfire. Law shuddered as he heard himself let out a sniffle—Cora-san was dead.

Shit! Shit, shit, shit! The teen began to tremble as he realized that things were going to become infinitely more difficult. Having to go rescue Baby 5 with just him and Lami wasn’t completely out of the question, but it was going to take a lot longer than it would have otherwise. He waited until he couldn’t hear the ships anymore before standing up and poking his head out from behind the rocks.

“Lami…?” He carefully picked his way over towards the heaps of discarded treasure and began to search through what remained. It looked like a lot of the chests were weighed down by rocks as just another way for one brother to get back at another. “Lami…? Where are you…?”

As Law continued looking through the chests, a sense of dread settled over him. Lami wasn’t answering, nor was she in any of the other chests. He got to the last one and asked whatever might be listening to let her be inside…

…and found rocks.

“Lami…?!” Law dropped to his knees and cried, knowing that the worst thing must have happened: she must have been taken aboard the Numancia. “LAMI! NO! YOU CAN’T—!” He stopped to vomit, hot and burning over his tongue and throat.

His sister was gone.

He was alone.

His sister was still dying and there was nothing he could do.

He was alone.

His sister was somewhere off in the far-reaching, icy sea, far beyond where he could feasibly go on his own.

He was alone.

His sister was going to suffer.

He was alone… truly alone.

All while she remained trapped.

Once all the contents of his stomach were melting the snow, Law scrambled onto his feet and began to stumble away. His legs were shaky and he felt like hell, but he kept going—the Marines were likely to come back and he didn’t want to be there if they did. He couldn’t go chasing after the Numancia and rescue Lami in the state he was in, barely able to stand upright or move of his own volition.

If this was freedom, then he didn’t want it.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

It was difficult for Lami to hear outside of the treasure chest—she wasn’t sure what was going on or where she was, but she had the feeling that she should not move… not until her brother opened the lid and took them both away. The chest had moved a couple of times, which made her cautious, because she didn’t know what sort of place she was going to escape from. All she needed to do was wait until the right time and…

…except, the lid lifted on its own, only for a confused-looking Gladius to be staring down at her. Not Law. Gladius. Not Law. Someone else. Not Cora-san. He was dead.

It was not Law.

She was not free.

#One Piece #fan fiction #fanfiction #Trafalgar Law #Baby 5 #Donquixote Rosinante #Donquixote Pirates #Donquixote Doflamingo #I really enjoy how Baby 5 gets to come into her own in this fic. just saying #lol she's got the brother hoodie fit going on lol that's a good fit #there is also no way Law and Lami were taught by nuns and survived w/o some version of Catholic guilt #my source: being Catholic and having gone to Catholic school (despite the fact none of my teachers were nuns (long story))#(I know OP has Nika not Jesus but work with me here okay?)#Trafalgar D. Water Law #Trafalgar D. Water Lami #Trafalgar Lami #...and please don't ask me about opla i know nothing about opla yet my watch party is in a couple days

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alasse-earfalas · 2 years ago

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This is a bit of original fiction I wrote a few years ago. It's heavily based on real events and struggles, written from the PoV of one of my alts (who, despite the name and similar appearance, has nothing to do with Skyward Sword). Been thinking about this lately and wondering if this is common for ADHD or if it's a combination of that and dissociation.

Sky says "hi and if you have any questions please feel free to ask, I don't bite 🙂".

===

Sky snapped back to reality when he heard the garage door open. He blinked, staring at the page in front of him.

How long had he spaced out this time? He checked the clock.

Three hours.

He rested his head on the blank piece of paper as he heard his mother walk in and set her things down. He’d have to explain to her that he hadn’t gotten anything done. Again. He wondered in a fit of panic if she would decide to not let him go to the family reunion, simply out of sheer frustration.

A deep ache sounded in his heart. Why? Why couldn’t he just focus? No, that wasn’t it. He knew the answer to that question well enough. He was on medication for his ADHD, and it was, supposedly, helping. He did find it kind of easier to focus when he took it, he guessed. But this daydreaming! His meds did nothing to help with that.

“Hey sweetie?” he heard his mother call out as she approached his room. “You get your homework done?”

What did she care? Sky slumped back in his chair. She was never home anyway. Neither of his parents were.

“Sky?” his mom said, poking her head into his room. “How’s the homework coming?”

“I’m not done yet,” he said tiredly.

“Well how much do you have left to do?”

Sky hesitated. “A lot.”

Sky winced at his mother’s all too familiar sigh. “Well, you know you can’t go to the family reunion this year unless you get all caught up,” she said.

“I know.”

“Did you take your medication today?”

“Yes.”

There was an awkward pause. “Well, alright then.” She started walking away from his room. “Better get working on it if you want to go this year!”

He did want to go. He desperately wanted to go. But no matter how much he wanted to go, he simply could not get himself to focus. It was like his mind was rebelling against him. He could do the work; that wasn’t the problem. If he could just focus he could knock these assignments out in no time.

Sky rubbed his face, then picked up his pencil and looked at the first problem. If he didn’t get all of this done by tomorrow, he couldn’t go. He had to focus.

A thought drifted in into Sky’s mind. The reason he wanted to go to the reunion so bad was because his favorite cousin would be there. Sky was an only child, and he didn’t really have a friend group at school. There were a few people he could hang out with, but they were all part of different groups. Sky typically sat by himself at lunch and didn’t really go to school events (outside of those required by his classes) because he was always so busy trying to get his homework done. He hadn’t been able to go to a family reunion in two years—or was it three?—because he’d been given the same ultimatum: catch up on his homework, or he couldn’t go. Sky wondered if his cousin Billy even remembered him. He smiled. He remembered having a lot of fun hanging around Billy. He wished they could hang out more often, but they lived so far away from each other.

The garage door opened again. Sky blinked, then glanced at the clock. He groaned, planting his face on his hands. Half an hour. It felt like thirty seconds, maybe, but it had been sixty times that. That was probably his dad getting home. His dad had to leave town a lot for his job. His mom worked locally. Sky spent most days by himself.

It wasn’t long before his parents’ bickering started. It didn’t matter what the subject was, really. Sky tried to tune it out and actually, finally, please, focus on his assignment. The bickering progressed in into yelling and slammed doors. Sky stood up and shut his bedroom door, then sat back down. It muffled the sound some. With every ounce of willpower he could muster, Sky forced himself to read the first problem. Every half second a new, interesting thought would assault his mind, and every single time he’d have to fight it to get it to go away.

Twenty minutes went by like this. It was enough time for him to get one past-due math assignment done. Sky set down his pencil and slumped back in his chair. He was already exhausted. Not from the math—the math was easy, he could do that in his sleep. He was the brain in class that the teacher opted to leave off the bell curve out of kindness to the other students. No, it wasn’t the math.

It was the concentrating. Having to fight off every. Little. Insignificant thought that flitted into his mind.

Sky took the finished assignment and placed it very carefully inside his math folder. If he didn’t do this now, he’d lose it, and it would all have been for nothing. He had to have rigid organization and rituals for everything, otherwise his life would just dissolve into chaos.

He noticed that his pencil needed sharpening. He dug around in his backpack for his pencil case. Opened it.

Where was the pencil sharpener?

Sky looked around his cluttered desk. Looked through the drawers. Sighing, he got up. He knew there was a pencil sharpener in his dad’s office he could use. He picked up his water cup, figuring he might as well fill that up since he was going out anyway.

His parents’ argument had died down, but he still tried to be as invisible as possible to avoid being dragged into another one. He walked to the kitchen sink and refilled his cup. On the way back he caught a glimpse of what was on television. His mother was watching one of those reality shows. Sky didn’t really care for them anymore. The cast members were all getting ready to participate in some kind of group challenge. The course looked interesting. Sky wondered what he would’ve done, if he had been there. As the countdown began, Sky started coming up with strategies, how he’d go about it, who he’d have do what job, which part he’d focus on first—

“Sky.”

His eyes re-glued themselves to the screen. Everyone was starting to move. Some teams were rushing to one task, some teams to another—

The sound from the TV suddenly died. “Sky!”

Sky, finally in control again, blinked, then looked at his mother, embarrassed. “Yeah?”

“I asked you how the homework’s going?”

“Oh, I’ve got one assignment done.”

She scowled at him. “Just one since I’ve been home?”

Sky shrank. He nodded.

“Alright, well, you know what the consequences are.” She turned back to the TV.

Sky hurriedly left the room before she could turn the sound back on.

Sky set his water down on the desk before plopping down into his chair. He checked his list of assignments. Looks like he had a worksheet to fill out about a book he was supposed to be reading.

Where did he put that? Sky turned his chair around and scanned the room. Was it by his nightstand? He got up to check. No, it wasn’t there. Maybe his bookshelf? He walked over to the bookshelf. He didn’t see his assigned book, but he saw another book he’d been meaning to read. He pulled it from the shelf and flipped it open to the bookmark. It was a fascinating read, all about these mutant kids who’d escaped from a lab and had to go after an evil sorcerer.

Some time later, Sky heard a knock on his door. “Yes?” he called.

“Dinner’s ready.”

“Okay.” As Sky turned his gaze away from the door, he caught sight of his desk.

Oh. Right.

Whoops.

Sky shoved the bookmark back in the book and put the book back on the shelf. Suddenly he remembered: that’s right, he’d put the assigned book in his backpack. He’d have to check there later.

Sky went out to the kitchen. “How’s the homework coming?” his dad asked.

“I got a math assignment done,” Sky said as he grabbed a plate.

“That’s good,” his dad said. “How much more do you have to do?”

Sky grimaced. “A lot.”

“You mean you got another math assignment done?” his mother asked.

Sky kept adding food to his plate. It gave him an excuse to avoid eye contact as he shook his head.

His mother launched into her typical spiel. Sky knew the basic gist: what was taking him so long, didn’t he know it was better to get his work done before he relaxed, clearly he didn’t want to go to the family reunion, didn’t he understand how important his grades were. And then, the doozy: “You’re so smart, but I swear you act so stupid sometimes!”

Sky walked silently to his room. He could feel his cheeks getting hot. He closed the door behind him, sat down at his desk, and cried.

Yes, he knew how important school was. Yes, of course he wanted to go to the family reunion; what was the point of using that to supposedly motivate him if he didn’t want to go? And yes, he was smart. He knew he was smart. He just couldn’t focus to save his life.

Sky brought himself up to his elbows and wiped his eyes. What assignment had he been doing again? He checked his assignment list. Right, the book worksheet. He rummaged through the designated “books” pocket of his backpack.

The book wasn’t there.

After a few seconds of mild panic, Sky found the book in a different pocket. Right, he’d had to rush out of class, so he didn’t have time to put it back in the right pocket. Sky pulled the worksheet over and began going through the questions. The first one seemed simple enough. Sky grabbed his pencil.

Right. It still needed to be sharpened.

Sky checked his backpack again to no avail. Finally he relented, stood up and walked out of his room. After sharpening his pencil, on his way back to his room, he got stuck watching the TV again.

“Sky?”

Sky barely even registered that someone was speaking to him.

The sound on the TV died again. “Sky!”

Sky jumped. “Oh, yeah?”

“Do you need something?” his dad asked.

“Oh, no,” Sky said.

“Then go do your homework!”

Sky nodded, then left quickly.

Back at his desk, sharpened pencil in hand, Sky sat down, determined to focus. As he was re-reading the question (he’d forgotten it since getting up to sharpen his pencil), he began absent-mindedly bouncing his pencil on the desk. He started watching his pencil, surprised at how high it bounced off the eraser rubber. Sky wondered how high he could drop it from. How high could he get it to bounce?

After a thorough ten-minute study of the bounciness of pencil erasers, Sky’s pencil fell on the floor and rolled out of reach. Sky stood up to grab his pencil, which jolted his mind back to what he was supposed to be doing.

Homework. Right. But first, he was hungry, and everyone knows it’s not good to try to think on an empty stomach.

When his parents checked on him half an hour later, he still hadn’t gotten any more work done. He ended up staying up almost three hours past his bedtime, desperately trying to catch up on his homework. Finally he got so mentally exhausted that he just couldn’t think anymore. He tried to push himself past even that point, but doing so was clearly, obviously getting him nowhere.

Getting up in the morning was going to be a pain, he thought as he set his alarm for the next morning. He really hoped he didn’t accidentally turn off his alarm in the morning before falling back to sleep. He hoped his alarm would wake him up at all!

He dutifully packed his backpack, then took his plate to the sink and finished getting ready for bed. One day. That was all the time he had left to get his homework done. He tried to think of time in class or during lunch that he might be able to get a few things done. The more he could get done at school, the better. He found it easier to focus there for whatever reason.

As he drifted off to sleep, Sky thought about why he was so adamant about going to the family reunion in the first place: his cousin, Billy. Sky didn’t really have anyone else he felt like he could talk to. Maybe he couldn’t talk to Billy anymore, either. Maybe his cousin had changed since the last time they saw each other. Worry began to creep in. What if he thought Sky was stupid now? What if he thought he was weird, and avoided him, just like everyone at school did? He’d had friends in earlier grades, but it was like they grew out of him, or something. Sky didn’t really understand it. He thought he was a pretty nice guy. But he felt awkward in groups, like he was out of the loop. Like he was always missing some crucial bit of information, some social handbook that everyone else had access to.

His thoughts began to be muddled. It was the first sign that he was falling asleep, and the last thing he remembered before doing so.

#adhd #dissociative identity disorder #original fiction #based on real events #school was hell #and now I'm back in school so all of that trauma is surfacing #writing #alasse writes

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