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messedupfan · 6 months ago

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Chapter 18

Summary: Wanda has been seeing someone. Daisy reconnects with Reader. Jean and Anna have special plans.

A/n: Heeeyy, please don't hate me. Enjoy!

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Wanda checks her watch nervously. She had arrived at the office thirty minutes early to mentally prepare for the appointment. She wasn't sure what she was going to discover in that room. All she knew was that the idea made her feel ill. Her mind jumps to all of the people she slept with and she begins to feel like an idiot. Her leg bounces nervously as she thinks about how she will be judged by the doctor. It won't happen in front of her but she's almost certain it will happen.

“Wanda Maximoff?” Her head snaps up at her name being called. “I'm ready to see you now.” Wanda nods and rises as she collects her things. She was going to be fine. Agatha swears by therapy. She was going to be fine. This was the next step to getting better and getting on with her life.

You are standing in the backyard of your former home. “You wanted to show me my own craft space?” You ask with arms crossed over your chest.

“No, we wanted to show you our future craft space,” Jean says and Anna waves her arms around as she presents a stack of boxes where your tools and materials used to be laid out.

“What's this? You know that I need the space when I get an order. I know it’s been a while but it’s not just for me. I’ve been able to help you guys with the money I make from this side job. It’s not some frivolous hobby,” you walk around the room.

“Yes, well, it’s actually been a year – close to a year and I’m pretty sure we were your last customers,” Jean says. “Besides, since we’re going to have all of this time we thought would be occupied by a baby… We want to make it into a craft space.”

You clamp your mouth shut as you look at the boxes. It wasn’t fair for them to throw that in your face but this scenario was eerily similar to the one you’d witnessed with Wanda’s basement and Vision. You couldn’t stoop as low as that man so you sighed and nodded. “Okay, can you give me time to find somewhere to store it all? I don’t have the space right now.”

“Sure,” Jean says, “just please don’t take too long. I have a lot of idea’s and I’m excited. Well. We’re excited.” She pulls her wife close to her and the two share a kiss. You find their behavior to be odd but you don’t think about it too much.

“Okay,” you drag out. “I should get going. I need to do some grocery shopping and make some phone calls to see who will be willing to store my things until I can find a better place.” You walk through the gate to get to your car as they allow you to go. You scroll through your contacts to see who you can trust with your tools and supplies. You pause for a moment when you see Daisy’s contact. You know that you didn’t love her the way she deserved but it still hurt to see her name. You decide to leave that task for when you’re home because you needed to focus.

You walk around the store with this nagging feeling that you should contact Daisy for some reason. You didn’t understand it. In the time since she ended things with you, you haven’t wanted to contact her once. Maybe it was because things with Wanda have crashed and burned alive. You don’t know, but you had to fight it because it wouldn’t be fair for you to try and insert yourself in her life again. As you shop you recignize her friend and you can’t stop yourself from saying hi. Because you mistakenly feel as though that would be rude. “Hey, Jemma!” You greet with as smile.

Her eyes go wide and she almost runs but instead turns around smiles back. “Y/n, it’s been a while. How have you been?”

You take a deep breath as you mentally run through the chaotic months you’d been having. “I’ve been better,” you nod. “Yeah, um, how have you been?”

She makes a face and narrows her eyes at you, “Let’s not waste our time here. I’m not the person you want to know about. Am I?”

You’re surprised by the implication and you shake your head. “No, I’m genuinely curious about you. I wouldn’t ever put you in a position to update me about Daisy. She made it very clear that she wanted me out of her life.”

Jemma’s eyes scan you and she nods. “I’ve been well. Daisy, however, not so much. I’m telling you this because she is going to reach out to you soon. As much as I don’t like you, you do deserve the warning.”

Your eyebrows twitch and you frown slightly, that was not what you expected to hear. “Oh, I hope I can help her with whatever it is. I just… She’s not going to try and get back together right?”

Jemma bursts out laughing and you smile and nod as she makes a big show of her amusement. “I’ve forgotten how funny you are!” She points at you with a grin. “No! She doesn’t want you back!”

“I’m sorry,” you say as you try not to roll your eyes at her reaction. It was unnecessary. “Just, let her know that she can contact me whenever she wants. I’ll see you around, Jemma. Or maybe I won’t.” You walk away and continue to shop for the week. You go home and put your groceries away and don’t think about Daisy the rest of the day.

Wanda sits in her office and goes over her budget proposal for the project she was assigned. The company has been trying to score her former in-law’s as a client for years. She knew Stark Industries was a big corporation when she married into the family. It’s what paid for this house. It’s what allowed her to not work for six months. It’s what has paid for her new land. But for some reason she still feels weird about using her relationship to the Starks to help this company land them as a client. It made her realize why they probably hired her in the first place even with the unexplained unemployment gap after being fired from her previous firm. She runs through the proposal a couple more times and hopes that this doesn’t create a rift with the people she was getting to build a healthier relationship with.

When she feels confident about the proposal she sets it aside and starts to work on the digital blueprint of her dream home. It has gone from sketches to utilizing the program on her computer to draft together a more visual representation of what she wants her house to look like. She has lots of windows and an open floor plan. She knows where she wants a dining room and how she wants the kitchen to look like. The second floor has a den space and an office space and multiple bedrooms. Then she considers adding a third floor but thinks it might be too much.

She starts to shuffle the rooms around and considers moving the office to the ground floor. Then she adds a basement. Then she takes it away. She plays around with the design until her stomach grumbles and she is reminded that she has to eat. She shut down her work and walks downstairs to make herself something to eat. As she sets out ingredients, she fantasizes about you standing in the kitchen helping her. She wonders if you'd wrap your arms around her and kiss her cheek as she chopped vegetables. She thinks about how easily she could melt against your body. She allows herself to think about moments she could have with you without making herself feel guilty about it. She's tired of feeling guilty for wanting a better life for herself.

As she lays on the couch and watches a show that she has been binging lately she mindlessly traces the letters M, I, N, E, on her upper thigh. In her mind, it's a memory of you, but really it's only another fantasy. She doesn't know why she can't just give in. She doesn't know why she pushes you away. She knows she shouldn't have but she also knows that she probably would have hurt you. She takes a deep breath and sighs.

She walks up to her bed as her mind prepares her for waking up early the next morning. The mental checklist of what she has to take care of tomorrow. What she should wear for her meeting with Tony. What she should make herself for breakfast, lunch and dinner. Should she go out? Should she anticipate Tony offering to take her to lunch?

She thinks about the therapy sessions she has scheduled for the next several weeks. She thinks about wanting to hang out with her friends. Then as she closes her eyes, she thinks about you and a small smile lifts up her lips.

You are getting ready to take your lunch break when your phone goes off in your pocket. Your heart leaps into your throat when Daisy’s image covers your screen. You answer and start walking away from the job site. “Hello?” You say into the phone. There is a loud drilling sound and someone starts banging a hammer on a wall. “Hold on, I can’t hear you. One second please.” You cross the street and keep walking until you find a quiet area. You sit down on a park bench. “Okay, I can hear you now. Um, hey,” you say as you remove your hardhat. “This is a surprise. How are you?”

“Is it a surprise? Jemma told me that she warned you I might contact you,” Daisy says.

“Uh, she did say that but I wasn’t sure when to expect your call. So it is still a surprise,” you reply as you run your fingers through your hair. “She also warned me that you’re not doing too well. Is there something I can do for you?” Daisy goes quiet and you think that the call has dropped, you move the phone from your face to check but the sunlight makes it difficult to tell. “Hello?”

“I’m here,” she sighs and you can tell that she is trying to hide that she is crying. You take a deep breath as you brace yourself for what she might tell you. Maybe Phil is terminally ill. Maybe her mom passed. Maybe this, maybe that.

“I’m here for you,” you tell her. “No matter what, it’s okay. You can tell me.”

“I,” her voice cracks and you wish that you could do something more than sit here on the phone with her. “What I need to talk to you about is better done in person,” she finally says through her sniffles.

“Okay, um where do you want to meet?” You ask. “I don’t have Rachel this week so you could come over to my place because it's a lot more private than yours or if you don’t want privacy I can go to your place after work. Um or we can meet somewhere public. I’m willing to do whatever you need.” You softly offer her options. Your heart is pounding from the anticipation. What could be so bad that she had to see you in person?

“I’m okay with coming over to your place,” she replies.

“Okay,” you state, “does seven-thirty work for you? I’ve been working twelve to thirteen hour shifts to pay those pesky hospital bills.”

“Seven-thirty works,” she answers. “I’ll see you then.”

“I’ll see you then,” you say as the call ends. You sit on that park bench a little bit longer as you fear what Daisy has to say. What could she possibly be holding on to? What has her in tears? What can’t she say over the phone? Your mind races as you eat your lunch. It continues to run as you get back to work and think about what Daisy needs help with.

Wanda laughs with Tony as they sit together in a nice restaurant. Her pitch went well and Tony said that he would consider hiring her for the project. Then he offered to take her to lunch to celebrate. Now the two were discussing highlights of Vision’s finest moments during past holidays. “Oh, remember that time he convinced your dad to let him cut the turkey and he nearly cut his finger off?” Wanda says.

“How could I forget? I’m the one who pointed out that there couldn’t be that much blood on a turkey!” Tony laughs as he lifts his glass from the table and swirls it around. He shakes his head. “I have no clue how I’m related to that man.”

“I don’t know either,” Wanda says. “You are way more fun to be around,” she compliments and they clink their glasses together as they cheers to that.

“You know, Wanda,” Tony starts as he leans in closer. “Why are you wasting your talents working for a company like Nexus Developments? You are family,” he puts his hand on top of Wanda’s. “We could have helped you land a job with the company we usually use or hell, we could have made a branch for you.”

Wanda taps Tony’s hand as she pulls away and slumps back into her seat. “I know that you would have. But I couldn’t ask that of you or your family. Vision would have made it about him some how and lately,” she shakes her head as she feels tears building up. She takes a deep breath. “Lately, whenever your brother doesn’t get his way, my kids pay a price. Hell, even when he does get his way, my kids still suffer.”

Tony nods and takes a drink from his glass, he sighs as the aged scotch goes down smoothly. “I understand your position. Just know that if you ever need help, we are still here for you. Vision can go fuck himself,” he tells her. Wanda laughs a softly as she agrees with his statement. “Who knows, maybe I’ll be able to convince you into a Maximoff and Stark partnership once again. This one being a profitable business instead of an emotional headache.”

Wanda shrugs, “We’ll see. The future is quite unpredictable after all.”

As you walk through the your apartment building you run through the possibilities of the impending conversation over and over in your mind. The scenarios don’t stop until you see Daisy pacing in front of your door. You check the time on your watch and fill with relief that you’re not late, she’s early.

“Hey,” you say as you sort through your keys to find the one that will unlock the door. Daisy startles as you announce your presence. “Sorry, I didn't mean to,” you notice that she doesn't look too good and you just move to open the door. “Let's just,” you hold it open for her and she walks right past you. “Would you like anything to drink? Water maybe?”

Daisy shakes her head. “No, I don't know how long you'll want me in here after I tell you what I need to tell you.”

You make a face, unsure what she could possibly say that would have you kicking her out of your home. “I have a feeling this is something we should sit for. Come on,” you sit down on the couch and wipe the sweat from your forehead.

“Are you sure you don’t want to shower first? You’ve been working hard all day and I know you how much you hate sitting in–” Daisy rambles on as she paces the living room and you have to cut her off.

“Daisy, I hate waiting even more,” you tell her. “Come, sit,” you pat the space next to you on the sofa.

Daisy stands still and frowns at you. “No you don’t. You are the most patient person I know.”

You nod your head slowly, “I can be patient, that’s true. But I still hate waiting.” You admit to her. “I’ve been worried about you all day, Daisy. I don’t want to be pushy but I want to be able to help you. I can’t do that if you don’t stop stalling and tell me what’s wrong.”

Daisy sits next to you and drops her face into her hands. You sit there and wait for her to collect her thoughts and say something. Anything that will explain her behavior. You bounce your leg as your body decides to show your impatience. The movement has Daisy moving her hands from her face through her hair. “The night we broke up I,” the area around her eyes are red and her nose is pink. She doesn't face you because she can't say this and have you look at her differently. She doesn't know where you stand on a topic like this because every conversation the two of you had on the matter was purely hypothetical. She wanted to keep this to herself because she didn't want you to change in her eyes. She likes you the way you are. “I found out that I had um, sorry this is difficult for me to say.”

You hold your hand out to her, “Daisy, it's okay. Whatever it is,” you trail as she turns her head away from you. “Are you sick?” You ask softly as her shoulders shake.

She turns her head to stare in front of her as she shakes her head and wipes her tears. “No, I'm not sick. That's not the kind of results I had received,” she reaches for the box of tissues in the coffee table and blows her nose. “I found out that I was pregnant,” she finally says.

You feel your heart stop beating and drop to your stomach. You grow nauseous at the news. “Oh,” you grab onto the arm of the couch as if you're going to faint. “I um,” you blink a couple of times. “Is it someone else's?” The words stumble out before you can process the implication.

“I never cheated on you,” she states sharply and she looks at you this time.

“I'm sorry, I shouldn't have… I mean, can you blame me for asking? You didn't tell me until today. You broke up with me instead of telling me. I can't think of why you would do that unless the baby wasn't mine or —” you stop talking as you look at her and clamp your mouth shut. Daisy avoids your eye contact as you recall her behavior that night. She didn't want to be a mother. She kept telling you that as she tried to leave. “Oh,” you react again. The tension in your body releases and you try to figure out how you can address this conversation respectfully. “You decided not to go through with the um the uh pregnancy? Is that what you're telling me?” You try to keep your tone even and your features neutral, trying to avoid showing any insensitive emotions out of respect.

Daisy closes her eyes as she starts to sob. “I couldn't go through with it. I'm not ready.” She says through her tears. You nod your head because you don't know what to do or how to properly react. “It wasn't an easy decision, you know? I thought about it for a couple of weeks and I thought about telling you but I was so scared that you would be happy and I would have the baby to please you and I just —”

“Daisy,” you call her name until she stops rambling and you enter her personal space, pulling her against your chest to let her know that you are there for her. “Daisy, I get it. It's okay. I’m not ready for another kid. Shh, shh, it's okay. It's your body, I would have never asked—”

“I know you wouldn't have but I would have done it! For you!” She interrupts. “Because I know how much you love kids and you're a great parent. You're so great with Rachel and I know how much she wants siblings and I just couldn't. I couldn't be the one to give you that. But if I told you, I would have gone through with it and I would have been miserable,” she continues to ramble. You pull back and get her to look you in the eye.

“Daisy, you're not listening,” you say calmly. “Breathe with me. Okay?” She nods with you and you count to four with your fingers as you inhale through your nose. Then you put down the four fingers as you hold. You lift them back up as you exhale. And you repeat the process with Daisy until she appears a little more relaxed. “Daisy, recently I've been asked by my ex-wife to have more kids with her and I told her no. I — this is going to sound horrible but — I wasn't ready to be Rachel's parent. I love her, she is my world. But it took me longer than anyone realizes to be comfortable being her parent. I wasn't ready and I know that a lot of parents will tell you that none of them were ready and that's,” you wave your hand to the side. “It's quite clear that they weren't and I don't think it should be that way.” You shake your head. “Daisy, I'm telling you right now that I'm not ready for another child. When you told me about the pregnancy right now I nearly threw up. You made the right decision. I'm not mad at you. I don't hate you for making this decision on your own. It's your choice, I'm just sorry that I didn't make you feel like you could come to me about this. I'm sorry that I wasn't there for you.” Daisy closes her eyes and leans against your chest.

Neither of you talk for a moment. Allowing yourselves to process and accept the truths that each has shared. You think about how that night might’ve gone differently. You wouldn’t have lived with Wanda for almost two weeks. You wouldn’t have gotten as close to Wanda as you have. You would have been having back-and-forth conversations with Daisy. You would have developed a stronger relationship. Maybe. It could have turned sour. She could have grown distant and resented you or herself for the decision. Who knows? That wasn’t what happened. So it doesn’t matter now. But you can’t help but think where you could have been now had things happened differently.

“Did you deal with this alone?” You eventually ask her. Daisy shakes her head against your chest. You’re surprised she is still resting against you because normally she couldn’t stand the smell of your sweat and the other odors that come from manual labor when the two of you were together. “Jemma?” She nods against you. “Can I ask, uh, what… or why did you bring this to me now?” You ask carefully.

You feel Daisy take a deep breath and this is what pulls her away from you. She wipes her face and sits against the back of the couch. She plays with the rings on her fingers and flexes her jaw. “I didn’t get the abortion until a couple of weeks ago,” she admits. “I almost went through with the pregnancy because,” she takes another shaky breath. “Jean was at the same clinic I was at to make the appointment. I spilled my guts to her because Jemma had to leave halfway through since it wasn't the appointment and Jean was there when I had second thoughts. It took me a couple of weeks to even go in because I was in denial for a bit. I didn’t want to believe it was true. Then I saw the sonogram and I,” she shakes her head and looks up to the ceiling. “I had second thoughts.” She shrugs her shoulders and you take one of her hands to offer your support. It’s not an easy decision for most. That's assuming that it's ever an easy decision for anyone. “Jean offered to pay for my doctor bills and prenatal care if I decided to follow through with the pregnancy and gave her and Anna the baby and never told you about any of this.” You drop Daisy’s hand and turn away from her.

You stand up with that nauseous feeling again, not sure what to do about a betrayal of this caliber. You know that Jean has a tendency to do anything and everything to get what she wants when she wants it but… This was too far. “I can’t fucking,” you shake your head. You want to punch a wall or break something but you can’t. You can’t afford the injury. You can’t afford the plaster to fix the wall. You can’t afford to replace the things you have. You can’t afford any of this because you thought you were paying off debts before interest can build on them. You thought you were doing everything right. You thought you could trust Jean. You can’t believe she would go so far as to put Daisy through something like this.

“Please don’t hate me,” Daisy begs, “I was confused and I wasn’t sure what I wanted. I only said yes at first because I thought you would be allowed to be in their life and I thought you would like that and–”

“I’m not upset with you,” you cut her off. “It’s not your fault,” you try to focus on your breathing but you can’t calm down. You can’t focus on anything. You don’t know how someone can be so deranged. You look at Daisy and you feel so guilty for what happened to her. The position she was put in. It makes sense why one day Jean is ready to cut your head off for saying no and then next she’s perfectly fine. What kind of person could be so deceptive? What kind of person… you huff through your nose. “I’m sorry that you had to go through that,” you say to Daisy in the softest tone you could muster up. “You shouldn’t have… She shouldn’t’ve…” you shake your head and close your eyes.

Daisy stands up and takes your white-knuckled fist and massages the tight skin until you release your grip. “I am going to be okay. I probably shouldn’t have told you. I just, I don’t know. At first the offer was that I just give them the baby. I wrongfully assumed that also meant giving you the baby. Then she eventually told me that you would not know that the baby was even yours,” she shakes her head. “I couldn’t put myself in the middle of this. I couldn’t put anyone in the middle of that. I didn't want to be part of why Rachel’s parents grew to hate each other. You guys are such healthy examples for her.” You begin to grow upset again thinking about how Jean deceived Daisy. How she was ready to deceive you. It was one thing to ask you to knowingly not be allowed in your child's life. But to go behind your back and essentially kidnap what almost was your child… you couldn’t believe it.

“When I had the chance to think about it, I didn’t want to give birth. I couldn’t go through with it so without telling her, I went through with the abortion because that’s what I wanted.” Daisy closes her eyes as tears slip out and she continues to rub your hand. Something she learned that can keep you grounded. “The only thing that has been tearing me apart about this whole thing is how much of it was being kept from you. I haven’t been able to sleep because of it. You deserve to know.”

“Thank you for telling me,” you state as you watch her rub your hands. You clench your jaw as your eyebrows knit together. Normally an action like this would calm you down but the information was far too upsetting. “I need to go for a walk or something. I don’t know. I just can’t be here right now.” You pull your hand away.

“I don’t think you should be alone,” Daisy tries to pull you back to her.

“Trust me, right now, that’s what’s best for everyone,” you say as you hold your hand up to stop her from coming any closer to you. Daisy stares at you, wanting to be in your arms again. Wanting to feel that comfort that you brought her. Both in the past and just before she dropped the bomb on you. But you weren't someone that sought after touch when you were going through something. You retreated. You isolated yourself. At least, that's what you did when you were with her. She might never know that there are other sides to you. Especially not after tonight.

“Okay,” she says just above a whisper. “Okay,” she repeats as she walks to the exit. “I'm sorry for everything, again,” she says as she steps into the hallway. “Please, don't do anything stupid.” She disappears, leaving the door open.

You stare at the door as you think of what you want to do. You think about getting into your car but you're afraid that if you do, you'll drive into a tree or worse. You'll drive to Jean’s house. You couldn't do that to Rachel. You check that you have your keys, phone, and wallet in your pockets and then you lock up your apartment on your way out. Stepping out onto the concrete sidewalk outside of your apartment building you look every which way. There are bars and restaurants down each way. You could easily find somewhere to drink but that's not what you want to do. So you start walking.

You walk aimlessly for a long time. You walk until your legs begin to ache and your feet begin to hurt. You find yourself at a dock, there are many boats parked but you find a space without one. You sit at the ledge and look out to the water and breathe. The smell of the salty water is calming. You watch as the water moves causing the reflection of the lights to dance. You allow yourself to grieve because even though you didn't want another child, you contributed to almost bringing another life into the world. It was a weird feeling. You're not upset with Daisy for making her choice, you are grateful to her. But you still feel the loss. You didn't understand the feeling but you let yourself feel it. Because even though you don't understand why you feel the way that you do, you don't have to justify or explain it to anyone. You can just allow yourself to feel whatever you want to.

Then you grieve the relationship you thought you had with Jean. You can't believe she would pull something like this. You don't understand where an idea like that would come from out of her. You don't know how you'll be able to move past this. You feel like she took everything the two of you built together over the years and tore it apart bit by bit. You feel disgusting. You feel used. You take deep breaths as you feel it all. Hoping to release it in a healthy way. It was done, there wasn't much else that you could do about it now except to confront her. You couldn't do that until Sunday.

When you stand up to leave, you slip and fall into the water. You don't try to swim at first. You let the water move you. Trusting that it won't take you away. That it won't pull you under and shorten your time on this planet. You just float in the water. Eventually, the need for air is too great and you swim up until you break the surface with a big gasp.

You pull yourself up onto the dock and start walking home. You are grateful for the bulky phone case when you pull it out of your pocket to find that the phone is perfectly fine. You use the map application in order to navigate your way home. When you arrive at your destination you shower and eat a microwavable meal. You fall into your bed after taking a sleep aid and fall asleep.

The next day, at work, Wanda stops by the job site around lunch time. You walk into Pietro’s office and find the two of them laughing with takeaway meals in front of them. You still feel horrible from the night before. But hearing her laugh heals the wounds inside your heart.

“Y/n!” Wanda grins. “I brought you something too,” she holds up a container. You look at the container and try not to show that you have anything wrong with you by forcing on a smile.

“You didn't have to,” you say as you move to the sink to wash your hands before you join them. “I appreciate this. Is there an occasion I'm not aware of?” You ask as you open the container. The aroma of your favorite food should have made you happier, instead you began to feel nauseous again. It has nothing to do with the food or Wanda's presence and everything to do with the feelings that you're suppressing.

“No, I had lunch with Tony yesterday and it reminded me how much I enjoy having lunch with other people,” she shrugs. “Isolation can become a bit of a downside when it comes to working from home for me sometimes.”

You nod, “Makes sense. Why don't you do the hybrid method? That's what Daisy did with school. She would do online classes and in-person classes,” you suggest before you take a bite. You chew slowly because you do need to eat. No matter how sick you're feeling.

“That's a good idea,” Pietro agrees. “You could finally get better acquainted with the rest of the staff.”

Wanda makes a distasteful face, “I don't know. Getting to know people always leads to getting stuck in the middle of their drama.” She shakes her head. “I think I have enough of my own.”

Pietro shrugs, “You never know. Sometimes it's good to hear about other people's drama. It makes your life sound better. Why do you think I still talk to you? Just because you're my sister?” Wanda’s eyes widen and she punches her brother on his shoulder. “Hey! It's not my fault, you have the most dramatic life out of anyone I know! Y/n,” he nudges you, “back me up here!”

You are snapped out of your head and try to catch up with the conversation. You look between them cluelessly. “I'm sorry, I probably have her beat when it comes to a dramatic life.”

Pietro shakes his head, “What are you talking about? Other than that baby thing, you are relatively drama free. That drama even ended pretty well from what I remember.”

You feel a little light headed as you are reminded by the development of that issue. That there is a new ending to the situation. But you don't tell him. You don't want to tell him. You're not even sure you want to tell Wanda. Not right now at least. You nod, “Yeah, I guess you're right.” You turn to Wanda with a playful shrug. “Sorry, I tried.” Wanda shakes her head and the three of you share a laugh.

“Whatever,” Wanda mutters as she stabs her salad with her fork.

When lunch is over, you walk Wanda out to her car. You're quiet as she talks to you about her current project and updating you on her boys. Then she asks you if you are okay because you seem a little off. You shrug and stop when you reach the car. “Um the other day, Jean and Anna asked me to move my workshop out of their shed,” you scratch behind your ear. Feeling queasy saying her name.

“Your workshop?” Wanda asks as she unlocks her car.

“Yeah, just my tools and some leftover materials that I used on my last order,” you explain as you open the car door for her.

“Last order? What do you mean?” Wanda reaches over and sets her purse on the passenger seat but she doesn't sit in her car just yet.

“I have a little side business. Haven't I told you about it before?” You are surprised with yourself that you haven't mentioned this to her before. You try to think of a time that you might've brought it up before but you come up with nothing. There just hasn't been a reason to. Wanda shakes her head as she does the same. “Ah well, I have a small business. I take custom orders. Anything that someone wants built, I build it.” You pull out your phone and show her your website. “Just something to help with the bills whenever I can't get a lot of hours.” She takes your phone and nods, impressed by the stuff you have built in the past. “Anyway, the reason it's on my mind, they want me to move my stuff out of the shed. I can't really afford a place to be able to store everything and be able to have the space to work on orders.”

“I have a shed that, admittedly, could use some care,” she says as she hands you back your phone. “You could set up shop in there, at no cost, of course.”

“Wanda, I can't take you up on that offer,” you resist.

“Yes, you can,” she insists. “Why couldn't you?”

You look away and lick your lips as you are reminded of the night she rejected you. “I would need a lot of access to it when or really if I get another order. I don't know if it's a good idea for us to spend that much time together.”

Wanda nods as she understands where you're coming from. “Technically we wouldn't be spending any of that time together. You'd be working and I would be inside my house or doing something. Come on, we're friends. Let me help you with this.”

You focus your eyes back to hers and you think about just how much she has been helping you. It doesn't feel like there is a balance in the friendship with how often she helps you compared to how often you help her. “I don't know Wanda,” you say as you bite your bottom lip in thought. You can't think of a good reason to say no so you don't. You shrug and nod at her. “Okay, yeah, I will take you up on that offer. Thank you, Wanda. I really appreciate it. Is it okay if I bring it all by on Sunday?”

Wanda smiles and nods, “Of course, come by then. I'm sure the boys will be happy to see you and Rachel again. They were pretty upset about not having you guys there last week.”

“Yeah, Rachel wasn't happy about it either. She prefers cooking with you a lot more than she does with me,” you say with a soft laugh. Wanda smiles at her shoes as she thinks about how much she prefers cooking with you over anyone else. She looks back up and locks eyes with you. She feels like an idiot for pushing you away but she doesn't feel ready to tell you how she feels about you.

“I'll see you on Sunday,” she says and you nod as you repeat her departing words as you step away from her. You wave as she drives off and you go back to work without thinking about your problems with Jean and instead thinking about Wanda and how pretty she looked today.

Saturday night you can't sleep. You toss and turn even after taking a sleep aid. Your heart pounds as your mind races about seeing Jean the next day. You can't stop running through scenarios of confronting her. Are you going to do it right away? Are you going to choke? Is the sight of her going to make you nauseous? Or worse. Is it going to cause you to actually vomit? Will you be able to see her without getting angry? You're going to have to be there longer than you want to because you have to load your truck with your stuff but are you going to make it through? You don't know. And you're exhausted by the anticipation.

You are lucky to get in a nap before you have to pick up Rachel. You have to drink two cups of coffee before you feel awake enough to drive. On the drive over, you are yet again practicing what you're going to say when you arrive. You yawn as you park and shake your head to get you ready to knock on the door. You stare at the house as you try to remember that she is your friend. She was your favorite person once upon a time. You loved her. But it's all tainted now. She has slowly burned you out and ripped you to shreds.

You step out of your truck and knock on the door. You look at the welcome mat to keep yourself calm as you wait. When there's no response, you ring the doorbell. You take slow breaths as you try to clear your mind. You can't think about what Daisy told you in front of Rachel.

Anna is the one to open the door. Since Daisy hadn't mentioned her, you can tell yourself that she isn't someone that you should be upset with and you can tell yourself that she has no idea. At least until you can figure out when to confront them about this. You walk through the house to get to your stuff in the backyard but when you bring the tools to your truck you go through the gate that leads to the front instead of going through the house. You don't say anything to Anna, you don't even ask why she's the only person you've seen so far. You just focus on your task. Move your tools from the shed to your truck. When you're done, Rachel greets you with a tight hug that you are happy to reciprocate. It's a relief to see her and to hold her.

Jean is on the phone in the kitchen and you don't feel the desire to interrupt her conversation just to confront her. You decide to leave it alone. You take Rachel to the car and help her get inside. “Did you hear the good news?” Rachel asks as you get settled in the driver's seat. You shake your head and ask her what the good news is. “I'm having a baby brother! My mommies said so. I'm going to be a big sister!” Your heart stops as your entire body freezes. How could they tell her something like that? How do they even know what the gender would have been?

“Wait right here, I need to ask your mommies something,” you tell your daughter with a tight voice. You climb out of the truck and walk to the front door. This time, you enter without knocking and walk up to Jean as she ends her phone call. “How dare you,” you start bitterly. Jean is thrown off and her confused smile drops. “How dare you put Daisy in that kind of position. How dare you tell our daughter that she's going to be a big sister before there is a baby. There isn't going to be a baby! There never should have been. You shouldn't have tried to talk Daisy out of her decision. You are a cisgendered female, you should have some respect when it comes to another woman making a decision about her life and her body. Not only that, you are my best friend. Or at least you used to be. I thought you would have enough respect for me to tell me the moment you found out about Daisy's pregnancy. I was mistaken to believe the lies you told me but I will not allow that behavior to affect our daughter. So you better be a thousand percent certain when it comes to something as big as a sibling coming into her life before you tell her anything!” You take a split second to decide whether or not to continue and with how upset you are, you can't stop yourself. “And I was going to let Daisy tell you this herself but I will do what you should have done. She went through with her decision. There won't be a baby. Now I suggest that you either start looking into fostering or adopting — no. You should get your fucking head checked be clearly you are out of your fucking mind, Jean!” Jean slaps you clear across your face. The slap was loud and the impact was hard. It stings and you lift your hand up to your face in shock.

“Get out!” Anna shouts from behind you. You are shaking with anger. You weren't aware that you had gotten so furious with the situation. You try to say more but Anna won't let you. Jean is in tears and looking down at her hand, shocked by her own actions. Anna steps in between you and her wife. “Get the fuck out of my house Y/n! Get out! Get out!” She starts pushing you backwards. You hold your hands up and shake your head.

“You're both unbelievable. I'm going,” you walk out after Anna's last shove. You can't believe the reactions. You can't believe the lack of accountability. You storm across the yard and climb into the truck.

“What's wrong?” Rachel asks in a scared little voice. You feel terrible seeing her shaken up. You sigh and close your eyes before you look at her.

“Nothing sweetheart,” you say as softly as you can. “Nothing, let's just… we're going to go home and I'm going to go for a run and then maybe we'll stop by Wanda’s house to drop all of this stuff off later. How does that sound?” You try to make her feel more at ease.

“Why can't we go to Ms. Wanda’s first? I really want to see Tommy and Billy and tell them about the good news!” She asks innocently and you have to close your eyes to calm down. You open them and start the engine. You need to distance yourself from this house. From Jean and Anna. You're starting to wonder if your ex’s behavior is being instigated by her wife. You aren't sure how you can find out. But it's definitely something to look into with the lengths she's gone through to make this idea of theirs happen.

“Honey, mommies were mistaken. You're not going to be a big sister,” you correct her.

Rachel frowns, “Yes I am. They said so. My mommies don't lie to me, Baba.”

“I know that sweetheart, that's why I said that they were mistaken. That's not the same as lying, it's more like they didn't know what they were telling you wasn't true,” you take a second to glance at her. “Does that make sense to you?” Rachel nods with tears building in her eyes. “Awe baby girl, what's wrong?”

“I really wanted to be a big sister,” she says as she wipes her tears. You feel bad as you continue to drive.

“I know sweetie, I know,” you sigh as you start to reconsider their proposal. But you quickly shove that thought out of your mind. You cannot allow your daughters disappointment to change your mind on a matter of this magnitude. “Do you still want to go to Wanda’s first?”

“Yes please,” she says as she continues to wipe her face. “I want to see my friends.” You want to calm down before you see Wanda. You don't want to pull her into more of your problems. But you feel bad enough for taking away your daughters smile. So you suck it up and drive to Wanda’s house. You text her that you're on the way when you stop at a red light.

When you pull up the driveway, Wanda is waiting outside with a smile. She knocks on the window and talks as you roll it down. “I don't care what you say, I'm helping you move the stuff into the shed.” Her wide smiles drops to an expression of concern when she sees the red mark on your cheek. She looks further into the truck and sees Rachel's face is red from crying. “What happened?” She looks you over and you shake your head.

“Nothing, why do you ask?” You say, oblivious to the evidence on your face while you try to hide your frustration from the day.

Wanda leans in as close as she can get. “Have you looked in the mirror?” She says in a low whisper.

Your eyebrows knit together and you frown before you drop the visor mirror to check yourself out. Then you see the mark and you shut it. You want to curse yourself for not going home first. “I can't talk about it right now. Can we start moving this stuff?” Wanda nods and allows you to get out of the vehicle. You walk to the other side to help Rachel down before you start to take stuff down from your truck. You hand some boxes to Wanda and she leads the way to her shed. She talks the entire way about how she spent her entire Saturday reorganizing the entire space. You hardly listen as your mind replays the last hour. How Jean slapped you and Anna pushed you. How angry you felt — no, feel.

Once the pair of you set the boxes down Wanda asks again what happened and the words come out of you before you can stop them. You tell her everything from running into Jemma to what happened with Jean just moments ago. Wanda is quiet as she stands there and processes. She doesn't look at you as she does. You shift your weight uncomfortably as you wait for a response. When she finally moves you don't expect her to hug you the way that she does. She holds you tightly in a warm embrace that breaks your walls down.

“I'm so sorry,” she whispers against your chest as you break down in tears and she rubs your back. You let her hold you and comfort you in ways that you hardly ever allowed anyone to take care of you. You allow her to witness a side of vulnerability that you rarely let many see.

After a bit of time the both of you stop crying. You and Wanda sneak into the house and each go to a bathroom in order to wash your faces and then get back to work. Together the truck gets emptied of the tools and materials in an impressive amount of time and was put away in the shed. When the both of you finish, Wanda gets a phone call and excuses herself to answer. You follow her inside to wash your hands.

You get a message from Nebula and you feel slightly guilty when you do. You open the message and you clench your jaw as she admits how much she likes you and asks when she can see you next. The two of you went out on a date shortly after Wanda rejected you. It was an okay date but with everything going on, it doesn't feel right. You close your phone and head upstairs to check on the kids. As you do so you pass Wanda's office. Her door is slightly ajar. You don't mean to listen in but when you hear the words, “Thank you for introducing me… yeah he has made me feel things I haven't felt before,” and, “I feel like he understands me better than I understand me.” You feel your heart sink. You continue to walk to check on the kids as you try to tell yourself that you didn't hear the entire conversation so you couldn't possibly know what she was talking about. But a small voice in the back of your head is telling you that she rejected you because she found someone else. A reality that you'll have to accept if you and Wanda are going to continue to be friends.

After you check on the kids you schedule another date with Nebula for the next Sunday after you drop Rachel off. Then you continue on with your night with Wanda and the kids. Doing your best to keep your mind off of everything else.

Chapter 19

Taglist: @princessprudy @sayah13 @agaymilflover @awkwardmandalorian @bentleywolf29 @thatshyboy1998 @artisannat @thisischaismagic @wqndanat @madamevirgo @likefirenrain @tearsofglitter @feltlikethat @the-writer-arcane @natashasilverfox @karsonromanoff @aloneodi @lovelyy-moonlight @red1culous @jovialsublimecomputer @natasha-maximoff @iliketozoneout @doudouneverte @druggedduck @notbornbutforged @when-wolves-howl @lifespectator @justyourwritter69 @wandaromamoff69 @awesomelygayasf @nekoannie-chan @diaryoflife @wuwu96 @wandanats-goodgirl @sincerely-indi @blueredg52 @sisiofthemultifandom @fuzzyuniversityeclipsefriend @arcturusseer @scarlettwidow34 @chasethemoon @raven-ss @canyonyodeler @sokovianbaby @alexawynters @bittysworld @hopeless-romantic17177 @spongebobtentacles @the-ox-fan20 @shaniiwm

#wanda maximoff imagine #wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff au #wanda marvel #fanfiction #messedupfan #wanda fanfic #wanda x you #wanda x reader #wanda x y/n #wanda maximoff fanfiction #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x y/n #wanda maximoff x you #wanda maximoff x gender neutral reader

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phoniexrose02 · 1 year ago

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NoNut

Demetri alexopoulos x Black! Reader

Smutt~ 🌰

Demetri had no Plans of Participate in no nut, Expectantly With you Walking By his Side now but When Robby Pulled out a Few Hundred after training, The Game was On.

He'd gotten about 20 Days into the Month before Your Skimpy Skirts an Shorts started to get to him, he wanted to Rip it off you-

"Demi? We still good to go for our Study Date tonight?" You asked innocently Moon and Yas at your side. Though you'd Chosen Simple Outfit it still Hugged and Showed your Curves. You'd thought the Long Black Dress would make it Easier for your Poor Boyfriend to Function, But all it was Doing was Turning him on...

"Yea, After Training of course" he Responded Making Yas Groan Loudly."I don't understand the Hype over these Karate Kids..." She Quietly Groaned out Referring to Both you and Moon, She left to her Last Period taking Moon with her.

You Wrapped your Arms around your Boyfriend Waist Gently shoving him into the Lockers, His Cheeks Began to Heat and he Could Feel His Dick harden as your Plump Tits smashed Against his Chest."Don't Train too Hard Ok?" Your soft Voice an Quiet, you Kissed his Cheek leaving a Glossy Lip Print Before Following the Girls to Class.

He'd been Bricked for the Rest of the School day an Decided to Get some Advice from his Training Pals.

" I can't Win this with Y/n around, Is it Hard with moon too?" He asked Hawk in the Middle of their Spar, He only Smirked before Putting the Young Man on his Back with a Hard Thud, Demetri Groaned the impact Knocking the Wind From him. Eli Kneeled to his Brother an Held out his hand."How Bad do you Want that 200?"

Pretty Bad...

He'd kept trying to tell himself that as he Approached your front door, it was More than Just a Bet. He wanted you to know that he wasn't Just There For your Rocking Body, but for you...

When you showed to his Door your Hugged Dress was Replaced with a pair of Shorts that Rode up your ass and a Crop top that Showed just a bit to much Cleavage.

"Hope your Ready to Study Hard~"

He'd known you enough to know what you wanted."uhm...don't you wanna start the homework!" He Sprung up from your Grasp over to his Backpack Where he Pulled out a Few Books an Paper, he Sat at his Computer Chair Turning away to Face his Desk, you'd Felt a bit Cold from his Sudden moment.

"Demi??"

You shuffled further to the edge his Bed in Suspension, an he finally Turned to you once again."Your not doin' that Stupid Bet are you?" His Face Gave you all the Confirmation you Need an you Giggled."Girls Talk Baby~" he Grumbled. He didn't want to have to Explain it...

"It's a Control thing, Plus id Get 200 out of it" he Shrugged, But the Face you Made to him Let him know you Weren't entirely sure what to say next.

"So you don't wanna Titty-Fuck me Right now??"

You Played with the edges of the your Top letting your Breast Spill from it, You Jiggled them a bit an He became a Tomato as he watched you Bouncing Boobs an Pouting face, he'd almost forgotten is Cash Money Prize."As Much as I'd Love to, I can't y/n, Please Don't make this Hard..." he Snapped his Head away from you to Whatever else he could in the Room."But I Got all Pretty for you Love~" you Mewled out slowly Descending to the Floor and to his Chair, He Watched you Crawl to him like a Predator staring down His Prey, your Breast Swallowing up any Necklace you wore.

"Well..." He Felt his Dick Harden straining in his tight Jeans." I guess when you Put it Like that...I Can't say No~" he Quickly Pawed at his Jeans to Let his Dick loose, you Sat on your Knees Waiting an licked your Lips as It Sprung Free. His Dick Stood at attention for you as He Grabbed a Small Bottle of Lube from His Desk Drawer.

"Haven't bust one in 20 days, make it Note-worthy?~" you pull off your top an bra revealing the Beauty Silver Bars, You watched his Dick Jump as the Reveal of your nipples piercings."Fuck, your Sneaky Minx" You Jerked at his Already Heated tip before stealing the Lube From his Shaking Hands, You Poured some onto your Boobs Before Slipping his Cock Snug in between.

"So Warm~" You Moved your Breast in Figure Eights, Squeezing his Dick and Pinching at your Own Piercings. He Leaned over Mouth agape, you Kissed at his Tip Making him Thrust a Bit into your Chest."Let me Fuck your Pretty Titties~" You Obeyed letting him Take Charge, He Grabbed your Breast by the hand fulls Squeezing them together tight and he leaned back an started his Wild thrust into your Sleek Breast. " Fuck! Fuck! I missed these these pretty Tits!~" Your Face Warmed at the Confession, an you began to lick at the Now Leaking Tip, the Precum warm an Salty. It's all it Took for him to Spill his Cum all over your Face and Tits, But God Damn was it a Big Load~

"God...this is really a Mess, I'll get something to Clean you with!" He Pulled up pants quickly before disappearing into the Bathroom. You huffed at the sound of running water and Grabbed your Phone, you Quickly Snap a Pic of your Cum Covered Tits. He comes back with a Warm Rag and you Quickly Toss your phone back onto the Bed. You Spent the Rest of the Night Making Sure he'd Spilled every last Drop from him, Putting him to Bed Before heading home yourself.

The Next day at school, he Shameful Made His failure known to his Buds Who Weren't too Surprised, Eli of all of his Friends Knew Full Well he wasn't getting that 200. Not only was his Girlfriend Hot but Everyone Knew How Crazy he went for you, How you two Would Magic Disappear any event and try to reappear like nothing happened. Its Obvious to the Boys he wouldn't last Long.

At the end of the school day he found you gossip with your girls in the hallway, Giggling an Whispering as he slowly Approached. Moon Quickly shoved something into your hand Before the Two Push Past Him."Better Luck Next Year..." Yas Whispers an the Girls Run off to Class Giggling. His Eyes finally laid to in Clearly a Bit Confused."What was that??" He asked quietly pointing behind him.

"Us girls made a Lil Bet too" you Smiled flashing the Money to him."It's not a Full 200 but I'm sure it's enough for a Lil Date Night~" you Branded a Beautiful Smile making him Blush a Bit.

"We can Go to my house After~" he Wiggled his Brows an you Follow up with a Pleased Giggle. He wrapped his arm around your waist Leading you to out for your Night of Fun~

More Cobra Kai 🐍

#black reader #demetri alexopoulos #demetri alexopoulos x reader #demetri alexopoulos x Black! Reader #demetri alexopoulos Smut #demetri alexopoulos x Chubby! Reader #Vanilla Brown Pound #cobra kai #cobra kai smut #cobra kai x reader #Cobra Kai x Black! Reader

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ofallthingsnasty · 7 months ago

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Ah, but being a party girl... Getting to your late 20s/early 30s, feeling that shift within you; knowing that hey, this can't go on forever... Starting something light with Crocodile, maybe aiming for a little fun in the spring, just someone proper to take you out for dinners and to warm your bed - testing the waters, so to speak. You want to settle down soon, just not right now, just want to see how it is as an item. He's handsome, has a certain air to him and a lot of money to spend - so why not?

tw.minors dni, a little dark twist at the end bc it's crocodile 🤭

Of course, you butter him up. He's right at that age where his type of man gets a little wistful, would like to have a wife, a house, maybe a kid if it's in the cards, still? Twenty-some years of 50 hour weeks will do that to you, will show you that your body doesn't just bounce back like so when you step over a certain threshold. Well, he wants someone to put a ring on; you want some fun - so, selfish as you are, you play along. Humor him. Hang off his arm and entertain those silly thoughts of his - a vacation together, moving in with him after the summer's done (because well, why not smile and nod when you'll be long gone by then), pointedly ignoring the way he keeps burying you in expensive gifts. You should feel bad, the guilt should probably eat you alive, because as the weeks pass you can tell that he's really, really smitten with you while you're secretly texting some other guy your age when you return home from yet another chic Italian restaurant-

It's such a sad thing, really. He'll make some other woman stupid happy, especially if she's been yearning for a rich husband; he's the perfect example of the broody, grumbly type who mumbles on and on about her expensive taste but would rather die than NOT to buy her exactly what she wants. There is a certain appeal to him (or else you wouldn't have spent this much time with him) and he'll be just fine after licking wounds once you're gone, you're sure of it. It's definitely nice to have someone around who is serious about you - after years and years of boyfriends (emphasis on boy) who were only good for long nights of drinking and summer vacations, you feel spoiled and terribly grown to have a handsome man downright worship you, to plan a future with you after such little time. He's committed and doesn't play around. Yes, you think, you could get used to this, but you still need a few more years of being free before you'll let yourself be tied down - because as much as it is flattering, it can also be a little scary. The thought of you in a white gown and a matching ring on your finger in just a year is making you antsy; and with how fast he's moving he might just want to opt for a December wedding.

So you do what you do best: smile, kiss him goodbye after yet another lovely date and- ghost him. You avoid his neighborhood for a few weeks, go private on all your socials, block his number, duck away whenever you see that telltale black shock of hair that is dragging smoke behind it, act like he never existed. And it works, as it always does.

At least that's what you think. Because the one night you finally dare to venture out again ends abruptly and with you waking up in an unfamiliar room. You can barely lift your hand to rub your tired eyes because suddenly there is a weight on it and a familiar face is staring you down solemly from the bedside, that all too familiar smell of cigars all around you. Turns out, leaders of crime syndicates who operate behind the innocent fronts of bussinesmen don't like to be deceived and made a fool of, especially by naive little playgirls who think they're smarter than the rest of the world and when they weren't even able to glean that there was more to the person they chose to goad. And spoiled brats like you need to learn not to toy with other people's hearts and egos, both of which are dangerously fragile. You reeled him in with promises of marriage and love and that's exactly what you'll give him now, just without all the luxury that you could have had if you hadn't been dishonest from the start.

Time to grow up, princess.

#i need to re-watch SatC soon can you tell lol #crocodile x reader #one piece x reader #oh my god i just realized that this is basically the plot of king thrushbeard no one look at me lmaooo #/crocodile #/one piece #tw.dark content #fem reader

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deluxewhump · 9 months ago

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The Scry

Chapter 10: Good Intentions, Tied Hands

CW: whumpee with powers, exploitation of powers, forced labor, power imbalance with caretaker, sleep deprivation, withholding of food, mention of suicide and self harm as an escape from torture

Carlo had been gone a week.

Max found it difficult to focus on his work. In fact, it annoyed him greatly that he was supposed to drop their planned projects and work on his own again for an undetermined amount of time, because for an unspecified reason they’d decided to kidnap his precognitive.

Not his precognitive. The precognitive. Carlo.

He got one contract rolling, a small one out of a Tuscaloosa based paper plant that he wouldn’t have wasted Carlo’s talents on. But it was something to have on the books for the week, anyway.

He told Eddie and Simon what was happening, but they didn’t quite appreciate the gravity of the situation. How could they? They hadn’t been given a scared and abused precog to work with out of the blue one day, gotten attached, and then had him mysteriously “borrowed” for an undetermined amount of time.

God knows what they wanted from the poor kid now, where he was. He could be in the building still, or in California being subjected to more unethical experimentation. He thought of the surgery scar Carlo showed him often, whenever his mind wandered. He hadn’t told Ingrid about that. He didn’t know why, he just couldn’t.

He did tell Alex Clair, though.

Alex was the only one at Spartan who seemed to be on the same page with him about the precogs. He was the only one who was as dismayed and alarmed by Carlo’s sudden absence as he was, and he came by often now for updates or to share information.

“Zee said he knows about those research facilities,” he said one afternoon in Max’s office. Max exited his browser and laid his temples in his hands. He was exhausted.

“I didn’t tell him about Carlo’s… personal experience,” Alex added quickly. “Just asked if he knew about things like that going on. He did.”

“I’m worried about him,” Max muttered. “I don't trust them not to hurt him."

“You two did the best of all of us in the first week. They’re using him for some shady nefarious precog shit, either to make a bunch of money or rig an election somewhere, I promise.”

“That’s reassuring, thank you.”

Alex’s cheek dimpled in an apologetic half-grimace. “I just mean he’s useful to them. They won’t hurt him too bad.” He was still wearing a Spartan hoodie over more formal slacks, his half-uniform of protest. “I was thinking of trying to get Blake real drunk Friday night and seeing what he spills,” he offered.

Max was wearily amused. “You think Martin really tells him anything? Or he just walks around like he does?”

Alex sighed. He ran his hand through his hair so it stayed lifted in a slowly falling blond poof, like a muscle memory. “Yeah, I dunno. He’s a tryhard.”

“I think our hands are tied.”

Alex let his head fall back, tossing a ping pong ball he must’ve lifted from the break room at the ceiling and catching it when it bounced back at him. “I’m so sick of it. For real.”

“I talked to a lawyer,” Max confided.

Alex sat back up. “Who? What’d they say?”

“A family friend. It was just as a favor. My mother’s an attorney, so I know a few. It’s not good. Basically we don’t have any leverage whatsoever. This is all currently legal with the precogs.”

Alex made a face. “That’s it?”

“She said to document everything. Maybe in a year, once this all runs amok and they’re looking for someone to blame…”

“Martin’s such a fucking snake.” Alex tossed the ping-pong ball again. “And I know he’s not the top of the food chain. It’s just, I see his sorry ass every day.”

Max was about to say something about documenting everything together, collaborating on a record of sorts, when a knock came at his office door.

Alex widened his eyes questioningly. Expecting anyone?

Max stood from his desk, crossed the short expanse of the office to answer the knock. The door swung open to a hollow-eyed precog swaying on his feet, pale and glassy-eyed.

“Carlo,” he said, and immediately took him from his escort, a guy in a suit he’d never seen before. The escort made no effort to stop him, not did he comment. He left him there,with Max and Alex, and was gone.

Carlo could barely stand.

It had been bad before, but never quite this bad outside of the research hospital where they’d cut into him. He tried to say something, but a wave of nausea closed his mouth again before he got a word out. Max picked him up without a word. He wrapped his arms around his neck, trying to make himself easy to carry. Max carried him to his little cot in the corner of the office. It was still here. He hadn’t gotten rid of it.

He’d missed this cot so bitterly. He hadn’t slept in nearly 36 hours, and hadn’t eaten in longer. Martin found out that food and rest and water only dulled his precognitive powers, slowled them. Discomfort created an edge. Once he knew that, the niceties stopped, and the most grueling scrying of his life began. Max set him on the bed and laid him down. The bed was soft. So soft. Max was speaking, but not to him. To whom?

He saw Alex Clair come closer, looking as concerned as Max. “What did they do?”

“Who knows,” Max said, and gently slipped the CVS thermometer between Carlo’s lips. It beeped and Max shook his head at the number, showed it to Alex. Carlo knew it wasn’t his fault it was not a pleasing number, but he preferred it when he made his users happy.

“You’re alright,” Max was saying, brushing his hair back from his hot, dry forehead. “You’re safe now, Carlo. You’re okay.”

He remembered Alex sitting on the side of the cot to hold his head up while Max got him to drink from a water bottle. He swallowed some the wrong way and choked, and Alex helped him up a few more inches to cough.

Max’s House. Saturday. He’d never been so grateful to wake up and realize it was Saturday in his life. The thought of getting dressed and going into Baltimore, riding the elevator up to Max’s office made him want to cry.

Max had been patient with him, feeding him broth and juice and medicine, letting him sleep for hours, wake up, and sleep more. His fever broke, and then steadily declined until his body temperature was normal again. He wondered how many times he’d recover. How sick could he get and still get better, every time, like the guy who got his liver eaten over and over by birds?

Max looked surprised when he came downstairs of his own volition at eleven, dressed and coherent.

“How are you feeling?”

“So much better,” he said, though he still felt bruised under every inch of his skin, and his eyes ached in their sockets. He was grateful for the steady drizzle and heavy cloud cover outside.

“I have news that may be a small comfort to you. It is to me.”

Carlo pulled himself onto one of the chairs that sat tucked under the kitchen island, which seemed to be the house’s gathering place even when Max and Ingrid weren’t using it to cook a meal. He raised his eyebrows in question.

“It’s a long weekend. No work Monday. No office, no nothin’.”

Carlo laughed. “That really is the best thing you could’ve said right now. Except maybe that Spartan sold me to you.”

Max’s smile faltered, then recovered. It didn’t escape Carlo’s notice. He made a note to be careful saying things like that. Did Max not like the idea of him, or was it an extension of the discomfort he felt at the whole situation? He shouldn’t be so needy. Max had done so much for him already, in their present situation.

“Carlo,” he said with an air of his telephone-serious voice, and Carlo’s heart dropped. I’m sorry, he almost blurted. That was inappropriate. You don’t have to say it. I know. I know.

“I think we should talk about what happened.”

No, he thought. We shouldn’t. He wrapped his arms tightly around his ribs and thought of Martin's steady voice in his ear as he sobbed, the sound of that terrible and pitiless patience.

“I know it might be uncomfortable ," Max said. "It’s why I waited until we were home, away from anywhere someone might be able to listen in. But it’s just you and me here, and… I think you need to tell me where you were.”

“I was with Martin Olsen,” he answered quickly. “He tricked me after you left for coffee that day. Tuesday. He said he needed me to work on a project with him. For him. If I didn’t, he said I’d be sent away to a research hospital again.”

Max nodded along. His usually clean face was in need of a shave. His hair was looking a little longer too, dark as the stubble that dotted his chin. “What was that project? Can you tell me about it?”

Carlo shook his head firmly. “I can’t. I’m sorry.”

Max took on a look of measured disappointment that felt to Carlo like a knife in his ribs. “Listen, I really think it’s best if you do. I’m keeping a record of events in case I ever get the opportunity to do something about all this. Legally.”

Carlo had to look away. He stared at a knot in the wood of the island. “I understand, and I still can’t help you.”

Max put a warm hand on his knee and he flinched without meaning to. He hadn’t expected it, was all. Max withdrew the hand and Carlo wished he’d put it back. This isn’t how he thought today would go.

“No one will know what you’ve told me for now, Carlo,” he said seriously. “It will stay between you and me until a time when it’s absolutely safe to use and I have the leverage to keep you safe from any consequences. I’m not going to do anything to get you hurt, sweetheart.”

Carlo closed his eyes. “Don’t call me that when you’re trying to manipulate me,” he whispered. He meant it as a plea, but it came out like an accusation.

“Manipulate you…” Max repeated sadly. “I’m trying my best to help you. I’m feeling very frustrated and helpless here. I can only imagine how you must feel.”

“But you can’t,” he said, and made himself look in Max’s eyes. “Mr Olsen made me sign things. Confidentiality things. Non disclosure.”

“Probably all illegal, in context.”

“Maybe. Maybe not. But… it doesn’t matter what I signed because even if I didn’t, if he ever found out I told you or anyone what he made me work on, he’d make sure I got sent to the worst research project he could find, and I’d never leave again.” He lifted his shirt to remind Max of the scar, of their conversation. “Do you know what that would mean for me? A place like that? Do you know what they do to us?”

“I can guess.”

“I’ll die first. It would be so much better. There’s a million ways to do it. I’m not afraid to do it. Once they’ve got you in a place like that, you can’t. They make sure. You can’t find a syringe, a piece of glass. A good wire. Not even a thumbtack. And you can’t starve yourself to death, they’ll just stick a tube and an IV in you.”

He expected Max to chastise him for this kind of talk, or tell him to stop. He didn’t. “And you know Martin would do this if you told me what you worked on?”

“Yes. He told me.”

Max’s mouth tightened. “Of course he did.”

“Please don’t make me,” Carlo whispered. “Don’t make me tell you. It doesn’t matter. It’s all the same.”

“I'm not going to make you do anything. Can you tell me if it was relating to Spartan or not?” Max asked gently. “If it was to do with money, or politics, or something else? Was it business, or personal?”

Carlo felt tears prick the back of his sore eyes and let them come. He knew from experience that any charged display of emotion from him either made a user colder, almost angry, or they softened. Max softened.

“Don’t cry,” he said tenderly. Carlo could tell he wanted to touch him again but was discouraged by the earlier reaction to the hand on his knee.

“Don’t make me say,” Carlo whispered around the lump in his throat. He was going to have to beg. “Please, Sir.”

Max took a deep breath and was quiet for a few seconds. “Okay,” he surrendered.

Carlo knew he’d played his best hand with the Sir, reminding Max of his inherent authority over him. If he’d pushed any more, Carlo would’ve answered that last question. He felt a surge of relief that he hadn’t. He didn’t doubt Martin Olson’s threats for a single second. And he was glad Max relented. He didn't think he could take it if he pushed him, too, like everyone else.

“Okay,” Max said again, and put a tentative hand on Carlo’s shoulder. Carlo turned toward him and leaned as far as he could. Max caught him in an embrace, rubbing his shoulder blades with his broad hands. “It’s okay, Carlo. I’m sorry. I want to protect you, but I don’t know how.”

Carlo got the sense Max was not used to being powerless. He’d overheard him talking with his fiancée, running up against every wall in the corporate and legal structure and becoming frustrated there seemed to be nowhere he could apply pressure where anyone would care.

Carlo said nothing. He enjoyed the feeling of Max’s arms around him, the weight of them tethering him soundly to his chest.

“Do you want to tell me what happened? Without telling me anything about what you were working on?” Max asked.

“...Why?” He didn’t see what Max would want from that.

Max pulled back to hold the sides of Carlo’s head in his hands, looking at him with raised eyebrows like he might be a bit of an idiot. “Because I care about what happened to you. I thought you might want to talk about it with someone. With me.”

Oh.

Carlo thought about it. He could tell him of the way Martin watched him carefully, finding out what worked and what didn’t. He could tell him about the sleep deprivation, the cold basement office, the lack of food and water and constant bright lighting. The blackouts, the blinding migraines, the sickness, the mounting cost of pushing his scrying powers far past their limits.

What good would it do? If it was sympathy he wanted from Max, he already had it. He wished he could crawl in this man’s lap and make himself very small somehow. He wished he could be unimportant and left alone.

“Later, maybe? I just want to enjoy the day off.”

Max let him go, and his skin missed the places he was no longer being touched. “Okay. Yeah. Of course.”

#suicide mention cw #self harm mention cw #whumpee with powers #sickness cw #sleep deprivation cw #power imbalances cw #three chapters left!#maybe four tbh

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thekimspoblog · 22 days ago

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As far as the bowling balls thing? Yeah that was incredibly dangerous... which is why I don't buy it when fans say Kim "didn't think Howard would get killed". Like is Kim just an idiot? Maybe, but "We're talking about a career set back" is very much the kind of rationalization Walter White would do. One of the very first things you learn in law school is how easily pranks (or even things with good intent) can result in massive consequences. Hell even that scene where they're throwing beer bottles off the balcony, that could have brained someone and the show would have been over two seasons sooner. I don't think Kim was actively planning to kill Howard obviously, but I do believe she harbored generic "Hate my boss, fantasize about his head exploding" animosity. And again, maybe she even thought ripping the firm away from him would do him a kindness, make the scales fall from his eyes. She already played a small hand in Chuck's suicide, and clearly internalized her blame, so going after Howard was just doubling down.

Rationally, I'm sure when she says "We're talking about a career setback" she means "I'll be super duper careful. I have everything under control. What are the odds he will get hurt?" But subconsciously, she HAD TO have known... "What are the odds? Pretty good actually. But... damn it it's her money, she earned it. Hasn't she waited long enough for success already? She'd use the money so much better than HHM would; she could change the whole state for the better! Not to mention... she never thought she'd want a family but being around Jimmy makes her feel so safe and like herself. A nonprofit serving for the greater good, a shiny new life to mark a new chapter, those things are more important than one man's career/life right? Cost of doing business; it's what he would do to her!"

I think it's really fascinating how what happened to Howard was one of the only times the plan backfired AFTER working as intended. Jimmy's an idiot who keeps insisting he has everything under control when he clearly doesn't, but at least most of his stuff failed because there was some variable he didn't consider and the plan didn't go as intended. With Howard, the scam was already functionally over; the harm that was inflicted was the harm intended. The only problem was that apparently Step 10 of Kim's plan was that afterwards Howard would bounce back, and because of a freak accident that never came to pass. But come on, Kim had to know Howard wasn't ACTUALLY going to bounce back. And even though Lalo appearing was a freak accident, I'm sure on some level seeing Howard drop dead felt like she had wished on a monkey's paw.

It's not that I hate Howard with a burning passion or anything. It's just that compared to other deaths (of brown people) in Breaking Bad, Howard's death felt like a pretty run of the mill tragedy. I knew even in the early seasons that clearly this hate-sink character had a little more depth to him. But even that depth was pretty shallow, and Howard just played the role of the scapegoat too well NOT to be sacrificed to the plot demons. I just have to wonder how it would affect Kim's sense of guilt to know that no matter what she would have done, the arc of the story probably would have bent towards axing him off. And in fact if she didn't do these awful things herself, there's a good chance she would have been in that fridge instead. When I say "Howard deserved it" I really mean "We all knew someone needed to die for the grand finale; it might as well have been him"

Oh yeah, I’m with you on that while no one was expecting Lalo to show up and shoot Howard Kim (and Jimmy) knew that it was more than “just a career setback” and would have a devastating effect not just on Howard’s career, but also his reputation, social life, mental health, etc… But she was able to justify it to herself like you said with “l’ll use the money for a better cause” and “he’d do the same to me” (except I don’t think he would and I’m not sure she’s convinced of it either). But yeah, it’s really interesting that the plan technically DID work! And it would all have “been Ok” had Lalo not shown up

I do wonder how Kim would have grappled with the fallout of the plan, had Howard survived, been disbarred and ostracized, etc…

As far as my Kim v. Chuck headcanon? Well we know there were several years where Kim was working her way up as an associate while Jimmy was still working in the mail room. That means that because the story is largely from Jimmy's perspective, there were probably many interactions between Kim and Chuck we didn't see. We know Kim admired Chuck at one point, but by the time he's hospitalized, when Kim is asked if Chuck behaves "irrationally" she just goes quiet. And sure you can say that's just because his mental health has been declining with the EHS stuff, but I think there was an actual point in the timeline where she lost respect for him.

Knowing Kim, I wouldn't be surprised if there was a case - let's call it "State v. Maxim" - that had some sort of heavy precedent on women's rights. And Kim was heavily skeptical of Chuck's strategy, but he dismissed her misgivings as her being a greenhorn. HHM lost the case and set a bad precedent, but that's not why Kim held a grudge. No. She lost respect for Chuck because she saw Chuck would sooner blame the courts than admit he did a bad job. And it set her early on a track of "I need to be at the same level of authority as these old white dudes or higher if possible" but at the time she still thought she could break that glass ceiling just by working hard.

My only evidence this happened - besides just thinking it adds an interesting fucked up layer to her decision to help Jimmy in Season 3 - is a cryptic line from Season 1 where Rich tells Chuck he "always expected him to be arguing in front of the supreme court one day" and Chuck just goes uncomfortably silent. As if Chuck had the chance once upon a time and blew it.

And of course my other headcanon (although State v. Maxim fits into it) is the Blue Iris theory - that Kim was dealing with a pregnancy scare at some point between "Hit and Run" and "Point and Shoot" and that at least CONTRIBUTED to why she was acting like such a freak instead of telling Jimmy that Lalo was alive. She thought she was going get the settlement money, THEN she would be able to pull him out of the cartel and they would either skip town or just hire a shitload of body guards, and they would live happily ever after using the Sandpiper nest egg to finally put the past behind them. Then Howard got popped and she realized if she just kept getting in deeper, she was going to get both Jimmy and herself killed. She felt like having a normal life with him was a pipe dream and she was stupid for thinking she could have it. Besides, I think she was already kind of a tokophobe, and if she didn't view her bond with her own mother as something monstrous before, she certainly did then! She realized she could NOT allow a child to be brought into this mess.

Ooh I love that headcanon with Chuck! I totally envision something like that happening. Chuck may have been correct in the whole switched address chicanery, but his refusal to back down and admit mistakes definitely seems in character, even in situations where he IS wrong and DID make a mistake

I could definitely see him ignoring a woman’s voice in a case concerning women’s rights, because she’s a newer lawyer and not as experienced professionally

The idea of Kim possibly being pregnant during that whole arc and not telling Jimmy about Lalo being alive still because of that is fun

Departing pretty broadly from the established canon now, but I believe in the week she was dealing with that (it was only stress-related amenorrhea, but given Kim's strong sense of independence the possibility sent her spiraling) one night she stayed up late after Jimmy went to bed and happened to catch a midnight broadcast of Dario Argento's "Suspiria" on the classic movies channel. Something about that movie - the feeling it creates, the lighting, the music - it just infected her dreams. Became permanently entangled with the questions that crazy week left her with: "What if she was being watched by something even more dangerous than the cartel? Something invisible. If Howard's death was so statistically unlikely, why is it her gut knew this would happen all along? And if she and Jimmy really were poison together, what would their child have been like?" She ran to the opposite side of the country, but the song wouldn't leave her alone. The dreams/nightmares of those hauntingly beautiful blue eyes wouldn't leave her alone.

#kim wexler #better call saul #crack theory #breaking bad headcanons #femcel #probably tmi

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hotchs-bitch · 2 years ago

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Fluffy Feb Day 12- Jewel

Warnings: established relationship, sugar daddy hotch, mentions of sex, feelings of guilt (aka I addressed my main issue with sugar daddy fics thx)

Pairing: Hotch x blank slate Fem!Reader (no use of y/n)

Word Count: 923

A/N: you can find a visual for the watch here, if you want it. If I do say so myself, it is an incredibly sexy watch and it makes me want to write a pt 2 to my watch blurb

Having a sugar daddy is completely new to you. It’s new to Aaron too, but after meeting on a sugar daddy site the two of you had agreed to give it a try together.

All these handbooks and websites and Tiktoks about how to get money from an older, well-off man, and not one of them had warned you about the guilt. He wants to give you his money, wants to buy you things, but there’s still a twinge in your stomach every time Aaron pays for dinner or gifts you a new dress.

“Do you just feel like you’re buying me?” You ask bluntly one night when the two of you are lying in bed. You’ve just had sex- very good sex, for the record; Aaron totally knows what he’s doing for someone who hasn’t fucked since he was married- spurred on by the lingerie you’d bought with his money today. You’re spent, breathing heavily and trying to come back down to earth, and you’ve totally ruined the mood.

You can feel Aaron’s frown before you can see it, and he pulls his face out of the crook of his neck where he’s been laving you with kisses. “What? Princess, what are you talking about?”

The crease between his eyebrows begs you to smooth it, so you do just that with your thumb before letting your hand rest on his cheek. “I don’t know,” you say, but that’s not true so you try again. “Do you think I’m just here for money? Like you’re just buying my company, or sex?”

Understanding dawns in Aaron’s eyes. “Am I?” He brushes a chaste kiss to your jaw.

“No.” The question feels more like an accusation, and your answer is as quick as it is firm. “I like spending time with you. I like you.”

“Then we’re okay,” he promises, “because I don’t think you’re just here for my money. And even if you are…” he averts his gaze, and you run your fingers through your hair twice in the time it takes him to figure out his thoughts before speaking. “The money is just what brought you to me. I’d do anything for you to stay, and if that’s using money, then so be it.”

The money is just what brought you to me.

It’s a sentence that bounces around your mind and lets you spend several days ruminating on it. You didn’t quite know what to say to that in the moment- you still don’t, to be honest- but it’s a perfect way to summarize how you feel, too.

At some point, it clicks for you; the way to show Aaron that you aren’t with him for his money is to spend money on him, isn’t it?

That’s how you wind up at a local jeweller, looking through different necklaces and rings and a few anklets geared towards men. You end up settling on a watch, a Submariner Date Rolex with a sapphire faceband and diamond hour markers.

It’s nothing you could ever afford on your own, but Aaron spoils you so much; it’s going to feel so good to repay the favour. The saleswoman talks about the watch, gives you stats about it you can’t hope to understand- 18k gold? Swiss made? Rolex calibre of 3135? You hardly understand a thing she’s saying, but you understand ‘31 jewels’ well enough, so you swipe your credit card and try to act like you know what you’re doing.

Aaron comes over that night around the same time he normally does. Instead of getting dressed up and going out, the two of you have decided to spend the night in, cook dinner together, and watch a movie.

Sometime between your second glass of white wine and watching Aaron sing along to classic rock into a whisk while he makes spaghetti sauce, your heart starts to ache. Even if his question the other night was rhetorical, how could he ever believe that you would give up this if he didn’t have money?

Your plan to wait until after dinner is thrown out the window. Instead, you replace the whisk in his hand with a Rolex box and place a kiss to his cheek. It’s almost comical, the way Aaron’s eyes widen when he reads the box. “Princess, you really didn’t need to,” he protests. “You should save your money, you don’t need to waste it on me.”

“The money,” you remind him, bringing up his other hand to help him open the box, “Is just what brought you to me. Take a look.”

Aaron’s face flushes as he takes in the watch, his mouth opening and closing a few times as he presumably tries to figure out what to say. “I love you,” is what he settles on, and he says it in a voice that’s as thick with emotion as it is hoarse.

“I love you more.” You laugh aloud when he pulls you into his arms, discarding the box on the counter as he kisses you deeply.

“That’s an expensive watch,” he says when you finally break apart, and you beam at him.

“It’s worth it. I don’t regret it.”

“I know you don’t.” He chucks your chin gently, smiling broadly as he shakes his head. “But I’m going to be paying your rent for months now.”

“I’d take you, money or not,” you tell him, and you mean it. Your face splits into an even wider grin, and you wrap your arms around his neck. “This is just a really great side bonus.”

Fluffy Feb masterlist | < Prev Day | Next Day >

Fluffy Feb tags: @doctorsteths-fluffyfeb @iammirrorball @hausofwhores @allthefandomstogether @myweepingangel @hotched @spacecowboyhotch @chibsytelford @honeybrowne @formulapierre @nd264 @hotchnerxnegan1017 (send me a dm or ask to be tagged!)

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ink-beneath-her-fingernails · 2 years ago

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ok but pjo au where the demigods slowly start gaining more powers and not all of them are tied to their parents

and maybe they don’t realize it at first. maybe the gods realize it before them and get scared. maybe none of them realize it at all for a while. but the demigods are out there. they’re traveling the world. they’re doing shit. and stories are spreading and social media is launching a whole bunch of shit and slowly the gods start losing their power and the demigods start gaining new ones

maybe annabeth leaves to go scout something out during capture the flag, and completely fades from sight as she does. it’s such a normal thing to them that nobody thinks to question it, they hardly even remember that her yankee cap is still stuffed in her backpack in cabin six from their last terrifying adventure. maybe percy loses the curse of achilles but the thing about amnesia is he kind of forgot he even had it in the first place, and nothing anyone does to him really seems to hurt him still, so everyone who knew he had it kind of just... assumes he still does when they see him again. they forget that he is of the deep sea, or maybe once was, or will be, and to be someone who lives and breathes and walks on the surface of the earth with no issues and still be able to survive in the depths, under such immense pressure, his skin is made of stuff stronger than the styx can conjure, and if it wasn’t then, it is now. maybe piper’s starting to see things now, visions of what once were there, or might have been, or will be, beyond when she’s looking in the knife, beyond the normal demigod dreams, not quite prophetic like rachel. it’s more like she suddenly has access to all the possibilities, and that is a very different, very dangerous thing, and she doesn’t know how to swallow it.

because what gives them power is belief, right? and people are starting to believe in them. they’re starting to talk about them, and give them names and domains and stories and offerings

maybe prophecies are a lot more opportunities than they let on. maybe every quest for the gods is a path of mortals they leave a little better than they find them, carved across continents. maybe a couple of kids get lost in the woods for weeks and weeks and just when people are starting to give up hope of finding them, a group of teen girls lead them out from the tree line, silver jackets thrown over their quaking shoulders, before disappearing into the ether. maybe someone’s car breaks down, and it’s the middle of winter and they don’t know how to fix it and they don’t have the time or money to take it into a mechanic, and they’re starting to panic because they need this car, and then this kid they saw at the soup kitchen earlier shows up out of nowhere, and they assumed the kid was there with family but they’re not, they’re here all alone, they say they’re new in town and not planning to stay for long, and when the kid asks why they’re still here and the person explains the situation to them, this kid just grins. easy, no problem, just give me a bit. and they say they can’t pay them and the kid just laughs it off, and an hour later they’re five bucks lighter because they bought the kid a sandwich and water from the corner store, and their car is in better condition than they bought it in, can go twice the distance on half the gas, and the kid bounces before they can even ask what their name is or dig out their phone to call child services and what do you mean their car can fly now. maybe a little girl is terrified because her parents aren’t home yet, and she has a new babysitter, has for three weeks now, but everyone else says she’s the same lady as before, that they’ve known each other for ages, but she keeps looking and looking and looking at the thing that smiles with too many teeth, that laughs a beat too long, that doesn’t know how she likes her sandwiches cut, that parts its hair on the wrong side, and she knows that this is not her babysitter. it’s not hurting her, because she has two flesh and blood bio parents even if they have to work a lot, it’s not doing anything, but her babysitter is missing and no one believes her. and then this guy who kind of looks like her older cousin (but not how her not-babysitter kind of looks like her babysitter) hears her talking to herself about it in the corner of the playground and puts a hand on her shoulder and promises that it’ll be alright. and then her not-babysitter is gone and no one talks about her anymore, but they aren’t insisting that nothing’s changed this time, either, and the new babysitter looks very, very different and doesn’t pretend to be something they’re not.

...and so on and so forth. and these not-gods are something real and tangible and are actually helping people in a very real and impactful way even if those people might not exactly see the full gamut of what they’re doing because ~mist~. and that spreads, and leads to more stories, and more belief, and more than all of that, it even gets them something they never asked for, something like devotion.

and they’re not gods, not really, like the gods aren’t titans and the gods aren’t primordials. they’re something else. maybe a step down, maybe one or two to the left, but... close enough, really.

idk just. the demigods getting to have a little bit of otherworldly power their parents aren’t directly responsible and some eldritch confusion. as a treat.

#maybe bc the gods bleed gold and mortals bleed red the demigods USED to bleed red but as this goes on their blood starts turning bronze #and now they're called bronze bloods or something idk #have a hunch that i am never ever going to finish the wips that sprouted from this so i am just. SCREAMS #percy jackson and the olympians #percy jackson and the heroes of olympus #heroes of olympus #percy jackson #ramble #fanfiction prompt #? i guess #i mean if anyone wants to take a crack at it go ahead #pjo #hoo

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fruit-salad-ship · 1 year ago

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Cyberpunk au thoughts while I can’t sleep.

Grey is as city kid as he gets, undercuts his competitors, gambles, cheats, but comes out on top most of the time. Though peach has had to save his sorry ass once or twice. LOVES working on her, she’s got her hands on some seriously expensive, unusual tech, he figures out all too quickly she’s a corpo run away, the gear she’s using is too high quality to be street installed, you don’t even see this in the military. Whatever she’s working with is clearly a set of unusual prototypes. She doesn’t explain where she got them, only that no one but him needs to know this. Strike it from the records.

He does a good job keeping peach in working order, despite how many odd bugs her gear has, they don’t seem to be lasting or fatal, but she can patch in and out from time to time, a very mild form of cyber psychosis, lasts a few seconds at best, but it’s like the gear she’s got has been engineered to combat that illness, and is doing a good job of keeping it at bay. He however knows that she can’t remove this gear, can’t downsize at all, ever, if she does she’ll snap like a twig and go nuts. Whatever she’s got, she’s stuck with it. His competence and discrete methods are useful to her, it’s the only reason she sticks with the big lug, that and he owes her a lot of money from her paying his gambling debts off. He gets to see how top of the line chrome works, and in turn can make his installs on more ordinary equipment far better, gaining notoriety for his work fast. And perhaps he’s entertaining, so peach gets to cash in maintenance to cover what he owes her, he’s skilled enough to tamper with her kit and not kill her in the process.

It’s a love hate situation, he jokes he could just install faulty gear, remove something while she’s under, and she snidely bites back that he won’t find a better bodyguard if she dies because of his half assed work, and her dying isn’t good for business. All bark no bite, the both of them. They would kill for each other but won’t ever say it, you got to be tough in the streets, no signs of weakness or soft methods, or people walk all over you. But they drink and laugh together, and bond eventually over beating up punk ass kids trying to mug them on the street.

Plum fist shows up at the door of a club peach is bouncing on, pretends to have no eddies, and says she’ll pay her tab in a more fun way. Peach is irked, doesn’t like the advances, hears it all the time, you can’t pay, then you get thrown out, or the venue owners might even salvage some of your installed tech to pay the debt. Plus plum’s too nosey, peach caught her trying to dive into her head, but her pricey corpo security got in the way, software to prevent people finding out just who she is and where she came from. She upgraded and maxed out that line of defence so no one knew how to crack her. The plan to get this woman alone to short her cyberwars out and get her picked up and taken home flatlines, plum is left with no choice, has to accept defeat this time and try again some other way. She leaves, and peach is left to do her job, charming some of the staff, enjoying a drink at the end of her shift and heading home. Plum loses her in the streets, somehow she’s pretty sly for someone so big.

Next time they meet peach recognises her instantly, doesn’t like that she slid up next to her at some back alley noodle bar while she’s getting ready to go to work, tells her to get lost. Plum does not. Obviously. In fact she just keeps following her, not a threat, but definitely annoying as all hell. Hangs about during her job, tries to charm her into a drink, fails, and this goes on for a while, weeks even.

Eventually being worn down, peach just accepts that plums not going anywhere, and annoyingly she’s proven useful on rare occasion, shutting people’s cyberware down who try to pick fights in the street, jamming guns pulled on her even though her armour upgrades can take the hit. Plum pretends she doesn’t know exactly what tech her target is working with. Eventually peach sits down at a bar and buys this woman a drink, saved her some scrapes and bruises, asks just what her angle is. Why’s she doing this? The only thing plum can do is lie, and she does well, says she knows peach from a long time ago, remembers her from school, a seriously high powered academy, that plum knew her from there meant she too was from a powerful place. But she says she’s running, and apparently peach did that pretty well, no one’s been able to find her, plum stresses that no one’s been able to find her since she disappeared, so who better to get tips from than someone who did it so well people stopped looking for her? Every red flag is raised, this little woman knows her, and if she knows her, and she’s here, who’s stopping others coming after her? How did she even find her? Plum says it was luck, right bar, right might, right time. It’s all a little too convenient. The questions are rigorous, but to peach, plum seems like she’s genuinely trying to get away from it all, plum paints this sob story, about being neglected and having a crap life, how money didn’t help, it just was a tool for manipulation, the evil shit she had to do to fit in. Peach isn’t buying it, but definitely understands the sentiment, IF it’s honest. And for now, despite her worries, tolerates plum being around. She got out, maybe it’s not impossible to think someone else did too. At least until she can prove one way or another that this woman’s telling the truth or not, she will put up with her. Plum is now right where she needs to be, getting closer to her target. There’s a lot of money riding on getting peach back to her family, she could gain some huge favours for completing this, make leaps in the corporate world.

Peach can’t hack well, it’s not her thing, she was always more athletic, better with a gun, with a weapon, with her hands, so background checking plum isn’t an option, but she asks grey to do it. He is ok at this, not the best but not the worst, regardless, he comes up with nothing, plums backgrounds been wiped for this job she’s doing, she’s been given a fake life, fake crimes committed, and even to him, it looks pretty believable. They’re none the wiser that she’s just infiltrating their ranks, and peach seems more open to her story knowing the records track. But she is aware that if this is a lie, the first thing someone would do would be to write a new past. She did it, it’s not impossible to think someone else could.

Life becomes more difficult for plum. Peach’s upgrades have rendered her too tough to take out in one hit, even if she’s fully hacked and immobilised, she’s surrounded herself with loyal people who she’s helped and who owe her, getting her alone is hard, and harder yet is getting her picked up by corpo security. Plum has a ten minute window to do it before peach would be back up and running, and passed off. Plums got to nail the hack before even a single interruption can occur, no mistakes, even in her impossibly tight.y encoded mind. Whatever’s been installed in this woman was to stop people hacking her long term, following her, or diving into her records. And so the long con begins. Charm her, be sweet, be naughty, be devious, be smart, be whatever peach wants to let her get closer, get in her home, behind locked doors where help won’t arrive in time. But peach is cautious, doesn’t cave to the attempts to woo her, gets a weird vibe off plum. It takes plum months, nearly a year to wear her acquaintance down. But eventually peach seems relaxed enough around her. She can be in her lap and not cause her to be on edge, plums able to get real close, enough to manually override her operating systems as soon as soon as that windows there, and the time is right. She’s charmed herself into a strategic position.

Only problem is plum is starting to see the genuine appeal. She’s getting more shreds of this woman’s past, honest stories that actually paint a worse picture than she thought, and soon there’s a realisation that in sending peach home, she’d be sentencing her to a fate worse than death, living as a person she hates, doing things she never wanted to do, following the steps of a family she did not want to be part of. Eventually plum realises death might still come for her, some of the family want peach gone, some want her to stay away, stay in the streets, not return to take up the mantle. They’ll kill her if she comes back, or try at least. Somehow staying in the deadly streets of the city is safer than the walls of her home.

Suddenly it makes sense, grey overhears these conversations, they hang out in his den, where he works on clients, he isn’t oblivious to their chats. Peach’s implants are so special because she’s the test subject. When she ran, she ran with crazy expensive one of a kind gear, and the family want it back, those assets, HER, both are invaluable, they’re not just off the shelf, these are made to turn this woman into a killer, a real killer, one who’ll get away with it no matter what. They’re custom fit to her genetic code, you can’t rip them out and stick them in someone else, you can’t tamper with them, they’re unique and the engineering that’s gone into them is above and beyond what’s available even at the highest pay grade. Peach’s family want their little murderer back, to complete the install process, she’s missing a couple parts still, they want to finish the job and finally have her back working for them.

Then comes the moment plum had been hoping for. A little drunk, a little high, a little tired, peach lets her into her home, a small apartment full of plants, tidier and far more thought out than plum had expected. She has the shot, that loud city ambiance the only real sound as her host is kind enough to offer a drink, to pull a smoke, to let her into her life more than ever before. Plum questions if she can hand her in, take the money, take the power and just pretend like the last year with her wasn’t fun, and interesting, and real, especially compared to how plum’s old life was. Locked up in her room diving into files and memories, not making her own. But she lived, for real, even if only for a moment, beside peach and grey.

Peach catches plum in the corner of her eye, her vision patching in and out, plums tampering with her tech, she let her into her home and the second her back was turned this little devious snake turned around and bit her. She goes down hard, a system key given by peach’s family able to shut down the cyberware temporarily, ceasing her up, she’s vulnerable, she’s barely conscious, and yet she’s looking at her. There is anger, and then after a while, the anger subsides, and it’s just sorrow. Peach realises who she let close, a traitor, someone sent to bring her home. Plum apologises, sees her target finally fall unconscious and is left to sit and hover over the option of calling in the security detail to pick them up. It’d be so fast, so easy, the moneys right there, the powers right there. Plum realises if she doesn’t get peach home she’s as good as dead, not only would peach try to kill her no doubt, but her family would for failing too…but if she does complete the job and goes home to continue her isolated life in a tall tower away from everyone, that peach would be crushed down to fit the job role she was designated with, filled with tech she didn’t want, until it no doubt took over who she was leaving a compliant husk of her former self. She’d be a walking weapon, nothing more.

Plum doesn’t know what to do.

#ok now I can try to not think about this #and fail #and think about it constantly #fruit salad #brainrot #cyberpunk au

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ftm2bbw · 2 years ago

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As you stood outside in the 95°F sun, dressed in a full-length cow print onesie and twirling a sign around to this shit-ass chain restaurant, you were wishing you could be doing literally anything else. The cheap, polyester fabric was completely unbreathable, trapping in every ounce of sweat as you put on your little show shilling for the overpriced food and underdressed servers. It wasn’t like you even liked this place; it was a low-rent gimmick restaurant called “Out to Pasture” and their claim to fame was that their waitresses would wear skimpy cowgirl costumes: cow print bikinis with elbow-length gloves, cowbell chokers, and a horned headband with cow ears on the sides. It was all pretty ridiculous, and you couldn’t even appreciate the view because you were stuck out here in the sweltering heat. You needed the money though, and they didn’t give you any hassle about covering your hormones on their health plan, so you figured you would just have to grin and bear it.

Or at least you would later, because as your watch started beeping, you knew that it was break time. Drenched in sweat, you made your way through the lobby to the breakroom in the back, hoping to cool off. Parking yourself in front of a fan, you unzipped the onesie down your navel, exposing the top of your ample stomach and showing off the plain, black fabric of your binder. Your friend Cathy, one of the bustier servers and the one who helped you get this job in the first place, stared at you like she had another one of her brilliant ideas. She pulled out a little pill bottle and handed it to you.

“Try it,” she said sweetly, “I always take one to take the edge off when I’m on the job. It gets pretty warm in here too. Take it with water and you’ll be cooling off all day.”

And with that, she bounded off back to her shift, bouncing in her uniform all the while. You had your doubts about her mystery pills, but you were sweltering out there, so it wasn’t like you had many options. With pill in hand, a paper cup with water, and some cheesecake you snuck from the fridge (you were hungry, shut up), you took a moment to dab away some of your sweat and zip yourself back up. Standing on the sidewalk and back in the sun, you had to admit, you did feel at least a little cooler. Maybe she was on to something with those pills. You’ll have to ask her where she got them fr-ACK!

You suddenly felt a rumbling sensation in your stomach. It gurgled and complained like you wouldn’t believe. “Fucking Cathy: never listening to one of her stupid ideas again,” you thought to yourself as you clutched at your mid-section. Just as soon as it came on, it stopped, but was soon replaced with the feeling of your chest vaulting forward. They surged in size, swelling to watermelons in a matter of seconds. Your binder was no match for them and you felt the spandex collapse and burst inside the onesie. The titanic, swelling bust pushed against the polyester fabric, filling out the bust of your onesie and threatening to burst out. Little tears were forming in your sides, exposing puffy bits of chest and back fat. Your nipples rubbed and chafed against the fabric and you fell to your knees in pleasure. You might not be sweating from the sun anymore, but you were feeling sweaty for an entirely different reason.

Hearing the commotion, Cathy had come running outside to see what was the matter. She asked you what was wrong.

“Those stupid pills you gave me did this!”

“You didn’t take any dairy with it, did you? If you took any dairy with it, you’d start producing truckloads of milk.”

“...just a little bit of cheesecake.” you whimpered sheepishly, feeling an unbearable stirring in your womb and chest. “A bunch of cheesecake.”

With that, you could feel wet patches on the inside of your onesie. Your continually swelling teats, compressed and squished by the now unbearably tight polyester, had begun seeping milk from the pressure. Pressure that now was about to burst out. The tears in the sides of the fabric had grown, showing off whole windows of tit meat, holding their integrity for dear life. They finally give up and collapse in a resounding rip. You could finally see the full size of your swelling bust: enormous beach balls filled to the brim and leaving streams of cream on the sidewalk. You were a more appropriate mascot for Out to Pasture than ever before. Kneading your fat teats and blushing at the size of them, you asked Cathy how big you would get. She admitted that she didn’t know.

You gave her a wry look, held out her pill bottle, and asked, “want to find out?”

Mmm, I do love cheesecake...

I wouldn't be able to stop feeling up my heaving udders, even there on the sidewalk. Hefting them and kneading into all that heavy softness, working my hands towards my nipples to milk myself and get some relief.

I wonder if I'd get a promotion then, after such a transformation. I'm sure it would come with enough of a pay bump I'd have a hard time saying no. Encouraged to show off and revel in my newfound assets, even as my brain ping pongs between embarrassment and pleasure.

And I wonder if there'd be an incentive to swell even bigger...

#i want a cow onesie now lol #also sorry it's been a nutty week and I fully forgot this was sitting in my inbox #ask.txt

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kyewinslcw · 5 months ago

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Name: Kye Matthew Winslow

Faceclaim: Glen Powell

Gender & Pronouns: CIS-man & he/him

Age: 35

Birthday: November 5th, 1988

Occupation: Con man pretending to be a Financial Advisor

Neighborhood: Midtown

Does your character have a secret? He's trying to con Wright Inc.

Would you be willing to have this secret used against them at some point in the future? Yes.

gifs credited to @sebegifs

Biography

Kye Matthew Winslow was born on November 5th 1988, his life a rollercoaster from the start. He never knew his dad, and his mom bailed when he was just 8 years old. That kicked off a string of foster homes for the next 8 years, leaving him with trust issues and a chip on his shoulder. When he turned 16, his mom showed up out of the blue. She swore she'd changed—wanting to make things right. Kye, hoping for some stability, gave her a chance. But true to form, she took off again a few months later, leaving him even more bitter than before.

After his mom's latest disappearing act, Kye met Robert Vance. Robert was a con man, no doubt about it, but he was also the first person to show genuine interest in Kye's well-being. Instead of pushing him towards college, Robert saw potential in the kid's good looks and street smarts. He took the young boy under his wing, teaching him the ins and outs of the con game. Kye turned out to be a natural. His handsome face and charm made people trust him easily, and he quickly became one of the best in the business. While he could con vulnerable older women with ease, he didn't enjoy it much. Instead, he preferred to set his sights on bigger, less sympathetic targets.

Over the years, Kye pulled off all sorts of scams. He ran investment cons, convincing people to pour money into fake businesses with promises of big returns. He'd pose as a financial advisor, using fancy words and fake credentials to swindle rich folks. He even got into identity theft, using his tech skills to create fake personas and credit lines. One of his favorite cons was playing the part of a rich heir. He'd sneak into high-society events, rubbing elbows with the elite. Once he gained their trust, he'd use those connections to sell forged artwork or set up heists of valuable pieces.

Despite his success, Kye couldn't shake the anger and hurt from his childhood. The holes left by his absent parents drove him to seek validation through his cons. It was this need for answers that led him to dig into his father's identity. What he found out threw him for a loop. His biological dad was in prison for manslaughter. While he had zero interest in building a relationship with the guy, one detail caught his eye—his old man was loaded. This discovery set the wheels turning in his mind, sparking a plan that would lead him to Wilmington, North Carolina. Armed with this new information, he decided to head to Wilmington a week ago. It was there he learned he had a half-brother named Lincoln Reid. This news stirred up a mix of feelings—curiosity about the brother he never knew, envy over the life he might have had, and a crack in the emotional walls he had built over the years.

He married Josephine Drayton about a year ago in Vegas, where she ran away right after. He didn't chase after her, but realizing that she also lives in Wilmington, he decided it was time he got some answers from her. He might not be mad at her, but there was a lot of confusion on his end since he never got attached to anyone. Yet, he was to her.

Now 35, he is gearing up for his biggest con yet. His target? Wright Inc., the company tied to his newfound family's wealth. For Kye, this isn't just about the money. It's about taking what he feels is rightfully his.

tl;dr

Kye Matthew Winslow had a turbulent childhood. His parents abandoned him and he ended up bouncing from foster home to foster home. At 16, after his mom abandoned him for a second time—he met Robert Vance, who taught him the art of con artistry. He excelled in various scams, targeting wealthy individuals and businesses. Recently, he discovered his imprisoned biological father is wealthy and he has a half-brother named Lincoln Reid in Wilmington, NC. He also learned his estranged wife, Josephine Drayton, lives there. Now at 35, he's planning his biggest con yet against Wright Inc., the company tied to his newfound family's wealth. For his, this scheme is about more than money—it's about claiming what he believes is rightfully his. He has a golden retriever named Scout.

Wanted Connections:

(Wife) her: They should be all wrong for each other, yet somehow they fit perfectly. Josephine Drayton

Half-brother: Lincoln Reid.

People from his past: He could have conned them or known them from his ‘travels’ since he’s not the kind of guy to put down roots.

Enemies: I expect this man to have a lot of them.

Cyber Security: While he’s a conman, he’s really good at cyber security. Maybe your muse and Kye could have worked together—not knowing he’s a con man.

Friends: He doesn’t have very many friend (for a great reason) but give this boy some friends.

Boxing: He boxes to keep fit and let out his aggression.

Gym Buddies:

Neighbors:

#wnc.intro

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rantsintechnicolor · 1 year ago

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When you get married on Monday…

The economy isn’t what it was. Children can’t have what their parents had. We can have a big wedding, a downpayment on a house, kids, or we can start a business. It is incredibly difficult to have all those things.

We’ve been to countless weddings, and the take away is: what a lovely party. Dinner, dancing, and a show. Don’t get me wrong. I love weddings. But I probably would have enjoyed planning one, and we had this idea to have the guests help pay in lieu of gifts, like a Kickstarter wedding. The more money that piled in would mean we could add things like a band, a bounce house for kids, and maybe one for adults, too, a venue upgrade, a cake upgrade, a bar upgrade, etc. But we had other priorities. And when you’ve been to countless weddings that were so enjoyable, it just seems like we don’t need to have one and we had other things planned for our money.

In fact, money is why we got married. We didn’t need a public ceremony to prove to everyone we were committed. We didn’t need the family reunion that usually happens at weddings (my brother did that, and what a glorious occasion it was). I’m not even sure we would have had as well-attended a wedding as he did anyway, given we are queer and the majority of our family is Catholic and born again Christian. So, it’s just as well that we got married with our closest friends in our kitchen/dining room on a Monday.

We decided to get married and did the deed two weeks later. We didn’t tell anyone except our officiant (we were her bride’s spinsters, lol). I got her deputized the Friday before with the county to perform the ceremony. We had our regular supper club on Monday, which made finding witness signatures easy.

When we decided to get married, it was for the tax cut. This tax cut only works when one partner has a lower income or no income, favoring the folks where one can stay home to raise children, the folks that don’t both have to work to make ends meet. Which is pretty racist, as it turns out. But I digress…

I had long given up on the idea that I would have a wedding. I was excited. It was her idea. And it had recently become legal for us. She was very against the assimilatory nature of a wedding for queer folk like us. Fuck the patriarchy and being like those that wanted to reduce our rights. I found her a starter ring, because we were going to upgrade at some point, when we were done building our business. We were going to have the big party at some point too in the tasting room when it was built. But that was over eight years ago in December, and well, we have had other priorities and challenges in the meantime.

When our guests arrived, we asked them to put the food on the sideboard instead of the table. And then announced our intentions to wed in front of them. Squeals of delight and surprise. Our officiant prepared some lovely remarks without being prompted. We didn’t prepare any. Someone had the sense to take a short video and some photos. Our officiant also got us a cake from a famous restaurant and hotel, piled high with pink and white chocolate curls. Honestly, we should have just had cake for dinner because it was so enormous. Exchange rings, kiss, feast, imbibe, hugs.

Easy. Simple. Different. Delightful. Casual. So very casual. Very affordable.

My parents were unhappy. If our officiant knew in three days, surely I could have invited my parents. Yes. Perhaps. But they weren’t going to enjoy it. Not like the folks attending did. Eventually, they got over the snub and gave us the money they were saving for our wedding. We used it to buy a forklift.

#wedding #marriage #monday #supper club #elopment #elope #difficult financial times #difficult financial choices

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the-acid-pear · 2 years ago

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Okay so as i mentioned it was Scooby Doo, except on this version we, the gang, were just actors, and we liked each other but had kind of fell apart so we were now getting back together.

I'll clarify now i think i was Daphne, even though I looked like myself. I believe this because she was the only one missing along with Velma, who I'm sure was my irl friend, and because throught the dream my dad sent me two random messages wailing about money and my PFP on that site was Daphne.

Back to the chronological events of the dream; i believe we had made a party for us, the gang, as a sort of anniversary celebration or something similar, but Fred was missing because he was working on a movie adaptation of our show. I was kind of annoyed he would miss the party but i was like, also happy.

Anyway i kind of fucked a girl on the basements? She tweeted me saying some fake slang like she wanted me to drop some weight on her so i did and then went back to my business. That was the most memorable part of the party.

In what felt like a blink of an eye, i was alone with my friend in the house, and we were being fucking HUNTED DOWN. During this bit lots of typical haunted house things happen; hallucinations, getting lost, losing the other person...

In fact i even remember this specific scene that played again and again with different characters but the exact scenario, where after a voice in my head told me I could leave but not look back i kept seeing a person trying to walk out an open door with their friend but either it's a fake door (in one I saw the whole gang just standing and laughing) or what's fake is the person we are with (in another we made it out but then i realized it wasn't my friend's hand i was holding), going as far as to try to design a plan to beat it.

In the end that was but filler, because the real threat we were facing was a woman who was trying to kill us. So we stood on the door, my friend on front me behind, and when we knew she was there bc the door had glass bits my friend opened the door and the gate outside the door (have y'all ever seen the design? It's common here) to pour a little dust she held in a vial she previously showed me.

Issue is it didn't work. The dust just hit her in the arm and the rest flew away. So the killer pulled my friend out from the half opened gate, leaving me freaking out.

At first i tried to grab the killer's arm to stop her but she was wrestling w my friend and she had a KNIFE and after all we went thru i wasn't gonna let her die so i used my brain and opened the gate with the already inserted key and i pulled away the killer from my friend (who had only gotten some minimal damage) and start pushing her around kind of fighting until i see the car from the house owner and push her head underneath it.

And y'all can imagine where this is going, right?

Well, turns out the driver was in the car? And so she went on reverse and i guess because there was a bump on the sidewalk the car bounced CRUSHING the killer's head, splattering my face with blood. I look at my friend to confirm she's alright and then walk to the driver who was already opening the door.

The woman was visibly confused and was asking what happened and if she hit something but i stopped from getting outside the car by being like "believe me, lady, you don't wanna see that". I then announced outloud i felt like i was in shock (i said going INTO shock but that's not what it was nor what i meant...) feeling my friend agreed upon so i zipped up my... Short sleeve turtleneck jacket betore complaining about feeling cold and hot at the same time.

This was followed right next by Shaggy coming back, and i know i barely mentioned him, but that's because Shaggy didn't spoke s WORD in the whole dream. Man just stood there shyly. Also he changed his style once from long with some facial hair, to medium, and finally to medium with a neck beard. I was actually surprised at the speed he could grow his beard back but this like expected didn't go anywhere.

We were just like "heyyy look who's here!! You don't know what you missed" but we were interrupted by Fred who came by with an old man. A red railway passed on top of my head and for some reason that made me think the movie was already being made, so followed by that, Fred announced to us he had convinced Kubrick, the very same old man next to him, to be the director of the movie. So i laughed and was like "oh typical Fred, going for what's safe! Always a bit of a coward".

He then kept talking but my friend decided to talk too so i was completely unable to understand what Fred was saying, instead only focusing on the things she was commenting on about losing weight climbing a bench with a stairset attached to eat and something about a fucking elephant mask??

Anyway and then woke up and was like Holy Shit. So i waited to get my thoughts straight without losing them and here i am.

Feel free to adapt this surreal version of Scooby Doo, just credit me 😎

I think new Scooby Doo adaptation should use the version i just dreamt of

#luly talks #I'm not sure if scooby was there or not btw #i think he appeared in some scenes but as a regular dog?#anyway i still think fred hiring Kubrick was so fucking

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littlesniggy · 2 years ago

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Predator & Prey - Shanks x female Reader

Hi so I've really been into vampires lately so I decided to write a vampire AU story where Shanks is a vampire and the ready a semi successful hunter with some money problems. And since vampires don't care about money how can she repay him for lending her money? Blood.

Warnings: extortion, money problems, manipulation, dub-con but no smut!, Shanks has both his arms!, blood

Pairings: Vampire! Shanks x Hunter! female reader

Word count: 4.2k

“I thought you never wanted to come back?“ His voice sounds amused and taunting but you ignore it, simply clenching your fists to swallow some snarky retort. The tall man in front of you studies your face curiously, his head slightly cocked to he side.

Your feel ashamed and disgusted about yourself; you have gone over this scenario in your head over and over again, have come up with so many different excuses you could tell him and yet you can’t utter one single of those lies in his presence. You know he would look right through you and any word that isn’t the truth would’ve been for naught anyways. So, you choose to keep your mouth shut. He knows the answer anyways.

“Come, take a seat.” He offers you, pointing to the seat in front of his desk. Hesitantly, your legs start to move, setting one foot in front of the other until they reach their goal. You sink into the soft cushion and make yourself instinctively smaller even though you had planned to look him in the eye confidently and proudly.

“Would you like anything to drink?” he offers but you shake your head. The red-haired man shrugs and pours himself a scotch, downing it in one go.

“How’s your colleague doing?” he asks innocently, studying his empty glass without looking at you. You glare at him, sending all the hate you’re feeling his way – which simply bounces off him. He doesn’t care. You’re not a threat.

“He died.” You press out, making him look up in surprise. “Oh, sad to hear that. Must’ve been hard to lose someone so close.” He muses. Your nails dig into your palms, trying really hard to prevent yourself from snapping right here and now. And whose fault is it, huh?! You want to scream at him but bite your tongue.

“Have you found a replacement for him yet?” now, you can see genuine interest in his eyes and you know exactly why. You alone are no threat to him. You’re a semi-successful hunter with nothing much to offer to him. But there are some very capable colleagues of yours out there and he needs to be careful. If you spill some tea and become a liability he would need to get rid of you. Can’t have you walking around and telling your colleagues some secrets. Even though you would compromise yourself too.

“No, not yet.” You reply, swallowing hard. Shanks raises an eyebrow, not quite believing you but he smiles regardless. You avert your eyes, feeling a slight tingling in your stomach. This damn smile which gives you a false sense of security until he shows you his true self. The same smile which had lured you to him in the first place, which made you trust him for some odd reason.

“Well, hope you can find a new partner soon, Y/n.” he says and finally puts the empty glass down.

“So, shall we get to business?” he asks and you all of a sudden you kind of wish he would keep talking about anything else. You peer over to him, unconsciously biting you bottom lip. “Yes, that’s why I’m here.” You manage to say and Shanks nods in agreement.

“How much do you need this time?” This question is makes you feel ashamed all over again, reminding you of all the mistakes you have made in the past that have led to your predicament.

“Well….50.000….” you admit, closing your eyes as you tell him the sum. Shanks whistles and then chuckles in surprise and shakes his head in disbelief. “That’s a lot of money. Maybe you should consider a change of carrier.” He taunts you, knowing exactly why you have some many money-related problems. Of course, he does. He just loves teasing you.

“I don’t think that’s any of your problem.” You murmur silently. You watch as he looks at you intently while his hand reaches for the drawer of his desk and blindly pulls out the all too familiar check-book. He flips it open, grabs a pen and scribbles a number on it before signing it without another comment.

He slides the piece of paper over the desk towards you, his eyes again trained on yours. You see a glistering in his eyes that sends a shiver down your spine. It’s like he is looking right through and exploring the deepest depth of your soul, discovering things you don’t even know about yourself. These are the eyes of the world’s most dangerous predator.

Unable to hold his intense stare you avert your eyes and reach for the check. For a second your fingers touch and you reflexively draw back, the touch electrifying your entire body. Shanks smiles at your reaction and leans back in his chair. You hesitantly reach for the check again and hastily pull it towards yourself before stuffing it in your purse.

“Now, darling, let’s get to the payment.” He starts, resting his head on his fist, his arms on the armrest.

“50.000 would be twice a week for five months.” You swallow at his words. That’s a lot of blood, you think to yourself. You’re not sure if you’ll be able to give so much blood and still keep up with work but you somehow have to manage.

“You might need to take some vacation days. Wouldn’t want you to get fired because of poor work.” He says deliberating as if he was really worried about you.

“I’ll think about it.” You simply say, glad that it is over for now. You’re about to thank him and get up and out when he starts scratching his beard as if he is thinking about something that just crossed his mind.

“You know what I just had to think about?” he starts and you freeze in your place. This couldn’t be good, right? You stay silent and just wait for him to speak. Your eyes watch this dangerous man get up from his seat and slowly round the desk until he is standing behind you. Your body tenses and your heart stops for a moment when you feel his fingers brush against your exposed neck.

“Would you be interested in slightly reducing the months?” his question has you confused and you turn around to look at him. Bad mistake. You are met with a pair of hungry eyes that tell you exactly what he is thinking about. Fear strikes and you feel cornered and exposed.

“You’ve been so good with your last payments for the previous money I gave you that I wanted to be a bit more accommodating.” He continues. His fingers now caress the thin skin on your neck in circles right over your pulse which is hammering under his touch.

“Wha-….what do you mean?” your throat feels dry and you swallow hard without actually swallowing anything. This has caught you completely off guard and you don’t know how to react. This is new. He never shows interest in actually drinking himself. You just have to go to some shady place, get your blood drawn and go back home. To whom he sells the blood to in the end is none of your concern but you know how much blood can get you on the black market.

He smiles his warm smile and removes his hand, waving at you as if this was just a joke. “You don’t have to. It’s just an offer.” He says before slowly returning to his seat.

You worry your bottom lip between your teeth and the small gears in your brain are working at top speed, trying to weigh the pros and cons of his offer.

“How many months are we talking about?” you manage to ask, earning you a slightly surprised raise of his eyebrow. Instead of sitting down in his chair he leans against his wooden desk and looks down at you, making you feel even more uncomfortable. His intense eyes are basically already devouring you (or rather the sweet, sweet red liquid that flows inside your body and which keeps you alive). Shanks licks his lips unconsciously, pondering over his reply.

“Let’s say either twice a week for two and a half months or once a week for five months.” He suggests, a winning smile in his lips. You swallow. He’s basically cutting your payment in half! You’d be a fool not to accept….

His winning smile turns slightly sinister. “Or we keep the original payment plan…it’s up to you, Y/n.”

You hate making big decisions. Especially under pressure. Now, that you think about it, maybe not the best personality trait for a vampire hunter. Maybe that’s the reason you’re just not making any progress in your career.

And then there is this other thought that has been swirling the back of your head ever since he’s made his offer. You’ve never actually been bitten by a vampire before! Getting your blood drawn from your arm in some shady abandoned factory building by some even shadier men (you presume they were humans judging by the way they acted) was one thing but having a pair of long fangs stuck in your neck, sucking you dry – just the thought of it makes you feel dizzy. What kind of sounds would blood sucking even make right next to your ear?

“Okay.” You hear yourself say and your eyes look up at him. The vampire cocks his head to the side, fake confusion on his features. “Okay what?” he insists, making you say it out loud what you want.

“I’ll take the reduced payment.” A happy smile forms on his lips. “Great! You’re a wonderful business woman. What an excellent decision.” You don’t need to be particularly smart to know that he, at this point, is simply mocking you and your stupidity. Regret forms in the pit of your stomach and you want to vomit at the prospect of what’s about to come.

“I will send a car tonight to pick you up.” He announces and finally sits down on his chair again. Obvious confusion is plastered all over your face and Shanks answers the question that is about to spill from your lips.

“Do you really think I would just drink you dry here and now until you’re barely alive and begging for me to either kill you or save you?” the mental image of you being pressed on top of the desk, his mouth sucking the blood out of your body, the feeling of you becoming weaker and weaker until you feel your mind slowly turn black, all strength leaving your body. You try to push him off of you but it’s simply impossible. He taunts you, taunts your weakness and your helplessness. You beg him to please let you go but you simply can’t move. Hope slowly becomes nothing but a distant memory and you submit to your inevitable fate. Your lips form silent words that beg him to please help you out of your misery, begging him to make the pain go away...

"Kinda..." you admit and charm a genuine laugh from his throat. “I have other plans.” He admits before taking out an old phone, probably a burner phone. “Be ready at 9 p.m. Oh and….maybe take a shower. I can smell your sweat from miles away. Not very appealing.”

The man sitting in the driver’s seat is silent. You see how his hands basically cramp around the steering wheel, his whole posture is tense and on edge. It’s probably not all day that he’s driving a hunter around the city. He’s not stupid enough to think you wouldn’t take some of your weapons with you so he’s is constantly prepared to defend himself.

The cold metal of the gin in your purse gives you some sort of comfort but deep down you know Shanks would just laugh at you if you pointed it at him. Still, you need it.

The car rounds a corner and your eyes grow wide; he couldn’t have chosen a more public place, could he? The gigantic skyscraper with its glowing lights is blinding you for a moment. Your mouth is agape in awe at the sight of the most luxurious hotel in the entire country; and this vampire could just walk in and out as he pleases? Maybe he has connections because usually vampires are not very welcome in any establishments, let alone luxurious hotels.

The car stops and immediately the door is opened by an employee, offering you a hand to get out of the car. Suddenly, you are aware of your outfit and how inappropriate and underdressed you are for a place like this. The man doesn’t comment on your choice of clothes however you notice the slight disdain in his face though you’re not sure if it’s because of your outfit or because of the fact that you’re about to meet up with one of the most dangerous and most notorious vampires out there. Either way, you can’t blame him.

The elevator door opens and you are led towards the only door on this floor. The bellhop knocks on the wooden door, announcing his and your arrival. You can see how he probably would love to just turn around and leave but he’s been trained not to. There is a thin sheen of sweat gathering at the back of his neck.

The door opens and both you and the bellhop tense up at the sight of the red haired vampire in front of you.

“S-sir, your guest has arrived.” The bellhop stutters terrified. Shanks nods and hands him some money before he dismisses him with a hand wave. You envy the young man who can leave the situation but you, on the other hand, have to stay here. Granted, it’s because of your own stupidity and your own decision but still. You want to run away and never come back!

“Come in, Y/n.” he invites you in, opening the door a little wider but you still have to make yourself smaller in order not to touch him when entering. You feel his eyes on you as you pass by him. The silent click when he closes the door behind you feels like you fate has been sealed entirely. You’re trapped in this penthouse hotel suite with someone who has every intention of hurting you sooner or later.

“Would you care for a drink?” he asks, brushing against your shoulder as he walks past you towards the mini bar. “No, thank you.” You press out, all senses on high alert. Shanks looks at you from over his shoulder, one eyebrow raised in question. “Are you sure? They have a very fine wine I’ve been dying to try all night.” He says, pulling out a bottle of red wine.

“I didn’t know vampires care about wine.” You mumble absentmindedly. Shanks chuckles and grabs two wine glasses before filling both with the red liquor. “We don’t.” he simply replies without giving any further explanation and you don’t bother asking. Shanks comes back and offers you one of the glasses. “Thank you.” You say and stare at the liquid, your stomach turning at the sweet smell of the alcohol. You do not feel like drinking but you know he expects it from you regardless. It’s some sort of power play.

“Cheers.” He says and raises his glass. You look up and mimic him before you set the cool glass against your lips and take a small sip. Shanks takes a sip as well, contemplating if he likes the taste or not.

“As expected. Tastes like garbage.” He chuckles to himself and puts the glass down on a table and not giving it another thought.

“Come on, I’ll take that coat off you. It’s pretty warm in here, isn’t it?” you nod even though you feel cold and would really like to keep your coat on but you don’t object. You put down your glass as well as Shanks rounds you and comes to a halt right behind of you. You slowly unzip the zipper and Shanks puts both hands on the collar of your coat, ready to pull it off. His hands graze your neck and you inch away instinctively, pulling your shoulders up in defense.

“Easy there, Y/n. I’m just taking your coat.” He muses, his hands on your coat again, this time taking it off. He hangs it on the coat hanger before he comes back, stopping behind you once again. His hands find your shoulders and the weight is almost crushing. The red-haired man’s face comes closer and you feel the tip of his nose brush against the shell of your ear.

“Loosen up, Y/n.” He whispers as his hands start gently massaging your shoulders. Why is he taking so long? Why does he torture you by delaying the inevitable? You grab your purse tighter, feeling the gun hidden inside precisely. It gives you some kind of reassurance back but still not nearly enough.

“You know, I’d feel more comfortable if you put down that purse of yours….” He mumbles against your ear, sending a cold shiver down your spine. Of course, he knows you have a gun with you. Why are you even surprised? But you hesitate to follow his “order”.

“Really, Y/n? Not even complying a little by taking that gun of yours out? You can have it back once we’re done but I would feel much safer if you didn’t have it on you.” Shanks admits playfully, one hand slowly wandering down your arm towards your hand that’s still clutching your purse. Your grip turns even tighter when you feel his big hand covering yours, gently but firmly loosening your grip around it.

With a sudden surge of adrenaline, you wake up from your mindless state. You push his hand away and stumble forward, away from the man behind you. With trembling hands you fumble with your purse but manage to pull out the gun. You point it at the vampire in a fruitless attempt to look threatening.

Shanks just looks at you sadly, the corners of his mouth turned downwards in a visual show of displeasure. “Are you really pointing a gun at me, Y/n?” he asks, slowly taking a step forward.

“Stay where you are!” you warn him, your finger around the trigger, ready to shoot. But Shanks is not impressed and takes another step forward, and another, until he is standing right in front of you, the gun pointing directly at his heart, pressing against his body.

“If you point a gun at someone you should better be ready to pull the trigger, Y/n.” he taunts you, coaxing you even further backwards only with his presence until you bump against a table. You’re trapped. For your own reassurance you try pushing him away with your gun, looking back and forth between your gun pressed against his chest and his face which turns more and more predatory with every passing second.

Shanks leans forward, not bothered by the weapon pressed against his chest, threatening his life, and watches how you in return lean backwards to keep the distance until your back is lying flat on the table.

“Stay away!” your voice is weak and the vampire sees how scared you are. He has noticed the growing fire inside his stomach; a very good indication at how thirsty he really is. He is a master of self-control but with the prospect of getting a meal very soon slightly clouds his mind.

With one swift motion he grabs your wrists with an iron grip, almost crushing it between his fingers. You let out a surprised and painful scream. You want to pull the trigger but his harsh grip wouldn’t let you move one muscle so you have to just watch as he pushes your hand holding the gun away until he is pinning your wrist down above your head on the table. With his other hand he easily takes the weapon away from you and carelessly throws it into a corner.

Shanks presses his upper body against yours, his left hand grabs your chin between his fingers, forcing you to look at his now red glowing eyes. In the light of the room you can see his fangs in his mouth, ready to sink into your soft flesh.

“S-stop! I changed my mind!” you plead but Shanks simply shakes his head. “I don’t care. You made your decision, so deal with it.” He reprimands you heartlessly. His body wiggles a little, trying to press himself between your legs and eventually succeeding. His crotch is pressed against yours and his free hand is holding your hip in place with an equally iron grip like before.

The hand on your chin turns your face to the side, exposing your most vulnerable part to the hungry vampire above you. You press your eyes shut, holding your breath as Shanks’ lips gently caress your skin. His tongue darts out between his lips and follows the aorta, eliciting an audible gasp from you. As petrified as you are, you can’t deny that the feeling of his mouth against your neck right now is not unpleasant.

Shanks stops for a moment, his hot breath ghosting your damp skin. He turns your head back to face him, his own merely inches away from yours. His eyes are hooded, pupils blown wide and the dark red equally enticing and terrifying. You are caught in an invisible web you can’t seem nor want to break free from. Your body relaxes and you unconsciously widen your legs a little bit.

The deepest depths of your mind are screaming for you to not give in; you know it’s a tactic; you know he is making your body willing. It is all part of his predatory nature before he strikes and kills his prey. But your body ignores your mind’s warning.

“Weak little human.” Shanks mumbles, examining your willing body for a moment before his attention is back on your neck. “Don’t take this personal.” Is his last warning.

You willingly turn your head to the side again. Out of the corner of your eyes you see his read hear disappear out of your sight. Instead, you feel the stubbles of his beard against your skin. Your body is hot and on edge, anticipating the moment his fangs enter your body. You barely heat his words and you don’t care what he just said…

…that is until an enormous amount of pain surges through your neck and explodes. You want to kick, you want to scream, you want to turn your head to deny him any more access to your neck but Shanks is a seasoned vampire. His lower body which is pressing against yours is preventing you from kicking him, his right hand grabs both of your wrists and pins them against the tabletop and his left hand holds your head in place. In other words: he is completely restricting any movement.

It feels like someone just stabbed you with a knife in the neck. Your blood is rushing in your ears and you don’t know if it’s the adrenaline or Shanks sucking. Either way it is deafening and you have the feeling of losing consciousness any moment. Has he already sucked you dry? Are you dying?

The steady sound of Shanks swallowing your blood has you sobbing soon. The kicking and struggling has turned into fear and acceptance. Tears stream down your face and onto the surface of the table; your chest is heaving with every sob, the tears blurring your vision.

Shanks notices how your resistance slowly stops and he smiles against your neck. Now he has you. Now, you’re completely his. Now, he can do with you whatever he wants. You’re scared to death; you fear for your life and you know he can end your life with one single bite and there is nothing you can do about it.

He slowly pulls his teeth back out before his tongue licks at the two small holes where your blood is dripping out. His grip around your wrists and on your face eases until he lets go and stand back up, his now normal eyes looking down at you. His lips are red from your blood as well as his tongue which licks the rest of It from his lips.

“Thank you for the meal, Y/n. It was much appreciated.” He thanks you but you can’t hear him. Only out of the corners of your eyes you watch him take a few steps back until he disappears from your sight.

From what seems like far away you hear his voice. “Stay like this for as long as you like. But I believe you’re all too familiar with blood loss, right, Y/n?” referring to your previous payments to him from various loans. You stay silent. You can’t talk, you can’t move, you can’t think. Right now, you’re just a body which is lying on the table, still trying to fathom what just happened.

The only thing you are entirely sure about is that you are in even deeper trouble than you were before.

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