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severetimetravelnerd · 4 years ago

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Hatred and Love (ft. G Dragon) Mafia AU

Part 5

Jiyong finally asks you about Jongin.

(I don’t own any of the images used. All credit goes to the original owners.)

Taglist:

@unabashedturkeytreeslime

@happiestgirlontheeastcoast

@kwonnansi

@aarfyie

If there is anyone else who would like to be tagged, you can comment or leave me a message :))

I only write on this blog on tumblr, so if you see my work on any other platform, please let me know immediately.

Okay, so this is a mafia AU. It has appearances from Daesung, Taeyang, TOP, Mino, Hanbin and EXO (mostly Kai). This continues with the EXO storyline, but again, I have nothing against EXO :)) I love them, but I had to use someone for the plot

Warnings: Violence, Death(not main character), Injury, Blood, Eventual smut, Abduction, Guns and Knives, language, emotional breakdown. This chapter has the beginning of hardcore smut. In this chapter, we have masturbation and slight degradation kink.

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Jiyong held you a little closer before he pulled the trigger. Your legs gave way and you fell to the ground. Jiyong quietly knelt next to you and lifted you up in his arms, checking with you to see if it was okay to do that. Your hands were shaking as they wrapped around his neck. You turned around, half scared to see Minhyuk’s body when Jiyong tilted your head back towards him.

“Don’t Y/N. I’ve made you see enough blood already. You shouldn’t have to see this as well.”

You didn’t argue with him, just trying to gather yourself. He paused before his door, and hesitantly, he asked,

“Y/N, I don’t know if you’re okay with staying in this room. If you aren’t, we can go to my room.”

You gave him a barely perceptible nod for him to go ahead and he took you to his room, gently laying you down on the bed. He was about to move back to give you your space, but he stopped when he heard your soft voice whispering,

“Jiyong?”

He sat back down next to you immediately, gently holding your hand.

“Yes, my love?”

He didn’t even realise the switch when he called you that. It felt so natural to him. You did though, and you couldn’t stop staring at him, trying to figure out what he was thinking. He looked at you with so much love, but he managed to shoot you. You just couldn’t understand him. He snapped you out of your thoughts when he carefully asked,

“Y/N, why is EXO’s Jongin looking for you?”

You raised your eyebrows.

“EXO? What’s that?”

Jiyong sighed and leaned back.

“So, you didn’t know Y/N.”

You snapped.

“What didn’t I know Jiyong?!”

He looked away and mumbled something you couldn’t hear.

“Jiyong, I can’t hear you.”

He slowly said,

“Jongin, your friend, is part of a mafia gang called EXO.”

You started laughing. Jiyong just stared at you uneasily, not quite knowing what to make of your laughter.

“Oh my god, why does this kind of stuff have to happen to me? How is it that Jongin is part of the mafia? The Jongin who can barely work a printer on his own?”

Jiyong just held your hand, knowing that you were actually upset. Calming yourself down, you asked,

“What role does Jongin have in EXO?”

Jiyong carefully watched you and said,

“He’s the guy you go to when you want to get rid of someone discreetly.”

You shuddered, unable to believe it. You didn’t want to ask, but curiosity got the better of you.

“Jiyong, who does that here?”

He raised his eyebrows at you, unable to hide his surprise at your curiosity. He answered with a cautious smile on his face.

“Seunghyun hyung does.”

And you know what? Somehow, you weren’t surprised. You had expected it.

“What does Hanbin do, Jiyong?”

“Hanbin’s in charge of covering up. Making up a believable cover story for our jobs.”

You nodded. The two of you sat there in silence for a while, the sound of Jiyong’s breathing and the scent of his cologne comforting you. Jiyong suddenly jumped up, remembering something. He called Daesung.

“Dae, take care of the body in Y/N’s room. Find out how he got in and up the security. We can’t have something like that happening again.”

He cut the call and called up Mino.

“Mino, find out why Jongin is looking for her. Find Hanbin. He was with Jongin. Make sure he’s okay.”

He looked at your worried face. You were terrified for Hanbin, but you were also scared for Jongin. You knew he lied to you, and you weren’t going to forgive him for that anytime soon, but you still didn’t want him dead. You had seen how ruthless they were.

“Don’t harm or capture Jongin, even if you can. We don’t want to start a war with EXO.”

Mino winced and let out a sigh.

“Hyung, I don’t think that’s going to be possible. Hanbin is fine, and he’s on his way back, but EXO has called for a meeting. All nine of them are going to be there. We don’t have much of a choice this time, Jiyong hyung. They’re saying we’re trying to start a gang war by abducting Jongin’s girlfriend. They’re jumping at this opportunity, because ever since they lost some of the Hongdae area to us, they’ve been looking for an excuse to do this. We’ll all have to go. It’s going to be soon.”

Jiyong didn’t hear anything Mino said after

“Jongin’s girlfriend.”

Jiyong turned to look at you in shock, wondering whether it was true. You looked back at him, wondering what he was thinking about. He didn’t care about anything else. He just wanted to know whether you had lied to him. His voice sounding angry, he said,

“Y/N, are you dating someone?”

You don’t know why you didn’t just reply saying, “No.” Maybe it was because he was incredibly hot when he was angry, but you got distracted. Maybe it was because of the adrenaline after the attack. Maybe it was just because you liked him, but you wanted nothing more than to pepper that gorgeous jawline with kisses. You then got distracted by his tattoo, yet again. You couldn’t stop imagining that tattoo on that beautiful skin, glistening with sweat as he lay down next to you after a night well spent. You shook your head to get those thoughts out of your mind. It didn’t work particularly well. All it did was make Jiyong look even angrier. Without meaning to, he moved closer and lowered his voice.

“Y/N, were you lying to me? Are you with Jongin?”

Again, because of his proximity to you, you zoned out. Without meaning to, you shivered a little and you had goose bumps running up your hands. It was only when Jiyong moved back, thinking he was scaring you, that you realised he had asked you a question. You turned and looked at him, slightly flushed.

“I’m sorry Jiyong, I zoned out. What did you say?”

Jiyong looked a little disappointed. He thought you zoned out thinking about Jongin. He sighed, and said,

“Although I feel like I already know the answer, I’m just going to ask you one last time. Y/N, are you dating Jongin?”

You moved a little closer to him, feeling bad that in the process of fantasising about him, you had hurt him.

“Jiyong, I promise I am not dating Jongin, and neither do I have any interest in doing so.”

He froze, a slow smirk coming across his face.

“Say that again Y/N.”

You said it, looking a little confused. Why was he smirking?

“I’m not dating anyone.”

The smirk only deepened.

“No Y/N. The first part of the sentence. Say that again.”

You stared at him, confused, until it finally dawned on you. You had said that bit about fantasising about him out loud. You turned red. You blushed, trying to look for an escape from the incredibly embarrassing situation you were in. He leaned in really close, smiling and said,

“As much as I would love to do all that and more, right now, I have to go attend a meeting, and before I leave, we need to discuss a few things.”

You couldn’t hide the disappointed look on your face as he moved away. He reached for your hand and kissed it.

“I promise I’ll make it up to you later.”

But then his face turned serious.

“Y/N, I need you to be one hundred percent honest with me, because for the first time in my life, I’m going to be honest with someone.”

You nodded.

“Y/N, why is EXO saying you’re Jongin’s girlfriend?”

You shook your head.

“I honestly don’t know. I mean, yeah, he used to flirt with me, but that was just friendly flirting. He was always like that. It was never serious.”

“So, you never said yes to him, right?”

You nodded in agreement.

“Do you like him?”

You just turned to him incredulously.

“Jiyong, I literally just said I was fantasising about you. What more confirmation do you need?”

He hid a smile.

“Okay then Y/N. Would you prefer for us to hand you over to EXO? Because that’s what they’re asking for.”

You shook your head.

“No Jiyong. I wouldn’t.”

He took a deep breath.

“Y/N, do you want to be with me? I should warn you though. Once you agree to be with me and become my girlfriend, your life isn’t going to go back to normal.”

He winced.

“Actually, it’s never really going to go back to normal, because my enemies have figured out what you mean to me, so because of me, you’re constantly at risk. I’m sorry.”

You blinked, trying to take in all that information.

“I’m sorry, and even if you choose not to be with me, I’ll make sure someone will always be protecting you, because you got into this because of me. You’re not a captive here any more. I’ll give you back your phone and wallet once Hanbin gets back. You can leave now if you want. Just please don’t tell anyone anything about us.”

“Jiyong, I want to be with you. I want to stay here with you.”

And again, you saw that smile of his you loved the most. The innocent, gummy smile. Not the sinful smirk or the icy glare. Just a smile radiating happiness.

“Okay then my love.”

He suddenly shifted to a glare.

“Now, I’m going to go make sure EXO knows not to mess with you.”

As he was leaving, you got really mad at Jongin. He never told you he was part of the mafia and then he goes around telling people you’re his girlfriend. You felt a little bad about how worried he would have been, but anger and irritation won over in the end. You started muttering.

“Hmph. Bloody self-entitled pricks. Who are they to decide for me where I want to go? I’m fully capable of deciding for myself.”

Jiyong laughed as he headed over to his closet, pulling out a loose, slightly translucent white shirt. He casually began telling you to use his room while the guys took care of Minhyuk and your security, but you couldn’t focus on anything other than the fact that he was changing in front of you. You could only focus on those beautiful arms and that toned back, wonderfully tan. You had to stop yourself from drooling. He was just humming to himself as he took out some piercings to put on from the drawer. He didn’t wear all his piercings all the time, but oh good lord, when he did, he practically looked like the embodiment of sin. He slowly strapped a few daggers to those beautifully toned thighs and because of that, you couldn’t get those thighs and the thought of riding them out of your head. Finally, he slipped on a jacket and was about to leave, coming close and kissing your forehead first.

“Sweetheart, you stay here okay. No one other than me can enter these rooms from the outside. You’ll be safe here.”

And as he left, you got a whiff of his cologne, driving you insane. After he left, you shook those dirty thoughts out of your head. You really needed to get laid. You knew if you stayed awake, you wouldn’t be able to stay sane from those thoughts, so you just buried yourself into the bed, desperate for sleep.

Your eyes watered as you gagged, feeling him grab your head and buck his hips into your mouth more forcefully, making the definite transition from getting a blowjob to fucking your face. You loved it. You were getting wetter and wetter and you desperately needed some relief. Your hands travelled down your body, finding their way to your clit and rubbing frantically for some relief. You felt your hands being grabbed harshly as Jiyong pulled them away, holding them above your head with one of his hands while the other one harshly pinched your nipples. He bent down and harshly whispered in your ear,

“My little slut couldn’t stop touching herself huh. Don’t you think you need a punishment?”

You had just moaned out a

“Yes”,

when you woke up, finding yourself alone on the bed in Jiyong’s room, flushed, breathless and incredibly wet. You were desperate. You needed relief. You couldn’t remember the last time you got laid. And the thirst trap that is Kwon Jiyong wasn’t helping. Just thinking back to his toned body made your nipples hard. You were so bloody desperate that you decided to be reckless. You took one quick look around and slipped off the pants and panties you were wearing and leaned back against the pillows. You closed your eyes, trying to relive that dream. You let your hand gently run across your thighs and your breasts, enjoying the stream of goose bumps that followed. You slowly let yourself go, tricking yourself into believing they were Jiyong’s. He would never not tease you, so you slowly starting twirling your hands around your nipples, waiting until they were almost painfully hard before actually touching them. You let out a moan from how good that felt. Slowly, you let your hands travel down, letting it reach for your clit. You didn’t allow yourself to put pressure on it, no matter how much you wanted to. You moved in teasing little circles around it, slowly feeling yourself get wetter and wetter. You moved on to slowly sliding your fingers up and down, relishing the increased pressure. Slowly, you started putted more pressure and you moved on to your clit, you slow rubbing turning more frantic by the second. Your other hand slowly moved up to pinch your nipples, harder and harder, still not hard enough for you. When you were at a frantic pace, and it was really hitting the right spot, you arched your back, threw your head back and moaned,

“Jiyong”.

You nearly died from the shock when you heard him say,

“Yes?”

You opened your eyes, shivering from anticipation of what you knew was going to come when you saw him standing there, a foot away from the bed, eyes dark with lust, lips curled in a smirk. He slowly uncuffed his shirt and rolled his sleeves up, his eyes never leaving you. He walked over to you, unbuttoning a bit of his shirt as he did. Eyes incredibly dark, he removed his belt and finally took your hands and said, “Looks like someone needs to be punished.”

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deckof-dragons · 4 years ago

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Poly

I wrote this by request for my friend Sora’s birthday, but I have a confession to make, I don’t actually know their tumblr name (when I changed blogs a while ago, I think theirs in one of the ones I missed when I was refollowing people over here, whoops) and at this point I’m too afraid to ask for it. So I can’t tag them, I tried. But I sent them the Ao3 link for it so it’s fine.

“Did you hear Slim and Edge are dating?” was the first thing Blueberry said when he spotted Stretch descending the stairs.

Having literally just woken up, it took Stretch a few seconds to process the words. “Uh… what?” He’d been hanging out with both of them just last night and he’d had no idea. He wasn’t even sure he believed it.

Always happy to spread juicy gossip, Blueberry grinned wide. “Razz told me this morning. Apparently, he caught them almost kissing last night. They got mad and told him not to tell anyone but he told me because why wouldn’t he? And I figured you knew since you hang out with them all the time but I guess not. It’s supposed to be a secret so don’t tell anyone.” With both Blueberry and Razz knowing, the entire neighbourhood would know within a week or less.

But… Stretch should’ve been the first to know, right? The three of them hung out together several times a week at least. Why hadn’t they told him? And well… he’d been thinking about asking one of them out for a long while now but he was too shy too and wasn’t sure which he wanted more because he liked them both so much and he hadn’t wanted to make things awkward. … It seems he was too late now though; it was his own fault for not making any moves.

“Uh… thanks for telling me I guess,” he said, forcing a nonchalant attitude before Blueberry could start to think his hesitation was anything more than his usual morning sleepiness. “Though you probably shouldn’t have since it’s not your thing to tell.” Not that that’s ever stopped him or would stop him from telling others.

He at least had the grace to look chagrinned. “I thought you of all people would’ve already known though and I wanted to know more about it.”

“Eh, I’m sure they’ll forgive you.” Heck, maybe the reason Stretch hadn’t known was because it had become a thing after he’d split off from them last night, both their houses’ were further down the street from his after all. So maybe no slight was intended. Not that that did much for his other disappointment but… the two of them were probably happier together than either would’ve been with him anyway.

The next time the three of them hung out was that very night, at the bowling alley again. It had become their favored hangout shortly after they’d all settled on the Surface, sometimes they go the others to join them for a few games but most of the time it was just the three of them. Afterwards they had dinner, it was Edge’s turn to pick where they went and thus it was one of the nicer options available in town.

But not once throughout the whole evening did either of them say anything about their supposed dating or kiss. Stretch would’ve dismissed Blueberry’s words that morning as untrue if it wasn’t for the looks the two of them frequently exchanged, occasionally accompanied by some incidental contact with their hands or arms. Something was definitely going on between them and they weren’t telling Stretch. … It hurt a lot. He hid it though because… he just did. If they knew they might just chose to abandon him as a friend entirely.

The next day there was no invitation to hang out anywhere. He didn’t propose to go out anywhere either, partially because he feared a denial. What if they were on a date together? Probably were, right? And they just didn’t want him to know because… who knows why? Maybe they just didn’t like him anymore.

The following day there was an invitation to go bowling again for a few more games and follow it up with dinner at Edge’s place. Stretch declined though, claiming to not be feeling well. He didn’t want to impose his presence on them if it wasn’t wanted. He’d be happier together without him there as a third wheel.

He declined the next invitation as well. What he couldn’t ignore though was a text from Edge that came the following day saying ‘We need to talk.’ There was only one thing they could possibly talk about, right?

After some debate, they ended up meeting in Slim’s house because Razz was off doing something with his Alphys for the weekend. Slim even tried to cook something but by the time Edge and Stretch arrived it was burnt to an unrecognizable crisp and the kitchen was filled with too much smoke for anyone to want to spend much time in it. Thus, they ordered delivery instead.

“I’m sure you’ve heard the rumors by now,” Edge said, clearly addressing Stretch, as the three of them settled in the living room to wait for the food to arrive.

“Uh… yeah, you could say that.” It was hard not to, everyone was talking about Edge and Slim dating and many were asking Stretch about it since he was their friend. The fact that many asked if he was jealous of one or both of them made it harder to hide from his own upset over it. “It’s fine though, you guys are…”

“They’re not true,” Slim interrupted.

“Mostly not true anyway,” Edge corrected. “We have been talking and discussing stuff but nothing is official.”

Oh! That wasn’t so bad then; they hadn’t been keeping things from Stretch, they just hadn’t fully worked it out yet. “But you’re making it official now?” Why else would they bring it up? And that meant Stretch was going to be kicked out of the hangouts, right?

Edge and Slim exchanged a silent look, seemingly having an unspoken argument about who was going to speak next. Edge either lost or gave in. “That depends on some things, mainly you.” He even pointed at Stretch. “From what we’ve gathered, we’re pretty sure poly relationships aren’t common where you’re from so this concept might be strange to you and you might not want any part in it at all.”

“Which is fine,” Slim cut in again. “It ain’t for everyone.”

“True,” Edge said. “Feel free to decline if you’re not interested for whatever reason but we would like to officially start dating each other and you.”

Stretch opened his mouth to respond but nothing came out. He’d heard of poly relationships before, they were apparently pretty common in the Fell ‘verses, he hadn’t thought much of them beyond being another cultural difference though. Despite his feelings for both Edge and Slim, he’d certainly never considered entering into a poly relationship with them. But… it was actually kind of perfect. He liked them both and hadn’t been able to decide between them and he’d felt left out when he’d thought they’d been dating each other so…

“Yes!” he said probably a bit too loudly, he was excited though. He’d gone into this conversation thinking he was going to be abandoned by his best friends as a third wheel but instead he was getting not one but two romantic partners. “I’d love that.”

“Wonderful,” Edge said with a pleased expression. “I’m glad that’s settled at last. We would’ve settled it sooner but you decline our invitations to hang out.”

“Oh, whoops, sorry about that.” That’s what Stretch got for jumping to conclusions. He was very glad to be proven wrong here though. He’d never been in a poly relationship before so he wasn’t quite sure how they worked but he was eager to find out.

#My writing #undertale #papcest #Edge/Slim/Stretch #Poly Relationship

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nxrthmizu · 5 years ago

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-Lordbug, Robin and Kitty Noir- Chapter Three: In Which Damian Falls Off A Building

/Part One//Part Two//Part Three//Part Four//Part Five//Part Six//Part Seven//Part Eight//Part Nine//Part Ten//Part Eleven/

Description: FLUFF MORE FLUFF FLUFF ALL THE WAY LIKE IT’S CHRISTMAS (OOh maybe I’ll do a special Christmas chapter on Christmas week of DAMINETTE CHRISTMAS FLUFF YEA SOMEONE NEEDS TO DO THAT) also Damian falls off a building.

Warnings: A little curses I guess, same as before

---

Robin didn’t know where he was going but the final destination was totally not intended to be Dupain-Cheng’s balcony. He got... Lost. Admitting he was lost was better than to admit that he’d somehow strayed onto a girl’s balcony.

“R- Um, who are you?” He nearly screeched, and the Robin does not screech. But when he turned around, he came face to face with the same black-clad girl who he’d fought with (As Lordbug) when the first akuma came around.

“I’m Robin.” He had to remind himself not to tell her off for remembering his name. Afterall, it was her first time meeting him as Robin.

“Oh. Hi, Robin, I’m Kitty Noir.” She smiled, and Damian couldn’t help but feel that the words were a little familiar. “So, you’re a superhero?”

“Yeah.” Damian scoffed. Wasn’t it obvious?

“Then...” She blushed, as if embarassed. “Could you teach me the ropes? I was only recently, um, pushed into this... Superhero business. Could you... Teach me?”

Apparently, little angel wasn’t the only person Damian couldn’t say no to.

---

“Be careful.” He warned as she prepared to leap off a building. Probably not what you encourage people to do, but hey. That was Damian. And he was teaching his... Superhero... Partner? Friend? Neighbor? how to successfully tap into her instincts. And if it wasn’t successful... Well, he hadn’t thought that far. Yet. He would think of it when the time came. If the time came.

She nodded, taking a deep breath. Damian felt his chest constrict, as if he was worried. Scoffing to himself, he shook his head to clear out his mind. Why was he worried, anyway? She was the one who wanted to try it. He wasn’t responsible.

“Here I go.” She breathed, extending her baton before she leaped off. Damian sucked in a breath. Was she alright-

“Woo!” She swung right back up, triumphant. Landing a little clumsily on the next building, she sent Damian a bright grin. “I did it! Did you see?”

Rolling his eyes and letting go of a breath he was for some reason holding, he nodded. “Yeah, I saw it. It wasn’t bad for a beginner like you.” He had intended the remark to be cutting, but the girl only beamed at him.

“Thanks so much, Robin.”

And for some reason, Tikki was giggling again. It was honestly annoying to have a tiny spotted fairy constantly giggling at your ear. What was she giggling about this time?

---

“That was great!” He was breathless. This girl that probably just started superhero work- Was amazing. She had managed to achieve everything he’d shown her so far.

Kitty Noir blushed, feeling her cheeks flush on the autumn air. “Thanks to you, birdy.”

He frowned at the nickname, but if he liked it, he didn’t show it. As they were heading back (To no apparent destination) Kitty Noir- Marinette- Couldn’t help but stare, because damn. That was one fine ass.

Robin stopped abrubtly, but not before he was knocked off balance by the girl who failed to stop behind him. This ended up with him on the rooftop, pinned down.

It was really awkward, and he could hear Tikki giggling again.

“Um, I- I’m so sorry! I didn’t see you stop, I um, sorry so I- No wait! I’m sorry so- I’m so- So I’m- I’m sORRY!” She didn’t see him stop- She was really too busy staring at his ass. It was one fine ass.

“Uh. It’s fine. Can you get up, please?” His voice was constricted and awkward and he couldn’t wait to get home. She nodded clumsily, getting off him- Before slipping.

“Kitty!” He called out, watching her squeal as she desperately tried to find something to cling onto before nearing the edge of the rooftop, onto a five-floor-drop. His blood ran cold.

Shooting off the grappling hook, he jumped, catching her by her waist right before she fell over the edge. “I’ve got you.” He told her, his breath panting. He looked around, trying to find a way so that they could land properly, but his left hand was already starting to ache by supporting her, and his right was holding onto his grappling hook. There was no way he’d be able to get a safe landing for the both of them.

He unlatched the grappling hook, holding her to his chest as they plummeted towards the ground. Flipping her upwards so he’d absorb the impact, he groaned, making contact to the ground. Yep, at least two broken ribs and a dislocated arm. At least he was still alive. That was a bright side.

---

“I uh... Fell off the... Stairs?” Explaining himself to little angel was a little difficult. Marinette looked at him with extreme worry. Well, he wasn’t that good of a sight. Apparently, he’d bruised half of his face when he fell, too.

“R-Right. I know you’re lying, you know.” She crossed her arms. Of course she knew what really happened to Robin. She was the one that caused him such injuries. After they got up, he’d checked that she was fine- (Even when he was the one that took the fall!) and said that he’d go find his... Friend, Marinette. Kitty Noir had panicked, of course, and made up a crappy excuse to rush home. Robin, who was probably too injured to protest, watched her go before he shot off his grappling hook, getting to little angel’s place. “Sit down, I’ll get you some hot chocolate and some bandages.”

Robin nodded thankfully. He wasn’t sure how Fu would’ve dealt with him getting home with broken ribs and a dislocated shoulder- And he was quite sure he didn’t want to find out, as he suspected that the man was still angry at him.

“Damian!” Tikki immediately fussed over him the moment Marinette was out of hearing. “Oh god, you’re so injured!” She squealed. Robin hissed at her.

“Don’t use my name. Not here.” He told her sternly, but it seemed as if the Kwami had gotten completely used to him using harsh tones on her, and only proceeded to worry over him.

“Let me help.” Tikki murmured, using her tiny flap-like hands to create a small glowing ball, pressing it into Damian’s chest. Immediately, he felt his ribs piece themselves back together, and his back’s soreness- Well, it got slightly better.

When they heard Marinette coming up the stairs, though, Tikki quickly hid back inside his hood.

“I got you some chocolate.” She smiled, handing him the cup. “It’s hot though, so be careful.” She begin to set down some of the other things she had brought- Bandages, disinfectant- The usual things that Alfred would have once the Bats returned from a hectic day of patrol. She dabbed gently at his wounds as he sipped on the hot chocolate, feeling the warm liquid dribble down his throat, providing more aid to soothing his extremely sore back that he’d fell on. Honestly, he could’ve died if he snapped his neck. However, probably thanks to Tikki’s luck- He didn’t. He knew it was the right choice to let the Kwami tag onto his patrol nights.

“You’re really battered up. It’s a miracle you even survived.” Marinette murmured under her breath. “Stupid selfless idiot.”

“Stupid selfless what?” Robin raised an eyebrow. The girl only blushed more, not saying anything else. “Stupid selfless what?” He repeated.

Marinette huffed at him. “Kitty Noir dropped over just now. She told me what happened and told me to prepare my first aid kit.” She could hear Plagg’s approval at the flawless spontaneous lie she’d come up with on the spot.

Robin sighed. That explained it. There were already some bandages and bottles of medicine on the balcony when he dropped by. That explained why she was so ready for him. And also why she didn’t believe his ‘I fell off the stairs’ theory.

“You stupid selfless idiot.” Marinette repeated, agitating herself as she said the same phrase again, dabbing on his wounds a little harder as he winced. As soon as she noticed this movement, she apologized hastily. “Sorry.” She sighed. “I’m just worried about you.”

“I’m fine, angel.” Robin smiled, carressing her face gently. “I’m fine.”

“A-Angel?” She stuttered, blushing wildly. “W-What’s with the nickname?”

Robin shrugged. “You’re just an angel. You’re not as insufferable as everyone else, you’re kind, generous, and you mind space. That makes you already better than fifty percent of the population. And it makes you my personal angel.”

Maybe... That glint was already in him.

(Tag List: @yin-390 @mysteriouslyswimmingfan-blo-blog @constancetruggle @the-navistar-carol @never-neverland @rayray384 @mystery-5-5 @black-streak @bluerosette23 )

There we go! Another chapter! This one is slightly shorter because of the time constraint :( sowy (AUTHOR CAN’T SPELL SORRY RIGHT)

I’m really sorry if I miss your name in the tag list because my laptop’s tumblr is real messy and laggy so I’m trying to get a hang of everything.

On the other hand I got 12 followers in one day

It’s a miracle

Thank you guys so much I can’t express how much I love you all right now

So right now Marinette’s kind of how Marinette normally is for Adrien but for Robin, Damian’s a bro-friend sort of thing, and to Damian/Lordbug/Robin Marinette is a little angel and a gift to the world. Later we’re going to have Kitty Noir head-over-heels for Robin the way Chat is head-over-heels for ladybug. No more spoilers though!

Again, before this author’s note gets too long, message me if any mistakes were spotten (See what I did there?) because I didn’t proof-read the chapter really well.

#damianwayne #marinettedupaincheng #miraculousladybug #daminette #lordbug #robin #kittynoir #lordbugrobinandkittynoir #damian x marinette #marinette x damian #robin gets hurt :(#but marinette is there to kiss his wounds better though

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vertanimeni · 4 years ago

Text

the ice will start to break, the day will fade away (9/18)

Summary:

“Have you heard? The Elephant of Caocin has committed high treason!”

From Trikru’s most reputable war hero to Trikru’s most wanted traitor, Kova found themselves stripped of their titles and trapped between a clan that wants them dead and a camp of invaders - the same ones who kidnapped and tortured their brother.

But Kova was willing to do anything to stay alive and keep their family together.

Pairing: Bellamy Blake/Grounder OC

Word Count: 5,040

TW: Canon typical violence, virus outbreak/illness, Wells fingers and phantom pain, "Medical Procedure" if you could call it that + Some nasty stuff*, PTSD + Traumatic Memories*

*Note, Nasty part starts with "The morning came and went" and ends with "The ramp of the dropship". Includes vomit and blood. **Note, Traumatic memories is the italicized part starting with "A mountain road" to "bows and arrows in hand" if you want to skip that.

I’ll be leaving a summary at the bottom just in case anyone wants to skip.

A/N: Hello friends!! This chapter... is a lot. Sorry it took so long, finals week was pretty rough and I didn’t have time to edit it until recently. I’m yeeting Kova back at y’all. If you’re reading through my blog, the read more does not show up due to Tumblr’s new formatting, so please click on the post itself. As of right now, I will be updating every Friday at 4pm EST. Enjoy, and please read the trigger warnings! It’s a heavy chapter.

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ix. impotent (or not).

When the curtained entrance of the dropship fluttered, a wave of much needed fresh air entered and spread throughout the three levels. Unfortunately, this also meant the delinquents camping near the dropship would get hit with a wave of pained groans and the murky scent of old blood. Under Clarke’s orders, those delinquents had to move their tents away, and no one was allowed to enter the dropship, with very few exceptions.

Wells was one of these few exceptions, and he wished he wasn’t, as much as he hated the thought.

He could barely hear himself think, let alone have some (desperately needed) alone time. With every delinquent he attended to, two more would try to kick the bucket, and some of them had even refused his help. It was needless to say why, given his status within the group, but that didn’t stop the shock and irritation gathering at the pit of his stomach.

And it was barely dawn — much too early for this bullshit. At some point, he snapped when a group of delinquents at Death’s door rejected his help, complaining of the pain and mocking him in the same breath. “Listen,” Wells had grit out, hands clenching into fists, “either you let me take care of you all, or I’ll let Kova and Murphy deal with it.”

The way the group looked like they had bit into a particularly sour lemon gave Wells a satisfaction he hadn’t known was possible.

Oh yes, Kova (and surprisingly Murphy) had offered their services to help Clarke with the sick. Last time Wells saw Kova, they had changed into old, worn out clothes and their long dreads had been pulled back in a low bun, all done as if they had had experience with handling the sick. Most delinquents had only allowed Kova’s help when they were told the only other option would be Murphy.

Needless to say, the group fell quiet after that.

Wells was already stressed out to the max, even with three people working by his side. Wells and Murphy took care of those who had started improving while Kova and Clarke would take care of the sick at at death’s door.

Every once in a while someone would switch over when somebody needed a break, but Clarke wouldn’t allow Murphy and Kova to work together, not after their fifth argument before the sun could even peak over the horizon. He had no idea how Clarke had originally planned on helping the infected all by herself, and frankly, he didn’t think he would be able to handle her answer.

“Wells!”

Speaking of. “Yeah?”

“Could you leave a bowl of water by Eva? Don’t worry about finding a cloth, Kova’s on that.”

“Yup!”

He grabbed an unused bowl and reached into the water bucket, only to find it empty. He picked it up and made his way to the front of the dropship. Wells couldn’t help but roll his eyes. Something told him it wasn’t Kova - they had a habit of bringing in a new bucket once the old bucket was only 1/4th full. ‘I already reminded Murphy to replace it before.’

At the front of the dropship, the water crew were kind enough to leave them a row of filled buckets, replaced every half hour. Thoughts preoccupied, he picked up a heavy bucket with his injured hand, curling non-existent digits around the handle. Pain shot up his nerves and the bucket tumbled out of his grip. He recoiled, waiting for the clatter of metal against metal—

“Careful.”

He didn’t realized he had clenched his eyes tight until he heard the familiar voice. He forced his eyes open, only to see the top of a boot holding up the handle of the bucket. Kova stood before him, balancing on one foot, a bundle of clean(ish) rags in their hands. Slowly, they brought up one of their legs and took the bucket with their free hand.

“You strained your fingers.” They pointed out with a jut of their head.

Still in a state of shock from the sudden pain, he looked down at the bandages, now blotted with blood at the stump, and a meek “Oh” left his lips.

Before he could say anything else, Kova put aside the bucket and the bundle of cloths and took his head in theirs. The pain had dulled down to a throbbing ache, but still, he flinched, urging his body to not move away as much as he desperately wanted to, but he was surprised to find that their fingers were gentle despite calloused, nimble, and most importantly, confident. “You seem like you know what you’re doing.” He commented.

“Not my first time handling amputations.” A far-off look glazed over their eyes, one that Wells had seen a few times already when Kova thought of home (or, at least, that’s what he thought). “It feels like your fingers are still there, right? You try to curl them, but it only hurts?”

“How’d you know?”

“I’ve seen patients who lost appendages at the joint during my internship years.” The corners of Kova’s lips upturned, not enough for a smile, not a grimace either. “When they try to curl with a prosthetic, the nerves flare up in the only way they can — through pain.”

Now, that was a lot to unpack. Wells could only manage to say, “Sorry, you—? Patients?”

“Mn.” They dropped his hands. “I used to work in prosthetic handling before all this. Find Clarke and ask her to check if the stitching popped.”

“Sure, after I do this real quick.” Wells reached for the bucket—

The placed their arm across the bucket. “I got it. You deal with that first.”

For the first time in a while, anger sparked in his stomach. “I’m not fragile—”

“I never said you were. Unless you have a death wish, you shouldn’t be helping a bunch of sick people with an open wound.”

Ah. That… That’s fair. Wells glanced between Kova and the bucket. They weren’t planning on relenting any time soon. “Yeah. Alright. I’ll find Clarke real quick, but…” He hesitated, “do you mind if I… I just have a few questions—”

“Find me afterwards.” They nodded. “I can try my best to answer.”

He had never looked for Clarke faster.

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It was only when the sick would cough up less blood, the dropship would grow quieter and quieter, and the crease between Clarke’s eyebrows would start to relax, did Wells get a chance to ask Kova quesions. Although truthfully, when he plopped down next to them around the corner of the Ark during their break, drinking boiled water, all he could think about was how Clarke handled his wounds with such care, the gentleness of her fingers as she unwrapped his bandages, that one stubborn baby hair curling just above her eyebrow, the worry lining around her eyes—

“—Wells.”

He startled out of his thoughts. Blood rushed to his cheeks when he realized Kova had been trying to catch his attention for the better part of the past few minutes. “Ah— Yeah, sorry. I, uh,” He motioned to his hand, hopefully directing attention from his burning cheeks. Kova’s look told him otherwise, but thankfully they obliged and looked away. “I’ve come to terms with it. But. Well. How much do you know about our home in space, the Ark?”

“Octavia explained somewhat at the bridge.”

“To put it simply, the rules there were very strict."

"Death for any crime, even for having a second child.”

Ah. Truthfully, after the initial reveal of the girl under the floor, Wells hadn’t put in a lot of thought about the second child. He was quite young when it happened, and by the time he grew up, he had other things to worry about, like the state of the Ark, his father’s expectations, Clarke, and her family, especially after her father died and she was sent to the Sky Box. To him, the Blakes were just another family torn apart for breaking the rules, just like the Griffins.

But down here, he had to face the consequences of such thinking. Down here, he became eye to eye with the remnants of said broken families. At first, it was difficult to unlearn what his father had taught him, to unlearn that exceptions were not allowed. There was a difference between a 16 year old boy who murdered for fun and an 8 year old girl who stole extra food after her parents had been floated. And now, to explain and try to justify the rules of the Ark, he wondered how he couldn’t see that before.

Regardless, there he was, nursing his boiled water, explaining how his father, the Chancellor, enforced the rules, and how most people wanted revenge by taking vengeance out on him. Not once did Kova give him a pitying or judgmental look (’or, maybe they hid it well,’ his mind unhelpfully supplied.)

“Then, there was this little girl named Charlotte, who watched her parents get floated. She uh…” His hand went up to where the scar on his neck was, laid out for all to see, and his voice wavered. “She tried to kill me. She only nicked me. I tried to stop her, but she swung the knife around and cut my fingers off. I passed out, and she left me there because she thought she killed me.

“I was knocked out for a day and a half from blood loss, shock, and an infection, but they couldn't tell my father I was still alive because they had already lost contact with the Ark. The problem is before all of this happened, Murphy threatened me for the same reason — my father — and Charlotte had used Murphy’s knife. When the camp found the knife, they accused him and tried to punish him in the same way.”

“By trying to kill him?”

He nodded again. “They tried to hang Murphy, but I guess the guilt got to her — she confessed during the hanging. He practically hunted her down and by the end of the day, she killed herself by jumping off a cliff. The group banished Murphy afterwards.”

“And now he’s back.”

“And now he’s back.” He repeated with a heavy sigh. “With a flu.”

The two stared off into the distance, falling quiet. “The son shall not bear the sins of the father,” Kova quoted, turning to him, “but the son should acknowledge his father’s mistakes. This,” they gestured behind them, to the dropship, “is not your fault. You and your father just so happened to be connected to it.”

“Is it not the same?”

“No, They’re different.” But, if he had asked them three years ago, they would have said the opposite. This was no longer a few years ago.

The sound of the camp rising and getting to work filled the silence that fell between them, until Kova said, “The pain you feel in your fingers — it’s called phantom pain.”

The fact that there was a name for his condition shouldn’t have made the pain lessen, shouldn’t have made Wells relax a little easily, but it did. A name. It wasn’t just him. “Oh.” He managed to murmur, cradling his hand with the other, gently pressing it against his chest. “Oh.”

Back into silence. He was grateful Kova let him settle with the new information for a moment, but he couldn’t help but ask, “Are you a doctor?”

They couldn’t help but snort. “Not a doctor. Just a prosthetist. I help shape and attach prosthetics to the amputated part. If you want, I can try and find some spare finger prosthetics and fit them for you myself—”

“Why?”

Kova paused. “Why what?”

“I… I don’t mean to sound rude, but why? Why would you do that?”

“…hmm.” How could they possibly explain that their once hateful view of the invaders— no, sky people — changed? That he and the others remind him of the children and teens at their village? Instead, they answered with, “Octavia told me that, besides her, you were the first one who stood up for my brother when Bellamy and Clarke tortured him. I will forever be grateful for that. And…”

“…and?”

“…You remind me of someone.” They left it at that, patting his shoulder and standing up. “C’mon, let’s go back and help your friends.”

Wells stared at them, and for a moment Kova worried he would press for more answered, but in the end all he did was nod, a smile on his face.

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The morning came and went. By the time Wells could take a break, four delinquents had died and Murphy and Kova only got into two arguments. Technically, it wasn’t even a break. He sat outside the dropship on the ramp, eating his rations while updating the other delinquents how the sick were doing. So far, everything had calmed down—

“Make way! We got an infected kid here!”

Wells stood too quickly and his knees cracked. He recognized that voice.

Shocked gasps came from the group of delinquents. They parted, allowing Raven and Fox to pass through, carrying a feverish looking child between them. “Wells! Emmie’s sick, we need help!” Raven called out.

Wells wouldn’t have hesitate to carry Emmie himself if it weren’t for his newly bandages hand. With the warnings from both Clarke and Kova in the back of his mind, he didn’t want to risk hurting Emmie or opening his wounds again, so as soon as he heard Raven, he stuck his head through the curtain and called for Kova.

Fox already had skin as pale as river rocks from the nearby stream and was just as anxious as the disturbed tadpoles by its shore, but she blanched further and her hands trembled at the call of the grounder’s name. Said grounder emerged from the curtains, eyebrows creased in worry, but Fox gripped Emmie’s legs ever so slightly. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Raven whirl her head sharply to give her the most angriest look Fox had ever seen on her, as if Raven knew exactly what Fox had been thinking. She couldn’t help but flinch as Raven opened her mouth—

“You can trust them.” A voice interrupted from the side. Fox turned to the crowd around them. She saw Finn jut his head towards the grounder. “Kova has been helping Clarke and the others all night and morning. They know what they’re doing.”

Seemingly composed, Kova wordlessly dipped their head in gratitude, but Fox noticed the uncertain tremble in their hands. Finn acknowledged it with his own nod.

Wells placed a comforting hand on her arm (when did he get so close?) and Fox looked down at the young girl she had been taking care of since they landed. Her breaths came short and rapid, her forehead beading with sweat and creased with a pained frown.

Without realizing, Fox nodded. Her arms, shaking with Emmie’s weight, relaxed as she and Raven passed the girl to Kova’s arms. With one arm across her back and the other holding up her legs, Kova hoisted Emmie on their hip and sped back to the dropship, calling out “Wells, let’s go!” over their shoulder.

But with the sudden change in position, a wave of nausea and dizziness hit Emmie quite suddenly. Her body tensed and saliva built up in her mouth and throat—

Years of training couldn’t stop the falter in their step, the disgusted shiver running up their spine, nor the goosebumps scattering across their arms as Emmie promptly vomited streaks of bile and blood over Kova’s shoulder, some of it catching on their clothes.

Well, not really their clothes, thankfully. But still.

Wells ran into the dropship first. The group of delinquents gasped and gagged, even as the two made their way inside.

At first, Kova thought the wet spot on their shoulder was vomit and had pointedly ignored it. Until Emmie started trembling, her forehead against their shoulder, and the wet spot grew bigger with every audible sniff.

“It’s alright, I got you.” They soothingly rubbed her back. “I’m here.”

“Kova, I’m sorry.”

“Here!” Wells suddenly called out.

“Coming! What are you apologizing for?”

“Vomiting on you.” Her voice cracked with another sob.

“No need. That’s not something you need to apologize for, but if it helps, I forgive you.”

Emmie nodded against their shoulder and Kova gently placed her on the makeshift bed. “I’m scared.” Another sniff, another whimper, and her arms wrapped around herself across her middle. “My stomach hurts.”

Their hands clenched into fists, but Kova kept them out of sight. There was nothing worse than seeing someone else in pain and not being able to do anything about it. Before they could speak, Wells stood and said, “It’s alright, we’ll take care of you. I’ll get water.”

Kova watched him leave until they felt a small hand on their knee.

“How come you’re not wearing the mask today?” Emmie’s question came with a shortening of breath and a weak smile that faltered with every wave of pain.

Ah. That’s why they felt lighter together. “I left it at my tent. Why, is it strange to see my face? Am I scary? Should I go get it?” They couldn’t help but tease, wiggling their eyebrows ever so slightly.

With every question, Emmie’s grin grew wider and wider and she shook her head vigorously. But one wrong move and her body tensed, her smile became a grimace, and her hands fisted her shirt across her middle, sweaty and clammy.

Wells came back and sent Kova a look, but they didn’t let even a hint of panic show on their face, and instead calmly asked, “Emmie, could you take a deep breath for me?”

She tried, but her chest hitched after a certain point. She winced and shook her head. “It hurts too much.”

“I see. You’re probably just sore from vomiting. Would you like for me to put your hair up?” They pushed back a curl making its way towards her eye. “So it’s out of your face?”

“Could you put it in a bun?”

“Mn. Wells, could you get a hair tie from Clarke?” Wells nodded, but before he could stand up, Kova caught his sleeve and whispered, “She has a hemothorax. Get Clarke. Bring a needle.”

Not wanting to alert Emmie, he nodded and left as fast as he could. Meanwhile, Kova kept her occupied and dipped a rag into the bowl Wells brought. “I see you’ve learnt my name. I will admit, I will miss being called ‘pretty stranger.’”

Emmie gave them a weak smile. “Fox told me after I bumped into you.”

“Ah. The girl outside? The one holding you?”

“The one with straight hair is Fox, but the one with the ponytail is Raven.”

Raven… Kova felt they had seen her before when it hit them — the meeting at the bridge. She was one of the gunners. “I see.” They dabbed at her forehead with the damp rag. “Are you close with both of them?”

“Yeah! Fox hangs out with the kids around here, mostly to keep us out of trouble, but before we landed I never really talked to her, but I knew she existed.”

If Kova hadn’t known much about the Ark, they would have been confused, but it made sense — of course Emmie would at the very least know of Fox’s existence, since the Ark was a closed and tight population, but that didn’t mean they really knew each other. “Right, right.”

“Same thing with Raven, but I think she’s, uh, an… en… engineer?”

“Raven’s a mechanic.” Came a voice from behind. “Don’t let her hear you call her an engineer, or she’ll get really upset.” Clarke dragged the word out playfully before she dropped to her knees besides Kova. Wells came up behind the two and passed Kova a hair tie before going to check on the other patients. “I heard you’re not feeling good, is that right?”

Emmie nodded, her head lolling loosely. “My chest was hurting, but now my back hurts too.”

“I see. Do you think you can roll on your side for us?”

She nodded once more, and with the help of Clarke and Kova, she rolled onto her left side. She coughed once, twice, then after the third time each cough came out deep and rattled. Kova sent Clarke a questioning look.

“It’s pretty common, I wouldn’t worry about it.” Clarke assured them—

—Blood splattered across the blanket, the floor, and specks landed on Kova’s knees. A scared whimper, more blood, and Emmie’s breathing came in quick and shallow—

“Lay her down on her back!” Clarke ordered.

Kova did so, and when Clarke took out the needle from behind her back, they blocked Emmie’s view of it.

“Kova—”

“I’m here.”

“It hurts!”

“I know, I know,” They gathered her hair into a bun, using the sweat beading at her forehead to keep strays away from her face. “It will get better, I’m here. Give it time.”

Kova only realized that no, it wouldn’t get better with time, when Clarke said, “It’s not working.”

They leaned back and tapped Well’s leg, silently grateful he was still close by, and motioned for him to keep Emmie occupied. As soon as her hazy attention switched from them to Wells, Kova moved next to Clarke. “What’s not working?”

She stuck the needle at a different angle and pulled the plunger back. “Her blood pressure is too low, I don’t think she’s eaten or drank anything today, and the blood isn’t coming out—!”

With a pop!, the plunger came off of the syringe.

What… What kind of luck?

Alerted by the sound, Wells looked back, only to turn back to Emmie with the most neutral face he could possibly manage. Clarke and Kova stared at the plunger, hanging uselessly from the former’s fingertips.

As quietly as possible, Kova gritted out, “Get another one.”

“That was the last one. Bellamy sent out a team to get more from the bunker, but I don’t know how long it’ll take.”

“Those are over 200 years old—” Kova cut themselves off with a deep breath, closing their eyes. When they opened up again, both Clarke and Wells were sweating with anxiety. “Alright. Fine.” They pulled out the syringe and twisted the barrel off, leaving just the needle and its hilt. They turned to Clarke. “Get me two buckets — one empty, one with water — and a cup.”

“What are you—”

They stuck the needle in, just slightly lower than where it had been last time. Emmie flinched, and Kova patted her arm with an apologetic smile. Then they leaned forward—

With a sharp intake of breath, Clarke stumbled onto their feet and ran off. Alerted by the clatter, Wells glanced back only to turn and give his full attention to Emmie with a conversation on food, discreetly scooting closer to block her from the view.

Kova’s ears perked up at the sound of one heavy and one light clank in front of them, and one softer clank closer to their face. They reached for the empty bucket and spat out blood before returning to the hilt of the needle.

They repeated this until halfway through the fourth suck, Kova suddenly flinched. But before Clarke could react, they pulled the bucket underneath and spat out the last of the blood in their mouth while blood flowed freely from the needle. Emmie’s breathing, albeit shaky, deepened, and her eyes fluttered closed. Clarke checked her vitals with two fingers on her wrist and nodded. “She’s alright.”

A cup filled with water entered their vision. Kova took it with a thanks and swished it in their mouth before spitting it into the bucket of blood. Wells wordlessly took the cup, filled it with water, and passed it back. The two repeated this for a while until the tang of stale metal lessened. After Kova spat out their last swish, they said, “The blood.”

“What?”

“It tastes old.” Kova paused and looked between the two. “We will have to check on the others for early signs of hemothoraces, too.”

“Ah. Right,” Clarke nodded weakly, “of course. Here.” She offered a napkin, but Kova shook their head and gently pushed her hand back.

“Save it for her and the others.” They wiped their mouth with the end of their sleeve, smearing blood across their cheek. “I will…” They looked down at their dirtied clothes. “Go to my tent. And wash up.” They paused. “Will you two—”

“Please go. Take your time.”

“We’ll watch her.”

“…mn. Thanks.”

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The ramp of the dropship creaked as Kova made their way down, but instead of heading to their tent, they turned and walked around the corner of the dropship. As soon as they were out of sight from the rest of the camp, they braced themselves against the wall with a forearm and dry heaved. They gasped for breath—

A mountain road. Hundreds of dead bodies at its feet. The ends of a long jacket fluttered against their calves, cut apart with a rough knife, leaving threads to hang loosely. Fabric covered the lower half of their face. The pungent tang of blood coating their tongue. Throat so sore they just want to stick their fingers down inside and scratch—

They stumbled up the steep road alongside their fellow warriors (ones they had sent on a death mission—) Dehydrated, exhausted, bleeding out. It was a wonder how they got so far up before they finally collapsed. They can't move. Any fight they might have had disperses when their body finally— finally —slumped against the cold ground. They close their eyes. They rest. And they wait.

“Duck!”

Their eyes snap open at the sounds of bodies dropping around them. Kova found themselves face to face with one of their warriors, a young one at that, staring at them with wide eyes, body seizing as if trying to reject, trying to fight the two arrows stuck in their neck, and far too suddenly to be natural, the warrior stilled, but not before coughing out a last burst of blood, specking across Kova’s face. They flinched.

A thunder of footsteps tremble the mountain against their ear. Kova looked down, still at dirt level, only to see Azgeda’s army sprinting up the road, bows and arrows in hand—

“—Kova? You okay? Did something happen?”

Someone’s hand lightly grasped their shoulder, and even though being touched was the last thing they wanted, the warmth seeping through their shoulder grounded them, pulled them back from where they were spiraling towards. Instead of leaning against the wall, they found themselves sitting against it. They let out a deep breath, trying to calm down. “Yeah. I’m alright.” They turned to the voice—

Ah. The girl from before. Raven. Kova couldn’t control their shocked look, and Raven’s eyebrows creased in concern. “I saw you run back here. What’s wrong?”

“I’m fine.” The last thing they wanted to talk about was on their mind—

“You don’t look it.”

They looked down at their trembling, clammy hands. She had a point. They let out a resigned sigh. “Children.”

“What?”

“You have children here.”

“…yeah. We have more on the Ark.”

“The people down here are prisoners. They committed crimes. How do children commit crimes?” Raven fell silent. Kova continued. “Not just that, but Trikru knows.”

“Your clan? What do they know?”

“That you have children here.” They looked around the dense forest around. Now that they thought about it, they hadn’t seen any scout activities, nor did they hear about any grounders running around from the sky people. Did they leave already? “Trikru knew. But they still sent Murphy here with this disease. That breaks the Coalition Conventions.”

Raven was still silent, as if she were waiting for Kova to get all their thoughts out.

“Disgusting.” They spat to the side, far away on the poor grass. “I never would have expected them to go this far. They claim they want vengeance for the lives lost by the invaders, but how can they take vengeance knowing there are innocent children? Non-combatants? None of you all know what you’re doing, you had no idea there were people living here.” They took a deep breath. “Your people aren’t right, but neither are mine.” They couldn’t help but let out a loud, bitter laugh. Raven eyed them, as if watching someone break their sanity. “And somehow, you all had the luck to land here during a time of political unrest and the instability of the Coalition.

They hadn’t meant to spiral into a rant, but they were tired. They just didn’t realize how much until they planned the bridge scenario with Lincoln that one fateful day, and now? Now, here they are.

They snapped their head up, Raven watching them with wide eyes and a parted mouth. “My apologies, I shouldn’t have—”

“No, no, you’re good. I just—” Raven let out a light laugh, shoulders slumping with relief, as if Kova’s rant took off a heavy burden. “I wasn’t expecting that. Nice to know there’s someone on our side.” She lightly bumped her shoulder against theirs.

“Like I said, you all aren’t in the right, either. But,” They sent her a small reassuring smile, dipping their head slightly, and said, “neither is Trikru. And I’m not the only one thinking that.”

“Mmh, I sure hope so. Is…” Raven paused, glancing to the dropship. “Is Emmie okay?”

“Yeah. She had an issue with her lungs. But she was getting better, last time I saw her.”

“Good, good. Well, you definitely have my full support now.” She sent them a grin.

“Mn.” The corners of their mouth upticked. “You thought I was trying to sneak back to Trikru, didn’t you.”

Her eyes widened and she sputtered, her cheeks darkening slightly. “No! I mean. Well— Yeah. Sorry about that.”

“I think that was the first time I’ve ever seen proper security around here. Don’t apologize. Trust your gut.” They would have done the same if the situation were reversed, after all. “I’m glad you did. Want to come check on Emmie with me?”

“God, yes please. Fox has been going crazy in her tent.”

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A summary of TW notes for those who didn't want to read:

1) Illness - Same illness as before, the virus Murphy spread. More people are sick.

2) Wells' fingers - He tried to pick up a bucket with the wrong hand and ended up with phantom pain, something he didn't know was a real thing until Kova talked to him about it.

3) Medical Procedure + Nasty Stuff - Emmie gets sick with the virus and vomits. She also has a hemothorax, so Kova uses an unconventional way to drain the blood build up in her chest. I'm not a medical expert and wouldn't recommend doing it that way, but I've seen this done in my home village in Ecuador where there aren't many good/non-corrupted doctors. And it’s gross lol.

4) PTSD + Traumatic Memories - After #3, Kova recalls a traumatic memory from Mount Caocin that implies that they a) had to deal with this virus multiple times before, b) had done the unconventional way to drain the blood before, and c) had vaguely suicidal thoughts during their Mount Caocin era.

#the night our stars aligned (and our breaths touched)#bellamy blake x oc #bellamy blake x reader #bellamy blake imagine #bellamy blake x grounder oc #the 100 imagines #bellamy blake #the 100 #bellamy blake fanfiction #my writing #writeblr #wip fanfic

15 notes · View notes

lostinfic · 5 years ago

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6. Boston, Fall

Summary: He’s photographed devastated war zones, refugee camps and child soldiers. She writes for magazines about luxurious resorts in exotic places and five-star hotels in glamorous cities. For both of them travel is an escape, but he’s had enough of this grim reality, and she’s had enough of this disconnected fantasy. Perhaps together they can find something in between, something real, and stop running from themselves. Each season, a new destination and a chance to grow closer.

Pairing: Alec Hardy x Hannah Baxter Rating: Mature~ish (for now) Word count: 5k

A/N: Many thanks to those who commented on the chapter addition I posted this week, it felt really good to see people still interested in this story despite my absence. You’re the best!

Tumblr | Ao3

He couldn’t believe he was doing this again: waiting for her, unannounced, in front of the cruise terminal. In Boston, today. But it was different because she’d gone to his exhibition in New York and wrote a message in the guestbook, and that knowledge emboldened him.

He zipped his North Face jacket up to his chin against the cold sea breeze. And waited.

Finally she came out, leather jacket, pink travel mug and hair in lazy curls.

“Baxter,” he shouted, his voice betrayed his excitement, and he immediately buried his hands in his pockets, affecting a casual air. With a head tilt, he beckoned her closer.

Her eyes widened at the sight of him then narrowed to a furrowed brow. “What are you doing here?”

She didn’t look as happy to see him as he’d hoped. His stomach clenched.

“I hitched a ride with a mate,” he said.

“To come see me?”

“Nah, I’m a Red Sox fan.”

Sarcasm to muffle his beating heart.

A small smile appeared on her red lips which she hid behind her thick tartan scarf.

“Miss Baxter!” An Asian man jogged up to them. In his white and aqua tracksuit, the cruise line colors, he looked like a figure skater. The too-wide smile and forced eye contact betrayed his marketing position even before Hannah introduced him.

“Jeffrey Allen, the marketing liaison on board. And this is my— photographer, Alec Hardy.”

“Delighted to meet you, Mr. Hardy.” Jeffrey shook his hand with too much enthusiasm. “Now, Miss Baxter, Mr. Hardy, Festival Cruises is happy to provide its esteemed guests with complimentary shuttles to the heart of historical Boston. You will be boarding one, yes?”

“Actually, we—” Hannah began, but Jeffrey pushed her towards a big charter bus. With mild panic in her eyes, Hannah grabbed Hardy’s sleeve and tugged him along.

He followed her to the very back of the bus. She slouched down, pressing her knees against the seat in front of her. She apologized for yawning, she hadn’t slept well.

“Sea sick?”

She shrugged. “How did you know I was here?”

“Your whole life’s online.”

“Don’t you know you shouldn’t believe everything you read on the Internet?”

“That’s right, you didn’t post about seeing my expo yesterday. Not good enough for you?”

She toyed with the lid of her travel mug, twisting it left and right, then taking a sip.

“So you saw my message in the guestbook.”

“I did.”

“There was a photo of me in your exhibition.”

She sought his gaze. She wanted him to say more about the photo. One photo out of fifty. Aesthetically pleasing. That’s all. Or so he tried to convince himself. Her eyes mirrored his own anxious expectations. He wished she’d say more about his exhibition. What did she think? Why did she feel shaken?

She looked away first, bit the corner of her thumb nail. She flipped back to teasing.

“Besides, you need to pay if you want exposure on my blog.” She bumped him lightly with her shoulder.

He had this feeling again, of something on the tip of his tongue, something about her that escaped him every time.

Jeffrey came on the bus too, and they both groaned at the sight of him.

Yesterday, she’d skipped a special shore excursion to visit the World Press Photo event, she suspected Jeffrey would try to oversee her work today.

The man sat beside her across the aisle and monopolized her attention with talks of museum discounts. She listened with a tight, polite smile.

Hardy observed the other passengers, most of them silver-haired, carrying canes and walkers. It wasn’t adding up. He and Hannah may be very different types of travelers, but from her articles, he’d gotten the impression they both preferred to avoid the main tourist attractions to experience local culture. She ate street food, talked to people, danced to their music. This didn’t seem like her no matter how much they paid. But then again, he shouldn’t believe everything he reads online.

“Didn’t think you were the senior cruise type,” Hardy said, interrupting Jeffrey.

“I’m looking for a husband,” she joked.

“Preferably one on the brink of death?”

“And who loves to travel.”

She grinned, and his stomach unknotted.

“Well actually,” Jeffrey began, unprompted and unwelcome, “the average age of cruise passengers is lower than you would think.” He lectured them on the advantages of sea travel for the whole family.

Hardy rolled his eyes.

“I like to think of it as sampling the best of each port of call,” Hannah summed up.

“While dumping a ton of waste in the harbor,” Hardy said.

Jeffrey squinted his eyes at him. “You’re not one of our esteemed guests,” he realized.

He would have thrown Hardy off the bus if it weren’t on the highway. Hardy couldn’t care less, but Hannah’s glare stopped a lecture of his own.

“Don’t make me lose this job too,” she whispered to him.

Soon, the shuttle stopped near a visitor center. Mid-morning Boston was busy and cloudy. the scent of last night’s rain hung in the air, pigeons bathed in puddles. Shop windows sported pumpkins, real or painted or fashioned into garlands.

Hannah wanted better coffee than the one on board and headed for a coffee shop chain to refill her mug. Hardy coaxed her instead towards a local place advertising Fair-trade coffee.

Seven years ago, he’d photographed children harvesting coffee beans in terrible conditions. Seven years later people still didn’t care. Perhaps if he’d stayed in New York he could have convinced a few more people to choose their coffee brand wisely.

He’d meant to pay for Hannah’s beverage— an indication of his intentions— but work had clogged his mind again, and he found her handing him a cup instead.

They stood on the cobblestone pavement, unable to settle on an activity to do, neither wanting to make a decision the other might dislike. They had both been to Boston before. “As you wish,” was uttered more than once without any action following.

Hardy ran a hand through his hair and shifted his weight. Now that he was in front of her, he didn’t know what to say. It had seemed so easy in Singapore.

“I should probably get some work done,” Hannah said. “Check out a few landmarks, take some photos… “

“Right, yeah, don’t want you to be in trouble with Jeffrey. Sorry, I shouldn’t have come.”

Jeffrey interrupted them once more, coming out of the visitor center with a handful of brochures. He was really pushing for Hannah to join one of their guided tours.

Hardy opened a rideshare app on his cellphone. He had to drop by his friend’s place first, get his overnight bag back, but he might make it to New York City in time for Alys Tomlinson’s conference.

“Are you alright?” Hannah asked with a frown.

He hadn’t noticed Jeffrey’s departure.

“I know it’s not your thing, if you’d rather go…” she trailed off.

“Do you want me to?”

“I suppose not. Look, once that’s out of the way—” she waved the brochures— “we can go somewhere nice, yeah? Hang out.”

Maybe it was the caffeine finally kicking in, but there was a light dancing in her eyes as she said this, things promised but unspoken. His heart sped up like a puppy’s tail.

Hardy grabbed a random brochure out of her hands: the Freedom Trail. He studied the map. “This way.” He hurried away with long strides. “C’mon, Baxter, before Jeffrey comes back.” She laughed and caught up to him.

The trail started in Boston Common. In the park, ancient elm and oak trees fanned out their shades of red and orange. Dead leaves crunched under Hannah’s ankle boots as they walked among morning joggers and giggling preschoolers. They picked the shortest way across the park, took a wrong turn and ended up at the Frog Pond. The water surface reflected the cloudy sky, still but for the brush of weeping willow branches. Their pace slowed to a stroll.

“What did you mean earlier, about losing your job?” he asked.

“Well, I lost my job at Elite Travelers because of you and your bloody work ethic.” She poked him in the chest, and he crossed his arms.

After she’d followed his advice and exposed the magazine’s censorship, she was fired. That was only the beginning. Every other media part of the same conglomerate shunned her too. Magazines, newspapers, websites and TV shows she’d worked with before, now didn’t reply to her emails and phone calls. A secretary she’d befriended finally explained HR had blacklisted her.

As for hotels, anything part of Group Peregrine, the Mahal Kita Resort owners, became off-limits too.

“Don’t blame me for your shitty boss,” Hardy replied, though he did feel a smidge guilty.

“I know, I was taking the piss. I thought I could be like you, you know. That it’d be good for my reputation, I’d be credible, get more interesting assignments.”

“You did it for the wrong reason.”

“Alright, don’t worry, I did it for the people of Pulau Kesuma too. It can be both. I just mean I thought good deeds were supposed to be rewarded.”

“Give it time,” he replied lamely.

The cruise line’s offer was the first she’d received in weeks. They needed her to rejuvenate their image. “And I’m always up for a challenge,” she said, and he smiled at her determination.

“But you don’t like it.”

“I prefer to focus on the positive aspects.”

“Thought you were a journalist.”

“Exactly. I’m neutral. Just because something doesn’t appeal to me, doesn’t mean it wouldn’t appeal to someone else.”

“Fair enough,” he said.

“Really, I thought you’d argue more.”

He would have, but he was trying to make a good impression.

He told her he’d sent her article on Pulau Kesuma to Ellie who had translated it in Indonesian for the island population. “The maids you interviewed asked about you. Did you stay in touch?”

“They did?” She smiled, genuinely touched. “I haven’t… I meant to… did you stay in touch with anyone?”

“I try… I’m not great at it. I tell people letting me take photos will help, I give them hope. I have a responsibility to see that help through.”

“I don’t think I could ever do that. The responsibility…” She blew out a puff of air.

“It’s not all bad. I lived with this family in Kuwait, about— well, early in my career. I was young, the mother she fussed over me. She still writes to me. Yesterday, the youngest son had his first child, and they sent me a picture.”

He showed her the picture, saved on his phone, of Omar with a baby in his arms. Hannah leaned closer until their shoulders touched. Her weight against him made him forget what he wanted to say. She glanced at the photo, then looked up at him.

“You’re a good person,” she said.

He shrugged, embarrassed. He never helped as much as he wanted to, but it felt like false modesty to say so. In fact, the retrospective of his work in New York made him uneasy, and he was relieved to escape it for a day. But he knew he should have stayed to talk about the issues he’d photographed rather than go and have fun.

He was about to offer they sit on a bench and he’d buy her a pastry to apologize for her lost job, when he spotted Jeffrey, in his bright suit, on the other side of the carousel.

“I bet he’s spying on me,” Hannah said in a whisper. “We have to shake him off.”

They slowly backtracked and hid behind the trunk of a large tree.

Hardy looked at the Freedom Trail map. “We need to head that way, but he’ll see us. So we take this road to go around and exit the park.”

“Ok. Got it. Ready?”

Hannah grabbed his hand, and it surprised him so, he froze. She tugged on his arm. His legs remembered how to move, and they made a run for it. They dashed from tree to tree, laughing.

He’d once done the same to dodge bullets. This was much more fun.

Once they’d put enough distance between Jeffrey and themselves, they slowed down and Hannah let go of his hand.

They exited the park and reached the next stop on the trail, the Granary Burying Ground. Samuel Adams and Paul Revere were both buried somewhere beneath the time-worn tombstones. Neither Hardy nor Hannah could remember what made these men famous. As they kept walking, Hannah read out loud about the landmark while Hardy guarded her from colliding with anyone.

Two more landmarks and Hannah realized she’d forgotten to take photos for her blog. Hardy took hold of her camera and swiftly snapped photos of her in front of an old brown-brick building.

“Oi, I wasn’t ready.”

“It’s called street photography.”

They strode the streets, still looking over their shoulders for Jeffrey. The imaginary threat pushed adrenaline through their blood. They slalomed between tourists. Their breaths came quick and cloudy.

Old State House.

Quincy Market.

Hardy took shortcuts through private properties. “The trick is to look like you know where you’re going.” She found it thrilling. Their eyes gleamed, their cheeks flushed.

Paul Revere’s House.

Old North Church.

Inevitably, they talked about US politics, but also about history and their work. What they said didn’t matter. They were like two dogs sniffing and chasing each other. A test of sorts. A trial run.

The few women he’d been with since his separation— accidents, convenience— they didn’t feel like this. The gravitational pull of Hannah threw him off course. She tugged at the very center of him. He knew, and perhaps she did too, that they were on the edge of something great. Something all-encompassing. There would be no going back. But parts of her were wild and unknown. Like a wounded beast hides in the shadows. And so he photographed her, as she walked, as she curled her hair around her finger, as she looked at the city. Moments, seconds, like puzzle pieces that might reveal her heart to him. A hint to give him the courage to step over the edge.

In an hour, they reached the last stop on the trail: the Bunker Hill Monument. They stared at the towering granite obelisk.

“I prefer the ones in Egypt,” Hardy said.

Hannah wanted to climb the 295 steps leading to the top. The view would be worth the effort, but a sign by the door warned people with heart conditions. He stalled.

“What are you afraid of, old man?” Hannah teased.

He bristled at that. He couldn’t tell her about his pacemaker precisely so she wouldn’t overthink the age gap and see him as old and sick.

“I’m not old, I’m experienced.”

She snorted a laugh. “At least you’ve still got all your hair… For now.”

“I’ll show ye, Baxter.”

He opened the door to the obelisk and let her go first under the pretense of chivalry.

A narrow spiral staircase led to the top. Humidity beaded on the cool stone walls. By step 60, they started building up a sweat and gradually shed layers: scarf, coat, jacket, collars were opened.

Over the weeks, Hardy had grown accustomed to the foreign object in his chest, but now his hand flitted to his heart every minute.

“Are you alright?” Hannah inquired, noticing the gesture.

“Fine. Keep going.”

“I need a rest anyway.”

Pity. He gritted his teeth. How could he hope to ever get back in the field if he couldn’t even climb a couple hundred steps. No one would pause for him Syria.

“You’re wearing a suit.” Hannah observed now that he’d removed his windbreaker.

“That bad? I had it for the conference.”

“No, I like it. You made an effort.”

She slid her fingers along his collar to straighten it.

“I almost brought you flowers too,” he said and immediately regretted it— she would think he’s old-fashioned.

“Next time,” she replied with a teasing smile.

That affirmation spurred him on. He resumed climbing before he’d caught his breath. Two steps at a time. Proving a point. His heart raced but at a steady rate. The pacemaker held on.

“295!”

The top of the obelisk was a tight space of gray brick, with only four tiny windows under a high, peak ceiling.

Hardy sagged on the sill of the closest window, and Hannah squeezed next to him. She raked her hair back from her forehead, sending a whiff of floral shampoo his way.

Their panting breaths on the glass fogged the panorama. Hannah drew a smiley face with her fingertip and gave it a little beard. She grinned at him.

The fog faded and they stared at the Charles River and its cable bridge beyond the tiny squares of brown bricks. There were other windows with a different vista, but Hannah was here, honey eyes on the horizon, skin flushed with exertion, warm against his sleeve.

They talked in low, dreamy voices about the highest places they’ve visited: the Petronas towers, a volcano in Hawaii, Lake Titicaca, a rooftop bar in Hong Kong, a suspension bridge in the Alps. Up in the clouds, where humans seem small compared to nature and one’s life inconsequential.

They shared a bottle of water, and only moved when other people arrived.

Hannah begged him to let her take a good photo this time. She meant one over which she had control.

“The light’s rubbish in here.”

“I trust your skills. Just let me fix my face, must be all shiny.” She pulled a pocket mirror out of her purse and dabbed her forehead. “If I’d known you were coming, I’d have washed my hair.”

“Don’t worry, you look great.”

“Really?” she asked coyly.

“You know you do.”

“Yeah, but I didn’t know you agreed.”

“I came all the way here, didn’t I?”

“For my pretty eyes?” She fluttered her eyelashes.

“So, are we ever getting to Fenway Park?” he asked with feigned impatience.

“Knob.”

He’d been called that before, but never this fondly.

Hannah reapplied red lipstick. As she smacked her lips together, she glanced at him over the mirror. A sultry look that roused butterflies in his stomach.

He couldn’t tell whether she was serious or messing with him. She’d been straightforward about sex in Singapore, if she still wanted him, she would simply say so, wouldn’t she?

He raised the camera, and, with practiced ease, she flashed the smile he’d seen many times before on Instagram. He didn’t care for it. After a few poses, she asked him to join her for a selfie and his indulgence stopped there.

“Hungry?” she asked.

“Starving.”

Hannah had a list of trendy restaurants in Boston, and he already dreaded the place she would choose. He scowled when she guided him towards a tiki bar, but the restaurant she wanted was at the back of it.

“Half my job is knowing the coolest restaurants.”

“At least Jeffrey won’t find us here.”

Large garage-style doors opened on a courtyard, ensconced in climbing ivy, where small fireplaces and blankets kept the clients warm. It smelled like Guy Fawkes night and camping, green and smokey.

They arrived past one o’clock, tail end of the lunch rush, so a table was available. They sat at the corner of the table to see through the archway offering a view of the river.

The sun had come out, Hannah traded her scarf and leather jacket for a blanket loosely draped over her arms. She wore a tunic underneath with a wide boat neckline, and he was struck by the desire to cover her neck with kisses.

He pulled himself together while the man-bunned waiter explained today’s specials. Hannah asked the waiter what he recommended, and soon they were talking about the creative process behind the menu and his vision for the future of catering. She was fishing for some quirky details to share on her blog, and it fascinated Hardy, her easy smile, the effect of her charm on other people. And on himself. He was just one of many. She returned her attention to him, and the misgivings evaporated.

“Sorry about that. I’m all yours now. What will you have?”

Wherever he traveled, he ate the food laid out in front of him, pigeon stew or roasted guinea pig, he made do and thanked his hosts, and yet in Western restaurants, he became picky. Here, the menu offered only six meals, each one elaborate. Hannah couldn’t decide between duck arancinis and wild boar noodles, and thus his dilemma was solved; he ordered one of the two so she could taste both. They ended up eating out of each other’s plate, a level of intimacy he hadn’t expected to reach so fast.

The coziness of the setting enveloped him. The excellent food, the laughter. He wished the afternoon would never end, but she had to be back aboard the ship at 4pm.

The ticking clock boosted his courage. He touched the tattoo on her inner wrist, a simple black outline of a star or flower, he couldn’t tell. “What’s the story?” he asked. It was a blatant excuse to touch her, and they both knew it. Keeping his thumb there, stroking the delicate skin, filled him with a heady sort of audacity.

“It was supposed to be a compass. Never pick the cheapest tattoo parlor, it’s cheap for a reason. The bloke got bored halfway through, didn’t even write the cardinal points. I used to add them by hand.” She laughed then lowered her eyes. “My best friend, Erin, she got the same so I never had the heart to have it changed.”

“Erin? Is that your friend who passed away? The one you wanted to travel with.”

“Yeah… I was just thinking about her yesterday, your photos they… stirred things up.”

She looked like she wanted to say more, she stroked her collarbone as her eyes flitted between him and the river. He wanted to take a photo to study later and decipher.

“Anyway, how do you know about that?” she asked.

“I read your blog.”

“All of it?”

“You sent me a link.”

“To one article.”

Her knees rested against his under the table.

“You’re a great writer.”

“Really?” she asked, this time no coyness colored her voice.

He leaned on his elbows, towards her, and told her about the articles he’d preferred. The things he’d learned even about cities where he had been. He didn’t feel as out of his depth now, it was professional almost, except her legs were brushing together and it sent a thrill up his spine.

She had written less in-depth articles in the last year as her followers favored shorter pieces with many pictures, and affiliated links generated revenue. She confessed she missed it, sitting with one person and having a real conversation and then finding the words to convey the moment to her readers.

They ordered deserts, despite feeling full; it was a day for gluttony. She insisted on feeding him a piece of pumpkin pie.

She was a great conversationalist, always a funny quip or an unexpected question. She wanted to know people. Yet, when the tables turned, she used humor and flirting to deflect.

He thought of developing photos in a dark room. She revealed herself slowly, like an image in the tray of developer chemical. But if a photo was left in that chemical too long, it turned black, and so did Hannah eclipse herself if pressed too much. However, it was in Hardy’s nature to persist, to question, to get to the heart of things. Of people.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were coming to New York?”

“You didn’t tell me you were coming to Boston.”

“Fair enough.”

“Kind of silly, isn’t it? I mean we obviously— I think— wanted to see each other. Right?”

“Yeah.”

Hannah’s hand was so close to his. Her pink fingernails scratched at the buttons on his cuff. He opened his hand: an invitation.

“I’m glad I came here today,” he said.

“But you haven’t seen the Red Sox.”

“I’ve seen everything I wanted to see,” he answered, looking into her eyes.

His hand was still splayed opened, and he waited with a lump in his throat. She looked at him as if assessing his honesty. Finally, she slipped her fingers into his palm, and he closed his hand over them. Hannah smiled and tucked her chin in her shoulder closest to him, as if trying to hide her joy.

“I’m glad you came too,” she admitted in a quiet voice.

Affection overwhelmed him, and he impulsively kissed her forehead.

They ordered cups of tea, and continued holding hands as they drank. Her touch warmed him more than Earl Grey.

Clouds drifted in front of the sun and a cold breeze swept the courtyard. Hannah shivered, and he pulled the blanket higher up her shoulders. She caught his hand so his arm remained around her.

He glanced at her lips, within reach, parting delicately, her half-closed eyelids, and he knew she was going to kiss him.

“I’m not…” he began, compelled to warn her but not sure what about.

“You’re not what?” she asked with an amused lilt.

I’m not good at this. I work too much. I shut myself off to the people I care about. I fucked up my marriage. I can’t give you what you need.

Hannah’s expression turned to one of concern, so he pretended to have forgotten what he wanted to say.

His cell phone rang. “I have to get this, it’s my daughter.” He rose and stepped away from the table. His thoughts were scattered. He took a second to regroup before answering. Daisy was coming to join him in New York in two days, and she had some last-minute questions about packing.

While he talked on the phone, Hannah went to the restroom.

He was a dad. She’d imagined him as this free spirit, roaming the world, hurtling towards danger to save women and orphans. But he was a dad. She didn’t want to be a step-mother. They were ugly or cruel or evil. She wasn’t ready for that. She couldn’t deal with a teenager. No way. And with the ex-wife— no fucking way.

Why was she even thinking about being a step-mother? This thing with Alec, it was just a fling. Would be a fling. Nothing more. Whenever she slept with a man abroad, she made a point never to see him again after. Hardy was no exception. She wouldn’t see him again and certainly never meet his daughter.

An impatient knock on the door startled her. She quickly pulled up her pants, though she couldn’t remember if she’d peed or not.

As she walked back to the courtyard, Hannah observed Alec who was lost in thoughts. Why did his sad eyes make her want to blow him so much?

She could have kissed him hours ago— should have— but she’d enjoyed the slow blooming of it. The way her touch rippled through him. He was so starved for it, he didn’t even know. Yet he held back, and she couldn’t understand why.

“I’m not with her mum anymore,” he said as soon as he saw her. “Divorced. There’s no going back after what happened.”

If she asked what happened he would tell. He would open up to her. She didn’t ask.

“It’s fine. Don’t worry about it. I just didn’t know you have a daughter.”

“Well, I didn’t mean to keep it from you. Can’t believe I haven’t mentioned her.”

“So you’re a daddy, that’s kind of hot.”

“No.” He inspected her, a wrinkle deepened on his brow. “Did you want to go?”

She was still standing up behind her chair.

Alec paid for both their meals, and then there was nothing to do but leave. She asked him to walk with her to the visitor center where she would catch the shuttle bus back to the ship. She wasn’t ready to part from him yet. The closer they got to the visitor center, the heavier her heart felt. Alec’s eyes were on the ground with serious dimples in his cheeks. She wanted to say something clever and flirty to lighten up the mood.

They rounded a corner and saw the big white charter bus, with Jeffrey standing beside it. They backtracked a little, just out of his sight, under an old-fashioned lamp post.

Once again, they stood face to face on the pavement, without knowing what to say, but for entirely different reasons now.

“I should let you go,” he said even as he stepped forward, closer to her.

Those eyes of his were on her now, wide, almost pleading. He made her feel so warm and soft inside, pliant, in a way she didn’t recognize about herself.

She stepped closer too.

She’d made her desire abundantly clear, twice he’d turned her down now, the ball was in his court.

Hesitantly, he brushed a strand of hair behind her ear. His fingers lingered on her jaw, and she could have melted in that touch.

He straightened his shoulders, and she sensed he’d come to a decision.

“I can’t leave without kissing you...”

“Go on, then.”

He laughed at her impatience. A deep breath, and he dipped his head to kiss her. Just a brush of lips at first, enough to send sparks through her blood. The day’s energy finally released. His fingers carded through her hair, her arms wrapped around his waist. The kiss deepened, and she felt it to her toes. People walked around them and leaves twirled in the wind, and they kept kissing. It was a day for gluttony. She gorged herself on every bit of lust, sadness and hope.

Hannah kept her eyes closed and Alec rested his forehead on hers. She felt peaceful and high-strung all at once. She relaxed her fists that were clenched into his jacket.

He sought her mouth again, with more confidence, hands splayed over her ribs, wide and steady.

Engine noises alerted her to the shuttle about to depart. Hand in hand, they walked over to it. In front of the door, he pulled her into a hug.

“I wish I could take you on board,” she whispered against his neck.

“I can be a stowaway, I’ve done it before.”

She chuckled and they kissed again, holding each other close. Jeffrey cleared his throat meaningfully.

“Where are you going next?” Alec asked.

“Portland, Maine. Why? Do you have another mate you can hitch a ride with?”

“I could find one.”

“It’s a date, then.”

Chapter 7: Portland

#Hardy x Hannah #Alec Hardy #Hannah Baxter #teninch fic #Broadchurch #secret diary of a call girl #crossover #travelers AU #lostinfic writes stuff

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diveronarpg · 6 years ago

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Congratulations, GHOST! You’ve been accepted for the role of OTHELLO with a faceclaim change to Oscar Isaac. Admin Kaitlin: Oh man, Ghost, you have no idea how long I have been waiting for an Odin to bless our dashes. I’m not sure exactly what it is about him, but he’s one of those characters that has just always been enchanting to me, and I am so so so stoked that we’re finally going to have him on our dash. I absolutely loved the version of him that you gave us in this application, and I can’t wait to see where you take him from here! Please read over the checklist and send in your blog within 24 hours.

WELCOME TO THE MOB.

Out of Character

Alias | Ghost

Age | Twenty-four

Preferred Pronouns | She/Her

Activity Level | I haven’t been on tumblr, more specifically the rp world, in like a long ass time so it might take me a couple weeks to get back into the swing of things (this goes for writing too) but I am going to be on at the very, very least 3-4 times a week and that’ll be on a bad week tbh.

Timezone | EST

Current/Past RP Accounts | Yikes. These. Are. Old. They were all hard to find because my memory (and liking to weird and complicated urls) is a little foggy and 3 are from the same rpg but here you go! The last I had deleted interactions off of but it has A LOT of character building posts I made for her.

In Character

Character | Othello; Odin Bello. Can I use Oscar Isaac, please?

What drew you to this character? | I was originally looking at Delilah when she was auditioned for an taken up by the perfect player. So, I decided to read him and I fell in love. I love broody “bad” boys who are also hella loyal and lost. I like his mix of brutality and passion. There is so much room for him to develop and I always look for that in characters. The last bit of his bio also sums up perfectly what I see in Odin. A constant battle with himself, really.

All must learn a little bit of cruelty in a time where there is no room for kindness. All must learn to be a little kind in a time where the world only knows to be cruel.

What is a future plot idea you have in mind for the character? |

I. Bellamy. Out of all Odin’s connections, I feel I could have the most fun with this one and this is why this is a major plot idea I have stirring in my noggin. That is, of course, if it is ever feasible. It also plays into his and Bellamy’s connection to Pandora. He obviously wants to use Bellamy to potentially have a connection to the Montagues, to have someone inside to give him whatever information he needs. He also wants to take Pandora down. They are equal, but to him there could only be one brutal entity running around Verona. I’m sure he knows Bellamy’s annoyance with Pandora and what better way to find a way to tear her down than through Bellamy? If the blood is not on his own hands, how could he be guilty? If it wasn’t a Capulet that were to be Pandora’s demise, then there’d be no need for an outcry of more war. It seems to be the perfect concoction for a messy ending, but for who???

II. Delilah… I want Odin to regret the day he ever met her and not because of her supposed unfaithfulness, but because he was never man enough to love her right. I want him to watch her succeed and truly KNOW that he fucked up. I want him to try and make up for it and I want him to fail. Honestly, I am a sucker for hurting my own characters and what better way than giving Othello a taste of his own medicine?? It will also prove Ivan’s disloyalty to him and that would add a whole new level whenever this man comes into the picture in Diverona. I want Delilah to succeed so bad if you can’t tell.

III. PICK A SIDE ODIN!!! I want him to become one or the other. His mother or his father. I want there to be a downfall so hard that he either gives up all hope and becomes the monster people knew he would become or for him to see the errors in his way and try to make emends for them. No more broody, brutal and crying Othello. No more bloodshed. No more war. Every action has a consequence and so far he has gotten away free of harm. I want to tatter him up, strip him down and still see if he thinks brutality and kindness could have ever shared a home in the same body.

Are you comfortable with killing off your character? | Bring it on!

In Depth

What is your favorite place in Verona?

Odin took in a breath of fresh air, filling his lungs with the oxygen he knew he needed to survive. Some people say they don’t need a thing in this world to survive the bitter taste of reality. Yet, he knew as long as he was alive, he knew what it was like to need something so badly you would die for it. He felt he needed oxygen just as much as he neededVerona. To pick and choose a favorite place was like asking him if he’d rather go deaf or blind. He’d choose both over losing any spot or step he had in this city.

“I didn’t come back to this home to be asked to favor one area in it over the other,” He licked his lips, eyes looking around him. It was the closest thing he ever had to a home. “Would you pick a favorite child out of ten if you had them?” He laughed, something hollow and telling of the answer he already knew.

No.

Because when it comes to something you love, you love all of it, not just the pieces that bring you the most happiness or contentedness. Through all the ugly you love it. Just like through all the blood and glorious battle, Othello loved his fair Verona.

What does your typical day look like?

***6:00 AM: The alarm on his bedside table goes off, but he is already awake. The muscles in his shoulders ache from a sleepless night, but he reaches over and dismissing the tone before sitting up in bed. His feet hit the cold floor beneath him as he stretches out his body, groaning in what seems like pain. They tell you about the hurting and then the healing, but somehow he missed the healing.

6:05 AM: Hot water runs in the shower, the steam filling the room and fogging up the mirror. He stands, forehead against tile as his skin burns beneath the water. He prepares his mind for the day that follows. He remembers his father, his stern glare and harshness. He remembers how he is just like him and it helps his mind to adjust to the world he is about to enter. He reminds himself that kindness only gave him the hurting. He wonders when the healing will ever come.

6:30 AM: He is dressed in uniform, sitting in the driver’s seat of his vehicle. He waits for the cold to leave his bones, but it never does. He adjusts the mirrors and his walkie-talkie before starting his car and driving off. Verona seems still, but he knows the facade way too well to believe it to be true.

6:47 AM: A running car is parked on the side of the road, driver’s side open, body splayed out over the top of the hood. He puts his lights on and pulls over. When he comes up to the person, it is clear they are no longer a part of the land of the living. EDM pounds through the speakers of the car, the hood covered in rose-gold chromatic dust. He takes in a deep breath before going back to his car.

6:50 AM: Odin comes back with a bag of white powder, some wipes and a plan. There are no known users of what the Capulets call il sangue di Faerie and there is good reason for that. Even he doesn’t know much about the dust, but he’d protect his family no matter what. He might have been cold and hardened over, but he had always been a faithful man. His loyalties were concrete. So, he did what he could to hide the truth. He cleaned up the mess of Faerie’s Blood before wiping the cover-up drugs over unbreathing nostrils, sprinkling the rest over the hood that once shined like the lights of the night life that hid these secrets as well.

6:53 AM: “Dispatch, we have a problem,” He spoke calmly into his walkie-talkie, eyes never leaving the corpse in front of him. “We have an overdose victim on the side of the road about 3 miles away from The Dark Lady. Send medics immediately. Suspect appear to be dead. ” He waited only moments for a response that help was on the way. At least this person didn’t have to experience the hurting. If only he was able to stick around for the healing.

7:30 AM: The car door shuts. Odin watches what’s left of the scene before him. His heart rate is steady and his mindset unaffected by what just happened. This city was a battle field and there were bound to be fatalities along the way. Accidents happen, especially when it comes to Faerie’s Blood cocaine addiction…

8:00 PM: The rest of his day was uneventful. He comes home to silence, slipping out of uniform and kicking it to the side. There is a twinge in his chest that he can’t quite describe as he pulls the blankets aside and climbs into bed. He remembers and feels the hurting and thinks about the healing. He thinks about how if your dead you can never hurt and then there would be no need for the healing. Even if you’re only dead on the inside, it still counts. He is content enough then to slowly drift into a slumber.***

Odin laughed, taking in a deep breath. “You think being a law enforcement officer would be more interesting, but it really isn’t. On a bad day we catch a thief trying to steal some cigarettes or catch someone driving under the influence. Gotta keep the streets and people of Verona safe, yeah?” He licked his lips, knowing very well his real day-to-day life was more of a glorified cop show where something was always happening. If it wasn’t covering up drugs… it was covering up a murder.

Othello drew in a deep breath. “But if you really want to know. There’s never a dull day with the family. Do you think I dawn the uniform now because I fight for justice? Maybe for them, but it is a good disguise. What officer isn’t morally corrupt nowadays? It just seemed to work.” He also needed the boost after his discharge. “I became a hero and found a place I belong. So, in the end, who gives a fuck what I do in my day?”

What has been your biggest mistake thus far?

The answer was simple. No matter how much he hated to admit it and to reveal his heart, he knew no other answer to give. His jaw clenched with a whisper of pain, but what else was a strong and calloused man to do but than to swallow it down in one heavy gulp. “Falling in love,” His father also made the same mistake. “What else has it brought me other than betrayal and hurt?”

The Bello men weren’t made for love, his father made that clear, but sometimes the heart is stronger than the mind. Only his fists were never stronger than his heart when it came to Delilah. Even Odin was man enough to choose words over fists, but no one had ever told him that they could hurt all the same. His tongue always lashed out and he could see the pain in her eyes every single fucking time. The words still haunted him.

“You’re nothing but a harlot. Who will love you now, Delilah?”

But maybe his biggest mistake wasn’t actually falling in love, but letting other’s make him believe in the lies he also told. The same mistake that led to ruining a good name– hurting a beautiful and kind woman. He never deserved her and he never will. He was his father and she was his mother. Black and white. Cold and warm. Cruel and kind. They were the spitting image of what he grew up watching and everyone now had the answer to the question they asked for years. The question he even had deep beneath his ribs.

Which do you think he’ll turn out to be?

Which will I turn out to be?

What has been the most difficult task asked of you?

***“Bello.” his upper said sternly, making it known that he was serious in his decision. “You’re being discharged.” He knew words could hurt, but not like this. It was what was going to happen and had no control over it. He had been reckless and care free, but this was his way out of having to live brutally and lost. Yet, he wasn’t the soldier they needed with war on the horizon. “It’s for the best.”

“That’s what you think, but what if it’s not for the best?” He asked, tone slightly aggravated. He could feel his fists and jaw clench all the same. With a familiar anger he saw growing up. The same anger that swam through his veins. “This is where I belong.”

The other man shook his head, resting a hand on Odin’s shoulder. As if it were supposed to be comforting. As if it were going to fix things. “Sometimes where we think we belong is just a stop sign along the way to find your real home.”

Odin scoffed, pushing his uppers hand off of his shoulder. “Don’t pull that bubblegum bullshit with me. I’m not in the mood.”

“You need to leave. Before this gets out of hand.”

Out of hand? Them discharging him was out of hand, but he swallowed back the news like razors sliding down throat. He raised his arms in surrender before grabbing his things to leave. “You’ll regret this one day.” He said in a tone devoid of anything but anger.

At least he knew, even with the disappointment of this entire situation, that no one in this world could ever disappoint him more than himself. He thought the obstacles he tumbled through in his life before now were hard? Try losing the last thing you believed could fix you. Try leaving behind the only life you grew to love and care about. It was the hardest thing he was ever asked to do and it ended up being the thing he was best at… leaving.***

“Fuck this question.” He sighed, adjusting his shirt and standing up a little taller to make it seem as if it weren’t that big of a deal. “Being asked to leave the army was the hardest thing I have ever had to do. I lost a lot.” He shrugged, like he always did when he wanted to brush off all the seriousness and hide that he was human– one who felt pain all the same. “But look at where I am at now. I wouldn’t be here if that didn’t happen, so, in a way I guess it was meant to be.”

What are your thoughts on the war between the Capulets and the Montagues?

“We’ve been fighting to choose sides for centuries.” Othello never bit his tongue when it came to his thoughts. Especially on war. “We’ve been battling, shedding blood, winning and losing for centuries. What makes now any different? I’ve seen all sides of war, this is just the same as the rest.” He shrugged, head tilting in a systematic sort of way. As if every question he was asked came with a question in return.

Shouldn’t you already know the answer?

“It’s human nature. If you really dig down deep, deep beneath the world’s kindness– it is built off of brutality and death. No resolution came without the conflict.” He laughed. “But sometimes people like the conflict a little too much to ever meet in the middle. Am I right? When have you last seen a war go on this long, if not to revel in the destruction?”

Extras: N/A

#accepted #accepted: othello

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guccihevil · 7 years ago

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02 of Mama, Daddy and I series.

Words: 2253

Harry leaves for tour. Theres a lot of emotions going on which causes bad choices.

«Babe, have you seen my charging cable for my laptop?» Harry asked mama as he went around everywhere gathering things and putting them in his stupid suitcase. Sighing, I continued to scroll down on tumblr, looking at cute pictures as I bit my lip. Mama and daddy didn't know that I had a blog all about our relationship, people loved us and were super jealous. Chuckling, I got up and headed up the stairs to our bedroom. There was another large suitcase in the bedroom and I lost my little smile as I spotted it. Listening for daddy and mama, I carefully put the suitcase down and opened it. Spotting my favorite jumper that Harry would wear, I put it on happily and searched through the rest of the luggage for some more clothes to keep behind to remind me off daddy once he was traveling.

Once I had pretty much taken out half of what daddy had packed for himself, I zipped the suitcase closed and picked up the pile of clothes and carried over to the bed. Dropping it all on the floor, I pushed it under the bed for safe keeping before I grinned and looked around the room. Jogging over to the bathroom, I grinned wider as I saw all his toiletries still on the counter. Taking away his toothbrush, his hair oil, floss and the actual toiletry bag, I hid it under the bed with the clothes.

«Baby? Sweetheart, come downstairs, its snack time» Mama yelled up the stairs. Grabbing my blankie of the bed, I yelled back. «Coming Mama!» Running down the stairs, I hurried into the living room and sat down on the couch as I waited for Mama. «Hungry Mama!» I called out as she came carrying two bowls of snacks. Licking my lips, I hummed in pleasure and bounced on my knees. «Harry, come eat some yeah?» Mama said as she sat down. Picking up my pillow I plopped it into Mama’s lap and squirmed around till I was comfy and tugged on her shirt while looking up at her. «You hungry baby?» Mama smiled as she pushed back some loose strands of my hair. I nodded. «Yes Mama» I whined and pouted. «I’m starving» I complained and watched transfixed as Mama started buttoning down her shirt. She’d just been home about an hour and hadn't changed out of her work clothes. Squirming a bit as I sucked on my bottom lip, I whined as she was moving so slow in getting her shirt open and her bra unhooked. I wasted no time in latching on and closing my eyes as I started sucking.

«Why is it when I need to find everything, its all just gone!» Harry complained as he came into the living room. I murmured happily as he stroked my head before feeling the couch dip down as he sat down. «What is it you cant find?» Mama asked. «Well, I thought I’d put my toiletry bag out this morning but now I can’t find it and my laptop charger is still no where to be found. And its so annoying» Daddy groaned. «I’d rather be spending time with you guys than running around the house looking for things» He sighed. Tugging my blankie closer, I suckled harder on Mama as I felt a little bad. «I talked to my boss today and he’s agreed to let me have two weeks off starting in February so we could come visit than» Mama said softly and her hand stopped rubbing my back. Harry sighed and I felt him move closer. «I can’t wait» He replied quietly. «You know you can call anytime. And we’ll FaceTime and Skype and text» Mama said as she chuckled. «This little one loves teasing her daddy in front of the camera» She said. I giggled and wriggled my bum the best I could as I was lying down.

«Hey, is that my jumper? Didn't I pack this already?» Harry asked as he poked my leg. «No daddy, this mine» I mumbled and moved to Mama’s other boob. «Y/N» Harry sighed. I put my blankie over my face and whined as I kicked my legs and suckled harder. «Did you take it out of my suitcase?» Daddy asked. I nodded under my blankie. «Did you take anything else out of my suitcase?» Daddy asked. I shrugged and cuddled up to Mama as close as I could. I could hear Harry sigh again. «I need a coffee, you want anything, love?» Harry groaned as he got up. «Cup of tea would be nice, ta» Mama replied softly and went back to stroking my hair. Hearing Daddy walk away, I whined as Mama pulled my blankie down. «Baby, you need to apologize to Daddy. That’s not very nice taking things out of his suitcase when he's been packing them all day» She said and poked my nose. I glanced up at her and sighed sadly. «Not sorry! Daddy leaving again» I huffed when Mama pulled her boob away. Sitting up, I frowned and held on to my blankie tightly. «Why can’t we go with him?!» I asked, probably for the millionth time since the tour talk had started.

«I’ve got work, baby, you know that. And so do you. We’ll get to see him very soon I promise» Mama tried to comfort me as she got her bra right again and buttoned up a few buttons on her shirt. «And we’ll talk all the time on the phone, and we’ll text each other» Daddy said as he came back into the room, carrying one cup of tea and one cup of coffee. «Ta, love» Mama said as she accepted the cup. «Its not the same» I whispered and looked down. «Baby, come here» Harry said and held out of his hand for me. I glanced at it. My brain was churning with thoughts and the thought that won made me smack Daddy’s hand, poke my tongue out at him and run full speed up the stairs.

«Y/N!» both Mama and Daddy called out sternly as I ran. «Oh fuck» I whispered quietly too myself as I ran into the bedroom. Looking around, I hurried over to the wardrobe and slid the door open before sliding it close again. Panting, I pressed my face against my hands and willed the tears in my eyes to go away. Holding my breath as I heard footsteps out in the bedroom, I froze and listened carefully. As the sliding doors was opened, I tried to hold them back but I wasn't able too. Looking up with wide eyes, I bit my lip. «Get out now and get on the bed» Mama said sternly. I whimpered and shook my head. «No! I wanna stay here!» Mama did not look impressed. She reached out and grabbed my hair and tightly held it, bending my head back. «I said, get out of the closet and get on the bed. now!» She ordered firmly. Letting out a cry as she let go of me, I whimpered and whined as I crawled over to the bed.

Mama sat down on the bed and patted her lap. «Lay down, please» She ordered as she looked down at me. Whining loudly, I glanced at Daddy who was leaning on the doorframe with his arms crossed. Getting up, I rubbed my eyes before I started lying down over Mama’s lap. «Y/N, why are you about to be punished?» Daddy asked as Mama rubbed my bum gently. I squirmed and grabbed the bed sheets. «Because Daddy has no organizations skills and lost all his things!» I snapped. Jumping and squeezing my eyes shut as Mama landed three very hard smacks on my pantie covered bum, I gasped and pulled on the bed sheets, digging my nails into them. «I’ll ask again. Why are you about to be punished?» Mama asked. I breathed heavily. «Because I. Because I said fuck and Mam, ahh fuck!» I screamed as Mama landed several hard smacks on my bum and did not ease up. She spanked me hard for ages whilst I wriggled in her lap trying to get away. Suddenly Daddy was there and they worked together to get me undressed and onto the bed.

«Let go of me! Let go! Let me go!» I screamed as I trashed around in their arms whilst being tied up and blindfolded. As suddenly as their hands had been on me, they were gone. Struggling and pulling on the cuffs that was holding my hands up to the headboard, I breathed heavily as I started to feel tired from all the struggling. «I think our darling needs a little help today» Mama said and I felt something stroke up my leg. «Seems so. Forgotten all her manners and rules tonight hasn't she? Shall we help you summarize why you’re getting punished?» Daddy said. I tugged on the cuffs again as I shook my head no whilst pouting.

Mama chuckled. «One, cause you hit Daddy and thats a big no no» Mama said as she turned me over so I was lying on my back. I felt them grip a leg each and spread them before tying my legs to the bedposts at the bottom of the bed. «Two, cause you were very lippy and rude» Mama continued as she stroked her hand up my leg slowly. «And three, for protesting way too much» I squirmed a bit as her hand was getting very close to my pussy. Letting out a surprised little scream as her hand smacked it hard, I threw my head back. «Do you have anything to say about why you're being punished?» Daddy asked. I quickly shook my head and took a deep breath. «Thats a shame» Daddy sighed. Both Mama and Daddy laid a hand on my knees and held my knees down before an onslaught of hard smacks was landed on my pussy by them both.

Crying out, I sobbed as I tried to close my legs and pull free from the cuffs. «I’m sorry! Im sorry! Mama! Daddy! I’m sorry!» I sobbed as it felt like my pussy was on fire from all the spanks. «Please, please, I’m sorry Daddy!» I cried. «What are you sorry for, baby?» Mama asked. «I’m sorry for being rude and for hitting Daddy and running away! And for hiding all of Daddy’s things!» I cried and sniffled. I whimpered as I felt Daddy’s hand stroke gently over my burning pussy. Letting out another huge sob as he landed yet another five hard spanks on my pussy. «Daddy!» I cried out. «Shh, its okay, we’re done now» Harry said softly as he opened the leg cuffs while Mama undid the handcuffs. The last thing off was the blindfold and thankfully the light in the bedroom wasn't too bright.

«Daddy» I whimpered and reached my hands up for him as I cried and sniffled. Harry smiled as he sat down on the bed and let me climb on his lap. Burying my head into the crook of his neck, I held on tightly while he rubbed my back. «Good girl, Mama is getting your blankie okay? You dropped it running up the stairs» Harry explained as he dropped a kiss on my head. Sniffling, I pulled back slightly and rubbed my pussy. «I want cream, it hurts, Daddy» I cried softly and tried to see how red it was. «You don’t get any cream, not yet. It’s supposed to hurt. Supposed to remind you to not do naughty things» Harry said and wiped some tears off my cheek. I looked up at him sadly, letting out another little cry. «I don’t like it when you leave, Daddy. It makes me sad and than I feel bad for feeling sad and its a whole thing and its no fun at all» I tried to explain in between sniffles and cries. «I know, I know. But I’m still here. I’m not leaving just yet» Harry smiled and kissed my cheek, pulling me back down against his chest.

«Here we are. Blankie and I brought a few other things as well» Mama said as she came into the bedroom. Taking blankie quickly, I rubbed my face against it and sniffled. Harry laid me down on the bed and I felt Mama take my hands and she hushed me gently while stroking my hair as Daddy sat up and grabbed the nappy. «He’s right there. Daddy is just going to get you all comfy in your nappy and some pjs okay?» Mama whispered. I did a tiny nod. «Good girl» Daddy said as I lifted my hips up slightly for him so he could put the nappy under me. «Don’t let me fall asleep. I don’t want to sleep» I whimpered and looked between the two. «Please? I just want to stay with you and have more time before you leave» I begged as Daddy fastened the nappy. «Sure. We can go downstairs and watch something on TV» Harry said as he got my pjs and started putting them on. I nodded and wiped my eyes with my blankie. «I love you Daddy and Mama» I said softly. Mama leaned down and gave me a little kiss. «I love you too, baby» She smiled and moved back, giving Daddy some room as he leaned in giving me a kiss too. «I love you too» He smiled and gave me another kiss.

#harry styles blurbs #harry styles imagines #harry styles prompts #harry styles dirty imagine #harry styles preferences #harry styles one shot #harry styles #Mama Daddy and I #requests open #let met know what you think

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pastdefined-a · 7 years ago

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I’ve taken some time to digest The Situation and ultimately, I refuse to let this be a moment that bothers me, upsets me or turns me away from doing something I enjoy. I’m nearly 30 years old, for once in my life I am happy with where I am, I have accepted my struggles and my own personal issues; I am not about to let a child with a victim complex try and destroy me.

Was my initial message to Cade after the other night “grow the fuck up”? Yes, I will admit that. It was a knee-jerk anger moment. I have a temper. You can ask the men from last night’s mosh pit that you don’t push me. But then I took the time to message her...

"Yeah, you know what, I have one problematic ship. I don’t condone it. And I write it, wrote it actually. With one partner for multiple years. I don’t promo my Bella blog, I write in a very closed circle. You went out of your way to dredge that up, after months. Not that it’s any of your business: but I haven’t been writing that ship, that blog, or any blogs, because I’ve been dealing with my own depression. Wait, I’m an ableist, right, so how could I possibly have depression? I haven’t been on Tumblr in months. I lost my grandfather, I tried to kill myself immediately after. Are you happy to hear that? Are you happy to know that while I was trying everything I could to help you with your discomfort with the group, literally trying my hardest to mend the situation in a way that wouldn’t require you leaving, and while I was on vacation, my grandfather was in the hospital dying? We’re not bad people, Cade. We just don’t have the same opinions as you. And I tried. I’m sorry you blame us for everything. But I haven’t bad mouthed you once. I haven’t mentioned you since you left. I would never stoop so low as to drag your name through the mud. You can have your problems with us, you can reflect how you want. I know this isn’t the first time you’ve said nasty things about us, about me. You’ve vagued about us. You blame us. That’s fine. I’m sorry things didn’t work out."

Their response? To block me, on any blog I tried to reach out to them on, post that I should “take a hint” and then say that we were all giving them anxiety. I never wanted Cade to leave the group, but things were getting out of hand. I have been role playing for longer than most of you have been alive. I have been around the block multiple times, I have been a moderator, admin, storyteller and dungeon master many times over. The sad fact is, if a player is continuously a problem and you have exhausted your avenues of corrective action, you need to let a player go. I wanted Cade to be successful. I urged them to reach out to people, but they continuously felt ignored because messages may not have been answered in a timely manner, or answered at all.

At the time, three of us were all working full time jobs with varying hours. At least one of those people are the people Cade reached out to. I can’t tell you how many times it’s taken me a week to realize I have notifications. Cade felt that we were all talking about them behind their back, and that wasn’t true. There were no secret groups. There was one sub server created as place where a few of us could one on one do IC texts, but that was it. I had provided multiple channels in the main server to engage in active RP. It wasn’t helping.

Cade approached me at one point asking to bring on another muse. My concern with how they were struggling to connect with muns and drive their own personal storylines and growth that the addition of another muse wouldn’t be helpful and they would only get more upset and stressed out. I told them no, for that very reason.

One repetitive issue was topics would be brought up in “the dumpster”, our ooc channel, that would grow heated. Cade became argumentative and when people attempted to have a conversation, or voice their own opinion, Cade would immediately back down, or waffled. It frustrated a lot of players. The boiling point was when I was on vacation and unable to moderate the chat actively. IIRC it was regarding the portrayal of South within RVB and things got out of hand. Cade left the server and I was furious. Frankly, I was furious at everyone. It was my first time off of work in 7 months, my grandfather was hospitalized, I had a lot on my mind. I spoke with Cade and told them they needed to decide what they wanted to do. A few days later they approached me to tell me that they wanted to remain in the verse but not on the server. The only problem was that at this time 90% of our activity was taking place on Discord. We were all becoming less and less inclined to be on Tumblr. I expressed to Cade my concern, once again, that they would be unhappy and unable to actively participate in the verse if they weren’t on the server and that I would advise them to come back on but ignore the OOC chatter.

There was a conversation regarding RT hiring animators. A byline on the application was applicants have a sense of humor, and one member made the comment “lmao i feel like that's the equivalent of putting: "tumblr need not apply"” Cade’s response was “but a lot of their fans are on tumblr?” and that’s when “the joke, cat, the joke” happened. Up until this point, we all knew Cade as Cat. None of us had been approached or made aware of Cat being Cade’s deadname. If we had, it never would have happened. Yes, Katie came to me and told me what happened. She told me what happened because she chose not to respond to Cade’s message and it wouldn’t be the first time Cade would mention to me that people were ignoring her messages. The number one rule of my verse had always been “don’t be a dick”. And if I believe someone was being mean, out of line, needed reminded, I handled it. I spoke with more than one person about such behavior while we were active. What irked me wasn’t Cade’s request, but how they chose to go about it. It was what upset Katie as well. There had been a continual issue of Cade not being able to conduct conversations with simple manners, a please a thank you or even a genuine apology. And this was just the end of it.

When Cade left, we didn’t talk about them. But I know we were vagued about or brought up multiple times. None of us messaged her. We just went our separate ways.

On June 14 my grandfather died. Yes, I attempted suicide when I got home from his funeral. I realized that I just needed to be the person he wanted me to be, and I got my shit together. I got a new job, one that makes me extremely happy and I notified my followers on all my blogs that my activity was going to waver. I have barely been on Tumblr. So I missed the big July 1 call out post about me and all of us from two of Cade’s blogs. They were only brought to my attention the other night when Nova flipped out on our server. None of us had seen the anon messages. And honestly, there were varying degrees of caring.

I’m not transphobic or ableist. Full stop. Now as for the incest: I write Bellatrix Black. Please, take a moment to look at the Black family tree. I previously had one partner that I wrote Bella and Sirius in a romantic relationship with. It stemmed from a shared head canon that up until Sirius left, Bella and Sirius would have been arranged to be married and also that the amount of hate they had for one another came from somewhere deeper than just being related. That’s it. I’m not going to fall on my sword for that. It was in my rules so people would be aware of it.

The truth is, looking back, I should have known from the beginning that Cade wasn’t going to be happy in my group. Cade and their sister had intended to join as North and South together. Flash came to me asking to join as North and it was becoming apparent that Cade’s sister wasn’t going to be making North. I felt bad, but I wasn’t going to turn down another writer because of it. But it was always an underlying problem.

I’ve made my peace with this issue, I’ve moved on. I’ve hoped Cade would find their peace as well, especially since they’ve claimed to have left the fandom. I tried apologizing, because I never wanted anything like this to happen. But I don’t accept the blame that people want to place on me. I don’t blame my own actions or decisions on anyone but myself, and I don’t think anyone else should.

Now, if anyone would like to discuss this, I’m here to talk but you can not message me anonymously. I won’t let you hid behind a wall if you want to say hateful things to me. You get to own your actions or say nothing at all.

#❛ ✧ : I KNOW WHAT THE MISSION IS ❜ ( OOC )

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