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rawiswhore · 2 years

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The Hardy Boyz x Fem Reader- "I See You"

Even though I post fanfics in patterns, like one week on Sunday I'll post a fanfic, then on Monday I won't post a fanfic, etc., I didn't post a fanfic yesterday, although I did think of doing it.

Why?

Because it was Jeff Hardy's birthday the next day, and I thought maybe I could post 2 fanfics about him on his birthday.

This was the fanfic I wanted to post yesterday...

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At the end of 1997, you were shedding out of your classy, elegant valet role you played in the World Wrestling Federation and began wearing less clothing, not to mention started showing a vastly more provocative side to you than what you previously were, which gave you more chances to do certain things you couldn't do before.

In October of 1997, you were the valet for D Generation X, who at the time were comprised of Shawn Michaels and Triple H, and they had a match against the Hardy Boyz, who at the time were jobbers that didn't have their signature fishnet sleeves and Hot Topic bondage pants yet.

Instead, the Hardy Boyz wore checkered tights and Jeff Hardy had blond hair that looked natural and not rainbow colored.

This match was broadcast on television for people to see.

During the middle of this match, you had interrupted the match by walking up the little set of stairs and staying there, although that wasn't the only distraction you did.

As you walked up those stairs, the camera as well as the fans and commentators were all focused on you.

Some male fans were cheering for you and whistling at you, Jerry Lawler perking up on commentary (literally) and shrieking over your beauty.

When you stood on top of the stairs, with a smirk on your face while you stared at the Hardy Boyz, you began to slowly unbutton your cardigan.

The cardigan you wore was a slim, sexy cardigan that clung to your body, had a V-shaped neckline going down to your chest, wasn't bulky, fuzzy and oversized, didn't have any tacky designs or colors on it, just a black cardigan with silver buttons in the front.

It looks like the cardigan Renee Zellweger wears in the movie "Empire Records", in fact, your outfit you wore during this match was inspired by that cardigan and miniskirt outfit Renee wore in that movie.

While you unbuttoned your cardigan, the camera was filming and focusing on you.

Your hands were sliding the buttons out of the wholes of your cardigan, and as you were unbuttoning your cardigan down, more of your skin was being shown.

Many male fans in the audience were perking up and their eyes were growing wide seeing you unbutton your cardigan, hoping to see some nudity.

You had a bra underneath your cardigan, much to the dismay of the horny males watching this, but you did show a lot of skin.

The Hardy Boyz eventually turned their heads and saw you undoing your cardigan, to which Matt and Jeff stopped in their tracks and their eyes were glued to you.

Matt and Jeff were distracted over you, their eyes following your cardigan getting unbuttoned down to the bottom.

Jeff was getting a smile on his face seeing you undress.

"The Hardyz are gettin' Hardies!" Jerry Lawler joked, which made some people in the audience laugh and chuckle, whereas others rolled their eyes.

Once your cardigan was completely unbuttoned, you pulled and separated it apart and bared more of your torso, showing off your flat stomach and navel as well as your silky Wonderbra bra that matched and blended in with your cardigan and outfit, your eyes staring at the Hardy Boyz as you showed off yourself.

Male fans in the audience got out of their seats and cheered when you exposed your bra and torso, many of the grown male fans whistling at you.

The Hardy Boyz, meanwhile, were standing there completely distracted by you, staring at your cleavage peeping out of your Wonderbra you wore.

Jeff and Matt might've been standing away from you, but they can clearly see your flesh and torso out in the open for them.

As you stood next to the ring flashing your bra at the Hardy Boyz, you still kept that smirk on your face.

"Is that a Wonderbra she's wearin'?" Jerry Lawler asked. "A Wonderbra indeed!"

Jeff and Matt both smiled as they gazed at your cleavage and torso, and as the Hardy Boyz were getting distracted, Shawn Michaels and Triple H attacked Matt and Jeff, pummeling them while the audience reacted.

"It's a trick!" Jerry Lawler exclaimed.

No duh!

That's the whole point of wrestling valets and managers in general.

While Shawn and Triple H attacked the Hardy Boyz, your hands pulled your cardigan together and quickly buttoned your cardigan back up, much to the dismay of the fans, not to mention laughing while you pointed your index finger at the Hardy Boyz getting distracted by you.

Before Debra, Stacy Keibler and even Trish Stratus, there was you.

Although, it isn't like you're the first wrestling valet to distract opponents with your beauty and flirtatiousness, because before you, there was Sunny, Marlena, Sable, Miss Elizabeth, and more.

#the hardy boyz #jeff hardy #matt hardy #1997 #90s #wwf #birthday #happy birthday

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inactive-seathesilverlinings · 3 years

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Three for a Girl

“She’s just a girl!”

Ah yes, just a girl. Just a girl, who by the age of five has fled more homes than she can count running from her uncle, towed by her father’s hand and stern but loving words. By the age of seven she speaks multiple languages that she’s had to pick up quickly, knows the signs that point to them having to run again better than she knows her own mind.

They’re living in relative safety by the time she’s eight and her father makes himself a powerful friend. At nine she’s suddenly deep in the fray of five brothers, all five of which can easily be rough, and tumble given the chance. When she’s ten she gains an older sister from the blonde English girl that visits every so often with her parents and another older man who teaches them all things he probably shouldn’t.

By eleven she’s extremely skilled in a number of fighting styles, it just seems to come naturally to her, not that she minds; the physical release seems to quieten her mind. Twelve comes around almost faster than the kick that knocks Scott flat on his back and earns her her name.

Thirteen and Jeff Tracy is dead. Her father’s best friend, the man who essentially saved their lives, adoptive extra father, is gone. Grandma Tracy, a woman she had met a few times who treats her with just as much love as she treats her grandsons, moves to the island. Her father loses part of himself, he stays for a few more months and then he can’t anymore. He retires and leaves, despite the protests of the Tracy family that he’s more than welcome to retire and stay on the island with them. She doesn’t even hesitate.

Flash forward to nineteen and International Rescue is up and running again, and despite stints in college, USAF, NASA, WASP – all over the globe – everyone is back home, with the exception of John who now has his home in the stars like he always wanted. Her secret is safe, but her uncle hasn’t reared his ugly head in some years, hopefully he’s gone for good.

Twenty, very nearly twenty-one and the sea quakes start.

“She’s just a girl.”

Only a girl, that’s right. Raised to be prim, proper, polite, and posh; with the expectation that’s all she’ll ever be. Tiny, petite, well spoken, sky eyed, blonde as the champagne that fills a parent’s glass but just like that same liquid there’s a fizz inside just waiting for an opportunity of release.

But when her mother dies she loses all confidence, and the man always at her father’s side becomes the man always at hers instead.

Parker see’s her for what she is. She’s little and lost and more than a tiny bit scared as she sits in the back of the big car all alone while father is busy. So he teaches her. He teaches her things a lady definitely shouldn’t know, and tells her stories a lady definitely shouldn’t hear, but she laughs and he grins as her confidence to be out in the world soars.

Father meets Jeff Tracy when she is still tiny. A business associate, whose wife and (at the time) three sons quickly become like family. And two years later, by the time the fourth son is born, an extremely loud little ray of sunshine, the families are visiting each other at least five times a year.

So it’s only a natural and logical step forward when Jeff offers her a place in IR. The only thing she stands firm on is “Not without Parker.”; he concedes with a smile and a friendly wink, “As the lady wishes.”

The next years pass quickly. She’s fast to pick up moves taught by a gaggle of brothers and a singular sister. She’s not as adept as Kayo, but she manages to put each of the boys down at one point or another (except for little Alan of course, he watches from the side lines instead, wide eyed). Brains builds FAB 1 and she and Parker become an unstoppable team. International Rescue hits the ground running, anonymity at its core.

Then Jeff Tracy dies.

She see’s the boys she calls brothers have their world implode around them for a second time, and she does what a lady does best, and she does her utmost to help them hold together.

Five years later and while the grief is still raw in some spots, things are settling back to a relative normal. Despite Alan still being too young to join them IR is back in the fray, but this time with their faces on display. Except hers of course, a lady must have some secrets.

Three years pass and life is a steady stream of the IR missions she prefers and the social engagements she must endure. Visits to Tracy Island are frequent and full of carefree laughter.

Then she hears John utter a name she hasn’t heard in years, and the real work begins again.

#magpies #thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds are go fanfiction #thunderbirds fanfiction #three for a girl #thunderfam

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tpwkxxangel · 3 years

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Side A: Track 1

//this is a continuation of a fanfiction that i am writing. if you haven’t read the prologue before this, please check it out or else this might not make sense. if you have any comments, let me know! here is the masterlist //

**************

June 2018

"Thank you Dallas!" Harry calls to the stadium full of fans. The cheers are loud and fill Harry's heart with love. It always amazes him how people sing his lyrics back to him. If someone told him 10 years ago that he would be playing a sold out arena, by himself, while touring his first debut album, he would think they were insane.

Every night, it takes a toll on him though. The energy in every venue and the laughs shared between him and his audience is so difficult to end. The endings are the worst part aren't they? This one is bittersweet.

Harry gives one last wave of his hand before walking off backstage. His breathing is a little labored due to him giving 110%.

"Another great show, Hersh! We should do something to celebrate!" his manager, Jeff, pats his back while handing him a towel. Harry gives a small appreciative smile before wiping off the sweat from his face. Jeff sighs knowing that this night won't be any different than the last month and a half. "Can you at least go out for one drink? You haven't been out in so long. We all miss you..."

Heartbreak can change you, and that's exactly what it did for Harry. He met Camille when he was in One Direction. She's a few years older than him, but no one could resist the Styles charm. After a few conversations at parties they both found themselves at, they started dating. Nothing was public of course, but the relationship was real none the less. Over the eight month relationship, Harry feel in love with the model. Towards the end, they both got really busy and couldn't devote as much time to the relationship as needed. There were other factors that made things difficult, so they decided to brake things off. Harry has never felt a pain like that in his life.

So he shut down.

He has always had big emotions that invade all of his senses, so when his love was taken away from him, he couldn't stand the brokenness he felt. He began to numb his pain with various methods, but nothing worked. He still feels all the pain he felt when he watched her drive away from his flat in London.

"I don't know man...I'm not feeling--"

"Up to it. Yeah, I know, but H. You are bottling up all of these feelings and that isn't healthy. I think a night out will be good for you. Have you called your therapist lately?"

His therapist lives in London, so when he is traveling, he usually calls in. It's nothing to be ashamed of. Think of it like paying for someone to spill your emotions to and they can't say anything about it.

Maybe Jeff is on to something. This bottling things up is tiring, so a night out may be fun.

"Fine. I'll go out as long as I'm back by two. We have to be on the road at nine and I'd like to get some rest before we leave."

"Deal!"

~~~

The air was stuffy in the heated club. They were all in the VIP booth on the second level of one of the hottest clubs in Dallas. Harry was sipping on his drink trying to pass the time. Only 3 hours before he can leave. God, did he want to leave. The concert was tiring and the never ending heartache was causing his head and heart to throb.

He was about to excuse himself to go find the restroom when a golden dress caught his eye. He took a deep breath before opening his eyes again only to spot the girl again. She looked different than the last time he saw her. Her skin was tanner than before, sunkissed just right. Her blonde hair is curled to perfection and lips still red, but she now looks old enough to be in a club like this. Her green eyes are bright with laughter at one of the other girls she is with.

Why is she here? How is she here?

He first saw her in New York. Was she just visiting there? All the memories flood back to him, taking him back to the time where everything was more simple, a lighter time. The way her voice sent a shiver down his spine, the eye contact she made while dancing, the way she touched herself, luring him in. The mere thought of her still drives him crazy.

"Excuse me guys," he turns to his bandmates and manager, "I'm going to find the loo."

Harry makes his way over to the bar where he sees his mystery girl. He flags down the bartender and tells him to give her the order she got two years prior.

He should probably feel embarrassed that he remembers everything about that night regarding the mystery girl, but for the first time in a while, he feels like this is exactly where he is meant to be.

When she received the drink, her brows draw together in confusion before looking to where Harry was sitting. The smirk that made him curious all those years ago made an appearance on her red stained lips. She says something to her friends before downing the drink and making her way over to the brit.

He admired the way her hips moved as she walked. The dress she was wearing complimented her is so many ways. She wasn't a model, but she sure could be.

"Well if it isn't Harry. Long time no see," her voice coming out just as velvety and sweet as before. He's absolutely ecstatic that she remembers his name. That means she thought of him after their encounter like he did.

"Hello, love. Nice to see you again," he smirks back. This is the first time since his break up that he sort of feels like himself.

"You cut your hair," she says while reaching for his drink. Instead of throwing this one back, she just takes a sip, leaving a perfect lip print on the glass.

He nods in a daze, watching the way her tongue darts out, running across her bottom lip. "I was in a movie. Needed it cut," he swallows dryly.

Her eyebrow rose slightly but wasn't surprised. He gave off superstar energy. "Would I have seen it?"

"Depends," he takes his drink back, trying to recover from the dirty thoughts running through his mind, "Do you watch war movies?"

"I've seen a few," she giggles softly, not being able to picture the Brit as a fighter.

"I was in Dunkirk," Harry shrugs.

"I'll have to give it a watch," Harry nods slightly taking a sip of his drink, "especially if the cast is as handsome as you."

Harry chocks slightly not expecting her to be so forward. He chuckles nervously. "Well, I don't want to be the only reason you watch the movie. I'm only a small part of it."

She cocks her eye brow slightly at his tone. Is he being shy? That's different than last time.

Her smirk quickly turns into a more genuine smile as her hand makes it's way on his shoulder. "I actually enjoy action movies, so I have a feeling you being in it would just be a perk."

Harry feels his cheeks flood with color. He distracts himself from the beautiful girl that's starting to make him nervous by sipping his drink again. How was he so confident the last time he saw her? Probably because his heart wasn't broken and there was more alcohol in his system.

He might not be able to fix the first one, but he can fix the second one. He gets the bartenders attention before turning back to his company.

"So, what brings you to the city? The last time I saw you, you were in New York," he asks, not trying to sound invasive, but the question has been brewing in his mind since he saw her.

Her smile dropped slightly before recovering quickly. "I actually grew up here. I'm...visiting some family while I'm in town," she shrugs.

"Do you live in New York now?"

"Part time. I'm a graduate student at Columbia," she says the words as if they aren't impressive.

Harry's mouth falls open slightly. Her prick of a boyfriend was right. She is very smart. Speaking of him...

"What happened to your boyfriend?" he finds himself asking before he can stop himself. Thankfully, the bartender sets another drink next to his empty glass so Harry could hide the blush on his face. This isn't going as well as he wanted it to.

"Who?" her brows furrow in confusion before they smooth out in realization, "I don't even remember his name. You could say that I was just helping him out with an...issue he was having."

"That's very mysterious..." he trails off, remembering he still doesn't know her name.

She laughs at him. She wasn't telling him her name on purpose. One thing that anyone knows about her is that she LOVES games. They make life so much more fun, but for some reason she wanted to hear Harry say her name over and over again in his cute accent. Maybe she'll tell him by the end of the night.

"You can call me J. Everyone does."

He looks at her, and really observes her features. The way her strong cheekbones and jaw are a stark contrast to the softness of her eyes and plush lips. She is truly a beautiful creature, so he finds himself standing up from his stool by the bar and holding out a hand to her to ask something he should have two years ago.

"Would you like to dance with me, J?" he asks.

J smiles brightly in return and Harry's knees go weak. They make their way out to the dance floor as a rock song wraps up. As luck would have it, a very familiar song plays next. The irony was not lost on Harry. That fact that he wrote this song about the girl that is currently swaying her mesmerizing hips against his is so funny that he almost laughs. He gets too distracted by her subtle touches to notice the eyes on him.

From across the bar, Jeff watches his friend loosen up for the first time in two months and feels a pressure release off his chest. He was worried about Harry when him and Camille split. He knows how sensitive his friend can be. Harry leads with his emotions and goes all in. When everything went down, Jeff was the first one Harry called. His broken voice shattered Jeff's heart. It sucked since they were in the middle of the tour and Harry had little to no break in between. Harry is tough, but even his fans noticed him crying during one of his performances in Scotland.

Jeff looks back at the couple on the dance floor to find them laughing. This is a good thing. He will have one night with this girl, and then go back to touring.

Little did Jeff know, Harry wasn't planning to let this girl walk out of his life again. It had to be a sight. He was miserable and had no hope when she randomly showed up in his life again. There are such things a coincidences, but this felt like more than that.

Harry's hands find their way to the girls waist. She looks ups through her lashes at him. "You know, this is my song." He's starting to feel the alcohol in his system, so his words are slightly slurred.

Her laugh makes it's way to his ears and sends a goose bumps all over his body. "No, shit. Really?"

Harry just nods before taking a deep breath and belting out the lyrics. "She goes home to a cactus, in a black dress, she's such an actress, she's driving me crazy!" He's met with her beautiful laugh again. Maybe one day he'll have the courage to tell her who the song is about. They continue to dance for a few more songs before both of them need another drink.

"So, you are not only an actor, but a musician as well?" she hums into her whiskey.

Harry gets nervous again. "I wouldn't say an actor. It's just that one movie."

"One more than me," she giggles. Her lightly glossed over eyes let Harry know the alcohol is taking effect.

As he opens his mouth to speak again, one of J's friends from before comes up to her. She turns her head to hear what her friend says but never takes her eyes off Harry. With one nod of her head, her friend leaves.

"Do you need to leave?" Harry asks. He doesn't want her to leave again. He finally can breathe after two months of suffocating. He's finally out of his head. Maybe it's time to open himself up to new things and not be afraid of hearts getting broken. Camille moved on, so why can't he?

She shakes her head and he lets out a sigh of relief. "I'd rather stay here and talk to you. But they are leaving."

"I'll be sure to get you home," he smiles softly at her. There's the familiar flutter in his heart. It's crazy, honestly. He met this girl once two years ago, yet he is so infatuated with her. She makes his broken heart feel less lonely. He checks the watch on his wrist for the time. It's getting close to two in the morning. He wants to get out of here, but not be done with the night. He doesn't want to go back to his hotel and be lonely. He won't admit that to her though. "Would you like to get out of here?"

His eyes widen at what that sounds like. It's not like he doesn't want to be with her in that way. He was going to take her home two years ago. But, he's different than he was then. He just wants to talk to her in a place that doesn't drown out her gorgeous voice. He starts to correct himself, but she just laughs at him.

"I know what you meant, Harry. I actually have a car waiting for me outside. I know a place we can go if you'd like to come with me."

He nods quickly. "I just have to tell my friends. I'll be right back."

"I'll wait outside. Don't take too long," she smirks before kissing his cheek. She left a bit of lipstick, so she wipes it off before turning around towards the door.

Harry makes his way back to the VIP section with the biggest grin only to see Jeff quickly duck down. He was spying on him, but harry can't even find it in himself to care. He felt like he was floating in the sky towards this sunshine he so desperately needed. When he gets to the spot everyone is sitting at, all the conversations go quiet.

"I'm leaving. I know I have to be back at the hotel at nine to go to Houston. I have my phone on me. Please don't need me until then." Before he can turn around and follow his golden girl, Jeff speaks up.

"Are you sure about this Hersh?"

Harry smiles softly at his concern. "She's an old friend. I finally feel like I can breathe," he whispers the last part as everyone goes back to their conversations.

This is such a relief to his manager. Originally, he just wanted Harry to loosen up and have some fun again. He wasn't going to let him leave with anyone. That's not how you get over a relationship. For some odd reason, this girl seemed to help him more than any of his other friends have in two months.

"Okay. Be safe and text me if you need anything."

Harry nods and heads towards the door. When he walks out, he sees J leaning on a sleek black car talking to an older guy. When she sees him, her eyes light up. She seems so bright compared to how he has been feeling the past few weeks. It's a breath of fresh air, and he couldn't be more relieved to finally take a breath in.

J touches the mans arm before he walks to the drivers side and gets in. "I thought you might have changed your mind?"

"On you? Never," he chuckles while opening the door for her. They both get into the car and Harry starts to wonder why she has a driver? It didn't register in his mind until now. Before he has time to ask, she speaks.

"Stanley, to my hideout please," she speaks softly to the man. There is genuine affection in her voice and Harry can already tell this man is not just a driver to her. He nods and pulls out onto the streets. There are cars on the road, but not as many as a bigger city like New York.

"So, where are you taking me?" Harry breaks the comfortable silence of the car.

"It's a place I like to go when I'm in town," she answers honestly. She's not used to opening up to people, but with Harry it seems almost natural for her. "I travel a lot. When I come back home, things can get a bit crazy for me. I come from a family that expect a lot out of me, so it's nice to have a place to get away from everything."

"I understand the feeling of wanting to get away. In my line of work, there is a lot of pressure to act or be a certain way," he thinks back to his time in One Direction. He never wanted to be the cause of the band breaking up so he held himself to higher standards than the others. It wasn't all bad, but it hurt when his name was thrown around in the press.

"That's right. You're a Popstar," she giggles.

"Rockstar more like," he playfully scoffs.

She rolls her eyes at him with a smile adorning her cherry red lips. "I'll be the judge of that mister."

"Would you like to come to one of my concerts to see for yourself?" he asks partially joking.

She looks at him with her eyebrow raised. "Would you like me to come to one of your concerts?" In all honesty, she wasn't expecting to see him after tonight. Her life can be hectic so her friends are very limited. Harry seems like a nice guy that she wouldn't mind in her life for longer than tonight.

"Yes," he replies with no hesitation. Now that he thinks about it, he wants to see her in the audience singing along to his songs.

She smiles at him and he's back in her trance. She grabs his hand and gives it a squeeze before letting go. "Then I would love to see you perform. When were you thinking?"

"I'm on tour right now, so name a city," he says, "I have the Houston show in two days and then I head to Florida. After that, I believe I'll be in Georgia, Tennessee, and Pennsylvania."

"Wow, that's a lot of shows. I feel like I should have known you would be successful," she laughs, "I'm actually busy for the next week, and after that I'll be flying back to New York."

Harry thinks over his schedule. "Are you free on the 21st?"

She thinks for a moment. "Yes. I don't believe I have anything planned until the end of June."

"I have a show in New York that day if you'd like to come. I believe I'll be there the following day if that works better?."

"That sounds perfect!" she exclaims.

"Ma'am," Stanley interupts politely. "We are here."

"Thank you, Stanley." She turns to Harry with an intoxicating smile. "Let's go!"

J gets out quickly and makes her way to the back of the car. She pulls two blankets out of the trunk and a small bag. Harry gets out and looks around. They are at a small park. This isn't exactly where he thought she would 'hideout' when things got tough.

"A park?" he asks. He's not complaining. He'd could be at a landfill and be happy as long as he's with her.

"It's just a stop on the way. We have to do the rest by foot." He looks into her beautiful green eyes. That familiar warmth is spreading through him. He's scared of becoming more attached to this girl he barely knows, but where's the fun in being cautious?

"Lead the way, love," he gestures forward as she blushes at the pet name.

They both move to the trail that is lit up by lamps. There's a peaceful silence that falls on them. The sounds of crickets and the wind blowing is a stark difference between the roaring stadium a few hours ago. It's nice to feel this silence with her. He feels a hand slip into his. He looks down at their hands connected in shock. He doesn't know how he feels about it at first, but as her hand holds onto his, he loves this feeling. It's insane and strange but he's said it before, she drives him crazy. So, maybe him letting her take control is what is meant to happen. Loving her may be his antidote...

But, that's for another time.

She clears her throat, breaking him out of his thought. "So, where are you from?"

"I'm from a small town in England called Cheshire," he replies.

"Like the cat?" she asks curiously.

He booms out a laugh. "Yes, like the cat."

"What's it like there?" she asks. There's something in her tone that he can't quite decipher.

"It's very beautiful. I love England. Have you ever been?" he asks.

"Yes. I traveled with my parents when I was little. I haven't been in a while though. After I graduate, I plan on seeing more of the world," she says thinking of all the places she wished her parents took her to see. "What's the coolest place you've been to?"

"I love Brazil. It's lovely there. When I played in Rio, my band and I went sightseeing." he says. As a musician, you might get to travel the world, but you have a hard time actually seeing the cities you are in. When Harry was with One Direction, they would have to organize their sightseeing weeks in advance to prepare for the potential mobs.

"That sounds amazing!" she says. "Rio is on my bucket list." Before he can reply, she looks at the path and pulls on his hand to stop him. "We have to go off path from here."

He laughs nervously. "Are you taking me out into the woods at night to kill me?" Even though it's night time here, there are lamp post that light up the way.

"How did you know?" she replies seriously. He gulps before she bursts into laughter. "No, there is a place about 10 yards from here where I like to watch the sunrise. If you feel uncomfortable, we can just head back. I won't be offended." she says honestly.

He thinks about going back, but oddly enough, in the trees with her, he feels completely comfortable. He shakes his head. She smiles that sunshine smile before she leads him into the trees.

The wind starts to whistle, gliding through the trees in the night air.

"What is that?" Harry asks when her starts to see the trees clear.

"That's where I'm taking you," she smiles. They walk through the small gap in the cluster of bushes. Once they get through, she stops them both.

"This is..." Harry seems to be at a loss of words. They stand in silence for what feels like ten minutes. The clearing that they are in is relatively small. No bigger than a baseball diamond, but it is full of flowers. There are solar lanterns on the surrounding trees to light up the beautiful scenery. The reason they stand quietly is because that's the only way to hear the music in the wind. The trees surrounding the clearing are close together causing the wind to pick up speed and whistle a beautiful melody.

J slowly walks towards the middle of the field and lays the blanket she was holding down in an open spot of flowers. She pulls out two wine glasses and a book from the bag on her shoulder before sitting down. She looks at the Brit that hasn't moved since getting into the clearing.

Harry stands smiling down at his mystery girl without saying a word.

"What do you think?" she asks softly, not wanting to interrupt the breeze.

He slowly walks over to her and sits down. "I love it," he simply states.

A strand of hair falls in front of his eyes and before he can move it away himself, J's warm hand tucks it back in place. Her palm rests on his cheek and he leans into it. He feels so comfortable as her thumb caresses his cheek. He feels that familiar heat as her thumb travels down to his lips. A small gasp leaves him as her fingertips rub against his bottom lip.

She leans forward slightly, searching his gaze for any hesitation. He can't move. He closes his eyes, breathing in and breathing out. When he opens his eyes she is the only thing he can see.

When their lips touch, it's even better than he thought it would be. The world around him disappeared. The floating feeling is back. It's like she's waiting for him in the sky, pulling him towards her warmth. He parts his lips slightly and she leans against him more. She matches his feverish movements by moving her hand to his chest. He has no doubt that she can feel how fast his heart is beating. His hands move to her hips, pulling her on top of him slightly. He is still conscientious to the fact that she is still in her dress. He pulls the bottom of it down, to make sure everything is covered.

Always the gentleman.

They stay like that for a while before pulling back. Opening the wine, and diving into conversation. She pulls out a disposable camera while he's telling the story about the time he met his good friend when they punched Harry in the face instead of the person who deserved it. As he laughs, she takes the picture. The stars shine on his face and the lanterns light up his features. When he hears the click, he looks over at her curiously.

"Um," she looks down blushing, "I love taking pictures with disposable cameras. My life can be a little crazy, so taking one shot pictures helps me remember all the important things. I don't want to forget this night."

His heart stutters and picks up double time. "You are such an amazing person. I don't want to forget this night either." He pulls out his phone and tells her to smile. She grins so brightly that he officially doesn't believe she is real. She's an angel on this Earth.

They talk for hours before she reads him the book she brought while he lays back enjoying to musical wind and her voice. When she stops suddenly, he opens his eyes.

"The sun is coming up," she smiles at him. He looks at his watch again and realizes it's five-thirty in the morning. The time has flown by. As the sun starts to rise, she finally tells him her name.

"Janis Rogers," she whispers, "My name is Janis Rogers."

He looks over at her and smiles while he stretches out his hand, "Harry Styles." She matches his smile before taking his hand. He takes this opportunity to pull her onto his lap.

She giggles, but leans back into him. He feels her sigh into him. He puts his arms around her and feels a warmth fill his chest. He could get used to this feeling.

They sit and watch the sunrise above the trees, but he can't take his eyes off her. He takes this time to reflect on the last eight hours he has spent with the girl he thought he'd never see again. The sunlight hits her face and she closes her eyes. There's only one thing running through his mind...

She's so golden.

#harry fanfic #harry fan fiction #harry smut #Harry Styles #harry edward styles #sunshine temptress #harry styles imagine #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles one shot #harry styles smut

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blissfulsun · 4 years

Text

You’ve never been in love. Your best friend is willing to show you what it feels like.

Not a request but rather the product of my own imagination. Hope u angels enjoy❣️ let me know if you want pt.2🥰 update: you can read part two here

word count: 1210

A love in practise // Jeff Wittek

People make loving look so easy. Fragile but willing to lay it all in each other’s hands. You observe it from afar, strangers at their best yet weakest:

The pretty girl in your philosophy lecture with all the answers but blushing cheeks for the tall brunette in ripped jeans that waits for her by the door after class.

Again with your friends later that night at the bar, Corinna’s undivided attention on the man dressed in a leather jacket and a wicked smile as they intertwine their hands and wave you off on their way out.

It’s everywhere, however fleeting like with your blonde friend or permanent in the way your mother checks in on you every week. So why is it so hard to write about?

‘I want you to write about love.’ An assignment that stumps you momentarily upon its request, in the professor’s individually personalised design set earlier that week.

It’s something you should have expected from the creative writing course, love being the only topic you have failed to write about eloquently so far.

Except this particular piece can make or break your entire grade, endless sleepless nights and soul poured into truth-telling only Professor Howard’s class asks so much of from each student.

You signed up for that of course, waiting lists and statements in competition with hundreds of faceless authors. You’ve been thinking about it for the last five days, every free minute spent with your heart in your throat because holy fuck you have never been in love.

‘Are you alright? You look like you’d rather be anywhere else’ the teasing words whispered in your ear and arms wrapping around your middle pull you back into the real world, where you’re still stood awaiting your drink at the bar.

Jeff has the bartender over with a wave of his free hand and one smile, it draws an involuntarily roll from your eyes.

‘One water and vodka soda for the lady please’ he recites the order from memory, confident in his knowledge of your choice in poison from many nights played out just like this in the past.

He’s been a part of your group of friends for the better part of the last year now, your initial weariness of his dazzling smile and ability to make you laugh with only a couple of witty words forgotten with time.

The two of you were so different but somehow still the same, you an aspiring writer working for one of LA’s online magazines, still taking part-time classes at UCLA in hopes of publishing something other than generalised opinions of the city’s secrets and it’s inhabitants & Jeff’s step into Youtube’s best known within his own controlled environment of the vlogs.

He leans over you to swiftly pay for the drinks & simultaneously offer a questioning look as you realise he is still waiting for an answer.

It’s on the tip of your tongue, a veiled concern of your inability to simply feel, one which will have to wait until a later time when the rest of your friends appear to coerce you both to the dancefloor among other antics of the night.

‘You never answered my question’ the brown-eyed man points out. You have left the bar behind you, both walking the short distance to your flat when the party got cut short following Zane’s inevitable accident and visit to the ER.

Jeff glances away from his surroundings to your shorter frame tucked under his arm, natural instinct to protect you in the dark of the night partially affected by the curiosity of what’s been on your mind.

He’s seen it clearly in your eyes, glazed over in fleeting moments of calm as you drank and danced the night away, ephemeral happiness laced in your tipsy smile.

Anyone else wouldn’t notice but he’s long past the denial of his sight permanently set on you, reading every expression almost like the back of his hand, every room, crowded or barren of other people alike.

A slurred confession escapes you in a whisper ‘I’ve never been in love’, one Jeff would miss if not for your proximity.

His eyebrows furrow, mind pondering if he’s miscounted the number of drinks you slipped past your lips.

‘It’s my last assignment...to write about love’ you find yourself adding following his silence, words clearing up some of his initial confusion.

‘And I don’t know where to fucking start without speaking about my parents before their divorce or our friend’s failed talking stages and my own inability to let anyone stay past the fourth date.’

In any other case, you’d scold your honesty, but with Jeff, it feels almost as easy as breathing, unfiltered in the truth of your statement.

There’s no answer from your companion, the rest of the short walk spent in silence until your keys jiggle in the lock of the door.

Jeff follows inside, shoes slotted on the rack beside your own, body towering over the sink as you brush your teeth beside each other before his fingers carefully plait your hair in a simple braid.

It’s a routine both of you have grown accustomed to, one no longer questioned by other people, either of you following the other’s path home, to your place from Saddle Ranch or Jeff’s after an evening at David’s.

He only breaks the silence once you’re safely tucked back into his side on the sofa, TV on to offer background noise in the quiet of your home & blanket wrapped around both your laps.

‘What if you wrote about me...about us?’ Jeff’s words force your eyes away from the screen and up to glance at his face for clarity.

‘Spend the day being in love with me y/n.’ It’s not uncommon for silence to follow after one of you symbolically spills your guts, the other person taking their time to find the right words to follow, careful in your response.

Which is why his declaration stumps you, sat like a deer in headlights on the couch.

Jeff clears his throat, underlying understanding of your quiet emerging from confusion rather than the considerate grasp of his thought process.

It makes him turn towards you in his seat before he clears his throat. ‘Hear me out, darling. You need to write about your experience of love right?’ at your reluctant nod Jeff continues, fingers slipping between your own and knees touching.

‘So spend the day “in love” with me. You’ll have something to write about and who knows, it might be fun’ the way he appears so nonchalant in his plan, broad shoulders shrugging when Jeff is done talking, makes you involuntarily begin to consider his proposition.

‘I...what if?’ you both understand what you’re asking without saying it, what if I fall in love with you? What if we ruin this?

Neither willing to truly grasp at the hypothetical result. The possibilities are endless, but worrying about them now won’t change anything and so you nod, slowly agreeing to the idea. For homework, of course.

‘Okay?’ Jeff asks in a soft tone, much too light for what is transpiring. ‘Okay….’ you whisper in reply, before his arms reach to pull you into a tight embrace, frame unwittingly pulled half in his lap. What did you just get yourself into?

#i really enjoyed writing it hope u guys enjoy reading it just as much🥺#jeff wittek #jeff wittek imagine #jeff wittek x reader #jeff wittek blurb #jeff wittek fanfiction #🥺i love him

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just-a-creep-babe · 4 years

Note

Hell yes can you do 6 and 35 with Jeff and/or BEN (not picky) 😩👌

I did both becuz polyam is 💕💘💖💗💓💞

~Requests are closed~

Masterlist: x

6) “Are you sure that’s what you want? I could really hurt you.”

35) “Maybe I should get you a collar so you don’t forget who you belong to.”

It’s late at night

The mansion’s quiet and, for once, almost peaceful

That is, if it wasn’t for you dry humping BEN on the couch while a crappy movie plays in the background

Jeff has his knife pressing against your throat, his hand tangled in your hair

He snaps your head back and murmurs what a good, filthy little slut you are for them

You shiver at the sound of his raspy voice

You’re so fucking horny

BEN’s rolling his hips up into you

You can feel the outline of his dick and you’re nearly drooling at the thought of having him inside you

“Cut her shirt off already” he groans

“Don’t fucking tell me what to do”

With a quick, broad stroke, Jeff tears his knife down the collar of your shirt and then the straps of your bra are snapped in half and your tits are exposed

The blond eagerly grabs two handfuls of your flesh before leaning in and pressing his mouth to your nipples

You shudder, head lolling back

“Fuck. Choke me~”

You don’t have to say it twice before Jeff’s hand is around your throat, squeezing just enough for your back to arch up and your mouth to part oh so deliciously

“Maybe we should get you a collar so you don’t forget who you belong to” he growls

And, despite not being in a position to challenge either of them, you answer with a shaky “M-maybe you fucking should”

BEN chuckles

“Careful what you wish for, babe~”

He pushes Jeff’s hand away and replaces it with his own before the other can argue

There’s a brief flicker of hesitance in his dark eyes

“Are you sure that’s what you want? We could really hurt you”

You’re not exactly sure what he’s planning, but you nod anyways because, fuck it, you’re horny

They could do just about anything to you right now and you probably wouldn’t care

He smirks all too knowingly, then the warmth of his skin is replaced by something cold, hard and heavy

Around your neck now lies a metal collar, complete with a loop at the front attached to a chain

You’re not given much time to process it before Jeff tugs the chain, hard, and you’re propped up and forced to meet his lips halfway

The kiss is hard, hungry and sloppy as he all but devours your mouth

It’s mostly tongue with teeth clashing against teeth but fuck if it isn’t one of the hottest things ever

You register your pants being undone and slipped down the expanse of your thighs, then BEN’s mouth is tasting your waist, all the way to your hips and further down

You fist his hair and guide him to your sopping cunt, groaning in frustration as he teasingly sucks your clit through your underwear

Jeff brings the chains taught and you nearly lose your footing as the breath is knocked out of you

“Better not fucking be ungrateful, (y/n). Why don’t you ask BEN nicely for what you want, hm?”

You glare at him, his dark irises like obsidian against porcelain skin

And before you can say something snappy, he yanks up on the collar

You gasp for breath, now on your tippy toes, hands uselessly clutching at the metal around your neck

BEN’s breath is warm between your legs as he chuckles and teases a finger along your slit

“What was that, (y/n)?”

“P-please,” you manage to choke out

“Please…?”

You whine, your chest heaving

You feel lightheaded, like a fish out of water, stuck between a rock and a hard place

“Please… fuck… please eat me out”

Your voice is shaky and breathless

“All you had to do was ask, babe~”

Jeff slackens the chain and you grateful gasp in a lungful of air

But it isn’t long before you lose it all in a hushed moan as BEN pushes your panties aside and his tongue wriggles against your clit

Your legs buckle and you’re almost thankful Jeff’s keeping your upright

You buck up into his mouth, gripping his hair both to guide him and steady yourself

Jeff nips at your jawline, breathing you in, marking you up all over

“Always knew you were desperate to fuck us” he murmurs against your skin

You can only answer with another sickeningly lewd moan as BEN flicks his tongue into you in every right place

The cool steel of the knife is brought back to your flesh, this time pressing against your nipples

Your heart’s pounding as you roll you head back on the male’s broad shoulders

You don’t know what to focus on—the knife or the mouth suckling at your cunt

“Ride yourself on his face, (y/n). I wanna see how nice and slutty you are for us~”

You know better than to disobey this time, and it’s not like you’d turn down the offer anyways

You roll your hips against BEN, who’s grasping your thighs between his hands and eagerly drinking up everything you’re offering

You’re shaking, legs unsteady as you grind down on him, his tongue now squirming in your clenching walls as his nose rubs against your bundle of nerves

You don’t even care how loud you’re being

With every quick, short thrust of your hips, you feel the tent in Jeff’s pants–a wonderful reminder that the night’s far from over

“Feels fucking good, doesn’t it? You gonna cum nice and hard on his face? Hm? Like a good little whore?”

He grinds the flat of his blade down on your overly sensitive nubs and it’s somehow all too much yet enough

You mewl BEN’s name, who looks up at you through lidded scarlet irises, beckoning or maybe even challenging you, and then your whole body lurches forwards and you cum

Your breath escapes you, especially as Jeff’s grip on the collar tightens

Your lips part in a silent scream, your body shuddering nearly violently between the two

You ride the euphoria out, with BEN gladly lapping at your drenched folds, and it’s only when your muscles slacken does Jeff pull you away

You almost think he’s pulling you in for another sloppy kiss, but instead he snaps at the chain and you fall over on your knees

Your head is tilted up to face him

You’re fully aware of how close you are to both their covered erections, and it sends shivers up your spine

“Think it’s time she returns the favor. Wouldn’t you think so, BEN?”

There’s the all-too familiar sound of a zipper being dragged down

“It’s only fair she does, isn’t it?~”

#creepypasta x reader #creepypasta lemon #creepypasta smut #creepypasta #jeff the killer x reader #jeff x reader x ben #creepypasta ben drowned #ben drowned #creepypasta jeff the killer

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ak47stylegirl · 3 years

Text

I have wings, so why do I feel so stuck to the ground like never before? (Fic snippet #2)

Okay, @the-lady-razorsharp wanted more of this Thunderbirds/DC superhero au so here it is! :D Another snippet!

Also big thanks to @gumnut-logic for sharing the 400 words a day thing *hugs* I’m really liking it so far, the sheer freedom of knowing that I don’t need to write anymore then 400 words is freeing. I’m really hoping this will help me get out of this mental writers block I’m in *Laughs nervously because don’t want to jinx it lol*

I don’t really know if this is any good but I hope you guys enjoy! XD

---

It was busy in the downtown diner, the Tv playing the news in the corner and general chatter from people eating their dinner made it a very loud place. And it so happened that it was his shift, so yes he was very much getting a headache from the sheer noise, he thought grimacing slightly as he wiped a table down.

But it couldn’t be helped, he needed the money this job gave him to live, so he just had to deal with it; it was fine. His wings were hidden under a glamour charm, making it seem like they wasn’t there at all.

But they very much were, he thought tensing up slightly as he barely missed hitting a customer with his invisible wings. It would be so much easier if he could always keep them flat against his back but he used them for balance, so they moved without him even realising it sometimes.

Which was really dangerous for him, he thought with a sigh, carrying a tray full of dirty cups and plates to the kitchen. He was just coming out of the kitchen when he heard it-

‘Tracy’

And all his senses went on hyperdrive, preparing to get him out of there at a moments notice without anyone being the wiser. His eyes scanned the room but he didn’t see any of his brothers, which caused the alarms in his head to quiet down a bit.

It had just been the TV, he thought with a slight sigh of relief as he made his way behind the counter/bar. He hated how scared he was at the mare idea of being spotted by one of his brothers or someone that knew him from before. He hated that one of his first reactions was to run as far away as he could, he hated it!

Even in the mask, and when international rescue and himself are in the same place; trying to do the same thing, save lives, he still feels uneasy being around them. He tries not to talk much or look at them for long in case they recognise him and well, if he looks or spends too much time with them; he knows he would not be able to stop himself from revealing all.

He shook his head, burying those thoughts deep with in his mind. He did not need to go down that rabbet hole, get a hold of yourself Phoenix, he thought as he started to clean a couple of the cocktail glasses at the small sink behind the bar.

But why exactly were the news talking about his fam-

He stilled, his face going pale as he read the headline. ‘Anniversary of youngest Tracy’s disappearance’

Oh...Oh, he swallowed, turning his face down to look at the bubbly water of the sink. It was that day...

‘Ten years ago to this day, Alan Tracy, son of billionaire astronaut Jeff Tracy, disappeared from his school, Wharton Academy, where he shared a dorm with his best friend, Fermat Hackenbacker, late one night. No one knows what exactly happened to the youngest Tracy-’

Except him, he thought with a frown, tuning out the rest of the news report as he tried to keep the memories at bay. He didn’t need to hear anymore.

“You know, it’s weird...” His work colleague, Frank muttered, starring up at the TV with a perplexed look. The news was still talking about his disappearance...

“What is?” He asked with a raised eyebrow, welcoming the distraction from his thoughts and memories.

Frank frowned at him, “The fact that you look almost exactly like that Tracy kid-”

He felt his eyes widen slightly as glanced at the TV where a photo of his past self was still front and centre; he was smiling, eyes bright with a innocent he no longer possessed. There were some differences between him and, well his past self.

For one their hair was slightly different, his hair was more platinum blond, not the dirty brown blond it used to be. The merging of his DNA with an alien’s DNA hadn’t just given him wings, his whole physiology was different. Hence his hair being lighter.

While on the topic, his hair was also more styled, up and out of his eyes then his part self, who had it more messily ruffled. He was sure there was four older brothers that could lay claim to creating that hair style.

But other then the slight hair different, and his face being slightly more defined and less baby fat, their faces looked near identical. Though he knew he was a lot thinner and more toned with subtle muscles than his past self, his body used to fighting and bending in ways that really shouldn’t be possible.

(He wasn’t going to think about the scars, he wasn’t going to think about the scars, he wasn’t going to think about the scars!)

“-you even have the same name..” Frank ended, looking at him suspiciously. He quickly switched gears, and prepared to get himself out of this situation. Good thing he was a good liar, he knew how to act to get people off his tail.

He faked a laugh, grinning at his colleague. “I do? That so Cool!” He grinned with excitement, making his eyes wide and innocent as he continued to work. “I always wanted a celebrity twin!”

“uh...” Frank blinked, visibly confused by his reaction, which was what he wanted. “But, ur isn’t it, I don’t know? Weird that you look exactly the same and share the same name?”

Frank was still giving him that suspicious look but he looked more unsure now.

“What?” He raised a eyebrow, letting a bit of disbelief and confusion show on his face “You don’t think I’m actually Alan Tracy, do you?” He asked with a laugh, letting frank think that he was laughing at the sheer silliness of such a thing.

“Do I look 25 to you?” He laughed, laying his hand against his chest, making a show of raising his eyebrows in disbelief, letting a bit of mild offence colour his voice. “because um, ouch, that hurts..”

He knew he looked young, because physically and to a extent mentally, he was still a teenager of sixteen years. Partly because of his alien DNA and because the league of assassins figured that freezing their weapon in suspended animation while not in use was good idea.

Frank laughed nervously, trying to save himself from embarrassment. “Ha ha, yeah, what was I thinking? You look more like you should be in diapers then anywhere near legal age, kid..”

He gasped dramatically, scrunching his nose up, “well, that’s almost worse!” he pouted as he finished cleaning the glasses.

“ha, yeah...” Frank laughed slightly, a slight flush on his cheeks as he walked away to serve a customer. He felt his wings, which had been tensely held tight against his back, relax.

That had been...unpleasant, normally he didn’t have to deal with stuff like that as people automatically dismissed him on the accent of him being too young, but Frank always been one to jump to conclusions without thinking if it was possible or not, so he really wasn’t surprised.

He hanged his apron up and clocked out, heading out of the busy diner and into the chilly night air; the ‘Tracy Industries’ sign on his family’s building glowing in the distance.

A part of him just wanted to be put out of his misery, he wanted to face them and just get their rejection over with because they didn’t want him, they want a version of him that didn’t exist anymore and he couldn’t give that to them.

But a bigger part of him was just too scared, too terrified to face them, to face the truth. Even though he knew it was killing him, would kill him one day, he could not bring himself to face them.

Some brave Tracy he sure was, he thought with a scowl, lowing his face, unable to face the light of his family’s sign.

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds #thunderbirds 2004 #original thunderbirds #thunderbirds fanfiction #alan tracy #Scott Tracy #Virgil Tracy #John Tracy #Gordon Tracy

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slashingdisneypasta · 4 years

Text

Offenderman x Reader || Oneshot

Title: When You Start Living Your Life- That’s Where You’ll Find The One Who’s Meant For You

Notes:

This is like a baby Offender x Reader since its been a while I’ve written anything for him and I’m slowly dipping myself back, haha. Possibly a Part 2 in the works, with more of the man himself.

Kinda based off ‘You Can Do Better Than Him’ from Bonnie and Clyde

Plot: A run-in with your ex-husband (Jeff The Killer’s son, for no apparent reason except so that he knows about Offender) causes a revalation between you and your lover.

Warnings: Some talk about sex, but its not explicit. Also, divorce.

~~~

I see him before he sees me, and I try to make an escape. Started gathering up my things and putting them away in my bag for departure, but... goddamn it, he sees me. “Y/N! Didn’t see you there! Man- its good to see you. Its been a bit, hasn’t it?” Nick puts his hands nervously in his pants pockets, ducking his head like the cute, awkward duckling that he is.

I plaster a smile onto my face, looking up at him from the grass. Jesus Christ, this is a ridiculous position. He’s like 7000 feet tall, my neck is going to start hurting any minute now. “Hi, Nick. Yeah, it has been a while! I haven’t seen you around since, a-ah… “I seal my lips firmly together, trying to be content in just avoiding eye contact with him instead of ending that sentence. Don’t say it. Don’t say it, don’t- “The divorce!”

“Aha,” He ducks glances up at me, and his smile is bright like it always has been, since we started dating. The smile I fell in love with, and used to make me feel on top of the world- capable. Like everything was going to be okay and I could accomplish any and all of my dreams.

Of course, one of those dreams was him… I think. That didn’t work out so great…

“Yeah. First meeting since the divorce, huh? Not so bad.”

That really does probe a grin from me. How does he say that while not making eye contact with m- Oh, oh, he is making eye contact! Oh, lord. This is hard. “Hah, no! Guess not… “After flashing another, little smile, I tuck in the last of my things to my satchel and close it. Then I struggle to my feet. God, how long have a been sitting there? I look back at the spot of ground that I had been lounging on, and see the grass still completely flat…

Before I make it all the way up or fall -whichever happened first,- , Nick takes my right forearm in his hand and puts his other on my waist, helping me up the rest of the way… which puts me at an uncomfortably close distance to him. Laughing nervously, I step back and occupy myself by patting dirt and grass off the back of my pants. “Um- how have you been? Uh,” I must have some information about him… didn’t Fran tell me something a month ago at our spa weekend? … Ah! “Fran said you got promoted at work?”

“Yeah!” Nick gets an excited glitter to him as he starts to talk about that, animating immediately and putting his hands on his hips- a huge beam stretches across his gentle, handsome features. Of course, the sun makes fluffy blonde hair look radiant like a fabric softener commercial. Reminds me of why I loved him.

I was determined not to fall in with a bad boy and get my heartbroken like all the girls on TV.

Turns out, it hurts just as much when you lose a good boy.

Its been a long time though, now. Half a year- and another half a year since we split up in the first place to get the divorce that became official 6 months ago. So, as he talks, I find a genuine smile come to my lips. I am, truly, glad that he’s doing well.

Of course, he never did anything, to me. The divorce was my fault.

When he’s finished talking about his job at the Oil and Gas company -Yeah, he’s a manager there. An awesome job, for the perfect guy. He was quite a catch before I ruined it, -, he asks me how I’d been… and if I’m still with… him. Nick’s pale blue eyes go dark, an obvious hatred deepens the creases in his face.

I wish he wouldn’t bring that up. We were having such a nice moment!

“Uh,” I seem to be doing a lot of ‘Uhhhh’s and ‘Ummm’s, here. Stop it, Y/N. “Yeah, I guess.”

“You guess?” He smirks, and I go pink in embarrassment.

“Well, uh- Well. I’m focusing on my own shit.” I strain the words ‘my own’. Truthfully, I wouldn’t know how to describe my relationship with… the ‘him’, that Nick refers to. Offender. And the thing is, I don’t really want to. I like the way things are. I don’t need a boyfriend, tying me down to one place, one job, one life. In fact, that was a huge problem with me and Nick. He was my first boyfriend and became my husband.

I was Y/N Woods for 3 whole years, and they were some of the most miserable of my life- and the thing is, I’m only starting to realise that, now. I didn’t know how profoundly unhappy I was during that time, when I was living it. But I know now, because when I’m with Offender I feel something dark, but good, that I never allowed myself to experimented with before, and when I’m not with him I can do whatever the hell I want. I have love, and sex, and freedom. That’s priceless.

“Right. You still think… “Nick, to his credit, does look regretful for what’s about to come out of his mouth and how. “You really think, that Offenderman, can actually care about you?”

I shrug. I have no reservations for saying what I do next. I have it lined up and ready. “I dunno, Nick. But I’m happy.”

Its that simple.

“Y/N, he’s awful.”

“I-I know… “In this moment though, all I can remember is him telling me that I own the earth I step on, and how he kisses me.

“You deserve someone better.”

My mind’s fuzzy with pictures of nights at my apartment, now. Me wearing a shirt that’s too big for me and not being self-conscious of my legs - the complete opposite, actually, - and him raiding my kitchen. Somehow his kiss still always tastes good, though. No matter what he eats. Bates Motel plays on the TV.

If a scene comes on the TV that looks good, its not out of the ordinary to replicate it- because we just can. Whether that be a recipe, trip, or something to do with sex. I hadn’t even realised you could just do things like that, before he showed me. Now it seems simple, of course…

And god fucking damn it. The sex, in the first place is better. And I’m fiucking allowed to acknowledge that. I like sex. There is nothing wrong with that. With Nick, it was planned. It was orderly, and status quo. Now sexual tension’s back in style for me, for the first time since Nick and I had our first time together and I am not giving that up.

Better than that, Nick??

“I tried that.” I snap, spine breaking finally. Is he really going to do this? Bring all this back? Glancing momentarily to set a stony look on his eyes, I pull my back up from the floor and place the strap heavily on my shoulder. He presses his lisp firmly together. “Didn’t turn out so good.”

“W- well, that was before. I’m different now, we would be happy.” My throat goes dry at Nicks words. Isn’t he over me yet? Over this? All we do is go around and around in circles. I need something else, and so does he. Why doesn’t he see that? Goddamnit… “I get that you needed- “I flash him a stern look. “Need. You need your space. I understand now, I like it to. But you’re going to have to settle down with someone eventually- and you know it should be me.”

“Nick… no.”

“No, I have to- “

“Nick!”

“You want kids, I know you do. I know you. I’ve known you since we were six. You’ve always been sweet, and bright, and gentle. I remember you drawing picture, after picture, after picture of that big blue house with a picket fence and remember the talks we had when we were older about the kids we would have. You think he’ll give you these things??” Nicks facial expression right now, is that of a desperate man. He gathers my hands into his and holds them close to his body. “He won’t.”

“I know that.” I tear my hands out from between his and speak slowly, so he gets it. “And I’m not that little girl anymore, Nick!”

Jesus Christ, this has gone south fast. I need to go.

Adjusting the bag strap over my shoulder, I make like I’m going to leave but Nick speaks up again before I can step off. “It’s a phase! -“

“Nick, goddamnit! I’m 29 years old! Get the fuck away from me with this phase, shit. I’m a grown woman. Now… “I glare at him, stepping by him. “It was nice seeing you. Bye.”

Walking off, I put my hands on my face and take a deep breath of the parks fresh air. I can still feel his gaze on me, and it doesn’t feel good.

But standing up to him, did.

Freedom.

Stopping by the bathrooms before my car, I fix my hair and look in the mirror. I can’t come back to this park, now! I’m going to need to find a new hang out spot… Pouting, I fix the strap once again over my shoulder and briefly think about whether Nick will be waiting outside - He knows what my car looks like! And the number plate, probably! – and worry, but then out of nowhere hands wrench me around and press me into the bathroom wall.

Its Offender, so I don’t panic except take a deeeeeep breath from being taken by surprise and look up at him sternly. Good god.

“Don’t underestimate me, Y/N.”

Oop, he sounds… moderately to extremely less chill then usual.

“… huh?” I’m confused. What’s going on?

“The park. In the park. What happened in the park- What the smile child’s idiot son said.”

I could not be more lost right now… The absurdity of this situation - after just having a run-in with my ex-husband who I left for the uncomfortably intimidating man who’s cornered me into a wall in a public bathroom,- mixed with the lack of context he’s giving me causes the most sincere look of confusion I have possibly ever made. “Which… Which part?”

He speaks in a voice that is somehow spot on, a carbon copy of Nick’s and for a second I’m starstruck about that until I realise Offender was listening somewhere to what was going on between Nick and I- and now he’s pissed. “’You really think, that Offenderman, can actually care about you?’, ‘You think he’ll give you these things? He won’t.’. Y/N, don’t underestimate me.”

“So… what does that mean?”

A dangerous grin tears across his sharp, wicked mouth. “I care a lot about you, kid.”

#Offenderman x Reader #Oneshot #Jeff The Killer #Offenderman #Offenderman x Reader Oneshot

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worryinglyinnocent · 4 years

Text

Fic: The Zombie Outbreak Response Unit

AU-gust Day Five: Post-Apocalypse AU Fandom: Once Upon A Time Pairing: Rumbelle

Rated: T

Summary: Caught up in the middle of an unexpected zombie apocalypse, Belle is rescued by an elite if unusual team: the Zombie Outbreak Response Unit. She quickly becomes close to their leader, the enigmatic Mr Gold.

Note: This is more ‘during-apocalypse’ than ‘post-apocalypse’ but enjoy nonetheless!

===

The Zombie Outbreak Response Unit

When Belle had first seen the advert in the local paper, she had not thought anything of it. She had assumed that someone had put it there for a dare or a prank, and she had left it alone.

When it appeared there again for the second week running, she took notice of it, clipping it out and storing it in her purse. She wasn’t sure why, because she still had no idea why she would ever use the service that was being advertised, but something about its persistence made her wonder. Better safe than sorry, after all.

Now, three weeks later, with the ad having appeared in every edition of the paper since, she knew exactly why she had kept it and exactly why it was there in the first place.

There had been reports on the news of strange occurrences for the past few days, but nothing weird could ever happen in a town as quiet and sleepy as Storybrooke, right? Mad, apocalyptic nightmares like, for example, zombie outbreaks, always started in big cities where they could spread quickly and easily.

Well, that was what Belle had thought until she had woken up this morning and started going about her daily life to realise that the rest of the town had been turned into the flesh-craving undead, and a crowd of them was now converging on the library that she lived above.

Never had she been so happy to have clipped out a newspaper ad on a hunch, as she sat huddled in her flat, looking at the barricaded door and listening to the moaning of the horde that was making its way ever closer, clutching at her phone in one hand and the cricket bat that her mother had insisted on her keeping under her bed in the other. The ad was on the table beside her, and it was with shaking fingers that she dialled the number. It couldn’t be a hoax or a prank, not when she really needed it.

In the event of being caught in a zombie apocalypse, call your local ZOMBIE OUTBREAK RESPONSE UNIT immediately. Our highly trained professionals are on call 24 hours a day to assist you.

The call was answered on the first ring.

“Zombie Outbreak Response Unit for Storybrooke and environs. My name is Emma. Are you in immediate danger from zombies?”

For a moment, Belle was completely struck dumb, amazed that it had worked.

“Hello, are you in immediate danger?”

“No,” she said eventually. “No, I’m barricaded in my apartment.”

“Ok. How many people in the property?”

“Just me.”

“Do you suffer from any medical conditions?”

“No.” Just overwhelming fear.

“We’re sending a team to your location. I’ll stay on the phone with you until they arrive. How easy is it for you to exit your property?”

“Well, I’ve got zombies coming up the front steps and up the fire escape… I guess I could jump out of the window.”

“No jumping will be required although we will probably get you out that way. Can you describe the zombies, are they fast or slow moving? Do they have the power of speech?”

The questions continued in this vein for a little while until Belle heard the rumbling of a large vehicle coming up the main street and Emma instructed her to open a window if it was safe to do so.

Opening her bedroom window, Belle had to gawp at the sight of a heavily armoured black van inching its way down the street, very slowly mowing down zombies as it went. At last it parked up below her, and a team of what appeared to be riot police in full SWAT gear jumped out of the back, setting up a defensive perimeter as one of their number extended a ladder up to Belle’s window and began to climb up.

“Hi!” The voice was female and remarkably chirpy considering the circumstances. “You must be Belle. I’m Ruby. Let’s get you out of here.”

Still shaking with fear and adrenaline, Belle let Ruby help her down the ladder and bundle her into the back of the van with the rest of her colleagues. For a very frightening few moments, Belle wondered if they were in fact government agents who, trying to cover up the fact that there had been a zombie outbreak in her town, were about to kill her and dispose of the evidence. Rationally, they probably would have just let her be eaten by zombies. Or firebombed the entire town with her still in it.

“Do you work for the government?” she hedged to Ruby.

“God no.” Ruby shook her head so vehemently that Belle thought her goggles would fly off. “No, we very much do not work for the government. They are absolutely not interested in saving people from zombie outbreaks. I’m so glad that you called us. We’d picked up some chatter that Storybrooke had been hit and we hoped that there were some survivors, and that they’d seen the ad and would call us before…”

A huge explosion rocked the van.

“…before the government did that,” Ruby finished.

Belle just sat in mute horror. There were no windows in the back of the van, but she knew that her theory about the town being firebombed to wipe out the evidence of the outbreak had just come terribly true.

There were several questions that Belle wanted to ask, ‘where are we going?’ being chief among them, but she couldn’t make her mouth form around the words. The masked figure sitting on the other side of her patted her shoulder awkwardly. It would probably have been less awkward had he not been armed to the teeth with more anti-zombie implements than Belle could name.

“It’s all right,” he said. “It’s always a shock when it happens. We’ve all been through it.”

The rest of the journey was made in silence, and when the van stopped and the doors opened again, Belle found herself in the middle of what appeared to be a disused aircraft hangar, filled with crates stamped ZORU in large letters. She pinched herself, but it was definitely not a dream. She had just been saved from the zombie apocalypse by what appeared to be a private army.

“What… How…” She looked around her new surroundings in disbelief.

“We’ll explain everything later,” Ruby said. “There are a few things you have to do first though.”

The few things turned out to be a decontamination shower and a full medical exam from a cheerful little nurse in heavy-duty hazmat gear named Astrid, who took off her helmet and gave her a huge hug after proclaiming her not to be infected. Having been sourced some clothes that were not a hospital gown, Belle emerged from the medical room into the Zombie Outbreak Response Unit headquarters.

“Hi!”

She jumped out of her skin at the voice, turning to see a tall woman with bright red streaks in her hair.

“It’s Ruby,” she said, holding out a hand. “Now that we’re not in quite such life-threatening circumstances, I think introductions are in order.” She sighed. “It’s quite rare for us to find survivors. Hardly anyone takes our adverts seriously and I can’t say I blame them. Zombies aren’t exactly an everyday occurrence for most people and since the government just blows them all up every time, no one really knows the danger.”

Ruby led her down a corridor into what was obviously the nerve centre of the unit. They were evidently a rather small outfit, but they were meticulously fitted out. A large table was set up in the centre of the room, and there was a control desk with several screens and phone at one end, manned by a young blonde woman in earphones.

“Everyone, this is Belle, Belle, this is, well… everyone.”

Belle looked around the table. The five others she assumed were the rest of the team who had rescued her with Ruby. The blonde at the control desk waved distractedly over her shoulder, that must be Emma who’d taken her call. Astrid rushed into the room and took a seat beside the older man at the head of the table. He had greying hair and dark eyes, and a cane rested on the arm of his chair.

“Mulan, Neal, Jeff, David and Mary Margaret. You’ve met Astrid, you’ve spoken to Emma, and this is Mr Gold, the mastermind of the entire operation.”

The older man held out a hand, which Belle shook before taking the vacant seat that Ruby waved her into. “Welcome to the Unit, Belle. We may only be small, but we do what we can.”

Emma took off her headphones and turned in her wheelie chair; Belle could immediately see why she was the one handling the phones as she rubbed her very pregnant tummy.

“All the government channels are reporting no survivors, we’re in the clear.”

“I have to ask,” Belle began, “what happens to me now?”

“Well, you’ve got a choice,” Gold said. “We can arrange for you to travel to a safe colony for survivors that’s been set up in Seattle, or you can stay here and become part of the unit.”

“We need as much help as we can get.” Jeff was the one to speak, and Belle recognised his voice as the man who’d spoken to her in the van. “It’s up to you, of course.”

“You’re welcome to stay for a few days whilst you make your mind up.” Astrid smiled. “I love it when we have visitors. I need to bake! This is a situation that calls for cupcakes.”

Jeff shook his head with a sigh of mock despair. “Only Astrid could be concerned with frosting and sprinkles in the middle of a zombie apocalypse, but that’s what we love about her.”

Belle didn’t pay much attention to the banter as the unit debriefed from their excursion to rescue her. She couldn’t exactly go back to the life that she’d led before; it was a smoking ruin in the middle of the Maine coastline. Getting as far away as possible sounded like a very inviting prospect, and she couldn’t deny that Seattle was certainly very far away. On the other hand, she couldn’t help wanting to know more about the people whom providence had thrown her in with here.

It took her a moment to realise that the talk had stopped, and everyone was filing out of the room.

“Come on, Belle.” Ruby was standing by the door, waiting for her. “I’ll give you the tour.”

There wasn’t a lot to be seen on the tour, really. The place was a large converted barn, the main area housing the van and all the myriad zombie fighting equipment, and the rest of the building partitioned off into living space.

“You’ll be bunking with Astrid whilst you make your decision,” Ruby explained, showing her into a small room with two beds. One half of the room was a riot of pink and stuffed animals and twinkling fairy lights, and it made Belle smile to see it. Even though it wasn’t her style at all, it was good to see that there was fun and life and personality in the otherwise purely functional building.

All the same, Belle was still having trouble believing that all this was happening and that the zombie apocalypse was underway, much less that she was in the headquarters of the only people who cared about rescuing their fellow humans from said apocalypse, and indeed, she was having a bit of trouble believing that such people even existed in the first place.

“How did this place even come to be?” she asked, once they were back in the main living area. Neal and Emma were there too, and it was clear that they were together. It was nice to see love blooming in adversity.

“Well, you’d have to ask Gold what possessed him to start prepping for the zombie apocalypse. He’s the one who got it off the ground, well, him and Neal. Father-son zombie hunter team.”

“I honestly never thought I’d see the day when Dad’s zombie apocalypse obsession paid off,” Neal said, “but I’m very glad that it did.”

“Anyway,” Ruby continued, “he spent years slowly building up an arsenal and now we’re here today. Apart from Gold, Neal, and Emma, we all came here in the same way as you did – we sensibly called the helpline number and got ourselves rescued.”

“Oh.” It saddened Belle to think that so many of them had lost everything.

“It’s ok.” Ruby patted her shoulder as if she could tell what Belle was thinking. “It’s not all bleak. My granny got out with me; she’s in the safe zone now with Jeff’s daughter and Mulan’s uncle. Sometimes we manage to save quite a few households. There are scientists working in Seattle looking at the causes and triggers and identifying all the different strains of zombie-ism. We’re getting more informed and better at fighting them every day, and we’re all certain that there’s a cure out there somewhere.” She paused. “I know it feels wrong to be positive about it all, and you’re probably feeling about as far from positive as possible right now considering that your home just went up in smoke, but I promise that there is light at the end of the tunnel.”

Belle was very grateful for Ruby’s hug.

Two days later, Belle made the decision to stay.

She was in the control room when it happened. Gold had been telling her the next chapter in the tale of what made him start the response unit. He’d been happy to tell her when she had asked, but it was a long story, and he was having to give it in instalments in amongst all of his strategic planning and his many phone calls with the leaders of the other units around the country. They hadn’t even got to the part of the story which involved the ZORU branching out into different states yet.

Neal was at the monitoring desk this time, and everything had been nice and quiet until an alarm started going off on one of his screens.

“We’ve got a new cluster. Newport this time.”

Belle went over and peered over his shoulder at the scrolling lines of government and web chatter as Gold settled into the seat beside him and began typing. Everything was talking about a zombie outbreak in Newport. Belle didn’t want to think about how they had access to all this information, but she couldn’t deny that she was glad they did.

“Everyone stand by, we have a new active cluster.” Neal’s voice echoed through the PA system around the building and Belle heard running footsteps as the others raced to their stations. Neal left Gold in charge of the comms as he went to get ready himself.

“We won’t go out unless we get a call,” Gold explained as he continued to monitor the situation. “There’s no point in sending the team out into danger unless we know that there’s a possibility we can save someone.”

It was then that the bright red telephone on the desk began to ring with shrill urgency.

“Zombie Outbreak Response Unit for Storybrooke and environs, my name is Aiden, are you in immediate danger from zombies?”

Belle could only watch in stunned and fearful silence as Gold guided the caller through the same questions that Emma had asked her, at the same time despatching the team and pulling up all kinds of metrics on the computer. On one screen, she could see several camera shots from the van and the team’s body armour as they pounded down the roads towards Newport. Her heart was beating painfully in her mouth at the thought of the danger that they were willingly putting themselves in, and she could only imagine what it must be like for Gold, knowing that his son was going into the fray.

He glanced sideways at her. She had so much admiration for the way he could stay so calm on the phone with the caller, and she had a hugely newfound admiration for Emma, knowing that she had been in just the same nerve-wracking position whilst taking Belle’s own call and watching her boyfriend heading out to save her.

“Ok, we’re here, we can see the survivors.” Neal’s voice came over the internal comms and Gold acknowledged.

“Ok, if you look out of the window you should see the team,” he said to the caller. “Can you confirm to me that you can see them?” He listened to the muffled voice on the other end. “Ok, you’re in safe hands now, I’ll leave you with the team.”

The call ended and Gold could give his full attention to the control screens. Belle watched the camera footage with her hands over her mouth, eyes wide. There were more survivors this time, and Jeff and Ruby were shepherding them towards working vehicles whilst the others covered the exits. She screamed as David was caught by a pair of walkers, his camera going offline.

“David!” Gold was half in and half out of his seat, fingers clutching his cane with white knuckles. “David, report!”

“I’m ok!” David sounded winded, and then Emma saw him getting to his feet on Mary Margaret’s video feed as she ran to help him. “I’m ok, I took them out, but my camera’s shot.”

Gold sank back into his chair with a sigh of relief, but Belle couldn’t release the tension thrumming through her veins until everyone was safely back in the van and they were driving away from the town with the survivors in convoy. Once they were en route, she chanced to take another look at Gold. He was leaning back in his chair, looking satisfied with a job well done, but just as exhausted with fear as she felt.

“Do you get scared when they go out?” she asked.

“Every single time.” He paused. “It does help, having someone else here.”

Belle smiled, her heartrate finally beginning to return to normal, and Gold smiled back. There was something a little shy in the expression, and she had to wonder.

Once the survivors had been brought back to the base and undergone due process, it was decided that they would head straight out to the Seattle safe zone. Three households had been saved, too many people for them to house in the unit headquarters, and there was a general air of jubilation around the place that they had managed to rescue eight people in one go.

Jefferson, who was heading out to Seattle to see his daughter anyway, was going to act as an escort for the long drive, and he came over to Belle.

“If you want to go to Seattle, this is probably the best time to come,” he said.

Belle looked around at the rest of the group who were wishing the survivors well on their way. David and Mary Margaret, Emma and Neal, Mulan and Ruby. Astrid bouncing up and down and around.

And Gold, standing alone, a little apart from the rest, happy at having been able to help save lives and needing no gratitude for it. He caught her eye, tilting his head as if to question. Are you going?

Belle shook her head.

“Thank you, Jeff, but I think I’ll stick around. You’ll need someone to man the phones when Emma goes on maternity leave, after all.”

Jefferson gave her a hug.

“Stay safe,” he whispered to her. “And for what it’s worth, I reckon you’re definitely in with a chance there.”

They both looked over at Gold, who turned away with an embarrassed cough. Belle couldn’t help but laugh.

“Take care of them, Jeff,” she said. “And of yourself, of course. And say hi to Grace for me. Well, she has no idea who I am, so maybe not. You know what I mean.”

“Of course.” He bowed low before going to take his seat in the convoy of cars that would be heading out west. Everyone gathered to wave them off, and Belle found herself going over to Gold at the back of the group.

“So, you’re staying then?”

Belle nodded. “If you’ll have me.”

Gold smiled. “Absolutely. I’m certain that you’ll fit right in. Welcome to the Zombie Outbreak Response Unit, Belle.”

“I still can’t get used to the fact that it exists, let alone the fact that it’s needed.” Belle sighed. It was going to be a strange new life, but one in which, hopefully, she could make a difference to the world. And perhaps to one person in particular.

“I’m glad you’re staying,” Gold said. “I know we haven’t known each other all that long, but I would miss you if you were to leave.”

“I would miss you, too. After all, you still haven’t told me the rest of the unit’s history yet. I couldn’t miss that.”

Gold looked at the rest of the team gathered in the hangar. “We could always resume the tale now if you want. Get away from this lot of rabble rousers.”

Belle laughed at the description. Considering how few of them there were, they were making an inordinate amount of noise. She didn’t mind at all, and she knew that Gold didn’t either. In these times, every little victory ought to be celebrated, and this was more than a little victory.

Still, it would be nice to have some time with Gold without a crisis looming over their heads.

“I’d like that,” she said, and she took his arm when he offered it to her, leading her out of the hangar and into the main living area, settling on the sofa.

He didn’t begin to speak, and for a long time, they both just looked at each other. Belle worried her bottom lip between her teeth. Would it be too forward to just go for it? They’d only known each other for a couple of days, like Gold had said, but Belle knew that there was something there, and there had been something there from practically the first moment that they had spoken to each other properly, and Gold had begun to tell his tale.

She took the plunge, leaning in closer and feeling a huge inward sigh of relief when Gold did the same, meeting her halfway in a soft, tentative kiss.

Belle broke away, looking into his eyes, and on finding only encouragement there, she went back in for another kiss. Gold’s hands came up to cup her face, and she smiled against his mouth.

“I’m so glad that you didn’t go,” Gold breathed once they finally broke apart again. “Thank you for staying.”

Belle pecked her lips to his again. “I can’t think of anywhere else I’d rather be.”

Maybe it was a little too soon and they were moving a little too fast, but the times they were living in were dangerous, and they had to make the most of all the opportunities they had, just like all the causes for celebration. This was not a time for holding back. This was a time for living.

#rumbelle fic #rumbelle #Belle French #Mr Gold #apocalypse AU #AU-gust #Worry does AU-gust #Fic: The Zombie Outbreak Response Unit

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sullys-nose-hair · 2 years

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Jeffy weffy uwu boi x quirky reader @xxcha0t1c-racc00nxx @tinitortellini @oreosplease @nonotthebasement 🥺🥺🥺

Taking my Shrek picture out I slapped it on the wall and looked at it.

My little Jeffy Weffy is out killing so I could finally put up by Here pic, for how at least.

For some reason Jeff never really liked me even glancing at other men🥺🥺🥺🥺 but he just gets a little quirky sometimes like me🤪🤪🤪🤪🤪🤪🤪

God I'm so brockean and quirky, all the girls at my school make fun of me for being emo while all the guys wanted to put their badussy destroyers in my guak guak 2000.

They girls were all but jealous of my PERFECT personality and my BIG FAT ass that made bomb noises everytime I walked and my BIG breasts that made the guys kouths water and my skinny 0000000000.1 cm waist and flat stomach🥺

They was all just jealous of how PERFECT I am, Jeffy weffy was the only one that understood me😔

Even if he killed my parents I could care less. My sister, brother, mother, father, grandma, grandpa, bed, fish, dog, cat and my floor all abused my SEXY self anyway. They was just all jealous of me🥺🥺

But a jeffy weffy took them away which made me scream and shout out of sadness sbc even if they all abused me I loved them🥺🥺🥺

Moaning in my CUTE voice as I shifted on my place on the floor I gasped CUTELY AND FEMINENLIY voice we the door burst open, revealing Jeff in his full crusty Glory, crusty falling to the floor as he stood there towering over my 00000.1cm frame with his tall 100000000ft tall form that made my toes curl. I've always been sentive.

I had gotten to the point where I would cum a billion times when I were to take a shower, especially when I was cleaning my 15 fr look booty hairs. 🥺

Men always wanted to pull and pick the shit out of my booty hair but me being the PERFECT person I am rejected them🥺🥺 only I should do that.

That was until my Jeffy weffy came around, now only he can itch, touch, braid and pick the shit out of my 1000 ft long booty hair.

Glaring down at me HANDSOMELY AND SEXILY he SEXILY smirked down at my 000000.1 cm frame, laughing in his SEXY, DEEP, EASY BUT SMOOTH voice that had me cumming, my booty cheeks clapping together making that bomb sound go of as tears were brought to by my eyes from the overstimulation.

"Bebeh growl, what did I say about Shrek?"

CUTELY looking up at him I responded in my cute, perfect, feminie voice.

"N-n-n-n-n-n-n-n-not t-t-t-t-t-t-t-t-tto e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-even l-l-l-l-l-l-l-look a-a-a-a-a-a-at h-h-h-h-h-him" I CUTELY said in my submissive and breed able voice as he fmgrinnung down at me, the mile of grease and crusty below him getting bigger as he did so.

"Tha what I thoug bebeh growl, na get on dat bed" he handsomely replied, laughing with that sexy voice that made my toes curl and my legs shake as I came again, some if the cum getting in between my ass cheeks and getting my cute blonde booty hair wet.

"O-o-o-o-o-o-o-ok d-d-d-d-d-d-daddy j-j-j-j-j-j-j-j-jeffu w-w-w-w-w-w-weffy." I SEXILY said in my BEAUTIFUL submissive voice and made my way to the bed.

(This is ur guys bed btw)

Anyway cliffhanger🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺

#yall im so srry #creepypasta #creepypasta meme #homicidal liu #jeff the killer #creepypasta x reader #creepypasta thirst #eyeless jack #im a simp #laughing jack #obsesión

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tsarisfanfiction · 4 years

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Bedtime (Should Not Be 4am)

Fandom: Thunderbirds Rating: Gen Genre: Family Characters: Jeff Tracy, Scott Tracy, Gordon Tracy, John Tracy, Tracy brothers

Familiar Strangers: The first night home should be relaxing, but for Jeff it's anything but as he readjusts to being back on Earth, and five sons who've grown up without him. Spoilers for 3.25 "The Long Reach (Part 1)"

Jeff couldn't sleep. Gravity was heavy all over, a pressure his body hadn't felt the force of in far too long, and the light cotton of his clothes was a foreign sensation after so many years in his uniform. And that wasn't including his underlying fear that falling asleep here would mean waking up back there, in the wreckage of the Zero-X all alone, with the sinking knowledge that being back home was just a dream.

He threw off the covers and scrambled his way to his feet. There was no sense in lying awake with nothing but his thoughts for company – he'd had plenty of time to do that in the depths of the Oort Cloud. Tracy Island was its own quiet paradise in the middle of the ocean, and he didn't have to double and triple check his oxygen levels before leaving his airlock prison.

That didn't stop him reaching for the helmet by his bed out of habit, only realising what he was doing when his fingers met air where years of instinct told him should be the smooth shell of his gear. He sighed, a deep exhale followed by a shallow inhale. Adapting to life on Earth would be a lengthy process.

The door opened soundlessly and easily – no airlock to shift, just simple light wood separating his bedroom from the rest of the villa and he padded out equally quietly on bare feet. Snuffles sounded from the room next door, the noises his mother made in her sleep still familiar despite the long absence and he smiled as he passed. Tanusha's - Kayo's – room was on the end, just before the flight of stairs to his sons'. A new change; one of many, so many he had no idea how he was ever going to adapt to the life that had gone on without him. He remembered her as being quiet, but even through the door he could hear slow even breathing.

Carefully he made his way down the stairs, the exactly equal paces required for descent a marked change from clambering over a rugged planetoid, and passed his sons' rooms. Doors closed, they should all be asleep, exhausted after the mission of a lifetime. No matter how badly he wanted to see them again, he could wait until daylight. They didn't need him disturbing their sleep. Not now.

There was light in the den as he descended the stairs towards it. More of a glow than light, it came from the desk – his desk? Was it still his? The holoprojector was on, a blue background defining white text he couldn't read at that distance, and in the shadows it cast, something gestured and it changed.

Someone was still up. He could hear their breathing, slow but not quite steady, and the tap-tap-tap of fingers drumming on wood. As his eyes adjusted to the off-kilter lighting he could make out the sight of his eldest son hunched over the wood, one hand propping up his chin while the other tapped at the desk by a mug.

He checked the time. It was gone four in the morning. Scott was still in his day clothes, shirt rumpled and hair falling loose from its gelled confines to flop weakly over his forehead. He looked exhausted, even as his hand paused its tapping of the wood to swipe the hologram into the next page of text.

Jeff remembered the days of paperwork, one of the few things he hadn't missed during his time amongst the stars. The fact that Scott had taken it on was not a surprise – he had had far too much time to think about what his boys would do in his absence, and while many of his predictions appeared to have been falling flat, Scott was the eldest child and therefore officially his heir. The paperwork required to keep Tracy Industries afloat would have settled on his shoulders.

The time of night he had chosen to work on it, however, was. He'd thought Scott would follow his example – work during the day when not on rescues. There was no reason for him to stay up all night, and his parental instincts flared in a mix of worry and anger.

Scott knew the importance of a good nights' sleep, had had it drilled firmly into him as a child. Why was he ignoring everything he'd been told as a child about bedtimes? He was only going to hurt himself!

He stepped forwards, deliberate and determined to get his wayward son into bed where he belonged at this time of the night only to be brought up short by a hand landing on his shoulder from behind.

His nerves lit up, the warmth of the touch unexpected and unwelcome in the darkness when he hadn't known it was coming, and he whirled around sharply to see who was foolish enough to sneak up on him.

It was Gordon, his second youngest's hands raising up in a quiet surrender as he rounded on him, breathing heavily.

"Shh!" the blond hissed under his breath, sounding like a leaky air tank as he pressed a finger to his lips in an unmistakable demand for silence. He looked tired himself, hastily suppressing a yawn before bringing a glass up to his lips and sipping it quietly.

Jeff remembered his midnight kitchen trips from before. But then it was sweets, sugary menaces that would keep him bouncing off the walls for most of the following day before crashing mid-afternoon. Not a simple glass of water.

He gestured for him to go back up to bed, not wanting to deal with multiple sons up when none of them should be, and Gordon responded with a shrug and clear invitation for him to join him. Jeff signalled later before turning back to Scott, only for Gordon to shimmy around in front of him, arms crossed and shaking his head.

Leave him, he mouthed, barely visible in the pitch dark of the island. His lips were barely lit by the glow of the hologram Scott still perused on the desk, seemingly obvious to their presence. Jeff frowned, digging his heels in at the idea of leaving his eldest to an ill-advised all-nighter, but Gordon had inherited the Tracy stubbornness and his mother's cunning.

Jeff wasn't entirely sure what Gordon did to get him climbing back up the stairs, away from Scott, but that was where he found himself heading, Gordon behind him – between him and Scott, almost like a guard dog.

"You won't get him to stop," the blond teenager said – was he still a teenager, or had he reached twenty yet? Jeff had lost track of the years in a place beyond Earthly time. "Interrupting him now is like trying to wake Virgil up this early. Violence, arguments, and ultimately futile."

The idea that this was something common enough that Gordon knew what would happen did not sit well with Jeff.

"This happens a lot?" he asked, looking back at the stairs that led to his eldest. Gordon sighed before draining his glass.

"I don't remember the last time he slept in his bed," he admitted, and Jeff's heart sank. "There's just never enough time in a day, you know? Rescues, rescue reports for the GDF, being badgered by the GDF about anything they please, keeping Tracy Industries running."

"The GDF?" Jeff's voice came out strangled as he tried to think what the Global Defence Force would have to do with International Rescue. They were two independent organisations, the GDF had no jurisdiction over them! Unless… no. His sons wouldn't-

"They think Scott's too young," Gordon said, sitting back on his bed and staring at the ceiling. "He won the battle to keep us independent, but it came with compromises."

Jeff thought back to how he remembered Scott, leaving him with a reassurance that he'd be home soon and that it was a simple mission – he didn't need the backup just to stop the Zero-X. Then he remembered the wrist he'd clasped as he stopped him falling to his death, the face that had looked up at him then.

Too young? Maybe the Scott he'd left behind that day had been. But the one he'd reunited with less than an Earth-day ago was too old.

"He'll pa- uh, fall asleep soon," Gordon continued, jumping back to their original topic of conversation. "His favourite blanket is kept tucked under the yellow couch." He said that as though it was supposed to mean something. Jeff nodded awkwardly, feeling the gap between them yawn into a chasm. He didn't know this young man in front of him. Not really.

Gordon looked at him after a moment, a why are you still here look in his eyes – one Jeff recognised from the mirror, not because he'd ever seen Gordon wear it with such gravitas before – before he flinched and sighed.

"Oh yeah, you don't know," he said, and Jeff got the feeling he wasn't the only one facing someone who should be familiar but wasn't quite as expected. "Scott won't go to bed. He sleeps at the desk. Whoever finds him first throws the blanket over him. Unless it's Virgil. Virgil can at least carry him to the couch. He's too tall and heavy for me and Alan."

Jeff had expected some things to have changed while he was gone. It was only natural, after all. But this change he would need them to explain, in detail, why they let it happen.

A conversation for the daylight. For now, he had a son to leave to sleep, and another son to handle. Gordon made it sound like he was as volatile as uranium, but Gordon was prone to over-exaggeration… unless that was another trait he had dropped or changed. He reached out to brush Gordon's hair back, the urge to kiss his son goodnight overwhelming even though dawn was approaching, and Gordon made a small, blessedly familiar noise of protest and quiet squirm before muttering "night, Dad."

It was good to know not everything had changed.

Jeff closed the door quietly behind him, the quiet click of the catch engaging a contrast to the clunk of the airlock door, and he forced himself not to shut it again just to ensure it was truly closed. Gordon's window had been ajar anyway.

One erstwhile son dealt with, although it felt uncomfortably like he'd done nothing at all and Gordon had been the one doing the handling, one to go.

He padded back down the stairs, just as quietly as the previous time and just as jarred by the artificial evenness of each foothold, to find that Gordon had been right. Where before Scott had been hunched over the desk, fingers tapping agitatedly, now he was slumped over it, head at an uncomfortable looking angle over the hard wood and looking more like he'd fainted than fallen asleep.

Then again, Gordon had started to say pa-, which Jeff could now easily finish as pass out.

"Oh, Scotty," he breathed, falling into the childhood nickname without thinking as he quietly approached. The holoprojector was still on, showing rows and rows of figures – annual turnover, Jeff recognised – and under its bluish tinge Scott looked grey and washed out. The mug beside one of his hands was still half-full, a long-missed scent of strong coffee wafting out of it but unaccompanied by any steam. Despite himself, Jeff buried his nose in his arm. Packet coffee from the Zero-X's rations had been nothing like the real thing and the smell was overpowering despite its welcoming nature.

He turned the holoprojector off, both because it was unrequired and because he didn't care for the light it was casting his eldest son in – Jeff had had many nightmares about his sons with a sickly dying pallor and seeing it even as an illusion caused by lighting made his heartbeat accelerate. Now the only light came from the stars and crescent moon, shining through the glass wall of the house. It bathed Scott in silver, and did little to improve his appearance.

Gordon and Alan threw a blanket over him. Virgil carried him to a couch. John hadn't been mentioned, but Jeff had already suspected his second eldest spent more time than he should in orbit. Like father, like son, for all that he wished his love of space hadn't been inherited in such a self-destructive fashion.

Jeff wasn't quite as tall as Scott now, or as broad as Virgil, but he was a father and carrying sleeping sons to bed came as naturally as breathing. Scott always was – had been – a light sleeper and he had no cause to suspect that had changed, so he was as gentle as his weakened body could manage as he oh so carefully shifted his eldest son into his arms and started the journey up the stairs, counting them carefully and realising he didn't recall exactly how many there were as his carefully questing foot met resistance one time more than he'd expected.

Scott shifted in his arms, a sign that his shallow sleep was losing its hold on him, but Jeff didn't let himself hurry as he continued his journey, nudging Scott's door open with a toe and frowning at the neatly-made bed that clearly hadn't seen any occupancy in far too long. The sheets were cool to the touch as Jeff set Scott down on them, and his frown deepened as Scott shifted some more, his subconsciousness aware that something was happening.

He hadn't dealt with shoe laces in forever, the texture of thin cord rough against his hands, but muscle memory prevailed as he unknotted them – Scott still tied his laces the exact same way Jeff remembered, and he let himself enjoy the unchanged moments as he found them – and slipped them off his feet.

Easing the sheets out from underneath his barely sleeping son was a challenge, and his heart sank as he pulled them up to Scott's chin – the way he'd always had them as a child, taking comfort in being all bundled up even if he wouldn't admit it out loud – and caught sight of blue eyes blearily opening.

"Ssh-sh-sh," he hushed, barely audibly, one hand carding back the escapee hairs from Scott's rigid gelled style. It took several repeats of the motion before they slid back closed again, a quiet Dad? breathed from between slightly parted lips.

I'm here, Scotty, he wanted to say, but words would only wake his eldest child up so he kept them at the forefront of his mind instead. Go back to sleep. He risked the same goodnight kiss as he had with Gordon, and received little more than an unintelligible murmur in response.

To his relief, it didn't take more than a few seconds more before Scott was fast asleep again, and as with Gordon he gently padded out of the room and shut the door gently, hearing the click instead of the clang as the catch caught. This time the desire to try again until it sealed didn't rear its head – his desire for Scott to sleep improbably overriding survival instincts.

With two sons out of bed and since settled back into them, Jeff couldn't rest until he knew the other three were tucked in and sleeping soundly. John's room was next to Scott's, he thought until he nudged it open – aware that his ginger son was the most likely one to be awake – and found a mess of a bedroom with a blond mop of hair on the rug in the middle.

When had Alan taken John's room?

And why was his teenage son – Alan was definitely still a teenager – sleeping on the rug instead of his bed? The bed in question was piled high with all sorts of paraphernalia not best for sleeping with, including a holoprojector blinking at him, declaring that it was in sleep mode and not turned off, as holoprojectors should be at four in the morning – more like four-thirty now, he realised.

Still, Alan was sleeping soundly, and moving him would require tidying his bed, which Jeff knew he was not up to in his adjusting-to-Earth state. He settled for readjusting the blanket the lanky boy had half thrown off at some point, running fingers through thick blond hair and finishing the ritual with another forehead kiss before quietly leaving again.

Next along was Virgil's room, unmistakable even only lit by the moonlight by the numerous paintings hung on it. Relieved at finding another thing still the same, he gently pushed the door open. Faint snores heard through the door turned into loud ones as the barrier was moved, and Jeff smiled at his middle child, sprawled out in the middle of his bed with blankets everywhere and snoring to his hearts' content. Recalling Gordon's warnings about waking him, and his own memories of a grumpy dark haired child declaring that school was at an ungodly hour of the morning and how the education system should have more sociable hours, Jeff resisted the urge to fix the mess of blankets and instead pressed a customary kiss to this son's head as well, rewarded by a brief pause in snores, before backing out of the room.

He skipped Gordon's room, the second-youngest already seen once this side of midnight, and went for what was once Alan's, closest to Jeff's own room one story up. If Alan had moved to John's room, between Scott and Virgil's, then by process of elimination John used Alan's room when he was down from orbit.

He was down from orbit now, but as Jeff had suspected, not sleeping. He was sat by the window, eye pressed to his telescope as he looked at the stars up above them.

"Circadian rhythm," John said before Jeff could say a word. He held his hands up in surrender, managing to find a smile on his lips for the first time since he'd found Scott working himself past exhaustion at the desk.

"They look different from down here," he said instead, crossing the room – empty, barely lived in – to stand by John's side and look up at the stars.

"They do," John agreed, breaking away from the telescope long enough to share a grin – an in-joke, one only recognised by those who spent more time in space than on Earth. "It's trained on her," he continued, sliding sideways and gesturing for Jeff to look through it himself. He took it, knowing which star John meant and drinking his fill of the beautiful sight his second-eldest son had named after the most important woman in both their lives. Lucille-20181325 shone as steadily as he remembered.

John wasn't the most tactile of his brothers, not by a long shot, but he didn't resist as Jeff wrapped a delicate arm around his shoulders and pulled him in for a one-armed embrace.

"She'd be proud of all of you," he said quietly. "As am I."

Circadian rhythm or not, he wouldn't let John miss out on – or escape, depending on the point of view – the same treatment his brothers had received, and gently kissed his forehead.

"For my next sleep?" John asked, smiling. He'd never been as dismissive of the affection as his brothers, for all of his desire for personal space.

"For your next sleep," Jeff confirmed, matching the smile with one of his own.

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds are go fanfiction #jeff tracy #gordon tracy #scott tracy #john tracy #virgil tracy #alan tracy #tsari writes fanfiction #familiar strangers #midnight conversations #thunderfluff

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starman-john-tracy · 4 years

Text

Radiation Poisoning | Chapter Three

by @starman-john-tracy and @asteria-star

In which John Tracy gets exposed to uranium and nearly dies, The Hood is evil, and Star generally freaks out a lot.

[Chapter One] [Chapter Two] [Chapter Four]

“Inter-national Rescue.” The Villain tilts his head, shiny in his spacesuit, and John gets the feeling that he’s being sized up, like a predator judging its prey, “Well well well, who’d have known there was another one of you, and up in space no less. I thought the little blond one was flying the rocket so you must be…” The man trails off and John seals his lips into a tight, white line. If the Hood doesn’t know about Thunderbird Five, then he’d far rather keep it that way. “You’re not a stray like my Tanusha though, are you? Could it be… another of Jeff’s boys?” Cat-like slit eyes narrow, scanning John up and down where he’s sprawled under his heel. One hand reaches down and closes around the front of the spaceman’s sash, dragging John upright, unsteady and disorientated as he’s reeled in to be examined.

“You don’t look quite as much like him as the others... but it’s there.” The Hood teeth glint in a smile like a shark, “Perhaps you take after your mother, hmm?” It’s a cruel thing to say to a man who’s lost both parents, one to an avalanche and one to the unknown. John’s shoulders go stiff with tension and the Hood’s smile grows wider, aware he’s hit a nerve. “Well then, let’s give those charming brothers of yours a rescue, shall we?”

“I won’t let you take the uranium.” John protests, but The Hood is slithering a hand up the side of John’s throat, lingering awfully over his vulnerable pulse point in a way that makes John shiver. “I… hey, what are you doing?” There’s a small spike of panic in his voice now, and he struggles against the vice grip the man’s got on his sash. The creeping fingers meet the seal of John’s helmet and John freezes, wide eyed, in the split second before as he realises what The Hood is about to do. “Wait don…!”

John breathes out hard, forcing the air from his lungs so that it won’t get a chance to expand inside him. He squeezes his eyes protectively shut as the wandering, probing, fingers slide under the thick rubber seal around his neck, breaching his helmet.

John thrashes in the man’s grip, his heart pounding, as the perfect nitrogen-oxygen of his tank begins rushing out and the vacuum starts rushing in. He coughs, soundless and awful, and he can feel his lungs starting to swell. The world begins to slide into blurred, flashes of impression and smeared colours. The hand shoved inside his helmet cups his cheek and rough, gloved fingers pat his skin lightly: a mockery of comfort.

“Lovely.” The Hood comments, though John hears him as if from the end of a long tunnel, busy as he is trying not to breathe out his lungs. “If only your blasted Father could see you now, hmm? No wonder they’ve been hiding you from me.” There’s almost a laugh. “You’re a clever boy,” The Hood acquiesces, “But I already have all the uranium I could possibly need.” He watches John struggle for a moment, with an unsettlingly pleased look on his face. “My associate is loading up our shuttle as we speak. What remains here is obviously damaged, and useless to me.” A heavy heel stamps down on one of the canisters, splitting John’s perfect welding clean open and splattering dangerous green across the metal floor.

“What a delight you are, Tracy.” He comments, as John’s struggles become weaker, “I am so glad to make the acquaintance of another of Jeff’s boy’s. Who’d have known I was one short, all this time?” He adds, and the hand slides away from his cheek, fingers curling instead under the hard metal edge of his helmet. John’s chokes, gasping, as the air from his tank rushes to try and compensate for the void inside his helmet. His cheeks are wet with tears. “It’s almost a shame that the number will be back down to four shortly.” And the Hood rips the helmet from his head, tossing the young man aside like a rag doll. John hits the rack of canisters, sending them scattering across the floor, and he cries out, breathless, at the impact. The radiation dial at his wrist is blood-red.

The Hood takes a step backward, then another, leaving John’s little room and making his way back to where he and his minion had blown their way in, with John’s helmet still clutched firmly in his hand. The astronaut reaches feebly after him, but the press of a panel slams a bulkhead down between them, the rip of wiring disabling its functionality as The Hood, as quickly as he’d appeared, vanishes from sight, discarding John’s helmet uselessly the other side of the door.

It doesn’t factor into The Hood’s estimations, but the Oxygen scrubbers onboard kick into overdrive now that the canister chamber has got a proper seal, whirring hard to try and drag out the vacuum inside and fill it sluggishly with a O2 mix. John presses his forehead hard against the metal floor and just tries to breathe, the thin air making his head spin, the radiation seeping into his pores.

***

Star’s running, gasping on the canned air from her suit so badly she’s almost sure it’s run out, and she’s just not noticed, that any second now she’s gonna stop breathing all together and never start again. Gravity’s back. She doesn’t know why or how, the only thing she can think of is someone else is on the station.

There’s a sound of voices- no, a voice, and it’s not John’s. She’s hearing through his radio, too close to her ear, making her shiver even though it’s not as cold anymore. There’s a bang, Star hears it in tinny reproduction the same time as it rattles through the floor beneath her feet.

“John?” Star calls again, low and quiet, just in case this other person can hear. She’s coming up on the wreckage they’d first come through, the little store room she’d left John to entertain himself in. With a sudden, sickly pounding in her chest, Star gets the feeling she’s about to meet the aforementioned ‘boss’.

She can hear the voice, hear footsteps, somewhere off to the side, just out of sight, like scrambling in the walls, but her curiosity was never given the opportunity to run away with her. She rounds the corner and sees the door that had been open blocked, and John’s helmet resting on her -which was arguably the wrong- side of the door.

Screw whoever else is there to hear, Star’s banging on the metal, yelling his name, between one breath and the next.

***

John shoves a palm down hard against the floor, trying to get some kind of purchase against the textured metal to push himself upright. He takes a long, ragged breath of too thin air and jumps as someone slams a fist down hard on the door that’s protecting him from the vacuum beyond. Green-blue eyes look up, startled to find, not The Hood, but the familiar, comforting face of Star on the other side, her hands pressed flat against the window, trying to get his attention. Without really thinking about it John raises a shaky hand in a dumb little wave.

“I’m… ok?” He manages, though without his helmet radio Star doesn’t have a chance of hearing him. “Ow.” The exclamation doesn’t seem to quite sum up the thick, awful burning that’s going on inside his ribcage, or how his head is pounding in time to his heart, his sinuses tight and his temples throbbing. There’s just not quite enough air in here, though it’s improving fast. The Hood hadn’t done anything too severe to him, but it had felt like touch and go for a moment there. John’s a little surprised to be alive, if he’s honest, though he doesn’t dwell on that for long. “The Hood…?” He tries to ask, though his mouth is so dry it doesn’t come out as much more than a whisper. He runs a trembling hand backward through mussed ginger hair. “I… oh...” He catches sight of the red flashing warning at his wrist, eyes widening.

That’s… that’s too much radiation. He draws in another ragged breath, thick with trepidation more than vacuum now. Oh hell. Right, ok John. You’ve gotta get out of here. Gotta move now.

There’s a struggle as John tries to climb unsteadily to his feet. He makes it the whole of three wobbly steps toward the door before his knees give out, unused to the gravity and the abuse and the eight or so greys of nuclear radiation that are eating away at his cells. He pitches forward, catching himself only barely against the door before he slides down, gasping, the other side of the glass to Star. The hand raises again, pressing against it, though it’s not clear how that helps him.

It doesn’t, really.

Somewhere on the space station, there’s a dull roar of engines: The Hood and his minion are making their escape.

Star taps on the glass, trying to get John’s eyes to focus on her instead of the big load of nothing he seemed to have drifted off into. She can’t hear him, but she saw the word okay formed by his lips, and for that she kind of wants to hit something. The word okay doesn’t deserve to even be in the same room as this situation, let alone to come from his lips. Blue-green eyes finally come to land on her, and Star holds up his helmet, so he can see.

“I’m going to open the door,” she tells him with big, rounded words, hoping he’ll be able to read them on her lips. “You have to put this on when I do.”

John knows there’s nothing worse than having a barrier, physical or otherwise, between you and a person in need of rescue. All the more so when it’s a person you care about. He offers Star a shaky smile, in some vague attempt to be reassuring, but it comes out more pained than anything, so he’s not sure it does a very good job. His head tips back, exhausted, and his fingers slide down the glass to rest, limply in his lap.

“Mmm…?” He tries to process what Star is telling him. She’s going to… open the door? That’s good… that’s… oh, his helmet. He’s gonna need his helmet...

Slithering tendrils of claustrophobia are curling in the spaceman’s chest. John’s aware, on a logical, sensible level, that there’s no way the walls could be closing in on him, but the space just seems to be getting smaller and smaller and there’s nowhere to go. The air smells metallic, ancient and recycled. It hits him like the scent of old blood.

The ship is determined to trip Star up, a loose piece of panelling catching the heel of her boot when she goes to take a step back, leaving her stumbling back a handful of uneven steps until she can see the door in its entirety. The control panel is gone, that much she can tell, not that she thought she’d have been able to do much with that anyway. A spaceship was a little more hightech than her usual target for robbery. Manual release. There has to be a manual release of some kind; all kinds of bad things happen when there isn’t… she hopes radioactive locker isn’t the one situation where a backup isn’t top priority.

Breathing is getting harder. His airways feel acidic. John huffs out an exhale, short with the need to suck air in again, to get good Oxygen circulating in his irradiated blood cells. His exposed face and neck and even his scalp have begun to feel hot and raw, like the beginnings of a bad sunburn.

Star sees it, a heavy looking crank nearly hidden by debris. But it's there. John seems to be drifting again, and Star feels a little guilty banging on the wall by his head to get his attention.

John looks up weakly at the sound, his head loose and wobbly, blinking lots as he tries his best to focus on her, trying to understand the plan. The radiation detector bleeps urgently at his wrist, the readings a deadly, terrifying crimson. He doesn’t seem to notice though, he’s preoccupied with trying to support himself, ready for the door to fall away.

“I’m opening it,” she mouths to him, holding up ten fingers in what she hopes he understands is a countdown. She can’t do anything else to help him but get the door open, so she does.

John exhales heavily, pushing the air forcefully from his abused lungs in preparation for another rough exposure to vacuum. He nods once, short and sharp.

Do it.

The door opens, not all the way, just enough for John to fall limply through in his defence, it does look like he’s trying to help, but in the end it’s Star scrambling over, hooking her hands under his arms to drag him back into the main room, easing the helmet back onto his head and sealing it a little too roughly. And then she’s gone.

Star almost doesn’t want to close the door behind them, purely to never have to be out of arm’s reach of John again.

The door clangs shut, rattling the entire crumbling ship, separating them from the toxic waste within. Star can’t help but notice the twitch towards orange her radiation sensor makes when she slides to her knees beside John. Not that it matters, she’s not going anywhere.

She’s got the spaceman up against her chest, hoping being closer to upright might help the painful gasping he’s got going on, arms wrapped around his narrow chest, back of his head resting against her shoulder. She can see her hands, clasped around in front of him, see them shaking, but she almost can’t feel them through the lightning terror racing through her body.

“I’m so sorry,” She sobs, helmet pressed to John’s in an attempt to rest her forehead on his tangled hair, rocking the two of them somewhat neurotically, the entire world tunnelling down to them and them alone. Then she catches herself. “John, are you okay? Talk to me, are you alright tell me what… tell me what to do out here. What can I do?”

John crumples against her as the door between them suddenly vanishes, little hands under his arm pits dragging him out across the floor. He’s vaguely aware of his helmet being shoved on over his head and the click as it’s clipped into place but the fresh bloom of oxygen that hits his system is what he really feels, the impact like the first breath of a man whose been deep sea diving, who desperately needs to come up for air. Star’s gone, but then she’s back again in what feels like less than a heartbeat.

There’s a whirling twist in elevation as John gets propped upright, his head lolling weakly against Star’s collarbone and the borosilicate glass of his helmet rapping against hers as she holds him to her. There’s a small sob across the radio in his ear, closely followed by another, then another. John’s head is pounding and John squeezes his eyes shut, his mouth a tight white line as nausea curls unpleasantly in his stomach.

“The uranium?” He manages after a long moment, his stupid priorities still firmly on the safety of the rolling blue marble far, far below them, despite the fact his cells have been perhaps irreparably irradiated, “The Hood…” His voice is thinner and weaker than Star’s ever heard it, and he makes a limp, heavy weight across her knees and up against her chest, evidently with no power of his own to do anything about it. “Five?” He suggests, dragging in a ragged gasp of a breath, “H-Home?”

Star starts laughing. She can’t help it, an almost hysterical bark that trails off into the words, “Don’t worry about your stupid uranium. I beat up his evil henchman and took it off his shuttle. It didn’t sound like they went looking for it.”

The Hood… So that’s who the voice belonged to. The big and scary ‘boss’. She’s going to kill him.

The dark room is blurring around them when Star looks up, unable to wipe the hot residue of tears from her eyes. The way they’d come is still sitting there, waiting ominously to spit them out into the great unknown, and Star still has John’s extra grapple packs strapped to her chest.

Thunderbird Five. She can do that.

“Okay, John, I need you up.” She really would rather not make him do anything, but even with John’s bony frame, their size difference is just too big to go dragging him around without a little of his help “Just a little minute, then we’ll be back in your favourite zero G.”

Star feels worse than the Hood, forcing him to move. His face is already grey and twisted the way it always is on those first few days back in gravity, when it takes most of John’s dwindling energy to keep his stomach firmly where it belongs. There isn’t another choice, though, and she knows it. John needs to be in decontamination, then he needs o2, then he needs Virgil, then he needs- Star runs it all off through her head, gently rubbing John’s chest in apology and forcing him to move.

Star’s laughing and the sound of it, tinny and crackly in his ear, blooms a warmth in John’s chest that has nothing to do with the radiation damage there. He smiles back at her, a bit loopy, finding her joy or relief or whatever this is that’s making her smile completely infectious. A blue-clad hand bumps uselessly against her helmet as if he meant to wipe her cheeks for her, but he forgot the three-inch thick glass separating them. Somehow, it’s almost worse than the bulkhead door.

She tells him how she hid the uranium from the madman and John’s mouth shapes a warm little;

“Oh,” though the word barely makes it out. He presses his reddened face in toward her shoulder with a soft groan, unable, for the moment, to vocalise just how relieved and grateful and proud he is of her. John can’t help how lethargic and heavy he is, his fingers slack and curling by his sides. He manages to bump his thumb, just a little against one of her knees in an attempt to convey some of the feelings to her.

“I… Ah!” There’s a short, sharp noise of pain from the spaceman as Star struggles to get him upright. He’s so damn heavy, sprawling and useless in the endeavour. There’s no chance of him piloting the Exosuit back to Five under his own power. Not like this. He’s all knees and elbows and his balance is atrocious, his head swimming with vertigo and his legs weak beneath him. “M… so tired…” He tries to get his feet as solidly on the floor as he can, tries to clamp down on the rolling nausea in his stomach, but he’s fighting a losing battle. “S-Star!” He gasps, fingers curling and desperate, “W-wait, wait, jus’ a… second. Let me… nngh...”

John squeezes his dry eyes tightly shut and tries to breathe heavily through his nose. One solid mantra becomes the only thing going through his head:

Don’t throw up in your helmet. Don’t throw up in your helmet. Don’t throw up in your...

The air feels sharp and prickly in John’s abused lungs. He’s unaware, as of yet, of the damage the radiation has done to him, but he finds himself curling an arm protectively around his midriff almost on instinct. A sharp, piercing sensation has started in his side, around his stomach.

John takes another long, deep breath, the edges of it ragged and shaky over the Comms.

Star has decided she is the worst person alive -on and off earth- when she has to haul John upright. He goes grey and moans low in his throat and begs her to let him stop for a moment, and she just… Star just braces him against her side, arms around him, and takes as much of his weight as she possibly can.

“It’s alright, baby,” she tells him softly, wanting to stay quiet but unable to keep her motormouth from getting away with her a little. “You’re gonna be fine, I’ve got you, just keep breathing, don’t worry about anything else.”

She wants to stop. She doesn’t want to move him, to go out into the void keeping them from the relative safety of Thunderbird 5 but… she can’t help him there. She can’t even let him take his helmet off.

“Five.” He agrees again breathlessly, trying to pull himself out of it. “I’ll… do what I… can…” Time isn’t on his side here, and he’s becoming increasingly aware of it. He can hardly just give up and leave Star trapped out here alone, after all.

“You don’t need to do anything,” she assures him. “Once we get back to the hole in the wall, I’ve got it.”

“My… brothers?” Their Comm system should be able to reach Tracy Island from any position in Low Earth Orbit. John can’t concentrate long enough to find his own wrist right now though. Instead, unreliable feet take a half-step toward the vicious maw, and the blank, open expanse of space beyond it. The stars out there don’t twinkle like they do down on Earth. There’re no layers of atmosphere out here for the light to scintillate through.

Five is a tiny dot out there somewhere amongst them.

She seems impossibly far away.

“Comms haven’t been working since we got here, John, not anything long distance,” Star murmurs, starting towards the way out. “Didn’t work trying to call in, and didn’t work when I just tried to call EOS… but I’ll get them for you. I’ll get you your brothers.”

Star is right about one thing, John is significantly easier to manage once they get to zero G. Aside from the terror of slipping, which Star doesn’t let herself acknowledge, getting to Thunderbird Five is almost no trouble at all.

#RadiationRPwithStar #<3333333333

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ohtheseboysilove · 5 years

Text

Timid little creature [Ben Hardy x F!Reader]

Words : 3, 000 K +

Warnings : smuuuuuut (reader’s on the pill)

Summary : Reader is very shy and need a little push to try new things in bed.

Note : I just hit 400 followers so I thought a littler smut with our Benny boy could be a nice thank to you my cuties !! love writing about shy!reader, I used to be very timid so it’s easy to do it ! Maybe I will write more about it, we will see ! Hope u enjoy this one love :)))) And thanks again for ur comments, likes, reblogs and messages, love u 🥰✨✨✨

🌼Requests are open🌼☀ Masterlist ☀

@/none of these gifs are mine xx

You hummed happily as you jumped out of the bus, walking toward Ben’s flat. You and him were seeing each other for the last four months and every thing was more than fine with the blonde, he was funny, smart, kind and incredibly handsome. His blond curls and greenish eyes made you head dizzy the first time you saw him, his well defined abs were just the cherry on the top.

It wasn’t rare that you slept at his place on the thursday night as it always the day where you finished your shift late in the evening and his place was way closer than your own flat. You knew he had some mates around tonight but he told you to come anyway, you used the copy of the keys he gave you to entered in the building then in his flat. The sound of the t.v was blasting as the boys were apparently playing video games, you scrunched your nose at the thick smell of cigarette, pizza and sweat, a typical boyish evening. You gently patted Frankie’s head and took your shoes off quietly, you were a bit shy, okay maybe super shy and you didn’t know all of Ben’s friends so if you could avoid to meet them with your work look, it would be better.

“Come on Ben, you pussy ! That the third time in a row you lose !”

“Fuck off Jeff, you’re a cheating bastard !”

You giggled quietly at your boyfriend’s voice, he took the video games very seriously, you could picture his red face, frowning like a grumpy baby.

“You lost, you know the deal Benny Boy. A shot and a bed question”

You stopped in your track, curious to hear about the rest of the conversation. You stayed in the hallway, still hiding from Ben and his friends, waiting for the bed question, you cheeks flushing a bit. The blond groaned and gagged a bit, probably because he took his shot.

“Go on, what do you want to know ?”

“Alright, (Y/N)’s hot”

You cheeks burned at his comment.

“I knew you were checking my girl last time, you better stop that” Ben warned him but you heard the amusement in his voice.

“I was about say that I bet (Y/N) is loud in bed, the shyer are the most savage in bed”

You bit the inside of your cheek, chuckling awkwardly. Thanks god no one seemed to know you were here or you would have been so embarrassed. You were rather timid and private person. Chatting about your sex life with Ben’s friends was the last thing you wanted.

“Well...she’s not really...vocal” It was true, you were a bit ashamed of the sound of your moaning so most of the time you stayed quiet. “I mean she’s shy, really shy, even with me ya know ? I wish she would be more comfortable around me, especially in bed” His friends let wolf-whistles echoing in the room and you gulped quietly, you didn’t know Ben was bothered with your timidness.

“Aw Benny, come on are you saying she’s boring in bed ? It would such a waste, she’s a gorgeous girl” Your breath hitched in your throat as you waiting for Ben’s answer. He stayed silent and you felt like a tone of brick just fell in your stomach. Did Ben just confirmed he found boring sexually speaking ?

“I didn’t say she was boring !” You pinched your lips furiously, the embarrassment rushing over you. You and Ben had sex for the last three months and you didn’t even notice he wasn’t having fun like you did. You felt incredibly stupid. “She’s just...fuck, I sound like a real asshole, she is an incredible girl and I like her, a lot but in bed...she’s even shyer” You were sure you face was crimson by now. “We don’t do anything...exciting. Always the same kind of boring position, last time I tried the doggy style but she was so tense, we ended doing the missionary like every time. I don’t want her to be uncomfortable, that definitely not the point of having sex”

They kept talking but you weren’t listening anymore, too embarrassed to focus on something else than Ben’s words. Boring. The worst part ? He was right, you never did something new in bed and until now you never thought about it. You needed some time to get comfortable and trying new sex positions was a bit out of your comfort zone. You put your shoes back on and grabbed your bag before silently leaving his flat, you were too ashamed to face Ben tonight. You quickly texted him saying that one of co-worker offered you a ride home, promising to see him soon.

*****************************************

The two following weeks you couldn’t bring yourself to have sex with Ben. Your self-esteem was too low to even took your top off in front of him. Of course you wanted to sleep with him but knowing now that you weren’t an interesting lay made you even more timid than usual and the blond quickly noticed your weird behaviour. He knew you were a sensitive girl so he didn’t push to talk about whatever was bothering you but tonight he had enough, he was feeling a bit put aside as you didn’t tell him what was wrong.

His hand was slowly rubbing your thigh as you were currently watching the t.v in the sofa, he glanced at you but you didn’t react, you eyes glued on the screen. He tilted his head and let a trail of light kisses on your exposed shoulder, biting gently the thin skin. You sighed quietly at the nice feeling and didn’t push him away when he moved to your mouth for a hot steamy kiss. Soon you ended up laying on the sofa under his broad body, your hands lost in his hairs as you were in intense making-out session. You moaned lowly when his hand brushed on your clothed nipples, your hips bucking involuntary into his.

“Should we move to the bed room ?” The husky voice of Ben gave a shiver as he warm hand palmed cheekily your breasts, his hard bulged throbbing against your thigh. “Want you so bad, love”

You froze as his fingers found the zip of your jeans, immediately pushing him away. You sat and cleared your throat awkwardly, giving him a small smile as he looked at you questioningly.

“I...I’m feeling a bit tired I think I’m gonna go to bed”

“Okay, what’s wrong (Y/N) ?” You pretended to be confused and he shook his head. “I know something wrong for days now, I thought you would talk to me at a point but you still hiding in your shell” You blushed furiously and stared at your fidgeting fingers. “Hey, it’s me, you can talk to me you know that, right ?”

His voice as soft as he gently caressed your burning face, turning your head toward him. You didn’t were it was coming from but you were a bit frustrated about his words.

“Coming from someone who complain about our boring sex life to your friends, it’s pretty amusing” His eyes widened at your sudden burst of confidence.

“How–“

“I was in your flat the other day and I heard the conversation” You shrugged and gave him a little smile, pretending you weren’t hurt.

“Oh love, shit, I...I shouldn’t have say that, fuck I’m so stupid” He sighed deeply, running a hand in his messy hairs. “I didn’t...it wasn’t– I’m sorry...“

“I’m not mad Ben, you are right, I...always stay in my comfort zone, it’s hard for me to try new thing” He nodded quickly, relieved that you finally opened to him. “Even if I want, I just...I always think about the worst things, like you wouldn’t like that or I would embarrassing myself because I’m very clumsy and– I overthinking everything”

You lowered your gaze under Ben’s intense staring and melted against his warm touch on your even warmer cheek.

“(Y/N), I know how you’re feeling, I was timid too when I was younger and I’m still not the most comfortable in public but that my job so I’m sued to now but I really like you, ya know ?” He brushed a sweet kiss on your swollen lips and felt your heart puffed at his words. “But I want you to be comfortable around me, I would never judge you, about anything. You can talk to me about everything (Y/N), anytime”

You nodded timidly and he smiled softly.

“I just wished you would have talk to me rather than chatting to your friends, it was...embarrassing to hear.” You murmured.

“I know and I’m sorry. It won’t happen again” His voice was confident and you smiled back, your finger tracing random patterns on his hand. “I just...I didn’t wanted to push your limits, I was planning on waiting a little bit longer before talking about it but you’re totally right, my comportment was stupid and disrespectful to you”

“Thank you Ben” You replied. You tucked a strand of hairs and blinked nervously. “I...you know, I do want to try other things with you, I’m just...not sure what to do ? You’re so much more experienced than me and I don’t want to ruin what we have with my hesitation...”

“Hey, ‘s alright love. It’s just me, no need to feel nervous” He pressed a delicate kiss on your jaw and you couldn’t repress a shiver. Your fingers softly grazed on his neck, bringing his mouth on yours for a soft yet long kiss. “We don’t have to do anything right now (Y/N)” He murmured weakly as your tongue teased his lower lip, your hands tugging at his soft hairs.

“I want to” You said in a low tone, heart beating heavily against your ribcage. There won’t be the perfect moment for to finally pass over your shyness so why no try right now ?

Ben grinned and followed you to his room, hands tangled together. You both fell on the bed, hot kisses exchanged, his shirt and pants flying somewhere in the room as well as you tight jeans and he quickly ended up between your thigh, eating you out like a starving man, earning muffling moans from throat. He made sure you were wet enough before stopping and looking adoringly at you.

“Do you think being in charge would make you less nervous ? You decided what we do and at your rhythm” He gently rubbed your clothed back as you nodded timidly, not capable to keep eyes contact with him, your shy nature never far away.

“What...what I’m supposed to do ?” You asked with a low voice, he or every men you frequented were always in charge and you didn’t have to ask this kind of question to yourself.

Ben chuckled gently and pushed away the locks in your face. “What do you want to do, love ? Just...whatever you feel like doing, don’t put too much pressure on your yourself, kay ?”

A small smile curled on your features and swallowed tightly, thinking about what to do next. Ben patiently looked at you, his beautiful green eyes dilated with lust, his swollen lip trapped between his teeth, you could have cry of how pretty he was.

“Can...can I ride you ?” You blurted suddenly, a spasm of boldness rolling through your system. You already saw scenes in movie where girls were ridding their lover and you thought that was super hot but once again, too shy to propose the idea or afraid that Ben would laugh at you.

“’f course you can” His voice was huskier than usual and the effect on your words on him was more than visible, his breathing increasing immediately. “’s super hot”

You giggled shyly and kicked out your panties before hesitantly straddled his thighs, pressing your hands on his bare chest to keep your balance. He happily let you be in charge, an encouraging smile on his round face. Your bare core was right behind his covered throbbing bulge, both of you panting at the slight brushing.

You cleared your throat and shakily unbuttoned your shirt like if you were a shy virgin, Ben, feeling your hesitation and nervousness, sat back, lowering a bit your body to reach your hot neck, kissing it teasingly. You sighed as his teeth sunk in your skin, making you shivered but not enough to hurt you.

“Smell divinely good, love” You threw your useless shirt somewhere in the room and focused back on the beautiful man in front of you. His hard cock was pulsating painfully against you, still restricted by his underwear and lightly tugged on it, asking for the permission to take it off. “Please” He cried when you hand hovered over it, brushing it in a teasing way you that he didn’t know you had in you.

“Lay down Benny” You whispered as you gently pushed him to the bed before taking you bra off, exposing your bare breasts to a marvelled Ben. He licked vigourisly his lips and caressed slowly your hard nipples.

“They’re even prettier from this view” He hummed appreciably and you blushed even harder.

You finally tugged down his underpants, freeing his aching member, already dripping from pre-cum. He whined at the gesture, his beautiful features twisted in a mix of relief and pain. You started to stroke him, gently and slowly, savouring every little noises coming from his plumpy lips with burning cheeks. You already gave him handjob and blowjob, of course, but usually you were on you knees, at his mercy. This time you had the power and it felt great.

“Love, if you– oh fuck, I’m going to come really soon if you keep doing that” He managed to say. You admired how some of his hairs was stuck with the light coat of sweat on his forehead and one of his arms bended behind his head, showing his strong biceps tattooed, he was truly gorgeous.

You bowed and pressed a kiss on the little blue vein popping up on his muscle then slid your hands on his torso to slowly raise yourself. Your finger, trembling a bit, from excitation and nervousness, grabbed softly his hard length and lined it with your enter, giving a last glance at Ben before slowly sunk down on him. Your head fell back as his shaft stretched deliciously your walls, your mouth opened in a perfect O shape.

“Holy shit, love, feel so good” The blond breathed as his eyes devoured every inches of you, his two large palms found their way to your waist.

After few seconds you gave an experimental rolling of your hips and the pure ecstasy on Ben’s face could have made you come here and right now. So you quickened your pace, lifting your body a bit before slamming back on the blonde, your eyes closed and mind lost in pleasure.

“Ben” You cried as the pressure in your lower abdomen increased heavily at every movements. Your lip roughly trapped between your teeth to muffle your moaning but when the blond hit a particularly sensitive spot you can’t contained the loud groaning coming from the back of your throat.

You immediately opened your eyes, crimson with embarrass and Ben stared at you with so much intensity, you slowed your movement, already sure that you were ridiculous and broke the atmosphere.

“I’m sorry...I–“

“What you’re sorry for sweetheart ?” Ben cocked his head and squeezed your hips. “That was bloody hot, please I want to hear you more, love” You hid your face in your hands but the blond immediately pushed them away, kissing each of your palm. “I’m serious, you can’t imagine how it’s turning me on to hear you moan, so fucking hot”

You swallowed nervously but the look on his face gave you enough confidence to keep going. You moved again, adding two fingers between the both of you to rub your clit and left your mouth hung open as the noises of pleasure escaped freely.

“Yes, dove, just like that, sing for me” His hands glued around your hips helped you keeping the quick pace as you felt your orgasm coming closer. “So, so hot, my love ! Look at you, tits bouncing up and down, shit, you’re fucking perfect” His praising boosted you as you moaned louder, your walls clenching ferociously as your orgasm washed over you, eyes rolling in the back of your head.

“Shit Ben, that was...” You panted heavily as your movements became sloppier, most of them coming from Ben’s hips, bucking against you, chasing his own release. “Something else” You couldn't put words on it but you were grateful that for once your fought against your shyness, it was more than worth it.

“I know, love. Bloody amazing you were up here” In a last shaking movement, the blond cum inside you, swearing loudly and you couldn’t take your eyes of from him, looking incredibly pretty and aroused. You never saw him so panting and satisfied than right now. “I’m so proud of you, dove. Did you enjoy being on top ?”

“Yes” You murmured timidly the steamy and boldness moment was gone, you shyness was back but you knew you will certainly doing it again. “Very much”

“Me too” You slowly moved from him and cried at the sensation of emptiness, he grabbed your waist and put you close to him, breathing heavily. “Can you think next time we can do the doggy style ?” He asked with an amused smile, savouring the immediately timidity painting on your face, he loved making you blush.

You hid your face in his shoulder as you giggled childishly. You pressed a light kiss on his sweaty skin and nodded quietly, earning a massive smirk from your boyfriend.

“Can’t wait to see this pretty ass of yours sticking up in the air just for me” He slapped playfully your bare bottom and you gasped, surprised but amused.

You sighed deeply and nuzzled comfortably against Ben, drained out of all energy but very proud of yourself.

#ben hardy x reader #ben hardy #queen #masterlist #borhap

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gracie-bird · 4 years

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THE COUNTRY GIRL FILM REVIEW BY THE STATUESQUE:

May 17, 2020.

To kick off this review, I think it’s appropriate to paraphrase the legendary Dorian Corey: I don't tell you that Grace Kelly’s Oscar win for The Country Girl is one of the biggest injustices in Academy Awards history, but I don't have to tell you, because you know Grace Kelly’s Oscar win for The Country Girl is one of the biggest injustices in Academy Awards history.

Anyone who proactively keeps a pulse on the Oscars knows. The Academy’s decision to crown Kelly as its Best Actress of 1954 over Judy Garland is oft likened to an act of treason — and as is sometimes the case with competitive matchups in which a victor is selected based on subjective judgments of talent, Kelly’s performance has the unsavory destiny of being forever critiqued against a competitor deemed far superior. This was a mistake, the public has decided, and for that, Kelly’s work is essentially sentenced to an eternity of contrition-fueled hot takes.

One descriptor I’ve seen regarding Kelly’s triumph over Garland was that it was a surprise. I for one don’t think that it’s surprising at all — every facet of Kelly’s narrative in 1954 may very well still secure a statuette for an actor today. 1954 was as sterling a year as they come for Kelly: in addition to The Country Girl, she starred in four other releases (Dial M For Murder, Rear Window, The Bridges at Toko-Ri and Green Fire), all of which were either smash hits, positively received, or, at the very least, marginally profitable. Being a beautiful ingénue fresh off an Oscar nomination the year prior already provides for some upward momentum, and being a proven moneymaker with multiple box office hits under her belt is only added fuel to that fire.

In order to understand her Oscar win, one needn’t look any further beyond the roles that shaped Kelly’s image in the lead-up to The Country Girl:

In Mogambo, Kelly plays Linda Nordley, one half of an English couple who’re affluent and privileged enough such that they can afford to travel deep into the depths of Africa to check out some wild gorillas.

In Dial M For Murder, she plays the wealthy (and English) socialite Margot, whose vast fortune sustains her husband’s plush lifestyle. Margot is delicate, docile and breathless in the face of danger.

In The Bridges at Toko-Ri, she’s a perfectly coiffed, finely dressed military wife and mother of two, who, based on what I’ve seen in YouTube clips, presumably lives a life that is at least upper middle class.

And in Rear Window — perhaps the most incriminating of the bunch — Kelly plays socialite Lisa Fremont, whose perfection is scrutinized by Thelma Ritter and James Stewart before she even appears onscreen. Stewart’s Jeff can’t come to terms with marrying Lisa because she’s basically a gift from God, critiquing her as “too perfect, too talented, too beautiful, too sophisticated,” noting that she “belongs to that rarefied atmosphere of Park avenue, expensive restaurants and literary cocktail parties” and flat out bemoaning, “if she was only ordinary!“

All of this is integral in understanding how the public perceived Kelly prior to The Country Girl, and how much of a shock it must’ve been when a tuckered out Georgie Elgin popped up on the screen, dowdy in appearance and disgruntled in tone. “But where hath that majestic blonde goddess gone?” moviegoers must have wondered aloud to themselves. “What a transformation!”

Georgie is not the affluent, grotesquely perfect beauty we’ve known Kelly to be: instead, we see blonde hair frazzled and lit such that it appears brown, a tawdry looking apartment, a face without a stitch of makeup in sight, and a wardrobe fit for a mere mortal (a twin set — Kate Moss would sooner die!). In other words, Georgie is the supremely ordinary being Lisa Fremont could never be. For actresses in particular, rejecting one’s own beauty continues to be championed as a brave and bold move, and the idea of being “unrecognizable” remains a popular staple to many an Oscar campaign. It’s safe to say that the shocking sight of Kelly on screen looking anything less than perfect had an even larger magnitude back in 1954. And it raises the question of whether the Great Deglamourization of Grace Kelly created a false equivalence amongst voters to believe that the transformation they were witnessing equated to an excellent performance. As with the modern day fascination with transformative biopic performances, there is a layer of superficiality that hovers over this win. I’ve a hunch that while voters were obviously dazzled by the visual transformation itself, they may have also interpreted style as substance, grading her on a curve because she dared to flip her star image upside down.

In any case, I don’t believe this to be a bad performance. I find Kelly to be pretty watchable, and I can appreciate the go-for-broke commitment she brings to the role. She sinks into it with the sort of steadfast determination one might expect of any young actress who’s handed a plum, “baity” part that promises the perception of prestige. The bait itself is as predictable a package as it comes: transformation! A long suffering yet wholly supportive wife! Explosive fight scenes! Tears!

All in all, it’s quite evident that Kelly is too young and too inexperienced an actress to really do this complicated role justice. Only 25 when The Country Girl was released, the years of bitterness and strife that’ve incubated within Georgie simply don’t register on an authentic level, if at all, through Kelly. Her crying scenes feel just a little less tragic than they could be if played by someone with whom I’d be convinced had experienced the turbulence of life for a bit longer. Pointed lines like “you mean you can quit Frank” have an impact similar to when child actors perform — it’ll do, I suppose, but there’s an artificial air to the words being spoken because of how green the actors are. “You try to look like an old lady and you’re not,” said by Holden in the film, is about as inadvertently damning a critique as it can get.

On the matter of authenticity, the disparity between Kelly and Bing Crosby (aged 51) is night and day: one performance feels lived-in, and the other requires the suspension of disbelief. A slightly older actress would surely have infused Georgie with a gravitas and intrinsic pathos that is otherwise missing here. Kelly isn’t bad, but as far as I can read it, she isn’t very multi-dimensional either, and Georgie is anything but a simple character.

Ultimately, this was squarely in between excellent and bad for me. On a more skeptical day, I may knock off a star. But the role offers just enough dramatic spectacle — and Kelly is just fine enough — such that I find myself satisfied with it to a baseline. Oscar has seen worse Best Actress winners, and he has also rewarded countless other performances on the “fine enough” wavelength for which I believe this one sits. Had Kelly won in 1952 or 1953, history might’ve been kinder to this performance, seeing this more as an acceptable yet forgettable victor. In the case of 1954, it has the misfortune of defeating an actress and performance considered by many as unforgettable, and thus the legacies of both parties are forever afflicted.

-THE STATUESQUE.

Source: https://www.thestatuesque.net/blog/grace-kelly-in-the-country-girl.

#grace kelly #country girl #the statuesque #1954 #princess grace #oscar #georgie elgin #la angustia de vivir

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tracybirds · 4 years

Text

Continuing :D This is me just insisting on dragging out this whole mistaken love triangle thing.... Sorry Gordon.

This was inspired by the Day 13 prompt of Gift but uh... Fluffember is over :( But also oh well tagging @gumnut-logic bc late still counts :D

See previously: [1] | [2]

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Gordon is nineteen years old and living with Lady Penelope on his periphery has become almost normal. Sure, his breath still catches whenever their eyes met unexpectedly and he still trips over his words whenever she giggles in his general vicinity, but his vicious crush has been dampened somewhat by the presence of his older brother being so damn, selfishly happy around her. John’s even stopped protesting when Scott and Virgil tease him about his girlfriend and the family has absorbed Lady Penelope into the line-up as though she had always been there.

Between his time in Australia, and John and Penelope off living in England, he hardly sees her at any rate. The distance is just enough for him to forget the strength of his feelings as he plays the role of ‘just friends’ over the holonet.

But then they will come together again and Gordon has to begin again. This time, they’ve gathered for Gordon’s birthday. Gordon doesn’t see much more than a rush of blond hair and small arms grabbing at him as Alan shrieks happily at the sight of his brother. He’s quickly forgotten when John and Lady Penelope enter the room but Gordon just laughs from the floor. The memory of his older brothers always leaving, with never quite enough time to call, is still too fresh for him to begrudge Alan when he’s bowled over for the sake of a hug or be too upset at being abandoned just as quickly for someone else.

“How are you, Gordon?” asked Lady Penelope, leaning over him with a smile.

“Flat out,” he replied. He’s being honest, his suitcase is packed with assignments and his tablet full of readings to get through despite his birthday celebrations calling him away from his studies. He still appreciates the way her smile widens as she takes in his prone figure. “And yourself?”

“Vertical,” she said, reaching out to help him back up.

“You’re finally here!” said Alan, butting in without a second thought. “Come on, Dad got you a gift.”

“Alan, that was my surprise,” said Jeff in mild disapproval.

“Couldn’t wait Dad!” called Alan, as he tugged on Gordon’s arm. “Come and see, come and see!”

Alan raced ahead to the deck and gestured down at the wharf, waving his arm excitably.

“Oh wow, is that a jet ski?” said Gordon, leaning over the railing to get a better look.

“YES!” said Alan, jumping up and down beside him. “Can you try it out now, please?”

Gordon laughed and reached out to ruffle his brother’s hair before turning back to their dad.

“Is it really for me?” he asked, trying to keep the hopeful delight out of his voice.

“Sure is,” said Jeff with a grin. He fished the keys out of his pocket and placed them in Gordon’s hand. “Now, you must wear lifejackets when on this thing,” he said firmly, holding up a hand to stop the protests before they began. “I don’t care how good a swimmer you are Gordon, I see you or anyone else on there without lifejackets and I’ll give the whole thing to Brains to pull apart and use in his next project.”

“Sure thing, Dad.” said Gordon, rolling his eyes slightly even as he nodded. “Alan, want a ride?”

“You need to ask?!”

The two ran down to the wharf, filling the island air with shouts of laughter as they went. The loud revving of the engine drew family members from the villa, the breathless joy born of high velocity and water spray too infectious to ignore.

The shadows were lengthening and the sky was beginning to burn a brilliant orange when Gordon finally plucked up the courage to ask her.

“Hey, Lady P, do you want a go?”

“Hmm?” Lady Penelope lazily opened an eye and peered up at him. Her skin was infused with the golden light of the late afternoon and Gordon grinned at her, hopefully.

“On the jet ski?” he said. “You can drive if you like?”

“No, I prefer to let others drive,” she said, sitting up.

“Oh,” said Gordon. He turned away, trying to hide his disappointment.

“Gordon?” she called after him. “I just said I didn’t want to drive. Not that I didn’t want to try it out.”

“Oh!”

And that was how Gordon found himself seated, a powerful engine underneath him, Lady Penelope nestled behind him, and a racing pulse that had nothing to do with the impending adrenaline rush. He’s suddenly grateful his dad had insisted on lifejackets, the thick material forming a barrier between her arms and his flushed skin. Goosebumps break out where her bare thighs press against his. He’s certain everyone can see right through him with his burning ears, certain they can hear the thumping of his heart in his throat.

Steadying his breath, he revs the engine and they fly across the waves towards the sunset. She shrieks in his ear and grabs him closer, pressing into him agonisingly, and Gordon silently offers an apology to John.

He spins them sharply to the left and suddenly there’s water everywhere and they’re both laughing and yelling with excitement, not a care in the world.

He chanced a glimpse back at her as they made their way back to shore. In the burnished light of sunset, her hair glowed golden and the pink of her cheeks deepened further as she caught his gaze.

In any other circumstance, he might have thought she was blushing. He looked over at the family gathered on the wharf, the way John responded to her exhilarated wave with two thumbs up. Gordon didn’t miss the way he glanced at him with a barely contained look of amusement, and his heart sank.

They were just friends after all.

[Part 4]

#gordon tracy #penelope creighton-ward #john tracy #pen and ink #thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds #i am having far too much fun with this #sometimes i fic #fluffember 2019 #just a little late xDD #I have two more chapters planned that are directly inspired by fluffember prompts #plus some uh... companions ?#the plan is to write like nobody's business bc i'm not moving on with episodes until this is down #*done #bc THINGS ARE GONNA CHANGE #fic

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