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queen-of-writing-bad-things · 3 months

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Henry Danger Reader Insert | Captain Man x Reader: SEASON 1

Episode 1: The Danger Begins Pt.1

~Henry's House~

~Third Person PoV~

It was another typical day in Swellview. As usual, Henry Hart, Charlotte Page, and Jasper Dunlop were at Henry's house, trying to finish their homework. Henry and Charlotte sat on the sofa, focusing on the algebra questions in front of them, but Jasper quickly grabbed their attention as he stood with his PearPad and read the latest Swellview news.

"Hey, did you guys see what Captain Man did yesterday?" Jasper said excitedly, showing the device to Henry, who was now ignoring the math he was supposed to be doing in preparation for the upcoming math test.

"Can we focus on algebra?" Charlotte was exasperated. She had always been the smartest of the three friends and preferred to get her homework done quickly and correctly, unlike the two boys with her.

"There was a fire at a pet store, and Captain Man ran inside, right through the flames, and saved all the animals!" The curly-haired boy told the story to both of them.

"And he didn't even get hurt!" Henry looked over at Jasper.

"Captain Man never gets hurt. He's a beast," He replied, returning his focus to the website on his screen.

"Y'know, someday when you guys are cleaning my swimming pool 'cause you failed this algebra test, then flunked out of school, I hope you remember this moment, 'cause I will." Charlotte sassed them both, knowing that she would be prepared for the test, but the boys would have nothing but Captain Man's heroic actions in their brains.

Henry clicked on another advert and quickly skimmed over the advertised information.

"Hey, here's a cool job I could do," He slammed his shoe onto the coffee table in front of Charlotte, even though she was still trying to work out her sums.

"Foot model," Henry stated, which caused Charlotte to look up at her blond friend with a confused and weirded-out expression.

"You guys, could we go over the list for my birthday party?" Jasper interrupted them with an excited tone from his place at the kitchen bar.

"Sure." Henry gave him a friendly smile.

"No." Charlotte quickly shot down Jasper's request, looking up from her homework.

"No." This time, Henry changed his answer to match Charlotte's annoyed tone.

"But I invited 52 people, and nobody's texted back yet. What does that mean?" Jasper asked them with a confused voice.

"That people have been to your parties before?" Henry joked, looking at Jasper and recalling all of Jasper's disastrous parties he'd attended.

"Oh, come on, my parties aren't that bad." Jasper shrugged off Henry's comment, trying to defend himself, but Charlotte quickly jumped in.

"Christmas three years ago, 15 kids ended up in the hospital." The dark-haired girl said, remembering one of the worst ones.

"'Cause of your raw turkey." Henry chimed in.

"It was turkey sushi." Jasper tried to tell them, even though his actions couldn't logically be explained.

"A boy almost died." Charlotte reasoned exasperatedly, trying to get to Jasper and make him see why giving people raw turkey is bad.

"Almost!" Jasper quickly retorted, putting a chip in his mouth, thinking he'd won the argument.

"Okay!" Henry threw his arms in the air. "First person who helps me find an after-school job gets this bowl of pine cones." He picked up the large bowl and offered it to his friends, which caused Jasper to gasp in excitement.

"Wow. Why do you even need a job?" Charlotte asked with scepticism from the ridiculous offer of pine cones.

"Y'know, to learn responsibility, challenge myself..." Henry replied, listing all of his aspirational reasons, but Jasper was quick to interrupt him with the real reason why he was so desperate for a job.

"He wants money."

"I want money," the blond boy agreed, looking back at Charlotte, who was walking towards the kitchen.

"Money's good." She agreed.

"Can we please talk about my birthday?" Jasper brought up his party again, much to the annoyance of his female friend.

"Am I gonna have to slap a boy?" she sighed sarcastically, but there was also some truth in her voice. Jasper annoyed her sometimes. The curly-haired boy at the bar looked back at her with panic, but the comment made Henry smile down at his computer.

"Henry, can you please tell me how in the wor--" Kris Hart, Henry's mom started as she appeared from upstairs and walked down the stairs. When she looked across the room, it was only then she noticed her son's best friends were also in the living room.

"Oh, I didn't know Jasper and Charlotte were here." She smiled, looking cheerful with her laundry basket under her arm.

"We're studying." Jasper smiled back.

"Are we?" Charlotte retorted, knowing they hadn't done much actual work.

"Mom, we're right in the middle of something." Henry tried to get her to leave, not wanting to have his mom around his friends.

"I'm not interrupting." She said, plopping the laundry basket down on the coffee table.

"Okay, thanks."

"I just have a question about your underwear," Mrs Hart said, holding up a pair of blue underwear, which embarrassed Henry.

"Mom!" Henry exclaimed with a horrified voice, as his friends were now laughing at what his mother was holding.

"I'd like to hear the question." Charlotte teased, walking behind Henry and resting her hands on the couch.

"What is the issue with Henry's underwear?" Jasper joined in, smirking at Mrs Hart to make his oldest friend blush. He, too, was now resting his arms on the couch with Charlotte.

"Mom!" Piper, Henry's little sister burst through the front door, stealing everyone's attention away from the underwear situation for a minute.

"Mom, I'm not okay," Piper shouted the phrase that she often did, making Mrs Hart turn around to face her. Henry also looked over, trying to use his big brother status tocalm his bratty sister.

"Piper, we're trying to study here."

"I'm talking to my mother." Piper sassed back with irritation evident in her voice.

Henry decided he couldn't deal with her, so he rolled his eyes and looked back down at his PearBook.

"What's wrong, baby?" Mrs Hart looked at her only daughter with a sympathetic expression.

"Jessica unfollowed me!" The 9-year-old showed up again with an angry expression. She showed her PearPhone to her mom.

"No one cares!" Henry said back, clearly not understanding why the tiny issue so worked up Piper. He stood up with his laptop and walked off.

"Henry! Why would Jessica unfollow you?" Mrs Hart tried to keep the situation between her children calm.

"'Cause she posted a picture of her with me and Allison, so I posted a comment that said, "OMG, you look gorgeous." Piper started to explain.

"Well, that's nice." Her mother interrupted in a pleasant voice.

"No. 'Cause Allison thought it meant she looked gorgeous, so she posted a comment that said, "Thanks, ILY." And so then Jessica got jealous and unfollowed me, and now I hate myself, and I'm gonna die!". The young girl failed to see how silly and superfluous her problem was, much to her mother's confusion.

"I'll call Jessica's mom and talk to her." Mrs Hart reasoned, picking up her basket and walking off, which upset her daughter.

"No! That's not okay!" Piper followed her mom, shouting at her from behind.

"Dang it! All these jobs say I've got to have skills." Henry slumped back into his seat at the kitchen table in defeat from not finding a job he liked.

"So? You got tons of skills." Jasper looked at him and tried to cheer him up.

"Name one."

"You're a great dancer." Henry looked at him with a confused face.

"Not I'm not."

"You could take lessons," Jasper said back, waving his finger at his friend as he sat down on a stool.

"Oh my gosh." Henry suddenly looked worried and stood up from his chair.

"What?"Charlotte asked with a curious tone.

"I'm-- I'm not great at anything. This is tragic." He replied with a sad voice.

"Here, let me see." Charlotte wandered over to his computer and combed all the job adverts listed on the site whilst Henry was still complaining about himself.

"I'm just a big pile of average." He glumly exclaimed as Charlotte busily typed away.

"Okay, here's a job." Charlotte smiled with success, and Henry's attention was quickly on the screen as Jasper came up behind them.

"At a store called Junk-N-Stuff. It says, "Needed: part-time helper for various duties." Charlotte read out to the amusement of Jasper, who was giggling to himself behind her at the word 'duties'. The other two kids looked at him with a 'seriously?' expression on their faces before returning to look at the ad.

"And see? It says, "No special skills necessary." She added to Henry's delight.

"That's me. I've got to go get that job." Henry said with excitement, running towards the couch, grabbing the bowl of pine cones, and running them back to Charlotte in his hands.

"You get the pine cones." He said with a cheerful voice.

Charlotte took them from him with a bemused look on her face. Jasper looked disappointedly between them. He desperately wanted those pine cones.

"Sweet." Charlotte took them, rolling her eyes. After she had received them, Henry ran to the door, eager to get to Junk-N-Stuff before anyone else could apply for the job.

Good luck, Hen!" Charlotte called after him sweetly.

"Thanks!" And with a slam of the door, he was gone.

"If you give me a pine cone, I'll lick my elbow." Jasper offered the girl, who looked at him like he was insane. He tentatively reached for one of them, only for Charlotte to smack his hand away sharply.

~Junk-N-Stuff~

Henry entered the store he saw in the ad. Immediately after he oped the door, a giant T-Rex head on the wall breathed fire, causing him to look at it in wonder and amazement. An Indian man sat at the cash register, suspiciously looking at the boy who had just entered. Another man, wearing dark clothing with a black hat, was busy browsing the wacky junk that was up on the shelves.

Taking a closer look at the dubious man, Henry noticed that he had a distinct tattoo on his neck, but before he could properly inspect it, the man caught him staring.

"What are you looking at?" He said in a harsh voice, which caused Henry to stutter a little and look away.

"Uh, nothing. Just, uh, this turtle's butt." His answer seemed to make the man back off, and with a quick apology, he continued browsing.

Taking another look around the shop, Henry noticed the cashier was letting a huge Venus Fly Trap drink from an M-shaped straw. Clearing his throat, he introduced himself to the odd man.

"Um, my name is Henry Hart. I'm here about the job."

"The job?" The man said slowly, as the plant next to him burped.

"Um, did that plant burp?" Henry asked.

"Go back," The cashier said mysteriously, which confused the boy even more than he already was in the kooky store.

"Um, what? Come back?"

"Go back." He repeated, saying nothing more, not a single detail.

"Where?" Henry pressed as the man continued to drink through the curly straw.

"To the back."

"Oh, go to the back." The blond boy finally understood.

"Take the elevator down." The man explained very slowly.

"What floor?"

"Down." Was all the man had to say, which made the plant squeak, adding to Henry's bewilderment.

"You too." He pointed at the flytrap and started to make his way to the back of the store slowly.

Walking through the back, he came to a rusty-looking elevator, but the phone in his pocket started to ring before he could press any buttons.

"Hey, what's up?" He answered, finding it was Jasper on the line.

"Does my basement smell like chicken poop?" Jasper started with. Of all the questions he could ask, this was the one he asked when Henry was trying to get a job.

"Yes." He could hear Charlotte say in the background. He pressed the elevator button before replying.

"What?"

"I'm down in my basement with Charlotte, and she says it smells like poop from a chicken." He explained.

"A sick chicken!" He heard his other friend exclaim in the background again.

"Uh, what are you and Charlotte doing in your basement?" Henry was so confused as he stepped into the elevator.

"He wants to have his birthday party down here in this chicken toilet." He could tell Charlotte was annoyed with Jasper again, and he continued to listen to them argue."

"This is my home." Jasper protested in an offended tone, and Henry wanted the conversation to end as he pressed the down button.

"Guys, I can't talk right now. I'm at a job interview, so I gotta go." The second his fingertip left the button, the elevator fell down the shaft, causing him to shout and scream in fear. As he continued to fall with the elevator, he could hear his best friends express their concerns over the phone, but he was too busy failing to reply.

When he finally came to a stop, the doors opened to reveal a bright room filled with cool gadgets and rock music playing loudly.

"I'll call you back."

~(y/n)'s PoV~

"So tell me again, why do you need a sidekick?" As usual, I asked Ray, who, was excitedly walking around the Man Cave. He turned to me and began to talk to me in his 'Captain Man' voice.

"Because, my cute little helper, I realised I'm not getting any younger, and need help when I'm out doing cool superhero stuff." He came to a stop next to the couch where I was sitting and leaned on the back of it.

"Right, it's taken you 25 years to realise that." I retorted, which only made him roll his eyes at me. We often bantered with each other, being the best of friends, even though I've been in love with him for most of the seven years I've known him.

Y'see, I met Ray when he wanted a helper to look after the Man Cave when he was out and about as Captain Man, Swellview's beloved resident superhero. Gooch stays upstairs in Junk-N-Stuff, and I monitor the supercomputer for any emergency calls. I keep Ray in check when he lets his childish nature get the better of him. After being hired when I was 20, we worked to keep the safe city safe, and before I knew it, those beefy arms and that floppy brown hair had me head over heels. Not that I'd ever tell him.

In the last few years, I've been determined to maintain a professional streak in our friendship. That and his constant interest in all the pretty girls Swellview has to offer; I've been firmly in the friend zone since I moved in. Now I'm at the ripe old age of 27, and it seems that Ray is insistent that he introduces a new face to the Man Cave.

"Look, smarty pants, I put an ad online, and now I'm waiting for Gooch to send down an applicant." He had circled the couch and was sitting next to me while I was scrolling through a playlist of our favourite rock music.

"This ad you posted online. Can anyone apply for it?" I paused for a second after I processed what he said.

"Well, yeah, I guess. Anyone who saw it." I looked up at him with a slight scowl on my face.

"Wait, so we could have any weirdo come down the elevator into your super-secret hideout, and you're going to give them a job? And, you're going to trust them with your identity?" He had that stupid, but the loveable expression on his face told me he knew I'd caught him out.

"Yeah, but I can always use the memory wiper." He smirked back, making me scoff and remove myself from his side. I climbed over the back of the couch and walked to the automatic snack machine for some popcorn.

"Don't come crying to me when shit goes wrong, Raymond." I tried to tease him, but he had already put my headphones on his head and made the couch spin around the room. He was oblivious to the rest of the world, now jamming to some rock.

I was just about to order my popcorn when the elevator dropped, and a dazed, skinny, blond kid stumbled out. He looked around the Man Cave in amazement, quickly becoming confused when he saw Ray in his little music world.

'Huh, this could be interesting.' I thought to myself.

~3rd Person PoV~

The couch came to a stop, and Ray noticed that he now had a teen boy in his Man Cave. (y/n) looked on from the computer area, and the boy didn't seem to notice her, as Ray's exuberant personality quickly caught his attention.

"Hey! How are ya?! Cool. Thanks. Great to meet ya!" He exclaimed quickly, not giving Henry any chance to greet him back. He yanked off the headphones and chucked them to the couch, which caused (y/n)'s eyebrows to fly to her hairline, mainly because they weren't his to throw and also because he hadn't let the poor kid get a word in.

"I'm doing good. What's your name?" He said quickly, walking over to the boy and finally giving him a chance to speak.

"Um, I'm Henry Hart. I'm here about the job." To say how overwhelming the situation was, Henry did a good job of keeping his voice steady.

"Age?" Ray started his quizzing.

"13. I'll be 14 on my next birthday." Henry explained to the large man in front of him.

"Ahhhh. So, you're ageing sequentially. I like that." Ray placed a hand on his chin as if he was thinking.

"Thanks." Henry looked a little nervous as Ray offered him his hand and enthusiastically introduced himself.

"My name's Ray."

"Hi, Ray." They shook hands, grinning at each other.

"You ask a lot of questions." A baffled sense came over Henry as he took in Ray's statement.

"I don't think I've asked any questions." Henry stuttered out, which made the woman observing the pair wander over.

"Ray, you're confusing him. Hiya, I'm (y/n)." She came over to Henry, offering her hand and a calming smile, which he returned as he shook her hand.

"Chocolate or vanilla?!" Ray suddenly asked, causing (y/n) to throw her head back with a sigh. He couldn't be serious about stuff like this, and asked the most ridiculous stuff, but secretly, she loved that about him. It was cute, not that she'd ever admit it.

"Here we go." She braced herself for the weird questions Ray was asking poor Henry.

"Vanilla."

'Not a bad answer.' (y/n) thought to herself.

"Helicopters or kangaroos?" Ray pointed his finger at the teenage boy.

'Oh god.' (y/n) continued to stay silent.

"Helicopters," Henry answered with a slight tinge of reluctance, but Ray still accepted his answer.

"Love it. Scrambled eggs or dynamite?" He walked behind Henry, who was struggling to answer.

"Okay, Ray, what have you been sniffing and should I get my first aid kit?" (y/n) joked. Any average person would think Ray was insane, but (y/n) knew that that was just Ray's way.

"Both." Henry's answer distracted Ray from his best friend's comment. His eyes lit up as he contemplated the idea, making the young lady smile at him with fondness.

"Maybe. Complete this sentence, "I'm sorry, mother, I didn't mean for my elephant to blank." Ray quickly came up with a random sentence for Henry, curious to see what he would say.

"Uh, lick dad." Henry smiled as he thought of his parents in the ridiculous situation. He laughed along with Ray and (y/n) as they were all amused by the funny scenario.

Ray suddenly clapped his hands, and they all stopped laughing.

"Well, that's not funny." He said with a frown on his face.

"No." Henry's face had dropped too.

"Not at all." (y/n) muttered as she looked at Ray as he popped a 'special' gumball into his mouth and walked to the supercomputer.

"Um, is this the job interview?" Henry asked, completely lost with what was happening.

"Just wait and see, kid." (y/n) smirked at him and went to where Ray was now sitting, but her answer didn't help him.

"Do you want it to be the job interview?" Ray asked.

"Um, what is the job?" Henry was desperate to know. Suddenly, Ray leaned closer to him with a very excited face.

"What do you think the job is?" He asked back.

"Hey, genius, stop answering questions with questions." (y/n) had a bored expression on her face, but Ray knew she was entertained by what was happening.

"Shut up!" He held a finger up in her face, which she slapped away, giving Henry a chance to answer.

"Um, well, the ad said part-time helper, so I'm thinking maybe you need someone to help you, you know, part-time." Ray was squatting up and down as Henry moved his hands as he described his job interpretation.

"Do you ever dream about sleeping?" Ray asked in a severe voice, pointing the finger (y/n) slapped at Henry.

"No."

"Good. If you did, you'd be dead." (y/n) said, giggling, which made Ray smile at her. Deep down, she had the same silly sense of humour that he did.

Ray walked to the middle of the room, (y/n) understanding what he was about to do. Henry, however, did not.

"I'm so confused." Henry spoke truthfully, but then again, who wouldn't? The Man Cave always had that effect on people when they first came down, and when coupled with Ray's eccentricity, it made for a dazing experience.

"David?" Ray started.

"His name's Henry." (y/n) reminded him.

"Can I trust you?" The large man looked intensely at Henry, who looked to (y/n) for reassurance. She gave a slight nod and a smile.

"Sure."

"Can you keep a secret?" Ray continued.

"Totally," Henry said confidently.

"So I can trust you to keep a secret?" Ray moved back and forth as he enunciated each word, which made (y/n) look at him with impatience.

"Yes, sir," Henry said curtly. Accepting his answer, Ray took a few steps back from the boy and woman, who were both waiting for his next move. (y/n) placed a hand on Henry's shoulder, not wanting the teen to faint or overreact from Ray's theatrics. Henry looked confused but didn't say anything as he watched the older man.

"I'm gonna blow a bubble," Ray explained to him.

"You're going to blow a bubble?" Henry questioned exasperatedly, clearly not understanding the situation.

"And I'm going to blow your mind," Ray said excitedly, which fuelled (y/n)'s smile.

He began to blow his bubble, (y/n)'s heart thumping for what came next. The bubble popped, and in a flash of light, Ray changed his civilian clothes to his super-suit, finally showing Henry that he was Captain Man. (y/n) eyes raked over him, admiring how his costume fit him, but before he could notice her staring she looked back at Henry, who was about to lose his mind in excitement.

"You're Captain Man!" He shouted, his hands on his head in disbelief.

"That's right, Henry." Ray replied in his 'Captain Man' voice, enjoying the attention.

"Oh, hold on a second." His voice was a little embarrassed as he noticed his zipper was halfway down. His gloved fingers fumbled, trying to get the darn thing to do up properly.

"Stupid zipper. Always sticks. Com-- Ow! That's my skin!" He jumped up and down in an attempt to let the momentum fix the zipper, but it seemed to be well and truly stuck.

"Come here, Captain Doofus, let me do it." (y/n) sighed and walked over to the man.

His hands, previously tugging on his costume, came up to rest just a couple of inches from her face. Her tongue poked out as she worked on wriggling the stubborn zipper up the jacket. From that angle, he could analyse her delicate features as Henry watched and saw the chemistry between the two.

With a little more muscle and some help from an old bottle of oil, (y/n) was finally able to get the zipper to slide smoothly up Ray's chest. With one last pat to his pectoral, (y/n) stepped back in success.

"Who's a genius? All you need is a little lubrication." She bantered at him, putting the oil bottle on the couch table.

"Say until you believe it, small fry." he shot back.

"Muscle beanstalk." She stuck her tongue out, which made Ray return the gesture.

"I-- I can't believe I'm standing here talking to Captain Man!" Henry still couldn't believe what his eyes were seeing. This was a dream come true.

"Why, are you a fan? Do you like me? Most people like me but not everyone." Ray smirked at the thought of all the people who adored Captain Man.

"Yeah, I'm a huge fan." (y/n) was used to the praise heaped onto Ray, and over the years, she'd tried to keep him even a bit humble.

"Watch out, kid. You'll stroke his HUGE ego." She giggled at him and his enthusiasm.

"Oh man, I've gotta tell Jasper about this. He's going to freak when I tell him I'm standing next to Captain--" Henry reached for his phone in his pocket, but before he could start typing, Ray took his laser remote from his utility belt and zapped the PearPhone from his clutches. The burn from the laser on his fingertips caused him to drop the fried phone to the floor.

"I could've just taken his phone from him, but your way works too." (y/n) looked at the superhero, shocked that he'd just destroyed a teenager's most prized possession.

"Sorry, but you can't tell your friends about this," Ray stated sheepishly, telling Henry his most important rule.

"Yeah, sorry, kid, but he's right. You can't tell anyone about what you've just seen." (y/n) agreed, thinking that Ray's secret identity was the most essential thing in his life. The phone on the floor was short-circuiting on the floor as Henry went to grab it.

"Okay, but did you have to melt my phone?" He asked in irritation.

"I'll get you a new one," Ray promised, which prompted (y/n) to reply with joy in her voice.

"Oh yeah, big spender, it's not like we need the money for other things. Stop destroying little kids' phones." She commented, leaning against the couch.

"Hey, I'm not a little kid. But really?" His attention switched between the two.

"No," Ray said shortly before walking across the room and sitting on the back of the couch across from where (y/n) was leaning.

"So, Henry, tell me why you want a job." Now that was an interview question (y/n) that could get behind.

"Well, y'know, to learn responsibility and challenge myself," Henry explained, relating what he had said to his friends earlier, but (y/n) saw straight through the teenage boy, knowing exactly what all kids his age were after.

"So, you want money?" She proposed, smirking as she guessed correctly. Every kid was the same; always trying to get enough to buy what every other kid on the playground had, and this guy was no different.

"Lots of money." Henry quickly agreed with her because it was the truth. He did want money, and he was 13, and he wanted to buy what 13-year-olds buy!

In the middle of their conversation, the elevator dinged, and the doors opened to reveal an 'old woman' who staggered out into the man cave. Henry looked between the weird lady, the superhero and the young woman, wondering what on Earth could be happening now.

Ray and (y/n) knew what to expect. They had arranged the exercise that morning, but regardless, (y/n) was nervous as to how Henry would cope with what was going to happen next.

"Is this the ladies' room?" The 'woman' asked in a stereotypical British old lady voice. Henry was beyond confused now, but Ray maintained his calm demeanour.

"No, ma'am, you're not supposed to be down here." He said to the intruder, who started to look around.

"What an interesting place." 'She' complimented.

"Thank you, but we're conducting a job interview, and you're very old, so can you please just get back in the elevator?" (y/n) pointed back to where the 'old lady' first emerged, and directed 'her' to leave, as according to the plan.

"Oh, I'll just take me phone out of me purse and call me nephew." 'She' chuckled, rummaging through her bag.

"Great, I'll just turn around and look at something." 'Wow, smooth Ray, way to keep things subtle in front of Henry.' (y/n) mentally rolled her eyes as she lowered her gaze to the floor.

As the 'British' woman searched through 'her' purse, the tattoo on 'her' neck was exposed, making Henry realise that something wasn't right. He remembered when he had first entered the store above the hideout and recalled the same tattoo on the scary man from before. Watching the man/woman scowl, he shouted at Ray and ran to the intruder to try and stop them.

"Captain Man!!" Ray turned around for the man/woman to blast him in the chest. He clutched at where he was hit and cried out in fake pain before falling onto the couch. (y/n) ran to him, pretending to tend to the wound.

"Captain Man! You gotta stay with me!" She acted, trying to sound worried. Henry had begun to wrestle with the 'old lady' to get the blaster out of their hands. The 'old lady' hit him with 'her' purse, causing Henry to fall back from the impact. Taking advantage of Henry being on the ground, the 'woman' strode towards the pair on the couch, pointing the weapon at them simultaneously putting their fake boob back into place.

"Goodbye forever, Captain Man." They said in a more manly voice, as (y/n) tried to shield Ray from the laser, even though she knew he would be okay if he were hit.

Having recovered quickly, Henry saw the peril his possible bosses were in, and in the act of bravery and desperation to save them, he jumped on the attacker's back, causing the blast to miss Captain Man. They started to struggle across the room, but Henry clung to him.

"Get off of me!" The man swatted at him and spun around, trying to get the boy off.

"Quit talking like a British Lady." Henry quipped back, fighting the man with all his strength.

"Stop pulling me wig over me eyes." The man complained in a fake British accent. Henry jumped off his back and opened the elevator door whilst they couldn't see. Ray was still 'injured' and (y/n) was still trying to help him as Henry slammed his body into the guy, causing him to tumble into the open elevator. Thinking on his feet, Henry pressed the button, sealing him in, allowing him to look over and see the supposedly hurt superhero and his helper.

"Captain Man!" He panicked, seeing his hero sprawled out. He sprinted over to where (y/n) was 'checking' his pulse and other vital signs, which worried Henry more.

"Is he okay?!" He was panting, but (y/n) stayed calm, feeling his steady pulse under her fingers, and she knew he was alright.

"Captain Man is always okay!" Ray suddenly sat up with a cheery voice and clapped Henry on the back, making (y/n) remove her fingers and sit back on the couch. The game was up.

The elevator opened, revealing the man removing his wig, but Henry was letting the sensation of relief wash over him.

"Nice work, Boris." Ray smiled at the man in makeup, establishing a friendly tone between them, which puzzled Henry.

"The boy did good job." Boris congratulated Henry.

"Woah, woah, wait, wait. You know the--" He started.

"That's Boris. He works for Ray." (y/n) explained to the younger boy, smiling because Boris was right. Henry had done an outstanding job.

"What?" Boris walked over to the three.

"How'd you know he wasn't really an old lady?" Ray looked down at Henry, wanting to know how he'd spotted Boris' real identity.

"Uh, 'cause of the tattoo on his neck. I saw it on him up in the store. And his boobs are too wobbly." (y/n) nodded along with Boris, liking how observant the kid was.

"True. Get those under control." Ray joked, looking at Boris with disgust. Giving him a mini salute, Boris took off into the back of the Man Cave.

"You've got a sharp eye, good instincts and --" Ray started.

"And a nice shirt, and you're brave." (y/n) interrupted with a grin on her face, watching Ray analyse Henry.

"Thanks," Henry said appreciatively.

"Do you know how to make sandwiches?" Ray said, back to asking his weird questions.

"I do!" Henry realised, looking up at the superhero.

"Then you have all the qualities I'm looking for." He smiled down at him, making (y/n) smile too.

"But I--I don't..." Henry started, still confused, but he was beaten to it.

"You're the one, Henry." Serious moments like this allowed (y/n) to admire the older man in his real light. Yes, he was immature, but he was also a calm and brave man who took his job protecting people very seriously.

"The one to make you a sandwich?" Henry still didn't get it.

"No, no, no, I have (y/n) to do that." Ray retorted, but (y/n) punched him on the shoulder with some offence.

"Last sandwich I'll ever make you if you keep ordering me about!" She punched him again so he'd get the message.

"Everyone gets old someday, even Captain Man. I can't do this forever." Ray wandered over to the supercomputer with Henry and (y/n) in tow.

"Yeah, life gets real hard when you're pushing forty." The young woman decided to bite back at Ray.

"Hey! I'm still young!!" He shouted without turning around at her, which meant he didn't see her smirking.

"Doing what?" Henry brought them back to the original conversation.

"Protecting SwellView from bad guys, bad things, bad smells." Henry looked confused at the last bad thing.

"Smells?" He queried.

"You want to be horrified?" Ray turned back quickly and dramatically.

"No!" Henry rapidly said, not wanting to see anything too graphic.

"Watch this." Ray turned back to the computer, where his (your/colour/hair)ed friend pressed various buttons and controls to bring up a video.

The three watched as a small, but grown man in a baby's prison outfit grunted and danced weirdly in front of the camera.

"Who's the freak in the diaper?" Henry asked, clearly repulsed at what he was seeing.

"The Toddler, and don't let the diaper fool you, kid, he's pure evil." (y/n) said as the video got a close-up of the creepy criminal.

"Wow." Henry watched as the man-baby growled on the floor like an insane child.

"I'll show you, now watch this secret video that was intercepted by my people who intercept secret videos," Ray exclaimed, making (y/n) question his logic, but she pulled the video up nonetheless with a few clicks of the control panel.

"You were supposed to bring me my applesauce two minutes ago." The Toddler said onscreen. His henchman tried to apologise, but the Toddler wouldn't accept it.

"Sorry, don't make baby happy." He growled, blowing a long raspberry in the henchman's face, but he was interrupted by another man in an adult onesie.

"Toddler, good news. The radioactive Zenite is here." He said, and this seemed to put The Toddler in a happier mood.

"Really? Whoo-hoo!! That means we can begin phase 2 of my plan." The man-child said excitedly

"Will someone wipe my face?" The tied-up man asked timidly.

"NO!" shouted The Toddler, making Henry grimace, but Ray and (y/n) kept their grave faces. The Toddler complained about how hard it was to blow raspberries in his minion's face, so he ordered the big one to make a device that could do it fot him. The sight of him getting saliva all over their faces made Ray groan in disgust, which prompted (y/n) to shut off the video before he was sick quickly.

"You see that?" he asked Henry.

"He's a maniac!" Henry agreed with the two.

"And there's more maniacs like him, all dangerous to the good citizens of Swellview," Ray explained as he walked back to the centre of the room, causing Henry to turn around and (y/n) to swivel on the chair she was in.

"Well, yeah, but we've got you to stop them," Henry stated, knowing how devoted Captain Man was to Swellview.

"True. But I'm not as young as I used to be." Ray sighed, feeling depressed over his age.

"I'm almost thirty-four!" He looked down in pity, but (y/n) snorted in laughter at how ridiculous he sounded.

"Hey, don't laugh! You're six years younger than me!" He said, pointing at her, but she continued to laugh.

"I need help, and someday someone's gonna have to take over for me." Ray looked at Henry expectantly.

"Like?" The kid still didn't get it, which made (y/n) spell it out for him, not wanting it to drag out any longer.

"Like you, Henry." She said, walking over to them and gently placing a hand on his shoulder.

"What do you say, Henry?" Ray put his hand over hers.

"Do you wanna be my sidekick?" Henry scoffed in disbelief, his biggest dream about to come true, but first, he had to get his priorities straight.

"How much does it pay?" He added in.

"$9 an hour." Ray offered, which delighted the young boy.

"Whoa!!" Ray shared his excitement.

"I know, right?"

"Not even I get that!" (y/n) told the young boy,

"That's 'cause you get to live here." Ray pointed out, and (y/n) nodded with a roll of her eyes.

~Junk-N-Stuff~

Back up in the store, Charlotte and Jasper had come to see if Henry had been successful with his job interview. They opened the door and were struck with the same sense of wonder that had filled Henry when he first got to look around the shop.

"Whoa!" The curly-haired boy gasped at the cool gadgets/junk on the shelves.

"Check this place out." Charlotte shared his amazement.

"Hey, look at this thing." The excited chatter from the two teens made Gooch press a button on the side of his desk, switching the computer down in the Man Cave to the security cameras placed throughout the store.

~The Man Cave~

"Wow, a bucket of swords!" (y/n) saw two kids walking around the store.

"What are they doing here?" Henry said, not wanting his friends to ruin his chances of working with Captain Man.

"Friends of yours?" Ray asked with his arms folded.

"Uh-huh." They all continued to watch the screen, seeing how Jasper was entranced by one of the items on sale.

"Jasper, please don't embarrass me." Charlotte pleaded with him, giving (y/n) the idea that this kid was strange.

"Excuse me, sir."

"He's gonna do it." this made (y/n) bite her cheek to stop smiling at the girl's reaction.

"Yes?" Gooch elongated in his Indian dialect.

"How much?" Why was this kid so interested in a rusty, old barrel of swords?

"Each sword is $100." Gooch named the price.

"No, no, no, how much for the bucket?" 'Okay, this kid is really weird.'

"The bucket?" Gooch didn't understand either, it seemed.

"That's not a bucket. That's a barrel." Charlotte tried to tell him, but Jasper didn't care.

"It's close enough to a bucket. I collect buckets." He said with a proud smile on his face. 'Who the hell collects buckets?' (y/n) thought in her inner monologue; she didn't understand modern kids' obsessions.

"Don't say it." Poor Charlotte always got embarrassed by Jasper and his antics with buckets.

"I'm a bucketeer." And he said it.

"Well, they seem like nice kids. The boy's a bit weird but nice." (y/n) mentioned, leaning her arm on Ray's shoulder and looking over at Henry.

"Yeah, their names are Jasper and Charlotte. I've known them ever since--" He told them, still watching what they were doing upstairs.

"Get rid of them." Ray interrupted him, as he didn't want any more kids discovering the Man Cave or causing problems.

"I'll get rid of them." Henry quickly said and ran towards the elevator as (y/n) grabbed some popcorn from the auto-snack machine.

"You really have a way with children." (y/n) noted sarcastically, not loving how Ray spoke to Henry, but their attention was soon back on the screen and the bucket kid. Ray sat in the chair with his feet on the control panel, and (y/n) put her arms around his neck from behind, letting him reach the popcorn if he wanted it.

"Wow, what a bucket."

"Huh, kid sure loves that bucket," Ray said, looking up at her.

"Can't we just give it to him? Might make him leave faster." (y/n) pondered with a piece of popcorn in her mouth, not seeing how Ray gazed up at her.

"What? No! No free gifts to weird bucket kids."

They saw Henry run in from the back room, and he went over to where Charlotte and Jasper stood next to the sword barrel/bucket.

"Hey!" He greeted them.

"Hey Henry, did you get the job?" Charlotte asked him hopefully.

"Yeah." Ray grabbed the popcorn bucket from (y/n's) hands and started munching away.

"Cool." Charlotte congratulated him.

"Does that mean I can get a discount on this bucket?" Jasper asked him, really wanting the barrel/bucket, which irritated Ray a bit.

"I still say we just give him the bucket." (y/n) said, which caused the man sitting in front of her to throw a piece of popcorn up at her face.

"Dude, it's my first day here. You-- you guys gotta--" Henry tried to make them realise that they needed to leave, but when it came to buckets, Jasper Dunlop did not give up easily.

"Excuse me, mysterious foreign man, do Henry's friends get a discount here?" Jasper asked a perplexed Gooch, who only shook his head, along with his flytrap.

"That plant just shook its head!" Charlotte noticed in disbelief.

"Wow!" Jasper ran over to where the plant was kept, wanting to see if it would move again.

"Will you get him outta here?!" Henry shook her by her shoulders, trying to get the message across.

"How much for the plant?" Jasper asked Gooch.

"Like Gooch would give Omar to some kid." (y/n) giggled, taking more popcorn.

The flytrap squirmed and squealed at the thought of being bought, but Gooch quickly calmed it down.

"The plant is not for sale." He said seriously as Henry tried in vain to get them to leave.

"Come on. I'll give you seven bucks for it and one Canadian loonie." Jasper emptied his pockets and put all his money in front of the cashier. Not liking that the kid still wanted to buy him, the plant opened its mouth and squirted Jasper in the face.

"Ahhhh, it spat in my eye!" Ray laughed along with (y/n) at the sight of Jasper with his face screwed up. It was pretty hilarious.

"Hey, that's my popcorn, don't eat all of it." She said, trying to take the box back, but Ray was too enthralled with the kids onscreen.

"I told you Canadian money upsets people." Charlotte chastised as Jasper panicked from the spit in his eyes.

"You guys, you've got to go now." Henry started pulling his friends towards the front door, not wanting them to upset anyone else in the store.

"Wait, what about my bucket? I want the pretty bucket!" Jasper wouldn't let it go. Charlotte, too, was protesting why they had to leave so abruptly, but Henry still shoved them out of the door.

"Will you shut up about that bucket?" (y/n) heard Charlotte faintly shout from the street as Ray sipped on his drink that he reached for from the auto-snacker.

"Come on, get up, Henry will be back down here any minute, and he needs a costume if he's gonna be your sidekick." (y/n) patted Ray's shoulder and walked over to the couch.

"Yeah, yeah, but first, I want a banana," Ray said to her.

"All you ever do is eat." She joked.

"Just wait for the kid." He told her. The elevator dinged, and Henry came back into the Man Cave. Ray grabbed his banana and sat down next to (y/n), who started to tell Henry about what they were going to do.

"In that room, you'lll find loads of costumes about your size. Try them on, and we'll see what's best." She smiled, and Henry nodded in understanding.

"I gotta wear this?" Henry asked in horror, as he was wearing an American flag-inspired costume that was frankly hideous.

Ray sat munching his banana, looking at the teen in deep thought as he took in the outfit.

"All good sidekicks wear costumes." He told him.

"Yeah, but not like that. Take it off, Henry." (y/n) hated how bold it was.

"Yeah, I agree. This is bad." Henry nodded with her, looking at himself in the mirror.

"I have more options." The superhero said with a mouth full of banana.

This time, Henry was wearing a bright purple glitter jacket with matching pants and silver sparkly boots. It wasn't any better than the last outfit. He gave a twirl so the two adults could get a 360º look at the awful costume.

"The whole point of being a superhero is subtly. Why do you even have that?" (y/n) indignantly asked Ray, who was now eating another piece of fruit.

"Yeah, too sparkly."

The following costume wasn't any better, either. It was mainly red, with a hooded cape and a tight, shiny bodysuit. Nope.

"No capes!" (y/n) exclaimed. She hated them, knowing how they could be pulled and trapped during battle.

"Eh, it's a little Broadway." Ray wasn't keen on it either, this time eating some watermelon.

Okay, this one made (y/n) laugh loudly at how silly Henry looked. It was bright gold and too tight as Henry shuffled towards them, and at least he could make the criminals laugh at it.

"Too tight," Ray said, sitting on the couch with a half-eaten pineapple.

"Uh, way too tight." Henry squeaked out.

"Oh man, I ate a lot of fruit." Ray moaned in pain from his full stomach, but (y/n) had little sympathy for him.

"I told you not to eat all of it, but did you listen? Noooo." She said to herself, which made Ray place a hand on her head to steady himself.

This one was perfect. It matched Ray's suit, with silver, red and blue making up the jacket. Everything suited him like it was tailor-made. The two adults observing him smiled and nodded at the new costume.

"Hey! I like it." Ray said with glee as he stood up, his fruit-induced stomachache now subsided.

"I like it." Henry agreed.

"But it takes a lot of time to put on." He mentioned.

"Which is why you'll be needing this special bubble gum." (y/n) said, holding out a tube and passing it to Henry, who didn't understand its significance.

"Special?" He said, feeling confused again.

"Read the instructions." She pointed out.

"Chew gum, blow bubble, fight crime." He read aloud, looking up at Ray.

"Now, you'll be needing one of these too," Ray said, kneeling in front of him and placing a bracelet on Henry's wrist. (y/n) took Ray's laser remote and lowered the lights in the Man Cave because Ray wanted the next bit of the conversation to be dramatic.

"What's this for?" The boy questioned.

"It means we're engaged." He joked, making (y/n) giggle at him.

"What?" Henry's eyes grew wider.

"He's kidding. It's how we'll contact you." (y/n) reassured him before he could panic.

"Why can't you just call me?" Henry asked.

"I melted your phone." Ray reminded him in a monotone voice.

"Right." Henry nodded along with him.

"Now, listen closely. That wristband flashes." Ray started to explain.

"It flashes." The teen understood.

"A triple flashing light means emergency, like "major sitch going down, so get here fast." (y/n) finished for him.

"Right."

"A double flashing light means it's important." Ray continued.

"And what does a single flashing light mean?" Henry looked up expectantly.

"Just to, you know, shoot us a text whenever." (y/n) piped up in a casual voice.

"Got it."

"Now, raise your right hand, spread your fingers. Turn your head and cough." Ray said, doing the same.

"Oh god, here comes the oath." (y/n) mumbled under her breath. Henry mimicked Ray's actions.

"What?"

"Haha, joke." (y/n) rolled her eyes again at Ray's childishness.

"Place your left hand over your right lung, and repeat after me." He said as Henry slapped a hand over his chest.

"I, Henry Hart--" Captain Man started.

"I, Henry Hart--" The teen repeated.

"Pledge to be an awesome sidekick to Captain Man--" Again, (y/n) rolled her eyes. Most oaths didn't go like this.

"Pledge to be an awesome sidekick to Captain Man--"

"And to never ever, ever tell anyone that I am Captain Man's secret sidekick." Ray focused his eyes on Henry.

"And to never, ever tell anyone that I am Captain Man's secret sidekick." Henry smiled back.

"You left out that last ever." (y/n) butted in with her humour.

"Ever." Henry finished.

"It is done." Ray ended the oath, lowering his hand.

"Feels good," Henry said, smiling at the two. However, before they could celebrate more, the alarm went off, telling Ray and (y/n) that there was an emergency. The lights went back on, and they ran over to the supercomputer.

"What's up, Gooch?" (y/n) said, sitting down and opening the camera between the Man Cave and Junk-N-Stuff.

"Someone sabotaged the bridge over the Jandy River." He explained, looking worried.

"The bridge is down?" Ray asked in concern.

"Affirmative," Gooch confirmed.

"That means yes," Ray whispered to Henry.

"I think he knew that doofus." (y/n) whispered back.

"Situation?" Ray concentrated on the situation at hand.

"Cars in the water. Lives in danger." Gooch relayed the message.

"Understood," Ray said.

"Okay, from here to the Jandy River, tell them Captain Man's ETA is about 15 minutes, Gooch." (y/n) told the man before closing the link.

"Phase two of The Toddler's plan." The superhero said with his fists clenched in anger.

"Let's ride." He said to Henry, running over to grab a weapon from the bench.

"Wait, where?" Henry asked.

"We've got people in the Jandy River that need saving. Come on." Ray exclaimed in a hurry, running over to where the tubes came down.

"You mean we're going there together, like right now?" Henry wasn't up to speed with what was going on.

"Yeah, get under your tube," Ray said to him, wanting to get out as soon as possible.

"Good luck!" (y/n) shouted over to them with a grin from her place at the computer. Ray returned her smile briefly before looking back to Henry.

"Ready?" He asked him.

"For what?" The 13-year-old asked, not knowing what was coming next.

"Up the tube!" Ray shouted after hitting his belt. The suction started, and he shot up the tube and out of the Man Cave.

"I don't know how to--" Henry panicked. He started jumping up and down, hoping his tube would do the same.

"Just tap your belt buckle." (y/n) explained. Henry did as she said, causing his tube to come down.

"Up the tuuuuuuube.." Henry shouted as he, too, was drawn upwards.

~(y/n)'s PoV~

I sat down in the Man Cave, just lying on the couch like I usually did when Ray went out. I was scrolling through my phone when the news flashed on the computer. Noticing it was about the Jandy River incident, I swiftly gave it my full attention.

'--Take you live to the Jandy Bridge, which mysteriously collapsed over an hour ago." The female news anchor reported.

"Mysteriously, my ass." I snickered to myself. Like Ray, I had no love for The Toddler or any criminal.

"We understand there are several people in cars in the water. People are injured." The on-scene reporter said.

'Come on, get to the Captain Man bit.' I thought to myself, as I already knew all the details about the bridge collapsing.

I got up to grab some ice cream whilst they talked about the rescue operation. However, I soon ran back to my seat on the couch, nearly spilling the frozen dessert, when they finally mentioned Ray.

"Luckily, Captain Man arrived on the scene, leapt into the water, and saved the endangered citizens from drowning." I couldn't help but smile to myself at how selfless Ray was.

"And Ron, is it true that for the first time, Captain Man wasn't working alone?" The woman asked the reporter.

"Damn straight, lady! Go, Henry!" I shouted with a mouthful of ice cream, happy that Henry was being recognised for his actions.

"That's correct. It appears Captain Man has teamed up with a new sidekick, who apparently goes by the name Kid Danger." 'Huh, glad we discussed that one, Ray.' I monologued, but in truth, I wasn't angry or anything. 'Kid Danger' was a pretty sick name for a sidekick.

"Well, once again, Swellview owes a big thanks to Captain Man and, apparently, Kid Danger." The news anchor smiled as the report ended, so I turned off the screen. As soon as I did, a tube came down with a filthy Ray, which made my eyes widen in shock and laughter.

"Sweet cheese, what happened to you?" I said, running to grab a towel from the back of the Man Cave.

"Justice. That's what happened." He said from behind me in his Captain Man voice. I returned with a towel that Ray took from my hands and immediately wiped his face, letting out a sigh.

"Still no sign of the Toddler, then?" I asked sympathetically. He let out a long groan.

"Dang it, no! That piece of filth got away as soon as the bridge collapsed." He said, tiredly going over to the computer chair.

"Don't sit down! You're covered in river gunge and debris and stuff." He looked at me with puppy eyes, which melted my heart, but I wasn't about to spend an hour getting the dirt and smell off the chair.

"Look at me like that all you want, but you need a shower 'cause you stink." I push him towards the sprocket, where our rooms and bathrooms were.

"Leave your suit in the laundry basket, and I'll wash it!" I shouted to him, which he acknowledged with a wave of his hand behind his back.

"Thank you!" I chuckled after him. For all his craziness, I wouldn't give up working with him for the world.

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elleinmotion · 3 months

Note

I know it’s your story and I would never actually demand that you write this…but I would kill for the technically polite but definitely bitchy back and forth that went on between Gerold and Otto while negotiating Alyssa’s and Aemond’s marriage settlement.

Otto, trying to get more dragonriders: And of course the children will have a chance to claim dragons of their own—

Gerold: And bankrupt ourselves feeding the damn things? Not all of us have access to the royal treasury, Lord Hand. The old war machine lounging in our backyard already eats plenty of our sheep. We don’t want DRAGONS we want the Royce name to continue, with insurance that if they’re only blessed with daughters they won’t have their inheritance swiped from under them.

Otto: We’ve made our position on the issue of inheritance clear. Andal tradition clearly states—

Gerold: Good thing we’re First Men then.

you want behind the scenes bits? this is exactly how you get extended cut bits with amazing notes like this you're blessing me with in my inbox!!

"Imagine having the gall to offer such a pithy sum for your own grandson," scoffed Gerold Royce, tossing the be-ribboned, embossed, stamped and thoroughly wax-riddled parchment down on the table heaped with older letters of the same nature.

Jeyne Arryn discarded one lap dog, shuffling over the black and white dust mop masquerading as a canine to sweet Jessa who sat sidelong making copies of Jeyne's backlog of correspondence. The blonde-haired beauty took Jeyne's offering of dog with a tutting noise and all the usual fuss she gave to each and every one of their animals.

Just as soon as one was out of her lap, another dog leapt up to occupy it. One of the golden, fluffy beasts Jessa favored. It circled her lap twice, crinkling her silk gown before declaring itself satisfied with a whuff as it coiled into a fuzzy lump.

It was the latest in a series of letters traded by raven between the Eyrie and the Red Keep. By now, the damned birds were so accustomed to the route that they fairly manifested in the Eyrie's rookery like clockwork.

Such had been the routine since dear Lyssie and the rest of the Royce household had quit Runestone to shuffle to the Eyrie, a united and centralized front in the bureaucracy that was dithering in marriage contracts with the likes of Otto Hightower for the past two moons.

Jeyne plucked up the letter Gerold discarded, scanning Otto Hightower's cramped, atrocious handwriting for the gist of what set Gerold off as particularly miserly in a series of other extraordinary concessions the Hand was making in the contracts.

No doubt Otto would expect something of Jeyne and the Royces for the gracious allowances he was making with these negotiations.

Still, it was gratifying to see all the written arm-twisting they'd executed pay off when Otto Hightower's hardline demands started crumbling away in the face of making this marriage happen for his grandson.

"I wonder how Prince Aemond would take it if he found out his grandsire is trying to offer him for less than a Tarly girl would fetch if she married a Fossoway..." she mused.

"Thoroughly put out, I'd imagine," Jessa chirped. Then, sobering, "...might we dress it up for Lyssie instead of stating plainly that it was such a low sum? Certainly it might be a bit...insulting to hear of that in trade for a bridegroom? This is all so very backwards! I'm not certain of how to put it, marriage sums for a man instead of doweries for a lady."

"Absolutely not," Gerold almost shouted that bit from down the table. "You've not seen my niece at a horse fair, Lady Redfort. The girl's an absolute fiend for bargains and she's likely to be over the moon for it. Aemond Targaryen at a bargain! I'll never hear the end of it from her when she's trying to wheedle me for bigger sums for the smithy budget."

#graves inspo tbh #my fics #HOTD #Jeyne Arryn #Gerold Royce #Jessamyn Redfort #i've dug two graves for us my dear #aemond x alyssa #asks

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toomanyrobins2 · 2 years

Text

Are You Bald?

Summary: An orphan all her life, Y/N is simply too old to remain at The Bowery Home any longer. That is where an anonymous patron has swooped in to send her off to college and all he requires…a monthly letter of her academic progress.

Based off the book and musical “Daddy Long Legs”

Pairing: Bruce Wayne x Reader

last part // series masterlist // next part

NOVEMBER

Bruce was once again staring at the clock. It was the 30th of November and he wanted that letter. The October one had been multiple pages and he found himself returning to them at least once a week. He’d even wrote notes in the margin of her assignment she’d sent. In the middle of stuffing it into an envelope, he’d realized what he was doing and threw it across the room. Scrubbing a hand over his face, he heard the doorknob start to turn and quickly looked back at the papers on his desk, trying to seem as though he hadn’t anxiously been awaiting Alfred.

The older man placed the letter down on the desk and as soon as the door was shut behind him, Bruce was tearing into the letter:

15th NOVEMBER

Dear Batman,

Listen to what I've learned today:

The area of the convex surface of the frustum of a regular pyramid is half the product of the sum of the perimeters of its bases by the altitude of either of its trapezoids. It doesn't sound true, but it is--I can prove it!

You've never heard about my clothes, have you? Six dresses, all new and beautiful and bought for me--not handed down from somebody bigger. Perhaps you don't realize what a climax that marks in the career of an orphan? You gave them to me, and I am very, very, VERY much obliged. It's a fine thing to be educated--but nothing compared to the dizzying experience of owning six new dresses. After wearing gingham nearly all my life, this is truly a gift I will never forget. Barbara Gordon came with me to pick them out and tell me what looks good on me. Apparently, because of my skin, I must be careful with my dress. This is a different kind of education from the one you planned for me, but it is apparently very important according to Barbara. I have an evening dress, green mull over silk (I'm perfectly beautiful in that), and a blue church dress, and a dinner dress of royal purple, and another of pale yellow challis, and a grey street suit, and an every-day dress for classes. That wouldn't be an awfully big wardrobe for Harriet Kane, perhaps, but for Y/N Abbott--Oh, my! Of course, one dress would have to be yellow, but it's very pale, nearly a cream. I was worried about the green dress with my hair. I feared I would look like a tree of a person, but Babs was right it is a splendid color. Apparently, I have the perfect coloring for jewel tones. Who knew?

I suppose you're thinking now what a frivolous, shallow little beast she is, and what a waste of money to educate a girl? When I started high school, I entered another period even worse than the checked ginghams.

You can't know how I dreaded appearing in school in those miserable poor-box dresses. I was perfectly sure to be put down in class next to the girl who first owned my dress, and she would whisper and giggle and point it out to the others. The bitterness of wearing your enemies' cast-off clothes eats into your soul. If I wore silk stockings for the rest of my life, I don't believe I could obliterate the scar.

LATEST WAR BULLETIN!

News from the Scene of Action.

At the fourth watch on Thursday the 13th of November, Hannibal routed the advance guard of the Romans and led the Carthaginian forces over the mountains into the plains of Casilinum. A cohort of light-armed Numidians engaged the infantry of Quintus Fabius Maximus. Two battles and light skirmishing. Romans were repulsed with heavy losses.

I have the honour of being,

Your special correspondent from the front,

Y/N Abbott

PS. I know I'm not to expect any letters in return, and I've been warned not to bother you with questions, but tell me, Bats, just this once--are you awfully old or just a little old? And are you perfectly bald or just a little bald? It is very difficult thinking about you in the abstract like a theorem in geometry.

Given a tall, rich man who hates girls, but is very generous to one quite impertinent girl, what does he look like?

R.S.V.P.

Staring down at the letter, Bruce felt slightly put-out. The last letter had been nearly five pages. This was just one. One page front and back. What did he care about pyramids? Where was the discussion of her life, of basketball, and Barbara. He’d even take an update on the insufferable Harriet Kane. Throwing the letter onto the desk, Bruce leaned back in his chair and scowled at it.

DECEMBER

19th DECEMBER

Dear Batman,

You never answered my question and it was very important. ARE YOU BALD?

I have it planned exactly what you look like--very satisfactorily--until I reach the top of your head, and then I AM stuck. I can't decide whether you have white hair or black hair or sort of sprinkly grey hair or maybe none at all.

But the problem is, shall I add some hair to your portrait?

Would you like to know what color your eyes are? They're grey, and your eyebrows stick out like a porch roof (beetling, they're called in novels), and your mouth is a straight line with a tendency to turn down at the corners. Oh, you see, I know! You're a snappy old thing with a temper.

(Chapel bell.) 9.45 p.m.

I have a new unbreakable rule: never, never study at night no matter how many written reviews are coming in the morning. Instead, I read just plain books--I have to, you know because there are eighteen blank years behind me. You wouldn't believe what an abyss of ignorance my mind is; I am just realizing the depths myself. The things that most girls with a properly assorted family and a home and friends and a library know by absorption, I have never heard of. For example:

I never read Mother Goose or David Copperfield or Ivanhoe or Cinderella or Blue Beard or Robinson Crusoe or Jane Eyre or Alice in Wonderland or a word of Rudyard Kipling. I didn't know that Henry the Eighth was married more than once or that Shelley was a poet. I didn't know that people used to be monkeys and that the Garden of Eden was a beautiful myth. I didn't know that R. L. S. stood for Robert Louis Stevenson or that George Eliot was a lady. I had never seen a picture of the Mona Lisa and (it's true but you won't believe it) I had never heard of Sherlock Holmes.

Now, I know all of these things and a lot of others besides, but you can see how much I need to catch up. And oh, but it's fun! I look forward all day to evening, and then I put an `engaged' on the door and get into my nice red bathrobe and furry slippers and pile all the cushions behind me on the couch, and light the brass student lamp at my elbow, and read and read and read. One book isn't enough. I have four going at once. Just now, they're Tennyson's poems and Vanity Fair and Sherlock Holmes and--don't laugh--Little Women. I find that I am the only girl in college who wasn't brought up on Little Women. I haven't told anybody though (that WOULD stamp me as weird). I just quietly went and bought it with $1.12 of my last month's allowance; and the next time somebody mentions pickled limes, I'll know what she is talking about!

(Ten o'clock bell. This is a very interrupted letter.)

SATURDAY

Sir,

I have the honor to report fresh explorations in the field of geometry. On Friday last we abandoned our former works in parallelepipeds and proceeded to truncated prisms. We are finding the road rough and very uphill.

SUNDAY

The Christmas holidays begin next week and the trunks are up. The corridors are so filled up that you can hardly get through, and everybody is so bubbling over with excitement that studying is getting left out. I'm going to have a beautiful time on vacation; there's another Freshman who lives in Texas staying behind, and we are planning to take long walks and if there's any ice-- learn to skate. Then there is still the whole library to be read--and three empty weeks to do it in!

Goodbye, Batman, I hope that you are feeling as happy as am.

Yours ever,

Y/N

PS. Don't forget to answer my question. If you don't want the trouble of writing, have your secretary telegraph. Just say: Mr. Smith is quite bald, or Mr. Smith is not bald, or Mr. Smith has white hair. And you can deduct the twenty-five cents out of my allowance. Goodbye till January--and a merry Christmas!

TOWARDS THE END OF THE CHRISTMAS VACATION…exact date unknown

Dear Batman,

Is it snowing where you are? All the world that I see from my tower is draped in white and the flakes are coming down as big as popcorns. It's late afternoon--the sun is just setting (a cold yellow color) behind some colder violet hills, and I am up in my window seat using the last light to write to you.

Your five gold pieces were a surprise! I'm not used to receiving Christmas presents. You have already given me such lots of things-- everything I have, you know--that I don't quite feel that I deserve extras. But I like them just the same. Do you want to know what I bought with my money?

I. A silver watch in a leather case to wear on my wrist and get me to recitations in time.

II. Matthew Arnold’s poems

III. A hot water bottle

IV. A steamer rug, because my tower is dreadfully cold.

V. 500 sheets of yellow manuscript paper

VI. A dictionary of synonyms. (To enlarge this author's vocabulary.)

VII. (I don't much like to confess this last item, but I will.) A pair of silk stockings.

And now, never say I don't tell all! It was a very low motive, if you must know it, that prompted the silk stockings. Harriet Kane comes into my room to do geometry, and she sits cross-legged on the couch and wears silk stockings every night. But just wait--as soon as she gets back from vacation I shall go in and sit on her couch in my silk stockings. You see, the miserable creature that I am but at least I'm honest; and you knew already, from my record, that I wasn't perfect, didn't you?

To recapitulate (that's the way the English instructor begins every other sentence), I am very much obliged for my seven presents. I'm pretending to myself that they came in a box from my family in California. The watch is from my father, the rug from my mother, the hot water bottle from my grandmother who is always worrying for fear I shall catch a cold in this climate--and the yellow paper from my little brother Harry. My sister Isabel gave me the silk stockings, and Aunt Susan the Matthew Arnold poems; Uncle Harry (little Harry is named after him) gave me the dictionary. He wanted to send chocolates, but I insisted on synonyms. You don't object, do you, to playing the part of a composite family? And now, shall I tell you about my vacation, or are you only interested in my education as such? I hope you appreciate the delicate shade of meaning in `as such'. It is the latest addition to my vocabulary.

The Senior girl from Texas is named Diana Prince. I like her, but not so much as Barbara Gordon; I shall never like anyone so much as Babs--except you. I must always like you the best of all because you're my whole family rolled into one. Diana and I and two Sophomores have walked 'cross country’ every pleasant day and explored the whole neighborhood, dressed in short skirts and knit jackets and caps, and carrying shiny sticks to whack things with. Once we walked into town--four miles-- and stopped at a restaurant where the college girls go for dinner. Broiled lobster (35 cents), and for dessert, buckwheat cakes and maple syrup (15 cents). Nourishing and cheap. It was such a lark! Especially for me, because it was so awfully different from the orphanage--I feel like an escaped convict every time I leave the campus. Before I thought, I started to tell the others what an experience I was having. The cat was almost out of the bag when I grabbed it by its tail and pulled it back. It's awfully hard for me not to tell everything I know. I'm a very confiding soul by nature; if I didn't have you to tell things to, I'd burst.

We had a molasses candy pull last Friday evening, given by the house matron of Fergusson to the left-behinds in the other halls. There were twenty-two of us altogether, Freshmen and Sophomores and Juniors and Seniors all united in amicable accord. The kitchen is huge, with copper pots and kettles hanging in rows on the stone wall-- the littlest casserole among them about the size of a wash boiler. Four hundred girls live in Fergusson. The chef, in a white cap and apron, fetched out twenty-two other white caps and aprons-- I can't imagine where he got so many--and we all turned ourselves into cooks.

It was great fun, though I have seen better candy. When it was finally finished, and ourselves and the kitchen and the door-knobs all thoroughly sticky, we organized a procession and still in our caps and aprons, each carrying a big fork or spoon or frying pan, we marched through the empty corridors to the officers' parlor, where half-a-dozen professors and instructors were passing a tranquil evening. We serenaded them with college songs and offered refreshments. They accepted politely but dubiously. We left them sucking chunks of molasses candy, sticky and speechless.

So you see, Bats, my education progresses!

Don't you really think that I ought to be an artist instead of an author? Vacation will be over in two days and I shall be glad to see the girls

again. My tower is just a trifle lonely; when nine people occupy a house that was built for four hundred, they do rattle around a bit.

Eleven pages, you must be tired! I meant this to be just a short little thank-you note--but when I get started I seem to have a ready pen.

Goodbye, and thank you for thinking of me--I should be perfectly happy except for one little threatening cloud on the horizon. Examinations come in February.

Yours with love,

Y/N

PS. Maybe it isn't proper to send love? If it isn't, please excuse me. But I must love somebody and there's only you and Mother Waller to choose between, so you see--you'll HAVE to put up with it because I can't love her.

Bruce felt like a dirty old man. He couldn't stop the picture of Y/N in her robe and silk stockings. He sat in his study, trying to fight off the images. It was too easy to imagine her sitting in his favorite chair by the fireplace in his study while he worked. She would pad in quietly, her messy locks hanging freely over her shoulders, and head straight for his books. Completely ignoring him and yet, it was the definition of domestic bliss.

He shook his head and, too violently, shoved the newest letter with the others. “You keep the letters?” Clark’s voice startled Bruce, not that he’d ever admit it, “You’ve never done that before.”

“They are entertaining. She is studying to be a writer after all.”

“Of course," Clark just smiled like he knew a secret that Bruce wasn’t privy to, "Now, can we go? The host disappearing from his own New Years' party is never a good look. Lois has called for us three times?"

"Yes, fine." Bruce stood up and stared down at the drawer again. he couldn't help but wonder what Y/N was doing to celebrate.

#toomanyrobins #Bruce Wayne #Bruce Wayne imagine #Bruce Wayne x reader #battison #battison imagine #battison x reader #Batman #batman x reader #batman imagine #batfam #batfamily #batfam imagine #dc comics #dcu imagine #✉️

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empressawesomecoolness · 6 months

Text

Spoilers for Penny Dreadful Season 3 (the show’s been over for like five years now but still if you’d like to start watching it and go in blind to be surprised by stuff and whatnot, scroll on.

————————————————————————

I’ve had this show on my mind again lately lol so bare with me while I rant about stuff no one cares about. One thing about the show I’ve always been sorta on-and-off about is that I’ve kinda got gripes against how Dr. Jekyll was treated in Season 3 of Penny Dreadful. I do seriously love the show with all my heart, and for the most part I think it’s literary adaptations were spectacular, but I’ve gotten more hung up on some things about Penny Dreadful’s Jekyll than I have any of their other adapted characters. I’ll just list my personal pros and cons of his character as they presented it in the show:

Pros

- I love Shazad Latif! He’s a really great actor and his relatively small supporting role as Jekyll does allow him to show a lot of range. This Jekyll comes off as someone who hides behind a mask of prim-and-proper high society, only to be hiding a lot of deep seeded anger and downright hate behind it. It’s a great extension of Jekyll’s characterization in the novel, so props to Latif for carrying that weight so well.

- I like the spin they put on Jekyll’s backstory. In the novel, Jekyll is a 50 year old man and (safe to assume) is white. In Penny Dreadful, Jekyll is in his late 20s - early 30s and is mixed-race (his father is a white Englishman, while his mother was Indian. To sum it up, Jekyll blames his father (who’s a relatively rich man) for abandoning him and his mother, with this neglect eventually leading to Jekyll’s mother’s death. So after moving to London to study for his doctorate in mental health/illness, he’s treated like shit by his white British peers (except for Victor Frankenstein, but we’ll get back to that). Jekyll later claims in the season that his “inner beast”, as he calls it, was born from both his father’s neglect and his racist treatment as an adolescent. If anything would cause someone to harbor a lot of anger and resentment in them, it would be injustices like that. It’s an interesting route to take Jekyll.

- I love that Frankenstein and Jekyll are old college friends and can really confide in one another. It seems obvious to pair them up in a show where a bunch of famous 19th century literary characters co-exist, but the way their dynamic is written is so interesting and deep. Victor blames himself for creating what he sees as monsters from dead matter, and Jekyll feels guilty for harboring such dark thoughts. Together, they really feel like they can effectively work towards their research and towards solving their issues.

- His look is so cool. Lots of long, dark overcoats that evoke his status and the gothic core of the character really well. His shoulder length hair is a nice touch, and his working-in-the-lab look is just as memorable. The tied-back hair, smock, and rolled-up sleeves are so good. Very classic Hollywood mad-scientist vibes.

Cons

- I just wish we saw him more! It would’ve been really cool if Jekyll was in the show from the start (and slowly began to progress to creating the Mr. Hyde serum & persona), so it’s a little sad to just see him here for only eight episodes. According to a few articles I’ve read, they originally wanted to have Dr. Moreau (from H.G. Wells’ The Island of Dr. Moreau) appear as Dr. Frankenstein’s old friend in season 3, but there was some sort of copyright issue or something of that sort which prevented that from happening, so they went with the safely public-domain Dr. Jekyll instead. It would’ve been cool to have Dr. Frankenstein and Dr. Moreau interact and engage with each other (especially sense both have created sentient creatures from recycled organic material), but again I do think Jekyll and Frankenstein have a good dynamic in the show as is, so I’m not too upset on that front.

- Ok so in the novel, the basic gist of Jekyll’s motivation for creating the serum in the first place was 1) to try and separate the “good” half of his person from the “bad” part, and 2) to be someone else so he could live out his inner vices without having to harm his high-status reputation. This leads to him creating Edward Hyde and using that persona to go out at night and indulge himself in whatever he pleases, which eventually leads to murder. My takeaway from the novel (just my interpretation, yours can be different) is that Jekyll is kinda wrong for having done this. Sure, you feel for the guy after his serum backfires and everything goes awry, but in the end he just wanted to be a bad person and get away with it through Hyde. In Penny Dreadful, Jekyll’s “inner beast” (which presumably will lead to Hyde) is directly said to have been born from being treated like dirt by horrible people in his life. Is he not justified in having an “inner beast” towards shitty people like that? It’s been a while sense I’ve rewatched the show, so I don’t remember if he ever speaks of potentially murdering anyone, but him saying that he’s happy his neglectful father has died is as bad as it gets with him. Novel Jekyll wanting to effectively create an potently angry alter-ego so he can live out his nasty fantasies is a lot different than Penny Dreadful Jekyll being rightfully angry at people who have severely wronged him. As Jekyll puts it in the book: “… Edward Hyde alone in the ranks of man, was pure evil”. I don’t think it’s very evil to hate racists and neglectful parents.

- I know a lot of fans also had this gripe when season 3 can out, but I’ll just restate it here anyways: why isn’t Mr. Hyde here??? There is a small reference to that name (Jekyll gains a lordship from his father’s inheritance, taking his father’s title as “Lord Hyde”) but it feels really tacked on.

I think it would’ve been more interesting if Jekyll had a breakdown and used the serum he and Victor create in the show on himself, effectively breaking his mind and creating Hyde. Even just a small scene would have done, like Victor walks in and sees Jekyll transformed as Hyde after testing on himself, leading to a tense and sad confrontation before the two part ways. Maybe this is a lot to ask for (to be fair, season 3 had a lot going on), so I try not to gripe on it too much, but it still would’ve been a cool and more interesting take on the Jekyll/Hyde spilt from the novel.

- He’s very secondary to Dr. Frankenstein and is mostly present to serve Victor’s redemption. I love this rendition of Victor Frankenstein so much, but I would’ve like for this rendition of Henry Jekyll to get to shine a bit more often. Other reinterpreted characters in the show, like Ethan and Victor, get to live out their famous tales again in the series, so I find it frustrating that Jekyll is given a sort of prequel era position, with the show only ever hinting at him maybe succumbing to his vices and becoming Mr. Hyde in the future.

Latif’s Jekyll is overall a very well-written character, and he’s a worthy adaptation of Dr. Jekyll, but I do think it would’ve been even cooler and more appropriate to the themes of season 3 if Hyde made an appearance and the writers really were able to go for it with him.

ok, rant about a long dead tv show is over

good day :3

#penny dreadful #dr jekyll and mr hyde #shazad latif #halloween posting

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quirkthieves · 1 year

Text

BNHA VERSES; THE KITSUNE

(Since all of these characters are connected rather closely, this post will serve to sum up the verse for all of them!)

Inari Yoko is the Head Superintendent of the Hero Public Safety Commission's Internal Investigations Department. Her job focuses around on investigation into heroes, hero agencies, and the commission itself; a regulating body that can enforce rules and dole out criminal and civil punishments. On paper, her quirk is "Bewitch", a fragrance that turns aggressors to admirers. Truth be told, though, the power of "Bewitch" is much stronger-- and not even her real quirk.

Inari's real quirk is Consumption; she acquires the quirks of people by eating them, although each new acquired ability worsens the gnawing hunger she feels daily. Bewitch is one of these quirks, as is Fire-Breathing and Nine-Tailed Beast.

Inari is also not her real name. Her true name is Ii, and she was, at some point, the elder sister of Rikiya Yotsubashi, although denied her birthright. As she grew older and realized the MLA would always cast her in his shadow, she decided to leave-- after eating her betrothed.

Now, as the Head of Internal Investigations, she maintains a double life; on top, a respected member of public safety. Behind, though, she rules a criminal enterprise that consists of "erasing incidents" and extorting criminals and naughty heroes from the commission's eye. Very few organizations last long under her eye, whether raided officially or off the record by her subordinates. That being said, as of now she avoids encroaching on the affairs of All for One; a fragile but long-lasting truce out of respect for another well-established villain empire.

Nobimaru (or, known to the public as "Homuramaru Nowaki") is her assistant; a strange and unreadable individual. To the public, he's her assistant and a "mascot" of sorts; only ever appearing as a 13 year old boy with black fox ears and a tail, which is assumed to be his quirk. His colleagues at the commission are under the same impression, as are those outside of a select few in their criminal affairs. His true self is an adult; a young man with long legs and a much looser way of speaking. His real quirk is Kitsune, a powerful combination of shapeshifting and flame. He frequently shifts between age and gender and species to achieve his goals, and rarely breaks his enigmatic facade.

Nobimaru would have been the perfect Meta Liberation soldier; a fact that led his disillusioned mother to send him away down the mountain as a young child. This would then be covered up and shifted to frame a senior member of the army with being responsible for the disappearance (and presumed death) of a member of the Yotsubashi family, allowing for newer executives to fill in and soothe political upset in the group. His mother is Inari Yoko; a fact she is unaware of, given his efforts to change his hair color and physical age when she is present. As far as she's concerned, he is simply a very capable assistant.

In later-canon threads, Nobimaru will be missing his right arm, having replaced it with... something. Damaged in a skirmish in which Shigaraki was involved, Nobimaru's hand became useless, and so he chose to rip the whole arm off and replaced it with what I will tentatively call an "experimental technology" prosthetic. It is not safe and appears to be actively harming him. But Nobimaru is the type of person who will damage his body in pursuit of his goals.

Hinata Haruka (a woman who rarely uses her given name at all and finds it odd to do so) is a member of the Special Investigation Unit, a group put together by Inari and Nobimaru to do their dirty work, especially with the amount of activity springing up in the villain world. They hold the title of "Investigators", but rarely do any actual work for the commission. A fact which works well for her; she hates filling out paperwork in the slightest.

Hinata has a rather useful quirk: Solar Flare, which produces a flame so hot and concentrated that, when channeled properly, can cut cells so finely it doesn't damage them. She uses this in conjunction with a giant nata knife, severing steel beams and limbs alike.

Her specialty in dismemberment isn't entirely of her own will, or even born out of a particular desire for violence-- her partner, a man named Robara, has the quirk Glue Gun; which allows him to turn any organic material he produces into a transforming "glue" he can use to do anything from healing injuries to making weapons. The problem is more to do with him, though-- a mass murderer and serial assailant who, when left alone, will tear people limb from limb and rearrange them into "crafts". Hinata's skill allows them to re-assemble people without permanent injury or loss of function, unlike his "messy edges".

She has been "dating" Robara since they were 5, having befriended him despite his odd tendencies. She went over to play at his house, and found him sleeping on a bed made from his own mother. Horrified, she held him, and he mistook this as a confession of love and responded in kind.

She took him home, and covered up that he was the cause of the incident, and her family took care of him. As time went on, though, and his violent behavior worsened, her family began to express a concern about them dating. This would lead to Robara threatening to kill Hinata's family on multiple occasions, and out of desperation, she left home at 15 to run away with him. They would seen then enter a life of crime, which a decade later would result in the two of them being recruited for the SIU.

Hinata believes Robara is incapable of taking care of himself and can't help his "urges", a fact he is more than happy to emphasize and manipulate in order to keep her from leaving him. In truth, she despises killing, and would have liked to have been a school teacher.

#SHOUT OUT THE SPELL++ ;NOBI/MARU BNHA VERSE #LET'S CAVORT IN THE COFFIN++ ;INARI BNHA VERSE #STILL YOUNG OUR NIGHTMARE++ ;HINATA BNHA VERSE

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libidomechanica · 4 months

Text

I only known thatch upon the midst of me

She only said, the more. To join the sum of the land before attend the trees, made my heaven will turn to go: but

thine eyes, as my own child. The Palace- Chamber of the waxen touches. I only known thatch upon the midst of me?

Of Rosalend who knows not whether it to reach thro’ memory fades from what to you better seed among somewhere

my own beat the loud with horrid temple, and makes us wise; yet could be doubled spirits grey line there cams’t thou be

like a beast the first woman like thee descend below, and rave and all is well; tis something new: that we’ll put on black

Buick, driven before, and heaven; and careless sea, the slow offence, an eye, which we cease to behold, upon the

way younglings, fearing to proceeds from the Golden Apollo, that he sought it oft, where beneath the motes that reach a

hand, an industrious man whose nobler tone: but that runs, and hide thy name, but silk that tongue, for o’er the glen sae bushy,

O! Reason in these voluptuous accents on mine eye, which we dare invoke the old to the desert wondering

grape of the dead. Thee over and the wonders to Candy with the voyce, which he drank deep: and Bahrám, that his grave:

and on herb, tree, fruit, flowers to deck. This woman, tired of the Hunter of his unpolished manners, purer

life nor light of his back he seeming arms, white and breast which makes you, sir, to you. Only dry instruction view. One voice

four day put by the cursèd duke; o give height, is on the roof- tree fall. Some little I thought to shake mankind. Comfort, now

my random through the music out. So, the tablet glimmer’d, and withstood, brown with thee and yet men with horrid shout, my

wife, my boiling sprite with all things astray, and, like Orpheus did for him there will become extinguish also flee,

as link’d with the jaws of vacant yearning on disquiet on the wheat was yellow, and leaue to consumed with all fancy

lightens to your weary way; I with Florian, my two friend is often I get that has many a long the

change she earth my designed, with so pleased with under the way he went from hence you given, and did we weaves of speculation

is gone, hey ho the arrows breathed pearls not if you were a target for her liable to prevailing well,

and shocks of vowed hairs. Bene the will t’effect so lives in a trice were shut; the conquer all the motion too, be off!

#poetry #automatically generated text #Patrick Mooney #Markov chains #Markov chain length: 7 #204 texts #ballad

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writer59january13 · 8 months

Text

The finis sing touches touché

Knead dull brows knitted;

belief system I cogitate gearing thee ordinary bipedal hominid

acquiesces to deck the halls of the mountain (dew) king with boughs

of sister golden haired sprinkling angel dust

from cremated remains

in bleak midwinter unwittingly interweaving pagan rituals

tacitly accepted yet quietly jeered

as anathema to march of the kings,

who instilled obedience or death which layman forswore, whence his loss

of life or limb as mass of cries neared resounding like tortured souls

self flagellating their inherent

joy to the world,

whereby unsuspecting cynics among

the madding crowd paired amidst common everyday folk

beckoning ad lib lip-synced first noel extemporaneously grafting customs

taught when reared as just a little drummer

boy/girl pipsqueak, since straying from mainstream religious

parameters scared the silent night

with unimaginable ogres

on the warpath to smite mortal

man/woman with flaming torches

angering unfriendly beasts tiered

inside the city state panning labyrinth

ready for total mortal kombat while shepherds watched their flock –

as the latter veered away from getting fleeced

such as this writer,

who might be lambasted for verging on the brink

of being sacrilegious and/or weird

after forking over a tidy sum a million bucks? Not by a far stretch.

Please keep on the que tee i.e. hush

regarding this soupy poetic fabrication

bravely bursting buttucks amucks

thus haint wise to mess wit me lest cha wanna split high knee a fate worse than death with hen whoopsy tipsy daisy excuse employing faux pas impairment via this Gypsy.

Diabolical harassing lurked poised – ready to strike yours truly, when he obliviously frolicked, during his boyhood carefree before the onset of self loathing.

Drunk with knowledge

whither hearing, vis (ideally, liberal commentators I adore), asper "NON FAKE") news, more than weather, latest sports score or reading, (yes of course out loud applying index finger de rigueur of right hand as pointer)

poetically mentioned once before

ditto via select publications

(oh...alright TIME Magazine, The Nation,

and/or Mother Jones) all of which boar like a mellow red bull at four

after midnight, nonetheless, who decrees

(hmm... maybe ludicrous

to ask Jeeves courtesy deplore able basketcase, but inquisitiveness persists

what body electric discriminates furthermore

freedom of what gets published, or determines permissible broadcasts

made by Federal Communications Commission

allowing, enabling, and providing galore

of choice morsels pollinating mass media buzzfeeding popular culture

additionally permitting opinions

shared by hardcore investigative journalists, putting life and limb at risk

nonetheless inherent within constitution delimiter

i.e. bureau to censor radical, subversive, more

treasonous than Socialism with Iron Maiden on tour must serve as kickstarter

to stifle: tyranny, mutiny, anarchy, et cetera and shore

up defenses (perhaps in guise of a reinforced wall) toward those who ignore

codas defining complex edifice of government

trumpeting defiance, uncivil disobedience, insouciance, et cetera in an attempt to restore

totalitarianism stripping away inalienable rights of life, liberty and pursuit

of happiness endowed by a smoothbore!

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the-tiniest-one · 3 years

Note

Hello! I saw you asking for requests to be sent in. I was wondering if you could do headcanons for kakashi and gai (separately) with a plus size civilian s/o? Or one or the other? Thank you in advance ❤

MIGHT GUY

SO we all know Guy is ALL about 3 things. Youth. Passion. Protecting Precious People….and guess what? When you happen to cross paths with the Leaf Village’s Blue Beast, he trips over himself to let you know just how PRESH you are.

I don't see your status as a civilian as much of a road block for him. He needs someone grounded and with soft hands to hold.

Someone who will think he’s the strongest man in the world, a superhero.

He protects the ones he loves with his life and once you're in that circle there is no way out of this man’s giant heart.

You somehow enter Guy’s line of sight, maybe on a walk to class or work too early in the morning…. and from that moment you pass by and he catches sight of your pretty face, he is out for the count.

Now. Lets remember….Guy is CONFIDENT (sometimes more in spirit than in actual ability, he is the fake-it-till-you-make-it KING).

Also important to note: Guy is NOT the same as Rock Lee in his pursuit of women. He’s not about to blow every kiss at you from the jump or shamelessly confess everything out right. Don't get me wrong, he’s shameless….but Guy wants to be seen as someone cool, sexy, a real macho/mighty man... He wants to be slick Kakashi his eternal rival. He’s going to try to be velvety smooth….without success.

He would find any excuse to be in your eye line while flexing or saving a poor disguised student he employed for his contrived scheme, in this case... Neji or Lee in a dress from falling off a building LOL. (“They would be asking him to please explain again how this is training?”)------You might be a civilian. But Genjutsu of that level does NOT work on you LOL.

You are the one to finally introduce yourself to a slumped and defeated Guy after about a week of his adorable attempts at trying to bate you in with his goober acts.

“Hello, my name is (y/n). I was hoping maybe you would like to get a drink sometime?” you say with a half smile.

He would raise his head, teeth BEAMING….the power of youth always prevails!

Best. Decision. Ever. Guy charming and not to mention SHREDDED.

When he accepts your date offer, He would stand and grin, maybe saying something a little cocky like; “A handsome, war hardened devilish shinobi such as myself will always find time to satiate the voracious desires of such a heavenly woman so bursting with the essence springtime.”

He would be so so so respectful.

That being said, you're HIGH AF if you think you aren't making a B-line to walk by Kakashi on the way so Guy can tactfully walk by loudly so that his rival notices he’s with a cute girl.

He’s going to be the chivalrous type. The kind of man who makes sure your hands are around his giant bicep whenever he escorts you anywhere….which from this point on is almost anytime he is home from missions or not training.

Guy is perfect. He’s tall, JACKED, and such a sweet loving man.

He is obsessed with your shampoo. His nose is always in your hair.

Lets face it. Guy is 100% the most physical man that has ever walked the streets of Konoha. If you aren't big on touching, then his is not the man for you.

One hand will always be around your waist, holding your hand, arm around your neck, locked on your curves or anywhere else….respeeeectfully of course.

He will always be up on you and in your face so get ready for that LOL.

He will be proud of you. He will be boisterous to an exhausting level about your achievements.

He will be exhilarating in every way.

One of Guy’s greatest strengths is also one of his most unfortunate downfalls. He is wildly protective. Never underestimate his ferocity when it comes to you. You may have to communicate more than once where the line is when it comes to him watching over you. Even though you aren’t skilled in combat as he is, you also are not a child and he will take some time to learn what you require and what you don’t.

He always means well.

You have some faults and things to work on as well. Guy is tender as hell, an emotional, hot blooded, love sick fool who can and WILL take things you say to heart so be sure if you notice him freaking out or trying too hard to make you happy, to hold him and let me know often that he is perfect the way he his.

In the end all of the passions and butterflies that Guy provokes from your heart are entirely justified.

He will ask you to marry him after a date, probably at sunset, one knee, giant ring he spent way too much on.

He claims you deserve the world and you tell him that instead of the world “you would settle for just having his hands, his lips, and his heart.”

Do your best to return his love to the best of your ability because not everyone gets the chance to be loved by the Hidden Leafs Handsome Blue Beast.

KAKASHI

I’ve never seen Kakashi as someone who would end up with another shinobi bombshell.

Instead I think he would find himself interested in someone who is a total badass in another line of work.

Example; You first encounter him one day while advising Lady Tsunade on the information the Hidden Leaf Village (and a few others) pay’s your company large sums of money to collect, aggregate, and report.

Kakashi stands guard during the meeting, watching you speak with an eloquent grace and authority he finds captivating and maybe a little seductive.

By then end of the meeting he is curious about you...wondering what you thought of him, what you think about everything.... You never even look his way.

He falls in line with you as we escorts you out of the building, walking beside you in the otherwise empty stairwell.

You smirk and take the liberty of speaking first. “Did you enjoy the show Scarecrow?”

From that moment on he’s hooked.

Now I also don’t find the idea of him falling for someone with some FULL curves to be all that outlandish….He has never given .00000001% of a shit what other people think.

He also shares the famous Pervy Sage’s taste in “women he describes from research” and romantic books about women shaped like gourds so with that logic in mind….dude likes thicc, full, curvaceous women for sure. It's basically cannon at this point ;)

Kakashi is someone who has learned emotional detachment through pain. You are the first person who shows promise in tearing down those defenses.

Your relationship not necessarily a slow burn. Kashi isn’t a kid, just because he hasn’t fallen head over heals with anyone before, doesn’t mean he is a mystery to himself or oblivious to his feelings.

That being said, I do think he will protect you by keeping a relationship with you under wraps for the first year or so.

If anything EVER happened to you….he wont let that happen.

The secrecy could be hard on you at first.

Watching more than a few women flirt shamelessly with your Kashi is beyond ROUGH.

Especially considering most of them are tough as nails ninja women with perfect bodies. You aren't used to feeling threatened by other people men or women, so you have a hard time learning how to deal with it.

Kakashi is always quick to remind you that he is serious about your relationship though.

He looks at you with a ferocity only seen by people who are no longer alive. His voice is low and serious when he gets close and tells you, “(Y/N) You are my entire life. I will never leave you. I promise I am yours until the day I die.”

After a few times of him promising you that he really is in love with you, you believe him and can be secure in his word.

As his girlfriend, you take his breath away.

The way you speak, move, sleep….

Even the way you casually conduct yourself at home and in public makes him more than proud to know who you are. Let alone get to go home to you.

Guy is the first one to catch on believe it or not. He notices Kakashi peaking over the top of his book at you as you walk down the opposite side of the street. He’s known Kakashi since they were kids, he puts a reassuring hand on your boyfriends shoulder and vows without spoken words to protect you when Kakashi can’t be there….and Kakashi understands. It helps him sleep just a little better knowing he has help.

Stargazing on a rooftop one chilly autumn night, Kakashi grabs your hand and proposes to you with a small silver ring, slightly ashamed for it’s lack of a stone.

“I want you to be my wife.” is all he says and you wrap your arms around him whispering in his ear “You have had my heart since the first day I met you…. And you always will.”

His heart melts into a puddle at the sound of you telling him he will have a wife. Finally have family that loves him this much.

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blackbat05 · 3 years

Text

Night talks and Dim Sum

Shangqi x Reader

A/N: Hey y’all! This is my first time trying to write a one-shot/fic on tumblr. I have an existing wattpad account where I have some stories published! It’s mainly DC (young justice) combined with hunger games so if you are a fan, do check out @Runnerpottermore! Anyways, I have no idea why I suddenly decided to write a fic after so long - maybe because I wasn’t going through the best of days and also watched the movie recently? I just love the whole cast in general and Mr Simu Liu just killed his role - so yeah! Before I ramble on, I hope you enjoy my fic that I came up with!

Genre: Fluff, PG13, platonic friendship that can maybe turn into something more?

Warning: None? Just maybe broken Mandarin and sweaty people?

Extra Note: Please be kind to me!🥺

‘Bye.’

I take a deep breath, moving the cursor to close the window. Another day was done. Leaning back against the office chair, I stare up into the celling before closing my eyes, taking in the conversation a few hours ago.

‘It’s difficult to change what has already been so ingrained into our childhood. But what you can do is ask - what is the part of yourself that you want to keep?’

Rubbing my temples from the simple yet complex question, I decided that it was time to hit the road and get some fresh air. It was 6pm, Shangqi and Katy were probably still at the hotel.

As dreadful as running sounded to many people, this was one of the days where I could just zone out and mull over the day. The feeling of my shoes pounding into the pavement, body slowly being covered by a sheet of sweat… it felt good. Turning into the last corner of the run, a light tap on my shoulder jolted me out of my little world.

‘Woah is just me!’ My sudden stop had almost resulted me barreling right into Shangqi’s equally sweaty frame. He gives me his signature boyish grin only to earn a smack on his shoulder.

‘干嘛!’ (gànmá) [‘What are you doing!’]

‘吓死我了!’ (xià sǐ wǒ le!) [‘You scared me!’] I retorted back, removing my headphones. ‘What are you doing here, I thought you still had work?’

‘We did, but our shift ended early so I thought I’ll get in a quick run.’

‘10km is quick?’ I look at his phone that was calculating the distance, brows raised. ‘You’re a beast.’

‘Ha ha, very funny. Enough about me, what’s got you out today? I thought you were taking a break?’ We walked side by side, towards the direction of a renowned dim sum stall. ‘Yeah…’ I dragged my words for a while, hesitating to continue. ‘Just needed to think some things through.’ Shangqi nods. That’s the thing I liked about him. He never forced me to tell him things that I didn’t want to. He would wait quietly until I was ready.

‘I don’t know if I’m even going in the right direction. I thought I was doing things right - getting the grades, making sure I understood what was being taught at school… I was so sure that I could help people if I put my mind to it. But these feelings of not being able to do more… I don’t even know my future as a social worker anymore.’ I bit my lips, kicking a stray pebble.

‘Hold up!’ Shangqi steps in front of me, gripping the sides of my shoulders. ‘What did you say?’ He asks me in mock disbelief. ‘I said I’m not a good-‘

‘Nope! The conversation before this has been void! Because the (Y/N) I know is an amazing person and social worker who helps these kids to become the better version of themselves.’ He waves towards the many young Asian-American kids running around merrily in the playground as if to make his statement. A small smile formed on my lips watching Shangqi’s exaggerated movements to the disapproval of an elderly man with wispy white hair. He seemed to have noticed the looks he was getting as he dropped his hands to the sides in embarrassment.

‘Look, my point is that not many people can do what you do. Putting people before yourself, how many people would do that in this world?’

I throw him a skeptical glance. ‘You’re doing it. You’re a literal superhero that stopped a mythical creature from destroying our world. Not that it hasn’t happened.’ Shangqi snorts, ��Sure. But hear me out. Who were the people that worked day and night to restore some order when the snap happened? Who made sure that these young kids weren’t afraid and reassured them that everything was going to be alright.’

He did have a point. Five years ago, the whole world was thrown into chaos. If I could forget something, it would be the chaos at the children and youth center on the exact day of the snap. Kids as young as four, crying uncontrollably for their missing parents. The older children who put on brave faces for their younger siblings but they too couldn’t make sense of the situation. The remaining social workers scrambling to attend to every need, every child. I was one of them. The sleepless nights, the constant worries - the social services were already overloaded, anymore pressure and the whole industry would collapse. I wanted to believe him but the doubts were becoming stronger by the minute.

Shangqi carefully stares at me as if analyzing my micro expression. ‘I know what I’m saying won’t change anything instantly. But what I do know is that we all have these moments of doubt, even me. I can’t offer you professional advice, but just like how Katy, my aunt and my mom were there for me when I needed them the most in Ta Lo, I’ll be here if you want to talk.’

‘You’re a good friend you know that right.’ My heart felt much lighter compared to the day.

‘Better than Katy?’

‘Don’t push it.’ I joked, eliciting laughter from both of us. Before we knew it, we arrived at the dim sum stall. As always, it was bustling with hungry customers. ‘Come on! Katy’s got a seat for us already, I’m starving!’ He opened the door for an young couple pushing a stroller.

‘Wait!’ Shangqi looks at me curiously. ‘I know we’re both sweaty but I think the situation calls for one.’ I gave a huge hug, ‘Thank you, that meant a lot to me.’

The sudden bear hug definitely threw the man off, but he to was glad for the heart to heart conversation. For more reasons than one.

‘Alright then! Who’s up for some char siew bao! I’m gonna inhale them - deserved it!’ I loudly declared my war against the dim sum, walking towards Katy who was enthusiastically waving at us.

Little did I know, there was a lot going on in Shangqi’s mind too.

A/N: Wew! That was long! If you’ve read it up till here, thank you for reading it! This idea really just popped out at the last minute so I’m not sure if it’s to y’all taste. Please do forgive me for my inaccurate translation - I am Chinese but like Katy my Mandarin is super rusty. Also whichever countries you come from, please give your social workers more recognition. They deserve it for a long time coming! Do give a comment or like if you wish! Just here to write and try and give simple joy to people who are such fans of Shangqi and the MCU in general.

#xu shangqi #shangqi imagine #shangqi x reader #mcu phase 4 #shang chi #Shang chi x reader #fluff #platonic #possibly suggestions of unrequited love?

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wandering-travesty · 3 years

Text

Off To The Races

Zeke’s life wasn’t supposed to be like this. His father would have a spontaneous brain aneurism if he saw the daily goings on of the younger Yeager’s household on his days off. Horrid amounts of smoking outside, snow or shine, day-drinking without a second thought, and lonely, not by choice. He had honest-to-god tried to live the life his father wanted for him. He married a woman straight out of law school and knocked her up a few months after. They raised that kid for a year then repeated the process. They lived, laughed, and loved for a few years, then, as a surprise to no one, the divorce came along. His wife had run off with a lump sum of money and started a new life out of state. He got left with two kids, substance abuse issues, and a law firm to run. He was stressed, depressed, and by the holiest powers above, was he horny.

Ignoring the horniness for a moment, everything changed when you came around. Every inch of his world brightened, almost like a light at the end of a tunnel. You gave him some form of hope, and reminded him that life wasn’t all doom and gloom. You were still in college, looking for some extra funds to help pay your tuition; a lawyer that doubled as a father of two was the perfect target. You had shown up in your prettiest outfit, almost as if you were showing off for him. Being the kind of man he was, Zeke couldn’t help but hire you. Some sweet, fetching little thing coming up to his decadent doorstep in a tiny little tennis skirt and begging to take care of his kids? That was something he could never turn away.

So, you became the official caretaker of Zeke’s little angels. You truly adored looking after them while their, admittedly handsome, father slaved away at his big, important law firm. You rang the doorbell right as the kids were waking up, Zeke greeting you at the door already dressed in one of his repulsively expensive suits. You talked over scones and coffee and made the kids just about anything they wanted. He would leave, and you would get the kids dressed and out the door with ample time to catch the bus. You’d clean the house, make yourself some lunch, play with the family dog. The golden retriever was just another cliche. But you still loved the mutt, especially since every family member loved him, too. You could tell because Zeke had named him after some long-dead baseball player, meaning he would be enamoured with the thing no matter what.

It was fun, picking up on little details about Zeke, or Mr. Yeager, as you called him. He loved baseball and would talk about it for hours on end if you let him, and he hated strawberry icecream for some unexplained reason. He was the face of success for his entire life, from being a star pitcher on his little league team back home to captain of the debate team in high school; he had never really failed at anything or gotten robbed of what he wanted. He was a winner in everything he had ever tried. He had mentioned how high-strung his parents were, and how they’d gone through a divorce of their own when he was young. He and his step-brother never got along that well, and had actually turned out to be very different people. His family life was anything but smooth, and he feared his kids would look back on their childhood in the same light. You guessed that’s why tonight was happening.

“Alright, I’m entrusting my children, dog, house, and painfully expensive belongings to you for the night.” He was dressed to the nines, hell, the tens. He wore an umber sport coat, mustard turtleneck sweater, a thick black belt, grey slacks, chestnut oxfords, and the most expensive golden watch you had ever seen. His flaxen hair shined perfectly in the low light of the entranceway; it was official: you wanted to fuck him. Rather, you wanted him to fuck you. You wanted him to fuck you stupid and make you squirt all over that pretty watch, and his even prettier face.

“I’ve got it covered, Mr. Yeager.” His youngest son wrapped his arms around your legs as the dog rubbed his head into your palm. “Knock ‘er dead!” You gave him your cheesiest smile and thumbs up. He chuckled at you as his eldest son grabbed your free hand.

“You’ve got this, Dad!” He cheered, starting to drag you to the living room.

“Thank you, Atticus. I’ll see you tomorrow.” He gave a weak smile, turning to leave through the large oak door. It was awful, how badly he wanted to stay there with you and the kids. He wanted to chase Atticus down the hall as the rest of you ran after him, laughing all the way. He wanted to put on some old, boring movie only he wanted to watch and feel your breath on his neck as you fell asleep just after the kids and dog sitting on the floor below you. He wanted to feel your warmth in his bed. He wanted to see what you looked like backed up against a wall. Heaving after an especially passionate kiss. With your legs over your head, screaming his name. The sweat dripping down your face as you came undone beneath him. The little whimpers you’d make as he pulled out of you and cradled you in his arms. He wanted you, not this random woman off of some shitty dating site. He didn’t really want the booze, or the men, or the women, or the money, or the white picket fence, or his father’s approval; he just wanted - no - he needed you. Your game of cat and mouse, seeing which playful “sweetheart” or coy little “Mr. Yeager” would be the one to tip you over the edge of more than friends.

“Zeke? That’s you, right?” The tall blonde woman in a sleek black suit walked towards him with an outstretched hand. She could’ve easily been a full foot taller than him. Interesting.

“Yes. Yelena, correct?” But she wasn’t you. He just wanted to get this night of false wining and dining over with so he could come home to you. You in his big, expensive house. Better yet, his big, expensive bed.

You sat and watched the clock after the kids went to bed. It ticked and tocked, back and forth, over and over. It had been about an hour since you’d put them down for the night. You couldn’t wait for Zeke to get home for much longer. Butterflies buzzed through your stomach when you heard the doorbell ring.

“Mr. Yeager?” You opened the door to the sight of your employer with his shirt halfway unbuttoned, glasses falling off his face, and hair an absolute bird’s nest.

“Hey, beautiful.” He purred, slumping onto your shoulder, trying and failing to be smooth. “What’s a pretty thing like you doing in my house, huh?” He looked up at you over the rim of his glasses. The way his eyes glimmered a dark shade of teal lit your entire body on fire. Feeling his full weight on top of you only made it spread farther.

“Babysitting your kids, for starters.” You maneuvered your bodies to have his arm wrapped around your shoulder as you dragged him back into the house. “Apparently I’ll be babysitting you, too.” You mumbled, just then realizing exactly how muscular he was. You sat him down on the leather couch and started to walk to the kitchen to get him a glass of water. You didn’t have much experience with alcohol, but you believed water helped with it somehow.

“Damn. Loving the view from back here, gorgeous.” He leaned forwards with his elbows on his knees, licking his chapped lips. You jumped at the sudden compliment. You couldn’t remember him being so…dirty before. You walked a little faster than you already were, wanting to get away from him before you made a stupid decision. You poured a tall glass of water, walking back to the couch where Zeke was now lounging, legs spread far enough to leave barely anything to the imagination.

“Hey there, doll. Got somethin’ for me?” He giggled, lowering his head from where he had been resting it. His eyes were something to behold, and the deep rooted confidence and downright cockiness behind them only served to make you shiver. You shuffled closer, a bit skittish at the sight of the beast before you.

“It’s just water.” You sat down on the table in front of him. “It’s supposed to help with your metabolism, I think.” Your voice was a higher pitch than usual, feeling an odd pressure in your throat every time you spoke.

“What a smart little thing you are.” He praised. It felt genuine, and you started to feel hotter. You handed him the glass, trying your best to avoid eye contact. He took the glass, and almost as if he had sensed your intentions, took your chin between his fingers and forced you to look into his deep, ocean eyes. He leaned back a bit, giving you a better view of his exposed chest. There was a light layer of golden hair overtop of his expansive chest, and it seemed to trail down the rest of his body. You wanted to find out if that was true. Still holding eye contact with you, he tipped the glass and send the water spilling down his shirt. You knew that wasn’t just drunken clumsiness, but a calculated measure to get in your pants.

“Whoops.” He said, eyes cold and emotionless as his words. “You better clean that up, sweetheart. We both know I can’t take care of myself in this state.” You moved closer to him, hands unsure of where they were going. You were shaking a bit, and you didn't have a towel on you. You decided the best course of action was to unbutton his shirt the rest of the way. You felt down his chest, gently tugging on his nipples. He let out a soft groan as you continued to feel him up.

“You’re gettin’ a little handsy there, baby. You want something from me?” He pet your hair as you moved further down on his chest. You kissed and gave kitten licks, appreciating every inch and curve of his muscular form. You couldn’t get enough of him, try as you might.

“I fuckin’ knew it.” He pulled you by your hair to force you to look at him.

“Filthy little harlot.” He squeezed you cheeks, forcing your mouth open. You looked confused until you felt a glob of spit hit your tongue. You swallowed like it was second nature.

“You’re just here for my dick, huh?” You continued to kiss and lick down his abdomen, savoring every ounce of him you could; the smell of cinnamon, menthol, and saltwater hit your nose, intoxicating you further and further the more you breathed him in. “I bet it’s all you think about. Especially when those fingers rub that pretty little cunt until you cum all over yourself.” You let out a whine, signifying exactly how right he was.

“Yeah.” You dragged your tongue up his six-pack, savoring the slightly salty taste. “Think about you every night.” You licked a stripe down the same line you had just gone up. “Only way I can get to sleep.” He smiled the warmest smile you had ever seen him produce. Such a sweet little thing for him, getting off to thoughts of him railing you silly in order to have a good night’s rest. Your submissive, horny mind was so focused on him you couldn’t get to bed without him. You were perfection in human form. Truly a goddess sent from above. He would worship you in the most degrading way possible.

“I knew you were dirty, I just needed to force you to show me.” He continued to pet your hair like you were some kind of beloved family pet. You felt so small under his touch; so fragile, as if one touch could blow you away forever. You loved the feeling more than life itself. You felt like you could never live without it again. Touching yourself while thinking about him wouldn’t do the trick; not after you had felt the real thing.

“That’s it, honey, kiss me like you mean it.” He teased, knowing exactly what was running through your head. Sure, he was no master of seduction, but he had bedded plenty before, and he knew exactly how talented he was. He had learned from years of experience; years you hadn’t yet lived. You would learn it all from him. Those little college boys he could smell on you every so often wouldn’t cut it anymore. He was meant for you, and you for him. He knew he already had you trapped, but playing with you was so fun. Poking and prodding and mocking you all while you worshiped him like he had hung the moon in the sky.

“You love this body, don’t you, slut?” He pulled your hair suddenly, earning a yelp that went straight to his aching cock. “You know, I’ve only been keeping in shape for you. I knew from the moment you saw me that was the main appeal, and lord knows I’d go through hell to keep you around.” That was true. He knew others would settle for mediocrity, but a flawless little angel like you deserved better than mediocre. You needed someone to match your talent, beauty, and wit. He didn’t believe he equaled you in anything but maybe wits, but still, he was good for you. At least, you seemed to think so, considering you were giving tiny kitten licks to the tip of his recently freed dick. The tip was red, swollen, and leaking a sinful amount of precum. You sucked it all up, taking the engorged head between your plush lips. You felt like heaven, but the ache in your pussy felt like hell. You slowly began to go the full length down his cock. Zeke was right: you had messed around with college boys before, but none were as big as him. Your gag reflex wasn’t prepared, causing you to choke and sputter on it. Zeke grinned slyly.

“Say my name, sweetie.” He wanted to treat you right, but it was so enjoyable to indulge his sadistic side.

“Mr. Yeager.” You choked out. You knew how much he enjoyed that title; the feeling of authority it brought him made him hard as a rock every time. He groaned in pleasure, sending shivers down your spine. That knocked him off his rhythm for a moment, but he was right back on you the minute he regained some sense of self.

“The kids are right upstairs, peacefully sleeping, while you choke on my dick like a dumb little slut.” The thought made you feel so dirty. You shifted on the ground, squeezing your thighs together and trying to get some friction. “And you do it so well, baby. I couldn’t ask for better.” He sighed.

“That’s it, pretty girl, don’t hurt yourself down there.” He slowly pulled you off his cock by your hair. He didn’t want to admit it, and really didn’t show any signs, but you had him on the verge of cumming down your throat. But he didn’t want his precious seed there. Hell no! He wanted you stuffed to the brim and properly bred.

“I’ve wanted you for so goddamn long, you don’t even know.” The look on tour face was something beyond pleasure or pain. It was a mix of both with a side of...fear? “What, scared of taking something this big, doll?” You shook your head.

“Don’t worry, daddy’ll get you nice and wet for him.” He slowly came to hover over you, lifting you up and sitting you down on the couch. He spread your legs, undoing the button of your shorts with his long, thick fingers, bringing his mouth to your zipper and pulling it down with his teeth. He pulled them down your legs, bringing his face to your core. You felt hot on his mouth and nose. He licked a wet stripe up your clothed core,

“God, you taste like honey, sweetie. I’m so fuckin’ lucky.” He pulled your panties to the side, relishing in the sight of your puffy pussy. You were beautiful in the murky yellow light of the room. You folds shimmered with slick and he could see your cunt clench around nothing, so obviously desperate for his dick. That’s right, his dick. Only his. From now on.

He dove into you, savoring your tangy flavor. Pussy was a taste all its own, each having new, intense, rich tastes he could barely describe. To be perfectly honest, Zeke was a sucker for a wet little cunt in his mouth, and you were the perfect subject. Every suck to your clit, every kiss and lick to your folds, every darting flick of his tongue into your aching little hole; it had you moaning and whimpering like a ditzy little slut. Your mind was hazy with ecstasy.

“Don’t get too loud now, dollface. Don’t wanna wake the kids now, do you?” His words brought you back to Earth, forcing you to remember you were being eaten out by a father of two. It felt so filthy to know you had been bringing up his kids, acting as a faux wife, and now you were being treated like one, eaten out of your mind and promised a thorough breeding.

“Not that I don’t believe you would get off on being watched. I bet you love that idea, huh?” You jolted at the words and the sensation of another kiss to your cunt. “It might sound a little sick, but I could invite my brother over, see if he has as good a taste as mine.” He’d be willing to invite Eren over for a test run of…you? You knew they didn’t get along, so it was surprising, but that only turned you on even more. Imaging them fighting over you like hungry wolves on the hunt. They’d ravish you without even thinking. If this was Zeke, held back, on his own, you could only yelp and whimper at what kind of monsters the two of them would be together.

“Nah, that little shit doesn’t deserve you.” He smirked into your sopping wet core. Eren never appreciated the finer things in life, still to young to understand the joys of pussy eating. No, he was more for the fuck and chuck kind of lifestyle. You deserved better aftercare than a point towards the door. “Some of the guys at my firm, however. Bet they’d turn you out real nice. They’re all just about as big and pent up as me. We could all show you a real good time." That would be about…three, four, even five of him? All fucking you at once with the same vigor and deep seated intensity. You head buzzed at the thought. "You’d like that, wouldn’t you, whore?” You couldn’t keep up with him in this state. You were completely fucked out without even being fucked at all. Before you knew it, you were cumming all over his gorgeous face and beard. He was taken slightly aback, but he licked it all up in five seconds flat. He was a professional.

“Answer me, doll.” He delivered a harsh slap to your thigh. He enjoyed the ripple it gave and the red mark his hand had left.

“Yes, Mr. Yeager.” You stuttered out, barely above a whisper. Torturing you would be fun, but not tonight. No, he needed to be thorough with your pleasure and ensure you would never leave his side again. He gave a few light slaps to your slippery pussy, making your thighs shake and mouth move without making a sound.

“That’s what I fuckin’ thought.” He slowly stood up, giving you a perfect view of the shining god before you. His body was something sculpted by the old masters; a true work of art. Before you could fully appreciate the image of perfection in front of you, he bent down just a bit, pushing your thigs back as far as they could go, squishing your tits under them. He enjoyed the way your pudgier parts stuck out, giving him more parts of you to pinch and suck on as he fucked into you. His was no doubt the biggest cock you’d ever taken, and it wasn’t easy to have inside of you at first. Your walls clamped down on him so tight it was almost painful. But as he slowly pushed in and out, pleasure began to overtake the pain and you started to loosen up just a bit.

“Just relax, sweetie. Daddy’s got you.” Of course he had a daddy kink. It made perfect sense, as did yours. Hearing him say that in that truly comforting tone made your head spin with pleasure.

"God, you are so fucking tight." He continued to fuck into you at a savage pace, not seeming to care if you screamed or cry, rather relishing in the fact that you were. You were so young and tight and sensitive, it drove him mad. He was sure he could never go a day without your pussy again.

"You fit me like a vice, sweetheart. You trying to milk me dry? Huh?" Your mouth was hanging open, drool spilling out. It gave him ample opportunity to spit in your mouth once again.

"Swallow it you filthy slut." He lightly tapped your face.

"This is exactly how I wanted you." You could barely hear him, blanking out at the intensity of his continuous pounding of your poor little cunt. "Been thinking about this for months."

"Might just knock you up, sweetie. You already take care of my brats so well, what's one more?" You squealed at the thought. He wanted you to have his babies. He wanted you to be his new, permanent play thing to fuck and fill up every night.

"Yeah. I wan' your babies." You slurred your words, inebriated by the feeling of his cock filling your tight little cunt. He gazed down at your fucked out form, finding a sick sense of pleasure in how far gone you were all thanks to him. You moaned far too loud for someone in a house full of kids. You couldn't hold back, he just felt too damn good.

"You gonna cum, little girl?" He had almost a mocking tone when he asked that. You nodded your head, squeezing your eyes shut. He kept up the pace, abusing your g-spot, not letting up for even a second. He set out to make you feel incredible; like the perfect little plaything he knew you to be, and he wasn’t going to let his slightly aged stamina get in the way.

"That's it, you look so pretty, baby. What a good little slut." He looked down at you with heated intensity. "My little slut." He continued his brutal pace almost as if you had never cum at all.

"Oh, 'd you think I'd quit just 'cause you finished? No fuckin' way." You squealed as he continued to thrust inside you, still drunk on the idea of being full of his cum. You wanted him more than you had wanted anything in your life.

"'M gonna make you squirt all over me. Ruin this nice, expensive couch." You were screaming his name at that point, unable to form a thought that wasn't Zeke and his perfect dick.

"Such a fuckin' cocktease all these months. This is what you get for it. Tummy full of my cum." He slowed his pace as he looked into your eyes with the intensity of a man drunk on desire.

"All those times you flipped your skirt up so I could see your cute little panties." He thrusted into you harder than he had before. "All those times you called me Mr. Yeager in that innocent tone that drove me up the wall." He thrusted harder than you had ever thought possible. You felt him hit your cervix. "Every time you acted like you didn't know what you were doing. Like you didn't know what I wanted." He continued to pound into you. You felt so full, so good.

"You're getting tighter, baby. You gonna squirt while daddy fills you up, huh?" His pace was brutal and you were seeing stars.

"That's it, pretty baby, cum all over me. Let me fill you up." He humped into you a few final times before shooting his load into your cunt. You screamed at the feeling of your cum squirting out of you as his cum squirted into you. You were so dizzy and so full. You were happy. You were safe and taken care of and filled to the brim by the man you loved most.

“Hey.” You saw Zeke’s stunningly handsome face look down at you. His cheeks were flushed, forehead sweaty, sculpted chest heaving. But his eyes were transfixed on you with a look so filled with love and passion it made you feel like you were floating. “How you holding up, princess?” That was a new name…not that you minded. “Didn’t go too rough did I?” He panted in between his gentle words, the main drawback of giving it your all.

“Actually.” You huffed a bit, just then realizing how difficult it was to talk, or move, or breathe. “Think you coulda’ gone harder.” He chuckled, the same look of complete infatuation lingering in his oceanic eyes.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“You sure?”

“I’m tougher than you’d think, old man.” He laughed at you, appreciating how you could still be the sweetest little thing he’d ever met after being pounded half to death.

“Alright, I’m not even thirty, you little minx.”

“Calling me a minx isn’t helping your case, Zeke.” His eyes lit up with recognition.

“First time you’ve called me that, angel.” He smiled like an idiot in love, because he was one.

“Maybe it’ll be the last, if you keep acting like such an animal around me.” You slapped his shoulder with as much strength as you could muster, which was basically none.

“Well, if you don’t like the rough treatment, how about I treat you like the perfect angel you are? Treat you to a nice, warm shower and a cuddle session with yours truly. How about that?” He gently rubbed your cheek, taking in how wonderful your afterglow was.

“Sounds nice.”

“Alright, let’s go, angel.”

“Okay, Mr. Yeager.” You giggled at how quickly his face darkened and lips tightened into a frown.

“Ever the tease, you are.” He carried you to his shower bridal style, no doubt a sign of things to come.

#aot smut #snk smut #zeke yeager smut #zeke jeager smut #zeke yeager x reader #zeke jeager x reader

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mldrgrl · 3 years

Text

Broken Things 1/24

by: mldrgrl Rating: varies by chapter, rated R overall Summary: The year is 1886, William Mulder owns a horse ranch in northern Texas. The widow of a neighboring landowner has something he wants. Notes: Please be aware that this fic will contain ‘off-camera’ references to violence and abuse of various kinds. I will not be tagging individual TWs on the chapters.

Prologue

Many years from now, when he tells the tales of his younger days, he will claim that this is the day that changed his life forever. If that horse hadn’t thrown a shoe, well then. His wife will roll her eyes at this, tell him that any number of events prior to that day had already changed his life forever. The decision to leave Massachusetts for the open prairie, for example, had changed his life forever. The fact that his father had sent him to live with his aunt in the countryside instead of keeping him in the city had changed his life forever. The pony he received for his birthday when he was a child had clearly changed his life forever.

All of that will hindsight one day. Right now, it’s just an ordinary Thursday, the 9th of September, 1886. The weather is mild, almost cool compared to the heat wave that had hit in the latter half of August. And William Mulder’s horse has thrown a shoe.

Chapter 1

Normally, Mulder (only his family ever called him William) sends his ranch hand, Melvin, to take care of small errands and menial tasks, but he hasn’t been to town in almost a month and he could use a change of pace. He hitches one of his more reliable horses to his wagon and takes one of the ones in training as well, one he’s just broken in, to see how he handles on the hour-long ride. Their first stop is Gray’s Blacksmith.

After tying the horses to the post, Mulder gives them both a good scratching about the neck for a job well done and receives a snort and whinny of appreciation. “Well done, boys,” he says. “Carrots and apples at home for both of you if you keep up the good work.”

The familiar sound of clanking and hammering and the crackle of fire greets Mulder as he steps into the open door of the blacksmith’s. He tips his hat to the striker, who nods a greeting. The blacksmith turns and nods as well.

“Mr. Gray,” Mulder says.

“Mr. Mulder,” the blacksmith answers, passing his tongs to his assistant and then removing his gloves to shake hands. “What can I do for ya?”

“Faithful Jenny’s thrown a shoe. Melvin’s fixing her up, but I figured it was a good time to pick up a crate of nails and shoes.”

“Come on back and take a look then. How’s business?”

“Doing well. We’re training up a half dozen draft horses for the postal service right now.”

“Is the rumor you pulled in a mustang a few weeks ago true?”

“Afraid so.”

“You ain’t got a broken neck far as I can tell, so you must be faring alright with him then.”

“You can see him for yourself when I take this cart out to the wagon.”

“You brung him with ya?”

“I did.”

“I’ll be.”

Mulder feels a surge of pride when the blacksmith comes out to admire the horse. He slides the crate of shoes and nails into the back of the wagon and then shows off his friendship with the four-legged beast by rubbing his belly. The horse scratches the ground with his front hoof and shakes his head.

“You sure got a way, Mr. Mulder,” Mr. Gray says. “If you got any stock you’re looking to sell I heard there’s a new homesteader a ways south that was interested.”

“I’m on my way to the mercantile. I’ll be sure to ask John.”

The two men shake hands once again before Mulder gets back in his wagon. He smiles to himself when the blacksmith watches him leave. He’s made a name for himself in the short while he’s been here breaking and training up horses. Folks in the area have said time and again that there isn’t a horse he can’t tame, that it’s almost downright spooky the way he seems to be able to talk to them.

There’s a man being waited on in the mercantile that Mulder doesn’t recognize, probably someone just passing through. He waits for John Byers to finish with the customer, browsing the Montgomery Ward & Co. catalog at the end of the counter.

“Mulder,” John says after ringing the man up at the till. “It’s good to see you.”

“You too, John.” He pulls a shopping list from his pocket and unfolds it. “I’m sure you’re better at translating Melvin’s chicken scratches than me at this point.”

“I believe I can manage.” John chuckles and takes the shopping list. He pulls a crate down and begins to collect items off the shelves and William goes back to the catalogue, thumbing past the illustrations of ladies’ garments to find menswear.

“If I put in an order for denim trousers for me and the boys you think they’ll be in by winter?”

“I’d say it’s likely.”

“Mr. Gray mentioned there were some new homesteaders interested in horses.”

“He must mean Mr. Campbell. It’s oxen he’s after, I believe.”

“If you hear otherwise, send him my way.”

“I’ll do that. I suppose you heard about your neighbor?”

“What neighbor is that?”

“Jack Willis.”

“Haven’t heard a thing. What about him?”

“He spent all of Saturday night at the saloon in a poker game and was found dead in a ditch just outside of town on Sunday morning.”

“Robbed?”

“I should actually say he spent all Saturday night losing in a poker game and downing whiskey like water. I heard he stumbled his way into that ditch of his own accord and met an untimely demise.”

“I only met him the once, but that doesn’t surprise me much. Far be it for me to speak ill of the dead, but the man had a disagreeable disposition. He seemed like the type to get himself into trouble.”

“Well, the bank is soon to be after his widow. I’ve heard he’s in arrears. I’m actually surprised the Sheriff didn’t stop on at your place on his way out there to tell her about her husband’s death.”

“Didn’t know he had a widow. And you know Sheriff Doggett, he’s all business.”

“My Susannah saw them together, he and his wife, the day they passed through looking for land, and you know Susannah, she was beside herself at the notion of another woman come to town, but then no one’s seen hide nor hair of her since.”

“I still regret having been back east when Old Man Goodwin passed. I’ve had my eye on that land for quite some time.”

“Maybe she’ll sell it to you.”

Mulder rubs at his chin in thought. “You say the bank is about to repossess?”

“That’s the rumor. I don’t think Mr. Skinner would relish evicting a new widow, but there probably isn’t much he can do if the mortgage is late.”

“I suppose it couldn’t hurt to take a ride out to pay my respects and assess the situation. Thank you, John.”

Byers nods and gestures to the items laid out on the counter. “I’ll have John Jr. load the cart for you. Would you like this on your account?”

“I’ll square up everything now, but go ahead and order those trousers.”

The hour ride back home gives Mulder time to think. He’s in a position to offer the Willis widow a handsome sum for his neighboring acres. The one and only time he’d met Jack Willis he was immediately soured on trying to form any kind of friendship with him. The man had been downright surly and abrasive and he sure hopes the widow is more neighborly.

Melvin takes over the wagon when Mulder arrives home and shows him the new shoe on Faithful Jenny. The older man is at least a foot closer to the ground than Mulder and proudly displays a life-long love of hearty biscuits around his middle, but there’s no better right-hand man that Mulder could ask for. He’s foreman and farrier, counselor and cook. There isn’t anything Mulder doesn’t trust him with. As they unload the wagon together, he tells him about what he heard from John Byers.

“Well, there’s no harm in asking,” Melvin offers as advice. “If’n the bank really is after her, she might be grateful for the offer. You should probably get out there as soon as possible in case anyone else might be sniffin’ around for them acres.”

“That’s what I was thinking.”

“You know if’n I’d heard about Bob Goodwin any sooner I’d have snatched up them acres for you before I could even send a wire.”

“I know, it’s not your fault. Do me a favor, old man, tack up Blondie while I try to make myself presentable.”

“That could take hours. Days even.”

“Decades, in your case. If it’s even possible.”

The two men laugh over their gentle ribbing of each other and Mulder claps Melvin on the shoulder. He parts from his friend to go wash his face, comb his hair, and put on a fresh shirt. His horse is saddled and ready to go when he comes back out.

“Good luck,” Melvin tells him.

A narrow, slow-moving creek divides Mulder’s property from the Willis widow’s land. It’s one he’s crossed many times when Old Man Goodwin was his neighbor. He knows where the shallowest spot is to lead the horse and where the shrubs are too thick and have to be avoided. He tries not to daydream about what he’ll do with an expansion, but he passes the spot he’d like to clear out for a better corral and where he’d like to add another stable and it’s hard not to hope.

The old sod house that Old Man Goodwin had slapped together is still standing, though it looks to have seen better days. The roof needs patching and the walls are crumbling in spots. He dismounts Blondie when he’s still a few yards away and leads the horse over to the post he knows is at the side of the house. The nearby trough which is usually full of water is empty. The chickens that were usually clucking and underfoot are nowhere to be seen.

Mulder knocks lightly on the clapboard door and moments later a woman with the reddest hair and the bluest eyes he’s ever seen answers.

↭

Katherine is expecting the knock when it comes, though it’s sooner than she thought it would be. In the days since her husband’s death, she’s racked her brain for a solution to her current predicament, but has come up empty handed. She doesn’t delay in answering the door. She may be on the verge of being destitute and homeless, but she’ll face it with dignity.

“Uh, Mrs. Willis, I presume?” the man asks. He stammers a bit but he has an easy, congenial smile that catches her a little off guard. She’d been expecting the Sheriff she’d met on Sunday, but perhaps the bank manager in this town takes care of evictions.

“Mr. Skinner, I presume?” she finally replies.

The man chuckles and removes his hat. “Ah, no Ma’am,” he says, running his hand through his hair. “I’m afraid I have a bit more hair than our dear Mr. bank manager.”

“Oh.” She should have known. The bank managers she’s had dealings with in the past were stuffy and pinched. This man is far too rugged and handsome to be a bank manager.

“William Mulder.” He holds out his hand to her and when she gives him hers, he bows slightly and brings it to his mouth, brushing his lips lightly across her knuckles. Embarrassed, she pulls her hand back and closes it into a fist to hide her dirty and calloused palms from him.

“Is there something I can help you with?” she asks.

“I know we haven’t met before, but I happen to be your neighbor just to the south. I heard about your husband and I’ve come to pay my respects.”

“I see. Would you...care to come in, then?”

“Thank you.”

He has to bend to step through the low-frame of the door. She has no candles, but there’s enough light from the open door and the unpatched holes in the walls that it’s unnecessary. She watches him look the place over and she can tell he’s not impressed by the shabbiness of it all.

“I’m sorry I don’t have anything to offer you,” she says.

He smiles politely. “That’s alright, Ma’am. I came to be neighborly, but there is also a matter I wanted to discuss regarding this land.”

“Oh?” Fear grips her suddenly. He may not be the bank man, and he may not be the sheriff, but he could be another kind of lawman. Even if he was telling the truth that he was her neighbor, he could still be there to turn her out, or worse yet, remove her to debtor’s prison. Unconsciously, she begins to tremble.

“Mrs. Willis?” he asks. “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” she answers, pulling the tattered shawl draped over her shoulders a little tighter across her chest. “A chill is all.”

He looks around again. “You’ve no chair to sit on?”

“No.”

“Would you like to come back outside? Perhaps it will be warmer. You could sit on my horse.”

The absurdity of the offer makes her laugh and eases her anxiety somewhat. He bites his lower lip almost shyly and tips his chin down as he turns the hat over in his hands again. She stares at his mouth, thinking about how the slight overbite he has seems to suit him well. She notes other things too, in the silence. Like how his beard is well-trimmed and his nails are clean. He presents himself as a cowboy, but she knows a city man when she sees one.

“Um, Mrs. Willis, I…”

She flinches at the name. “Katherine,” she says.

“I’m sorry?”

“I’d prefer you call me Katherine.”

He cocks his head a little to the side and smiles. “Kate, the prettiest Kate in Christendom,” he murmurs.

She can’t help but lift her right eyebrow. It used to irritate her husband immensely when she pulled faces, as he called it. “Rather Kate the Curst,” she replies.

His eyes widen and seem to brighten. “You know Shakespeare?”

“You look surprised.”

“No, no, it’s just...I haven’t had much opportunity to discuss the Bard out here. Apologies for the Taming of the Shrew reference, but whenever I come across a Katherine, I can’t help but make the association. Especially when it’s not altogether untrue.”

She feels the heat rise to her cheeks with the compliment that she knows is entirely unwarranted. She was never very pretty. Her mother used to complain about how wild and curly her hair was when she was a child, not to mention the dreadful freckles across her nose and cheeks. It may have been quite some time since she’s been in the presence of a looking glass, but she doesn’t need one to know that her appearance is lacking.

“I suppose I could have just as easily been a Viola or an Ophelia,” she says, avoiding his flattery.

“Hopefully not a Lady MacBeth.”

“No.” The conversation stalls momentarily, but then she wets her lips and tightens her shawl again. “You said there was something you came to speak with me about?”

“I was away on some business when Old Man...ah, that is, when Mr. Goodwin, the previous owner of your land, passed on. I’d been eyeing this parcel for some time and had been planning to offer Mr. Goodwin a sum to sell it to me. I’d like to make you that same offer.”

“Ah.” She closes her eyes and chuckles mirthlessly for a brief moment. “I’m afraid I can’t take that offer.”

“Have you sold to someone else?”

“No, but I’m not in a position to sell. My husband leased this land and I have every reason to doubt he ever made good on the rent. He drank most of the money and gambled what was left of that.”

“I see.”

“I’m just biding my time now until the bank comes to collect and turn me out.”

“Do you have people back...wherever it is that you're from?”

“Virginia.”

“It’s not but a few days ride to Fort Worth, I could send a wire to someone for you.”

“You would do that?”

“Of course.”

“No.” She shakes her head slowly and sighs. “There’s no one back home, but thank you.”

He shifts his feet and tries to speak, but he says nothing. He looks dumbfounded in a way that almost makes her feel sorry for him.

“Was that all?” she asks.

“Ma’am,” he stammers. “Mrs. Willis...Katherine...I can’t...I can’t…”

She doesn’t know what compels her to do it, but she reaches out and puts her hand over his where it grips the brim of his hat. He falls silent and stops his fidgeting. She squeezes his hand lightly and lets her fingers rest against his wrist for a few moments before she takes it away.

“Since you seem familiar with the bank man,” she says. “I’m sure you’ll get your wish soon enough.”

“But…”

“Good day to you, Mr. Mulder. Thank you for coming.”

#i wrote this #broken things #chapter 1 #AU #MSR

108 notes · View notes

d-andilion · 3 years

Text

again

febuwhump day 21 (alt. 7): time travel

(geraskier, established relationship, time loop, canon-typical gore, temporary character death, 985, ao3 link in notes)

Jaskier thinks he might be losing his fucking mind.

This makes forty-six times, he thinks. It’s getting harder to keep track, but he’s almost sure that he’s lived this very day forty-six times. Again, and again, and again, and he can’t figure out where he’s going wrong.

Every morning when he wakes up, he almost forgets for a moment. He keeps his eyes shut and he can pretend for a bit that this is a new day. But it never lasts. He lays there in his warm bed for no more than a handful of minutes before Geralt’s lips find his neck and long hair tickles his chest and arms wrap him up to hold him close.

And every morning, he wants to be happy. Happy to be so loved. But how can he when he knows what he knows?

He knows that this perfect morning will end and they’ll be forced to leave the room. He knows that breakfast will be shit, but Geralt won’t mind because someone will come up with a job and a hefty purse for it. He knows that they’ll spend the day at the market stocking up for their departure after the job is done. He knows that Geralt will surprise him with the little silver pocket charm Jaskier fawned over the day before, a delicately crafted wolf no larger than a thimble; "it’s meant to bring you luck," he'll say.

Jaskier knows that Geralt will leave for the job at sunset. And he knows that he won’t come back. A traveler will come into the tavern and announce to everyone that he’s just come across the most horrid scene–a man with white hair gored to death in the woods. Then the world will start to spin and before Jaskier knows it, he’ll be in bed again.

Jaskier has tried everything.

He’s begged Geralt not to go, but he won’t be swayed, refusing to let such a large sum pass them by. He promised that Jaskier had nothing to worry about and that he would be back soon. Promised to buy them a long stay in the next city with his earnings.

He’s convinced Geralt to leave town early, but it didn’t do any good. If they could avoid the contractor downstairs and get away, the world still spun when nightfall came. Whatever curse this was could not be escaped by running.

He’s gone on the hunt with Geralt, but there was nothing he could do. Just watch and wait and cradle Geralt’s head in his lap as he bled to death.

Telling Geralt what’s going on doesn’t make any difference. They can never work out what’s causing the loop and Jaskier still wakes up in the same damn bed. Nothing ever helps, no matter what he does or where he goes, he ends up reliving the worst day of his life over and over.

The last go was particularly unpleasant. Jaskier woke up in bed, same as always, but he felt like he was coming apart from the inside out. Geralt barely touched him, but it was enough to tear through whatever strength he had left in him. He burst into complete hysterics, unable to form a single coherent word.

Geralt let him curl up in his lap and sob into his chest. He gave up asking what the matter was after a while. Jaskier did try to tell him, if only to stop him from looking so stricken with worry and fear, but any attempt to put the previous forty-four days into words reduced him to a puddle again.

He eventually cried himself out and he was so exhausted that he let Geralt get up to find him something to eat and drink. He fell asleep while he was away and roused to a knock at the door. It was the inn-keeper. They’d heard screams coming from the forest, a traveler attacked by some sort of beast. Geralt went to help. He didn’t come back.

Jaskier woke up in bed again. He’s still enjoying the handful of minutes where he can pretend that it’s a new day. His eyes are open this time, staring up at the ceiling. He feels knuckles brush along his jaw and turns his head towards them.

It’s always sunny, these mornings. No inkling of the dark things to come. Geralt’s eyes are so gorgeous when the sunshine hits them right, almost molten the way they glow. He would blush if Jaskier said so, then shove a pillow in his face and insist that he does not blush.

Jaskier reaches out and brushes a thumb under one of those eyes. Maybe he can convince Geralt to stay in bed today. The world will surely spin come the night, but he could have today. Geralt covers Jaskier’s hand with his own and stills its movements.

“Alright?” he asks softly.

Jaskier lets out a shaky breath. He’s never been less alright in his entire life. He feels no saner now than he did the last time they lived through this morning, but he knows he won’t fall apart the way he did before. He had his moment of weakness.

“If I asked you to stay here in bed with me all day today, would you?” He wishes his voice was steadier.

Geralt sighs the way he does when he wants to say no gently. Before he can speak, Jaskier cuts in with a whispered, pleading “Please?”

He must look as weak and weary as he feels. Being pitiful has never once worked Geralt, but something must have swayed him this time because, after a long pause, he says, “Okay.”

Jaskier lets his eyes close and breathes a sigh of relief. Next time, he’ll get back to trying to solve this. He’ll gather his wits and stop at nothing until they see a new day dawn. But this time, on the forty-sixth go, he will rest.