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nehswritesstuffs · 2 years

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Drashig Steaks and Shortstack Pancakes

*SLAMS OPEN DOOR* BOOM BABY!

This series is officially going to be called Aliens in Logueton. The original with its overly-long name is here ([FFN]/[AO3]).

6448 words; should I be apologizing? Yes. Will I be apologizing? No; using material I couldn’t fit into the prior one of these (and I couldn’t even fit the rest of that in, so there’s likely going to be another one of these at some point); this thing doesn’t want to fcking end, so I’m ending it so I can post it and get it off my to-do list wtf

Drashig Steaks and Shortstack Pancakes

Luffy was given a choice: drift in the time vortex on minimal auxiliary power or let the crew chill in Logueton for a bit. Three guesses as to what he picked. [One Piece AU in a Doctor Who-like setting]

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

Cooking wasn’t just Sanji’s job or his life, oh no. It was always so much more poetic than that. It was a passion, a calling, something that he was made for—it was, essentially, his place in the universe. There were so many things about it that made the craft a rewarding one, tickling his senses nearly every time.

The sigh of satisfaction when a dish delighted.

That little gasp of relief when someone hungry ate their fill…

…or when someone truly hungry realized they were not imagining things.

A peal of laughter from good friends relaxed over good food.

“Sanji! I want more meat!”

…and yet, sometimes, the spell was broken.

Milling about in the kitchens of the Thousand Sunny, Sanji had found that it was one of the most well-stocked and well-prepped kitchens he had ever worked in. It had to be, considering that the ship’s captain was a living black hole, whose stomach must have been connected to a fucking pocket dimension. He wasn’t entirely sure of the mechanics of it all, but it allowed him to pull open the fridge, start going on whichever meal, and keep going until he didn’t have to for that particular round.

“Keep your shirt on, Luff,” he scowled. “I’m starting to think that aliens abduct cows just to feed you.”

“Now why would they do that? The farts alone are enough to kill.” Usopp cringed when Sanji glared at him, knowing that he was on thin ice. “I mean… wouldn’t there be something a bit more economical to feed Luffy with? Like the innards of a quasar?”

“Jury’s out,” Nami quipped, sipping at her coffee. Sanji came over with another tray full of… steaks and set them down on the table, which Luffy immediately started attacking. Why did they sear purple? He wasn’t sure he wanted to know. “Hey, aren’t we down a few people?”

“Oh, don’t worry about them, Nami dear,” Sanji offered. “Franky enlisted Jinbe and Mosshead’s help to do something with the thruster system—they’ll be eating when they’re done, which shouldn’t be too much longer.”

“They better hurry up,” Luffy said, mouth full. “These steaks are great!”

“Swallow your food before you talk!” Chopper scolded. The Physician pouted sourly. “Talking with your mouth full is not only rude, but with the way you eat, it increases your chance of choking exponentially!”

“Expo… what now?”

“It means ‘by a lot’,” Brook translated.

“Oh…” Luffy shrugged and continued eating, being a veritable vacuum, until the overhead lights hummed as they powered down, leaving only the red auxiliary lights. “Whoa! What happened?!”

“I get the feeling we’re going to be finding out very soon,” Robin smirked, flipping a page in her book. Sanji, Nami, and Usopp all stared at her as she counted down on her fingers, not even pausing her reading.

Three, two, one, aaaand, point towards the door.

“This is super-not-good,” Franky wailed as he entered the kitchen. Jinbe and Zoro were both trailing close behind, the three covered in grime and sweat from the heavy lifting of machinery they had been doing. “The thruster’s shot and I’m going to need to construct a new one by hand.”

“What does the thruster have to do with the lights?” Nami deadpanned.

“It doesn’t,” Zoro replied, cutting Franky off. Sanji was honestly too busy having his brain short out due to the samurai’s glistening abs and pecs to stop him from going directly into the fridge and pulling out a protein shake, which he downed half of before continuing. “Pervert here just severed the cable while we were breaking the ship.”

“Why are you so mean to me this week, Zoro-bro?”

“I’m just stating facts.” The lump of moss shrugged noncommittally before chugging the rest of his shake. “I don’t even know what all this shit is and I know it’s broke.”

“It seems as though we might be stuck for a little while, at the least,” Jinbe conceded. “There might be enough left in the auxiliary for me to get us to Nami and Sanji’s Logueton… otherwise… we might be stranded in the space-time vortex.”

“Ugh—it’s hard enough getting around in this thing,” Nami groaned, “so the last scenario I want is to be stranded in it. We’re headed to Logueton.”

“Nami, darling, isn’t that for the captain to decide?” Sanji asked warily.

“Your dad said he was looking for a bit of extra help, and it’ll be good to let some of these goons run around and touch grass,” she shrugged. She glanced over at Luffy, his cheeks full of questionably-sourced steaks, and gave him her most winning smile. “What do you say, Captain? Drift in the vortex with the auxiliary power as an emergency supply without knowing what the consequences will be, or hang out in Logueton?”

The stars in the Time Lord’s eyes made Sanji want to weep openly.

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

“You have to be fucking kidding me.”

Zeff looked at his “extra help” lined up in the empty dining room and resisted the urge to take his son out back and strangle him; finish the job he should have done a good, what, decade or so ago at this point. Taking on a couple teenagers from the local high school for a few weeks would have been fine… but this…

“You need a bit of extra help, which you said as much the other day, while trying to straighten this place up for your visit from the magazine editors next month,” Sanji said plainly. It wasn’t as even though he had brought only idiots before his foster dad for inspection. There was Luffy, yeah, and Chopper and Usopp and Brook, but Robin had also volunteered, insisting it would be “fun”.

“I know what I said, but did you really expect me to say yes to this group of hellions?!”

“Uh… pardon me…? Mister Zeff…?”

“Give me three good reasons, Long Nose, why I don’t go and murder you all where you stand in my restaurant’s self-defense because no court would convict me.”

“Well, I was just gonna say that… we can still hear you.” Usopp squirmed uncomfortably under the pressure of the older man’s glare. “Also, if you really want, we can just make sure one of us is on Luffy Duty while the rest of us actually do work. It’s kind of what we do normally.”

“…and where are the rest of you little shitheads?”

“Nami said she had other work to do, and Franky has Jinbe and Zoro helping him with the Sunny!” Chopper offered. “I might have to go with them if they need a bit more muscle.”

“…and why might that be?” Zeff scowled. Chopper transformed into Heavy Point, becoming much taller, bulkier, and human-like. “Ah, that’s right. You can do that. Because why the fuck not.”

“Compliments will get you nowhere with me, asshole,” Chopper blushed. Zeff side-eyed Sanji, ready to skip the “taking out back” part of the inevitable infanticide. Was it still infanticide if the infant in question was a dumbass in his early twenties that was making him lose his hair and his temper?

Well, at least it wasn’t the directionless history lesson capable of making his disaster-bi of a son burn water simply by walking past him.

“They fuck anything up and it’s coming out of your inheritance,” he threatened.

“You wouldn’t dare, shitty geezer.”

Oh, he definitely dared.

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

As it turned out, it seemed as though the help the rest of the Straw Hats offered the Baratie proprietors was falling in line with expectations.

Usopp, Chopper, and Brook were… okay. They weren’t stellar, but they didn’t break everything they fucking touched. That was Luffy’s expertise. Robin was amazing, however, as the Historian’s powers allowed her to sprout parts of her body everywhere and anywhere. They really helped her when it came to reading multiple books and papers at once, but also meant that she could wash dishes, dry and stack them, wash veggies, and do a bunch of other minutia all while sitting calmly in the corner with tea and a book. That only really left…

“Will you get that out of your mouth?”

Feeling more like he was watching over a toddler than a multidimensional cosmic entity, Sanji shoved his hands in his pocket and watched as Luffy divested the (compostable, at least) plastic bowl from his mouth and reached his arm over towards the trash bin, letting it drop with a soft paft. They were in a spacious park in the suburbs, where the entire crew was enjoying the morning off—a benefit of the Baratie only being a dinner place. Even those who were supposed to be working on the ship were there, because they weren’t going to get anywhere by letting one part of the crew have fun while the rest of them toiled away… and besides, they could help wear Luffy out so he could cause as little damage as possible later.

“I know you’re not Human, but usually omnivores stick to eating… you know… edible things.” He let the smoke from his cigarette leech from his mouth and nostrils, wondering how he hadn’t gone through the entire pack already. “What are you anyhow?”

Luffy shrugged and Sanji repressed the urge to scream. “Never really thought about it that much, you know?”

“No; can’t say I share the sentiment.”

Luffy shrugged at that and jettisoned himself over to where Usopp, Chopper, Franky, and Brook were all playing with a soccer-football. Nami was relaxing nearby, with Robin sitting next to her watching the antics. Jinbe was going through some Silur-kwon-do kata with… sweet fuck…

How in the hell was he supposed to concentrate on Luffy Wrangling when Zoro was shirtless and sweaty out in the open? It was a distraction bordering on unacceptable levels of cruelty.

So distracting, even, that the now-errant soccer-football connected with his face, knocking his cigarette to the ground and giving him a mild case of whiplash.

“Sanjiiiiii, over here!” Luffy whined, windmilling his arms around to get the blond’s attention. Sanji kicked the ball back over to his friends and looked at the pavement, mourning the loss of the remainder of his cigarette. He only looked up again when he heard a familiar chuckle.

“Wasn’t that long ago you would have been able to kick that out of mid-air, without even looking,” Nami noted. Sanji cursed his rotten luck—she saw.

“I’m trying to think of how we’re going to corral the captain while everyone’s working tonight,” he lied.

“Don’t insult me—I’ve known you long enough to know how to catch one of your fibs.”

“You wound me, my darling,” he whined. He tried not to steal glances over towards Zoro, hoping that possibly, eventually, maybe, the fact he was right next to the stout Sea Devil would help detract from the scene, considering Jinbe was not his thing by far… fuck, yeah, it didn’t help at all. Sweaty marimo make brain go brrrrrrrrr…

“Hello—Earth to Sanji,” Nami chuckled, snapping her fingers in front of his face. He was catapulted back to their conversation. “You’re hopeless.”

“I have eyes,” he grumbled. Sanji allowed Nami to turn his body so his back was fully facing Zoro, making it so that they were instead looking at the ball-based antics. “Don’t punish me because I have eyes.”

“Playing is not a punishment, now get out there,” she laughed, pushing him firmly in the middle of his back. He stumbled slightly as he joined his crewmates out on the grass, eventually taking possession of the ball and turning it into a game of keep-away. Before long, the others were just standing there staring at him and his disturbingly good footwork.

“You never told us you could legit play,” Usopp noted carefully.

“Zeff had me playing football all through school,” Sanji shrugged, dribbling the ball casually. “Did that, did swim team in the off-season, spurts of capoeira and savate to expend the rest of my energy and hormone-driven aggression, you know… nothing special.”

“He was scouted,” Nami announced from the sidelines. “Idiot still doesn’t think his cooking career could be accomplished after retirement, but noooo… he could be playing for East Blue City F.C. right now. Could be ranked internationally in whichever sport he wants. The sheer amount of tournaments I sat through for the sake of friendship!”

“I’m not that good,” he scowled. From the vantage point he had, he could see Zoro still going through the katas with Jinbe… but also… “Oi, Luff, what the fuck is that…?”

There, raging as it emerged from the sandy ground, was a giant serpent-like creature that let out a deafening roar.

“It looks tasty!” Luffy marveled. “Sanji?! Do you think you can cook it for lunch for me?!”

“I told you I can cook anything, Luff, but do you really want that…?” Luffy looked back and forth between the creature, then the cook, then the creature, and so on and so forth. “Fine… don’t come crying to me if it’s too tough for you to just swallow whole.”

With that, Sanji took the ball he had just been dribbling around his friends and sent it flying, crashing into the serpentine creature and snapping its neck. Zoro looked at the downed carcass, to Sanji, impressed.

“You know,” he called out, sheathing the single sword he was able to draw before the creature was dispatched, “I can’t even be mad. That was kind of hot.”

“Oh, I did not need to hear that,” Usopp whined.

“Just because you’re pining for a girl on another world doesn’t mean the rest of us have to be celibate,” Sanji notes. Usopp sighs in defeat—by all technicalities, the other man was right.

“…and it doesn’t mean that I needed to hear that either,” Nami said. She held out her hand towards Zoro, palm up. “A hundred beri.”

“Witch! For what?!” Zoro barked.

“Alright then: two hundred.”

The man never did know when to quit when he was ahead.

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

Drashig meat, as it turned out, is a wonderfully-marbled, exquisitely textured, delicately flavorful meal that brought the idea to Sanji’s brain to try and grab some at the next galactic market they stop in, but for the time being they were going to have to deal with a picnic barbecue on the shore of a pond that sat within the border of the park. Luckily, they had other food with them for their lunch, which made the addition of the drashig meat seem rather natural.

So when UNIT showed up, it only made sense that certain individuals got defensive.

“Did you just seriously eat all that…?” Tashigi asked, staring at the pile of bones that was most of the drashig. “Those things are supposed to be able to feed an entire colony port for a week.”

“…or our captain for a light lunch,” Brook quipped. He, of all the crew, was the least concerned that there were a bunch of paramilitary troops now wandering around, pointing guns and trampling the grass. It was probably the lack of flesh for those guns to aim at. “I’m sure our cook still has a few more slabs to grill up, if you think you are interested in joining us.”

“No thank you,” Smoker grunted. He scowled in irritation at Luffy, who kept on eating without a care in the world. “I want to know who let this thing loose.”

“I dunno, but whoever it is missed out,” Luffy stated. The glanced over at the two UNIT officers and grinned, patting the bit of picnic table next to him. “Come on! Sanji’s cooking is the best!”

“If we wanted to eat, we would have shown up at the restaurant tonight,” Smoker deadpanned. “I need to know if you saw who in the hell released a non-native Big Savage creature onto a vulnerable extraterrestrial ecosystem forty minutes ago.”

“That long? You’re losing your touch, Smoke-bro,” Franky smirked from behind his pop can. “Used to be we just set foot off the Sunny and you were up our asses.”

“I can dig up some old arrest warrants, if you’d like,” Smoker threatened. Franky rolled his eyes and chuckled, which caused Smoker to pinch the bridge of his nose in irritation. “How are we the same age and yet you’re so…”

“Super…?”

“He was going to say the exact opposite of that,” Sanji cut in. He placed the freshly-grilled drashig cuts on the table, with Luffy not missing a beat. “Now if you pardon us, officers, we have a meal to eat and clean up after if we want to get back to the city proper in time for our work shifts… unless you want to keep harassing us outside of your technical jurisdiction.”

“The whole damn planet is our jurisdiction, not just Logueton,” Smoker growled. “Are you trying to tell me to bug off?”

“No: he’s telling you to fuck off,” Zoro translated helpfully, mouth still full of food. Sanji kicked him in the shoulder. “What?! It’s true. There’s a difference.”

“I got one! Assault on a Galactic Noble!” Tashigi squeaked, bringing up the holographic function on her mobile. It contained a headshot of Zoro with a murderous look on his face, back when he had two working eyes.

“Shit,” Zoro hissed, drawing his swords. He was just barely armed when Smoker came at him, attacking him with his jitte. Most of the officer’s body was now made of smoke, hovering over the picnic table in order to get a better reach of his prey.

“I don’t care if it is a fucking childish pretense—it’s enough for me,” he grinned around his pair of cigars. “All of you are coming with me.”

“Fucking make us, lap dog,” Zoro growled. He forcibly pushed Smoker away, causing him to crash into some of his soldiers. Luffy cracked his knuckles, Sanji crouched into a fighting stance, and Usopp cupped his hands to his mouth, shouting:

“THE GIRLS ARE FIGHTINGGGG!”

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

In the end, they didn’t exactly make it on-time for the shift, but at least they made it before the rush.

“Fucking hell—you lot look like you went through a warzone to get here,” Zeff said, furrowing his brow. He stared as his son stood pitifully at the back entrance to the kitchen, Eggplant and Friends all looking equally ragged. Except Robin. She seemed fine… stable, at the very worst. “Where’s the Intergalactic Stomach?”

“He’s grounded,” Sanji said, sounding as fucking beat as he looked.

“He might have beaten up a couple of UNIT officers and their subordinates, and gotten the rest of us dragged into it,” Usopp cringed. He immediately got some ice out of the freezer, wrapped it in a towel, and applied it directly to his swollen eye. “That was horrible.”

“Moss-brains started it,” Sanji justified. “Luffy made it worse, and now he’s under lock and key, playing board games with Nami at the flat.”

“Are you sure that will contain him?” Patty snarked. Sanji flipped a middle finger at him, the act automatic more than anything.

“The Sunny’s parked at the flat, so if all else fails, one of the ones working on it can help,” Chopper said. He and Usopp went straight to hair-netting themselves so they could peel vegetables, while Robin sprouted enough arms to wash dishes, and Sanji stuck his head under the tap at the hand-washing station, running cold water over his head.

“Wow… it hasn’t been this bad since Eggplant thought he could pick a fight with some neighborhood hoodlums twice his size,” Zeff observed gravely. He took a the towel hanging off the side of his apron and placed it over Sanji’s head once he turned off the water. “How old were you then?”

“Ten—I was only here for a few months, the assholes.” He accepted the towel and attempted to dry his hair, leaving it slightly damp so he could comb it back with his fingers, putting it in place before properly washing his hands. “You called up your old savate buddies within the week.”

“Your game’s off—next time those UNIT bastards decide to pick a fight, don’t come crawling back here unless you’ve thoroughly kicked their asses and not the other way around,” Zeff chided gently. He tossed Sanji an apron and picked back up barking orders to his subordinates—there was a dinner rush to get through.

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

It was a rough shift, that was for certain. UNIT did not show up ready to haul them all into the base for questioning—that at least had somewhat of an informal truce going—but it did seem as though the entire ward knew that certain members of the kitchen staff were beat to hell and that it would be a bad night to be busy. Instead, they went through no less than fourteen birthdays, five wedding anniversaries, and a slew of other occasions, with the night being one of the busiest they’d had in a while. For some reason. No one was certain as to why. Fucking full moon energy for it being only a partial. All they knew was that when they finally dragged ass back to the flat, the look on Franky’s face as he stood there shiftily with his can of pop was not welcome.

“Whatever it is, it can fucking wait until tomorrow,” Sanji threatened. He didn’t even care that Zoro was still filthy, nor that he didn’t even have enough energy to tug off before falling asleep if that’s what it took, yet he still wrapped both hands around one of the green-haired man’s biceps and weakly pulled towards his bedroom. “Cuddles now, marimo.”

“I have to call my brother,” Franky said, not caring about the prohibition. Sanji sank against Zoro’s side, not wanting to move of his own volition anymore.

“It will be nice to see him again,” Robin said pleasantly. She calmly strode up to Franky and pecked him on the cheek, the only one not completely spent after the chaotic night they’d had. The rest of the crew were dropping like flies, some making it to the couches, others settling for the cozy area rug. Luffy was still wide awake, however, demonstrating how eerily inhuman he was at times.

“I wonder how Ice-guy’s doing,” he mused.

“Iceburg means… you’re calling Galley-Fucking-La…?” Sanji realized, brain still functioning enough to connect the fucking dots.

“Called,” Jinbe corrected, sipping some tea. “He already called his brother.”

“Mmm… I’m going to kill you,” Sanji whined. He made a move to go kick the cyborg’s head in, but was easily caught by Zoro and thrown over the man’s shoulder.

“Not now, soba-brain,” he said, carrying him out of the main living space. Sanji strained half-heartedly against his captor, the thought floating in his consciousness as long as it was active.

Galley-La, of all things, in the flat above a coworker who has no qualms over reporting him to his dad.

Fuck.

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

Waking back up the following morning was much better than falling asleep the night prior, Sanji decided. Granted, he didn’t even really remember coming home the night prior, his memory becoming sort of a mental brown-out after stepping over the building threshold, but waking up… that he could deal with. He was currently snugged up to the moss-brain (which was honestly, one of his more practical uses), one meaty arm around him while he used the man’s broad chest as a pillow. It was… at some point in the morning, with the warm sun coming through the window and making him content as a cat. Fuck—sword-freak had such nice tits…

“Hey, mister! When’s breakfast?!”

Sanji bolted awake, eyes snapping wide open as he lifted himself up onto his hands. There, standing next to his bed, was Franky and Iceburg’s niece, Chimney. The child was staring at him expectantly, waiting for an answer.

“Why the fuck are you here?”

“Un~cle Fra~n~ky call~ed,” she replied in a sing-song voice. “When’s breakfast?”

“After… I shower…” Sanji replied warily. The girl gave this a moment of thought, then nodded.

“I’ll let them know,” she said before skipping off.

Fuck, who else was there?

“Marimo! Get up!” Sanji hissed, shoving Zoro’s shoulder. The wall of meat kept sleeping, so he shoved him out of bed.

“Ow! What the fuck is wrong with you?!” Zoro snapped, glaring over the top of the bed.

“Why didn’t you tell me Franky’s relatives were coming over?!”

“We did!”

“When?!”

“Last night!”

“Oh, when I was having a serious caffeine-adrenaline-nicotine combo crash?! Great time.” Sanji got out of bed and threw Zoro’s t-shirt from the day before at him. “Be decent—Chimney was just in here.”

“At least we’re still wearing pants,” the green-haired man grumbled.

“I swear, if Carne mentions one thing to Zeff, I don’t care—all of your asses are going in the vortex whether you like it or not… except Nami and Robin.”

“Do we have to take the kid or can she at least stay?”

“Now you’re just getting me on fucking technicalities.”

Zoro flipped Sanji the middle finger as the latter went into the bathroom and quickly showered off the funk that came with his prior work shift and sleeping curled up with grimy beefcake. Fifteen minutes later he was clean and dressed and stepping out into…

…Zoro and Usopp quietly drinking coffee at the kitchen island…?

“Please tell me they’re all in the Sunny,” the blond pleaded.

“Mostly,” Usopp claimed, shrugging slightly. Sanji tried not to drop the frying pan in his hand.

“What do you mean by that?”

“Kid went out on the balcony; wanted to see what Logueton looks like from here,” Zoro muttered into his mug. It was the one with a Western-style dragon and flames that appeared when the mug was warm—a gag birthday gift from the Baratie staff that the cook was more than happy to repurpose. “At least it’s not the fucking hag as well.”

“Then… who’s watching her?”

Usopp and Zoro both looked at one another and cussed simultaneously. Two seconds later and there was a knock at the door, making all three men stop, eyes trained on the metal surface separating the flat from the corridor. Sanji cautiously went over to the door and opened it, his stomach dropping.

There was Carne, with the scruff of Luffy’s shirt in one hand and Chimney’s in the other.

“You lost these,” the older man frowned, tossing the pair across the threshold. “Why are you like this?”

“Blame the old man—he wanted me to travel with them.”

“I don’t think that meant losing the space cadets and that damn ship landing at all manner of day and night… nor getting loudly railed by Mister Tall, Green, and Stabby over there every chance you get.”

“You’re just jealous,” Zoro countered, gesturing with his mug. Usopp choked on his coffee. Luffy completely ignored the conversation and disappeared inside the Sunny, not interested in the coffee that was available.

“Why would I be jealous of the boss’s eggplant when I got all I need in my nice, quiet flat that doesn’t involve weirdos!?”

“…because you’re thinking about the shit-geezer’s eggplant; now hush.” Sanji closed the door on Carne before he had a chance to sputter out a response. Zoro and Usopp both high-fived one another, while Chimney looked at the men, confused.

“What was that about?” she asked.

“Never you mind,” Sanji scolded, skin flushing a deep pink. “Now, pancakes?”

“Yes!”

It wasn’t long before there was a short stack of pancakes in front of the three time-and-space-displaced people sitting at the island. He just finished plating another stack when Chimney’s pet rabbit-cat-thing Gonbe came loping out of the Sunny, complete with a grimy peanut gallery right behind it.

“Yow! That smells super!” Franky grinned. He sat down next to Chimney, ruffling her hair. “Sanji-bro makes the best food, doesn’t he?”

“Yefh!” the girl replied, mouth full of pancake.

“Oi, losers, let the guests sit there,” Sanji scolded, kicking Zoro and Usopp from their spots. They retreated into the sitting area, allowing space for the two remaining shipwrights to eat. If anything, at least they were saving the couch from the indignity of Franky’s tiny swim bottoms should he volunteer his seat instead.

“Nma, Chimney, don’t talk with your mouth full,” Iceburg gently reminded her. He sounded terribly bored, as though it was something he said with way too much regularity.

“Uncle Iceburg…” she whined, “you and Uncle Paulie do it all the time.”

“Gotta prove you know the rules before you can break ‘em, brat,” Paulie muttered though his food, which got him a prompt and sharp elbow in the side. Coffee appeared in front of him and he graciously took it—fucking nectar of life.

“I don’t see your ship,” Sanji mentioned as he poured more batter. “Don’t you also wander around in one of those things?” He gestured towards the Sunny with his spatula, which garnered a shrug from Iceburg.

“It’s parked out front.”

“Do I want to know?”

“It looks like a truck!” Chimney said brightly, volunteering the information. Her adults all stared at her as Sanji peeked out the window—yup, there it was: a rusted-out, beat-the-fuck-up Fish-Man Motors pickup truck with clearly-replaced doors and “Galley-La Construction, Mechanics, and Maintenance” written on the side. He didn’t even want to know what they had to do to access the main of the ship.

“So, Sanji,” Paulie said, punctuated by sipping his coffee, “how long you got where we can just crash here?”

“However long it takes for you to get the ship back in the vortex and Luffy away from my neighbors,” the cook replied. “There are plenty of people whose patience is already wearing thin.”

“Yours included?”

“I just want two shifts in a row at work where I’m not worried about him breaking anything, or that he’s out causing trouble that will follow him back.” The three shipwrights all nodded at that—they all knew of Luffy’s particular brand of antics. Even Chimney nodded in commiseration. “I’m gonna get that restaurant one day, and I want to prove to my old man before then that I’m capable of the task.”

“Sanji, dude, you make some of the best fucking mizu-mizu meat in this quadrant, any prep method,” Paulie scoffed. “I think you can handle it.”

“Should almost get you on tape saying that,” Sanji said. He plated some additional pancakes, then pulled a slab of bacon out of the fridge. “It’d be nice to have it to listen to, you know? Someone other than myself saying it?”

“Are we having bacon with pancakes?!” Usopp asked happily from across the room. Sanji glared at him.

“No, because the boneless wonder is going to realize it’s breakfast time in five, four, three, two, one…”

…and that was when they heard it.

Drifting out of the inner depths of the Sunny.

The wanton moans that preceded disaster…

“Sanji! I’m hungry! I want meat!”

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

Sanji had never seen Zeff cry, but he was beginning to wonder if that was going to change.

“Three weeks?!” he sputtered. “I can’t have those disasters wandering around here for that long! They’re going to become nothing but a menace!”

“That’s how long it’s going to take for the Sunny to get back to operational, then we can kick the morons in there and send them off for a while,” Sanji reasoned. “Between Franky, Iceburg, and Paulie, that’s the best they were able to give me.”

“If I had known things were going to be like this, I would have kicked that rubber boy out and then found a way to get him banned him from this planet.” Zeff rubbed his face with both his hands, glad for the fact they were in his office, where none of the other staff members could see him considering a mental fucking breakdown. “Not a day longer, you hear?”

“I want this just as much as you do, Pops.”

“Now go make sure none of them are scaring off the customers,” the older man grumbled. “I need to… just… not think about shit for a bit.”

Sanji closed the office door behind him and went to peek inside the dining room of the Baratie. Things were going fairly smooth so far: Usopp was relegated to waitstaff that evening, and Brook was maître d’, despite all logic stating that was the last thing he should be doing. Neither of them seemed to be causing much trouble, nor was Chopper as he wheeled out the dessert cart. There was someone very crucial missing from his line of vision, but he was also not seeing evidence of Robin, which gave him at least some hope. He crept back to the kitchen, relieved to find Luffy sitting next to the many-armed goddess, concentrating on a fidget toy.

After exchanging a look with the Historian that he hoped screamed “thank fucking God”, Sanji went back to taking care of orders. He was on fish that night, which meant a lot of butchering and filleting by-hand. The fish station at the Baratie was a bit more intensive than it really needed to be, but that was part of the model, after all. Both the other chefs at the station—decent enough in their own rights, but not near his caliber yet—were glad that it was him helping and not one of the older and more cantankerous chefs. The three worked together near-seamlessly, until Usopp came rushing up to Sanji in a panic.

“They’re here!” he scream-whispered. Sanji put down his knife and glared at his crewmate.

“If you haven’t noticed: I’m up to my elbows in fish guts. Who is here?”

“UNIT!”

Fuck.

“They’re asking for the chef’s special… and you’re the chef.”

Fuck.

“Don’t piss your pants—I’m coming,” Sanji growled. He quickly washed and dried his hands and followed Usopp out into the dining room, where he was led directly to a circular booth where Smoker and Tashigi were sitting—too close together to be siblings, but too far apart to be hooking up. “Your waiter informs me you wish to speak to the chef about tonight’s specials? I am the sous, as our head chef is in the middle of paperwork for the evening.”

“Give me one good reason,” Smoker growled, “why I shouldn’t clap all of you in cuffs and bring you down to HQ.”

“…because at the end of next month, my father will be hosting Logueton Luncheon, and no one would be able to repair the property damage that would be involved with your plan in time for their arrival.”

“What do you recommend that will be light enough to accommodate a slice of that opera cake I saw on the trolley?” Tashigi asked nonchalantly. She seemed to be pointedly ignoring her superior officer, who was absolutely fuming at the entire situation, until she kicked him under the table. “You lost the bet, you promised you’d take me to a nice place because of it, and I’d rather not arrest both the waiter and the sous chef while off-hours on flimsy pretenses.”

“Aren’t you bold, Tash,” Smoker grumbled. Sanji and Usopp both attempted to keep a snicker in as the normally-gentler one of the pair took a sip of her water with what could almost be described as a devilish look on her face. She glanced over at the pair and a chill ran down their spines.

“I’m bold because I bet Mister Love-Doesn’t-Work-on-the-Battlefield here that Hibari was going to ask Helmeppo and-slash-or Coby out. He said she was a lesbian and it doesn’t work that way.”

“Oooh, sucker bet,” Usopp cringed.

“One won on a technicality, at that,” Sanji noted. “So that is why mademoiselle is treating us to her visage in fine evening wear instead of her usual uniform? Good to know that she is with someone who knows how to behave around a lady.” He flashed Smoker a shit-eating grin, causing the other man to grit his teeth. “If he doesn’t work, mademoiselle, I’ve got a fellow sword-fanatic I can loan you for the remainder of the evening.”

“You’re pimping out Zoro now…?” Usopp cringed. A second later and his toes were crushed.

Now, granted, Usopp did scream—the toes on his left foot were shattered, after all—but no one heard him. Instead, the noise he made (which was admittedly rather impressive) was drowned out by the sound of the Sunny landing in the middle of the dining room. Again. A filthy Zoro wordlessly walked out, approached the table where the UNIT officers were at…

…and pulled Tashigi from the booth.

“Oi, mujina, let’s go,” he grunted.

“How are you from Japan and not get the term right?!” Tashigi marveled incredulously. She allowed herself to be pulled through the restaurant by the wrist—fighting it just wasn’t part of her that evening. Luffy had already scrambled out of the kitchen and was halfway through the door, while Chopper was dragging Usopp along and Robin chuckling as she readied the mindwiping device to use on the customers.

“Blackleg, you have three seconds to convince me you have nothing to do with your ancient warrior fetish dragging off my not-date into that fucking interdimensional snogbox of yours.”

“Considering this thing wasn’t supposed to be ready for weeks? Something tells me I’m in need of more answers than you.” Sanji reluctantly dragged ass heading over to the ship, bested in speed by Brook (who kindly reminded them he possessed no ass to speak of and therefore did not drag), the chef and the UNIT officer looking inside the Sunny to see absolute fucking chaos reigning supreme.

Every single Straw Hat crewmember was there, plus some. Tashigi was currently in a row with Zoro about which sword she needed to borrow despite her nice dress. Iceburg was laying half-under the console in an effort to continue repairing it, while Paulie physically tossed Gonbe across the room to get it out of the way and into Chimney’s arms. Nami was shouting, Jinbe was shouting back, Franky was singing, Luffy was whooping, Chopper was attempting to take care of Usopp’s broken foot as both idiots panicked out of control, and, somehow… somehow… a pink Eastern dragon was sobbing in the arms of a samurai that was legitimately taller than Brook, of all people.

Without looking, Sanji reached into his pocket and brought out his lighter, holding it towards Smoker. Whatever the fuck this was, their nicotine-addicted asses were going to need something to keep them upright.

The man took the lighter and immediately flicked it open.

Yeah; this was not going to be good.

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nightingaelic · 3 years

Note

Companions react to the Courier doing the Infinite Money Glitch in casinos.

I had to look this up, OP, and then I had to conceptualize how this would even work in a storytelling context and write it, anyway I hope you're pleased with yourself because my brain feels like a stack of used sandpaper sheets

The courier had been saving up caps for a while, stashing them in odd places around the Lucky 38. Everywhere you looked there were bottle caps: Dresser drawers in the Presidential Suite, empty ice buckets in the cocktail lounge, in jars on every shelf in the penthouse. Saving up caps for big purchases was pretty common behavior in the Mojave wasteland for anyone, so no one batted an eye when the courier assembled all of the stashes on the carpeted floor of the casino and started counting them out, checking six times before stringing them together in batches of 50 and writing down the final total: 32,768.

No, no one so much as blinked when they lugged all 656 strings of caps out the door of the Lucky 38. No one, that is, except the lucky soul who went with them, saw them exchange all the caps for chips at The Tops Casino, then drop the chips in the back of The Aces theater during Bruce Isaac's set and return to the cashier to collect triple the amount of money they walked in with.

Arcade Gannon: Arcade cringed as the courier struggled to drag the haul of caps out the door of The Tops. The jingle of the cap strings was attracting the attention of just about everyone on the Strip, and someone across the street yelled "High roller!"

"This can't be legal," Arcade said.

"Since when..." the courier huffed and puffed, throwing cap strings over their shoulder carelessly, "... do you give a mole rat's ass about legality?"

"What is this?!?" Arcade hissed incredulously, gesturing to the jingling pile. "Is that cashier paying you off? Are those chips the currency for some wasteland tribe I've never heard of, but somehow have a better exchange rate than the NCR does? Did I just witness a payout for a hit on someone?"

The courier sighed and paused to pat the scientist on the shoulder. "Just don't think about it too hard, okay? Now help me out with this, we're going to Doctor Usanagi's to get me tricked out with as many implants as she has on hand."

Craig Boone: While the courier jingled their way across the Strip asphalt, Boone couldn't help noticing the number of eyes turning their way to stare at the enormous payout they were openly carrying. New Vegas was already a town that kept on trucking if its very creator was killed, that was certain: It wouldn't even pause if its latest mastermind was gunned down over a fortune in steel and aluminum crowns. Boone clutched his rifle close and met as many of the curious and envious stares as he could, his own eyes burning protectively behind his sunglasses.

They managed to get all the way back to the Lucky 38 before the courier stopped and spoke to him. "Nothing? Not even a guess about what this is from?"

Boone shrugged. "None of my business. Just don't carry it all at once again. Ever."

Lily Bowen: "Did you win, dearie?" Lily asked, confused. As far as she had noticed, the courier hadn't approached any of the blackjack tables, roulette wheels or slot machines.

"Yeah, Lily." The courier grinned and started handing her strings of caps to carry. "What do you want to spend your winnings on?"

"My winnings?" Lily shook her head. "Now now, pumpkin. You won fair and square, so you get to choose what you buy."

"My treat," the courier insisted. "Anything at all. We could go to the Gourmand for dinner, we could donate to the Followers in Freeside, we could get singing and dancing lessons from the King... what do you want?"

Lily thought for a moment, wracking her brains. "Brahmin for Jacobstown."

The courier looked at her quizzically. "Brahmin? Not bighorners?"

"Brahmin," Lily confirmed, shouldering the strings upon strings of caps. "Bighorners at Jacobstown will make more bighorners, but they have no brahmin. Brahmin are sweet, easier to handle. But no one will sell brahmin to nightkin."

"Okay." The courier nodded. "Then we have to go to the Gourmand for dinner anyway. I know a guy at the Ultra-Luxe who might help."

Raul Alfonso Tejada: "Dios mío," Raul muttered under his breath. "Who did you kill for the Chairmen? They finally paying you back for getting rid of Benny?"

"Pfft." The courier waved him off, dropping a few strings of caps as they did. "Whoops. Help me out here, and I'll buy you a drink."

"A drink?" Raul laughed. "Not the whole bar? You could probably convince the Garret twins to retire if you gave them half of this haul."

"And why the hell would I want to take over the Atomic Wrangler?" The courier shook their head as they loaded the old ghoul up with caps. "I already have one casino I'm incapable of running. The only customers I get are you and the other Mojave misfits."

Raul grinned. "Hey, you invited us in, amigo. We're just the only ones loco enough to ignore the robots and take you up on it."

Rose of Sharon Cassidy: "Oh, sweet squirrel stew." Cass' eyes were as big as the dinner plates in the casino's restaurant. "That's enough change to buy the Van Graffs out of business. That's enough change to tell Alice McLafferty to stick it where the sun don't shine, then back it up with enough muscle to scare her out of the Mojave."

The courier nodded and started handing her strings of caps. "It is also enough change to start funding her competitors and drive her out of New Vegas."

"Now you're talkin'." Cass smirked and accepted the extra weight. "So who're we gonna back? Far Go? The Water Merchants? Gun Runners?"

"Actually..." the courier smiled. "A little birdie told me that the Mojave Express is looking to expand its horizons. Start offering goods in addition to services. And you know me, I like to root for the home team when I can."

Cass laughed. "Well that's a surprise. You plannin' on playin' courier again? Get yourself shot in the head a second time?"

"Not if I can help it."

Veronica Santangelo: "Uhhhh, Six?" Veronica crossed her arms. "I thought we agreed we weren't going to stir up trouble for a bit after the adventure at the dam. This screams 'trouble' to me."

"Aw, lighten up Veronica." The courier winked at her and handed her a string of caps, like a consolation prize. "We're in a casino. The odds aren't in your favor, but at least you can have fun for a bit."

Veronica turned the offering down. "Math may not have been my strongest subject when I was in school, but I do know that 30,000 minus 30,000 does not equal 90,000, under any normal odds. What are you getting yourself- and more importantly, me- into?"

The courier sighed. "It's nothing. Just a little loophole I discovered when I was poking around after Benny's disappearance. I promise, we're not going to get knifed, unless we get waylaid in the street on the way home because I'm too weighed down to move."

Veronica narrowed her eyes suspiciously. "I don't trust this," she said after a few beats, "But I'm also not keen to see you try to fight off a mugger while buried under all those caps. Give me some of that."

ED-E: The eyebot beeped, confused, when the courier stopped it from picking up the chips again. Its beeps increased in volume and frequency as they loaded the little bot up with caps at the cashier's counter, until it was hanging low in the air and having trouble turning around from the increased weight. The courier patted its metal dome reassuringly and loaded up the rest of the haul on themselves, until each step they took sounded like a cascade of sleigh bells.

"Back to the Lucky 38," the courier said, pointing toward the casino door. "I've got a bet I need to settle with Raul."

Rex: Rex whined as the courier hung strings of caps off his back. He sniffed each new addition but stood tall on his metal legs, taking the extra weight admirably until he was virtually buried by the wasteland currency.

"Can you still walk, boy?" the courier asked, when they had lightened their own load.

Rex barked. Satisfied, the courier led the way to the exit, opening the casino door with a jingle and ignoring the strange looks they were getting. The two waddled their way to the Strip's main gate and down the main street of Freeside until they staggered into the King's School of Impersonation.

The King, who had been lounging inside the stage room, jumped up when he saw the pair. "Well ain't that some money, honey," he said, clearly delighted. "You actually went and did it."

"Yep." The courier dropped some strings of caps on the nearest table and leaned over it to rest. "There it is. Now, where do we get started on fixing up Freeside?"

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ackerfics · 3 years

Text

edelweiss — levi ackerman.

— levi ackerman x female reader

— warnings: spoilers for season 4 and the good old aot canon-typical violence.

— summary: you pour your unsaid thoughts to levi, only to break a promise that costs you your heart.

— word count: 4.5k

The sea holds so many promises with its sea-green hue that it spreads a chilling wave through your body like the first breath of winter’s snow. The first time you had ever set eyes on such a majestic view, there was still momentary happiness lingering as your comrades splashed each other with its blue waters. It was a symbol of hope and yet it remained a mystery that prevents all of you from knowing what was beyond this thing called the horizon. You remember how you laughed in delight when Hange presented a bizarre creature on their hands, beckoning you to move closer and focus your entire attention on the small unknown thing lying on your best friend’s palms. You remember glorying under the Sun’s ever singing rays, watching them glitter against every small jostle of water at your feet. You remember turning around to face your lover with a bright smile that might have rendered him speechless — fumbling for words when the two of you face each other.

Those moments were timeless.

Minutes spent wading in the sea was the only time you had peace.

You let out a shuddering breath as you brushed your fingers against the gold band decorating your left ring finger. This is no time to be vulnerable. You were a captain for years, for heaven’s sake, even before Levi joined the Survey Corps. The younger soldiers would feel nervous if they see your unnecessary tears. Hastily wiping them from your cheeks, you turned away from the railing separating you from the dreadful vastness of blue that placed you in such a mood and placed a tentative hand on one of the rooms housing your injured husband.

Entering the small room was more stifling than the situation happening around the continent. It would mean seeing Levi in such a state that would always accumulate unshed tears in your eyes. The bandages wrapping his figure only worsened your melancholy and with every step, you pray that he wouldn’t wake up from the cringing creak of the wood paneling of the floor. The room only had one single bed and a convenient chair on the opposite side of the lone furniture. You wasted no time in lifting the chair to place it beside Levi’s bed, seating yourself with pursed lips and clenched fists. The more time you surveyed his battered body, the more your throat burned with the urge to pour out your feelings in the small confines of the room.

With the Rumbling purging the continents beyond Paradis, this was no time to be relishing in old memories.

Yet living in those memories you shared with Levi kept you solid.

Your life wasn’t guaranteed in this last mission. There will always be a possibility that you won’t come home with the rest of the people fighting against the Rumbling and you had to make do of the short amount of time you had with Levi. But a part of you was saying that you had to survive no matter what, to make that dream of opening a tea shop in a small village possible — to give your child the freedom and childhood you had never experienced. That little ray of sunshine that came to both you and Levi in times of hopelessness a year after taking back the lost territory of the Walls. He looked like Levi that it was so hard for you to say goodbye, even if it were only missions for weeks on an unknown land. This time, you didn’t utter a single closure to your son, regret started bubbling in the abyss of your mind and stomach.

And now, you don’t know if you could ever meet with your son again.

Taking Levi’s hand as gently as possible, you took a deep breath.

“If time really was against us, I promise I wouldn’t cry. I promise I wouldn’t wait for you because I know you’ll still be the strongest soldier I have ever known. I am a mere mortal compared to you, Levi, and I fear that this dream of ours will have its last breath.”

A bitter chuckle came out of you as your grip on his hand tightened. The memories were now more vivid than usual — the time you introduced yourself to him and his friends from the Underground, the respect that blossomed between you when he knew you will be his new squad leader, the way he looked after you as your second-in-command, you recommending him in the vacant Captain spot of the Survey Corps, and you giving him a welcoming gift in his new office. Then, the images shifted to when he finally kissed you under the canopy of stars, to when he whispered words of reassurance as your bodies erased every space between you, to when you screamed in Shiganshina that you were pregnant with his child, and to when you started carrying his discovered last name along with the birth of your first son.

“The reason these thoughts tend to cloud my head at this moment was that the memories simply flashed in my mind as I stared at the ocean that I always longed for. Memories we shared that might have been fleeting yet they carry a thousand-fold of emotions coursing through every fiber of my being. Funny how every time we went out on an expedition all those years ago, you always told me to keep safe and come back with a heart that’s still beating for you. As if I would ever stop loving you and set my sights romanticizing the Titans as Hange does. I had realized that you never once accepted that my life could abruptly end with a constant war on our hands.

“Until your tired breath from lack of sleep gradually diminishes, this time, I will be the one to protect you and fight until I will let go of my own heart to sing a song worthy of you.”

“Was that a speech of farewell just now?”

Your eyes flew from your joined hands to the dulled gray irises of the keeper of your heart. Before you know it, tears continuously flowed a stream on your cheeks, your shoulders hunched as sobs racked your body. “I don’t know what came over me, must be the tension brought by the possibility of dying when we haven’t even stopped the Rumbling from erasing the rest of humanity.”

“Hey, look at me,” Levi uttered your name so softly as if he was afraid it would sadden you even more. Placing his left hand on your cheek, he wiped the cascading tear that glistened under the mellow glow of the lantern beside his bed. “You’re not going anywhere. Not when I am still alive with limbs fully intact. Well, except for the fact that I lost two of my fingers.” From that, more tears appeared in his view, flustering him in the slightest. “The point is that I will protect you. This dream with our small family will be forever ingrained in our future. You will always have me looking out for you.”

“But I’m supposed to be the one protecting you now.”

“Are you underestimating me?”

You shook your head, covering his hand with both of yours. You placed a tender kiss that you hoped radiated the unsaid thoughts that could ruin the moment you share with him right now. You wanted him to be a part of humanity’s victory against whatever crazy plan Eren has set his mind on.

“Our little boy is waiting for us to come home,” Levi reminded you after a few minutes of silence (with your occasional sniffles here and there). “Isn’t that enough reason for us to come home alive? Imagining him losing one of us was the one thing I don’t want to happen right now. Promise me.” You love the sound of your name when he says it. Akin to the flowers that seem like they hold all the jewels at the center of their petals. “Come home with me safe and sound.”

“I’m not one to keep promises, Levi, you know that.”

“Just this once,” he pleaded. “All I wanted was to have a happy ending with you, my edelweiss.”

With new tears blossoming in your eyes like flowers in spring, you gave Levi a promise that will desperately cling as long as the two of you are alive.

And he regretted making you say those words.

The battle with the Nine Titans of the past proved to be tormenting. With forces so small, the group who allied two countries at constant war with each other fought with bated breath, all eager to get out of the situation alive like no other. As hollow as your chest became after witnessing Hange sacrifice their life to let all of you escape, you steeled yourself and momentarily forgot the emptiness you felt as you landed on top of Eren’s back. You fought back a gag of disgust when you realized that the humungous creature shared similarities with those insects you loathe. However, Armin was captured by a Titan out of nowhere and everything went to absolute shit. Maneuvering in the air was perfect for the remaining members of the Survey Corps as they assessed the onslaught and ongoing appearance of their intelligent enemies on Eren’s back but their numbers continued pouring in. Two thousand years of Titan history right in front of your eyes. Everybody, Mikasa especially, was starting to feel agitated that one of their comrades was hauled away with a good number of Titans to prevent them from saving him.

“Even if I was in perfect shape,” Levi told them while they stayed perched a good kilometers away from Death, “I would still not choose to make a charge there. So calm down. Mikasa, don’t rush. Wait until I distract them.”

You glanced at him from the corner of your eyes. “Levi, don’t overexert yourself. We don’t want to lose you.”

“The feeling’s mutual. Don’t die on me.”

The rush of adrenaline started when Pieck initiated the charge, along with the thought that she had never known Eren unlike the rest of the people behind her. You screamed for her to retreat but they were futile when the Warhammer Titan materialized behind the Shifter and pierced a weapon made of hardened Titan skin through the torso of the woman’s Cart Titan. Gritting your teeth, you followed your comrades in a route specifically to rescue the new commander of the Survey Corps. Thunderspears were released every minute, maneuvers were done in utmost accuracy, and sliced napes gradually increased as your small group evaded every death-defying moment. As you were about to set your sights on one Titan in particular as well as avoid the Colossal Titan, Connie descended when the fifty-meter mass of burning flesh threw Reiner’s inert Titan at the rest of the squad, shaking the entirety of the spine you were carefully standing on.

“Levi!” you called out desperately when you saw him cough up blood. He was only a few meters away from you and you had to take him away from there fast. However, the sudden motion of a jumping Titan made you rethink your decision, latching your hooks at somewhere near Connie and blinding the creature’s eyes with an angered shout that might have startled it. The horrible creature tried snapping at your form but you were quick enough to evade its jaws with a hiss from your ODM gear, turning in midair to slice the Titan’s nape and rendering it lifeless. Looking down for a moment to check on your blades, you saw the lone pair sitting inside either sheath of the gear. “Fuck. My gas canisters and supply are not cooperating with the situation right now.”

Looking around, you suddenly realized with a hollow chest that everything was hopeless at this point. There was no escape as every intelligent Titan known to mankind swarmed your squad, their shadows a foreboding omen on your death.

Feeling a prickling sensation at the back of your neck, you turned around and saw that the Warhammer Titan was starting to make another one of its weapons, this time, a needle-like spear forming from the hardened material at the bottom of its foot. Shouting at the top of your lungs for your friends to flee, the message only registered to them when you pushed Mikasa, who was dangling in the middle of the trajectory with a determined face, oblivious to the weapon hurtling towards your squad’s direction.

Pain was something you always described as a chain of a chemical reaction. From all the books you read while trying to keep up with the latest idea Hange had, you always marveled at how a small prick of a needle would soon creep the sensation to your entire finger. To prevent yourself from being affected by the pain, you always likened the creeping pain to a blooming blossom in your and Hange’s favorite season. It promised something anew that would grow from the initial pain that racked your body. The dizziness was another story entirely. You never had issues with iron deficiency while growing up. You were a force to be reckoned with — battle scars lining up your legs and knees from all the running and climbing you did as a part of your childhood. These dents on your body grew in numbers as the years passed by until you were granted a position in the military regiment of flying wings and anxiety-ridden adventures. You wore these battle scars proudly like any other soldier.

Then, the promise of being alive rang across your head like a beacon.

That spear caused the entire left side of your torso to be gone.

The shouts of terror and agony from your squad fell on deaf ears as you slowly plummeted to your death. Ah, so that was why you were having flashbacks of your life from gazing at the ocean a final time. Glassy eyes stared lifelessly at the steaming sky as a single voice screamed your name nearly made you smile. You can finally let go of those long, never-ending days now. There won’t be nightmares plaguing you every other night as you finally succumbed to your last sleep. Selfish as it may, you were at peace once again.

“[Name]!”

And when you opened your eyes, a familiar face appeared to greet you and everything felt like a dream you just experienced from a drunken daze.

“Hi, I hope that wasn’t a bad dream.”

You blinked away the drowsiness that fell upon your eyelids, staring at a familiar landscape you only saw in daydreams. The clean air reminded you of the good old days, of summers left uncherished and autumn with its red leaves and yellow treats. There weren’t any Titans looming at every corner of the space and you slightly felt relieved at the thought until a single tear ran down your cheek like a chill in the winter air.

“Don’t cry.” A slightly panicked tone that only deepened the cut you felt in your chest. “You’re safe here.”

Those words only fuelled your cries. Palms covering your mouth, you uttered the name of the person who would pull you from the inner workings of your mind and bring you back to the surface. You never knew how much you missed them until you wrapped your arms around their shoulders, pulling them in an embrace that you should’ve done before they said their farewells, face taut with determination to stop Eren.

"Hange.”

They smelled like home. Of baked bread during late-night trysts in the kitchens to make them eat after a week of slaving inside their laboratory, of hot chocolate from the marketplace, of scented shampoo from the baths you had to force them. Your grip tightened when you felt their gentle hands reciprocate the hug you showered on them.

“I can’t believe you’re here waiting for me.”

“You did well.” A call of your name snapped you from reuniting with your best friend.

“Erwin?”

A warm smile lifted the said man’s lips as he kneeled beside you and Hange, who was now trying so hard not to cry. “You fought beautifully, [Name], and I’m so glad to see your smile again.”

The overwhelming emotions made you laugh brilliantly in the vast meadow where the veterans once had their picnic. Then, an image of a man with ebony locks and loving steel eyes and a toddler with an uncanny similarity as him made you stop breathing. The tea shop you promised your husband would have. The perfect childhood your son would’ve enjoyed. “What about Caelum? Levi?”

Erwin placed a firm hand on your shoulder. There you realized your torso was still intact. “You will see them as many times as you want. Come,” he took your hand and pulled you up, “the others are waiting. It’s your time to tell your story now.”

“I bet it was interesting since I never got to see it,” Hange interjected, wrapping a nostalgic arm around your shoulders. “That blasted Eren! I will haunt him in his sleep if he survived that massacre he started!”

Sleep was never Levi’s friend growing up. It was a realm that he chose not to venture at certain nights, afraid of the demons lurking at every corner of his tunnel vision. There was a time that sleep was kind to him. It took the form of a beautiful sprite with gentle fingers; coaxing him, tugging affectionately on his black locks, and humming lullabies that will guarantee him a good night’s sleep after a tiring day of having responsibilities. Only there was no fairy to lull him to sleep this time around. The nightmare was always the same — it started as any other random memory stored in the kept jar inside his chest, turning the whole scenario in a crescendo until he saw the limp body of his wife dropping lifelessly, the wire of her gear snapping from the impact of a white spear. His wife had the same face as the fairy who he held every night while being in the Survey Corps. The wife who gave him the light of his life, who was sleeping soundly beside him on the bed; black hair tousled, puffy cheeks blabbering drowsy nonsense, and chubby fists clenching on the thick sheets.

Glancing at the child on the bed, Levi ran an agitated hand through his hair, tugging at the roots as hard as he could. His mind flittered to the dream he just had, shocked that no blood and corpses were waiting at the end. Levi doesn’t know if he should be grateful or spooked at the sudden change of his unconscious.

“Guess you won’t be calling me ‘Captain’ anymore, huh, Levi?”

A playful jab colored Levi’s new office. It was a new change from that stuffy bedroom he got back when he was still the second-in-command of the woman standing in the middle of his office as if it was a new wonderland fit for admiring. The room was nothing much. It was an old storage room, which ticked Levi off to many tomorrows, spending every free time polishing the wooden cabinets and bookshelves until they reflected his face. There was an adjoining door to the right of his desk, showing his new sleeping quarters — equipped with a bed, housing double the pillows he got a while back and a soft mattress that his spine was grateful for. Now, the black-haired man observed how [Name]’s face lit up when their eyes met, igniting a foreign feeling inside his stomach and chest.

“So what’s second on the agenda, Captain Levi? I deduced that cleaning is the first one and you finished that without a hitch. You should’ve told me you needed help, I can always spare a few minutes taking a break from paperwork.”

Levi snorted at how smooth the title and his name sounded with the woman’s voice. “Finding brats to place on my squad.” As he fidgeted with the stacks of papers on top of his desk, his gray gaze kept glancing at [Name], who was now sidling up on his bookshelf, occasionally commenting that they pay a visit to the marketplace downtown for some good books to add in his collection. (“Your taste is bland, Levi, spice them up, for fuck’s sake,” to which the man brushed off.) “Uh, if you don’t mind, you can help me with finding some good soldiers for my squad.”

[Eye color] irises immediately snapped to meet his, causing Levi to clear his throat to ease the nervousness that started to chill his spine. It was as if he didn’t spend the past year under her leadership, which amounted to more moments spent with just the two of them. This, however, the nervousness he felt, was uncalled for. The cause being the woman with the unbound hair, curling at the bottom from the hours she pinned it in a bun, and a resolve that rivaled that of a stoked fire shining through her eyes. Truly worthy of the title ‘Humanity’s Beacon’, being one of the few women to ever prove themselves by slaying titans and conditioning their bodies and mind to achieve such an accomplishment. Levi found himself continuously staring at [Name] with the most blatant awe his stoic face could muster. He realized something that might have crossed his mind a couple of times they were together.

[Name] [Last Name] was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen.

“Finding good soldiers?” [Name] hummed, oblivious at the fact that she took the black-haired man’s breath away with a glance. “I think I have some cadets in mind.” Then, she clapped her hands. “But before that, I would like to give you your welcoming present!”

“Welcoming,” Levi trailed off, “present?”

[Name] nodded, turning around to the long couch pushed against the wall. So that’s what that poor excuse of wrapping paper was for, Levi thought. Like a little kid presenting the parent their shitty drawing, [Name] placed the gift in the middle of his desk with a clang. Wait, clang? “I hope I didn’t break it,” the female captain murmured, scratching her head sheepishly. “You can open it now.”

Levi tentatively unwrapped the brown paper around the supposed gift the woman gave him. Upon seeing what was nestled inside the papers, gray eyes met the most tantalizing [eye color] as he slightly gaped in disbelief. “You bought me a,” an eager nod could be seen from the woman in his peripheral vision, “a tea set. And a new jar of tea leaves as well. [Name], I-I couldn’t accept this, this must cost a lot. You know I have plans of buying my own tea set and tea leaves once I have a solid paycheck. These are even made from the highest quality, both of these, how—?”

Laughter bubbled from [Name] as she endearingly stared at the flustered state of her friend, abruptly stopping his chatter. “You’re rambling, Levi. Don’t worry about the lost money, we will be getting our paychecks next month anyway. I don’t have anything to splurge the rest of my savings on, except for a few books and quills. Besides,” she paused to give Levi a brilliant smile that once again rendered him speechless, “I guess giving you these are worth every single penny. Congratulations on being captain, Levi.”

Clearing his throat, he looked away. “Tch, you’re the one who recommended me to Erwin, stop with the congratulations as if you don’t know the promotion.”

“Still stingy, I see. So about those cadets you wanted to recruit. Here, I recommend these people.”

A small weight knocked Levi out of his stupor, silver-gray matching his stare with worried eyes. Small hands plopped on either side of the man’s face, squishing his cheeks as the hunched smaller figure on his lap pouted with furrowed eyebrows. “Dad, did you have a nightmare?” Letting out a sigh, Levi took his son’s hands from his face and proceeded to hug him close. The little boy sensed that his father was in a sad mood because of the man’s tense shoulders so he determinedly patted Levi’s head. “There, there, Dad. It’s more than okay to forget that dream.”

“You know I wouldn’t dare forget your Mom, kid,” Levi murmured, leaning back to look at Caelum with a raised eyebrow.

“You were dreaming about Mom?”

“Yeah.”

Great, his kid inherited his insomniac tendencies. If [Name] would see him now, there would be no doubt she will initiate a late-night tea party with Caelum. The kid also inherited his love for tea (Levi lets him drink fruit teas in the meantime) which is more than fine.

Caelum ducked down, pouting while fiddling with his father’s shirt. “I miss Mom.”

A sad smile pulled on Levi’s lips. “Me, too, kid. Me, too.” He brushed his lips on Caelum’s forehead (which lead to a small whine from the toddler, saying that he’s a big boy and he doesn’t want kisses from his dad) before lying down on the bed, with his son on top of his chest. “Deal with the kisses. Let’s sleep, yeah? Are you sleepy, kid?”

The little boy yawned and rubbed his eye. “Nope.”

Levi snorted. “Well, no shit.”

“That’s a bad word. Mom wouldn’t like you saying it.” Silence enveloped the two until, “Hey, Dad, can you tell me stories about Mom?”

“Go to sleep, brat.” A pause. “She is—,” Levi sighed, “quite a handful, even when she was a captain.”

Caelum huffed. “I already know that. You always complain about it.”

“Well, did I tell you about that time she stood on top of a Titan we were planning to capture, leading it like a horse to our trap?”

The dark-haired boy shook his head adorably. “Did Mom get hurt?”

“That idiot did.”

“That’s not a very nice thing to say about Mom!”

“Setting that aside, your Mom…”

Telling stories of [Name] always proved to be quite a time-consuming thing as the toddler fought against his drooping eyelids. Levi fondly stared at the only memory his wife left behind, his hand soothingly rubbed the boy’s back as their breaths turned into a rhythmic melody synced with each other. “I love you, kid. I know your mom will be proud of you. We’ll always be here for you, our edelweiss.”

To you, glowing with the suns,

There was no one alive to tell the tale of how the world almost came to an end, how earthquakes rumbled, how hopes were extinguished. There was no one alive to tell the story of how much I dedicate my heart to you. If I’d known it would be this way; I would have written thousands of paragraphs with the way I looked at you as if you were the sea, I would have written the ending with words that rivaled the infinite stars in the cosmos, and I would have finished it off with happiness that we (you) deserve.

You are my prologue, my epilogue, and every chapter and page in between.

From a tired soldier who loves you until we become ancient,

Your Levi

#attack on titan #attack on titan imagines #attack on titan x reader #levi ackerman #levi ackerman x reader #levi ackerman x you #yes this is angst #i know this is a fluff blog #but i can't help it

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letmetellyouaboutmyfeels · 3 years

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i have an amazing idea for a book, truly could be an incredible story. one that i would love to read myself. two things tho, how tf do i write it when i suck so bad at writing and how tf do i get it all out of my brain. i wish i could just unhinge my skull and let it pour out like one does with warm laundry from the basket to the couch (for folding of course) but yet it’s stuck in there like a bird in a warehouse. i ask you because the way you churn out stories is awe inspiring and i was hoping you might have some words of advice for a dumbass 🥺 ty, ily, i hope you get to eat a brownie today 🧡

First of all nonny, thank you, I'm delighted that you like my writing so much. I'm really flattered that you want to come to me for advice. Hey @extasiswings you have an admirer!

Second of all, that is the mood of writers everywhere - wishing we could just pour our thoughts for the story onto the page and voila.

Third of all - to answer your question. The second part is easy. You get it out of your brain by writing it.

Which brings us back to the first part of the question. What if you're not great at writing yet? Well first of all - who gives a fuck? First drafts are called vomit drafts for a reason. The first draft only has to exist. That is all. It can be an utter pile of cliche shit. So long as it exists, that's all that matters. Get the story out of your head by writing it.

Many people find it helpful to voice record things instead of writing it, since they can't write as fast as their thoughts go, and they get caught up in whether or not something reads well as opposed to just vomiting out all the shit they need to. "I hate the sound of my own voice!" Tough titties, my ducklings! If you're going to let something like "I hate the sound of my voice" stop you then by all means don't force yourself, but what you're really saying is, "I don't care enough about this story to overcome my personal discomfort." Nobody's going to hear these voice recordings except you. Nobody's cringing. You just need to talk out the plot points or verbalize a really good bit of dialogue before it forever vanishes into the ether, and that's all you need.

(You will never get it entirely out of your brain until the story is finished, by the way. Welcome to being a writer.)

As for "sucking so bad..." there's only one cure for that, and nobody likes it. In fact, we loathe it.

The cure is to write.

Read books by authors whose writing you like and want to emulate. Watch well-written films and television. We practice what we are shown as examples, so give your brain good examples. And then just write! You will never, ever get good at something if you don't practice it. Not a single person woke up one day able to be a genius at [enter talent here]. Even the "prodigies" and the "natural talents" took training at some point, and quite intensive training usually.

I'm going to be honest with you, it will be a while before you write that story the way you see it in your head. It will be a while before you're satisfied. But that's okay. I've been writing for literally twenty years. That’s two decades of practice. And even I have my bad days! From roughly September last year until a month or so ago I hated every fic I wrote. My friends encouraged me to post them because they loved them. I didn’t think they were good enough. I still don’t. You mention how my friend and I can write stories for each other on demand. It took me twenty years to get to that place.

So be patient with yourself. Writing is a habit, a journey, a practice. If you really want to write a book, prepare to settle in for the long haul. The only way to get better is to write. The only way to get the story out of your head is to write it. The only way to not suck is to practice the thing you suck at. There’s no magical tricks, no secret ingredient, no special shortcuts. You just gotta write.

Of course, nobody is forcing you to do this. Please do not take this as some kind of “do this or else” message. But if you really, genuinely want to write something you’re proud of, then the only solution is to practice writing, and accept that improvement takes time.

“But what if I sit down and there’s no inspiration?” you say. Well, there’s the voice recording as I said, but also, treat writing like brushing your teeth. It’s not an art. It’s a habit that you have to practice every day in order to train your brain until it becomes automatic. Write at the same time, do the same thing every time before you write (like walk the dog) and be sure to reward yourself afterwards (get a cookie). Doing the same thing at the same time will mean that now, at 10am after you walked the dog, your brain goes “oh writing time!” and turns on that part of your brain. And because there’s a reward, your brain goes OH BOY COOKIE!!! and that motivates your brain. Start small. Don’t go by word count, go by time. Set a timer and for ten minutes write, even if what you write is “I fucking hate this shit and I’m shit and everything is shit.” Write literally anything! “They do this and then this and then this happens.” YAY! Eventually you’ll be able to fill that time, and then increase it. 15 minutes. 20 minutes. 25. 30. An hour. Don’t write for too long without a break. Twenty minutes of consistent steady writing with a break is better than an hour staring at a blank Word doc.

Again: be patient with yourself!

That’s really the only advice I can give you. Please remember, nonny dear, what you are seeing is the result of twenty years of nonstop practice. “Wow she just churns them out!” Well, sure, now I can. I couldn’t for the first ten years. Sometimes just because I can churn ‘em out doesn’t mean they’re any good. And I have my bad days and rough patches too. I have my periods where I don’t write anything at all. So be kind to yourself. Treat yourself. You and your story deserve it.

#mads answers things #also nonny your analogies in your ask were lovely #so I suspect you aren't as bad of a writer as you think you are

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bonnie-barstow-of-flag · 3 years

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Killer Knightmares:

@avictimofthejazz an au based off a KR season 2 episode of the same name & knight of the drones vibe.

Dr. Bonnie Barstow is dutifully diligent with all of her work. She obsesses over even the most minuscule and trivial details to achieve perfection. It’s one of the many reasons she’s been added to the staff at the University of San Francisco under the supervision of the reputable David Halston.

___

It’s virtually unfathomable how much damage an ill-programmed microchip the size of a finger-nail could inflict. A twisted sense of insatiable fascination clutches a bewitching grasp over her complete attention. The tiny chip captured under the view of the highly advanced microscope was an absolute marvel with it’s bright ridges of gold along with it’s small valleys and backroads paved in a far duller shade of silver. It’s a coded maze that Bonnie can easily interpret. One infinitesimal change to the programming can mean the difference between life and death. Bonnie’s searching, seeking out the one piece of the prototype keeping it from functioning as designed. She could never and would never give the go-ahead on anything that could be considered dangerous. Even more so given the incidents that occurred because of Karr.

“There’s a call for you on line four, Bonnie.” Comes Halston’s abrupt half-careless words. Placing indelicate hands upon the slopes of her shoulders, he continues. “I’m starting to feel like your personal secretary.” It’s a gripe he made in earnest. He’s been, in no uncertain terms, telling her former associates to stop calling for months now. That Bonnie’s happier here without them hounding her. He delighted in being able to get her to refuse their offers to have her return. Of course, David hadn’t bothered to asked permission to make those direct assertions. He just did. Dr. Halson needed her. Even if Bonnie wasn’t fully aware of it, she had become vital to the success of his and Margo’s operations.

He leans over her shoulder to take a non-committal glance at her progress with the microchip. “It’s quite strange really.” He cryptically starts. The rest of the explanation failing to come as an immediate continuance.

Skeptical, Bonnie’s turquoise orbs lift towards her revered mentor while he speaks. Worry warps her usually beautiful countenance as she discovers herself clinging to his every utterance. Every easy breath hinged upon what would come next.

When her attention is fully upon him, he reveals against the shell of her ear all that he’d been biting back. “It’s a hospital near Los Angeles. A nurse Langly from Hoff Medical Center or other. She ‘claims’ it’s urgent.” There’s a deep trench of sarcasm imbued when his lips reach the word “claims”. He is well aware that she has no real family in the city. At least no one she should want to have contact with, given all the bridges he’s helped her burn. The remnants of her family were located in Boston. His eyes befall her with the great expectation that she’d pass it off.

Halston’s blasé indifference to the potentially serious situation doesn’t settle right with her. It lays like a load of swallowed bricks and mortar, in the formation of a thick, impenetrable, unmovable wall might; uncomfortably heavy. “I...” She swallows thickly, “I’d better get that.” The brunette rises from the stool she had been occupying and brushes past him. “It’s probably a crank call.” Arrives her half-hopeful utterance as she moves towards the thick plastic phone.

Sweeping a buoyant wake of chestnut barrel-rolls from her face, she lifts the receiver to her ear. “Dr. Barstow speaking. How can I help you?” She answers. Her lower-lip tucking between her teeth as she actively listens to the other voice. Twirling her fingers around the curly-q chord, she attempts to sort her thoughts. “Wait? What?” Panic bubbles upwards in her tone. Her once lax stance stiffens against the nearest wall. Her grip on the phone tightens to prevent it from slipping from her hand. “Are you sure?” A pause. “Could you repeat that name again?”

Nurse Langly patiently repeats, “Michael Long.” After a few seconds, she adds, “you’re his emergency contact.”

The warmth and color that usually could be found in Bonnie’s features drains as the gravity of the situation is rapidly dawning upon her. This was either a twisted macabre prank or it was a genuine emergency. Hardly anyone outside the Foundation knew that name or the history behind it. To invoke that name was to tug at Bonnie’s heartstrings. She has no other choice but to go investigate. If it was Michael and he was in trouble, she would never be able to forgive herself for ignoring his call.

Was it possible that he still had her number in his wallet? That Michael had never gotten around to changing his ICE list? If he hadn’t- why?

“Keep him there as long as you can.” Bonnie tersely instructs. Her heart skips a series of beats as she continues, “I’m leaving now.” With a glance down at her own delicate wrist watch, she calculates the amount of time it’ll take her to get that location. “I should be there in a few hours.” As she puts down the receiver, Bonnie contemplates ringing Devon and the Foundation. But she doesn’t. Not until she can fully ascertain if this is a joke or not.

Halston snags the frantic brunette’s wrist as she races towards the door. Throatily he demands, “where do you think you’re going? I didn’t give you permission to leave, and I know class hasn’t been dismissed. If you leave in the middle of our project, you’ll be costing the University thousands of dollars. You’re potentially destroying any hopes you had of a scholarship.” His concerns obviously rest with their work.

She wrestles her arm back from her professor’s clutches. Turquoise orbs darken when they lock upon Halston’s. Her expression is obviously deeply wounded and yet, out of respect for her mentor, she delays. “I’m sorry. I have to go...” Her words leave no uncertain airs about them. “I’ll be back when I can.” Bonnie is well aware that her defiance of direct orders could potentially cost her this incredible opportunity. Yet, she does not care! The Foundation has and always would be a primary concern for her. It didn’t matter how much time had elapsed since her employment with them, they were her family.

Bonnie is keenly aware that Halston is beckoning for her, yelling intangible words in her wake. She doesn’t dare turn back now with her feet already set on a steady course.

----

Only one thought prevailed as the brunette lunges past other students and into the parking-lot. Michael Knight could be in real trouble, and he needed her. She can’t fathom any set of circumstances that would require resurrecting a name that should have been buried. In her gut, she knows something is terribly amiss. But what?

Seven hours of the endless highway and traffic sprawled between the former partners. Every minute of that time seemed to conjure up a fresh, new fear as to what the explanation could be. Internally, she had been running herself through an extensive list of people who knew Michael Knight before he was the man she’d grown to love. Stevie was murdered. Tanya walker died of a self-inflicted gunshot wound. Vernon Gray and the others were in rotting in jail.

With the review of every case, came the discomforting realization that Michael and the Foundation were in the habit of making ruthless adversaries. Some of them were worse than others.

A startling thought does occur to her. Garthe and Elizabeth Knight knew about Wilton’s pet project. He knew that his father rescued Michael Long from that cold Nevada desert. However, Garthe and Goliath had taken a swan dive off a cliff. He couldn’t be pulling a crude trick like this. He had to be dead. Or was he? Worse still, could this be the work of Garthe’s vengeful mother? No. Why would they call her for help and risk the Foundation foiling another one of their wicked plots? They wouldn’t. Not even if they were aiming for the absolute annihilation of Wilton’s every dream.

Could it be the Chameleon? No. The man couldn’t have uncovered Knight’s former life. As far as the skilled impersonator knew, Michael had always existed as Knight. His previous life was a mystery. Or so Bonnie hoped it had remained an unsolvable riddle.

Every trudged up possibility seems to leave Bonnie with more unanswerable questions. She returned, time and time again, to square one. Frustration wells up inside of her veins as the brunette settles on the idea that Knight’s run into deep trouble on an investigation. This had to be a cry for help.

-----

Whilst Bonnie Barstow was not known for speeding, her foot increases the pressure on the gas pedal. The rev of the engine increases. Tires find themselves turning over at a quicker and quicker rate. All four heated rubber tires give a squeal of relief when she finally pulls up in front of the Hoff Medical Center.

With haste, she abandons her car in the parking-lot and races inside. Flagging down the first nurse she can find, she spurts out. “Please, I’m here for Michael Knight.” Entreating eyes catch the vacuous look to the nurses eyes and she repeated her words. “I’m Dr. Barstow. I got a call at the University where I work. I’m here for my - Michael Knight...” Ah, that’s where the issue dwells. She cringes before correcting herself. “Michael Long.”

That name garnered the desired knowledgeable reaction from the nursing staff. “This way.” The blonde nurse instructs taking up the lead through the sanitized hallway, armed with her clipboard.

“Can... can you tell me what happened to Michael?” Bonnie fearfully presses. She swallows down every fear collecting inside of her veins and penting-up in her chest. Having a breath catch in her throat, she manages to choke out. “Is he -- is he alright?” The concern taking up residence in the concentric confines of her eyes is genuine. Lord knows, she wouldn’t be able to cope with losing him.

The nurse keenly eyes her. The sympathy evident upon all of her etched features. “We’re looking at a mild concussion and bruised ribs. He’s lucky that nothing is broken. He must be in really good shape. Built like a tank that fella of yours is.” Any other man would have been in far worse shape.

Bonnie is too taken aback by the diagnosis to correct the woman’s assumption about her and Michael. In fact, she nearly misses the correlation as she is ushered into the room.

“He’s a real charmer. Your Officer Long is.” The nurse adds casting a wink in her direction.

Officer Long? God. It still felt anomalous to hear that in a sentence even with their extensive history together. She knew about his past. She was there the day Wilton brought Michael under his care. Until today, it had been years since that name fell upon Bonnie’s ears. Now, all of the sudden, she couldn’t seem to escape the shadow of the vastly unused moniker.

“Tried to flirt his way out of X-rays and everything.” The nurse actively points out. Her amusement with the fact is fairly obvious.

A perfectly manicured brow raises as Bonnie seats herself beside the man she knows under a very different name. “He really is. Isn’t he?” She fondly agrees. That had always been a part of the problem between them. Hadn’t it? His natural charisma instantly endeared him to almost every woman on the planet. She vividly recollects that he had tactfully employed it on more than one occasion to get what he wanted. He was kind enough to polish his act every time he attempted to use it on her.

Until the moment Bonnie cast her eyes upon Michael, it hadn’t struck her how intensely homesick she’d been for his familiar presence. Her heart gives off a series of palpable pangs against her ribcage as if it was sending Mores Code. Rescue was not bound to happen. No one could heed an unspoken SOSes. Could they? Despite her efforts to reign the unruly muscle in, it kept barreling ahead like an out-of-control freight train down the tracks.

Why was it that only Michael could arouse such chaos inside of her even when she had striven so desperately to move on? She tried to replace him with Dr. Halston and many other guys. Yet, nothing could fill that awful void that Michael left behind.

In that moment, with his large frame half swallowed by the hospital bed, she uncovers a dangerous revelation. She still loved him. As loathe to admit it as she is, those deeply-rooted feelings exist. They dwell in the undismissable realms of shadows where buried emotions and feelings are destined to remain.

Bonnie’s trembling hand gingerly brushes a dark-chestnut curl from the expanse of his warm forehead. The fluffy texture under the worn-pads of her fingers causes a familiar ache to awaken inside of her. “Michael, sweetheart....” She coos the term of endearment with a gentle insistence. She dare not startle him awake after the hell he’s obviously been put through with his injuries.

Her own lips bend into a shaky smile. “I’ve come to take you home.” His home? Her home? The Foundation? It didn’t really matter so long as he was back with people who loved and would protect him. As long as he was safe, Bonnie would never issue a complaint.

#avictimofthejazz #tw: long post #tw: long replies #you do not have to match the length #90% of this was Bonnie setting the stage #bonnie barstow #Michael knight #Bonnie Barstow x Michael Knight #Michael knight x Bonnie Barstow #this probably needs like five more years of editing cause of my strong meds but I am choosing to release it after spending all day on it

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cloud9in · 3 years

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A Stellar Collision (Zoey x Mc)

Summary: Zoey and Bea encounter each other one night in Paris. A stellar collision takes place.

French Zoey??? I say yes. I nerded the hell out with this fic, but I think it’s amazing and beautiful.

Word Count: 1.9k

Zoey Club: @samanthadalton @penda-bear @robintora @satrinadia @tyrils-star @brycesgirl @gay-dinosaur-banana-milk-carton

Stellar Collision; ‘A stellar collision is the coming together of two stars caused by stellar dynamics within a star cluster’

***

Paris, France. Bea never thought that she’d travel alone, but here she was standing in front of the Eiffel Tower under the moonlight. This particular night was more magical than ever, the stars covered the sky like a light show. She gazed up at the celestial bodies that casted a heavenly glow on her face and smiled. France. She was really here.

“Oh that’s perfect! Stay just like that..”

A low voice startles Bea out of her thoughts as she yelps at the intruding stranger. “Oh my god you scared me!” The woman in front of her..who is insanely good looking, (very nice observation Bea), clamps her hand over her mouth to stop a giggle. She looked absolutely divine, Bea thought. Nothing compared to the stars.

“Forgive me miss! Or...er I didn’t get your name?” Her honey-filled, thick accent reminded Bea of a harmony probably only played at the gates of heaven. It took a few minutes for her to stop staring shamelessly, eyes wandering every inch of the mystery woman until it stopped at the paintbrush in her hand. Her face felt hot as she looked up directly into the stranger’s deep brown eyes, who winked in return. “...It’s Bea...or..honey...darling maybe?” Wow so smooth.

The brunette internally cringed at her attempt to seduce the stranger, but she was caught off guard by the sweet laugh earned in response.

“Ah..well darling it is. You may have the privilege of calling me Zoey. Zoey Wade.” The darker woman grinned brightly, a pearly white smile contrasting her purple shade of lipstick. She wore a white long sleeve turtleneck which was neatly tucked into a tight, perfect fitting leather skirt. Her beret matched the color of her lips, and a nice pair of Louboutin black patent leather pumps were on her feet. Zoey was drop dead gorgeous, and she knew that. She could tell how attracted Bea was by the way her mouth hung open. Nice job Bea.

The brunette raised a single eyebrow in curiosity, “privilege huh? I’ll say…” She cleared her throat and straightened up, “well what I meant to ask was...what were you saying earlier? Before I jumped out of my boots.” Zoey peered down at her paintbrush and back to the woman in front of her amusingly. “Oh yes well, I like to take part in street art occasionally when I’m not in the studio or managing a fashion week.” Oh so she must be a fashion designer? Well of course she is Bea, look at her.

“...and the way you gaze up at the stars reminds me of a certain love and intensity, I just had to capture it on my aisle.” Zoey gestures towards her setup behind her which went unnoticed by the brunette. In fact, everything was quite a blur for Bea in the moment. Uhhh earth to Bea Hughes? The most beautiful woman in the world is talking to you, the least you could do is respond. Zoey smiles silently, patiently waiting for the flustered girl to ground herself, once more. And when she does, the only word she can muster is, “..wow.”

“Wow? But I haven’t even begun to paint you yet my darling! I think you would be quite satisfied with the results but only if you listen to my wishes.”

And so Bea did. She looked up at the sky again and relaxed her shoulders, a blissful feeling already beginning to surround her. The stars looked different now, she couldn’t focus as much, but when she did, Bea swore there was a faint outline of the darker woman’s features up in the sky. Maybe she was going crazy. Or maybe she just couldn’t get her out of her mind. The pair stood in comfortable silence as Zoey painted away, stopping occasionally to “study” Bea’s eyes, lips, and volumized curls. It’s all part of the technique. The brunette felt self conscious whenever she caught Zoey staring but it would immediately melt when their gazes connected, a feeling of warmth and affection fluttering like butterflies in her stomach.

“So... Zoey right? That doesn’t sound very French.”

The darker woman stroked her brush against the aisle skillfully, a light chuckle escaping her lips. “Indeed. My father was actually American, and well being his only child, he did the honours. My mother wanted to name me Zoé, (pronounced zaw-eh) but father already figured I’d have so much of my french roots and he wanted to contribute to at least something.” Zoey concentrates thoughtfully, her eyes softening at the mention of her parents.

Bea peels her eyes off of the sky and watches the woman with fondness. “He would be really proud of you...I know I may have just met you, but you have this gift of luring people in. Of...making them want to stay. You’re like home...I- I don’t know how to explain it...”

Zoey stops painting and observes the brunette, whose eyes only cast a shadow of love.

Bea looks away at the intensity of Zoey’s stare. Her voice breaks the silence, it sounded more soft and vulnerable, with a hint of that smoky accent. “Look at me.”

When their eyes met for the millionth time that night, it felt different. Bea felt complete. Like she was sharing her soul with the woman in front of her. She felt comfortable, with herself, and with everything around her. Zoey started to paint again as Bea watched her closely, formulating the right thoughts in her head. “Hey Zoe?” She subtlety moves her head towards Bea to hint that she’s listening, and the brunette’s eyes twinkle with delight. “Do you believe that we are all connected somehow?”

Zoey folds her arms in thought, “Yes...I do. There is...something called a human energy field. And within that field lies the magnetic pull of human hearts.” She looks tenderly at the brunette, “some may feel a strong pull in their hearts even when miles away. And when the two individuals finally meet, their energies combine like a stellar collision.” Bea stares at her with a certain passion she never felt before. Beautiful, incredibly intelligent, and a poetic flirt? Now that’s a woman.

Zoey sets her paintbrush down and rotates the aisle so it's in full view for Bea. The brunette gasps loudly, her breath catching in her throat. The painting portrayed a stunning image of Bea with the Eiffel Tower behind her, the vibrant golden lights reflecting off her curls and silhouette. In the back, a depiction of maybe a million self-luminous stars painted the sky, and if you looked closely, some were constellations. What stuck out the most was the look on Bea’s face. Her expression suggested that she was looking at something mesmerizing, her eyes sparkling with wonder. And that was true, Zoey was otherworldly. Bea admired the portrait in awe, “It’s perfect Zoey, oh my god.”

“You have a knack for stars eh? Such a nerd.”

The brunette laughs in joy as Zoey teases her. She raises a hand to her chin in thought, “You sound like a natural born American. Who are you and what have you done with my Zoey?”

“Oh your Zoey huh?” She smirks when Bea’s face turns impossibly red. Zoey detaches the portrait and struts towards the brunette, holding out the newly finished gift. “For you darling, to remember this night like no other.”

Bea hesitates to grab it, “Are you sure you don’t want to keep it? I mean what if we never see each other again? I could be the mystery person that you tell people stories about when they come to your gallery one day.” Bea wiggles her eyebrows playfully at the suggestion.

“Well first off, there’s only so much to tell about one night. And a gallery? I think we’re getting ahead of ourselves.”

“Oh we’re definitely not!”

Zoey laughs pleasantly at the brunette’s confidence, brushing away a few strands of curls that fell out of place. She looks carefully at Bea and then to the painting, “Darling, the memories of tonight are enough to last me quite a while. I’ll never forget it and I don’t need this to remind me. I’ll admit, if I kept this then everytime I look at it, it would only make me think of you.”

“...and that’s a bad thing..?”

“Yes.”

“Ouchhh Zoe.”

She chuckles gently at the pout on the brunette’s face. “Oh you baby I didn’t mean it like that.” Zoey as she takes a deep breath, gathering her thoughts, “It’s just that after tonight, wherever you go in the world, I hope you don’t forget me so easily. I only wish that you would be by my side just one night longer every time I stare at this painting.”

“Is that what you tell all of your clients?”

That earned Bea a nice smack to the shoulder. Good job, you deserve that.

“Whattt I meant to say is that the night doesn’t have to end! We’re just getting started Zoey. I want to have an adventurous night out in Paris with you. You can show me how the French do it. And maybe paint me like one of your French girls next.”

This time Zoey was the one blushing a deep dark red. She dipped her head away before Bea could catch a glimpse of it. Zoey clears her throat before sitting in thought, “well... I always believed that you should do what feels necessary, and what feels right. Being here with you certainly feels right.” She glances not so discreetly at Bea’s lips, and wets her own in anticipation. The brunette can feel her burning gaze and follows the darker woman’s eyes as they scan every inch of her. A jolt of energy starts forming in her lower belly, her heartbeat steadily increasing while her knees went impossibly weak. There was a literal shift in the atmosphere and Bea swore they weren’t this close before, but the feeling of Zoey’s breath on her cheek told her just how close they became. “...Can I do something that feels right?”

When Zoey nods, Bea wastes no time in pulling her against her body, one arm wrapping around Zoey’s lower waist and the other caressing her dark bronze cheeks. The kiss felt electrical, a burst of pleasure surging through their chests as they finally connected. Bea let Zoey take control immediately, her tongue pulsating in the brunette’s mouth as they french-kissed. The feeling was so overpowering as they both gasped for air after a few minutes. Zoey placed open-mouthed kisses along Bea’s jaw and neck and she moaned in pure bliss at the feeling. Don’t worry there’s probably nobody around to see them. Maybe.

When Zoey pulls back and looks at Bea, she smirks at how dilated her pupils have become. Someone’s excited. The brunette doesn’t let her tease any longer, sliding her hand gently across the french woman’s cheek, to the back of her neck, and pulling her hair until her neck is exposed. Their lips connect once more until both are too weak to stand any longer.

Through her shallows breaths, Bea smiles over at Zoey who has a dazed, yet look on her face. Yep. Nothing compared to the stars.

***

Part 2 ???

#queen b #playchoices #zoey wade #zoey x mc #mc x zoey #crying in the club at the lack of zoey fics #I also didn"t add in any French language because I'm afraid of butchering it

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ymiwritesstuff · 4 years

Text

I Want Him

HOOOOO BOYY Ok so this is going to be my attempt at writing some NSFW content. Now I have NO idea if this’ll be good, but I really hope you enjoy this. I’m really trying to avoid cringe lmao.. Also yeah, a bit of Yandere elements.

Jojo’s Bizarre Adventure Part 7: Steel Ball Run

Diego Brando x Fem!Reader

Summary: To you, Diego Brando was the perfect being that you desired to touch and feel. And during one fateful night, your wishes are finally granted

Notes: NSFW, Smut, Obsessive themes, Yandere-ish??

Perfection was almost impossible to find in any shape or form. Some didn’t know what it was until they witnessed it with their own eyes, others spent their whole life trying to achieve it. Perfection came in many forms; Humans, objects, words just about anything. People desperately searched for it in almost any way because to them, once that certain perfection was found their lives were complete and they could eventually die with no regrets.

It was as if a human being was lost and could only find their way once their eyes landed on that perfect thing. They pursued it, like animals hunting for their food but they would never get their hands on it, because even if they did, they wanted more. Humans were greedy, always desiring more and more to fuel their needs and nothing was enough.

And when your (E/C) eyes landed on Diego Brando, you finally knew what perfection was. It was as if the word had taken the form of the golden haired man cruelly teasing you with the fact that you’d never get to feel his burning touch. To you, Diego was beyond perfection, a God in a man’s body and after entering the race your heart ached, wanting to hear his voice, look into those stunning cyan orbs and feel his touch against you.

Your eyes would hungrily yet secretly follow him and thanks to a set of unfortunate events, you were blessed with the opportunity to travel with him. It was fate. Fate had given him his abilities and brought you to him. This was fate’s doing and it was on your side. You were in the presence of perfection. His eyes looked at you, his voice talked to you and on occasion his hand would lightly brush against you. Diego had acknowledged your presence, something you thought would never happen. You had caught perfection and you could freely admire it. But it wasn’t enough.

Just like any other greedy mortal, you wanted more. You needed more. His mere gaze and voice wasn’t enough. Your mind and body lusted for the side of him no one would ever see. The side of him that you secretly fantasized about. When he slept, you treated yourself with the thought of him ravaging you and making you squirm under him. You wanted to desperately grab onto him and feel his perfect body against yours. You wanted to fully grasp perfection. You wanted him and you could not wait any longer.

After finishing up with the quite modest, but necessary tent, you look behind your shoulder, delighted to see the burning flames of the campfire and Diego sitting in front of it, eyes glued to the warmth. With a smile, you get up and make your way to him, slowly sitting next to him. It felt surreal to be so close to him. His presence overpowered yours and you wished to worship his power. Your desires could not stay silent anymore, they ran wild within your head, urging you to crash your lips onto his and let him take you. However you had to stay patient.

Diego feels you hand a land on his shoulder, an action you often did so he paid little mind to it. However this time your hand moves and your fingers begin to knead the dense flesh caused by the constant riding. “You seem stressed.. You’re so tense,” Your voice holds an unusual playfulness that strangely pierces his ears. The movement of your hand doesn’t stop and neither does he try to stop it, which only amuses you.

“Does it matter? I have more important things to worry about,” Despite his words, you notice him closing his eyes and tilting his head as you work your magic on his shoulder. A low chuckle erupts from your throat and soon your other hand finds its way on his unoccupied shoulder. “Oh, it does matter, my dear Diego.. People tend to overlook the importance of relaxation..” The pressure from your fingers disappears but the blond can still feel your hands delicately running along his shoulders.

“Your performance is sure to falter if you don’t ease up a little..” You figure he has to know that your words held no true meaning, their only purpose being to soften him and eventually bring forth that forbidden side of him. Fortunately, he doesn’t resist your spell, which only encourages you further.

“Nonsense. And how does that concern you?” He looks at you and your heart begins to pound uncontrollably in your chest when you notice an unknown glint within those beautiful cyan orbs. For the first time it seems as if he’s looking at you with the same lust that fuels your gaze.

“It doesn’t. And I do not plan to tell you how to ease your tension unless you so desire. However..” The volume of your voice drops as you bring your lips dangerously close to his ear, one of your hands carefully holding the back of his head, the other remaining on his shoulder. “I can provide.. Other forms of assistance..” Your sensual whispers send shivers down Diego’s spine and once you slowly pull away from his ear, he looks at you and notices the thirst on your expression and eyes as you hold a cunning smirk on your lips.

“Is that so? Care to elaborate? What is it that you desire?” Your (E/C) lit up in excitement when you hear the playfulness and slyness embedded into his voice, something you had never heard before. Your stomach twists in thrill, your entire body is engulfed with warmth and your desire to feel the perfection in front of you begins to slowly cloud your vision. Not yet. You have to maintain the suspense. He wants you to say exactly what you want, but you can’t submit to him. Not just yet.

“Who knows? Why don’t you find out for yourself?” Suddenly, with one swift move, you’re thrown on the hard grown and the only thing you can see is Diego’s panting form hovering above you. His hands have a firm grip on yours, holding you against the terrain. Oh how much he wants to replace that mischievous smirk on your face with an expression that yearns and begs for him.

“Do not play games with me, (Name)..” The burning sensation in your core and between your legs only increases when you hear his low, lust filled voice. A voice which you had desired to hear for so long. He lowers his face dangerously close to yours, almost at his limit. “What do you want?”

“You know exactly what I want..” You’re right. He knows your deepest desire and is more than happy to fuel those desires but his pride doesn’t allow him to do so just yet. Though he has almost lost all control as the tightness in his pants craves to feel himself inside you, he has to hear those magic words from you. He needs you to submit, fall under his control so that he can fill you with endless waves of pleasure.

“Say it.” Your eyes widen at the new tone his voice takes. Behind it, you heard a low growl and once you notice the crack on the side of his face and feel his sharp claws digging into the skin of your wrists, your previous excitement reaches new heights. Diego is revealing the side of him that you’ve longed for. You are close. So very close. Finally, you can feel perfection’s touch, hear its voice and stare at it. You can’t resist anymore and neither can the increasing heat between your legs. You need him and you need him now.

“I want you.”

Once these words leave your mouth, Diego hungrily connects his lips with yours, his inhumanly long tongue caused by his ability slithering into your mouth. He releases your hands that you immediately wrap around his neck, unable to fight the urge to touch him and bring him closer. His own hands roam around your body, sensually caressing every curve, a growl escaping his lips with every squirm of your body.

Diego’s mouth moves work on the sensitive skin of your neck, your mouth letting out breathy moans of pleasure. You feel your top and bra being removed from your body, followed by the feeling of his land being laid on your breast. Your back arches at every touch and sound he lets out and your patience is finally rewarded. This was beyond what you were expecting. This was beyond perfection. Fate allowed this to happen. Fate was on your side.

And tonight, fate allowed allowed him be yours.

#jjba #jojo #JoJo's Bizarre Adventure #Jojo no Kimyou na Bouken #JoJo's Bizarre Adventure Steel Ball Run #jojo part 7 #jojo's bizarre adventure x reader #jjba x reader #jojo x reader #diego brando #diego brando x reader #jojo diego #diego x reader #jjba diego brando #reader insert #smut

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kasey-writes-stuff · 3 years

Text

Meeting

You had been walking aimlessly around the convention just seeing if you happened to spot any of your faves when suddenly... You spotted them...

You waited for the other fans that were talking to them to finish before shyly making your way over.

You quietly said a nervous

“Hi”

Accompanied with a very small wave

They smiled happily and brightly as they said

“Hi,what’s your name?”

You tried to speak up a bit to seem more confident and less nervous but couldn’t help the nervous uh that came out

“It’s uh ”

Their smile never waining and only seeming to grow as they say

“That’s a really great name”

You quietly but politely thanked them

They nodded happily as they asked

“So do you have anything you want me to autograph or do you want a hug or anything?”

You smiled slightly, starting to slowly feel less nervous and began to pull your small notebook out of your bag

“Uh yea I actually just have been having people sign this notebook so if you just wanna pick a page and sign or draw whatever you want that’s fine and I’d love a hug”

So they gladly take the notebook and flip to the closetest blank page taking their time to write something they don’t let you see and to also draw something. They hand it back and you look at it and blush seeing what they’ve written and drawn “

Dear , thank you for being such a big fan. It means a lot to have someone as incredible as you supporting

I love you,

PS.Don’t stop smiling it’s amazing ❤️ “

“Thank you so much that means more than you know”

You notice a hint of pink on their cheeks as they reply

“You’re welcome, I truly meant every word”

You put your notebook back in your bag as they open their arms for a hug, You gladly but also nervously go towards them accepting the hug. They wraps their arms fully around you, tightly but a very comoforting tight. The only thing is... as their hands and fingers gently drift down to your sides and squeeze ever so slightly you can’t help as you jump a bit and hold back a giggle... It casues for them to loosen the hug and for you to gently break away. They quickly apologize and ask if you’re okay

“Woah are you good?”

You nod your face now a deep red

“Uh yea... yea... it’s just uh- you um well...”

They patiently wait for you to be able to get your words out

“You accidentally tworded me...”

They were obviosuly confused which only manged to make you more embarrassed

“What’s tworded mean?”

You silently curse yourself for not being able to say the word, as you pull out your phone and type the word out as they stare curiously wondering what you’re doing

“Tworded=Tickled”

You show them your phone. They carefully take it and read it to their self before smiling and nodding saying

“Oh! That makes sense! So wait why don’t you just say tickled?”

You hold back a cringe of embarrassment,as you take the phone back and put it back into your bag

“I can’t say it... I just... I mean it’s not like I’ve never said it I have it’s just really hard for me to..”

You look away but they slowly and carefully grab your hands causing you to turn your head back towards them and to look up at them

“Hey it’s okay that you can’t say it, it’s actually pretty cute! But if you don’t mind me asking, is there a specific reason why you can’t say it?”

You can’t help but mentally facepalm, of course they would have to ask that

“I- uh- well um you see... it’s just... uh..”

Again they patiently wait as you try to come up with some excuse but after about ten seconds of not being able to think of one you sigh slightly before saying

“I can’t say it because I like it and it embarrasses me”

They seem confused at first as if maybe they didn’t hear you or were trying to process what you said, after a few seconds they smiles with a hint of mischief as they say

“No way that’s so cute!”

Your head snaps up from the ground as you say

“Shut up you don’t mean that and it’s not cute”

You cross your arms and pout a bit, feeling extra embarrassed and sinking deeper and deeper into a lee mood...

Their eyes become more full of mischief by the moment as they say

“Oh but it is, and I don’t think you want me to make you admit it is... or do you?”

Your mouth gaps open slightly as you wonder just how they’re so good at teasing like this. You have no verbal reply and instead take off smiling as you run. They smile as well realizing that was a yes.

“Okay you’re really in for it now!”

You nearly giggle as they say it and suddenly in no time they’ve caught up and wrapped you in a hug making you squeal slightly as they hold you just right enough to where you can’t escape

“Eep! Noooo!”

They snicker as thwt say

“I think we both know you mean yes..”

And with that they waste no time going to work spidering up and down your sides causing for your smile to widen as you squirm and whine slightly

Noooo”

They laugh before saying

“Wow you must be really ticklish cause I’m barely touching your sides and your already about to crack”

To the part of you who wants them to fully wreck you’s dismay they decide to move to your ribs a much less sensitive spot much to the delight of the part of you that wants to prove them wrong

“Shuut it I’m not t-that bad”

They nod noticing your reactions lessening

“Yea maybe your ribs aren’t that bad but I think I already found a sweet spot so I’ll just go back to it”

Their smile widens as they quickly go back to work on your sides but instead of spidering them they opt for lightly scratching quick circles on your sides making for you to jerk and squirm even more as your body instinctively tries to fight off the feeling.

“Noohooo nhahhattt tthehehrrhehehe!”

Their smile once again widens almost at a full smile now as they happily relish in your joyous giggles,but quickly becoming unsatisfied they switch to squeezing your sides! Causing for you to jump and start laughing

“AAHH NOOHOOOT THAHAHHATTT!”

They can’t help but laugh as they say

“Hahaha nice to see this technique work on someone else for a change”

You mentally note that possibly for plans later... as for now you’re too busy laughing to even think two minutes into the future let alone anymore than that! Their hands move closer to the sides of your stomach and your volume stays realatively the same but your octave increases as does your embarrassment

“EEEHEHEHAHAHHEHEHAHAHAHAH NNEHEHAHAHAHA!”

They can’t help but almost smirk slightly as they say

“Well well well another sweet spot hmmm? Say how many sweet spots do you have?”

They give you a slight break so you can breathe and answer

“I don’t know I’m really not tworded but I would say for sure at least two and that I know two where I’m not twordish”

They raise an eyebrow curiously

“And where would those spots be?”

You decide to opt for a straight forward answer despite feeling like they probably won’t believe you because these spots are such common spots

“My knees and my neck, my neck just never has been no matter whether people have tried to sneak up on me or even with my knowledge and my knees it just usually hurts whenever people try and squeeze them and the like spider thing just doesn’t affect me”

Much to your surprise though they nod and say

“I mean it makes since because everyone has different spots right? Like sure there’s common spots for everyone but not everyone has the same reactions on every spot,and I mean your knees and neck aren’t twordish at all but mine are two of my worst spots... I mean what...”

You can’t help the giggle as you say

“Haha well thank you for the info if I decide to get revenge I know exactly where to target first!”

They groan slightly before saying

“Well you won’t be getting revenge anytime soon if you’re too busy laughing!”

Suddenly their hands dart into your armpits wiggling at lighting speed. You squeal that being very unexpected and also your armpits being much more sensitive than you remembered...

“EEEEPPP HAHAHhahahahhaahhaHAHAHAHA ahahhahahaAahhHHAHAHAhahahah!”

You having no reply they guess that you’re probably reaching near your breaking point so they decide to go for one final thing... they quickly release you but just as quickly pin your arms above your head so you can’t go anywhere and lift up your shirt to where it rests just a few inches above your belly button. They decide to be sassy and say

“I really hope you like fruit, because I got a couple raspberries for you!”

You immediately start pleading out no’s as your pleads turn incoherent as you scream from the sensation before falling into silent laughter

“AAAAAAHHHH!”

They blow only a few more raspberries before gently wiping off your stomach with their hand and helping you sit up. You start slowly regaining your breath and giggle residualy from the ghost tingles

“Hehehehahha oookkhahayyy maybe I ahahmm kinda cute”

They smile happily as they say

“That’s the spirit! Now was that so hard?”

You roll your eyes as you say

“I guess not”

They smile even more but also blush and rub their neck nervously as they say

“Great! So that means no hard feelings right ehe...”

You smile before saying

“Oh no of course not!”

They sigh in relief but suddenly your smile turns into a smirk as you

“But that doesn’t mean I won’t get you back!”

They gulp as they say

“Uh uh geeze would you look at the time I actually have to go!”

You giggle as you take off after them

The end

#ticklish #tickling #tickle #tickles #oneshot

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lisinfleur · 5 years

Text

Right Beside You

The Request:

Her eyes were over you and you could feel it.

Unlike Margrethe, you weren't seeking the older sons' attention nor luring them into the space in between your legs trying to get yourself pregnant to warrant a life beyond the chains. And the queen noticed you were different.

You were born a slave. So, freedom was an unknown terrain for someone who served and had her needs granted throughout your whole life. You were meek and obedient. Never needed to be forced into any kind of work and despite your undeniable beauty, your meekness ended up not attracting the eyes of her sons, eager for the lustful women always surrounding them around.

With them slapping and fighting each other to grant Ubbe, Hvitserk, and Sigurd's needs, your attention was turned to the younger one's needs and you ended up learning everything Ivar needed to have a comfortable life - even when he never noticed you were the one providing it.

You learned how to make the ointment for his legs' wounds; the herb sachets for his room with his favorite scents to sleep; the way he liked his blankets and sheets - and his favorite ones for the coldest nights. You knew from his favorite clothes to the right time to lit the fireplace in his room to warrant the cold of the winter nights wouldn't invade his bedroom to bother his sleep.

And queen Aslaug was aware of your abilities. Especially the fact that you could sew leather with perfection - something she noticed when she caught you sewing Ivar's gloves when the stones ragged the thread that was keeping them altogether preventing him from spending his gold on an unnecessary new pair that would take days to adjust to his movements and become comfortable again.

So, when his brothers started fighting for Margrethe's ownership, complaining he was stealing the woman from them, Queen Aslaug had enough and called you.

"Here... Get up and leave, Margrethe!" she ordered, and Margrethe left the place beside Ivar, causing him to frown. "Sit down, Y/N," she commanded.

To what you answered, sitting by his side, obediently keeping your head low.

He knew you... The frown on his face became lighter.

"What are you doing, mother?" he asked, and so, she picked your hand and placed it over his for him to hold like he was doing to Margrethe's hand before you came.

"I'm giving her to you and solving this stupid dispute. Margrethe is yours," she said to his brothers who were looking at each other, surprised. "You had already fucked her enough for me to doubt any of you will know who's the father if she ever spits out a child! Keep her for yourselves, keep sharing her, do whatever you want with Margrethe. Y/N is Ivar's only and from today on she'll tend for his needs and his needs only, whatever they are."

Ivar looked at you, wondering if his mother was really giving him a gift. Margrethe was something all his brothers wanted, but none ever talked about you... Were you valuable like her?

"That's not fair!" Sigurd manifested and it immediately attracted Ivar's attention. "She's the only one who can sew leather properly and you will give her to Ivar! He'll ensure none of us will ever have her pieces again!"

Ivar's frown dissolved into a bright smile and he kissed your hand, caressing it with his thumb and looking at his brother almost maliciously.

"You bet I will..."

"And I don't wanna hear complaints, Sigurd! Y'all made your choices. Y/N is Ivar's and if he doesn't want her to sew for you, then you can ask Margrethe to learn or pay someone who does it for you instead."

Sigurd was really annoyed by her choices while Ubbe and Hvitserk were looking at each other, wondering if Ivar would sell your services for them when needed. However, Ivar seemed very pleased by your presence from that moment on, asking you to serve his mead and bring him pieces of food to his mouth - something you did without questions, separating portions of his favorite foods, mixing them the way he liked to eat.

It didn't pass unnoticed...

When the time came for bedtime, you went to his room with him to lit the fire, and he observed as you placed the wood ensuring the embers would last until the morning time without filling his room with smoke. He noticed the herbs you placed on the fire and the pleasurable smell that filled his room and he smiled, thinking it was the delightful smell he always had in his nights.

So, you were the reason why his room was always so comfortable for him.

You placed the ointment beside his bed and provided the herbs he would have to chew to prevent the pain to take his peace during the night and with everything ready, you stopped in front of his bed.

"I'll wait outside as you get yourself ready to bed, my lord," your voice sounded for the first time since he noticed you and Ivar smiled, pretending he was surprised.

"Oh, you speak!" he said, smiling bigger. "I thought you were mute. You spent the whole day silent by my side. Aren't you pleased by your new master, pet?"

The names weren't something that bothered you.

"No, my lord. You just didn't request me to speak."

Ivar giggled, straightening himself at his bed.

"So... You're that obedient... This is something that pleases me, dear Y/N," he said, patting the place by his side in his bed. "C'mere. Sit by my side, pet."

You feared he would ask you such things... But he was your master after all... Sooner or later, a master would order you to please him and you weren't in a position to deny it.

Ivar was a good observer: it didn't pass unnoticed for him that you cringed to his ask, sitting by his side without looking straight at him.

His smile became smaller...

"What? Fearing I'll ask you to touch me or please me as Margrethe does to my brothers?" he asked with a harsher tone, annoyed. "To serve my needs and my orders, you're dedicated. But when it comes to pleasing me, then you cringe... Just like she did!" he grunted, angrily, causing you to shrink a little in his bed.

"I'm sorry, master Ivar. It wasn't my intention to displease you," you said, lowering your head.

"But you do!" he growled back, annoyed. "All of you are the same. Moaning and pushing yourselves under my brothers like rutting bitches, cringing in disgust when coming closer to me!"

He was understanding everything wrong and you lift your eyes, looking at him and shaking your head negatively.

"It's not what you think, my lord..."

"Then what?" Ivar cut your sentence in the middle, growing angry very fast.

Something you already knew was common for the younger son of queen Aslaug.

"What makes you cringe under the thought of sitting by my side or having me asking you to please me? What makes all of you cringe to me when you're all smiles and lustful movements to my brothers?"

"I never touched a man before," you said, breaking his frown in a surprised, almost shocked expression.

"What?" he asked, losing his posture and you looked at him, almost ashamed.

"I'm afraid you ask me to please you because I don't know how to properly do it. I'm not like Margrethe... I know how to cook, and prepare ointments; I know how to lit a fire and keep your room warm, and how to beat your sheets and blankets so they'll be comfortable for the night. I know how to prepare the herbs and teas, how to ease the pain, how to sew leather, and even how to sew wounds and treat them. But..." you swallowed dry, looking at him once again. "I never touched a man. I never saw a man's nakedness nor get myself under any man before. My fear is to displease your desire by not being able to satisfy you properly, master."

His anger trickled down the drain almost instantly, impressing confusion in his face for a second before his mind could really figure out what you were saying: he would be the first and only man to ever touch you...

None of his brothers ever had you before him nor would ever have unless it was his desire. And it wasn't.

Ivar smiled once again.

One last question wandering in his mind when he looked at you with his beautiful blue eyes.

"Prove me what you're saying, slave," he said, commanding. "Treat my legs. If you're speaking the truth, then, this must not be any problem for you, right?"

Margrethe would cringe only by the idea of touching his legs once again. He could remember how she uncovered his body barely touching the sheet that had covered his legs, disgusted!

You, instead, readily got yourself standing.

"As you wish, my lord," you said, slowly uncovering his legs and looking at him. "I'll need you to take off your trousers, master Ivar."

What he did slowly, exposing his legs to your eyes, observing what would be your reaction to see the twisted bones, twisted fingers, the thin and broken skin.

Your face contorted and for a second he thought he would catch you lying, but your words caused him to pull back, waiting...

"I'll need a different ointment tonight, my lord, please forgive me... I didn't know you had deeper wounds."

He had, two deeper cuts and some burns from dragging himself around watching Margrethe's way from one of his brothers to another, fucking all of them seeking for their seeds...

His eyes continued following you as you searched in his bag of herbs for the necessary leaves and seeds to increase that ointment with what he would need.

You cared to cool down the new prepared enough for it to keep some warmth without being aggressive to his skin. When it was ready, you came closer, sitting by his side and touching his legs with gentleness.

He could see you weren't disgusted, nor your touches were light because you didn't want to touch him: your touches were light because you were avoiding hurt his already fragile skin.

One by one, you treated his wounds, bandaged where needed and ensured his feet were relaxed and clean, always touching him with precision and gentleness. At the end of your work, his legs were comfortably warm, his pain was considerably reduced, and his eyes were surprised over you.

"So... You're not disgusted with me."

It was an affirmation, not a question.

Ivar knew you weren't disgusted. He could see you weren't lying. And more...

You weren't like the others. You knew what he needed and you knew how to treat him to make him feel better not only physically, but somehow, you knew how to soothe his heart.

"I have no reason to be disgusted, my lord. You're a man, like all the others. With needs, like all the others. Master Sigurd has callosities in his fingers because of the oud. Master Hvitserk's beard sometimes stinks because of the number of different foods - and women - he tastes around. Master Ubbe's hair is hard to comb and he always manages to rag his clothes somehow. Each one of you has its own needs, my lord. I don't see any reason to..."

He touched your lips with his thick fingers, silencing your voice when you noticed he was looking straight into your eyes. His thumb slowly slid through your lips, moistening them with a few of your saliva, caressing the soft skin.

"You speak too much..." he smiled. "But I like the sound of your voice."

You blushed.

His fingers were rough, but somehow, it was shivering your skin, causing you to sigh when his hand slid to your neck, touching the sensitive skin.

"I don't mind if you never touched a man..." he said, and you felt Ivar's fingers in your nape, softly pulling your face closer to his. "I wanna be the first."

You barely had time to inspire before his lips mashed against yours, spreading his taste all over your mouth, surprising you with the sensation of being kissed by the first time.

Ivar's free hand pulled your waist and soon you felt your body against his. His hands caressing your waist and nape as his tongue asked passage into your lips, exploring, tasting.

Your skin shivered and you sighed against his mouth, breaking the kiss when his hand slid from your waist to your thigh, lifting your skirt, invading the cloth to touch your skin.

His eyes were still wondering if you would stop him. But you sighed a small moan, pecking his lower lip, almost asking for him to continue, closing your eyes and moaning in bliss when he dared to touch your untouched core.

"Master Ivar..."

His name dancing in your voice that way was enough proof for him to stop doubting you would be his. And it aroused Ivar more than anything in his life had ever warmed his body.

His kisses became stronger and he pulled you into his bed, embracing your waist and then, covering your body with his.

His kisses explored your body like Margrethe didn't allow him to do, and his hands knew your sweet spots one by one, exploring the skin you allowed him to expose when he started untying your dress.

Ivar took his time to explore your body the way he wanted to do before, learning what could make you moan his name louder, what would make you hiss in pleasure under his touches. He tested in your body every single thing he saw his brothers doing, kissing your skin, tasting your folds, touching your breasts... All his doubts were satiated in your moans filling the room and surprising his brothers reunited outside, not really understanding why Margrethe had lied to them about his ability to please a woman: if he wasn't able like she said, then what was dragging his name so many times out of your mouth?

When the time came to make you his, he got you mounting his lap instead of locking you under his weight as he did to prevent Margrethe from fleeing out of his touches. Unlike her, you willingly mounted his hips, embracing his neck, kissing his lips almost eagerly, taken by desire in a way he didn't expect to see.

You wanted to feel him. You wanted his skin against yours. You were moving to make it easy for him to reach you, finding positions where his legs wouldn't be a problem for him to touch or explore your body. You wanted to please him as much as he wanted his moans and it got him a hard boner he never had before.

As a way to compensate you for the pain of having his body stretching your walls, Ivar touched your clit, rubbing it the way he learned would make your body pleased while he was slowly getting into your virgin entrance.

The feeling of your body embracing his and the way you pressed his shoulders, embracing him tighter for support instead of pushing him away from you or looking away from the two of you were really impressive for him.

No woman has ever got him so horny for so long as you were doing with your movements, shyly waving your hips against his, getting yourself used to the tight sensation of being full of his cock.

Your moans mixed to his filled the night and in the next morning, you woke up with his fingers sliding through your naked back. It was already clear morning and you sighed, surprised you had slept so much in his bed.

"Oh, dear Freya! I'm sorry, master Ivar!" you said, preparing to get up.

You should long be working to prepare his breakfast and morning bath! You were late for the first time you could ever remember!

However, Ivar's arms wrapped around you, preventing you from getting up, pulling you back into his arms.

"Stay," he commanded, taking a deep breath into your hair, feeling the scent of sex mixed with his smell on your skin, pleasing him with the idea he wasn't unable as Margrethe made him think.

Instead, he had you through a whole night, moaning for him, marking his skin with your embrace and thin nails, giving him delicious memories his mind was enjoying while his fingers were running your sweaty skin.

"Master..." you mumbled, confused.

Shouldn't you be working?

"Ivar," he answered, looking at you. "Call me Ivar from now on. I don't wanna think you did what you did just because you're my slave and have no other choice."

You noticed what he was thinking and what he was trying to avoid.

Once again, your voice sounded smoothly into his ears.

"I never thought you would want me, Ivar..." you mumbled, still feeling strange to call him by the name. "But I like to know you were the first."

His lips curled into a smile and he caressed your face softly.

"And I'll be the only one. You can be sure, my sweet, sweet Y/N."

His words sounded sweet into your ears and he kissed you deeply, almost... Passionately.

That morning, he left his room late for the breakfast, but there was a smile on his face when he sat in his chair, pulling you by the hand to sit beside him.

"It seems you enjoyed your gift, Ivar," his mother said, smiling with the satisfaction stamped on his face.

"We all heard how much," Sigurd taunted, this time failing in getting his expression angry towards him.

Instead, Ivar smiled genuinely towards his brother, causing all of them to look impressed at that unusual scene.

"Good to know it was audible, dear Sigurd," he said, caressing your thigh with his hand over your leg instead of holding yours this time.

You were preparing his piece of bread with butter, spreading it the way you knew he liked.

"What did he promise you for that show, dear?" Sigurd kept provoking, speaking directly to you this time. "What were his promises or threats for all those fake moans?"

You looked at Ivar almost asking permission to answer, to what he nodded, interested in what would you say.

"Forgive me, Prince Sigurd. I don't know too much about relationships and it's really unknown for me the need of a man to promise something or threat a woman for her moans of pleasure. If there is that need in your relationships, then maybe master Ivar can teach you how to freely have them from a woman in bliss... He really knows how to get them from me, I'm sure he would teach you some good ways to make a woman moan for you without needing to threaten her."

Hvitserk coughed, choking with his bread. And Ubbe couldn't prevent his lips to curl, despite his effort to hold back the laugh that almost cost him a broken rib.

However, Sigurd couldn't hold back his tongue.

"What do you think you are to speak like this to a prince, slave?"

You were about to apologize when Ivar came in your favor.

"Not yours, to start with. She had my permission to speak her mind and you're nobody to tell her she can't do what I allow her to do. And more..." he turned towards his mother. "I know Ubbe is planning to marry Margrethe. I agree with you, mother when you say we're passed the time to choose our women. I'll follow my brother's example and marry my beautiful Y/N."

You gasped.

Marry him??

"What? She would never marry a man like you, Ivar. You're just abusing your power as her owner to force her into marriage," Sigurd spat again and this time, you just spat back, taking advantage of the previous permission your master gave you to speak.

"I don't see why I wouldn't accept such a strong man like Ivar to be my husband, prince Sigurd," you said, acid. "Even if I wasn't captive and he wasn't my master, I wouldn't see anything but a blessing from the gods to have such a man wanting me to bear his children! And bless me Freyr, so I can give him many children to carry his strength and his name forward. Instead of losing your time taunting Ivar's angry, you should occupy yourself of finding a woman who wants to carry your name beyond the oblivion."

Aslaug smiled. She wasn't leaned to accept her son marrying a slave especially when Ubbe was already doing the same and inserting a lower lineage into their family. However, there was the proof you weren't anything but the perfect woman to her son: someone who could see beyond his stigmas the amazing man she rose couldn't be less than the perfect choice.

"I bless this union," she said, smiling at Ivar. "I'll provide her freedom and everything that's necessary for your marriage as well, my son. And Sigurd, I suggest you start respecting your sister-in-law and hear her wise words won't make you any harm. Go find yourself a woman that occupies your mind so you'll stop thinking about ways to bother your brother, uh? Hvitserk as well, go and find someone able to cook the tons you eat," she said, causing Hvitserk to stop chewing surprised that the subject suddenly turned towards him. "With some lucky, until the end of this season, I'll have all the sons of Ragnar Lothbrok producing his grandsons!" she said, excited.

Ivar raised his cup, kinda ironically teasing Sigurd with a smile.

"Skål, brothers," he said, followed by Ubbe and Hvitserk who shyly rose their cups as well.

Defeated, Sigurd had no other option but a disgusted smile, lightly lifting his cup before drinking it almost entirely.

And you remained smiling while Ivar's hand softly caressed your chin.

The wife of a prince, maybe a future queen.

Who could imagine your life would turn like this...

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#history vikings #imagine vikings #ivar #ivar the boneless #ivar imagine #ivar x reader #ivar x OC #ivar ragnarsson #ivar lothbrok #ivar's heathen army #sister wives #5CW #5CW Event #5CWIvar2 #headcanon #shot

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rosezure · 3 years

Text

Songbird 3 - Firey

Songbird - Chapter 3

A/N: This chapter is more of a filler. But, it does involve a certain 🔥asshole🔥 getting knocked out. So, yey? I guess? Anyways, hope y’all enjoy it.

Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to the BNHA/MHA universe, nor its characters. This work is intended for entertainment purposes only. My own characters are, however, of my creation.

Content warning: yelling, fights, tattoos, minor violence, swearing. Please, let me know if I’ve forgotten anything!

Summary | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2

"Someone infiltrated HPSC two nights ago."

"Did the intruders take anything?"

"The higher-ups aren't sure."

"Do you think it was a group of villains?"

"We shouldn't be talking about this... Especially not here..."

Tomura Shigaraki heard the whispers of the guards outside his cell. He smirked, wondering how long it would take for him to get out of there. Judging by the recent events, either it was a new group looking to take those arrogant heroes down or, his old comrades were up to something.

The news that the all-powerful HPSC had its walls penetrated somehow spread like a celebrity's scandal. The atmosphere was heavy, unstable. Workers struggled to feel safe within the walls of the agency for the first time since its creation. Unrest was the new norm.

Keigo was shaken. Yes, he hated the Commission with a passion. But they were a law enforcement organization. They were supposed to be the epitome of safety and stability in society. Hell, it had been his first stable home once.

But why were they openly talking about it? In Keigo's experience, the Hero Commission had always kept things lowkey. They were pretty adamant in hiding his past and Endeavor's wrongdoings. Why were they basically advertising that their security system was breached?

What game was the Hero Public Safet Commission playing?

Keigo's eyes narrowed as he watched the news in the teachers' room. Aizawa sat next to him, sipping on some tea. The older hero knew what game it was: diversion. He knew the agency was dirty and corrupt. Someone was probably trying to expose them; this was the president's attempt to vilify the perpetrator before they got the upper hand.

"They're trying to make sure civilians take their side," Aizawa answered Keigo's unasked question. The blonde turned to him with wide eyes.

"That would make sense," He scratched the stubble on his chin, "They're dirtier than the Yakuza..." Keigo trailed off, unsure if he should be unpacking this in such a public setting. He looked at his colleague, anticipating his reaction.

"You can say that again," Aizawa Shota dared to scoff and continue to sip his tea, as though he had just confirmed some mundane gossip.

The two left it at that, with Keigo going as far as turning off the TV just before two other teachers walked in. Ryo and Hizashi were gossiping about the new foreign teacher.

"I bet she can help me with some musical activities for my students," Hizashi clapped his hands in excitement. "Everyone knows learning another language is tons more fun when music is involved!" He raised a finger in the air, wiggling his eyebrows.

"I heard she has a healing-type quirk," Ryo growled, "Maybe she can help Recovery Girl, too. Though no one really knows how her quirk actually works. Nezu wouldn't tell me a single detail." The counselor scowled.

"Aizawa! Hawks!" Hizashi beamed when he noticed the two.

"It's Keigo," The young man corrected with a polite smile.

"Right! I keep forgetting you told the Commission to suck it and started using your first name!" The loud man chuckled. "GOOD FOR YOU!" He cheered a little too loudly for the others in the room.

"So..." Keigo tried to sound casual and unconcerned, "What do you know about this new chick?"

"Keigo," Ryo's gruff voice sounded teasing, "Are you perhaps... Curious?" His teasing smirk broke through, making Keigo get defensive quickly. Ryo took a seat next to him.

"What?! No!" He cursed himself for replying so fast.

"Don't bother hiding it," Aizawa advised as he got up to put his teacup in the sink. "Ryo can read pretty much everyone. And he's hardly ever wrong so, just be honest."

"Okay, yeah, I'm curious." Keigo slumped in his seat, crossing his arms.

"Boy, me too! Nezu is being so secretive, and I'm itching to meet her!" Hizashi added, grabbing a cup of coffee and sitting next to Aizawa at the round table.

"Do you think she speaks Japanese? Or will she have a translator with her at all times? I heard her people speak something called Tupi-"

"Hizashi, I'm sure she speaks Japanese." Aizawa placed a hand on the blonde's shoulder.

Hizashi squinted. "How do you know?"

"I've met her once."

This statement caused a commotion. Indignant cries of "why didn't you tell us!" and "you sneaky bastard!" sounded throughout the room. Aizawa sighed. He should've kept his mouth shut.

"Now you have to tell us everything!" Aizawa doesn't remember the last time Ryo looked so curious.

"Fine, but only if you all shut up!" He grumbled, already rubbing at his face in frustration. The three nodded excitedly. They unconsciously scooted closer, causing Aizawa to groan in the back of his throat. He really should've kept his mouth shut.

"I met her about five years ago. It was around the Emperor's birthday celebrations. The Queen of Pindorama was visiting for diplomatic reasons. A few days before the birthday ceremony, the Prime Minister invited some pro-heroes and Her Majesty to an informal dinner." Aizawa recounted, trying not to cringe at the memory of his etiquette mistakes. The other three men listened closely, doe eyes trained on him.

"I guess it was a show of the alliance the two countries had recently formed. Pindorama had some supplies Japan could use, I think. I'm not sure about the politics. But I do remember it was a recent union, and the Prime Minister was ecstatic about it." Aizawa shrugged. "Anyways, that's when I first met her-"

"FIRST?!" Hizashi's voice boomed, interrupting Aizawa's story. This earned him a hush from the other two. "Sorry!" He whisper-yelled, gesturing for Shota to continue. He rolled his eyes and cleared his throat.

"It was the first time I saw her. The Prime Minister introduced us all. All Might was definitely there, and I think so was Endeavor. There were some other Tokyo-based heroes too, but I don't remember who they were. After we finished our introductions, the Queen introduced the officials she'd brought with her. In Pindorama, they don't have heroes. They're called champions there, and they serve the Queen and the people.

"I remember feeling intimidated by them. I was a pro, so I felt ridiculous. But thinking back to that day, I'm not sure how I managed to stand straight in front of them. They were all very tall, muscular, and stoic. You could feel power emanate from them-"

"Never pegged you as the poetic, descriptive type, Shota," Hizashi snickered behind his hand, teasing the raven-haired man. Ryo quietly slapped him up the head. Hizashi made a noise of protest but quickly realized he had interrupted the story. Again.

"Anyways," Aizawa gave Hizashi a warning stare, "They looked lethal. But on the Queen's right stood a young girl. She was maybe a few inches over five feet. She was all-around small and fragile looking. I could see the other heroes think the same: what was a small teen like her doing with a group of strong champions?"

"Okay, I promise this is a valid interruption," Hizashi raised his hands up defensively, "Why was a supposed young healer doing at a demonstration that included the country's top pro-heroes?" He raised an eyebrow.

"That's actually a pretty good question," Keigo admitted, "But I bet it was to heal the injuries of the heroes if they got any." He uncrossed his arms, placing his elbows on the table. He put his face between his palms, looking at Aizawa expectantly.

"I think Keigo is right," Ryo huffed.

"I was getting to that," Aizawa closed his eyes and sighed. "Maybe I should resume the story some other time."

"NO!" The three chorused. Aizawa's right eye twitched. "Fine. But get me a cup of water. I'm parched."

Hizashi was fast to get up and fetch a glass of icy-cold water. He set it down in front of Aizawa with a blinding smile.

"As I was saying, we were all kind of questioning her presence. She seemed way too weak to be at the Queen's side so protectively. Man, were we wrong. We had a few friendly duels. The Prime Minister and the Queen sat at the side of the makeshift arena we were all in. I was matched with a man with long straight white hair and gray eyes. He took off his shirt to fight me, and when I tell you, I could barely see his skin under all those tattoos..." Aizawa seemed engrossed as he narrated the details.

"Most of the duels ended in a tie. Only Endeavor and the girl were left. He seemed extremely hesitant to fight such a tiny teenager, but the Prime Minister was right there. Endeavor didn't have a choice, so he tried to be as careful as he could. But she just stood there, barely moving as she evaded his attacks."

"You're telling me Mrs. Smalls was toying the Endeavor?" Hizashi giggled in delight.

Aizawa shrugged. "Pretty much, yeah."

Keigo smirked. Months ago, he would've paid to see his idol fighting a foreigner. But now? Oh, he'd pay good money to see the young girl play around with Enji Todoroki.

"He noticed that, too. You could just see his eyes glaring. He was getting frustrated and angry. Endeavor probably felt humiliated, which made him even more aggravated. Finally, after minutes of taunting him, he broke. He sent a sizeable flame ball her way." Aizawa bit his lip to prevent himself from laughing at the memory.

Endeavor had been sweating. This tiny girl was making him sweat, and all she was doing was evading his attacks. After seeing how easily she deflected his strikes, Endeavor started increasing the power behind his flames. But she just continued smiling and barely moving out of the way.

The exasperation painting his face red was humoring her. He was her little toy, and they both knew it. Fuck, even the Prime Minister and the Queen could see it. But Endeavor wouldn't allow her to win without even using her quirk. He could tell she was holding back. This made him even more furious.

He prepared the strongest fireball he could create in those circumstances and threw it directly at her. The flames seemed to hit their target this time. But, when they cleared out, there was no one there.

"Oi! I'm up here!" A feminine voice yelled above them, in Japanese. Endeavor slowly looked up, and there she was: hovering, blindingly-white wings fluttering behind her.

The girl was smirking down at him, and Endeavor really lost it. He flew up into the air as he prepared a massive attack to hit her. This time, she wouldn't be able to escape. Her wings would succumb to the heat of his flames, and he'd win his match.

"Except he didn't." Aizawa chuckled lightly, "The girl was too cunning. She predicted his pattern of attacks and flew in his direction. She took him out with a calculated punch to the side of his face."

"She knocked Endeavor out of the sky?!" Keigo squawked, baffled by what he was hearing. A tiny teen K.Oed his former idol and top hero.

"Yeah, she did," Aizawa sighed, crossing his arms, "But she managed to catch him before he fell and carefully placed him down. She even bowed to his unconscious body. It was both hilarious and terrifying."

"Oh, I like her already!" Ryo growled in approval.

"Same!" Hizashi bellowed with laughter, bending himself.

"So she's tiny, fast, smart, and has white retractable wings." Keigo listed off, removing his face from his hands.

"Yeah, that's her." Aizawa nodded.

"Anything else we should note?" Hizashi gave him a toothy grin and wiggled his eyebrows.

"Actually, yes," Aizawa stood up, "Her eyes. I've never seen colder eyes in my life." With that, he strolled out of the room.

The other three groaned, knowing they'd be left in their curious state. Leave it to Aizawa to make a dramatic exit with a cliffhanger.

"Why did I bother with stealth if they were supposed to find out, Santos?" Asa hissed at the man on her phone's screen.

"Because you didn't want to get caught!" He rolled his eyes, "And mind your attitude. You'll be a teacher and nurse in just a few hours. Try to seem approachable at least."

"I am not here to be buddy-buddy with a bunch of wannabe teen champions." Asa's fist collided with the armrest of her seat.

"You are there representing her Majesty, the Queen of Pindorama. You. Will. Behave. Accordingly." Santos slapped both hands on his desk, his voice booming through the speakers.

Asa huffed, crossing her legs and arms.

"I'll try. For my Queen." Asa smiled sarcastically.

"Drop the acid," Santos sighed in frustration, "Look, Asa. If they publicize about it, it means they're covering something up. This means your mission served its purpose." His hands gestured the sequence of thoughts.

"To confirm the Prime Minister's suspicions on how transparent the agency really is." Asa realized as she uncrossed her arms. "Okay, that makes sense. I guess I'm just sensitive due to the jetlag. Now, can you explain why I had to leave so abruptly if I wasn't due at the academy till tomorrow?" She asked, her tone softer.

"To divert." Santos sat back into his chair, tension leaving his shoulders.

"Yeah, makes sense." Asa looked down at her boots. She felt drained.

"Asa, are you okay?" Santos frowned, sensing her unease.

"Am I ever?" She joked with a sad smile.

Becoming a healer wasn't something she looked forward to. She still heard her tribe's cries almost every night. How would she handle remembering and learning about them? What if her quirk had vanished?

Sensing her fear, Santos called her name softly. Asa looked back up to the screen and took a deep breath to calm herself.

"This will be good for you. There won't be any nosy royal healers forcing you to train your quirk. You won't have to write reports on your wings' condition. You'll learn on your own, at your pace." Santos offered a kind smile, a rarety.

"Thank you, San," Asa smiled back, "I'll be landing soon. Once I get settled, I'll message you and Caique. Tell him I said hi, please?" She uncrossed her legs, moving closer to the screen.

"Of course," Santos nodded, "Oh! Her Majesty wants to say hello!" He excitedly turned the camera to the monarch.

"Hi, my darling!" The Queen waved excitedly. Asa laughed softly, finding it funny how carefree the Queen could be.

"Hello, Your Majesty! I miss home already," Asa pouted.

"You know you don't have to be formal when you're not uniformed, Asa!" The Queen playfully scolded.

"Right, I forgot!" Asa giggled, "I miss you, mother." She sighed softly, her shoulders sagging.

"Take a nap, my love. You should be landing soon. We'll talk again in a few days." Queen Yeba shooed Asa, making her laugh.

"Okay, okay!" Asa waved. "I'll see you soon!" They bid their goodbyes and ended the call.

Asa put her things away and settled into her seat. The plane would be landing in about six hours. After that, she was going to be on Japanese soil. Many things crossed her mind as she prepared to sleep. But one particular thought made her smirk almost evilly: Maybe she'd reencounter a certain hot-headed and arrogant hero. And this time, she wouldn't play nice.

Chapter 4

#bnha #mha #hawks x oc #keigo takami x oc #hawks #keigo takami #bnha au #bnha oc #hawks fanfic #bnha fanfic #boku no hero academia #my hero academia

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sherlockfanficwriting · 4 years

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Mycroft “Kidnapped”

Summary - You get kidnapped by a secret group of people. Mycroft is absolutely ballistic in finding you, but will he? The longer he takes the more damage done to you. How fast will he act, and when he does will you be alive?

Warnings - violence

You walked with Mycroft on a quiet rainy London street, his arm wrapped around your waist and holding an umbrella that shielded the rain from the two of you. He made sure to focus it more on you. For the whole time he has met you, you were his priority over everything and anything.

“We should take a vacation,” you casually told him.

“If I didn’t have work so much, I would go anywhere you wanted,” he said, sighing.

“Oh, please can we go somewhere in the summer!” You exclaimed.

Mycroft laughed, he loved seeing your face when you got happy. “I can make some arrangements, but today is a long day for the both of us.”

“I know, I don’t know what I’m going to do all day except for helping you around the office.” You were a smart person, Mycroft obviously picked that out from you the day you met, but you had no use at his office. You enjoyed each other’s presence, even if that meant you helping doing stupid paperwork, you loved it.

You walked to the building and greeted the workers there that you saw. They enjoyed you as much as Mycroft. You were a package of sunshine that was wrapped in endless layers of intelligence and love. You walked to his office, took your coat off and sat on his seat.

“I love it when you sit in my seat,” Mycroft said as he walked in.

“You live off sarcasm, don’t you?” You told him as he innocently rolled his eyes.

“Yes, get off before I crush you,” he told you.

You knew one thing you never wanted in the world. To be crushed, especially by a human being. You squirmed just thinking about it and flew out of his chair causing him to throw you a confused look and release a chuckle.

“Here are some papers you might find intriguing. I’ll get to work with a few phone calls,” he said, handing you a small stack of papers.

You pursed your lips. You couldn’t decide anymore if you liked this. Suddenly you remembered something important. You promised Mycroft a few days ago you would bring him a surprise lunch of some food he really liked. It was nearly ten and if you were to get it now you would avoid the rush. He’s been working so hard lately, and you wanted to do something nice for him.

“Mycroft, I have to run downtown for something,” you said. His eyes immediately darted up to you.

“Downtown? Now? Alone?” His voice was full of concern. He rarely let you out alone and you knew he wouldn’t unless you had someone else with you...someone close.

“Uh- yes, I forgot something at my friend’s place. They just texted me where to meet. It’s rather important,” you said. You knew Mycroft had been way to busy to remember you hadn’t been to a friend’s house in a few months, you spent all your time with him.

“I suppose you can. Just keep in contact with me if you need anything.”

You smiled and began to head out the door.

“Be careful!” He called out.

You flew down the steps, exiting the building with ease. You had worn a pair of black high waisted palazzo pants, a tucked-in white blouse, and a small black blazer, but what made your outfit special where your black flats. You could finally be able to run comfortably across London without heels.

You called for a taxi as you reached the curb and one pulled over in a few seconds.

“Can you take me to 54th street?”

The driver nodded, zooming away. You couldn’t contain your element of surprise. Thinking what Mycroft wanted? You knew what he wanted, but you could never get him just that. He loved sweets, smoothies, coffee, cigarettes, sandwiches. What didn’t he like?

The taxi slowed down to a halt. You paid up and stepped outside. In front of you was a new cafe that specialized in gourmet “healthy” foods. You pulled the door open and were greeted by a whole variety of pastries covered by glass. To your right was a display of sandwiches and salads. You read the chalkboard on the wall above. It had smoothies and coffees and all sorts of drinks. You ended up deciding on a Cuban sandwich, a cobb salad, a mango smoothie, and a blueberry scone for Mycroft. You were delighted as you walked out of the store. It was drizzling rain and you could tell it was going to start pouring soon. You were about to call for a taxi, but you checked your wallet from instinct.

“Oh no,” you said to yourself. You only had four dollars. You couldn’t get a taxi anywhere. Mycroft always offered you plenty of money in situations like this, but you forgot all the time to put it in your purse.

You walked down the street and noticed an alley leading to a sight of the River Thames. You didn’t have a good sense of where you were in London so for all you knew you were lost. You walked down the alley and reached the sight of the river. You knew that Mycroft’s building wasn’t near the river. Or was it? His building was near the west of town. No, the east?

You put your food bags down and tried to concentrate. You felt helpless because you had no idea where you were or his office. You didn’t want to call him because he would scold you for forgetting money and not even knowing and you wanted to surprise him with lunch.

“Lost?” Someone called. You whipped your head around. A tall man with a seemingly expensive suit and an umbrella stood there with a concerned look on his face.

“I-I, yeah, I’m lost.”

“You know I just moved here to London for a job and I still can’t find my way around. Lucky I have a driver though.”

A driver? If only you did. Now that you think of it, you really should have one.

“That must come in handy,” you told him politely.

“Do you need to get somewhere? Someone like you shouldn’t be alone here and in the rain,” he said smiling. You were charmed. He seemed nice enough to be a genuine and truthful person.

“I do, actually Parliament.”

“I’ll have my driver take you.” He motioned you to come. You did and walked next to him. You noticed a long black car on the curb. It looked like a limo, but not quite the size. The man opened the door for you and you stepped in. Inside the car were three other men, who were also dressed very well. You felt uneasy but shook it off. The man hopped into the car, closing the door.

The car drove off, and you didn’t even tell them where to go.

“So, to Parliament, right?” You said. The man who coaxed you inside was silent but then started laughing as did the other men.

Your heart dropped. You suddenly knew what was going on. You tried to open your purse to get your cellphone, but the man whipped your body around, facing him.

“You either comply, or we’ll make you.” Your breathing increased as did your heart rate. You didn’t listen to the man and continued rummaging through your purse, but stopped when the man slapped your face, hard. You winced in pain, you had never been slapped before. You started panicking.

“Where are you taking me?” You cried out.

“To your death place,” the man said.

When you heard this, you started screaming like a lunatic. You tried to get to the door, but you were too weak and outnumbered. You fought back relentlessly, but a hard blow to your face took you out.

Mycroft’s office

“What is taking her so long?” Mycroft said to himself. It was already two hours past ten when you left. He was worried sick about you and couldn’t concentrate on his work.

He picked up his phone and dialed your number. It rang, but no pickup.

“I’m worried about you. It’s been two hours, a little more, and you’re not back. Call me,” he said to the voicemail.

Mycroft put the phone down and rested his head in his hands. A little more time and he would then find out where you were.

-----------------

You blinked your eyes open slowly. You were on the ground against a pole. Your legs were tied together with rope and your arms and hands were too. It was tight and hurt. You felt your cheek throb in pain and suddenly you remembered being punched hard across the face with some type of ring. You managed to lean yourself straight against the pole and looked around the room. No windows, just a door. Bright lights. Relatively clean. Empty except you. You shivered in fear.

“Hello?” You cried out.

The door suddenly opened and there stood the man who killed you. There was something jammed in his pocket. A gun.

“What do you want from me? I don’t even know you!” You cried to him.

He smiled and shook his head. “But you do know Mycroft Holmes, in fact you are very close to him.”

Your heart dropped. “Why does that matter?”

“Because he is our enemy. He caught us back years ago and we served our years, but that was wrong with him. He got in our business. He shouldn’t have. We want revenge for all those years....that money.....lost.”

“I don’t know anything about that, I swear! Just please let me go,” you begged.

The man walked closer and said to you, “Oh, we’ll get him here, but you’re the closest thing to him. You’re going to be part of our revenge.”

You whimpered silently. It was hopeless.

“Damien, bring her phone,” the man called. A muscular man walked in carrying your phone. He handed it to the man and stepped away, arms folded behind him.

“I imagine you have his contact,” he said while scrolling through the phone, “oh, here we go.” His sadistic smile made you cringe.

“What a cute couple. He looks like he really loves you,” he said while looking through a photograph. He stood up and snapped a picture of you. You didn’t even bother to look at the camera.

“Sent,” he said.

You had no emotion in you but pure fear and sadness. You tried not to cry just thinking about your death and Mycroft. The man walked up to you and pulled your chin up.

“Not sad enough for me,” he said, pulling out a knife.

“Please. No,” you managed to say.

The man held the knife at your forearm, pressing it into your skin. You winced. Suddenly he slid the cold metal slowly across your skin. You felt a warm liquid pour out. It hurt.

“That was a warmup, get ready for more,” he said, standing up and walking out of the door.

Mycroft’s office

Mycroft’s phone made a noise. He stopped pacing around the room and looked at it. It was a message from you. He unlocked his phone and had to steady himself from passing out when he saw the picture of you. He placed his hand over his mouth and his stomach twisted and turned. His love, everything he loved was taken by someone and being hurt. A handful of tears escaped from his eyes, but the most powerful emotion of a man washed over his own body.

Anger.

He stormed out, calling his brother and explaining everything to him. He contacted the elite police, detectives, people working for him, everybody. In less than a minute, the whole London government’s priority was you. Mycroft ran and swung his coat on, storming outside.

--------------

You tried to make the time pass by thinking about Mycroft and your good memories with him. He was the only thing you really loved. Every single moment of the day you were with him in some way. Every intimate moment, you cherished. You wondered if he was looking for you yet. What would you do without him?

The door opened again and you looked up to see the man again. He looked angrier and clenched his knife hard.

“He’s looking for you, but he’ll never find you or you’ll be dead by then.”

The man bent down to your level and threw a hard punch at your face. His cold ring piercing through your skin, bruising your cheekbone.

“What’d you say? You want more?” He asked and punched even harder in your stomach. You exhaled hard in pain.

“Please, stop.”

He punched you again in the stomach, causing you to bend over in extreme pain.

“Imagine if you died how sad he would be? Boy, I can’t wait.” He backed away to the door. “Damien, get in here and do the messy work, I can’t get my hands red.”

You felt your heart pounding through your body, louder than ever. He walked in carrying a knife with no mercy. You shivered and leaned your body against the pole.

“You’re gonna be so sorry,” he said. He picked the knife above his head and drove it down hard into your upper stomach. You screamed in agony. It was the worst pain you have ever felt before. Blood spilled out of the wound and onto the ground. You were now certain of death and hopeless of anything. Your body collapsed to the ground as your eyes shut semi-unconsciously.

Mycroft’s office

“Where did you track her phone?” Mycroft demanded at his best tech worker. Sherlock was peering right behind him.

“This, here, this address,” he pointed at the screen.

“I’m going. I need maximum backup and weapons. We make sure she is safe.

Mycroft and his brother ran out of the room and into his car.

------------------

You remained laying on the cold floor, feeling the blood continuing to pour out of you. You had cried as you were in this position. You didn’t want it to end this way. This wasn’t how you imagined it.

Your body felt weak, you couldn’t prop yourself against the pole. Your heartbeat was slowing as was your breathing. You kept your eyes closed, as you were in between blacking out completely. You hoped at least to live a minute longer, a second longer.

A few ordinary minutes passed as soon as you heard a door bolted down and people screaming. Police? You heard gunshots being fired and bodies dropping. You were so out of it, you thought you might be dreaming. The door to your room swung open and there stood Mycroft. He called your name and rushed over to you, pressing on your wound as Sherlock cut your ropes. You heard him, but were too weak to open your eyes or respond.

“My,” you managed to say with all your energy.

“i’m right here. I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry. I love you.”

Mycroft felt your pulse and started to cry. It was barely there.

“Mycroft, hospital. Now.” Sherlock said. Mycroft wrapped his arms around you and picked you up, running to the ambulance. There he watched in tears, anger, and sadness as blood covered your stomach and poured out. He could only feel complete agony. The doctors treated you as soon as you got in the hospital. Mycroft threw a fit and began raging about not seeing you and the men who did this to you. Lucky for him, they were dead. He spent hours sitting in the waiting room, relentless. When the door opened, he turned his head eager that someone knew something about you.

-------------------

Beep

You heard these strange noises and suddenly knew you were in a hospital. Someone was holding your hand. You smelled the room. Old cologne. It was Mycroft. His hand assured it. You opened your eyes. He was sleeping, his head on your bed, one hand resting on your legs and the other holding your hand. You squeezed his hand. Immediately he woke up.

“You’re awake! Are you in pain?”

You shook your head. “I’m fine. Thanks for saving me.”

Mycroft put his head down. “I’m so sorry. You don’t deserve that. Never in a million years. I would have taken that any day instead of you. You are my life.”

You smiled. “Mycroft, I love you. You’re mine too.”

He smiled and kissed your cheek. “Rest now, dear,” he said as he stroked your hair. You closed your eyes, now engulfed by sleep, but now hope overcame you.

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ugly-crying-over-bucky-barnes · 4 years

Note

Would you mind if I requested another Alfie I love the way you write. A bit of an angsty one were Alfie is mean to her at the start she could own a little shop and he comes in saying she owes him money for protection if she wants to set up shop on his turf. She is afraid of him and is always in a panick to pay. Then he starts to soften to her and a relationship begins. I'd like some sexy time if you can can add it in. But if it doesn't work for you that's ok.☺️

//I love soft Alfie, but we can never forget his gangster roots. Because DAMN does he look hot doing that crime thing.

Independence was always a scary thought for Cora. But it was something she always desired. Her mother was certain she needed to be married before Cora left the house. But she didn’t see herself marrying any time soon. She wanted to make it out in the world on her own.

So, she saved and bought a storefront in Camden Town. She began to put together a boutique. But she had yet to open before someone came barging in as if they owned the place.

Cora poked her head out from the storage room. “Sorry, we’re not open…yet.” She felt her voice fade away when she saw the man entering.

“Cora Hyde, that right?”

She startled. “Uh…yes, I’m sorry, do I know you?”

“Nah, but you will. Heard from a little bird that there was a new shop opening up. And the owner ain’t come to me to pay protection money.”

“But I…” Cora shook her head. “Who are you?”

He just chuckled and continued into the half-empty store, his cane tapping against the floor. He looked up from beneath his wide-brimmed hat. “Where are me manners? Alfie Solomons.” He introduced.

“Cora…well you already know my name.” The young woman felt like backing away from him as he moved closer but she found she couldn’t move a muscle under his stare.

“Yeah, m’surprised the person who sold you the shop didn’t give you the lay of the land, love. Surprised he didn’t mention where you’re setting up shop.” He looked around, even though there wasn’t much to look at as Cora was still getting things in place.

“I uh…” She swallowed, still completely perplexed by the man.

“See, you’re in my territory.” He placed a hand to his chest, showing the multiple rings he had on his fingers. “And shops in this area, pay me a bit of money so they’re under my protection.”

So, this was what independence was like. Cora shook her head. “I’m sorry, Mr. Solomons but I think you have me mistaken. I don’t need protection…I’m not even sure what I would need protection from.”

“Oh, anything, anything. Fires, big scary men, yeah, robbers. I’ll take care of everything. But I don’t work for free, right, I mean you don’t work for free and neither do I. Simple business, innit?” He finally stepped right in front of the counter. “S’business. You pay me for protection.”

“But I…”

“You’re new to the area so let’s call it…eight pounds a month.”

Cora’s jaw nearly hit the floor. “Eight? Are you mad, you have no right storming in here demanding money like you own the place. I bought this store…”

“Yeah, the last shopkeeper was a pain in me arse. Now that you mention it. He refused to pay too. Said something similar, I had no right to ask for money, right. Want to know where he is now?” A dark look passed over his face. “He’s in the river, love. All he had to do was pay for protection and he’d still be alive.”

Cora was almost trembling with fear. She had no way of knowing if this man was just blowing smoke. But the look in his eyes told her he wasn’t joking around.

“You seem like a nice girl, not looking for trouble, aye? Cut ya a deal, seven-pound a month. First of every month.”

Seven pounds. How would Cora be able to get seven pounds every month? She hadn’t even made a single cent from the store yet and was already strapped for money. But what else was she to do? “I don’t know if I’ll have the money in time. I don’t have much…”

“First of the month.” Alfie echoed before striding out of the store, leaving no room for debate.

Cora ran a hand through her hair in a harried state. “What am I going to do?” She whispered.

~~~~~

The first of the next month came much faster than expected. Cora had tried, she really had. But between paying rent and trying to afford the bare minimums to survive, she came up very short of the seven pounds Alfie had insisted upon.

She cringed when she saw his dark, broad figure coming into the store. “Mr. Solomons…”

“First of the month.” He announced as if she wasn’t fully aware. “Seven pounds is what I said, innit?”

“Y-yes and I tried but I-I haven’t any money an-and I can’t afford to pay you or-or for anything.” Oh God, she couldn’t hold herself together. It was so scary being out in the world on her own. What the hell was she thinking trying to be so headstrong and independent? She began to weep, too broken to hold the tears back.

Alfie stared at her for a moment. Very rarely did people cry in front of him, unless of course, they were begging for their lives at the end of a gun. But to see the young woman break down in front of him was unnerving, to say the least. “Alright, alright. Don’t hafta fucking cry.” He mumbled and reached into his coat for a handkerchief.

“Please, I don’t want any tr-trouble.” Cora looked up to see the small piece of cloth offered to her.

Alfie looked disgruntled but perhaps it was to show the guilt he felt for being so intimidating to a young shopkeeper. “I don’t need seven pounds, right, I’ve got considerable means. Your seven pounds ain’t nothing to me.” He established so she didn’t consider him weak. It would do him no good if word got around that he was getting soft.

She hesitantly took the handkerchief to wipe her eyes. “I don’t understand.” She hiccuped. “You said-”

“Yeah, well fuck what I said, okay? Can change me own mind whenever I fucking want to and I just did.” He grumbled.

She looked puzzled. He was a very confusing man, to say the least. His face had become less intimidating and she found him to be a bit more endearing. Crass and cranky, but less of a threat than he was before. “I don’t know if I should thank you or not.”

“Don’t need thanks.” He saw her eyes were still welling up with tears. “Just stop crying.” Maybe he was softer on women. That much might’ve been true. But he couldn’t stand being the reason for her crying. Perhaps it had to do with comforting his sister when they were younger. Comforting her in their family’s darkest moments.

Cora dabbed at her eyes again before going to give him back the handkerchief.

“Keep it, s’alright.” He said. “I’ll be checking in from time to time. Just making sure no one else is giving you trouble.” The words came out before Alfie could really realize what he was saying and why. With no required payments on the table, realistically, the two would never have to cross paths again. But, there was a softness to her that was so rare in his life. So rare in Camden. A deep part of him wanted to cling to that softness, to have some sort of humanity in his life. Something nice amongst the blood and rum. Something nice.

~~~~

True to his word, Alfie checked in on Cora’s shop with increasing frequency. It started out with Alfie asking if anyone had given her a hard time around Camden Town. And if so, he’d like the name of said people. He wanted to make sure her landlord was being fair. Wanted to make sure she was getting enough business.

Initially, Cora found it very strange that the man who had come barging in asking for eight pounds a month, suddenly had a vested interest in her business. It would’ve made her suspicious if it hadn’t been for his gentler side.

Of course, this side only came out after a couple of months of knowing one another. Alfie brought his dog, Cyril, along one day, much to Cora’s delight.

“Oh, Alfie, he’s gorgeous,” Cora remarked as she stroked Cyril’s smooth coat.

“Gorgeous.” Alfie scoffed. “Yeah, he’s fucking gorgeous when he’s taking up half the bed and wakes me up at the crack of dawn.”

She laughed softly. It was something new that she realized about him. Cyril wasn’t some guard dog or a prop to look more intimidating, he was a companion. Someone that Alfie was fond of. So, he wasn’t heartless.

~~~~~~

It came to be that nearly a year after she set up shop, she found herself waiting for Alfie to drop by. Days seemed more mundane when he didn’t pop in for a quick chat. But it seemed he was firmly standing behind a line. Even if Cora dropped hints that she perhaps was interested in getting to know him better, he didn’t respond. She was starting to think he really was just being friendly. Strange behavior for a gangster, but she wasn’t going to assume things.

To get some closure, Cora steeled herself and asked.

“Would you ever want to see me outside of here?” She asked him after their conversation about dog breeds ran dry.

“I see you outside.” His brow furrowed.

It was true, sometimes they ran into each other on the street. “I mean, like out. At a pub or something.” She clarified shyly.

Alfie swallowed. He knew he was treading dangerous waters. Damned as he was, he was looking for the outcome. But had always tried to hold himself back. A girl like Cora could do so much better than him. It was wishful thinking to believe it would ever work out. But he was a sinful creature and couldn’t stay away. “We could. Didn’t think you’d want to be seen with me out in public.”

Cora looked appalled. “What gave you that idea?”

“Well, love, you know my reputation.”

“Your first impression with me wasn’t stellar but you’ve only ever treated me nicely ever since.” She reminded him.

“You’re braver than I thought.” He mused. “Much braver. Here I was thinking you were a little mouse, ‘fraid of everything.”

She shrugged. “I don’t think I have reason to be afraid of you.”

That’s when Alfie knew she had his number. There was no pulling the wool over her eyes. “Alright, I’ll take you out then.”

“Pick me up tonight?”

“Eight o’clock.”

~~~~~

Cora got some jitters when she started seeing Alfie. She was worried he might change for the worse and she would be in a tough situation. But he never did. If anything, he only got kinder and opened up more to her.

But then she realized people stared at her when she walked down the streets of Camden Town. No one would talk when she was nearby, lest Alfie Solomons rain down hell upon them. But they did talk when she was out of earshot.

The woman who had tamed Alfie Solomons. What a mystery. What a scandal.

But the hype faded after a couple of years. Meanwhile, Alfie and Cora only fell deeper in love. It was a far cry from their first interaction, which Cora sometimes teased him about.

One morning, Alfie came into the store and began locking the door and pulling down the shutters.

Cora, who was hanging up some clothes looked alarmed. “Alfie, what on Earth are you doing?”

“You, miss,” He began striding toward her once the shop was all secured and the outside world was locked away. “Left me bed this morning before I even woke. Leaving me without a proper goodbye.” He scolded.

“I left you a note.” She said, at least relieved there was nothing serious going on and he was just being dramatic.

“A fucking note.” He humphed. “A proper goodbye, not a note.”

Cora rolled her eyes, amused at how bratty he was sometimes. “So, you’re driving business away from my shop because I left without a good morning kiss?” She rounded the counter with her arms crossed.

“Cheeky, as always.” He picked her up without warning and sat her on the counter.

“Alfie!” She giggled, a bit taken aback by his sudden movement.

“You want a little taste of what I were gonna give you this morning?” He asked. His hands traveled down her back, starting to undo the buttons of her dress.

“Well, if I had known you had something planned, I might’ve stayed…” She leaned forward to kiss him.

“Well, plans can be changed a bit.” He murmured between kisses. “Always dreamt ‘bout fucking you in me office but here’ll do just fine.”

“Here?” Cora asked, her eyes widening. But she couldn’t deny that the thrill made her stomach knot up.

He studied her face. “That’s a no then?” He assumed, ready to back off.

“You’ll need to be quick.” She tugged his shirt so he would get closer. “I need to open back up to actually make some money.”

Back in the mood, he gave her a smug smile. “I’ll take as long as I want with you, love. Ain’t rushing anything.”

“You think money grows on trees?” She retorted, smoothing her hands over his chest, and ghosting her lips over his neck.

“Ah, you know you’ll never go without. I wouldn’t let you.” He finished unbuttoning her dress. “Anything you want, I’ll get ya. Gonna bathe you in diamonds and sapphires.”

His seductive tone was making Cora lose her mind. “Alright. Fuck reopening the store.” Alfie’s eyes lit up and he moved in to kiss her. But she stopped him with a finger to his lips. “But it’ll cost you eight pounds.” She teased.

“Oh, you little minx.” He groaned. “I fucking love you.”

She giggled and pulled him in for a kiss.

#ugly crying asks

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