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iggy-of-fans · 4 years

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Of Being a Ladybug 7

First Master List Previous

The Cons of being Proactive

Marinette walked into the fourth café for the day. This one was attached to the Wayne Enterprise building and had an exit into the building proper for employees. She saw many other teenagers within, paper coffee cups clutched for dear life with tablets and laptops out in front of them. She walked to the counter, “Good Morning. Is there a chance I could speak to the manager, please? I saw a help wanted sign on the front window and would like to leave my resume with him.”

“Oh, you seem familiar, have we met?” the barista asked kindly as she waved to a lady in her early 30’s.

“I’m afraid I just moved here from London.”

“Ah, allow me to handle this, Krista. I would be overlooking her resume before hiring her anyway” a gentleman behind her said. He was a handsome chocolate skinned man, with kind brown eyes and was dressed in an expensive looking suit. He smiled with his whole face, his eyes twinkling as though he was part of some inside joke. “Follow me, Miss….”

“Maria, sir. Maria Fu” Marinette held out her hand. His smile softened even more and shook her hand. He gestured with his other hand and led her to an unused table. Once seated, she offered her resume, only her schooling and “family bakery experience” able to be used, as she couldn’t offer up her past volunteer experience, nor could she offer references.

“Hm. Normally I would not allow you to work here without proper references, even from your teachers. However, I also happen to be close to the owner of the company, and know that he just yesterday took in a new ward…” he trailed off, looking at her over the top of the paper. Marinette smoothed her face.

“Why, may I ask, is the newest ward of a multi-billionaire trying to find work? Especially with the…special circumstances of night shifts” the man asked.

“I will be aging out of the system sooner or later. I want to make sure I am capable of at least making it through life on my own, before the inevitable happens” Marinette stated, though she was looking at her battle hardened and sewing scarred hands.

“Very well, you start this afternoon, at 3pm. I assume you will be done with school by then?”

“As far as I am aware, I will remain homeschooled. I am close to finishing my High School diploma either way, and there is no need for me to be placed into a classroom setting at this point. Thank you for your faith in me, Mr…”

“Fox. Lucius Fox. Krista will expect you at 3 PM for your orientation” he stood and held out his hand. She shook his hand, smiled and left. Step one of her plan, complete.

She walked a few blocks to the Gotham Library before taking out her Wayne phone and calling Alfred with another 15 minutes to spare. He arrived and they drove quietly back to the manor. Once there she changed into her training outfit before following Alfred to the cave entrance.

< ( >< ) >

Alfred’s POV

After Marinette left to catch a cab to town, siting going to the library, Alfred went to the cave to track her. Sipping his tea, he sat at the computer and frowned when Marinette actually did get off at the library. Hm. He became more suspicious though when after 3 hours of no movement, she called to pick her up. He frowned. He left to pick her up and frowned more when her tracker finally moved again. Where had she gone? What was she doing? Perhaps tracking the traffic cams? He was pulling into the city proper when a call from Lucius Fox came through.

“Mr. Fox. What can I do for you today?” Alfred asked, pulling over to the side, a block away from the library.

“Would you care to explain to me why the newest Wayne ward was just here, applying for a job as a barista?” Lucius asked, voice soft.

“Is that where she went? Hm. I told Master Bruce she was not like his other children. Thank you for letting me know, I will do my best to have her settle in better.”

“My only tip is to not have her attend school formally. She seems extremely tense about it” Lucius suggested, before hanging up. Hm.

< ( ^ ^ ) >

Bruce POV

Bruce awoke at 9 AM to a tray of breakfast and coffee at his side table. He ate light before heading to the cave to await his newest ward. He saw a tracker open on the screen and Alfred’s discarded tea cup. Seems like his new daughter went out for a while. Figuring he’d talk to Alfred after training, he turned off the screen and started stretching. Diana had filled him in that, while Maria was naturally flexible, she would need help to become more comfortable in the daily movements that may be required of her. He considered ballet. Mari---a, also took to martial arts in a defensive only way. Not good. He needed someone not scared to throw a punch so as to get himself out of the range of fire. Her weapons aim was impeccable though. She could shoot an arrow, a gun, wield a sword and a bo-staff. He nodded. Time to teach her aggression. When Alfred and Maria arrived, he stood and looked her over. Short cut black hair, simple black training leotard, wary blue eyes. She kept herself in a small pose, one arm held over the other, hanging loosely by her side, head slightly bowed to seem non-threatening. Not ideal for a Robin.

“Welcome to Gotham, and to my home, Maria. I hope that you had a restful first night?” he asked, turning away to gather some materials.

“Thank you.”

Not a talker. Quiet, shy. Diana mentioned she suffered inadequacy issues. What to do, what to do. Best to go for the kill, and then back track once he had a better sense of her personality.

“Diana mentioned that your training was progressing well, but that you had some issues with aggression and flexibility. The latter is something that can only be fixed in the long term, but the first… well, for someone who’s had so much fighting experience, I had hoped you wouldn’t be scared to throw a punch” Bruce said, handing her a fresh set of hand wraps for grappling.

Marinette said nothing, head down as she expertly wrapped her hands. He sighed.

“We’re going to work on your offensive fighting for the next few days. I can’t have a Robin that’s too scared to attack” Bruce tried again. ‘Come on… get riled up. Get angry.’

Her head snapped up. ‘Yes!’

“Is the current Robin renaming himself?” ‘She speaks!’

“No. He is relocating and leading the Teen Titans for the time being. A Miraculous has taken up residence with Death Stroke in Jump City. He will be there indefinitely” Bruce said simply.

“So would it not be confusing and also demystifying if you have two Robins? Besides, I doubt he would be happy to share the moniker with me” ‘Is she worried to offend…?

“Demystifying?” he asked instead. This is good. Progress!

“That Batman and Robin are eternal and immortal and do not age or change…?”

He snorted. Really? Well… he did want to be a symbol…

“And what do you suggest instead?”

She hesitated again. Damn. He was about to open his mouth and suggest they wait until after the training session, but she looked up, “Knave.”

Knave… because he was the Dark Knight? He smirked.

“Very well. We will need measurements and a colour scheme. It will need to be eye catching” that might be harder than anticipated. Red was heavily over done, and Green wasn’t flashy enough… purple was taken…

“Pink” she was looking at the display cases, “I like pink.”

Pink… well, he could safely say they’d never used pink before. He nodded, making a gesture to Alfred to make it happen.

“Well, let’s begin. Today you learn to punch.”

<(**)>

Marinette’s POV

Four hours of training later, an exhausted, sweaty and starving Marinette dragged her sore and bruised body back to her room for a bath. What kind of torture was this? Groaning, she dropped onto her bed post bath and glared at the ceiling. She had to get to her orientation. Dammit. She peeled herself off the bed and got dressed in a pair of jeans and a white blouse. She’d grab a pastry at the café.

---- 8 hours later ---

Nope. Nope, today did not happen, she decided. She stood by Krista’s side as she locked up the front door.

“Do you have a ride coming to get you?” Krista asked. Gotham was far from safe at night.

“Uhm…” Marinette didn’t really think about it. Her orientation was only supposed to last an hour and a half, but two of the evening staff had called in sick, and Marinette had been baptized by fire when she had been forced to the till. She hadn’t had time to call Alfred or Bruce, and had no idea if they would even be available right now, considering the time. Crap.

“I was going to cab…” she finally settle on.

“No need for that. I will take her” Bruce friggen Wayne said from behind them, standing next to an expensive looking car.

“Oh, Mr. Wayne. No need for that, I don’t mind sharing a cab with her!” Krista smiled.

A small frown formed. He sighed and smiled, hailing a cab. He leaned down to speak to the cab driver quickly before walking around and opening the door for them.

“A safe trip home, both of you” Bruce said, raising an eyebrow at Marinette and giving her a ‘look’. Crap.

The cab dropped Krista off, refusing payment as Bruce had payed already, before driving to the Manor. A car that followed far too closely came to a stop beside the cab. Bruce stepped out and grabbed the door handle for Marinette. Crap.

He nodded to the cabby before placing a hand on Marinette’s shoulder and marching her into the manor.

“That was an immensely stupid thing for you to do, Maria.”

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#maribat #maridami #Marinette deserves better #batman #bruce wayne #alfred pennyworth #Wonder Woman

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justjessame · 4 years

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Put Me In Coach 2

“He’s watching you,” Mary whispered, as I looked at her in confusion. “Coach Negan has been eye fucking you ever since he walked into the cafeteria.”

I rolled my eyes. “You’re fucking insane.” I let my eyes fall back to the book in my hand. “He’s not looking at me, and if he is, then it’s probably because the random thought of ‘oh shit, have I done inventory lately’ popped into his head.” Eric snickered from beside me. I took a drink from my bottle of water and pretended I was reading. He was staring at me. I could feel it across the crowded room. I just couldn’t acknowledge it. Even though I’m eighteen and technically an adult, he’s still a fucking teacher. And married. A flash of guilt gnawed in my stomach. I couldn’t think of her, his wife.

“If this is insanity, than fuck if I don’t want a dose of what you’re having.” Eric muttered, and then I felt him. Behind me, the musky scent of him, his heat. Fuck.

“Miss Kendall.” That fucking voice of his. It didn’t help that I knew exactly how deep it could get, and just how hot he could sound moaning my name. I licked my lips and felt his hand touch my shoulder.

“Yeah, Coach.” I was happy to hear my voice both steady and not breathless. I looked up at him over my shoulder and smiled. “Is there a problem?”

His eyes were dark. A darkness I was learning very well. “Not a problem, Miss Kendall, a reminder.” I swallowed as he pulled his hand back. “You promised to give me a hand,” I heard Eric snicker again and closed my eyes. “With grading.” I nodded and bit my lip.

“Of course,” I took a deep breath. “I have a free period after lunch.” It was the second semester and I didn’t have his class anymore. The free period was actually an independent study that I was doing, but what’s the point of it if I couldn’t be independent?

Negan smiled down at me. “See you then.” He nodded a parting to my now silent best friends and walked away. I turned back to my book.

“Tell me he’s bent you over his desk and spanked you until you couldn’t sit down comfortably.” Eric practically moaned. “Please throw me that one fucking bone, bitch.”

I shook my head and ignored him. “Come on, Eric,” Mary said, her eye roll evident in her tone. “We’re talking about PERFECT Amara Kendall here. What would Coach Negan have to spank her over?”

“Mary, Mary, Mary,” Eric sounded completely bored with that line. “Remember that Amara fucking Kendall had to retake PE because of her fucking mouth. Wait, has he fucked your mouth?” Damn it. The insatiable curiosity of these two assholes would kill me.

I shook my head and continued to ignore them. “She’s not talking, Eric. Quiet as a fucking tomb.” Mary sounded so put out that I nearly giggled. Nearly. “Unlike us, her BEST FRIENDS, she doesn’t share. Shouldn’t surprise us, I guess, she never shared in kindergarten either.”

That did it. I laughed. “You are such thirsty fucking whores.” I shook my head and sat down my book. “Kindergarten? Really?” I rolled my eyes. “You’re never gonna forgive me for that fucking Barbie doll are you?”

“It was Ken, bitch, and you wouldn’t share him so I could reenact all my debased ideas.” She was glaring at me and Eric as we laughed. “I had such creativity and it was STARVED because you wouldn’t share.”

“I saved you from being forced into therapy, you twisted asshole.” I was shaking with laughter. “Seriously, what five year old acts out that kind of shit in kindergarten?”

“A creative one,” Eric snickered. “Creative and had too much access to Skinamax.”

We were all laughing now. Fuck, I loved the two idiots. But I couldn’t share what Negan and I were doing. They knew something happened, but he was STILL a fucking teacher. And I wasn’t going to lose him his job. “You know I want to share, but-” I sighed. “The less you know, the less you could be asked.”

“Do you honestly think that anyone would question us?” Eric scoffed. “You’re an adult, Amara. No one cares.”

“Well, the board might,” Mary shrugged. “What?” Eric had shot her a look. “It’s true. She has a point. He’s a teacher, not HER teacher, but he’s still a teacher.” She took my hand. “Sorry, we’ve been pushing for info, Amara. I think I get it now.” I squeezed her hand. “Doesn’t mean I’m gonna stop giving you shit, but I won’t ask for details.” I rolled my eyes.

“Fine, yeah, me too.” Eric begrudgingly agreed. “But the SECOND we get our fucking diplomas, I want GRAPHIC fucking details. Videos if you have them.”

I walked to the gym after lunch and grinned as I watched Negan bark out orders to the class. “I’m leaving you all to your own devices, but I swear to Christ if I hear a Lord of the Flies situation going down, I will shut that shit down immediately. Understood?” A round of agreement and he motioned for them to grab the equipment of their choosing.

“Miss Kendall.” He greeted me as I made my way through his students. “Let’s go into my office and we’ll get started with that stack of papers to grade.” The door had barely shut behind him when I turned and met his arms and mouth. Groaning into one another’s searching hands and ravenous mouths, I felt his hands sliding down my back to pull up my skirt over my hips. His fingers met lace and his teeth nipped at my lip. And then the panties met the same fate that each and every pair before them had, luckily I found a place to buy in bulk.

My hands were tugging down the elastic of his shorts, and then as though Eric had wished it, I was bent over the desk. But instead of a spanking, I was getting something better. He slid inside of me fully and then his hand was wrapped around my throat and pulling me back into his chest. Fuck. As we moved together, my head turning to search for his mouth and him anticipating my want and meeting me, I felt that build. The one that had become as natural as breathing to me. The climb toward an orgasm with Negan pounding into me with an expertise that only he had.

Roaring through both of us, I fell forward on the desk with a quiet chuckle as he followed me, his body over top of my own, always so hesitant to pull away. Pull out before he had to, he was completely against that. He wanted to feel me, for as long as we could stay joined, and I loved it. His weight against me, front or back, the feeling of him slowly leaving me. Hell even the mess that he left behind, until both of us could stand and our breaths weren’t pants any longer. Then he’d wipe me clean, kissing my knees or my thigh and smile up at me.

“I’m getting used to this, Amara.” He said, once I was clean and my skirt was down, panties replaced with a spare pair I kept in my bag. “You, this.” He had replaced his own clothes and was sitting in his desk chair. “Fuck if I’m not gonna miss you next year.”

I sighed, and sat on his lap. Letting my head find the crook of his shoulder, I played with the buttons on his polo shirt. “I’m not going far, Negan.” I offered, we’d been having this conversation a lot lately. “Besides,” I swallowed, not wanting to remind him or me of HER. “Maybe it’s for the best.” I offered instead. “I leave, your life gets back to normal.”

He chuckled into my hair. “Normal?” I felt him inhale deeply. “What the fuck is Normal, princess?” I didn’t actually think he was asking me, so I didn’t answer. “Still gonna fucking miss you.”

I smiled, and tilted my head up so I could look into his face. “I’ll miss you too, Coach.” I winked and he grinned. “Now, are there actual tests to grade, or was this an elaborate farce to get me alone and at your mercy?”

He laughed and opened a drawer filled with paper. “There’s always shit to grade, Amara, you know that.” And then he let me up, and left the office so I could grade his papers while he went back to teaching. I wondered, pulling a red pen out of his drawer, would he really miss me? Or was I just the latest in a long line of students that he’d done this with before?

“Amara!” I heard a loud male voice yell as I was leaving the school at the end of the day. Looking around I found the source. Joe Malberry. Captain of the wrestling team. I’d gone out on two dates with Joe, he’d asked me to Homecoming and I turned him down. I waited until he caught up with me, wondering what he could possibly want now.

“Hey, Joe.” I smiled up at him. He was broad. In his shoulders and everywhere else. Trust me, I knew. “What’s up?”

He was smiling down at me. His huge body blocked the sun effectively. ‘Hey, Amara, I was wondering, do you have a date yet for the Spring formal?” Ugh, this again. But I stopped myself from a fast no. Why shouldn’t I go to at least a few dances my final year?

“When is it again?” I hadn’t paid any attention to the notices.

“Two weeks from Friday.” He offered, his smile deepening at my interest.

“Sure.” I answered, nodding. “Why not?”

He hugged me and twirled me around making me laugh. “Fucking awesome.” He set me back on my feet and grinned. “Just tell me the color of your dress and I’ll pick out your corsage and make sure we don’t clash.” Shit, he was excited.

“Absolutely, Joe.” I smiled and walked away after promising him to give him details he needed and plans to call him to hash out the plans. I was almost in my car when I felt it. Someone’s eyes on me, and looking up I saw Negan staring a hole into me from outside the gym. Shit.

Maybe I wasn’t such an adult. If I was, then I probably would have gone over to Negan and discussed what he must have witnessed between Joe and me. I would have just admitted that going to the dance sounded mildly fun. That Joe was a good guy and maybe, if I was feeling particularly brave, I’d admit that Joe and I had, once upon a time, screwed like rabbits.

Or, I could drive the fuck home and pretend he hadn’t seen or had that look on his face. I could force down dinner. I could fake my way through homework. I could take a LONG hot bath and then open up my laptop to look at formal dresses to get an idea of what I wanted to wear. And hairstyles. And shoes. Anything other than looking at my cell phone that had been dinging text message alerts since I drove away.

I knew it was him. It had to be. We’d promised the cell phone was an emergency only thing, but how many times had we broken that rule? And to Negan, this might actually constitute an emergency. Maybe. But I wasn’t nearly ready to look and see what he might be saying or texting. Not yet. I was a coward.

I was printing off a few hairstyle ideas when my phone rang. OK that wasn’t him. He NEVER called. He couldn’t. Not from home. Not where she was.

I tapped the answer button without looking down. “Hello?” I was still clicking through websites and came up short when I heard his voice. Shit.

“Miss Kendall?” Fuck. “I think we’re gonna have to discuss your performance today, privately.”

Fuck, shit, fuck. “Coach, I can explain.” I tried, but he stopped me from continuing.

“Which may have worked if you came to me today, Miss Kendall.” And hadn’t ignored my texts, I heard the unspoken irritation. “I expect you in my office first thing in the morning. Be prepared for-” I waited, swallowing hard. “Just be prepared, Miss Kendall.”

Damn it. He hung up before I could say another word. Which forced me to look at his texts.

Amara, what the fuck?

Young lady, answer me.

Amara, you need to explain what I fucking witnessed earlier.

Damn it, answer me, Amara.

If I don’t get an answer in the next ten fucking minutes, you’re gonna wish you had.

That was the last one. Shit. I should have fucking answered. I should have BRBd him or TTYLd. Something, anything, cause I had a fucking feeling that Eric would be getting a very clear graphic of his fantasy when I couldn’t sit down all day tomorrow.

I had trouble sleeping. I had trouble waking up. I had a shit ton of trouble getting out of bed and facing the day ahead. I was screwed. And not in any of the most enjoyable ways. I bit my lip and considered how to divert him from the very clear aggravation that he was feeling. First, armor.

I got up, reluctantly, but determined. Pulling a pair of the tightest jeans I owned from a drawer, a pair of boy silky boy short panties, and a strappy sports bra, I had a flash of brilliance. Stepping out of my bedroom, I yelled down the hallway for my dad.

Mom’s head popped out of their bedroom, half her face made up the other still a work in progress. “He’s already left for the day, Mara.” She offered, taking in my unusual outfit. “What did you need?”

“A sports jersey.” I said, walking toward her. “It’s dress up day at school, you know senior shenanigans.” She was giving me a look of wonder. Shit, why didn’t I play nice at school more with the stupidity. “Doesn’t Dad have a few from when he goes out with the guys?” My dad liked to pretend now and then that he liked silly things like sports.

She nodded, still looking at me like I’d been a victim of a body snatching. “Yeah, come in and go to the far back of his closet.” She sat down at her vanity and glanced at me as I made my way to his closet. “Those jeans, honey, are they-”

“Decent?” I asked, with a snicker. “Sure. If you squint past the painted on fabric and strategic tears.” I was flicking through Dad’s clothes until I spotted it. Baseball jersey for the win. And since it buttoned, I could, once I left the house, unbutton it and show off the very nice and very fetching sports bra I was wearing. “Thanks, Mom.” I offered, dropping a quick kiss on her cheek as I bounced out of her room.

“Amara, do take a change of clothes, just in case.” I rolled my eyes. And my friends wondered why I was the way I was.

“Absolutely, Mom.” I agreed, and went back to my room to finish getting ready.

Hair up in a high ponytail. A pair of blinding white chucks on my feet. Baseball cap I found in the hall closet tucked in my bag. An extra outfit on a hanger, just so my mom wouldn’t lose her shit. And then I was out the door. Early, way earlier than anyone should ever willingly show up at their school, but I was there.

I parked my car and pulled my bag out. Pulling the cap on my head and pulling my ponytail through the hole, I took a deep breath to prepare myself. If nothing else, the fact that I was wearing jeans and a jersey should throw him off his game. And if Negan was off his game, then maybe I could explain myself before I had anything to really worry about. Right? Sure, I promised myself. Negan could be reasonable. He WAS reasonable.

I walked through the empty hallways, the quiet feeling far more surreal and foreboding than any other time before. The silence stretched out before me, my shoes’ soles too soft to even give me the comfort of my own footfalls. I reached the gym before I was ready. Truthfully would I ever be ready to reach him? Nope.

His office door was closed and I almost thought I beat him to the school, but I saw the sliver of light peeking out and nearly groaned. Fuck. I took a moment to give myself a pep talk. Negan was an adult. He just didn’t know how to categorize what he’d seen between me and Joe. Once I explained, leaving out that we’d had sex, he’d be fine. He expected me to do normal senior things. Hadn’t he asked me about Homecoming and Prom? He understood that this was normal. He just didn’t like that I hadn’t told him about it. Calmer, I knocked and heard him tell me to come in.

“Miss Kendall.” He greeted me and my stomach did a flip. Shit he was really truly pissed. “Close the door.” Damn it.

I complied, and when I turned around I felt another flip in my stomach and thanked God I hadn’t had breakfast. Lying in the middle of his desk was the paddle that our principal always referred to as “Spanky” and lovingly reminded us of the day when it was used to hand out the real punishment. Fuck.

“Interesting outfit, Miss Kendall.” Good he’d noticed. “You don’t usually wear jeans. Especially jeans that look like they’ve been painted on.” Fuck. He didn’t sound diverted. He sounded irritated. Shit. “Gonna make the next few minutes take longer than they should, but trust me, they’re gonna happen.” Shit, fuck, shit.

“Negan.” His eyes flashed to mine. OK, nope. “Coach Negan.” I corrected and when he didn’t move I felt comfortable to go on. “Look, I know what you saw yesterday could be interpreted a few ways, but it’s not what you think.” I don’t think, anyway, I added in my head. “Joe was just asking-”

He stood up and I squeaked. Like a mouse. Shit. “What, Miss Kendall, did good ol Joe ask?” Fuck.

I swallowed down another squeak. “He asked me to the spring formal.” I rushed out, he was studying me. “I accepted.” That came out more or less as a breath.

“The spring formal?” Why did he sound so fucking dangerous repeating me? I nodded. “And you said yes?” Another nod. “But you couldn’t take five fucking seconds out of your day to pick up the fucking phone and tell me that?” Shit. Fuck. Shit.

“I just-” What? I tried to ask myself. What didn’t I just? “I didn’t want to-”

Negan had come closer as I was struggling to find words to explain something I didn’t quite understand myself. “You didn’t want to what, Amara?” He was so close I could feel his body heat. “Tell me you were ready to play high school senior? To tell me that you wanted to play in the kiddie pool after telling me that you didn’t want a ‘boy’?” All my words, all coming back to haunt me. Shit.

“It’s not like that, Negan.” I offered, looking up at him. “I just thought, maybe, one fucking dance-”

“You wanted to go to a dance?” He sounded like a broken record, spitting back my words with various levels of disbelief. “With the captain of the wrestling team?” Damn it, I knew he’d get to that part. “Didn’t you turn down good ol Joe at Homecoming?”

“Yes,” I answered, waiting for the next onslaught.

He nodded, and bit his lip. “Why would good ol Joe be willing to risk another possible rejection?” He was studying me again, and I know he saw the faint blush that hit me. “Ah, so good ol Joe was rejected for the dance, but NOT for the DANCE.”

I fought rolling my eyes. Wasn’t he supposed to be the fucking adult here? “Does that matter?”

“Yes, Miss Kendall, it fucking matters.” His eyes were blazing on mine. “It matters because you’re gonna go to a fucking dance with a guy who WILL expect a repeat of that early performance. It matters because NOW I’m gonna have to fucking go to a fucking high school dance and chaperone it. It matters because I’m gonna fucking brain his stupid ass if he fucking puts his hand lower than your upper back.”

“Negan,” I felt my eyes widening. “You can’t.” He was glaring down at me. “You can’t do any of that. You’ll lose your fucking job.”

“And whose fault is that, princess?” Shit, the heart of the matter. “Take off that ball cap.” I tugged it off and tossed it onto the chair. “Now, unbutton those ridiculous fucking jeans and bend over that desk.” Damn it, fucking Eric’s wet dream for the win. I unsnapped the button and unzipped the zipper.

“Should I-” I started but he shook his head. OK. I leaned over the desktop.

“Face down,” the coolness of the metal touched my cheek. I felt his hands on my waist, and then his fingers on the waistband of my jeans. He began tugging them down, muttering at how tight they were as he worked. “If you fucking thought wearing these fucking pants was going to somehow fucking deter your punishment, sweetheart, I think you’re gonna be fucking upset. Cause it’s increasing the fucking shit, right now.” Fuck. “What the fuck are these?” Oh, the boy shorts. “Princess, where the fuck did you get these fucking things?” His fingers snapped the elastic silk of the panties.

“I don’t know, some store.” I truly had no fucking clue. They were basically toss away period pants if I had to be honest.

“They’re ridiculous too.” He was irritated and only getting more so as he tugged and pulled the jeans down. “These fucking things should be in the goddamn trash. If I didn’t want to murder anyone who might see your naked ass, I’d rip the fuckers off and toss them myself.” Don’t tell him you have a spare set of clothes, don’t tell him, even if that sounded hot as fuck.

I bit my lip when his hands and my jeans and panties met my ankles. The light air against my naked bottom half felt weird, and weirder still when he tossed my dad’s jersey out of his way. “Where the fuck did you get this?” Shit, wasn’t he just fucking curious all over this morning.

“It’s my dad’s.” I answered, and he grunted. “Should I chuck it in the fire, too?”

“Sir.” He corrected. Shit. He was serious.

“Sir?” I asked, hoping that he wasn’t going to go full on Eric’s greatest wet dream ever on me.

“That’s right, Amara. Sir.” I nodded my understanding. “You understand that you asked for this, don’t you, princess?” I nodded again. “Words, Amara.”

“Yes, sir.” I answered, and felt myself get a bit damper. Shit. “I asked for this because I didn’t answer you yesterday, sir.” Fuck if this wasn’t the best fucking bad thing I’d ever done.

“Good girl.” Shit, my stomach clenched at the praise. “Now, since it’s your first infraction, I’m not gonna go too hard on you, but remember this, princess, so you don’t have to experience it again.” Yeah, right.

Spanky the paddle was right beside me, but he didn’t pick it up. Instead, I felt his hand smooth down the skin of my ass and bit my lip. Guess old Spanky was just a fucking prop, I thought, right as Negan brought his hand down full force on my ass. Fuck. I nearly jumped off the desk from the sting. Shit. Shit. Shit.

“Count, princess, you’re getting fifteen.” Fuck was that his favorite fucking number?

“One, sir.” Fuck fuck fuck. And then another smack. And I counted. Each and every fucking one, from one to fifteen. Shit. I could feel the sting and burn. I knew that those fucking jeans were going to constitute as more fucking torture. I was also so wet that all I could possibly wish to take my mind off the literal flames of my burning skin was for Negan to bury himself deep inside of me and take care of my other pain.

“Pull up your pants, Amara.” WHAT? I shot him a look of disbelief over my shoulder. “It’s a punishment, princess.”

No fucking shit. Fuck. I stood carefully and bent over to grab my panties. Shit, this was gonna suck. I took my sweet time tugging the thin silky fabric over my burning ass. OUCH. I let them settle on my no doubt flaming red skin, then reached down for the jeans. This took far more time. More time than it took him to get them down my legs. More time that it took to put them on earlier at my house. I bit my lip and closed my eyes as the denim brushed my ass, even with the slight barrier of those fucking boy short panties. OUCH. Damn it. Once they were up, I buttoned them and zipped up.

When I turned to face Negan, I realized I wasn’t the only one who had enjoyed at least part of my punishment. Without waiting for instruction, I carefully got to my knees. What the hell, why not go full throttle submission? Looking up at him, I tugged his track pants down his hips and careful of his obvious need, I settled them on top of his shoes around his ankles. I watched his face as I rose up higher onto my knees and licked his hard shaft from tip to bottom. Nothing, just watched me. No words, no touch. Just his eyes on me. Well shit. Opening my mouth, I took him inside, using my tongue and then adding my hand for good measure.

Finally after the fourth bob of my head, I felt it. His hips thrusting ever so slightly forward. I worked harder and was rewarded by his hands sliding under my ponytail. And as he finally got into the swing of things, so to speak, his fucking mouth kicked into gear.

“That’s right, princess, take my cock, just fucking like that.” He pushed a bit too far and I gagged, again thankful that I’d had no breakfast. “Take it, sweetheart, take it.” And I swallowed my saliva and him, by fucking accident. Shit. “Oh fuck,” he moaned, and then, like I wasn’t entirely prepared for, he came. Down my fucking throat. That he was down because of a fucking accident.

It was swallow or choke so swallow I did. He started to go limp, but I waited, just as I always did when we finished having sex. And, just like during our normal fuckings, he helped me up and cleaned me up. My face this time. Tugging on my ponytail, he smiled down at me.

“Do you still want to go to the fucking dance?” He asked, but the heat of his anger was almost gone from his voice.

“Yeah, I do.” I answered, leaning against the desk and then hissing at the feeling of burning pain. Shit. “Damn it.” He grinned at me. Oh, sure, you can sit down, fucker.

His fingers brushed my errant bangs away. “Fine.” Was that permission? “I’ll go let Turtle Jones know I’m in for fucking chaperone duty.” Shit was he serious?

“Negan,” I began, but he brushed his lips against mine.

He shook his head when he pulled away. “This is non-negotiable, Amara. You go, I go.” Shit, fuck, shit. “Now get going, class is starting in ten minutes.” Shit. I grabbed my bag and the cap, and as I moved to pass him, he swatted me on my ass. FUCK. “Have a good day, princess.” OUCH.

#negan x ofc #coach negan x student #The Walking Dead #Smut #spank #punishment

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missjanjie · 4 years

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Branjie Fic | How Wonderful Life Is (While You’re in the World)

Title: How Wonderful Life Is (While You’re in the World) Summary: This is an epilogue/sequel to tiny dancer, because an extra dose was necessary. Word Count: ~1.7k Relationship: Branjie (Brooke Lynn Hytes/Vanessa Vanjie Mateo) Rating: T

Read on AO3

“I thought you’d be a little more excited by now,” A’keria observed. “You only graduate college once.”

Vanessa shrugged, setting the glue stick down. They’d been spending the day decorating their caps, but her heart just wasn’t in it. And that was because her heart was doing ballet in France. “I just miss her.”

“Come on, this was supposed to be a fun distraction,” Blair gently chimed in, resting her hand on her shoulder. “Brooke would want you to enjoy yourself, right?”

“Fuck, you make it sound like she’s dead,” she groaned and rest her head against the table. “How am I supposed to do this shit for another two months?” They were only two weeks into the ten-week engagement, and she already decided she couldn’t handle it.

A’keria pinched the bridge of her nose. “No, you just a drama queen. Aren’t you visiting her next month anyway? Bitching and moaning like you ain’t about to go to fucking France.”

Vanessa pushed herself up off the table, only to slump into her chair. “Y’all just don’t get it. We haven’t spent more than a few weeks apart in four years. I got separation anxiety!” Her cheeks flushed red, she was still embarrassed - she was self aware enough to know she was being childish and maybe a bit self-centered, but she couldn’t help herself; next to her mom, Brooke Lynn was the most important person in her life.

Blair nodded sympathetically. “Aw, honey, we understand. Why don’t we pick this up tomorrow? You should go give her a call before it gets too late over there. Go ahead, we’ll clean up here.”

A’keria arched her brow. “We will?”

“Yes,” she glared

Vanessa wasn’t paying attention to the bickering going on between her friends. Once Blair had given her the go-ahead to leave, she was gathering her things and heading right out the door. She glanced at her phone on the way out - it was about ten at night in Brooke’s side of the world, if she remembered correctly.

And lucky for her, Brooke Lynn was still awake and willing to Skype by the time she returned to their apartment.

“You’ve got glitter all over your face,” Brooke observed with a soft chuckle. “What sort of fun have you been getting up to over there?”

“None, I promise,” she retorted flatly. “We was decorating our caps but I just wasn’t feeling it. It’s kinda tacky at this point anyway,” she added, pulling dried glue off of her fingertips and flicking it away.

She pouted sympathetically. “Poor baby,” she cooed. “I think you should decorate it, though. It’s not like you to ever blend in.”

A slight smile twitched at the corners of her lips. “Yeah, maybe,” she shrugged. “How’s shit over there?”

“I mean, it’s hard to complain about this place,” she admitted with a soft laugh. “The only thing it’s missing is my beautiful girlfriend,” she cooed, batting her lashes.

Vanessa chuckled softly, looking down and pushing her hair off of her shoulders. “So, you ain’t gonna leave me for some fancy French bitch then?” She did her best to play it off as a lighthearted joke, but even after all this time, there was a nagging sense of doubt somewhere inside her that worried one day Brooke would wake up and realize she could do better.

Brooke scoffed and shook her head. “As if anyone in this entire continent could hold a candle to you. I’m offended at the mere suggestion, Vanj.”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I’ve just been missing you.”

“I miss you too, but you’ll be here before you know it, and you’ll have a shiny new degree to be proud of.”

She looked back at her half-decorated cap on the dresser. “Still kinda hard to believe.” On paper, it had looked like all the odds had been stacked against Vanessa from the get-go. No one ever truly believed that she had the intelligence and determination to earn a college degree. Hell, when she had finished her first year, people around her had been surprised.

Except for Brooke.

“No it’s not,” she replied without a moment’s hesitation. “You busted your ass from the moment I met you, I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone that tries as hard as you. You, my dear, are a force to be reckoned with.”

“Guess it’s hard to argue now that you got proof,” Vanessa conceded, “I just wish you was gonna be here for it.”

Brooke sighed sadly. “I do too, baby. But I promise, Nina’s going to be there livestreaming the whole thing to me.”

It wasn’t the same, but there was no point in belaboring the issue - it wasn’t going to change anything and they both would only feel worse. “You right, I know. Imma let you get to bed, talk to you tomorrow.”

“Alright, love you,” she blew a kiss at the screen.

“Love you too,” she smiled fondly and ended the call.

However, when Brooke Lynn closed her laptop, she didn’t leave it sitting on her desk. Instead, she packed it into its case and put it in with her luggage. She flopped down on her bed for a moment, she’s not an actress and lying to Vanessa was harder than any course she’d taken during her master’s program, especially seeing the sadness in her expression - it was physically painful, but she knew it would pay off.

The alarm went off on her phone moments later and she made her way to the front of the apartment building to wait for a taxi. “L'aéroport, s'il vous plaît,” her diction had improved, but her French was still remedial.

But she got there just fine and landed in JFK around midnight. She took the train back into Manhattan, then took a cab to Nina’s apartment. “Thanks for waiting up for me,” she whispered as she slipped inside and carefully closed the door behind her.

“No problem, but you definitely owe me,” Nina chuckled and grabbed her a bottle of water. “Now, tell me again why you’re waiting until her party to show up?”

Brooke took a swig from the bottle and set it down on the table. “Because the graduation ceremony is going to be too busy. Besides, the party is going to be all about her, it’ll be the perfect moment for, you know…”

Nina nodded in understanding. “She’s going to be so excited to see you. I can already hear it; ‘Brooke Lynn! You’re here!’” She imitated Vanessa’s distinct way of speaking, getting her friend to laugh and hopefully alleviating the nerves she knew were still lingering.

------

Vanessa ran to her family, one hand clutching her diploma and the other holding her cap steady on her head. “Y’all seeing this shit? I’m a fuckin’ graduate!” She beamed brightly as her family surrounded her with affection and praise, the reality that she had actually survived college - something even she didn’t anticipate for herself.

“Come on sweetheart, it’s time to celebrate,” her mother cooed, leading her into the car so they could relocate to the venue.

They had reserved a private party room at one of Vanessa’s favorite restaurants. It had already been decorated with balloons and congratulatory banners as family and friends began filing in.

“Aw, you guys! This is so nice of y’all,” Vanessa beamed as she looked around the room.

“Actually,” Nina started, practically bouncing on the balls of her feet with a giddy expression. “We have a little surprise for you.” She glanced over her shoulder, her smile brightening even more.

The room was silent, aside from some confused murmuring, until the sound of heels clacking against the hardwood floor got louder and louder until Brooke Lynn was standing in the doorway.

Vanessa’s eyes went wide and began to well with tears. “Brooke Lynn!”

“Hi, baby,” Brooke had barely gotten the phrase out before Vanessa launched herself at her. She caught her in a tight embrace, picking her up and spinning her around.

“I can’t believe you’re here! What about your show?”

She shrugged as she set her down. “The understudy agreed to do a couple shows so I could surprise my girlfriend,” she kissed her sweetly and ruffled her hair. “It’s so good to see you.”

Even after she was set down, Vanessa was still hugging her tight. “I’m so happy you’re here, oh my god,” she tilted her head up to blink away tears.

Brooke stroked her fingers through her hair, humming softly. Then she took a step back, swallowing thickly. “I… um… I actually have one more surprise for you.”

“You’re not pregnant, are you?”

She laughed awkwardly and shook her head. “No, this is just… something I’ve wanted to do since… honestly, since our first Thanksgiving together. I’ve been ready but… I finally think we’re ready,” she haphazardly rifled through her purse, her legs trembled as she got down on one knee.

The Mateo family had already erupted in excitement, scrambling for their phones and enthusiastically chattering in Spanish. Vanessa was the only quiet one, biting down on her knuckles as she was already starting to cry.

“Vanessa--”

“Yes!” “Let me finish!” Brooke giggled softly, then collected herself as quickly as she could, opening the box up. “Vanessa, I’ve loved you from the moment I met you, regardless of how stubborn I was about it in the beginning. But over these past four years, my love for you has only grown exponentially. And that’s why I want to ask you… will you marry me?” There was a beat of silence. “You can answer now.”

“Yes!” It was somewhere between a scream and a sob, Vanessa hardly knew what to do with herself, so she just threw her arms around Brooke and cried into the crook of her neck until she had pulled herself together enough to slide the ring onto her finger. “Damn, look at this rock!” She exclaimed to distract herself and everyone else from how much of a mess she was.

“This bitch really got a diploma and a wife on the same day,” A’keria remarked to Blair with a laugh. “But I’ll be damned if there ain’t anyone that deserves it more.”

As the newly-engaged couple embraced, the energy that surrounded them made it clear that everyone shared those sentiments. Brooke Lynn and Vanessa had been through a lot since the day they met in Katya’s dance class, but it was all worth it to lead up to this moment.

#branjie #branjie fic #rpdr rpf

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artificialqueens · 4 years

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How Wonderful Life Is (While You're in the World) Branjie - Joley

ao3 link

“I thought you’d be a little more excited by now,” A’keria observed. “You only graduate college once.”

“Come on, this was supposed to be a fun distraction,” Blair gently chimed in, resting her hand on her shoulder. “Brooke would want you to enjoy yourself, right?”

A’keria pinched the bridge of her nose. “No, you just a drama queen. Aren’t you visiting her next month anyway? Bitching and moaning like you ain’t about to go to fucking France.”

Blair nodded sympathetically. “Aw, honey, we understand. Why don’t we pick this up tomorrow? You should go give her a call before it gets too late over there. Go ahead, we’ll clean up here.”

A’keria arched her brow. “We will?”

“Yes,” she glared

And lucky for her, Brooke Lynn was still awake and willing to Skype by the time she returned to their apartment.

“You’ve got glitter all over your face,” Brooke observed with a soft chuckle. “What sort of fun have you been getting up to over there?”

She pouted sympathetically. “Poor baby,” she cooed. “I think you should decorate it, though. It’s not like you to ever blend in.”

A slight smile twitched at the corners of her lips. “Yeah, maybe,” she shrugged. “How’s shit over there?”

“I mean, it’s hard to complain about this place,” she admitted with a soft laugh. “The only thing it’s missing is my beautiful girlfriend,” she cooed, batting her lashes.

Brooke scoffed and shook her head. “As if anyone in this entire continent could hold a candle to you. I’m offended at the mere suggestion, Vanj.”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I’ve just been missing you.”

“I miss you too, but you’ll be here before you know it, and you’ll have a shiny new degree to be proud of.”

Except for Brooke.

“Guess it’s hard to argue now that you got proof,” Vanessa conceded, “I just wish you was gonna be here for it.”

Brooke sighed sadly. “I do too, baby. But I promise, Nina’s going to be there livestreaming the whole thing to me.”

“Alright, love you,” she blew a kiss at the screen.

“Love you too,” she smiled fondly and ended the call.

“No problem, but you definitely owe me,” Nina chuckled and grabbed her a bottle of water. “Now, tell me again why you’re waiting until her party to show up?”

——

“Come on sweetheart, it’s time to celebrate,” her mother cooed, leading her into the car so they could relocate to the venue.

They had reserved a private party room at one of Vanessa’s favorite restaurants. It had already been decorated with balloons and congratulatory banners as family and friends began filing in.

“Aw, you guys! This is so nice of y’all,” Vanessa beamed as she looked around the room.

The room was silent, aside from some confused murmuring, until the sound of heels clacking against the hardwood floor got louder and louder until Brooke Lynn was standing in the doorway.

Vanessa’s eyes went wide and began to well with tears. “Brooke Lynn!”

“Hi, baby,” Brooke had barely gotten the phrase out before Vanessa launched herself at her. She caught her in a tight embrace, picking her up and spinning her around.

“I can’t believe you’re here! What about your show?”

She shrugged as she set her down. “The understudy agreed to do a couple shows so I could surprise my girlfriend,” she kissed her sweetly and ruffled her hair. “It’s so good to see you.”

Even after she was set down, Vanessa was still hugging her tight. “I’m so happy you’re here, oh my god,” she tilted her head up to blink away tears.

Brooke stroked her fingers through her hair, humming softly. Then she took a step back, swallowing thickly. “I… um… I actually have one more surprise for you.”

“You’re not pregnant, are you?”

“Vanessa–”

“Yes!”

“Let me finish!” Brooke giggled softly, then collected herself as quickly as she could, opening the box up. “Vanessa, I’ve loved you from the moment I met you, regardless of how stubborn I was about it in the beginning. But over these past four years, my love for you has only grown exponentially. And that’s why I want to ask you… will you marry me?” There was a beat of silence. “You can answer now.”

“Yes!” It was somewhere between a scream and a sob, Vanessa hardly knew what to do with herself, so she just threw her arms around Brooke and cried into the crook of her neck until she had pulled herself together enough to slide the ring onto her finger. “Damn, look at this rock!�� She exclaimed to distract herself and everyone else from how much of a mess she was.

“This bitch really got a diploma and a wife on the same day,” A’keria remarked to Blair with a laugh. “But I’ll be damned if there ain’t anyone that deserves it more.”

#rpdr fanfiction #brooke lynn hytes #vanessa vanjie mateo #branjie #lesbian au #how wonderful life is while you're in the world #joley

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sparrowjaywrites · 5 years

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Survive We Shall (Chapter 01: What Tomorrow Brings)

Disclaimer: All recognizable Characters, places, and plots belong to those who own the copyright for Walking Dead and Criminal Minds respectfully such as AMC and Robert Kirkman, I do not know all their names.

All new characters such as Kat, The Takers, and Kat’s original group belong to me. Please do not use them or my storyline without my permission.

Warnings:

This story will contain foul language, nudity, sexual content, graphic violence, mentions of sexual assault, death, abuse, mentions of domestic abuse, partial depictions of sexual assault, depictions of domestic abuse, torture, suicide, depictions of suicidal thoughts, self-harm, PTSD, flash backs and much more.

Each Chapter will have its own trigger warnings directly below this warning at the start please use these to protect yourself while you read. If there are any issues regarding this please PM me.

Standing Warnings for All Chapters: (These Warnings are used so frequently it is pointless to add them by specific chapter.

Gore, Graphic Violence, Death, Swearing

Chapter Warnings:

-See Standing Warnings Above-

AN:

I started working on this story not long after season nine of Walking Dead started airing in October 2018. This story is technically a crossover between Walking Dead and Criminal Minds but the Criminal Minds characters do not actually come in besides a phone call in this chapter and mentions for at least the first 50 + chapters.

This story is pre-written through chapter 7 and I will be posting two chapters a week for the time being. The story is structured into chapters with specific themes and story beats. Every chapter will start and end with a quote like an episode of Criminal Minds does.

This story is also posted on my Fanfiction.net account: Creative Heart 1997, and on my A03 account: Kat_Jay_Sparrow

With that all out of the way, enjoy the show!

Survive We Shall

Season One

Episode 01: What Tomorrow Brings

---Line Break---

“And that’s the thing. The day before your whole life changes, forever, it feels just like any other day.” – Unknown

Kat hummed as she walked around her kitchen making her dinner, roast beef, potatoes, onions, and gravy. Not the healthiest meal, but one of her favorites. For desert a slice of cheesecake. She’d spent the day watching shows on Netflix while working on her next book; the fourth and final instalment of the Silver Star Chronicles.

‘How’s the book coming?’ Kat glances at her phone reading the text from her older brother.

‘Good, how’s the case?’

‘Finished, we’re headed back to DC now. I can’t wait to sleep.’ Kat snorts at the sleeping emoji her brother adds to the end of the text. She’d recently convinced him to get a smart phone and he’d been attempting to use them whenever possible ever since.

‘Sleep well, Spence.’ She sends him a heart emoji and gets back to her food. Spencer lived in DC and worked for the FBI as a criminal profiler, a member of the Behavioral Analysis Unit or BAU. He’d been working there for over thirteen years now, over half of Kat’s life. She finishes her dinner settling in to finish bingeing Merlin again.

Around six in the morning the ringing of her phone woke her. Kat blinks and rolls over with a groan ignoring the phone for a moment before sighing and picking it up.

“Hello?”

“Kat? Something’s happening, something bad. I need you to get to DC, as soon as you can. Pack what you want; you may not be home for a very long time. Please catch the next flight out!” Spencer’s terrified voice begs. Kat sits up in her bed putting her glasses on and glancing at her clock.

“Spencer what’s going on?”

“I’ll explain when you get here, just… get here.”

“Okay, I’ll catch the next flight.” Kat agrees the fear in her brother’s voice scaring her. Spencer Reid did not scare easily, over a decade in the job he had made sure of that. So for him to sound so terrified was a bad sign.

“Call me when you land, one of the team will pick you up. Oh, bring your gun. I love you, Katrina.”

“I love your too, Spencer, see you in a few hours.” Kat hangs up the phone pausing to take a breath looking around her room. She takes a breath and stands rushing to pack. She grabs a duffle bag stuffing her gun and her ammo in it, she pauses before grabbing her bow locking it in its case and stuffing it and her arrows in her duffle bag as well. If she needed her gun it may come in handy, who knows, plus if she wasn’t coming back she’d want it with her. Rossi would let her practice on his property like when she was a teenager she was sure. She adds her pocket knife and Swiss army knives to the bag before dropping it by the top of the stairs.

Next was her star trek messenger bag, her laptop, IPod, Nintendo Switch, IPad, and kindle went in there along with the cords, her spare headphones, and her phone cord. She added her sketch books, pencils, and notebooks. Her backpack was next, her favorite pictures being pulled from the walls and taken from their frames to be placed in a Ziploc baggy inside along with her favorite photo album, a Ziploc full of jewelry from her mom or members of Spencer’s team growing up, a small black stuffed cat Spencer had given her for her fifth birthday named Midnight, her high school diploma and Bachelor’s degree in creative writing, and finally the first printed copies of each of her books, seven in total.

Last was her suit case where she tossed a few pairs of shoes, all her clean socks, underwear, and bras. A few jackets, a few pairs of jeans, shorts, t-shirts, long sleeved shirts, and tank tops. She tossed in her Harry Potter, Twilight, and Edgar Allen Poe books. Lastly she added her first aid kit, and her fifteen pairs of glasses. Kat had taken to owning a lot of different styles of glasses to go with her different outfits, something she’d picked up from Penelope a women who worked with her brother who’d been like an older sister to her since she’d met her.

Kat pulls out her phone booking the next flight leaving for DC, frowning when the only one available before noon had a layover in Texas. She shakes her head booking the first class ticket and calling a cab. The last thing she wanted to do was leave her truck in airport parking if she didn’t know how long she’d be gone. It being the middle of the week SeaTac was surprisingly more busy than normal; the place was packed with people. Kat quickly got her boarding pass moving to check her bags, having flown with her gun enough times to know the drill.

Kat got in line. After almost twenty minutes the woman checking bags took a call then shut down her station. Kat watched in confusion as all the terminal’s shut down. People began whispering around her.

“Attention the state of Washington has just entered a state of emergency. Bags are no longer being checked, if we call your flight number please move to the front and you will be taken to your plane to board; please take your luggage with you. Security measures are being lifted. Thank you.”

“What the fuck?” Kat mutters as people around her begin to panic.

“Flight 354 to New York.” Kat watches as people join a worried looking flight attendant who leads them away a few minutes later. “Flight 356 to DC with layover in Houston?” Kat glances at her boarding pass then approaches the flight attendant who glances at her pass before nodding.

“Uh, I have a gun and permit to carry. I normally check it, what do I do now?” Kat asks her before they head out.

“It doesn’t matter, keep it on you. We’ve been told to just get everyone on the plane and out. The military showed up twenty minutes ago giving orders, apparently the whole country is under martial law.” The woman says as she begins leading Kat and around twenty others to their boarding gate. Kat shares a worried look with those around her. Before long they are all standing outside the gate, two soldiers stand by the doors asking people questions as they board, something about bites?

“Ma’am has anyone attacked and or bitten or scratched you in the past twenty four hours?” Kat raises an eyebrow.

“No… What’s going on?”

“Please board the plane, Ma’am.” The soldier won’t look her in the eye, though she catches a look of fear before he looks away. Kat sighs but boards taking her seat. She puts her suitcase on the floor in front of the seat beside hers; knowing it won’t fit in the overhead or it was unlikely too and it certainly wouldn’t fit under the seat. She puts her messenger bag, backpack, and duffle bag on the seat with her purse on top. Kat leans her head into the aisle counting around thirty people seated in the normal section; two other people were seated in first class with her so far. Ten more people board before the doors are closed. Their where only around forty passengers it seemed, on a jet that would normally fit at least a hundred and fifty, probably more.

“Attention passengers this is your captain speaking, please take your seats and prepare for takeoff, safety procedures will be explained once we are at cruising altitude, thank you.” Kat buckles her belt shooting a quick text to Spencer as they taxi onto the runway.

‘On plane, something is up, bags where not checked, they had me board with my luggage over an hour before the flight was to take off. They had me board without checking my gun even after I told them about it! They said something about martial law and a state of emergency. What is going on? We’re taking off without safety warnings, there where soldiers asking us if we’d been bitten or scratched as we boarded. I’ll text you once I have Wi-Fi and can.’

Kat sits back in her seat staring out the window as they reach the runway; she leans over her bags to watch out the window as they take off. As they climb her view of the city widens, her stomach drops as she sees pillars of smoke rising from downtown, and what appear to be military helicopters flying that way. What the fuck was happening? Where they under attack?

“Attention passengers this is your captain speaking, we have now reached cruising altitude, we should be reaching Houston in approximately four hours. Flight attendants will be by with drinks after they finish their safety instructions. Thank you for flying Alaska.” Kat shakes her head, why wasn’t anyone telling them anything?

Three hours later a high pitched scream in the back of the plane dragged her attention away from her book. Kat spins around in her seat looking down her aisle along with most of the planes passengers, near the back of the plane two people had jumped up and pulled a woman from her seat. Kat unbuckles sprinting down the aisle to see a woman with what appeared to be a large bite out of the side of her shoulder. A deep guttural growling could be heard from her seat now that she was no longer screaming.

Suddenly the woman tore herself from the men and dived back into the seat a moment later she was sitting on the floor of the aisle holding a small child in her arms as he struggled. The boy was clawing at his mother and clearly attempting to bite her again, it took Kat a moment to realize the inhuman growling was coming from the boy. One of the men leaned down to tried to pull the boy back; the boy turned his head to look at the man, Kat catching the blood smeared around the boy’s mouth even from where she was.

“What the fuck!” The man attempts to jump back as the boy suddenly latches onto his arm and bites down viciously, tearing a chunk of skin and muscle from his arm, chewing then swallowing. Kat stumbles back in horror as people quickly back away from the boy and the now screaming man. The woman is trying to yell over the man, she pulls the boy back into her arms, trying to restrain him.

A few seconds later the mother is dragged back from the child from behind by another passenger. As soon as she losses her grip the boy is up and stumbling down the aisle towards a woman who was leaning around the edge of her seat to look. She moves to pull back just as the boy reaches her sinking his teeth into her neck, her garbled scream joining the other horrified screams and yelling throughout the plane.

The screams all cut off as if muted when the deafening crack of gunshot has all eyes moving from the boy to a man standing behind the mother in the aisle. Kat’s eyes flicker back to the boy… or more correctly the body of the boy lying only around fifteen feet in front of her. The woman he’d attacked was hanging out of her seat motionless, blood dripping onto the boy’s corpse.

“NO! No, not my baby, no!” The mother shrieks. The man holding her back lets her go stumbling into the middle row of seats. The man with the gun lowers it looking a bit ill.

“I’m Jacob Moore, air marshal.” He holds up his credentials, not that Kat could read them from where she was. “I’m sorry Ma’am but your boy was infected… I didn’t have a choice.”

“Infected?” A man standing in the other aisle of the plane asks looking confused.

“You… You killed my boy… my Bradley…” The mother shouts stumbling to her feet towards Moore.

“How many of you saw the news this morning?” Three hands go up. Moore sighs running a hand through his hair. “There’s some kind of virus going around, once infected people die… they die and then they come back… they come back from the dead and eat people… like zombies, but real.” He explains his face completely serious.

“Is that why the soldiers were asking us about bites?” A woman asks fearfully, a young toddler clutched in her arms.

“Yes.”

“You killed my boy!” The mother had approached Moore without anyone really noticing, or if they had they hadn’t said anything. She suddenly punches him dead in the face; snatching his gun from his belt she aims it at him as she backs herself into the row of seats behind her until her back hits the window.

“Ma’am he was already dead, please drop the gun.” Moore pleads from his spot on the ground slowly standing up his hands held in front of him as blood trickles down his face. The woman glares at him then presses the gun against the plane window. Kat freezes in place as her eyes widen.

“Your all with him, he killed my boy but your listening to him.” She mutters crazily. If she pulled that trigger the plane would depressurize and they would all die.

“Ma’am please, you’ll kill us all, yourself included.” Moore pleads his eyes wide. Kat backs down the aisle until she reaches her seat, she glances at her stuff her eyes landing on her duffle bag… she had good aim… maybe? Kat slides into her seat and slips her gun from her duffle bag quickly checking it was loaded before standing up and slowly moving down the aisle of the plane. The woman was muttering to herself now, her finger firmly on the trigger. Kat keeps the gun at her side as she gets closer. She stops a few feet from the kid’s body not willing to get too close.

Kat grabs a magazine from the seat beside her and waves it to get Moore’s attention he glances at her. She moves the gun so he can see it and nods to the woman. Moore stares at her for a moment then nods.

“If you don’t drop the gun we won’t have a choice but to hurt you Ma’am.” Kat takes a breath raising the gun as the woman turns to look at Moore as he talks. She flicks off the safety and lines up the shot.

“I’ll kill all of you! You killed my Bradley. Mommy’s coming baby.” She raises the gun to the window again. Kat pulls the trigger. The woman slumps to the ground, blood spraying the wall and seats behind her. Moore quickly moves forward retrieving his gun as people scream. Kat turns back on her safety lowering her gun as she stares at it… she just killed a woman.

“Thank you, Miss, what’s your name?” Moore approaches her slowly; he steps over the boy placing a hand over hers on her gun. Kat looks up at his face blinking the world seeming to disappear around her, her vision tunneling to focus only on him and the gun in her hand.

“Kat, er Katrina Reid.”

“You did well, Kat. Why don’t we sit down, alright?” Moore takes the gun from her hand and leads her back to her seat… how did he know which was her seat? “Kat you need to breathe slower, follow my breathes… Kat?” Moore said something more but she couldn’t make it out as the world spun around her suddenly going dark.

---Line Break---

Kat blinked, her eyes slowly adjusting to the light around her. Someone was patting her cheek; her eyes focus the memories of the last ten minutes coming back to her all at once. Moore smiles as she blinks up at him.

“Welcome back, do you know where you are?” Kat nods sitting up straighter and looking around. She can hear people crying and talking throughout the plane. The two other first class passengers are both standing peering over at her from the middle row of seats.

“I shot someone…” Kat whispers feeling like she was going to be sick.

“You saved us.” A man with greying silvery short hair from first class speaks up.

“You did.” Moore agrees.

“Here you are Ma’am.” A flight attendant hands her a glass of water shakily. Kat takes it with a shaky nod of her own.

“Where’d you learn to shoot like that?”

“My brothers taught me… they’re FBI agents…” Kat says quietly.

“I’m going to give you this back, please put it away.” Moore hands her, her gun. Kat puts it in her duffle bag zipping it closed.

“Attention passengers, we would like to ask everyone in economy class in seats A and B to please move to seats behind row twenty and in front of row fifteen. Thank you. Please follow Air Marshal Moore and the Flight Attendants orders; we will hopefully be landing soon.” The captain comes on the intercom.

“I’m going to go calm people down.” Moore pats her arm giving a nod to the other two people in first class before moving into the back of the plane. Kat sits in her seat staring at the seat in front of her sipping the water to keep from puking.

“Attention passengers, I’m sorry to say we will not be landing in Houston… it seems the airport is not responding. We will be continuing directly to DC.” Kat turns to look at the silver haired man a few seats away from her.

“That can’t be good.” He mutters with a shake of his head. Kat shakes her head mutely. The plane should hold enough fuel to make it to DC… but that was only if they’d been fully fueled before taking off, and with their rush to send planes out the chances of that where slim. Kat pulls out her phone connecting to the inflight Wi-Fi. A strange sound behind her catches her attention before she can dial. She turns around in her seat her face paling as she sees the woman the boy had bitten moving. The same guttural growls the boy had been making issuing from her lips as she attempts to reach for a woman a few seats in front of hers.

“Moore!” Kat yells unbuckling quickly and jumping to her feet. Moore quickly runs into the first class slipping between the seats to move to her aisle from the other one.

“What? What is it?” Kat points at the woman… or corpse. Its eyes where clouded, face pale from the blood lose from having the boy biting out its neck.

“Oh shit, she was bit. Does anyone have a knife?” He calls looking around. Kat nods turning and quickly pulling her pocket knife from her bag and handing it to him.

“How many weapons do you have?”

“Five… gun, pocket knife, bow, and two Swiss army knives.” Kat answers with a shrug. “My brother called me panicked and said to get to DC that something was happening and to bring my gun… my brother doesn’t panic. So I brought my gun… plus some.” Kat was surprised by how calm she felt… she wasn’t sure if she was going back into shock or if her emotions where too overloaded at that point to work or what, but despite her fear she was calming down.

“Well we’re all lucky you came prepared.” Moore snorts and moves swiftly up to the corpse. It grabs at his clothing while he grabs the top of its head forcing it’s face down against the armrest while he stabs it in the back of the head at the base of the skull. The corpse slumps down, dead… again.

“The mother was bitten too… Will she… turn?” Kat asks not completely sure what word to use.

“No you shot her in the head… what I saw on TV seemed to suggest that if you kill the brain these things stay dead.” Moore cleans off the knife with the woman’s shirt before handing it back to her. Kat stares at it before nodding slowly and putting it back in her bag. Kat sits back down picking back up her phone she quickly dials Spencer’s number.

“Hello? Kat?”

“Spencer, what the fuck is going on? The air marshal said there is some kind of virus going around… It kills people then they come back to life as some kind of fucked up zombie?”

“He’s right.” Spencer says quietly his voice resigned.

“I know he is! A kid bit a woman’s neck out; she just came back to fucking life!” Kat snaps.

“What? Are you okay, did you get bit?” Spencer asks franticly.

“Is that Kat? Why are you asking her that? What’s happening, Reid?” Kat can hear Morgan, one of her brother’s coworkers and their unofficial older brother ask.

“No, I… I’m okay. We dealt with it… but the boy’s mother she lost it when Moore had to shoot him… She… she took his gun and was threatening to kill us… I.” Kat falls silent taking a breath. “She aimed it at the window; she would have killed everyone on board. I had to shoot her, Spence… I shot her, I killed someone.”

“Oh god…” Spencer whispers clearly to himself, he takes a shaky breath. “Katrina listen to me, you did what you had to do. Okay? You didn’t have a choice. It will be okay.”

“I… I know. But Spence what is this?” Kat asks blinking back tears as she tries to hold it together. She just wanted to be in DC already, to hug her big brother and pretend none of this had happened.

“We don’t know. How long until you land?”

“I don’t know we took off early then we were supposed to land for a layover in Houston but the pilot said the airport wasn’t responding so we’re coming straight to DC. I’m guessing at least two to four hours.”

“The airport wasn’t responding?” Spencer asks his voice tense.

“That’s what he said…” Kat frowns why hadn’t it responded… oh. It was gone; the airport was probably over run by those… those things. “Spence, how bad is this thing?”

“It’s everywhere, all over the world. We’ve just been told to go home or to the refugee center the military is setting up downtown. Apparently both Seattle and New York have already been overrun.”

“Seattle? That’s what the smoke was then… Chaos as those… things took over.”

“Probably.” Kat frowns as Spencer’s voice crackles.

“Spence? Your breaking up.”

“I’m losing signal… the cell towers have been being over loaded… I’m… lose you. When you land get to Rossi’s.” Spencer’s voice gets more and more staticky as he talks.

“Spence? Spencer?”

“Get to Rossi’s, I love you…”

“I love you too.” Kat says franticly as the connection gets worse.

“Get… Rossi’s.” The call goes dead.

“Spencer? Spencer?” Kat whispers desperately into the phone. She closes her eyes leaning her head against the seat in front of her. Get to Rossi’s… Get to Rossi’s… She could do that, couldn’t she?

“Attention passengers please return to your seats and buckle up. We seem to be running low on fuel and will be making an emergency landing. Please prepare.” Kat bites her lip buckling in and wrapping the seat beside hers buckle through the handles of her bags hopefully to keep them from flying around and hitting her if things got too bumpy.

Kat grips the arms of her seat as she stares out the plane window as they begin a rapid decent. Trees grow bigger as they fly very close over them until finally they touch down with a lot of jerks and bumps before finally coming to a stop in what appears to be a field.

“We have landed safely somewhere in Georgia. Please remain seated. We will come and get you and your belongings row by row as soon as the emergency slide is in place.” Kat takes a shaky breath loosening her grip on the seat arms. She gathers her stuff, not planning to leave her stuff behind.

“Ma’am your next. Please bring your stuff and make your way to where the captain is waiting.” The flight attendant who brought her water before motions her to go to the door. Kat makes her way over there.

“You’re the one who shot the woman who had the gun right?” The captain asks. Kat nods. “Thank you. We will slide your luggage down to my co-pilot first then you, alright?”

“Okay.” Kat slides one bag at a time down the slide then sits at the edge; she takes a breath and slides down, grateful for the helping hand of the co-pilot as she reaches the bottom. She takes her bags and moves to the side looking around. There was no way she was going to be able to lug all these bags all the way from middle of nowhere Georgia to DC.

Within an hour the plane was empty, Moore and a few flight attendants lowering what food, water, blankets, pillows, and other useful items they found while searching the plane down before coming down themselves.

“Now what do we do?” Someone yells.

“Survive?” Moore suggests with a shrug.

“Whatever this is, it’s everywhere.” Kat speaks up deciding to share what Spencer told her with the others. “They’re setting up a refugee center in downtown DC. It’s a ways but if we can make it there we may be safe? Or safe-ish…” Kat shakes her head with a frown.

“And how do you know that?” A woman asks in a snide tone.

“My brother is an FBI agent he lives in DC. I talked to him a few hours ago, he said this virus is everywhere all over the world. They sent the agents home or to the center.” Kat explains glaring at the woman.

“Why should we listen to the murderer?” One man yells. Kat frowns and shakes her head turning to grab her bags.

“She saved all our lives so you can shut your mouth!” Silver haired guy speaks up.

“She shouldn’t have even had a gun on board!” A woman retorts.

“I normally check it, as is the law, but they told me to just get on just like they did you, I told them I had it.” Kat snaps.

“Enough! Look we’re on our own. Help isn’t coming. So we need to get moving. If there is a center in DC then there may be one in Atlanta. We should head there.” The co-pilot suggests. A few people nod.

“My brother said both Seattle and New York where overrun who’s to say Atlanta isn’t either? I think DC is our best shot.” Kat argues.

“And how exactly do you propose we get to DC? Walk?” Another man asks.

“Yeah if we have to, just like how we’d get to Atlanta.” Kat points out.

“I agree with Kat, we should head to DC.” Moore sides with her.

“Well I ain’t going anywhere, when our plane doesn’t show up someone will come looking.” One woman says sitting down, a few people follow suit.

“How about we split into groups, those going to Atlanta will go with Jeffery.” The captain motions to the co-pilot. “Those going to DC can go with me, Moore, and Kat. And those who want to stay can?” People nod seemingly liking that plan.

“We’ll split the food and water evenly into three groups then split into groups.” Jeffery says people nod. The flight attendants, Jeffery, and the captain split up the food. The captain bringing a bag full over to Kat and Moore. Jeffery gives a bag to the people who clearly have decided to stay and takes the third with him.

“Okay split into your groups.” Silver hair guy and the other first class passenger join Kat’s group along with three of the five flight attendants, the woman with the toddler, a teenager and a young girl, and two others.

“Why don’t we all start with introducing ourselves?” The captain suggests. “I’m Daniel Blake.”

“Jacob Moore.”

“Katrina Reid, most people call me Kat.”

“Johnathon Thomas, call me Tom.” Silver hair says.

“Mia Jones.” The flight attendant who gave Kat the glass of water speaks up.

“Olivia Charles.”

“Tiffany Dunge.” The other two flight attendants speak up.

“Tommy Myers.” The other man from first class says.

“Matilda June, people call me Tilly, this is Lillian.” The woman with a toddler speaks up introducing the little girl in her arms.

“I’m John Francis; this is my sister Taylor Francis.” The teen introduces himself and the little girl.

“Isabella Johnson.”

“Marcus Brown.” Kat surveys their group looking each person over closely.

Daniel had short neatly cut black hair with a few streaks of grey, he was around fifty years old, with pale skin, and looked to be biracial half white, half Asian, around Kat’s height. Moore was younger nearer her age, maybe a few years older in his early thirties, he had curly brown hair cut short, inquisitive brown eyes, and pale skin with freckles sprinkled across his face, he was tall and lanky, probably over six foot, he reminded her of Spencer. Tom had silvery greying hair a silver beard with a slight mustache and a scar on his right cheek, tall about six foot.

Mia had blonde hair, was shorter then Kat by an inch or two maybe five-five. Olivia had black very curly hair held close to her head by a tight bun, she was African American with a very dark complexion, a few freckles along her nose, she was around Kat’s height. Tiffany was Asian, very short around five foot with black long hair held in a ponytail and dark brown eyes. Tommy had bright red carrot orange hair, freckles across his face, and startling blue eyes, he was tall and lanky at around 6 foot.

Tilly was young around Kat’s age, maybe a year older so around twenty-eight. She had dark brown hair like Kat’s and emerald green eyes; she was Kat’s height almost exactly so about five-seven. Lillian looked like her mom with curly brown hair pulled back into two pigtails she was about three with the same emerald green eyes.

John was pale, around five-ten, clearly about sixteen or seventeen years old, he had long black hair that reached just past his shoulders, an earring in his left ear. Taylor had long wavy golden blonde hair pulled back in a braid like Kat’s, she had bright blue eyes and seemed to be around ten or eleven.

Isabella was a bottle blonde with brown roots just starting to show, she was pale with hazel eyes, and was chewing gum. Marcus was the tallest well over six foot Kat guessed around six-five, he had brood shoulders, dark skin, and a shaved head.

“Let’s see if we can find a house or road so we can figure out where we are and maybe find a map.” Daniel suggests. They all grab their bags and follow him. Kat lugs her bags after him, she was going to have to figure out a better solution to carrying her stuff and soon if she was going to make it to DC.

“Now this is not the end. It is not even the beginning of the end. But it is, perhaps, the end of the beginning.” – Winston Churchill

---Line Break---

AN:

I hope you all enjoyed! I’m looking forward to working on this story for a long time. I have plans to continue this far into the future possibly even reaching the time period the show is currently set it. Let me know what you think! Follow me to be notified when a new chapter is posted or to be notified when I post a new story or update my other current stories!

Any kind of review that is nice even a Good Chapter or a smiley face is appreciated!

– Kat

#walking dead #Criminal Minds #crossover #Daryl Dixon #daryl dixon x oc #walking dead fanfiction

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kbcwin-blog · 5 years

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pendragonfics · 6 years

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In Love Or Something

Paring: Sherlock Holmes/Reader

Tags: female reader, writer’s block, writer, angst, roommates, Sherlock being Sherlock, idiots in love, fluff.

Summary: A young writer living with Sherlock is the new John 2.0 when there's a spare room available in 221B. This also means she's the one who puts up with Sherlock, and gets in close to life as he knows it.

Word Count: 2,992

Current Date: 2017-12-14

There was an idea that writers could just pick up a pen, and whenever they wished, the words would come forth. That idea was, sadly, just an idea, and ever the mundane human you were, there was nothing that could make it get any better. Tea did nothing. Meditation, well, that was out of the question. You stayed in the room above the flat of the Sherlock Holmes, asshole supreme, and, notorious noisy man. Whenever your fingers would poise to write the fictional story you were destined to (or taught to, after five years spent at a very expensive university where you studied novels and deconstructed them to buggery), the tall man would shoot the wall, would call your name, would bang the door on his way out to solve a crime.

You see, the was your plight. Middleclass, female. Owner of a diploma in the arts, or really, a fancy paper that failed to get you into a publishing house two years ago when you graduated with honours. Your uncle, a policeman at the Scotland Yard knew you were soon to be penniless and had no problems shaking up anywhere until you found a job, and pulled strings to allow you to stay in the spare room in 221B Baker street, prime real estate in London. Well, that was a month ago. You now worked as Sherlock Holmes’ new Watson, since the other man could not run around to corpses and crime scenes after becoming the primary caregiver of his daughter.

But your story…!

“_________, I need you to look at something,” Sherlock called your name, that baritone tenor getting to your nerves like tears when gas comes.

You barely grit your teeth, and pushing the computer from your lap, you march down the stairs to see what’s wrong in the land of Holmes. Sherlock stands in the middle of the lounge room, holding his head like it’s a football, or perhaps, on fire. He’s wearing pyjamas, yet, it’s after ten o’clock on a Tuesday and he’s usually elbows-deep in a bag of thumbs from Molly Hooper or finding someone’s amnesiac step-grandmother.

“Yeah?” You ask, hands upon hips akimbo. “Don’t tell me you need an idiot’s perspective on something.”

He releases his hands from his head, giving you a small smile. “You’re not an idiot…” He goes to protest.

You raise a brow at his claim. “Just last week you yelled it at me before I went to bed. And threw a slipper at me.” You say bluntly, staring him directly in the eyes. “So, what is it? I’m not telling you where your cigarettes are.”

His eyes look bleary, come to see it, and there’s a slight stumble in his step when he moves back to sit in his favourite chair. He’s not using, you’re on him like a hound about that, and there’s no way he’s drunk, he absolutely loathes day-drinking when the days of the week don’t begin with an S. You’re not an idiot, he’s right, but even an idiot could see that Sherlock Holmes, detective extraordinaire, was –

“You’re sick.” You say.

He goes to protest, “No, I’m not,” he exclaims, wincing at his own tone. “I – I didn’t call you down here to mother me, I need a hand on – on –,” he repeats the word once more, and then, sneezes into his pyjama sleeve. “How am I sick?”

You shake your head, moving toward the kitchen. It’s a mess, as always, but some of it is your mess, so you do not complain. You flick the kettle on, and tidying up the dirty dishes into some semblance of a pile, you ruminate on how Sherlock got sick. “It could be because of that time you went out and didn’t bring an umbrella, you know, the night when all the taxis were on strike,” you call out, pulling down two mugs and tea bags. “…or that night when you didn’t bring your coat and we went into the sewer to follow a lead on foot,” you gag at the memory, remembering how cold it was underground, and how lucky you were for wearing one of Uncle Greg’s knitted jumpers. “Or –,”

There’s another sneeze, and a splutter, “Okay, I get it. I’m the idiot.”

You bring the tea to the lounge, and handing Sherlock his cup (a mug with a picture of a panda on the centre), you take yours to the window, far away from the germs he’s giving off. “I wish I recorded that, it would be so nice to hear you say that phrase over and over,” you laugh to yourself, blowing the steam from your chipped blue and white mug. “But I wasn’t called down here to fuss about and make tea out of goodwill. I am an author.”

“You will be if you ever write something,” he says into his mug.

You decide right then to ignore what the asshole of the year has muttered, and take a deep chug of your tea. If your mouth was full, you couldn’t spar with him with insults and mockery.

“So?” you prompt, with an air of irritation to your tone. “Do I have to sniff a cadaver, or look at a case file…?”

Sherlock is silent, cradling his tea in his lap. If he wasn’t six-foot-tall, and owned a handgun, you could have no problem picturing him as a small, sick boy, nose red and eyes bleary and breathing congested. “It’s…it’s nothing.” He finally says. “Forget about it.”

You place your half-drunk mug on the windowsill, and take your leave.

When you come down six hours later, it’s almost afternoon tea time, and having written fifteen words shy of a thousand into your word processor, you decide it’s time to stretch your aching back, work out the kinks that found their way into your smooshed buttocks, and get more tea. You hardly look around, but when you see the milk’s all gone, and there’s no orange juice, and none in the cupboard either, you grab your wallet, and prepare to take leave to the Tesco’s around the corner.

But before you call out to say where you’re going, you see him. Face pressed into his shoulder, sitting upright in his sofa seat. Legs out like they were full-length broomsticks, and not appendages, a hand dangling over the side of the armchair in a way that could never be comfortable. You’re not a heartless woman, just a killjoy realist, and instead of just turning and going to get milk and juice, you go to Sherlock’s room. The one he said never to go into, even if the world was ending.

Selecting a spare blanket, you drape it over your roommate’s sick body, and retreat to the outside world to complete the chores.

---

You’re over a thousand words on your story now, and having told Sherlock you’re taking the day off, it’s now a week after he got sick, and now better, he’s back to being an asshole about everything and anything. Thus, while he goes around solving policemen’s unsolvable puzzles, you’ve got your head down in a silent zone block, typing away madly before the inspiration leaves you. It’s been a hard week, and hardly getting to type around the lifestyle as Sherlock’s new blogger, you’re down about your progress. Thank goodness it isn’t November, because otherwise you’d doubly punish yourself, and try and do the writing challenge where people write 50,000 words in a month.

There’s someone sitting beside you in the next cubicle, impeccably dressed. You peer over at him, and narrow your eyes. You’ve met Mycroft Holmes before, and like you don’t like Sherlock at the best of times, you most certainly don’t like the eldest Holmes brother at the worst. He’s nothing but a pencil-pushing moral compass, and you’re nothing but a keyboard-tapping writer with a slight anger problem.

You deserved a holiday. Perhaps Berlin was nice this time of year? Somewhere the lifestyle of the Holmes wouldn’t follow you.

In Morse Code, he clicks a pen against his leg.

S-H-E-R-L-O-C-K.

You roll your eyes. You wonder if there was a possibility that one day, you could roll your eyes so hard, they’d roll backwards into your head. Or out, and roll away to their heart’s content onto the sidewalk. You look through your laptop bag, and finding your loyalty card for an ice creamery, you tap against the desk.

P-I-S-S—O-F-F—M-Y-C-R-O-F-T.

He chuckles dryly, and goes on.

N-E-E-D-S—A-N—EYE—ON—H-I-M.

You reply, T-A-L-K—O-U-T-S-I-D-E.

Taking your time, you tuck your laptop into its bag, with now a thousand words, and four hundred and thirty on top of that. You fold the cord into itself, and slip your phone into your pocket. You do this all while knowing that the elder brother of your roommate is watching, and while your time is not worth money, his is, and wasting it is as sweet as the petty squabbles you win against Sherlock.

But once you’re outside the library, and you’ve bought yourself a coffee with extra sugar and cream, you take a seat under a monument, and listen to what bargain that Mycroft has intended to strike.

“So, Sherlock needs an eye on him?” you say, inhaling your coffee. “What else is new? Is the show Doctor Who British government propaganda to hide the fact that there is alien life?” He doesn’t say anything to that. “Ooh, no news is good news, I’ll tell all my friends that gossip…”

Mycroft sighs. “He’s volatile still. Getting over the whole ordeal of losing his close friend, finding his sister…ah, there’s so much trauma in his life you just have to close your eyes and point, and there’ll be one there to choose from.” He eyes your coffee, seemingly jealous of your sweet dose of caffeine. “And don’t tell your friends that that show is real, you’ll just sound crazy.”

You laugh to yourself. “I’m a twenty-seven-year-old woman, sitting on a bench on her day off, and yet, still talking to a Holmes. I am a writer. I am a lackey to whatever Sherlock gets up to! I talk to myself when I’m writing to get an idea of what the words will sound like when read! Crazy? Oh, man, you don’t know crazy until you’re where I am.”

Mycroft doesn’t contest on that. Instead, he hands you a note. It’s handwritten, in a curly font that makes you think it’s from a woman. The paper is nice, a soft yellow cardstock, bought probably at a newsagency. You’re no idiot, yes, but you’re smart enough to deduce that this note is from his mother, and not a woman he works with. Or maybe, just by reading the first few words gave it away.

Sherlock, I gave birth to you, raised you and taught you all that you know! It says. You can almost picture his mother scowling writing this, Don’t forget to call your father for his birthday –

You close the notepaper in on itself. “So, am I a carrier pigeon now?”

He considers it, but instead says, “I don’t trust the postal service –,”

You make a noise, “Her majesties own postal service? I should go to Buckingham and tell her myself that the Mycroft Holmes, backbone of the United Kingdom doesn’t trust –,”

He rolls his eyes. “to get there in time. Father’s birthday is in three days.”

“Okay, okay, I’ll keep an eye on your brother,” You chuckle to yourself, eyeing him. “But not for money, and not for your sick obsession of watching people constantly on CCTV to satisfy your strange ways.” You stand, and chugging the rest of your coffee, place the empty cup into Mycroft’s hands. “Until next time, Microsoft Holmes.”

---

You would be at forty words off the next thousand on your creative piece, but instead, you’re standing beside Sherlock with your notepad and recording device at the ready, and looking at a very deceased man.

“Sixty, male, ambidextrous, straight. Woodworker, low education, raised in the country. Lived, still, in the countryside.” He states, examining the corpse that looks like it was either ready to get from the slab and dance in a Michael Jackson music video, or go straight into the furnace to become ashes. “See the dirt under his nails? Callouses on fingers, splinters.”

You nod, doing your best to make sure you weren’t being disrespectful to the deceased man, but also, not show how much the seven-day-old corpse who had once been named Alvin Ludwig was making you feel about the curry you had for lunch (and how much it wanted to make a reappearance).

Your Uncle stood by the door of the morgue, beside the man who had been doing the post-mortem. It was Molly’s day off; she and her friend Harry had decided to take a trip to Bath. But Uncle Greg watched the both of you, perhaps a little too closely.

“So, what’s the verdict?” He asked Sherlock.

He placed his magnifying glass away in his pocket. “He’s a victim of that perp of yours.” He states. “If you see here, by his ear, there are two holes that seem unnoticeable, but appear to be deep enough to pierce the skull.”

The other man at the door’s eyes are wide, and comes the corpse to see it. “Cause of death?”

Sherlock shakes his head of curls, “If you checked the mouth, though, you’d notice a lack of hydration –,”

“This means that Mr. Ludwig had been attacked by the killer,” you say, “but instead of the standard death the others had, he survived it. Starved to death.”

Sherlock smiles to you. “Exactly.”

Later, you’re not in a morgue, but outside it, and Sherlock is off speaking to a detective heatedly about his observational skills. You barely get to get a word in edgeways, and waiting it out, see your uncle alone, pocketing his phone from whoever he was calling at the Yard with the new evidence.

“_________, you look well,” he grins, bringing you in for a hug. “I haven’t seen you in months! How’s everyone going at home?” You talk about your family, and he rants about how your mother would always be on the lookout for trouble. You don’t believe it, but laugh away. He’s her twin, anyway, he’d know her better than anyone. “So, I see you and Sherlock are getting along fine. You’ve even taken up John Watson’s blog, yeah?”

You blush at that. “I’m not replacing him, or anything,” you say, “He’s busy being a father, and I’m busy running around after this one.” You glance to Sherlock, who’s now teaching the Dewy-decimal system or something to another detective. “He is a handful and a half!”

Uncle Greg raises his eyebrows so far up, you wonder if they’ll disappear into his receding hairline. “Understatement of the year, _________, I’m telling you,” he laughs, “no, I thought, you’d get right on like a house on fire, I knew you’d be good together.”

You pause at that. “We’re not…just because we live together and work together and I complain a lot about him and a lot about his brother together doesn’t mean I like him.” You say, crossing your arms. “We’re just…Uncle Greg, honestly? Was this a matchmake from the beginning?”

He shakes his head, holding his hands out. “No, no! I just – I know Mrs. Hudson, and I knew there was a spare room –,”

Sherlock approaches, collar flicked up, cheekbones looking like they were made of cut glass, “What’s going on?”

You punch your uncle’s arm lightly, and tug on Sherlock’s sleeve. “Nothing, we’re leaving. I don’t want to pay for takeout when there’s perfectly good leftovers in the fridge.”

---

Once back at 221B Baker street, you’re thinking of the two thousand six hundred words you could be writing, rather than forcing Sherlock to eat around the clock, and with him at the little dining table, pushing around yesterday’s peas on a plate, you sigh. This story keeps evading you, and slowly, you place your head in your hands, and groan.

“Don’t tell me what’s wrong,” Sherlock states, a pea speared upon his fork, “let me deduce.” You keep your head in your hands, but not protesting, he goes on. “You’ve been on edge about your writing for as long as I can remember, but it isn’t that…it happened recently, so it isn’t something my brother said.” You glance through your fingers, and see him. He’s got his thinking face on, fingers poised under his chin, “Not two hours ago you spoke to your uncle.”

You’re silent as he goes on.

“You’re a headstrong person with a sense for humour and such, so it wasn’t humiliation in the conventional sense, no, he’s an uncle, not a cousin, so he’d naturally ask about the same topics that your parents would, and parents ask about more personal issues, not that I would notice from personal experience…” His eyes meet yours, and slowly his face grows red. “He thinks you’re in love with me.”

You chuckle at the wording. “Sounds more like an inflation of that ego of yours when you put it that way,” you don’t deny the fact. Yes, your uncle thinks you’re in love with Sherlock Holmes. That is a fact.

He quirks a brow. “No denial?”

You place your hands in your lap, and look at Sherlock in the eyes. “You’re right. I am an idiot…” you go to stand, but as you go to walk away, he catches your wrist in his hold, those thin fingers capturing you. “Sherlock –,”

He shakes his head, voice no more than a whisper, “No, I’m the idiot, for not realising that the feelings were mutual,” he says.

You grin to yourself. “Looks like we’re a pair of idiots in love or something.”

Perhaps writing down something fictional when you lived a life alongside Sherlock Holmes would never work. Besides, it was more interesting anyways.

#Sherlock Holmes #Sherlock #bbc sherlock #bbc sherlock fanfic #sherlock x reader #Sherlock Holmes x Reader #sherlock holmes/reader #chaotic--lovely #pendragonfics #Female reader

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iceamericanoventi · 6 years

Text

Blank Space - Chapter 10

Part 9

———————

“Must you go now?”

Kim Gwiboon looks like an upset puppy, messed up hair, flushed cheeks while wearing his old t-shirt with nothing underneath is actually his favorite view in the morning.

“Well, not now exactly.. I need to go back home, take a shower, take my laptop, maybe grab something from nearby coffee shop and meet my professor.”

“Not only your house that has a bathroom, you know? You can take a shower here, I still have your t-shirts.”

Jinki raised his eyebrows in question, this kind of scene is an impossible picture if they look back to one month ago. What kind of meteor fell down the earth spreading its radiation to mae her behaves this clingy?

“Let me tell you something. This is what’d happened if I take a shower here. I went inside, two minutes later you’d sneak in. That’d make ten minutes shower turned into one hour. And we would take our time to dry each other, that’s another hour. Don’t forget that I still need to drive home to pick my laptop. But before I reached that door over there,” Jinki pointed behind his back, “You’d say it’s cold and want a quick cuddle then poof. It’s twelve already and I lost my appointment with my super busy professor.”

Gwiboon can only kick the blanket for everything he just said is exactly like she planned inside her head. She pressed herself to his side, restraining him getting off the bed. Jinki’s heart softens after seeing how sulky she is.

He pecked her quickly and reached his t-shirt on the floor blindly.

“Don’t worry, I will be back later.”

“If I give you another round of last night, will you stay?”

“Hmmm. That is actually very tempting, but I am more tempted with a diploma in my hand, Babe.”

“Lee Jinki, everyone,” she propped herself with her elbow hovering Jinki, peppering every inches of his face with butterfly kisses, “You surpassed everyone I’ve ever met.”

When he finally able to put his t-shirt on, he cupped her cheeks and threw the question he’s been dying to ask since the first minute he opened his eyes and found out Gwiboon being a lady sloth.

“Seriously. What has gotten into you?”

“You.”

“What?”

“I said, you.”

“Kim Gwiboon, I asked what has gotten into you.”

“And I answered, you.”

“Well, I’m not talking specifically about last night, though. But I got it.”

Gwiboon could only roll her eyes when he winked suggestively, “How can you be pervert and still charming at the same time, I actually have no idea.”

“That’s the secret of Lee Jinki’s life. Stay around a little bit and you’ll know how. And even more.”

“Why should I stay around if you’re leaving like this?”

“For God’s sake, it’s not like I go half the world away. What’s wrong with you this morning?”

Her face frozen hearing the words came so easily from his mouth. Though Jinki doesn’t know what the reason behind her bitter expression is, he felt guilty anyway. He slipped his hand to her back and closes the gap for a lazy kiss, the kind of kiss he always left her whenever they parted ways.

“Take a long and warm shower. Grab some croissant or sandwich, your preference, and I’ll see you again soon. It won’t be long. If you want, you can wait in my building.”

“And getting this strange look from the other student? Better yet, some whispering behind my back? Forget it,” Gwiboon released herself from his warm embrace, “Once you step out that door, you’re done.”

“Even if I got us dinner reservation?”

“That’s exactly why I wanted you to stay. I’ve already had a date for later.”

“It’s not even 24 hours since I failed to keep my promise. I almost forgot that you’re Kim Gwiboon after the clingy moment just now.”

“I told you since the very beginning, right? I don’t chase.”

He grabbed his jacket suit and hugged her from the back, locking his eyes to her reflection on the mirror of her vanity.

“And who’s the lucky guy, if I may know?”

“Only someone from the past. The one that got away.”

“If he’s better than me, what can I say, then,” he buried his face where her neck meets her shoulder, “Is he?”

“At some point?”

“So I still have something I can win you over?”

“Of course.. Another thing you should know about me, I never lower my standard. It’s getting better and better all the time.”

“That’s why I like you. What’s my bad then?”

“You said you have important appointment you don’t even want to take shower here, have you not heard yourself?”

“I can spend more twenty minutes to make sure that no one can overpass me.”

“Look who’s the ambitious one. You really want me to list down your flaws?”

“Let us call those constructive critics.”

“First, you are shorter.”

“You don’t even think for a second.”

“That is obvious. If you stand side by side with him, even a toddler can say that you’re shorter.”

“Height is not something that I can control anyway. You see yourself Taemin is as tall as me. It’s not something that I can change.”

“Too much excuses before breakfast is a no no. Ah, more important thing. He’s always there to drop me everywhere.”

“Is he a driver? Does he even have life?”

“That’s what you called priority. He put me on the top list. Also, he has abs, bigger eyes, way more athletic than you.”

“Should I start hitting the gym?”

“I’ll burn your car if you do. Once you start working out like him, you’d overdo your thighs. Now is perfect. Besides, I don’t want you to lose the side fat on your tummy.”

“You do have a lot to please.”

“It just came naturally.. I always set the bar higher than anyone.”

“Now tell me why you’re not with him anymore when based on my rough calculation, he got higher grade?”

“Simple, he left me for some random girl,” she pecked his lips quickly, “See the pattern here? I don’t like being left behind..”

Jinki didn’t say anything. He just pressed her chest closer to him and tracing her jaw bit by bit, and gave her a deep kiss at the end.

“How can I leave someone like you when every single time I woke up in the morning I’m the one who’s afraid you’ve changed your mind and realized spending time with me is a mistake?”

She frowns immediately, doesn’t even care if it’s showing too much her feeling. He tucked her hair behind her ears to see her face better, “But as far I know, Minho you’ve dated before, is what people called a hybrid of Greek God and Avenger.”

“Woman 101, Lee Jinki. Any girl in the world prefers reality than some myth.”

“I think I skip that lesson the first year of college.”

“Yeah, first year of college you had been dating that hipster girl who happened to have watermelon dangling on her chest.”

“If I know you’re this good with research, I will push you to the heritage office in my department. They need more people for the historical city revitalization.”

She slapped his chest and peeled herself from him.

“Go away, you idiot. You can just say you don’t like me.”

“If we meet again for the first time, even in the next life, I think there’s no chance I would say I don’t like you. No matter how, even if our path doesn’t even cross to each other.”

“Cut the crap out,” Gwiboon try to hide the tears started to well up her eyes, “Talk to me again when you already became a very successful architect. I don’t deal with amateur. Now give me my last kiss and off you go!”

“I said, I can have extra twenty minutes here, right? Are you up for a quick one?”

Gwiboon turned her heels with such intriguing words. The moment she caught his hooded eyes getting excited and shameful at the same time, she pushed her oversize t-shirt above her head, some hair strand fell off her loose messy bun. Jinki doesn’t need to ask twice.

***

“Choi Minho’s speaking!”

“What was that?”

“Was what?”

“The greeting? Since when you picked your phone with some James Bond attitude?”

“I don’t know what are you talking about but I’ve been like this since a very long time ago, you ignorant girl.”

“Don’t make me peed my pants. The other day when we talked you didn’t sound so pretentious like this.”

“The other day, and the day before, and the weeks before, I’ve been the one who called you and not vice versa because you’re too busy with your prince charming you decide to ditch your best friend. Thank you very much.”

“Aw, my ex-boyfriend is jealous.. that’s so cute. I didn’t ditch you! Besides, Prince Charming only exists in Disney movie, Mango.”

Scoff and grunt came from the other line, “Stop calling me Mango! Last week my junior suddenly gave me pack of peeled and neatly cut mango because she thought I’m a major fan of the fruit.”

“SHE?!”

“That’s the only thing you care? Really?”

Gwiboon laughs with her whole body, with Minho, everything’s easy and just flowing like that. Drop of pain tainted her chest for a split of second when the thought of having more distance with him soon across her mind.

“It’s just because it’s been so long I haven’t heard about you dating or having a crush, of course that’s the only thing I care about. So. Does she look cute?”

“She does look cute so stop embarrassing me with the stupid nickname. Now, what’s your problem disturbing my peaceful life?”

“Wow. Just because she’s cute now you’re being mean to me? Unbelievable.”

“As if you’re not the one who’s been missing in action after all.”

“I have a show to prepare, you giant frog!”

“Show my ass, nothing about the show stored inside the Lee’s resident yet you’re there almost a week. Who’s the unbelievable now?”

She can totally see the smirk on his spiteful face right now, “Remind me to send a grenade to Lee Taemin later.”

Another cracks blew from Minho’s end, “No, seriously. What do you need?”

“You’re not going to ask how am I doing these days?”

“I know already. You’re stressed, but happy. Then anxious, but happy. And also depressed, but happy. Thanks to Mr. Architect who apparently makes every single night bearable with the steamy, wonderf—“

“Stop talking about my love life!”

“Oooo, it’s a love life already?”

“You and your big mouth can rot in hell!”

“I’m just stating the fact. Why you’re mad at me?”

“Whatever. What time are you going to be here?”

“The Prince Charming is gone? Why do I feel like I’m a mistress?”

“My friend, we need to get you laid. You’re talking non sense.”

“Just because you can get laid so easily and had fun because of that, doesn’t mean it’s the only solution in everyday life, honey.”

“You know that hurts, right?”

Minho didn’t say anything for solid two minutes. He put the phone on the top of his chest and punched his thigh for slipping some irrational jokes that she hates the most.

“I’m sorry, I wasn’t being sensitive. I’m truly sorry, Kim Gwiboon.”

“No need. I think this is just the way universe talked to me, you know this stupid karmic shit people talked about.”

“No, no, no, it’s not, honey. You’re a great person. You just tried to protect yourself. Forget it. I was just in a very cranky mood and I think my subconscious just wanted other people as annoyed as I am.”

“At this point, I don’t give a damn, if my life’s meant to be ruined so let it be. It’s not like we can do shit about that. Anyway. Talking about how horrendous my life is actually is not why I called you at the first place.”

“Still. I’m so sorry, Gwiboon.”

“No big deal. Compare to what’s in my back right now, really, piece of cake.”

“So, tell me.”

“What time you can come over?”

“You’re still doing it?”

“Well, gotta start with something.”

“That something is supposed to tell Jinki how you feel. Or tell Jonghyun you’re leaving. Not just throwing your stuff outside the window.”

“It’s not outside the window, it will be packed nicely and you’ll be here helping me to sort which I need and which I don’t. So, see you in an hour? Don’t forget to bring me the empty boxes and ten inch subway sandwich.”

***

“Yo! Lovebirds!”

Jinki tilted his head to the source of loud voice and he saw Minho bounced from the glass door swung closed behind him to the counter.

“I think Taemin rub him off that bad,” Jinki then quietly sipping his coffee. In his surprise though, Gwiboon didn’t roll her eyes and snarled some light curse as usual whenever Minho bumped into their way. Instead, she waved to him, signaling the tall guy to come closer which is another surprise for Jinki. The other day Gwiboon would shoo him away even before he got a chance to notice them in the crowd.

“What are you doing here?”

“Err.. getting my coffee?”

Jinki’s eyes darted back and forth between the two who’re flaunting awkwardness more than necessary.

“Join us if you have time,” Jinki just being his friendly self, doesn’t even bothered with the fact that he’s Gwiboon’s ex-boyfriend, which is kind of upsetting the girl sitting in front of him.

“Nah. I need to catch some lecture in..,” he glanced his watch, “… thirty minutes. Besides, being the third person without stripping all this clothing article is not my preference.”

Minho winked by the end and Jinki took the joke very well, cracking on the spot, not yet realized that there’s another person in the loop who doesn’t enjoy it a bit.

“Jinki said you’ve been hanging around with Taemin too much.”

“That’s probably true. I started losing my stuffs as well.”

“Apologize on behalf my brother. Such a bad influence.”

“You shouldn’t. his fans nowadays also flattering me with abundant affections so, it’s a mutualism I think.”

The more Jinki and Minho absorbed into exciting conversation, the more Gwiboon sitting restless on her seat. She kept giving him a signal with he whole face but the charm of Lee Jinki is too strong for anyone to just ignore him. Sometimes Gwiboon wished, Jinki returned to his jealousy rage state like when she had Jinwoon entailed her every step she took. That would make everything easier.

“That’s what I’m saying! Anyway, catch you guys later. Gotta rush to the campus. Nice to talk with you, Jinki! We should hang around more! Oh, and, Gwi. Let me know if you still need a hand to pack your stuffs. I think I also have some unused box, just in case you may need it.”

Her face slightly lit more, “Great. I don’t think I need more boxes, just a hand to carry the whole things down.”

“Alright, then. Text me anytime. Later, Lovebirds!”

Minho finished his coffee in one gulp and dashed away less than thirty seconds. Gwiboon played innocent and continue enjoying her cheesecake, pretty much aware a pair of eyes shooting her strong wave of confusion.

“You’re packing something?”

“Just my stuffs.”

“Your stuffs?”

“Yeah, my stuffs.. like books, clothes, mannequins, shoes..”

“I didn’t know you do some charity.”

“I don’t. I’m only moving out the dorm.”

“Only moving out the dorm?”

He stressed the word ‘only’ hoping the girl who looks uninterested with the talk care to explain further what is actually going on.

“Well, yeah, I decided to go back home. Since you know, me and Jonghyun kind of back to the square one and restart everything.”

“And out of all this you find it unnecessary to tell me?”

She stopped stuffing the dessert into her mouth and take Jinki’s hand in her. Gwiboon played with his stiffen knuckles, a gesture started grew in her whenever she get nervous around him, which Jinki failed to notice.

“Because it’s not a big deal. It’s only the matter where I sleep at night.”

“And regarding the place where you sleep at night you’re obligated to tell Minho in advance?”

She can feel her heart trembles, “Wow. Is the famous Lee Jinki jealous?”

“It’s not the time to kid around, Kim Gwiboon,” he pulled his hand rather too quick, didn’t give a chance for Gwiboon to even fall into surprise, “You mend your relationship to Jonghyun. You share everything with Minho. What am I then? An outcast?”

“You know what are we.. We agreed to take everything lightly. To go with the flow. Don’t you hate something like putting a label?”

“Oh, for God’s sake. We’re done using that as an excuse, I’m just asking you here why you think I don’t need to know that you’re coming back home. After those countless night I tried to convince you to talk everything out with your brother instead running away from it?”

“Why you’re so mad about this? Can we take this one lightly as well? We pranked each other before, right? This time isn’t anything different from that, is it? You go there with restrained groin trying to find your release and then surprise! I’m not there! Isn’t it fun? Too bad that toad-face blew up my whole plan.”

Jinki’s jaw sharpened after the words passed through his ear. He tried to compose himself in such short time since he’s pretty aware with their surroundings, lots of couple and a mother with a toddler is right behind their table.

“So you said me coming after you, me always trying to stand by your side, listening to you, comforting you is a kind of a joke?”

“Come on Jinki. Where’s the fun? Why so serious?”

Gwiboon drew her best effort to look as casual as possible. No one beside herself understands how storm and thunder currently occupied her vines every other second. By the look plastered on Jinki’s face, she knew that she pulled the last string of him for today.

“Are you still mad at me for not attending your show?”

“What are you saying? I’m not five, Jinki. I am so used to disappointment.”

“Then why you’re being immature like this?”

“Excuse you? Me being immature would be refuse to see you forever right after I failed to find you on your assigned seat that night. Me being immature would be yelling at your face and making fuss about the whole you-promised-me-already-you-are-really-disappointing. Wouldn’t I?”

Nothing can seem soften Jinki’s face at this point. Not even when Gwiboon rest her hand above his, he felt his fist clenched tighter. However, Gwiboon has no intention to unwrap herself even though she’s completely conscious of that.

She sighed when Jinki’s eyes wander around the room but not her. He can’t help but gulp down when she took his hand and settle it on her cheek, holding it with both of her hands as if it’s a very delicate creature.

“Jinki,” he didn’t budge at all, so she soften her voice, “Hey, Jinki.. look at me.”

The moment he landed his eyes on hers, the restless feeling boiled under Gwiboon’s skin. That expression, is something she never seen coming from Jinki.

“Kim Gwiboon.”

She slowly retreads her hands when she noticed Jinki caressing her cheek with his own will. She puffed the bangs fell of his forehead and swiped it to the side to show her more of his eyes.

“Sorry I said you’re immature. But if this is your way getting back to me for not telling you stuff, then we can talk about it. Not without such a juvenile way like this.”

“Are you saying you’re hiding something for me?”

Silent squeak roamed inside Jinki’s throat. He hates the fact he can be so clumsy and careless sometimes.

“I’m just thinking maybe you think I’m hiding something for you, so that’s why you’re being like this to me.”

Jinki realized he said something non sense, but it was his last resource not to make everything’s messier.

“I see. You’re hiding something from me.”

“What?”

“You think I’m the type who holding grudge? What about you who can’t be honest with me?”

“Why are you being like this? Is this your way? Turning everything against people around you when the main issue is you? When are you going to grow up?!”

The couple on the next table tilted their head not so secretly, interested with their quarrel after JInki raised his voice.

“Stop it. Last time we screamed at each other in public we ended up not talking for weeks.”

“Then let’s go. We have hundreds to talk about.”

He collected his jacket and ready to move. On the other side of the table, Gwiboon’s not having it and didn’t shift any bit. She shot her head up when stern gaze drilling her side of skull.

“Why? I’m not finish. Can’t you see?”

She lifted the halfway cake on the plate near her cup innocently.

“Don’t test me, Kim Gwiboon.”

“I don’t. You can leave first if you want. I’ll catch you up after I’m done.”

The fact that they came to the place together with Jinki’s car is making him questioning her thoughtless words, “Are you kidding me? It’s drizzling madly outside. How can I leave you alone here?”

“I ramble around by myself before you. You shouldn’t worry a thing.”

His pride’s torn into pieces after hearing it. Without further ado, he turned his heels and marched toward the entrance.

Gwiboon closed her eyes with such measure not to spill brimming tears. She reached out her phone and went down the contact list to find the name she needs.

“Hey, Mango. He left.”

“When?”

“Just now.”

“Are you okay?”

“Of course not. By the way. Thank you for keeping your promise to mention about the moving day even if you hate it so much. So. Meet me at my house?”

***

Here you go! I just did a very quick check so hopefully it's not a mess. Also, I hate to tell you this, but seeing this already this far, I think it's safe for me to say, this beloved story will only have three more chapters! I'm happy and also sad because I really like writing this one. Thanks for all your support! Means a lot! As usual, I wish you all the happiness in the world! XOXO

cross-posted to my AFF

Part 11

#onkey scenario #onkey fiction #onkey fanfic #shinee scenario #shinee fanfic #shinee fiction #shinee #onkey #jinkibum #jinboon #onew #key #jinki #kibum #gwiboon

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ayehatethis · 6 years

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Graduation

@horanstemporaryfix

This is your graduation surprise. I think I started writing this back in September and we talked about how Niall would want to throw you a big thing and you didn’t want that and since all of my stories come from our conversations, this became a thing. I know I already sent you a bunch of stuff, but yeah. HAPPY GRADUATION!

All you wanted to do was finish your last paper and the presentation that you were supposed to give with it, but your boyfriend would not let up. He wanted to throw you a party to celebrate you graduating from college. He was ecstatically happy and more proud of you than you could even imagine. He had left school early to start his career and never got the chance to finish or even think about college and it impressed him that you were about to graduate from it.

“Niall, just let me finish this, okay? We’ll talk later about the party. I don’t even want a party. Just let me get through graduation and we can just go to dinner or something.”

He frowns and puts his hands on your shoulders. You’re sitting at the kitchen counter typing away at your laptop and you know he’s not going to let this go. He’s insistent on a big celebration for you, but you’ve been protesting since the beginning of the semester and he just doesn’t get it.

“Petal, I just love ya and I want to celebrate how smart you are, and I wanna show off how amazing my girl is.”

He leans in and kisses your neck, under your ear. He knows where on your body to touch and kiss at this point to get what he wants. You shrug him away and go back to your typing.

“I’ve got 3 days to finish this project and if I don’t, I can’t graduate so if I promise to talk about a party will you let me work?”

He smiles and says “okay, but you have stop working for a little to eat some lunch. I know how you get when you’re working.”

You’re so frustrated with this conversation but you know he means well, “Fine, but you have to listen to what I want for this party and all I want is some cereal. Don’t overfill me or I’ll be too sick to work.”

“Deal” Niall says and heads out of the room to let you work in peace. Finally.

—

Three days later you have finished your project, given your presentation and had a few free days before graduation. You figured you’d let your boyfriend finally plan his party for you.

You walked into his office, leaning on the doorframe watching him work for a few minutes before he finally says something to you.

“You gonna come in or are ya gonna just watch me for a while longer?”

“I just like to watch you.” You smirk, leaning up from the doorframe and making your way towards his desk. When you reach him he pulls you into his lap and wraps his arms around your waist. “I missed you, Pet.” He says burying his face in your neck.

You wrap your arms around him and bring his face close to yours to kiss him. “Maybe I missed you too.” You lean your head against his. “I thought we could talk about this ridiculous party you want to throw me.”

His face lights up at your suggestion and he swirls the chair around so you can both see the computer screen. “I put together some ideas for it and made a little presentation of my own,” he says completely enthralled with this idea. He starts rambling about all of his ideas and for someone who is as good at business as he is, he’s really going nuts with this.

“I thought we could do it here in LA cause it’s warm and we could have an afternoon turns into evening barbecue and everyone could bring swimsuits and we’ll hire a DJ and a caterer and-“

“Niall!” You cut him off.

“What’s wrong?” He looks at you concerned, running his hands up and down your back.

You start to fiddle with your hands in your lap and stare down at them. You love him so much and don’t want to hurt his feelings, but you don’t want any of that.

“Don’t be upset, I know you worked hard to work all this out and find all these people, but I don’t...really...want any of that. Is that okay?” You look up at him with tears starting to form in your eyes. He looks back at you with more concern in his eyes than anger and that makes you cry even more. He wipes the tears falling from your face away, asking you, “Well you promised I could do something for ya, what do you want instead?”

You shrug your shoulders and look back to him, “I dunno. Something more low key. Just a few people, a small dinner party, just the stereo playing a few of my favorite cds in the background. Maybe my favorite meal that we could make together. No swimming, maybe board games after dinner.”

He looks at you and sighs. He knows you’re right. You hated over the top things.

“What’s your max amount of people?” Niall asks you, rubbing his hand up and down your back.

“Maybe like ten including us?” You shrug your shoulders at him before listing off the names of your friends and family you’d like to be here, but not all of them live close. Niall helps you pick out a menu, as long as you promised not to dump it on his head if he accidentally went overboard on your gift that you insist he not buy you. But Niall is persistent he spoil you, just a little. You finally settle on a guest list and tell Niall just to send an email, and to NOT order those expensive invitations on Shutterfly.

Hello friends, My incredibly talented girlfriend is graduating college this week. We have planned a small get together and we want you to be there. This Saturday afternoon at 4 you can come by our house, dressed casually for a low key celebration for her. She does not want gifts but just to spend the evening with you.

Love, Niall

After you proof the email and guest list, he clicks send.

—-

On the day of graduation you were so relieved to have finally finished. You had worked so hard over the past four years that this almost felt surreal. So much has happened including meeting your incredibly supportive boyfriend.

Speaking of whom, was eager to drive you to the ceremony and tried to take what felt like a million pictures of you beforehand.

The ceremony went on forever, or so you felt. All you wanted to do was get your diploma and go back home. Niall had arranged your party for tomorrow afternoon and the two of you had gone shopping the day before in preparation. You planned on getting home and relaxing before waking up tomorrow to finish cleaning and cooking dinner just in time for your guests to arrive.

After the ceremony finally ended you found Niall hiding in a corner of the auditorium trying to look inconspicuous. He had his face hidden in a program, but you’d be able to pick him out anywhere.

“Ready?”

“Pet, I’m so proud of you!” He gushes pulling you into a tight hug.

“I know, you’ve said it a million times this week.”

“Doesn’t make it less true.” He grabs his phone trying to snap a few more pictures of you in your cap and gown. “Let me get a picture of you with your diploma, darlin’, I promised your mom I’d send her one since she couldn’t make it.”

You groan about how ridiculous this was, but smile anyway. You had wanted your mom to come out to LA to visit, but something had come up and she promised to make it out another time. But you and Niall had planned to go visit for the holidays anyway so at least you’d still see her soon.

You let Niall finish his mini photo shoot and then make your way to the car. The ride home is short, but he keeps his hand on your thigh the whole time.

“I kinda like you in this dress,” he says.

“You’d say that about any dress I wear.”

“Well, you don’t wear em that often so yeah I like seeing your pretty legs.”

You blush and place your hand on his. Your boyfriend is constantly trying to get you out of your comfort zone. He always makes sure to tell you he likes best what you’re insecure about, hoping one day you’ll see what he sees.

__ The next day, you had slept in, which was unusual for you, but after all of the hard work you had been putting in lately, it was long overdue. After your shower and getting dressed, another simple black dress that Niall insisted you wear, you went downstairs to help set up for the party.

Your boyfriend was already in the kitchen getting ingredients together. He was wearing a plain white Henley and a pair of dark dress pants. He had put on a red and white polka dot apron, complete with red frills. You giggle at him and walk outside to the garage and grab some of the other things you had left in the garage refrigerator and head back inside.

He walks over to you with a second apron, “I don’t want you getting anything on that pretty little dress of yours.” He says kissing you and then tying the apron around your waist and around your neck.

“Thank you, babe.”

Niall pulls out a few boxes of spaghetti and the jars of sauce, while you open the packs of meat and start mixing the meatball mix together. Adding breadcrumbs, eggs, parsley, and a hint of salt and onions.

Niall turns the stove on and starts boiling the water before coming over to help you roll the meatballs. You get out a frying pan and cook them in olive oil.

When you finally finish cooking dinner your guests start to arrive.

Niall had flown in three of your friends from home. His roommate Mully, his bandmate and close friend Louis, and a few of his employees you had grown close with rounded out the list.

You had made a playlist of your favorite songs and Niall had it playing in the background when everyone arrived. Your best friend helped you set the dining room table for dinner while Niall entertained everyone.

When everything was ready, you walked over to Niall, placing your hand on his back. He looks over at you, “ready?”

“Yep.” You reply, and he calls everyone to join in the dining room.

Everyone takes their seats and Niall pours everyone a glass of wine. You don’t really like it but he insisted on you having at least one glass to celebrate. Plus he got one with a sweet flavor he swears you’ll like.

Standing up, Niall raises his glass and everyone sits quietly looking to him.

“Hi everyone, thank you for coming. I just want to raise a toast to my lovely girlfriend, Jamie. I can’t say enough how amazing and talented you are and how proud of you I am. You’ve worked so hard and you’ve had such a strong determination to go after your dream and I am so lucky you let me into your life and I just want to tell you, congratulations and I love you.” He leans down and kisses you before everyone clinks their glasses and a chorus of “congratulations” comes from your guests.

“Thank you, Niall. You’ve been so supportive and I know this last semester was terrible, especially with all those rewrites, and most days I just wanted to throw my laptop and cry, but I can’t thank you, and everyone really, enough for your constant support. I am so glad to be done, though.”

There’s a collective laugh, and then the food starts getting passed around and eaten.

—-

Later that night after everyone has left, you are finally able to take this silly dress off and change into comfy clothes. You’re about to yell for Niall to come in and help with your zipper, when he comes strolling into the bedroom still in his dress pants and shirt. His sleeves are rolled up, and his goofy socks on his feet.

“Hey, I never gave you your gift.” He says pulling you close to him.

“You didn’t have to get me anything. You did all this for me today.” You say lightly brushing his arm.

“I wanted to, you know that.”

“Help me out of this dress first,” you say turning your back to him.

He pulls on your hand till you face him again, “No, this first.” He usually isn’t firm with you, so it starts to make you worry. You look at his face and he’s completely serious and you don’t know what to think. What happened to your happy go lucky boyfriend of a few minutes ago?

“Now, before you go over analyzing this, I love you. I’ve never done this before and I’m honestly a bit terrified, so this is gonna be short. I love you so much and I can’t imagine my life without you. I know we can both be stubborn at times and we both have crazy families and lives but none of this means anything without you.”

He kisses you quickly before getting down on his knee.

“Will you be my wife?” He asks, tears forming in his eyes as he pulls out a small box from his pocket.

You nod your head as tears fall down your face. “Get up before you hurt your knee.” You pull him to his feet and he pulls you to him kissing you with much more force this time.

He pulls back saying, “wait, you never actually said yes.”

“Of course yes, Niall!” You say while he slides the ring on your finger.

“Let’s get into comfier clothes and go cuddle on the couch to celebrate.”

He quickly changes out of his clothes and into a pair of athletic shorts, leaving his top half bare, knowing how much you like to cuddle and play with his chest hair. He unzips your dress for you before helping you out of it.

“You finish getting changed and I’ll go get us some ice cream and hot cocoa ready.”

You put on some sleep shorts and a tank top and head downstairs to the living room where your fiancé is getting set up.

You sit against him and start eating your ice cream, taking breaks to sip your cocoa.

"Should we just search romantic comedies on Netflix and then see what we find?"

“Perfect.” —-

Hours later you’ve both fallen asleep, Niall leaning against the back of the couch, feet propped up on the ottoman. You nuzzled into his chest, legs tangled with his.

——

End

#MY writing #graduation #niall fic #niall horan #you get extra brownie points if you catch the references to the other four boys #yes I included zayn

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izzym-art · 7 years

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how did you and kawereen knew each other? :)

HOOOOOOO BOY. @kawereen be prepared for some cringey, nostalgic, KPOP filled memories of us!! XD

Continue under the cut because obviously this is gonna be a LONG story.

Kawereen and I were classmates during University for our diploma in 2009. But we hardly knew each other during our first year, being in different hostels and different friend groups. We only knew each other as acquaintances. But I noticed her, though. She didn’t notice me. She was never good with remembering faces. XD

Then during the first semester of our second year, somehow we started to notice each other. Kawereen once said she started noticing me by lurking behind me to secretly watch the videos of KPop group Super Junior that I was playing on my laptop. You creeper (I was a massive KPop fangirl at the time. 2009-2010 was such a huge year for KPop.) I was also friends with her housemate, and we’re in the same TaeKwonDo club at the time. We talked about KPop and TKD a lot. So that kinda brought us closer, a bit.

The next semester was rough, but kinda made me realize how much she means to me. We teamed up for a 2 person final semester project to create a corporate design for an Aviation company from scratch. The first few weeks was great, but things went downhill after that in terms of our project’s progress.

The lecturer was the devil sent from hell, we swear. He was the first ever to trigger my suicidal intentions.

Our mockup airplane model was rejected for being ‘too small’, and being broke students with hardly any money after wasting them on print jobs and stickers that ended up being disapproved, we were freaking furious. We both stormed out of his office, my hands gripping the airplane almost breaking it in two. The rest of our classmates called us to ask how our session went, but we were too angry to even look at them, and straightaway they knew what’s up, so they let us be.

(The next paragraph contains a description of my suicide ‘attempt’. Proceed at your own risk.)

I didn’t even look at Kawereen when we broke apart to head for our respected dorm/house. As soon as I reach my room, I spread out paracetamol onto my desk. Enough for OD. I was bawling hard, and ready to swallow them, ready to end everything.

But then I thought, ‘if I die now, kawereen would be finishing the project alone. I can’t do that to her. It’s stress enough for the both of us, even with equally splitted workload, what more for her, alone?’

That thought brought me back, and I cancelled my ‘attempt’. I popped two tablets of PCM and went to sleep.

Then things were not that bad, but not too great either, thanks to that lecturer. We passed our second year, of course. We still hate that lecturer with a passion, till this day. Any mention of his name and we both cringe with anger and disgust. = =*

Ever since then, we kinda stick with each other. I keep visiting her at her rented house and bug her to death, asking her to come out to get some grub or just a stroll out in the city. She kept denying me. It was tough to get to know her on a personal level! It’s like I was courting her LOL XD

Throughout the final year, whenever there is a group project, you can bet we’d be in the same group. Unless assigned. We graduated, and promised each other to continue our studies in Bachelor in Animation in the next semester.

And we did. We enroll together, went to the interview together, got into class together, stayed in a hostel, in the same dormitory together. Our Bachelor friends definitely knew we were very close friends from the start, judging on how we were together every single time they see us, grabbing food or buying groceries or even went out to the mall and the movies. Up to a point whenever I was sick and had to skip out class, kawereen would show up to class by herself and our friends would ask ‘where’s Saera? You two were always inseparable.’ And they would always pick on kawereen whenever I skip class or not around XD don’t even get me started on group projects. Unless assigned by lecturers, we’d team up for sure. No matter if it’s two-person, three-person or multiple person.

We even got into the same intership company. We worked on our final year project together, alongside another precious friend of ours, one of the very few people that wants to hangout with us. We graduated together, we find jobs together (and change jobs together pfft), we bought her first PS4 together, experience DA:I together, loved the game together and now we’re working on commissions together.

It’s a blessing, really, to have a best friend, a family friend, a soulmate that knows me inside out, comforting me throughout my depression and suicidal thoughts. Not even my family knew me as deeply as kawereen did and I cherish her so damn much. I dare say, if it wasn’t for her, I won’t be alive right now typing these. We’ve known each other for almost 7 years, and I’m sure we’ll still be best buds till our dying breath.

(I’m Joey, and kawereen is Chandler here. She doesn’t know how to handle sappy, emotional stuffs like these lol)

So there you have it! How kawereen and I knew each other. Our adventures together is a lot more than what I’ve typed here, but I’ll leave that for some other time.

Thank you so much for this ask, nonnie!!

#Saera replies #nonnie #kawereen #this was a great ask #i was excited to answer it

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simz-k-blog · 4 years

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Leadership Blog: Week #5

In the past week, I was able to apply myself and my leadership strengths to help a friend very close to me. We have been best friends since the 8th grade and in the past few years he has been facing a recurring problem that he has been avoiding. His problem being, he is not in school because he does not know which career he wants to pursue. He previously went to college for a Marketing Degree and performed very poorly in his classes because his interest was just not there. He dropped out. This was in 2017 and since then he has not gone back to school. Lately, he has been trying to get back into school as his parents keep bothering him about it, but he’s still confused about which career path he wants to pursue. He does not want to waste his money and increase his OSAP loan by going into the wrong program and dropping out again. My friend has issues with commitment and makes decisions based on what his parents want for him. He reached out to my friends and I, in the past week. I told him to come over one evening so we could talk about the matter one on one and explore his options.

I talked to him for hours and told him that his parents do not know what is best for him and only he can make this decision. We sat together on my laptop searching through many different programs that he could potentially be interested in. We looked at different workplace conditions, salaries, hours and program types. After knowing and studying my friend for years, I suggested that he consider a 2-year diploma in something that he could see himself doing. I suggested a 2-year diploma rather than a 4-year degree (that his parents want him to pursue), because I know he lacks commitment and gets disinterested in things very easily. I used my college experience, as I am close to completing a 3-year Marketing Advanced Diploma. I explained to him how fast the semester goes by each term, and how this fast-paced environment does not allow you to be disinterested, as you are actively engaged each week in a new lesson with new deadlines. This did not happen over the span of a day, we met up 4 or 5 times in the past week. Near the end, I was able to help him narrow down his top 5 program choices. He is now looking to apply for the Fall semester of 2020. His parents are rushing him to go back to school in May of 2020, but him and I both know that with his lack of commitment, he is likely to get distracted in the summertime, with his job and social plans. Going to school in the Summer requires more dedication and focus than in the Fall/Winter.

What I learned from this experience was, sometimes in order to help someone make a decision, you do not have to be a qualified guidance counselor working at an education institution. You can simply be a friend, who knows someone very well and knows their capabilities. My friend is very intelligent and down to earth. His parents put a lot of pressure on him thinking that will get him into school faster. Reality is, it's been 3 years since he dropped out and this is only making him avoid school even more. After studying him for years, I knew the only way to get through to him was to approach him with concern and care. If I too was harsh and pressured him to go back to school like his parents did, I know that he would have not been able to think of his top four program choices. I know if I did not invest that time into solving his problem, the cycle of him avoiding school would just carry on.

I cannot guarantee that he will go back to school in Fall 2020, but at least I know that I was able to sit with him and influence his mind enough to pick 5 programs. Which for him in these past three years, has been a big step. This made me realize that as a leader I not only possess restorative problem-solving skills, but I will go to great lengths to help those who I care about. No matter how busy I was, I invested the entire week into helping my friend decide what he possibly wants to do with his future. It takes more than a week to decide what you want to do with your life, which is why I am continuing to check in on him until he sends his application. When I help someone like this, it makes me feel like I would be a great leader. I can address issues and take care of my team. I was able to make my friend consider my thoughts and concerns, which motivated him to make change and do something about it.

#Realfriends howmanyofus careerchoices leadership womeninleadership

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remembermemorablememories · 5 years

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Saturday, February 16, 2019

post #404

ha ha 404

main points:

- wake up early to go to philly with mom and sheena

- visit grandparents

- walk around center city with mom

- honeygrow lunch takeout with sheena

- drive back home and eat honeygrow / got my diploma (sort of)

- catch up on thursday/friday blog posts

- call with dimitri, cae, simon and sam

- visit alyssa in philly! dinner and hanging out/talking

- chilling at home / health update

today i:

- woke up at 8:30am to my alarm. dad came in to wake me up and also asked about the lease since it was coming today. we got to the topic of how much i withdrew for checks and he said the broker fee was insanely high... :/ and he was right cause 15% of annual rent is a lot. but i had no other option cause it seems like most landlords work exclusively through brokers now. he lectured to me about spending money and how i should be careful. i felt bad, i hadn’t been lectured like that in a while like since high school. i know he was just trying to watch out/express concern for me though

- sheena mom and i hopped into the car so sheena could go to orchestra rehearsal. i ate half a bagel and a banana. sheena drove us to philly, mom talked to me a lot about her personal experiences searching for real estate / housing early on in her life. once we got there, sheena got dropped off to rehearsal, mom and i found parking and went to visit wai po and wai gong. i hadn’t seen them since christmas!! we got a parking spot that someone gave us with their remaining ticket time (like 30 minutes from 10:20am-10:52am)

we went up and i saw wai po and wai gong, it was really nice. i talked to wai po a bit about my asia trip plans. then wai gong sat me down and talked to me about health and taking care of myself :p and also wanted me to learn chinese (which i’ve sort of been doing trying to watch the chinese tv show). we brought them the poster sized version of the photo we took with our whole family in california which was very nice, they were both excited to put it up on the wall

- mom and i left around 10:50am to go back to our car, and we said good bye :( i’ll see them in a few months though hopefully in NYC. we parked it somewhere else close to sheena’s rehearsal place and then walked around center city. we walked by city hall and the surrounding block while mom took some pictures. while we walked around i was trying to figure out what to do for the day. in the morning i brought my laptop in case i decided to stay in philly for the day to hang out with alyssa later

cause either i could stay in philly for the day, have a call with friends about greece at 3pm then meet up with alyssa or

go home, have call with friends about greece, then drive back down to visit alyssa

- mom and i went to starbucks and she got a latte, then walked back to pick up sheena as she finished rehearsal at 12pm. then mom waited in the car while sheena and i went to get honeygrow takeout

just as we were walking over, marsha told me she got a notification from USPS that the lease wasn’t signed at delivery and needed to be picked up. dad also got the notification but was out at set building for sheena’s musical (i believe) so he may have missed it. but he rushed back and flagged down the USPS driver and got the lease from him, so we fortunately got that sorted all out :D

- i decided to go home so after we got the honeygrow salads, sheena ate hers on the car while mom drove us back home. once we got back around 1pm, i ate the salad. mom made some spicy noodle thing that she said was too spicy. the salad was pretty solid and felt really healthy. when i got back, dad got my diploma for my bachelor’s in the mail. he was unsure where my master’s was so i logged in online to check my student report. it said they were both ordered at the same time so maybe the master’s will come in later in the week

- chilled for a bit on my computer and also finished up thursday and started on friday’s blog posts. sheena went to therapy at 2pm with mom. dad was out at set building. but sheena got back around 2:45pm so she came to my room to play smash

dimitri cae simon sam and i hopped on a snapchat call to discuss tentative dates for greece. dimitri gave us the high level plan and also timeline (early september) depending on what cae and sam find out about grad school. it was nice hanging out with all of them on call again after a long long time :D sheena was playing smash in the background in my room LOL

- wrapped up around 4pm, then talked to mom and dad a bit about logistics. i decided i would just drive to alyssa’s cause it’s a bit far from the train. then talked to mom a bit about what she talked about with the therapist. she’s still concerned for sheena and hopefully we can help her get better soon

- drove down around 4:30pm, getting there around 5:30pm. i parked near her apt and she showed me around her apt. it was MAAAASSIVE. for 3 people 3BR for a very low priced rent. the first thing we did was get tacos at loco pez. it was a nice restaurant

at first it was a bit awkward cause we hadn’t talked in like over a year. but then after catching up briefly on what we’ve been up to (my chicago+seattle trip, her job, my upcoming job/moving to NYC, how our siblings were doing), the awkwardness cleared up. also cause our food came LOL. we both got 3 tacos each, they were pretty solid. walked back to her apt and just hung out in her room

she showed me some music she’s been making in logic pro x, the music had really chill vibes, like what you’d hear in a cafe (it was guitar + synth + bass + other beats). we talked about spotify and music (she saw some of my playlists from the spotify sharing feature which was cool), woman pockets, hinge, family friend food truck endeavor, smash, “now what?” feeling of after graduating

then we went to the living room to hang out / get some water. she turned on the TV and the wedding ringer was on TV. we watched that while talking about a bunch of TV shows (west world, game of thrones, bob’s burgers, legion, a few others, avengers movie). we also looked at some people who had graduated from our high school who now had children, and other friends from high school and where they’re at. it was a pretty fun time. i think i felt happy cause hanging out just felt familiar and nice to talk. lately i’ve realized how hard it is to keep in touch with people and this was another example of that. we meet like once a year but it was cool that we could jump back to where we left off. i think she’s one of the few people i keep in touch with from high school

i left her place around 9:30pm, getting back around 10:30pm. once i got home, dad talked to me again a bit about spending money and needing to be careful, ohio’s story with manufacturing with a company and not being able to find enough workers, GM and the reason they went bankrupt (tried to be too greedy after tariffs on foreign cars)

- came upstairs and took a shower and finished up friday’s blog post

it’s now 12:40am i’m ready to go to sleep. my eyes are barely open as i’m typing this, i’ve been waking up early ish the past few days. overall, a pretty fun day

also health update

i didn’t get a chance to pay too much attention to this while traveling but in seattle around february 7 (like 9 days ago) -- or maybe february 9...? anywho i think i noticed a dull ache in my right abdomen, just below my rib cage. it was kind of on and off for multiple days. and it was totally fine while i was walking around NYC with marsha all day / sprinting all morning so i wonder if the aching pain is just all in my head cause i’ve had that with bluetooth headphones. i’ve been feeling some random chest pains since i got back on tuesday but it’s very infrequent, like once a few days (each just being a few seconds and in different locations). but the dull ache in my right abdomen has been more frequent on and off, so i guess we’ll see where that goes

i looked it up online and all of the results are like severe stuff like appendicitis or something else... idk. i’m kind of concerned but if it still doesn’t go away after a few more days, i’ll try to go to the doc maybe

okay the end i am super tired

#post #february #2019 #normal #friends #wholesome #family

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audir8leaseprice543-blog · 6 years

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Audi R8 Lease Special: 10 Things I Wish I'd Known Earlier

There are many superior explanations why you ought to never ever lend your classic automobile to strangers, and plenty of a lot more for not doing so having a Jensen Interceptor. Apart from the safety threats, West Bromwich's greatest development has never been on the vanguard of dependability and very low ownership expenses. And still in the final year I have accomplished this many, over and over.

Nevertheless There exists a lots of logic to offering an Interceptor like a hire car, as I decided to do 12 months ago. It is among the couple of vehicles of the last 40 several years that has remaining a powerful and Long lasting impression on automobile illiterates and motor vehicle cognoscenti. But Whilst the E-Variety happens to be as common and evident as Australian wine, the Interceptor has stored https://en.search.wordpress.com/?src=organic&q=car rental a component of uniqueness and thriller. Nearly each individual typical car or truck employ the service of enterprise in the united kingdom has an E-Form on its fleet but just one other has an Interceptor.

Therefore the Interceptor was an evident choice when I chose to set up my classic auto employ corporation Fantastic Escape Traditional Car Employ the service of 2006. I'd noticed a distinct segment to offer a little something various from the same old classics using a A lot increased typical of presentation and repair. By coincidence, I also cherished the Interceptor and felt that right here was a vehicle that had been ignored for employ.

Basic car employ the service of also appealed mainly because I needed to have and generate some excellent autos but understood that I didn't have enough time and couldn't justify the expense on its own. From my past experience proudly owning classics, I realized that if I purchased an Interceptor it might little question just sit in the garage for forty weeks from the 12 months - which would not get it done or me much great.

I put in about twelve months checking out cars around Britain. I had accomplished my investigate and resolved that the most effective price tag band for what I necessary was around ten,000 (it would be far more now). Ideally I preferred a Mk3 seven.2 in Brienz Blue with beige interior, but I speedily realised that it absolutely was better to compromise on specification and get a much better vehicle. And I realised that the truth is all of them seem great. Regrettably at this level There are many of in excess of-valued autos, which meant I invested plenty of wasted time investigating cars and trucks that needed some huge cash put in on them. Eventually, by pure luck, I used to be launched on the owner of a car or truck in Haslemere who was selling it reluctantly.

LPB 63N was a very low-operator 1974 Mark three with later Jensen Elements Services updates. Finished in light blue metallic - nobody is very absolutely sure exactly what the colour is - with burgundy leather inside, the bodywork was fantastic in all the best sites. The only draw back was a tired motor - I didn't realise at enough time very how exhausted. It had been substantially a lot better than any of the other cars and trucks I looked at. I purchased it in January 2007 but like all The remainder it essential some severe revenue put in on it. I knew this but I didn't realise pretty just how much!

Throughout January and February I build the corporate, Fantastic Escape Vintage Automobile Employ, and organized images of the vehicle at a studio in Newton Abbot run by a friend of mine, Mike Evans. I drove the vehicle down over a freezing January day, put in 170 on gas, ran through 5 litres of oil in 400 miles and burst an elderly rear tyre. This was my introduction to Interceptor motoring.

I booked the vehicle into Race Sport in Studley - advisable by Inexperienced Lane Restorations, a Jensen expert close by - and discovered the lousy news. The pistons ended up poorly worn along with the auto needed a whole motor rebuild. I could have got by that has a partial rebuild but decided to do it correctly to make certain It will be trusted on employ the service of. The get the job done took a few months and LPB 63N went again to the highway in mid-April 2007 in the exact same week that the website and corporation had been released.

I released the corporate with just the Jensen and my present Alfa Romeo Spider for seek the services of. I envisioned the much less expensive Alfa to get the popular choice, but I hadn't reckoned on the English weather - or the enduring charm of the Jensen.

Despite a gradual start out, in mid-May fascination while in the autos instantly took off. From May perhaps until early December, as I create this, the vehicle has coated 7,000 miles almost totally on hire responsibilities, and continues to be employed by 30 or 40 different men and women. It really is out practically each individual weekend, even in Winter season, and is definitely the most well-liked car or truck with the five that we now offer you (I have included two V12 Jaguar convertibles, an XJS and an E-Kind, as well as a Morris Minor Traveller).

My practical experience suggests which the attractiveness on the Interceptor is big and huge-ranging. It operates from twenty five year-olds whose father experienced one, fifty-calendar year-olds who constantly required one particular, Gals who just adore them, thirty-yr-olds who would like to buy a single etc. I may need imagined that my consumers might be Adult men within their 50s however the vehicle's attractiveness is far, Considerably broader than that. It is amongst the good benefits of my job in order to meet up with these folks and provide them with the chance to fulfil a longstanding aspiration.

The success of the vehicle has also experienced other Gains. I've loved some great times photographing the Interceptor while in the Cotswolds, I've appeared during the Sunday Instances Using the car and I've just done a shoot for Classics Regular. I don't reach push it A lot but when I do I realise just why it is so revered - You cannot beat a major-capacity V8 for effortless urge Which irresistible sounds.

Now most classic auto entrepreneurs wouldn't lend their automobiles to strangers, let alone hiring them out consistently. This is completely understandable. When I began on the lookout for an Interceptor I realized that I was going to hire it out, so I approached the acquisition and ownership prospect from a very diverse standpoint. Even though I've normally wanted an Interceptor, the vehicle is a business primarily plus a display queen next. Experienced I owned LPB 63N right before I employed it I might really feel in different ways about rental.

At this stage you will be without doubt asking considered one of two thoughts. Can it be reputable And the way has it been taken care of? For a 33 12 months old automobile it's been extremely trustworthy and appreciably much better than I'd hoped. Customers do expect challenges - It is really an old automobile In fact - but so far the majority of the important maladies have happened when I've pushed it. The engine rebuild has created A serious distinction listed here. The problems happen to be as a consequence of ancillaries, which includes a unsuccessful resistor (leading to electrical failure on the best way back again from Goodwood), a slight gas tank leak in addition to a snapped bonnet lead (Fortuitously it still left the bonnet open).

The reduced stage came when a cooling lover unsuccessful, which as every Interceptor proprietor appreciates is similar to the display failing on your own laptop computer - the vehicle gets unusable. Sad to say this transpired when the motor vehicle was out on use to your younger man who was finding married in Cardiff - and although I used to be in Scotland browsing kin. The good thing is he was extremely resourceful and with the assistance of Martin Robey in Nuneaton he organised a alternative enthusiast in addition to a garage to fit it, all about the early morning of his marriage ceremony. Here is the tense aspect of common automobile employ.

This story failed to conclude there. The substitution lover was an increased general performance version that retained tripping the fuse. I only realised this a couple of days later on After i was driving the car all the way down to London for an additional wedding ceremony. The subsequent overheating also highlighted a failed seal about the radiator cap. The vehicle ran high-quality to the motorway - in 30 diploma warmth - but required a relentless 'end, reset, commence' process when in London targeted visitors.

When I achieved The shopper in Richmond I uncovered that he was basically finding up the Jensen en path to his wedding ceremony and he was dressed in his early morning suite. So there was no time to unravel the trouble and only barely enough time to present him how you can quickly resolve it. The good news is he wasn't driving https://dayway.co.za far, did not know Significantly about vehicles and did not location the pool of coolant that appeared when he brought it again the following day!

These niggles have proven the value of developing an excellent romantic relationship with a fantastic nearby specialist garage. Race Sport is knowledgeable in huge American engines and it has discovered a good deal with regard to the Interceptor in the last few months. If the vehicle fails I want a quick turnaround plus they constantly oblige.

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So the vehicle has long been trusted. Has it been looked immediately after? On the whole, Indeed. The standard procedures apply - ninety nine% of men and women are cautious, Pretty much reverential, in the direction of the car. one% are a lot less mindful but definitely not abusive. The car has picked up just one parking chip on the leading edge of the doorway but if not it is precisely as it was ahead of.

The true secret to trying to keep it by doing this would be to clarify to shoppers how precious the car should be to me and the cost to them of harming it. They indicator a form that highlights all defects and spend a significant deposit on assortment.

For just a auto that will get a great deal of frequent use, I've saved it practically as common. In the event the motor was rebuilt I chose to continue to keep it typical. The one variations I've created are to work with standard rubber in place of the much more expensive large efficiency tyres, And that i are going to be upgrading another cooling admirer by means of Martin Robey. Race Activity also dialled again the kick down, which consumers Really don't notice but which preserves the engine. Functioning action is limited to examining and keep the entire degrees and complete cleaning inside, outdoors and underneath soon after just about every employ. The Jensen stays in a very Carcoon amongst hires, that has an exceedingly seem investment decision.

The car's retain the services of function also generates an profits which i reinvest in the vehicle. Over the winter it can obtain some minor beauty improvements into the bodywork - Here are a few chips below and there from past a long time - And that i will get the wheels refurbished.

Following a hectic yr for me and a hard 12 months with the auto I'm pretty impressed with how the vehicle has held up. I now not worry in the slightest degree when it can be out - possibly about breakdowns or injury. The benefits are that the car is finding standard use, which may only be fantastic for it, and I'm obtaining a little profits that I can reinvest in improvements to the vehicle.

The achievement from the Jensen and Alfa now signifies that Terrific Escape has 6 cars accessible to hire. A few of the other cars and trucks are actually owned by vintage lovers who, like me, just Do not get ample use out of them. Their cars are cherished but they're pleased to rent them out since basic auto use customers appear to appear following them. And Additionally they get an money to reinvest of their cars and trucks. These 3 automobiles are employed out beneath a specialist agreement I have made for classic vehicle entrepreneurs underneath which we split The prices and earnings quite. It is actually adaptable to go well with personal necessities and enables entrepreneurs to select when they use they autos out, to whom and for what needs.

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sending-the-message · 6 years

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Why I quit working as a night guard by gablgabl

First of all, it's because the pay was shit. I come from a country where security guards aren't even registered as employees and are without proper training. Given the fact that I wasn't registered as an actual employee in my company, it was very easy to get fired depending on the boss's mood.

And because he was able to slip past the law, he could also get away with paying his guards below minimum wage. If you don't like it - tough luck, there's someone else who will gladly jump in for that money.

But before I get on my high horse, I'm here to tell you about why I quit my job. I used to work in a building as a regular night guard - which was a fancy way of being called an errand boy / gate boy.

Allow me to explain. My job was basically to open the gate for the residents of the building to let them in and out and keep an eye out for any suspicious activity on the monitors.

But when the residents complained about us being overpaid for the work we do, we had to start doing maintenance jobs, which later turned into personal errands for arrogant old people.

All for the same pay, of course.

Back then I was too lazy and too tired from night shifts to start looking for another job, so I just settled for the one I had. Besides me there were three other guards - Dandelion (yes, his name literally translates to that), an economy graduate who kept boasting about his diploma on every occasion, especially to new residents, until he would be reminded to open the gate.

Besides him there was Robert, a middle aged divorced man that lived with his mother. He was always surprisingly kind to his coworkers, but over the phone we would hear him yelling at his sister in Hungarian when he was frustrated.

George, who was ex military and was now retired was the last one. Smart and humorous, his right eye always half-shut due to a condition he had made us feel uneasy whenever we saw him drive off.

We mostly had rotations, 12 hours day shift, 12 hours night and then two days off, which messed up our sleep. I needed the cash back then, so I volunteered for night shifts whenever I could (not that they paid more, but since I was paid hourly, getting more hours meant more money).

Now, the building itself has always been pretty calm, save for the incessant complaints of the tenants about their TVs not working, the key not fitting their lock anymore or someone parking in their spot.

I spent most of the nights watching movies on my laptop or sleeping - because fuck staring at the monitors 12 hours for the pay I got.

In my year of working there, there have been only a couple of times that tenants needed something after midnight, and most of the time it was something they could easily handle themselves, but since they got used to being pampered, I had no choice but to check it out.

That brings us to the fateful night which resulted in me quitting the job. It was an ordinary day and I replaced Dandelion, who as usually, had a smartass remark to share.

"So then I told him," - he said - "I ain't gonna check out the basement at night if you don't fix the lights down there."

He was one of those guys you must have met at least once in your life - the guy in the circle of friends that always shares stories about his triumphs and genius remarks and never being the loser in any situation, whether it's something petty or important.

As usually, I dismissed his remark and told him to go get some rest, too irritated to listen to his smartmouthing.

I sat down and checked what he wrote in the report book - Mrs Amstadt complained about a smell coming from her floor, nothing unusual found.

That bitch seemed to be complaining about things all the time, mostly just to keep us occupied, I think.

Placing my phone on the table and removing the cap, I opened my laptop and looked for an interesting movie to watch.

The shift was going smoothly and I was passing the time alongside some zombie movie, glancing at the monitors from time to time, just to make sure there was no one there.

The only kind of activity I got thus far was a bunch of teens who sat in the vicinity of the camera and drank from a brown bag. Naturally, I had to chase them away and they never gave me any trouble for it.

It was around 1 AM when the office phone rang. When I picked it up, there was nothing but static.

After a few 'hellos' I hung up, concluding that it must have been old Peter the groundskeeper, who constantly had problems with his line.

"If you want something, come down here you lazy old shit." - I rubbed my eyed, starting to feel sleepy.

But the sound of weak and steady knocking on the door startled me wide awake. Through the glass on the door I was able to see Mr Markovic's pale skull-like face.

Cold sweat came all over me until I regained my composure and opened the door.

"What can I do for you, Mr Markovic?" - I tried to sound polite unsuccessfully.

"Come with me, please." - he grabbed me by the arm too firmly for a man his age.

"What can I help you with, sir?" - I followed him, trying to pull away from his grip subtly, but unsuccessfully.

He mumbled something along the line of "this way, the time has come", but I didn't understand it back then.

Whenever I tried asking him a question about what's wrong, he would ignore me and just keep pulling me by my arm.

I wanted nothing more than to push this old man and see his frail body break into pieces on the floor, but decided to indulge in his request for the sake of my job.

He took me to the elevator and then suddenly let me go. My arm was pulsating on the spot where he was clutching me.

"Third floor, sir?" - I got no response again and he continued looking straight, not showing any signs of hearing what I said.

So I pushed number 3 and waited until the elevator stopped.

"Alright, let's see what the problem is Mr Markovic." - I flew out of the elevator with him following closely behind me.

As we were nearing his room, 306, I could hear something that sounded like weeping. I stopped to listen.

"Is that your wife?" - I asked him, but got no response again.

He kept looking at me very creepily from behind, but again not showing any signs of affirmation. I moved towards room 306 and saw that the door was ajar.

The weeping was now louder, so I carefully pushed the door open, partially illuminating the apartment hallway with the light from the corridor.

"Mrs Markovic?" - I pointed my flashlight towards the elderly woman that was kneeling next to a couch, bawling her eyes out.

I couldn't see what she would be doing in a dark apartment, but I was starting to freak out by that point.

"He's gone he's gone he's gone" - she chanted between tears - "He to-told me he would be gone soon, but I-I didn't listen."

"Who's gone, Mrs Markovic?" - I slowly entered the hallway, illuminating the back of the couch.

"My hu-husband. My de-dear husband. He's gone he's gone."

"What are you talking about, Mrs Markovic, your husband is right he-"

I turned around, pointing the flashlight at the door but no one was there. The corridor stood dimly illuminated, but empty. I peeked out the door left and right and saw that it was empty, as well.

"Mr Markovic?" - I called out, but as I did, the hairs at the back of my neck stood up.

I returned into the apartment and slowly, very slowly went around the chair. With one jerk I illuminated the couch with my flashlight and I knew, I just knew what I would see there.

In the chair was Mr Markovic's limp body, mouth agape, eyes looking up in shock. He was still clutching the sides of the chair firmly.

Ignoring Mrs Markovic's weeping, I pulled up my sleeve and pointed the flashlight to my arm - the arm that Mr Markovic firmly held.

Above the elbow on the inside, there was a very distinct bruise the size of a thumb.

I didn't wait for the my shift to end. Hell, I didn't even wait for the ambulance to arrive. I got out of there as fast as I could, sending a text to my boss that I quit and that he can keep the final month's pay.

The guys from work said that after reviewing the footage they didn't see Mr Markovic anywhere outside. They only saw me leaving the office alone and going into the elevator.

It's been a year, but the bruise on my arm is still here. In fact, maybe it's my imagination, but it seems to be getting bigger.

#reddit #nosleep #scary #story

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