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greetingfromthedead · 3 months

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Shepherd Story 1 (God!Knives x GN!Reader)

Plot: In a world where fallen gods live among you, there is the god of winter and death who leaves behind merciless blizzards and famine wherever he goes on his eternal search for his other half he fell for many millennia ago.

Series: Shepherd. Check out Story 2 (smut) and Story 3!

Pairing: God!Knives x GN!Reader

Raiting: Teen and up (some mild sexual/intimate content, no smut)

Tags: fantasy AU, no use of "y/n", gods, feathery plant, fated love, romance, legends, nature magic, reunion, intimacy, possessive behavior, tenderness, some fluff, body worship, implied smut

Word count: 4.2k

Author's Note: This story is heavily inspired by the incredible @triplesilverstar's god AU stories A so called God on a mountain top? Well, better then freezing to death and So its a tradition? Weird. These stories are just way too good for you to not go read them. So gogogo (unless you are underage or not into smut)...

In a world much different from our own, where fallen gods live among people, there is a story that spans over many millennia. In that world, there are countless higher beings, each with their own unique powers and abilities. They guide nature in the endless cycle of creation and destruction. Among them is a man more feared and despised than the rest, known as the god of winter and death. His icy touch is said to bring misery and despair to all who encounter him. None can escape his chilling grasp, as the harsh winters can last for years on end. Children are born within his icy domain; they live and die, never knowing the warmth of summer. But only a few know the curse put on this world by the jealous gods of ancient times.

The god of winter and death roams solemnly through the lands, bringing icy winds and blizzards in his wake. The soft steps of his bare feet on grassy fields spread frost, and the lakes get covered in ice as he passes by. He doesn't bring famine and illness, but they follow him like a shadow as he moves south on his endless search. This world has never seen a winter like this before; it has lasted for fifty years and brought the northern lands to their knees. Grain stores are empty, and people are starving. Yet the god moves further and further south with each passing day, leaving death in his wake. He is still looking, searching for the one who bears the curse.

Restlessness has sunken its claws into you as of late. It's like something's tugging at your soul. You have always felt lucky that you were born quite far in the south, away from the dark shadows of the north. You are a winter child, and never in your years have you seen the bountiful summers the elders speak of. However, you haven't been plagued by winter's chill either, and for that, you are grateful. But as of late, your dreams have frozen over, set against a backdrop of white fields and icy winds. You feel it seeping into your waking hours; the breeze hasn't been gentle for weeks; instead, it cuts like knives into your flesh, leaving you shivering.

The fire roars in your little house, but its warmth can't chase away the chill in your bones. You wrap yourself tighter in blankets, trying to hold onto the last bit of heat before the darkness of night takes over. You count the herbs in your collection; you need to make sure you have as much stock as possible if winter indeed is to claim your little corner of the world too. You know you can't afford to run out; you are the herbalist that the entire nearby village relies on for healing remedies. As you put away the jars of dried leaves, you wonder if you can sleep tonight or will you be tortured again by the dangerous desire luring you into the night.

The flickering light of the fireplace seems to dim, the dancing of the light more lazy, barely reaching your feet, let alone your workbench. You shiver, feeling a chill run down your spine as the shadows in the room grow darker and more sinister. You turn around to inspect whether you need to add more logs to the dwindling fire, but your attention is grabbed by the window to your side. Icy flowers begin to form on the glass, their sharp angles glistening in the fading rays of the day.

Are these the last remnants of your blissful life? You wonder how long it will take for the cold to overtake the countryside and turn it into an icy wasteland. How many people will die, and will you ever see summer? You shake your head, trying to dispel the dark thoughts, and raise your gaze over the forming ice, as beautiful as it might be. You look at the grassy field and see glittering snow start to descend from the sky. While frost isn't all that uncommon, you've never seen it snow quite like this. The delicate flakes twirl and dance in the air, casting a magical spell over the landscape. You're in awe, and rush to the door, pulling the blanket around your shoulders tighter before stepping outside into the freezing twilight. The air is so still, not even a whisper of wind dares disturb the enchanting scene, like nature itself is holding its breath in anticipation. The soft flakes brush against your cheeks, melting on contact and leaving a cold, damp feeling on your skin. You try to imagine your home being transformed into a winter wonderland, with snow covering every surface in sight. You know you should fear that image more than anything else, but there's a strange sense of peace that comes with it.

You glance over your little yard to the edge of the forest, and there you see a figure. Your eyes are caught by his icy gaze, and you can't see anything else beside his piercing blue irises. You feel a chill run along your spine, but not from the cold, but from the kind of terror you would feel while staring down a wild wolf.

"I found you at last, my sweet darling." The nearly emotionless words of the god of winter and death carry over the silent landscape, echoing in your ears like a haunting melody. The coldness in his face softens slightly, replaced by something akin to a gentle smile.

You are too stunned to speak or move; the knowledge of who you've come across freezes you in place. But it isn't all fear that has made your legs so heavy; the restlessness of your soul is rearing its head again, calling out to the unknown like it's an old friend. You stay quiet as you look into the eyes of the god before you, feeling a sense of both terror and excitement. He turns toward you and steps closer. Your eyes are released from the shackles of his gaze. As you look at the rest of the figure, you see the mass of wings behind him. They aren't made up of feathers, but of shards of ice that reflect the light in a dazzling display. His body is clad in a flowy white robe, partially revealing his pale skin, some of it covered by the icy shards, the same as the wings. His hair and eyelashes look like they are frosted over due to the cold that emanates from his very being. He is breathtaking as he approaches you, his bare feet make no sound as he walks along the path. The blades of grass freeze in his presence, the puddle of water forms jagged crystals on its surface like razors.

"It has been too long, my dear," he whispers, his voice low and level, the sound crossing the empty space between you effortlessly to caress your ears.

His expression is tender yet filled with a cold intensity. This is not how you imagined such an infamous god to look at a mortal being like yourself. His eyes seem to pierce your very soul, making you feel both terrified and strangely alive.

With every step he takes, the surrounding air gets colder. Every inhale stings your lungs, every exhale produces a white cloud. Your fingers grip the blanket tighter. You can't shake the feeling that he knows something about you that you don't. His eyes have never left your face as he finally stops at your doorstep.

"I am sorry for being so impossibly late," he says, holding out a hand to you, palm up. His voice has a cold edge to it.

"Am I going to die?" The words slip over your lips before you even realize you've spoken them.

"One day, darling, but hopefully not any time soon. I cannot bear to lose you again." A slight smile flickers on the corners of his lips. "Take my hand."

"What do you mean? What do you want from me?" You know you should be afraid of him, but your soul tells you to place your hand in his.

"You will remember, sweet Shepherd." He waits patiently. "Take my hand."

"I'm not a shepherd; I'm a herbalist. You must have confused me with someone else." Saying a god is wrong seems like a surefire way to die, yet you do it anyway. Your reaction paints a slightly more obvious smile on his face as he looks at you through his low eyebrows with amusement. Your heart tells you to reach for his fingers.

"I will recognize you in any life, with any face. I will always find you, as your soul calls out to me. Take my hand." His piercing blue eyes look into yours, and you know that he is the source of your restless nights. You take a deep breath and finally allow yourself to surrender to your heart and soul. Your right hand lets go of the blanket and reaches out into the freezing night air to rest on his open palm. His skin feels like marble against yours, but his touch is comforting and familiar.

"Wake up, my love." His words echo in your mind as you realize the meaning behind them. Hundreds of previous lives come flooding back to you with a sense of recognition and understanding.

"Nai!" Your eyes open wide as you remember who he truly is, "You found me!" The cycle of reincarnation finally feels familiar once again.

He shifts closer, leaning his cold forehead against yours, your hand pressed against his chest.

"Do you still have it?" he asks softly.

"Of course I do; it's been with me all this time," you reply as you shut your eyes. His cold fingers squeeze yours tighter, and he lifts his forehead, replacing it with his lips. A gentle kiss on your skin as his free hand caresses your cheek. You would be shivering if it weren't for the fire lit up inside you.

"Thank you, sweet Shepherd," he says, placing his cheek against yours as he speaks by your ear. "For keeping it safe all this time."

"It is yours after all," you say, keeping your eyes closed, savoring the moment.

"No, sweetling, it is yours," he replies, his voice warm and comforting. He doesn't quite sound like a god of winter and death, one that brings merciless cold and darkness wherever he goes. Instead, he is the guardian and lover of all your past lives, reaching back to the ancient times before you were cast out from the Higher Plane. He is the one who cradles you in his arms and whispers promises of love eternal. The freezing stares are saved for everyone else but you, for you are his chosen one.

"Why don't you come inside?" You smile as you turn your head slightly towards him, feeling the frigid air of his breath against your ear.

"I doubt I would make it through the door," his silky voice chuckles softly. "I've been searching for so long, I fear I myself have frozen."

You can see his massive, crystalline wings over his shoulder. It has never gone on so long that he himself starts to freeze as well. His body feels more rigid, and the softness of his flesh has turned to ice.

"I can fix that, my love," you say softly, reaching out to touch his frozen skin with warmth in your fingertips. The blanket that you released slides off your shoulders, exposing the goosebumps on your skin. The cold air bites at your uncovered flesh, but you don't mind; you are in love with winter. Your fingers slide along his jaw, turning his face toward you. Your breath escapes you as a white vapor before you close the gap between the two of you, capturing his lips with yours.

The kiss you share is deep, filled with a kind of longing that has been building up for many thousands of years. You feel his body warm up; the coldness of his skin no longer cuts you like knives; and your fingers get to press into the suppleness of his cheek. The quiet air is filled with a sound reminding you of delicate glass breaking. His hand that has been tracing the curve of your neck moves down to rest on the small of your back and pulls you closer, flush against his body. You feel his feathers brush against your skin as he wraps you up in his numerous wings, enveloping you in his embrace, protecting you from the frost he brings to the rest of the world.

You pull back to admire the sight you know you will find—the glowing markings etched into his eyes and skin, the pattern traveling along his body, gracing his face, and decorating his arms with intricate designs that seem to come alive in the dim light of nightfall. He is still pressing your hand against his chest, where you can start to feel the steady beat of his heart, a rhythm that matches the intensity of your own.

The frost in his hair is gone, his skin taking on a tone of warmth, a blush of cold darkening his cheeks and the tip of his nose. The marks still linger on him, pulsing lightly, and you are mesmerized by the blue eyes that no longer remind you of a dangerous beast but of a soul who carries too many burdens.

You lead him into the warmth of your cottage, but with every step he takes, the fire flickers, threatening to die down completely. A kind of darkness and cold emanate from him, yet it doesn't touch you anymore. His hand in yours is warm and comforting, a stark contrast to the atmosphere around him. You refuse to let it bother you as your heart is set ablaze. His hand slides out of yours and he takes a longer step forward to be right beside you. His hand moves onto your back, and with gentle pressure, he guides you to the seat by the window, where the silvery moonlight starts to creep in. With a rustle of feathers, he spreads his wings before sitting down on the soft cushion, pulling you with him. Not once has he averted his eyes, looking at you like you're a treasure of priceless value. The hand not resting on your lower back caresses up your arm, sending shivers through your body. This seems to amuse him as you see the curve of his lips in the dim light. You settle more comfortably into his lap, and his wings fold and reach over to you like a soft blanket.

"Tell me, Shepherd, do you remember it all now?" His knuckles brush gently over your cheek.

"I have lived so many mortal lives that I can hardly keep them all straight, so I'm still piecing it together." You rest your hand on his chest, feeling the steady rise and fall of his breath. "But I remember you in all of them, one way or another. Why do you keep calling me Shepherd, love?"

"I don't mean to be impatient with you, but I've been waiting to find you for so very long. I can call you by your new name if you would like me to." His fingers trace along your jaw and lips as he speaks. "But you are the Shepherd. My other half. I may be the god of death, but I need you to guide the souls of the deceased into the afterlife so they can be born again."

"What?" Your eyebrows move closer together in confusion. He takes your hand out of your lap to place kisses on your knuckles.

"I meant to find you sooner, my love. This winter was never meant to last so long. But it is over now. We are reunited. I have made you a lot of work. I am sorry. Some of these souls have been waiting for 50 years to move on. I reaped them from their earthly existence, I brought death, and now they need you so my brother can bring them life once again. To offer them a new beginning in spring so that my sister can fill them up with the joy of summer. Don't you remember?"

His eyes are solemn as they look into yours. Deep regret plagues them—a kind of hurt you don't remember seeing in them before. The pain is clearly etched in every line of his face.

"I will. Just keep holding me, and it will come back; it always has." You squeeze his fingers tightly, and his lips move to your wrist, brushing against your skin.

"You can ask me anything you want, love." His piercing eyes look into yours as he measures your forearm with his kisses. "Perhaps it will help."

"Your brother—he lives on a mountain, right?" You watch him carefully. "Why do you have to roam around and not him?"

"Because people don't pray for winter and only the desperate hope for death," he replies softly. His lips trail to your shoulder, and you can't see his eyes anymore. "But even if I had the power to dictate winter and death from just one little corner of the world, I still need you to put an end to it. I do not wish to turn this world into a wasteland because you still live in it. You alone can rein in the northern winds and calm the raging blizzards, for I only love you. You alone."

You feel his sharp teeth brush against the skin of your neck, and you lean back, letting out a deep sigh as you enjoy his touch. Your hand that's been resting on his chest moves to his head, your fingers lacing into his hair. You close your eyes and savor the moment, knowing that you are completely captivated by him.

"Why must gods be so cruel and jealous? To not only curse us but the whole world with it. All that because you gave your heart to me. How spiteful, they cannot kill me, so they force me into a mortal body to ensure I'm a slave to reincarnation until the end of time." Your quiet voice fills the room as you feel his mouth move to your ear.

"And I would wage another war and fall all over again just to rectify it," he whispers into your ear. "You just say the word, my sweetest love, and I will fight for an eternity, I will lay waste to everything. Until then, I will keep searching for you in each and every one of your lives."

His hand on your back pulls you tighter, and the cocoon of feathers surrounding you rustles softly as his breath gets heavy against your skin. His lips trail along your cheek until they reach yours. He moves softly, capturing your mouth with a gentle kiss that speaks of promises fulfilled and passion unleashed.

"You are so breathtakingly gorgeous," he whispers, his voice filled with love and desire, barely moving away from your lips. "No god of beauty could ever compare to you. To think you are mine... all mine."

You lean into him as his lips meet yours in a passionate kiss, knowing that this love has not dwindled over the passing millennia. Your souls date back to a time before this world was created, in the Higher Plane, among other gods, you had found each other, and now, in this mortal realm, your devotion continues to burn just as brightly. His hands trace along the curves of your body, exploring every dip and valley with a hunger that matches your own. The kisses of the winter god burn on your neck as his face presses into your skin. You lean back as his fingers undo the buttons on your blouse. The fabric falls away, revealing your bare chest as his lips map every inch of it.

"Open your eyes, my darling, look at me." You hear his insistent voice as a gap forms between your bodies, "I have been waiting for too long to see them glimmer in the moonlight, for they hold all that my soul yearns for."

The god of winter and death spends most of the night worshiping your mortal body. He kisses every mark and freckle that adorn your skin like stars. He whispers poems of adoration against the scars time has etched into you. He declares his unyielding love for you in every way two people can. He leaves trails of fire in his wake that burn with his passion. Every inch of your body is a canvas for him to paint upon. His love leaves marks where his teeth have been and where his lips have lingered. His desire leaves bruises on your skin, but you know he takes care not to break your human body.

You lay in his embrace, surrounded by the massive wings that shield you from the cold he brought with him into your home. Your fingers trace patterns into his skin, your body is exhausted, but you know that dawn is creeping ever closer and the time for him to leave is near. Your eyes remain on him as he strokes along your tingling skin. His sharp gaze catches yours.

"You're staring," you say with both amusement and slight awkwardness.

"I can't help it, you're beautiful." His low voice caresses your ears.

"Why must you leave?" The words escape you.

"Because I'm the god of winter and death, my passing alone brings calamity, I cannot linger for long," he says mournfully.

"Then can't I come with you?" You say hopefully, a glimmer appears in your eyes.

"Alas, you are chained to a mortal body, and I reside in the north, far beyond human settlements, where only demons roam the dead forests. Even if my presence alone wouldn't kill you, the merciless nature of my frozen hell would. It's no place for someone as precious as you, my sweetling." You feel a slight chuckle ripple in his body. "Yet every time you wake, you ask me that same question."

"Then when will you return?" Your voice gets quieter as you see the darkness behind your window retreat.

"An army of war gods wouldn't be able to keep us apart. They tried." His voice is soft, and he touches your cheek. "I will come back once it's my turn again, the year will be guided through its seasons, and now I know where to find you. Until my return, guide the ones I have reaped back into the circle of life, sweet Shepherd. Guide them well until we meet again."

"I hope it won't be this long again, for our sake and theirs. I don't want the humans to fear you as much as they do."

"I too wish to be apart from you for as little time as possible, yet I will engulf this world in eternal winter if it means I can return to you." His voice has a sharpness to it, his words are both a promise and a threat. "Their fear means nothing to me compared to your love."

Dawn arrives too soon, the first rays of light brushing the tops of the trees acting as a warning. Your time has run out, and your fated love must bid you farewell. His touch lingers longer, the fingers tracing the outline of your face as if etching it into his memory for eternity. His stern eyes can't hide the tender look of adoration they hold for you. His lips press against yours as the layers of wings peel away from you. Before the coolness of the outside air reaches you again, your love drapes a blanket around you, never breaking away from the kiss.

You want to reach out to him, but his long fingers catch your wrists into his grasp. He holds on tight, gripping your hands with his. He pulls away slightly and places a kiss on your cheek.

"I love you, my darling," his voice whispers in your ear. You feel another firm press of his lips on your forehead. "Keep it safe for me."

"Your heart is always safe with me. I will guard it, and I will warm it when you come again." You smile as you look up into his piercing blue eyes. "I love you in every life I live."

He releases your hands, his fingers lightly brushing your chin, before he turns to leave. He steps away from your door into the snow covered yard. His majestic wings unfurl into the still air, each feather seemingly stretching out.

"Until I see you again, my sweet Shepherd!" He doesn't show you his face, but you hear the warm smile in his voice.

"Until then, darling!"

The god's quiet footsteps lead him towards the forest again. The bare feet don't make a single noise, and the white robe emits only the slightest rustle. He might be leaving, but the world itself seems fundamentally different to you than it did yesterday. Even as he disappeared, leaving snow and ice behind and a coolness in your chambers, the dawn that came brought new colors with it you had never seen before in this lifetime.

This was originally going to be smut, but I got carried away and then it didn't seem right anymore. If my brainrot doesn't pack its bags in the next few days then I might make a part 2 that follows the original plan...

There is now a smutty Part 2.

And even a 3rd installment.

Did you like this? Go check out my MASTERLIST and drop a follow for any and all future projects!

#trigun #trigun stampede #tristamp #trigun 98 #trigun maximum #millions knives #knives x reader #fanfiction #fanfic #plant boi #writing #knivesxreader

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choicesholidays · 9 months

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Choices Holiday’s Festival of Fears Halloween Prompt Event

It's almost October and that means Halloween/Samhain time! In the spirit of Creepy Campfire Tales (Special thanks to the creator of Creepy Campfire Tales, @annabellewynter for her gracious support of this endeavor), Choices Holidays is hosting a creepy prompt event!

Welcome to a month filled with Murderous Mondays, Terrifying Tuesdays, Witchy Wednesdays, Threatening Thursdays, Fiendish Fridays, Sinister Saturdays, and Spine-Chilling Sundays!

Below are a series of quotes, prompts, and memes meant for inspiration, but you are not required to use them. Any scary story will get reblogged and added to the master list. This is open to all choices fandoms.

All creative endeavors are welcomed: Fics, art, edits, mood boards, whatever you’re inspired to create!

The deadline is All Hallows Eve: October 31st, 2023, 11:59 p.m. CST.

Be sure you tag @choicesholidays #choicesholidays, and #festivaloffears for reblogging and inclusion on the master list at the end of the event.

Please feel free to reach out to this blog or @angelasscribbles with any questions, concerns, or suggestions.

Prompts are under the cut.

Quotes for Inspiration:

“The night is dark and full of terrors.” ~Game of Thrones, George R.R. Martin

“Have you ever danced with the devil in the pale moonlight?” ~ Tim Burton’s Batman (The line belongs to The Joker)

“Quoth the Raven nevermore!” ~The Raven, by Edgar Allen Poe

“We all go a little mad sometimes.” ~Psycho (1960)

“Whatever you do, don’t fall asleep.” ~A Nightmare on Elm Street

“I see dead people.” ~The Sixth Sense

Writing Prompts:

The following prompts came from The Write Practice.

Creepy Story Writing Prompts

1. It's late at night, and you hear footsteps in the cellar but you're definitely home alone…or so you thought.

2. You've put that doll in the cabinet, in the closet, in the attic, but no matter where you tuck it, it always shows back up on the sofa. On Halloween night, you find it watching you…

3. A bad-tempered businessman is driving home after a long day of work. He thinks he sees his kids trick-or-treating and stops to pick them up but those aren't costumes.

4. It's Halloween night and you and your friends think it would be fun to visit the local town's annual corn maze. But when you're inside it, someone inside the maze doesn't look like an actor in a costume. And shortly after, your friends start to disappear one by one.

5. You don't believe in the rumors that say a certain scary book is cursed—and that anyone who reads it will meet their maker by the end of the week. So naturally, you read it. And then things start going wrong…

Monster/Ghost Story Writing Prompts

6. A young woman goes to her grandmother's house for tea on Halloween night. They have a wonderful time together, sharing stories, joy, and the best times of family. The next day, the woman learns her grandmother has been dead for a week and no one could get ahold of her to tell her.

7. A little boy is lost in the woods, but at least his faithful dog is with him. As they look for the way out, the dog defends his master against terrifying monsters and animals. But the closer they get to escaping the dark forest, the more apparent it is that they'll need to face the person, or thing, releasing these monsters in the first place.

8. A farmer who dreams of being a scientist experiments on this year's pumpkins, hoping to enlarge them. He has a lot of success, until one of his potions is tampered with, and the cute pumpkin in his patch morphs into a monster that eats anyone who stumbles over its vines.

9. Your girlfriend/boyfriend brings over your favorite treat on Halloween, but when you eat it, you transform into a giant, poisonous snake that kills anyone who touches you. What do you do next?

10. You wake up on Halloween night, look outside your window, and see your sister sleepwalking away from the house. You chase after her but can't catch her until she plunges into a dark lake, where there's a mysterious song that starts to pull you deep below the surface.

Not-So-Spooky Story Writing Prompts

Not all people love scary stories. If this is you but you'd like to try to write a scary story—and have a fun time writing it—try tackling a (not-so) scary story prompt that could turn a potentially scary tale into something that is fun (even funny):

11. You hate clowns, which makes it even worse when your husband secretly decides to hire a clown for you son's birthday party—which just happens to be on Halloween.

12. Aliens have just landed on Earth and boy, did they pick a weird day to come. How do they respond to Halloween, supernatural or otherwise? Do they decide this place is just too bizarre and get the heck out, or do they stick around and join in the fun?

13. On Halloween night, lovers get to come back and spend the evening together one more time. One couple from the Roaring Twenties decides to come back from the grave to help their extreme nerd great-grandchild or the kid will never get married.

14. You decide that this year you're going to crash the ten top costume parties in town—and prank each one while you're at it.

15. A mad scientist determined to destroy the world falls hopelessly in love with a not-so-wicked witch. As hard as he tries, he can't impress her.

Meme Prompts:

#halloween #choicesholidays #festivaloffears #halloween 2023 #halloween prompts #choices fandom #all hallows eve #spooky season #halloween vibes

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mikkeneko · 2 months

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Writing patterns

Rules: List the first line of your last 10 (posted) fics and see if there's a pattern!

Tagged by @fortune-maiden.

It probably said a lot about the kind of person Shen Qingqiu was that when he awoke to the sight of a white gauzy canopy overhead, perfumed sachets hanging from all four corners, that his first thought was not What a lovely morning! even though it was, since mornings on Cang Qiong Mountain were always exquisite. - In Durance Veil

The great empire of the Wen stretched from sunup to sundown. From the rigid mountains to the edge of the sea, across lakes and rivers and all through the jianghu, the flaming red sun rose over every house in the land. - The Ghost Robbers of Yunmeng

One of the imps in Mobile-jun's palace says it, when he doesn't realize Luo Binghe can hear -- doesn't realize just how good his hearing is, enhanced by years of spiritual cultivation training. "Well, I'm just saying, it's a waste of space!" the imp says. - nostrum

Shen Yuan came back to awareness to the sound of a distant buzzing, threading through a heavy gray fog that seemed to have swallowed him. - Immortal Lamb Crusader Way

It was nice to get out of Golden Scale Tower on a night hunt, and it was nice to spend time with his jiujiu. In fact, those were two of Jin Ling's favorite things! - Bringing Up JC

Jiang Cheng sat in his father's office, waiting for his siblings to appear in response to his emergency meeting summons. No, damn it all, he had to stop thinking like this. It was his office -- the Sect Leader's office. - (say hello to my) thirty million little friends (Latest chapter, since the first chapter of this item was posted like four years ago.)

Somewhere lost in the clouded annals of myth, in the vague spaces beyond the edges of the map where only dragons lie, in places unknown and untread by mortal feet, (do not pass Go, do not collect $200), in just such a dim and murky place, resides a tavern. - Never Gonna Tell A Lie 3: Sexily Sinister Sorcerer Spree

Light flared in the darkness, and someone off to his left hissed a warning. Hastily, Sergeant Major Havoc cupped his hand around the match, angling the cigarette between his teeth to light the end of it, and then shook the match out. - Countdown Till Dawn

A phone rang. The sound was flat and tinny, a default ringtone on a phone that had never been customized, barely ever been touched. - You Only Die Twice

It was a pleasant day in upstairs rooms of the second-nicest teahouse in the city, because it turned out that the second-nicest teahouse in the city was where a lot of the really bad ideas came from. - Yunmeng Shuangjie Reconciliation Speedrun, Any %, No Yanlis, 8.5k

Looking over it... As usual there seems to be a divide between comedic fics (which start off with overblown portentiousness, then devolve into something silly) and serious fics, which simply open with a scene description.

One common theme seems to be that a serious story starts on a sudden flare of something -- of light (a match) or sound (a phone rings, or a buzzer sounds) and then orients from that point and goes forward. And Shen Qingqiu's stories seem to consistently start with him waking up, while other POVs don't.

Other than that, I don't see a lot of commonality.

Tagging @cerusee, @nyoomerr, @jingyismom, maybe @tavina-writes if you wanna!

#mikke memes #mikke fics

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marcishaun · 4 months

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Inside the Vatore house, Caleb & Lilith discuss the guests that will soon be arriving. While Lilith is shocked that Vlad has taken a future wife, Caleb realizes that his gut feeling from 6 weeks ago was right - Vlad had kidnapped someone those many nights ago

Caleb knew Vlad was up to no good. They've been enemies for decades, and he could always tell when Vlad was plotting something sinister.

One night many weeks ago, Caleb had heard a shriek around dusk time. When he looked out his window, he saw an abandoned car. When he went to investigate, he saw that it was empty with no sign of it's owner. After checking the scene to make sure no one was injured nearby, he assumed that once again Vlad must have made a meal out of a lost traveler. With a sigh, he had went back into his house.

The next morning the car was gone, and Caleb went out to the huge lake behind his home. He knew that's where Vlad normally dumped all evidence of his crimes. When his amazing eyesight allowed him to make out the car's tag through the murky water, he shook his head & allowed himself to head back inside. He had almost completely forgotten about that night, until around 2 weeks ago, when he thought he saw a young woman walk past a window in Vlad's house.

#simsbymarci #ts4 #simblr #the sims 4 #sims 4 #the sims #TheBeautyAndHerBeast #caleb vatore #lilith vatore

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esoterium · 6 months

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Tag Nine People You'd Like to Get to Know Better!

I was tagged by @illustrious-beauty

𝐅𝐀𝐕𝐎𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐄 𝐂𝐎𝐋𝐎𝐑(𝐒): dark/deep teal (think that deep blue green color in crystal clear lakes where it gets really, really deep), green, purple, burnt orange

𝐅𝐀𝐕𝐎𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐄 𝐅𝐋𝐀𝐕𝐎𝐑(𝐒): i used to love spicy stuff but not so much anymore. lately i've been sticking with savory flavors or tangy stuff. i do love an occasional sweet, though! especially this time of year.

𝐅𝐀𝐕𝐎𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐄 𝐌𝐔𝐒𝐈𝐂: the cure, blue october, him, peter murphy, bauhaus, siouxsie and the banshees, tori amos, my chemical romance, pink floyd, matchbox 20, florence and the machine, mumford and sons, afi, type o negative, lady gaga, heilung, nine inch nails, grateful dead, dave matthews band, lots of broadway, skid row (sebastian bach only), danny elfman, johnny cash, eminem, post malone, ozzy osbourne, um.. i really really love music so it's hard to pick. the cure's my favorite band of all time. blue october and him follow really close. same as peter and mcr. all the other ones are loved and there's like a ton of others i could list but i'm cutting myself off. rofl!

𝐋𝐀𝐒𝐓 𝐒𝐎𝐍𝐆: congratulations by blue october

𝐅𝐀𝐕𝐎𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐄 𝐌𝐎𝐕𝐈𝐄(𝐒): ghostbusters, beetlejuice, sinister, the devil's rejects trilogy by rob zombie, dracula, interview with the vampire, clive barker's lord of illusions, the greatest showman, american psycho, moulin rouge, insidious, silence of the lambs, the conjuring, psycho, night of the living dead, quills, deadpool, captain america: the winter soldier, iron man, captain america: civil war, thor: ragnarok, what we do in the shadows, step brothers, elf, get out, warm bodies, renfield, the matrix, shaun of the dead, and so so many more. lol!

𝐋𝐀𝐒𝐓 𝐌𝐎𝐕𝐈𝐄: bram stoker's dracula (again)

𝐅𝐀𝐕𝐎𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐄 𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐒: dexter (we ignore that wtf lil season they put out a cpl years back cause no), the walking dead (kinda the same anything after season 9/10 cause wtf), sons of anarchy, true blood, x-files, six feet under, bates motel, hannibal, criminal minds, ahs: murder house/asylum/hotel, glee.

𝐋𝐀𝐒𝐓 𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐒: sons of anarchy (again)

𝐂𝐔𝐑𝐑𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐋𝐘 𝐖𝐀𝐓𝐂𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆: about to start dracula 2013 (slipped away from me once before so starting over) and prolly penny dreadful, otherwise not currently watching any series. only murder docs for sleep. :X

𝐂𝐔𝐑𝐑𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐋𝐘 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐈𝐍𝐆: does partners threads count?

𝐂𝐔𝐑𝐑𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐋𝐘 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐎𝐍: keeping my sanity through a bathroom remodel and threads.

Tagging: anyone who follows me. cause lemme learn more about ya! just tag me so i know ya filled it out!

#insp; ooc dash games #one from the writer's desk (ooc)

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lipstickmarks · 1 year

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Cunningham Manor Mystery

Summary: Gravity Falls Hellcheer AU where Eddie is a professional ghost hunter and Chrissy’s family hires him to banish the ghosts from their house.

Author’s Note: Hellcheer is literally dipcifica and northwest manor mystery is my favorite GF episode so here is this <3

Warning: smut, fingering, mentions of demons, mentions of ghosts, smidgen of violence, allusions to Chrissy’s ED, no Vecna, no Jason :)

Additional tags: nervous chrissy, 10 points to anyone who can spot the Robin Hood reference

A sinister storm was brewing on the night of the Cunningham’s Annual Soiree. But something even more sinister lurked within the walls, beneath the floorboards that were built atop hushed atrocities.

And that something was threatening to come out.

The Cunninghams, wanting to keep things quiet, begrudgingly reached out to the only person insane enough to even dare dabble with the Satanic presence they could no longer deny.

Eddie Munson. Ghost Hunter.

Phillip Cunningham had read about him in the paper-- he was a Hawkins local who made a name for himself uncovering supernatural happenings throughout the small town. It was nothing to pay much mind too, until spirits began making themselves heard throughout his house. Vengeful spirits.

“We need to do something about this.” Phillip said to his wife, Laura. There were only 12 hours until the party started and cups had been flying off shelves, the fire place had been turning off and on by itself, plus an hourly ghostly wail was making everyone’s ears bleed.

“I will not have this nonsense in my house, Phillip! How would we even go about contacting him?”

“I can ask him.”

Laura and Phillip looked at their daughter, Chrissy who had entered the room unseen.

“Eddie,” She clarified. “We go to school together, he’s in my history class. I can ask him if he can come fix our ghost problem.”

It was just like Chrissy to offer to do errands for her parents. Usually, as an excuse to get out of the house and away from them. Cunningham Manor may be a stunning house, but it is not a home. Not with Laura Cunningham’s venomous words and Phillip Cunningham’s constant absence.

“We do NOT have a ghost problem! Keep your voice down, the neighbors will hear you!” Laura chided her daughter, even though she was the one being loud.

A loud creak came from the family room, followed by an intense chill that all three of them felt. Phillip sighed and pulled his checkbook out of his pocket, thrusting it into Chrissy’s hands.

“Be quick about it, and do not let anyone in that part of town see you.”

Chrissy felt a chill go up her spine, not from the ghosts, but from the excuse to leave. And the thought of seeing Eddie...

It’s the only thing that occupied her thoughts as she drove her dad’s Lincoln Continental all the way to Lover’s Lake. Chrissy had had a massive crush on Eddie since middle school, where he and his band performed in the school talent show. He looked so free as he wailed on his guitar, something she longed to feel. Ever since then, she’d taken note of him in the hallways, sneaked longing looks while they were in class together, and let her mind take her places that her conscious body would never.

Chrissy parked underneath and oak tree and got out, walking toward the only lake house on the property. When she approached the door, she saw a sign that read HELLFIRE GHOST HUNTERS FOR HIRE.

“This must be the place.” She muttered to herself. Chrissy knocked on the door and waited in anticipation.

Disappointment washed over her when a long-haired guitarist did not open the door, but rather a 14 year old kid. He stood behind a screen with a notebook in his hands.

“Do you have an appointment?” He asked.

“I’m sorry?”

“Do. You. Have. An. Appointment?” He asked, an air of annoyance in his voice.

Chrissy suddenly got nervous. Should she have called ahead? Maybe his ghost hunting business was more in demand than she thought. Were they even available to help out today? Was Eddie even here? Maybe he had another ghost hunting gig or he was out on a date or--

No, no, Chrissy. Don’t go there.

“Um, I- Hi. I’m a friend of Eddie’s-- well, I know him from school. I was just hoping that he could help me out.”

The gatekeeper narrowed his eyes and consulted a notepad in his hands.

“Name?”

“Chrissy Cunningham.”

Before he could say anything else, a hand appeared out of thin air and yanked him back by his shirt.

She could hear a loud voice yell “Wheeler, go wash something!” A very familiar voice.

Chrissy’s heart started to race when he appeared in front of her. Eddie. All long hair and chocolate button eyes and ring-clad hands.

He looked a bit startled to see her, but then his surprise melted into a grin.

“Well, Chrissy Cunningham, as I live and breathe...”

She didn’t know what else to do so she awkwardly waved at him.

“Hi, Eddie.”

Eddie grinned as he opened up the screen door to let Chrissy inside. The lake house was not as shabby as the outside would have you believe. There were small mis-matched love seats, a scattering of comic books on the floor, and posters of different rock bands.

Eddie picked up a few boxes labeled “Dungeons & Dragons” off of an ottoman and pushed it over to Chrissy. She sat down while he sat on the arm of the couch.

“So, uh, what brings the Queen of Hawkins High to my humble workplace?”

“I need your help. Well, my parents do. You see, we have this party tonight. It’s kind of an annual thing and they invite the mayor and a bunch of really important people but we’re having this insane ghost problem.”

Eddie’s eyes didn’t leave Chrissy’s face as she spoke. It struck her as odd, given that people usually don’t pay attention to her when she talks. They either stare at her legs or stare at something more important and only pretend to listen. But Eddie... she had his undivided attention.

“How insane of a ghost problem are we talking?”

Before she could answer, the gatekeeper came back in carrying a tray of mugs. Eddie plucked one off the tray, but his gaze never strayed from Chrissy’s face. He shyly walked over to Chrissy and offered her a mug too.

“Sorry about before, the power of being Hellfire secretary goes to my head sometimes. Um, cocoa? I make it myself with my sister’s secret recipe.”

Chrissy faltered. Her stomach twisted in both repulsion and yearning for such a sugary drink. She was never allowed cocoa. At Christmas, she could only have half a cup brewed with water instead of milk and absolutely no marshmallows.

But it’s freezing outside and her mom’s not here to tell her no and it smells so good and she feels... safe here.

Chrissy takes the Hard Rock Cafe mug off the tray and offers him a smile of gratitude.

“Thank you.”

Chrissy takes a sip and allows herself to savor the deliriously amazing taste of cocoa and marshmallow.

“Wheeler’s a good kid, he’s just... annoying as fuck sometimes. So, Chrissy, you were saying?” Eddie asked.

Chrissy nodded, remembering the task at hand. It was funny, she had only been here for a few minutes but she already felt so at ease. This place just felt warm and homey.

“Right, um...moaning, things falling over, the feeling of being watched...” Chrissy shivered as she recounted the last few nights. There was no other word to describe it. She felt completely and utterly haunted. “I’ve even woken up with scratches a couple times.”

Eddie’s eyes darkened, which gave Chrissy the impression that her ghost problem was maybe bigger than her parents had led her to believe. Eddie sat his mug down on the coffee table and braced his hands on his knees.

“Chrissy, it sounds a bit worse than ghosts.”

Chrissy swallowed.

“What’s worse than ghosts? Demons?”

Eddie winced.

“Something like that.” He stood from the couch and sat down on the coffee table that was directly facing Chrissy. “But, it’s something my crew and I have dealt with a million times over. I would be more than happy to banish a few cranky demons for you.

Chrissy felt her face flush from his flirtatious words. She fished her dad’s checkbook out of her pocket to keep from having to look directly at him.

“How much is your going rate? We’ll pay you for a rush job.”

Eddie placed a hand on top of hers that was clutched around the checkbook to stop her.

He looked up at her and she couldn’t deny that Eddie Munson was even prettier up close. His eyes, his smile, his curly hair... he was making her swoon without even trying.

“First banishment’s free. Special deal-- it’s the uh, longevity discount.”

“Longevity?”

Eddie nodded.

“Oh yeah, you and me go way back, Chrissy. Middle school talent show? I was with my band and--”

Chrissy’s eyes widened.

“You remember the talent show?”

Eddie looked playfully affronted.

“How could I forget? Your cheerleading routine moved me, truly. I have had such a deep appreciation for the sport ever since. You changed lives, Chrissy.”

She was laughing now, a true, guttural laugh. One that she didn’t try and hide behind her hands or lower the volume of for fear of being too loud.

She didn’t have to hide around Eddie. She could just...be.

“I did, huh?” She asked through her laugh.

“You changed mine.”

And maybe it was the way he said it, or maybe it was the twinkle in his eye, or the playfulness in his voice, but Chrissy felt a rush of something she never had before. And she was certain that there was nowhere on Earth or in between that was felt safer than with Eddie Munson.

The party was in full swing. Eddie had performed a few banishment spells when he arrived. The rest of his crew-- Dustin, Mike, and Lucas, had all but completed their jobs so they helped themselves to the fondue fountain.

Everything was going smoothly thus far so Eddie took to monitoring everything with his equipment to make sure it stayed that way.

Chrissy shuffled over to Eddie and leant down to his level.

“How’s it going?”

“I feel like I’m suffocating.” Eddie huffed, tugging at the bow tie Chrissy had helped him with earlier.

“I’m sorry, my parents have a strict dress code.”

Phillip and Laura all but gagged when Eddie showed up with his ripped jeans and Hellfire t-shirt. They ordered him to change so he borrowed a tuxedo from Phillip’s younger years that still didn’t quite fit right.

Eddie shrugged it off.

“I’ve had tighter.”

If he noticed the way Chrissy’s cheeks darkened to a shade of pink that matched her tulle ballgown, he didn’t show it. He simply kept his face on the EMP as he scanned every inch of Cunningham Manor.

“Don’t you wanna mingle with the nobles?” Eddie asked, noticing that Chrissy hadn't really left his side.

She shook her head, curled ponytail shaking as she did.

“No. These parties have never been my thing.”

“Because the hors d'oeuvres taste like concrete?” Eddie asked.

Chrissy laughed at his very fair assessment of the slop her parents served.

“That, but also no one really wants to talk to me. I mean, they come up to me and ask me questions but I can tell that they don’t really care what I have to say.”

Eddie lowered his EMP and faced Chrissy, a deep frown set on his face as he listened to her.

“Have you ever just had people... tolerate you? Not accept you, or even love you but just let you exist?” Chrissy’s own bluntness surprised herself. This wasn’t something she talked about, to anyone. Her feelings of being invisible and unwanted. But it was just so easy to talk to Eddie.

Eddie cleared his throat.

“Um, yeah actually. My mom split when I was still in underoos. Dad went to the big house not too long after. After a while, I kind of just accepted that everyone skips out on people like me.”

“People like you?” Chrissy asked.

Eddie managed a smile, although it was sad.

“Freaks.”

“If you’re a freak, then so am I.”

“You flatter me, Chrissy Cunningham.”

Without thinking, she reached for his hand. It was just so... easy around Eddie. It was easy to talk to him, it was easy to be around him, it was easy to touch him.

When she met his eyes again, there was an intensity to them that ignited a fire in her belly.

“Eddie, it’s kind of stuffy in here, do you wanna-”

“Yes.”

Silently, they slipped into the long hallway, far away from the party. They walked to the opposite end of the house and Eddie took a shot in the dark, opening up the door to a room that was thankfully empty.

It was a modestly decorated guest room, but it was unused. The only light was from the full moon shining in from the window.

It was as if nothing else existed in this room besides Eddie and Chrissy. No expectations, no loud voices demanding that they be one thing or another.

Chrissy shivered from the lack of warmth in the room and Eddie slipped his jacket off and onto her shoulders. He straightened out the lapels and Chrissy blushed.

They smiled at one another and maybe Chrissy should have been afraid of how much she felt drawn to this man. How strongly her feelings were after only being ignited a few hours ago. But then again, maybe they’ve been building all this time, a steady plant that had grown from the seed planted all those years ago in middle school. Maybe that little flicker of attraction had always been there and had always been growing.

And maybe that’s why she kisses him.

Chrissy placed her hands flat on his chest and Eddie reached up to push a strand of hair back behind her ear.

She didn’t have to get on her tip toes to reach him, Eddie came down to her level. He dipped his head down and slotted his lips against hers, soft and gentle.

Eddie was an amazing kisser, he matched the pace that Chrissy set and followed her lead. She gripped the fabric of his shirt to keep him closer (as if he was going anywhere) and he slid his arms around her waist.

Chrissy’s eyes were still closed when Eddie pulled away, wanting to savor the magic. When she finally opened her eyes to look at him, Eddie looked flabbergasted. Like he couldn’t believe this was real life.

He leaned in to kiss her again. And again. Then a third time for good measure. They were soft, gentle pecks that he moved to her chin, then along her jaw line, then steadily down the side of her neck and down to her collarbone.

“Eddie...” Chrissy whispered breathlessly, gripping his bicep.

“I’m here, Chrissy.” He said between kisses.

She mumbled something and apparently she said it much too quietly because he didn’t pull away from her. Chrissy decided to take matters into her own hands. She tangled her hands in Eddie’s hair and tugged at his roots.

When he finally met her eyes, she got the confidence to say what she wanted.

“Bed.”

Eddie looked behind him at the empty California King and then looked back at Chrissy with a wicked grin.

“Why, Chrissy Cunningham, you little minx.”

Chrissy giggled as Eddie placed both hands on the side of her face and kissed her feverishly. He walked them toward the bed and let Chrissy push him onto the plush mattress and climb on top of his lap.

Now it was Chrissy’s turn to love on Eddie’s neck while he undid the ribbons and buttons on the back of her dress. It was a convoluted enough design to get her out of but his concentration was impeded when Chrissy started licking and sucking a hickey into his neck.

He stifled a tiny moan and his hands stalled.

“Chrissy, I have no idea how I’m gonna get you out of this dress.” He admitted through short breaths.

“No time for that anyway.” Chrissy mumbled into his neck. She took one of Eddie’s large hands and placed it on top of her thigh.

Now this, this Eddie could do.

He tapped his fingers against her inner thigh, dancing along her skin, not quite reaching the apex of where she needed him most. But when Chrissy lets out a little whine, well how can Eddie deny her?

He bunches her dress up and pulls her panties to the side. He plunges one finger inside of her and almost gasps at how wet she is.

“Ah!” Chrissy whimpers and Eddie could just cum right then and there.

They’ve only been going at it for a few minutes, how is she so wet? Has she been thinking of this all night?

He thinks Chrissy might be able to read his mind because at that moment, she sinks her teeth into his skin. Eddie can’t hold back anymore, he moans loudly and feels Chrissy smile into his skin.

Eddie can’t take it anymore, he needs to see her. He slides his hands through her hair just like she did to him, but instead of pulling her hair, she finds the pink scrunch holding her pony tail together. In one swift movement, he gently tugs it out of her hair and slips it onto his wrist.

When Chrissy pulls away from his neck, he can finally look into her icy blue eyes, wide from lust.

“You stole my scrunchie.” She says through a breathy giggle.

“Stole?” Eddie gasped, feigning offense. “That’s a naughty word. I never steal. I simply take what is mine.”

He gently took hold of Chrissy’s chin between his thumb and forefinger, his chocolate brown eyes boring into her blue ones.

“Do you wanna be mine, sweetheart?”

Chrissy feels a warmth pooling in her lower belly. She would be embarrassed at how wet she is except for the fact that she can’t find it in herself to be embarrassed around Eddie. Ever.

“Yes. Yes, Eddie.” She says desperately.

That must have been the answer Eddie was looking for because he pulls her in for a heated kiss. He slides his finger back inside of her and swirls it around, causing Chrissy to moan into his mouth.

Their kisses become more heated and messy as Eddie pumps his finger harder and faster into her. Chrissy nearly comes undone when he adds a second finger.

“Jesus Christ, Eddie.” Chrissy thinks she might die when he curls his finger and rubs her clit with just the right amount of pressure. “I think I’m gonna--”

“You wanna cum on my fingers?”

Chrissy whines, the image of Eddie’s ring-clad fingers soaked with her cum almost topples her over the edge.

What finally does finish her off is when Eddie adds a third finger.

His fingers are somehow the perfect size to stretch her walls in a way that burns with pleasure. His three fingers pumping in and out of her, soaking her thigh and his.

Chrissy is moaning, whimpering, whining, getting louder as she builds to a climax. All of it is music to Eddie’s ears.

He swirls his finger around her clit and Chrissy has to bury her face in Eddie’s neck to keep from screaming his name. She cums on his fingers and she cums hard. Eddie continues fingering her through her orgasm and even teases her a little bit all the way to an aftershock.

When she finally finishes, she’s panting into his neck and Eddie is holding onto her for dear life.

He presses kiss after kiss into her hair.

“Doing okay?”

Chrissy nods, then raises her head up to face Eddie. Her cheeks are flushed, her hair is messed up, her dress is bunched up at her thighs.

“Yeah, yeah I’m okay.” She beams at him. Then, because she can, she traces the outline of his lips with the tip of her index finger. “Thank you.” She whispers.

Eddie laughs quietly.

“What kind of a gentleman would I be if I didn’t make a lady cum after banishing her demons?”

Chrissy giggles and leans in for one more kiss when a loud banging and sharp screams start coming from the other room.

“Shit.” Eddie curses under his breath.

“That doesn’t sound good.” Chrissy works on getting her dress straightened back out, but doesn’t bother with putting her hair back up. Eddie helps her up and the two of them rush back out to the living room, only to see some sort of apparition flying over the party.

The guests are huddled in a corner, terrified. And it’s not hard to see why.

In the center of the room is a cackling spirit with glowing eyes, flying out into the crowd and sending out blasts of lightning to different areas of the house. One of the lightning blasts shatters the glass window that leads to the backyard and

“Oh my God! What is that?!” Chrissy grabs onto Eddie’s arm, shaking like a leaf.

“A level 7 ghost.” Eddie says, his voice even. He’s seen this before. He turns to Chrissy, sincerity and affection in his eyes. “Chrissy, stay here.”

Chrissy’s eyes widen and her heart drops into her stomach.

“What? No. Eddie, no--” Tears build in her eyes. She just got Eddie. She can’t lose him.

Eddie places his hand on the side of her face. Although he’s smiling, she can see the terror in his eyes. He leans in and presses a desperate, searing kiss to her lips. Somehow, among the chaos and world caving in, everything quiets.

“I’ve been in love with you since middle school, Chrissy Cunningham.”

Chrissy gasps, those earth-shattering words that Eddie leaves her with as he dashes into battle. She does her absolute best to stay upright as she watches Eddie wave his arms around and call out to the ghost.

Tears overwhelm her and she can’t do anything but watch.

Eddie pulls out a small device that had been hanging from his belt. How did she not notice that before?

He presses a button to activate it and aims it at the ghost. It emits a powerful signal that sucks the spirit into it. It shrieks at an unforgiving volume, and Chrissy winces, covering her ears.

The spirit gets sucked into the canister and Eddie struggles to keep his hold onto it because of the sheer volume. His shoulders are shaking and it’s obvious that he’s doing everything to keep it from overpowering him.

“AHH!” Eddie yells out as the spirit finally gets sucked into the canister and the boys quickly slid the cap on to keep it from escaping.

The entire room breathes a sigh of relief.

Chrissy nearly falls over.

“Eddie!” Chrissy runs at full speed toward Eddie and wraps her arms tightly around him. She doesn’t care who sees. She doesn’t care that her house is caving in. Eddie is safe. That’s what she cares about. He risked life and limb to save everyone. To save her.

He’s her hero.

#might do a part 2 with more smut and chrissy needing a place to stay now that her house is destroyed ;)#hellcheer #hellcheer smut #Eddie munson #chrissy cunningham #Eddie x chrissy #eddissy #stranger things #Eddie and chrissy #gravity falls au

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wandawiccan60 · 2 years

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The Witch of Camden Town

Part 10

A/N: Hey guys it's me again back with you with another part of my Alfie story. I like to always thank every single one of you guys for reading this story. It really means a lot and thanks for supporting me on this crazy journey. And without further ado, Enjoy!!!

ALFIE SOLOMON'S MASTERLIST

TAGS: @hecatemoon87, @kittycatcait219, @potter-solomons, @darklydeliciousdesires, @tomhardyspinkyfinger, @veddieiscanon, @jarvisrocks, @zablife, @solomons-finest-rum, @alikaheroes, @annisse, @omgeternal, @buttercup32sstuff, @bubblyani, @theshelbyslimited, @theshelbyclan, @thealmightybitchgoddess, @raincoffeeandfandoms, @queencoraline3, @thefics-that-drip, @mollybegger-blog, @lovebitesimagines, @rikki-b-lake, @madame-wilsonn, @alfiesolomons-treacle

Word Count: 5,341

WARNING 18+ ONLY!!!: Some Cussing, Graphic Blood, Dark AU, Mentions of Dark Ritual, Some Fluff(Alfie and Jvonka), and Mentions of Smoking

✨♥️🌹✨♥️🌹✨♥️🌹✨♥️🌹✨♥️🌹✨♥️🌹✨♥️🌹✨♥️🌹✨

“Going back to his home sounds like a terrible idea Jovonka, have you lost your mind?” Isabel exclaimed as she was fixing Elena’s long brown hair into two braids.

“Oh, please Isabel, trust me and it is best for Elena she will be safer at his house than out here. Please, trust me. It’s best for her and also for you at least,” Jovonka protested as she was combing her long, brown hair.

Isabel just sighed at what her sister was saying, not liking where this was going at all. But as she was thinking through this for quite some time now, she noticed Jovonka was right. They have also noticed that it’s possible that Gustovo and his men could be anywhere around these parts. And if it’s true, they might end up getting caught without them noticing. It made Isabel feel nervous and uneasy, for she worried about everyone’s safety. Especially for Little Elena not wanting her to be in the position she and Jovonka had to go through the worst potential scenarios they had to endorse.

Isabel then as she finished doing one braid on Elena’s hair, she then continued with the other half. As she braided her hair, Isabel felt spiritually defeated as she looked back in Jovonka’s direction.

“Jovonka, look into my eyes if you say that this man can take care of all of us, including Elena. Promise me he will never leave our little sister out of his sight. Do you understand me? Because if he cannot do a simple task, I swear Jovonka with my soul he will have to deal with me and I know you won’t allow that. Deal?” Isabel said with a cold and serious stare as Jovonka stopped combing her hair midway.

As Jovonka recognized that familiar death stare of her older sister, she knew Isabel was very serious. Not wanting to see that same incident happen after she came back from that old pervert that she stayed with. It was very frightening Jovonka knew how powerful and sinister Isabel can actually be.

It was one night when everyone was fast asleep, except for Jovonka. She noticed that Isabel and her mother were gone. So, as her curiosity got the best of her, she looked for them. And as she walked her way into the dark, chilly night, with only a little lantern with her. Jovonka finally found Isabel and her mother deep within a forest close to where the circus camp was. She could still remember those chanting words that Isabel and her mother would say in unison. And as she quietly approached them and hid behind some big rocks, she then continued to listen and watch as their ritual became more nerve-wracking.

Both Isabel and her mother were fully naked as they spoke and chant in an unknown tongue that Jovonka couldn’t yet understand. As they danced and twirled around the campfire, Enrieta then brought out a live crow with its wings tied together. Isabel ignited some herbs and weeds on a small brown cup while she continued to chant, but more loudly. Her mother then brought a small knife out of her small black satchel. And as Enrieta raised the knife up above her head, she then split open the crow’s small body, exposing both its organs and blood. Enrieta then poured out the cross blood on another small brown cup and once it was full, she handed it to Isabel.

As Isabel grabbed the cup in between her hands, she then covered her body with the crow’s blood from head to toe. While Jovonka continued to overlook behind the rocks, she felt an icy chill running down her spin.

“Let the devil do its work and bring death to the one that brought you harm,” Enrieta said in Romania as she marked a symbol against Isabel’s chest.

Jovonka recognized the symbol clearly, knowing that it was the mark of death. As Enrieta continued to chant more loudly, Isabel, then laid on the cold muddy ground. And as she closed her eyes for a moment or so, her eyes burst wide open as her eyes now became black as the dark. Her body then levitated in the air as Enrieta raised her hands as she slowly chanted in a more eerie manner.

As Isabel’s body stopped in the middle of the air and everything went so quickly that Jovonka gasped at what she witnessed next. Isabel’s body was in a swift, had her arms and legs bent backward, hearing a crack along with it. And suddenly everything went silent, for only the sound of the wood cracking from the campfire was heard. A second or so later Isabel then started to slowly float down as Enrieta then gently grabbed her body and placed her gently on the ground.

“Isabel, my child, hear my voice and come back to me,” Enrieta said as she cleansed her body with the brown cup with the burning herbs and weeds.

A moment later Isabel then woke up and her eyes now turned back to normal. As she slowly sat up from the ground, Enrieta then let out a sigh of relief, feeling at peace that her daughter was awake.

“Mother, he’s he is dead now. I… I never thought I could do something like this. But now I know what I can do to people like him,” Isabel said as she felt the cool breeze against her body.

“He is someone that you shouldn’t worry about anymore, my love, but you now know what you can do with these special abilities,” her mother said as she smiled back at her oldest daughter.

From that night on, Jovonka has never forgotten about Isabel’s power to kill anyone if they ever mess around with her or her family.

“Jovonka, hey do you understand me? Do we have a deal?” Isabel said after the third time, making Jovonka back into the present.

“Oh yes, I’m sorry Isabel, it’s just I know what you mean. And I know what you mean about Alfie if he cannot do so, then… he is yours to do your bidding,” Jovonka said uneasily.

Isabel quickly recognized that face for she could feel her sister’s heart feel nervous and eager to the core.

“Jovonka I know you love him very much but you understand that I still don’t fully trust him but if he proves he means well and is someone to be depended, then I won’t do anything that’ll break your heart,” Isabel said as she now finished the last braid on Elena.

“Thank you, Isabel, they look wonderful as ever,” Elena said as she look herself in the mirror, flopping her braids from side to side.

Jovonka was still combing her long hair while she got lost in her thoughts about Alfie. She felt overwhelmed by the whole idea, knowing what consequences could actually happen. She also worried about how Novel would react to all of this ordeal. But Jovonka knows he would not allow her to go back with Alfie.

“Alright now we should get going then come on Elena it’s time to head to school,” Isabel said as she straightened out Elena’s small white dress for the third time already.

It was decided sometime later, after Alfie and Jovonka talked again three nights ago. Alfie convinced Jovonka that Elena should start going to school. Promising her, he will take her and bring her back after she finishes school. Jovonka was skeptical at first, not knowing that it was a good idea to leave Elena all alone with other people. Alfie reassures her that Elena will be fine and that he will have some of his men stay and patrol around the school until Elena is out.

“I just… I don’t want to see her taken away, Alfie. It worries me that Gustovo and possibly Sabini’s men could be anywhere at any moment. What if they’re already here and we just don’t know it yet?” Jovonka said in a worried tone, not wanting to know the many terrible possibilities.

Alfie gently took hold of Jovonka’s right hand while he cupped her left cheek with the other as they both looked into each other’s eyes.

“Jovonka, it’ll be alrigh’ my love. I promise you I’ll keep an eye on Elena. As long as I’m around with you and your sisters, you’ll be safe under my wings and eyes no matter what alrigh’?” Alfie said as he placed his hands on both of her cheeks as he kissed her forehead.

“I trust you with all of my heart, Alfie. Thank you for doing this for us and for me. I still can’t understand why you picked me and no one else?” Jovonka said, still gazing back at Alfie’s blue eyes.

“Because you're somethin’ special to me, my little rose. Your different beautiful a wonder and most of all my ligh’ that’ll guide me in this world. My heart also beats for only yous when you’re around or when I think about you as well,” Alfie said as he took her small lips against his, feeling that intimate vibration between them.

After that night Jovonka did ended up taking Elena to school the next morning still fearing for her little sister’s safety. But once they got to the front of the school, Alfie was there to greet them and Jovonka then felt relieved and relaxed. As of now, Elena has enjoyed being at school, made a new friend, and would always speak non-stop about how wonderful her teacher is. It made Jovonka and Isabel feel glad to see Elena this free and alive. Novel, however, still wasn’t so convinced about Alfie helping the girls out.

After Jovonka brushed down her now untangled hair, she then tied her hair back into a mid ponytail. As the three girls walked their way down the street towards the school, Elena, then skipped and hum along the way. Once they made it to the school, Alfie was already there to greet them again and, to Elena’s excitement, Cyril was there.

“Cyril, I miss you so very much,” Elena said as she ran up to the big mutt as she then embraced him in a tight hug.

Jovonka and Isabel smiled at this adorable scene as they walked from behind. Jovonka then caught sight of Alfie’s gaze. She smiled as she stood next to his side, feeling warm inside.

“Elena seems quite happy to see Cyril, yea? And good mornin’ to you ladies, it is good to see yous all again,” Alfie said as he took his hat off out of respect.

“It is also nice to see you again as well Mr. Solomon’s I see that your men there are ready to watch over Elena again,” Isabel said nodding her head towards the two men waiting inside his black car.

“Yes, they will as always righ’ will watch over Elena, as I have been promising this whole time. Me men also know the consequences if they break any of me rules,” Alfie said as he looked back at Elena, still patting Cyril, with the big dog now laid over his back.

“I am trusting you very much, Mr. Solomon’s and again thank you for doing this for us. I can’t imagine if we ever went back to the circus,” Isabel said as she look back at Jovonka.

“She will be fine Isabel. I already told you Alfie here has been protecting us at all costs. While he’s around with us to keep us safe, there will be nothing that will harm us. And you should see that by now,” Jovonka said as she smiled back at Alfie.

“Very well then. I think it is time for Elena to go inside now. Elena, come along now. It’s getting late. You don’t want to go to class late,” Isabel said, looking back at the little girl still petting Cyril on the stomach.

“Awww, but Isabel, I want to stay with Cyril for a little longer,” Elena said as she gently hugged Cyril by the neck.

“No buts young lady, get inside already. Come along now,” Isabel commanded as she crossed her arms together, giving her a stern look.

“Elena, how about this. After you come out of school, we can take Cyril for a stroll on the beach. I promise you that if you go inside for me pleasw?” Jovonka said as she knelt down in front of her little sister.

Elena then just nodded her head as she stood up on her feet while she patted Cyril one last time. As the ringing of the bell rang, Elena heard her name being called out. And to her joy, it was her friend Violet waiting for her at the gate. As she said her ‘goodbyes’ to her sisters and Alfie, as she walked her way to her friend. And as both girls went inside the school, Jovonka became anxious, not wanting to leave her little sister alone again.

“Are you alrigh’ my little treacle?” Alfie asked as he looked at Jovonka, knowing that something wasn’t quite right.

“Yes, I am fine, Alfie. It’s just I’m worried about everything you know. I just feel that Gustovo’s men and Sabini’s men could be anywhere here in Margate. I fear we might end up getting caught and taken back to Camden Town, not wanting to imagine the things that could happen to us,” Jovonka said as she rested her head against Alfie’s shoulder while he rested a hand behind her lower back.

“She will be fine Jovonka, I already told you as long as I am aroun’ yea, you and your sisters are under my protection, and never want to lose a single sigh’ on any of yous. I will not let nobody touch you, especially that fuckin’ devil, alrigh’?” Alfie said, looking back into Jovonka’s eyes.

“Thank you again for doing all of this for us, Alfie really,” Jovonka said as she look back at her older sister as she nodded her head to Alfie.

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

“Any fucking sign of them at all?” Gustovo asked Lucas frustratingly for the 60th time in almost these last few months.

“Sir, we have had no luck in finding any sign of Jovonka or her sisters or even that boy Novel. We have searched every single area of this town, including Solomon’s place,” Lucas said as he nervously fidgeted his cap in between his hands.

“Well, look everywhere again. I don’t give a damn if you checked there already or not. Any word on Sabini’s men looking for them as well?” Gustovo said, as he took a long drag from his cigar.

“No sir, Sabini’s men have seen nothing yet, but actually there have been rumors going on about Sabini. He hasn’t been feeling himself lately,” Lucas said, which this made Gustovo raise an eyebrow at him.

“What do you mean by he hasn’t been feeling like himself?” Gustovo questioned as he continued to puff his cigar out.

“Well, they say that he has been getting some sort of odd and terrible dreams that he himself can’t explain when he wakes up. But he apparently mentions so many times about seeing her in his dreams,” Lucas said as Gustovo now had all of his ears and attention towards the man.

“That is very interesting there about Darby now, is it? Sabini can’t get enough of her ever since that night she went to his party.”

“But there is more sir, he has also mentioned seeing his Jewish friend in the dreams. Alfie Solomon’s being exact. Do you think he has something to do with what happened that night at Sabini’s party?” Lucas suggested to Gustovo as he got lost in his thoughts about this unexpected news.

Before Gustovo could question further to Lucas, Henry then stepped inside his office, removing his gray cap from his head.

“Excuse me for interrupting you sir but Mr. Sabini would like to see you, he said it’s very urgent,” Henry said as Gustovo just nodded his head and Henry follow his command.

“Speaking of the devil, what a coincidence that Darby is here to see me. Seems it is what you told Lucas,” Gustovo said as he to a sip from his glass cup filled with rum.

As Henry appeared again with Sabini following from behind, Gustovo then sat up from his desk chair, giving a warm welcome.

“Mr. Sabini, how do you do, my good, fine friend? How can I be of service to you?” Gustovo said as he shook hands with a very looking tired Sabini.

“It is good to see you too Gustovo, my apologies for being absent these couple of days. As you can see, I’m still a bit bruised up from that incident I had in my house. But I came here for some reasons that you can help me out,” Sabini said as he took a set across from Gustovo’s desk.

“Of course, sir, if it’s something that could be solved, I am the person you can come and help you out. And no need for you to apologize. It is quite fine, but I see that your men have been continuing to scout out for my little witch dancer and her sisters. And also that little pathetic boy that also ran off with them, which I heard they as well have found nothing either. But enough of that, so what is it you would like to tell me, Mr. Sabini?” Gustovo said as he took out another glass cup from one of his drawers, as well as a bottle of rum.

“Yes, well, speaking about your missing little Romanian princess, she has been appearing in my dreams. And that’s not all, but also my dear friend Alfie, which he is oddly been appearing in them as well. And I hoped that if there is anyone in your circus group who could help me understand these delusions?” Sabini said as he let a heavy yawn while raising his glass to his lips.

“There is actually the mother of the three missing girls that can solve your questions, Mr. Sabini. But unfortunately, she is saying that she is not taking any requests at the moment. Stupid witch whore thinks she could make her own rules. Well, she is, in fact, wrong about that,” Gustovo said with a slimy grin, making Sabini chuckle as he lit a cigarette, as he then took a drag from it.

“Good thing is that she hasn’t thought about trying to escape from your grasp. If she wasn’t here, I wouldn’t know where else to go to. But I hope she can help me solve the problems that I have. And speaking of which, did you hear about the killings that happened around Alfie’s bakery?” Sabini said as he took a sip from his cup.

“I actually have indeed. The men that I hired said they haven’t found the bodies yet. But this grew a bit suspicion towards your Jewish friend, and it made me think for a moment if he has anything to do with my missing dancer and the other girls. No offense to your friend Mr. Sabini, but Mr. Solomon’s has lately been quite silent after that incident. Seems I might have to pay him a visit to his bakery then, see if he has seen the girls or that boy,” Gustovo said as he continued to puff his cigar.

“I doubt Alfie has anything to do with all of this, Gustovo. He is, of course, a very private person. He hasn’t had a woman in many years, not since that little bitch girlfriend that ran off with someone else while he went to war. Very heartbroken he was indeed, he drank his sorrows that same night. Drunk out of mind, he was, but I’m sure he hasn’t seen or heard of her anywhere. But I like to thank you for your time in listening to me Gustovo. When can your witch see me?” Sabini said as she drank that last bit of his rum.

“First thing tomorrow in the morning, don’t you worry my dear sir, I’ll make her solve your problems. Believe me, I have my ways and she will listen,” Gustovo said with a sinister and devilish grin as Sabini dabbed his cigarette on the ashtray.

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

It was now 5 o’clock in the afternoon, as Jovonka and Elena got themselves ready to go to the beach with Alfie as she promised. Elena was looking forward to seeing Cyril, especially since she will take him for a walk on the beach. As both girls got into something a bit more comfortable, Isabel then came inside the room and sat next to Elena.

“Jovonka, are you sure about you taking Elena alone with Alfie at the beach?” Isabel questioned while helping Elena with her hair.

“Isabel, stop worrying about our safety. I told you Alfie will be there with us. He is not going anywhere, especially Little Elena. He cares about her as much as you do. In fact, Cyril is there with us, too. He’ll keep us safe while we’re at the beach,” Jovonka said jokingly, making both Elena and Isabel chuckle.

“I guess you're right, I’m sorry Jovonka, it’s just I have a bad feeling that something is coming for all four of us. And before I forget, have you’ve talked with Novel? He has been quiet lately since he knows you started to talk to Alfie again. You know he cares about you? Novel gets very nervous when you are around with him,” Isabel said as she made two small braids on each side of Elena’s head.

“No, not really, not since he got that job at the restaurant around the marketplace. I know he has been upset with me. I don’t blame him, but he also should understand that we can’t go back there. Being with Alfie is the only option we have and look what he has done for us. Novel should see that about Alfie but I guess he will never surpass his anger towards him,” Jovonka said as she adjusted her long sleeve white blouse dress, feeling glum about her relationship with Novel.

“Well, talk to him more. After all, he is your friend who has been there for you since we came to the circus. You should also remember that he is someone that you should always keep in mind besides Alfie,” Isabel said as she finally tried Elena’s hair into a high ponytail.

Jovonka just nodded her head, knowing that Isabel was right. Novel has been nothing but kind to her since the beginning. He was the only person who she could call a friend and someone that she could talk to whenever she felt down. Jovonka remembered one time ago that when she and Novel did some chores together when they were in Italy, she could swear he felt him become nervous whenever they were both alone. And now she understands it more clearly than she did for he tried to tell her he liked Jovonka more than just a friend. But that was a very long time ago and now everything is more different and this made Jovonka feel lost and confused.

“Jovonka sister, what do you think about my look?” Elena said as she twirled her little long sleeve light pink dress making Jovonka come back to her sense

“Oh, Elena, you look wonderful as always. Seems you’re ready to go take that walk to the beach then,” Jovonka said as she smiled at her little sister.

“And speaking of which Alfie is already out there waiting for you both,” Isabel called out as she looked down from their window.

“Come on Jovonka let’s go, let’s go,” Elena said cheerily as she gently pulled on her sister’s hand, not wanting to wait for a second longer.

“Hold your horses, Little Elena, we will leave soon. Are you sure you don’t want to come with us?” Jovonka said, looking back at Isabel.

“No, I’m fine. You two should get going before it gets late. After all, I might even go pay a visit to Novel to see how he’s doing. Besides, I hope he can give me another free piece of that pineapple and raspberry cake while his boss isn’t looking,” Isabel said in a teasing way, making Elena and Jovonka giggle.

“Alright then, sounds good to me and tell Novel I said hi. I hope he knows I haven’t forgotten about him. But I’ll see you soon Isabel. I’ll let Alfie know that you’ll be going out. That way he can tell one of his men to look after you and Novel if that’s fine with you?” Jovonka said, not wanting to disappoint her older sister with the request.

“Yes, that’s fine. I don’t mind it as long as his men are there to keep us safe. But please be careful out there both of you, and Elena you stay close to Alfie and Jovonka, ok?” Isabel said, looking at the now impatient little girl wanting to get going.

“I promise that I’ll be close to them, but can we go now, please?” Elena said as she opened the wooden door of their room.

Isabel just shook her head disappointingly with a smile on her face as the three girls made their way downstairs.

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

As both Elena and Cyril continued to walk along beside the seashore of the beach, Jovonka and Alfie were following behind them. The sun was now brightly setting beyond the horizon, while the cool and warm breeze blew ever so gently.

“You know Jovonka, I am thrilled to see Elena be this bright and cheerful as ever. I am startin’ to realize righ’, tha’ she hasn’ had this much freedom then you all were at the circus,” Alfie said as he took a hold of Jovonka’s right hand against his.

“Well, you’re not entirely wrong, Alfie. It also makes me feel warm inside to see her this way. It’s what a child should be like than being stuck in a never ending hellhole like the circus,” Jovonka said as she saw Elena giggling at Cyril as he scratched his back against the wet sandy beach.

Alfie chuckled at seeing Cyril acting this way, still surprised that he grew fond of the little girl, just as he did with Jovonka. Alfie then looked back in Jovonka’s direction while she was busy looking out in the distance. While she slowly closed her eyes while a smile grew on her lips, feeling at peace and relaxed. Alfie found this view lovely and the rays of the sun made her look like a goddess sent from the heavens. He still felt lucky to have found a woman like Jovonka in his life. To which at the same time he felt he still didn’t feel he deserves to have such a treasure like her in his grasp. But now that she is here right in front of his eyes, Alfie will try his best to give her and her sisters everything they deserve.

“Jovonka…?” Alfie said as he gently turned her face in his direction, making her open her eyes.

“Yes, Alfie?” Jovonka said as she gazed into his beautiful blue eyes.

Alfie then gently pressed his lips onto Jovonka’s while she caressed the back of his head with her right hand. Both of them were savoring every second and moment in between their lips.

Without them noticing, Elena then splashed a bit of seawater in their direction, making them part away from their lips.

“Hehe, come on, you two play with us,” Elena exclaimed as Cyril barked excitingly as he got his paws wet.

Jovonka chuckled at Elena’s request as she looked back at Alfie, seeing a few small drops of seawater stream down from his left cheek.

“Alfie, come on, it’ll be fun,” Jovonka suggested while nodding her head towards the sea.

“No, no, you run alon’ yea, I’ll watch you, girls, while you have your fun,” Alfie said as Jovonka crossed her arms together, giving him an arched eyebrow and smoldering in his direction.

“Alright if you say so old man,” Jovonka said as she walked her way towards Elena, seeing she has got her bottom dress all wet now.

Alfie’s eyes grew wide at what Jovonka said and, without warning, he then walked right behind her and scooped her up bridal style. Jovonka yelped in surprise at Alfie’s unexpected action, while carrying her towards the water.

“Old man eh? Seems I have to show you that’ I ain’ such an old man that you think I am yea?” Alfie said jokingly as he felt the cold water under his feet while Jovonka blushed red on her cheeks.

As Elena, Jovonka, and Cyril were busy having a good time inside the water, Alfie couldn’t help but be memorized how Jovonka and Elena were enjoying their moment. Seeing both girls be this free and bright made Alfie realize that this is something they have been missing the most. Even if they have been far away from home for so long, Alfie would like to give them a better home than ever before. Giving them everything that he will give them even if it was something small and unnecessary.

As it still lost Alfie at watching the girls splash more water at each other, Cyril then made way beside Alfie. Jovonka and Elena walked their way out of the water, now drenched from head to toe. Elena then jogged up to Cyril as the big mutt then gave kisses around the child’s small face.

“I think we should get going, Alfie. It is getting late now. I guess you have to take us back to the hotel, or I was thinking… if it’s alright we can stay at your house for tonight?” Jovonka said as she squirted some water out of her dress.

“I would love to, but your sister Isabel migh’ not take it too kindly since Elena is here with you,” Alfie said as he saw the now sleepy child on her knees while she rested her head against Cyril’s stomach.

“I guess you're right, but I’m sure Elena wouldn’t want to go back since she loves Cyril very much. Isabel shouldn’t mind it at all since I am with you and it’s best if we stay at your house. She can be very untrustworthy about you, but I know it’ll take time for her to see that you are not a threat,” Jovonka said as she untied her wet hair, feeling all heavy with water.

“I understand your sister completely but, if I was her yea, I would think the same thing. Jovonka, I think it’s better if I just take you back to your room. I just don’ want to cause more troub-.”

“Just take me back with you, please, for me and for Elena. Tomorrow morning, I will explain everything to her. I am with you and Elena is in your hands, too. I just want to be close to you. I can’t stand another night in having these nightmares anymore. Just take us back home, please?” Jovonka said, making those puppy eyes to Alfie as she placed her hands against his chest.

Alfie then just felt defeated just by the way Jovonka made those eyes. And without saying another single word, he just grunted and nodded his head. Jovonka then smiled as she placed a small kiss on his right cheek, a way for her to say ‘thank you’.

“I’ll carry Elena to the car. I hope this won’ get you into any trouble with Isabel. I tried to warn you, love,” Alfie said as he gently raised the now sleeping child in his arms, not wanting to wake her up.

“Alfie, don’t worry about it. I know my sister. She’ll understand. Come on now, let’s go home,” Jovonka said as she walked alongside Cyril with a big smile on her face.

Please don’t be mad at me for this Isabel…

✨♥️🌹✨♥️🌹✨♥️🌹✨♥️🌹✨♥️🌹✨♥️🌹✨♥️🌹✨♥️🌹✨♥️🌹✨

A/N: Thank you guys again for reading and sticking around. As always please leave a like and reblog my story it will mean a lot. I am finally getting a new job guys so that is very exciting and again I'll be trying to get back to my Mad Max story as soon as possible. Again guys thank you so much and I'll catch you later. See Ya!!!

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adashofniallandasprinkleoflunacy · 3 years

Note

Vampy come down for family dinner and help clean up like he wasn’t just defiling their daughter 10 minutes ago

Harry would rail the fuck out of her in her closet with one hand over her mouth and another around her throat, grunting absolute filth into her ear as she spills over him with muffled whines and sobbed pleas. He’d lick her clean, pull her panties and leggings back up her quaking thighs, and proceed to buckle his slacks casually while she props herself against the wall, trembling and panting.

He just leans forward and presses a chaste kiss between her sweaty brows, her skin sticky against his lips as he murmurs smugly. “I’m gonna go finish cleaning up the kitchen with your mum. Come back down after you’ve sorted yourself out, and don’t forget to wipe your makeup off. It’s smeared down your face.”

Y/N does as he says, wiping the watery steaks of mascara off her cheeks and fixing her wild hair, making sure to leave no evidence of their little escapade, lest Harry end up sleeping outside on the yard. When she finally gets back down to her living room (she takes the stairs extra carefully, her belly throbbing with each step), the vampire is sitting in the rocking chair next to her mother’s, swaying lightly as they chat away nonchalantly.

They’re laughing and gossiping, their hands occupied with all types of yarn and needles, and she always forgets that Harry had learned how to knit when he was younger. It’s so baffling to see him engaging innocently with her mom, his nimble fingers expertly working on a multicolored scarf as he does so, not sparing the piece the slightest glance due to how confident he is in his skills. The reason it’s especially startling is because those fingers had been inside her not even five minutes ago.

“So we were running around this lake near my house,” Harry explains candidly, clearly in the middle of telling a story from his past as his digits weave in and out amidst red and purple yarn, “and we were playing in the snow near the banks, which was our first mistake. My mother had told me that the snow around the shores tended to be really slushy, so if we weren’t careful, we’d end up slipping really easily. We didn’t listen, of course— what ten year old does? We were playing tag with the neighbors, and as I was chasing after Gemma, I accidentally shoved her a bit too hard and she slipped and fell right into a pile of muddy snow. Completely stained everything she was wearing.”

Her mom releases a disappointed hiss, giving him a sympathetic glance over the glasses perched on the bridge of her nose. “Poor thing.”

Harry nods in agreement, looping yarn over his needles as he extends the scarf over his lap for more space, continuing his labor. “My mum grounded me for a week, and I spent that entire time learning to knit so I could remake Gemma’s mittens, since I was the one that ruined them. It was a fair punishment, honestly, and I ended up liking it more than I thought. Plus, the mittens I made were way better than the original pair. You just can’t buy this type of talent anywhere.”

The older woman laughs boisterously at his self-absorbed joke, which results in Harry smiling to himself proudly, giggling along.

Y/N clears her throat softly, leaning against the archway that leads into the room and crossing her arms over her chest in a relaxed manner, quirking an eyebrow at both of them as she makes her presence known. “Having fun?”

Harry glimpses over at her, his eyes raking down her body to where she’s clasping her thighs tightly, irises gleaming with knowing condescension. “Loads.”

“Harry was just telling me about when he learned to knit!” Y/N’s mother chirps, sending a warm smile towards the boy sitting across from her, unaware of the fact that he’d been defiling her daughter not too long ago. “It’s not often that you find a young man with this type of interest. He’s a keeper, sweetheart.”

“Hear that?” The immortal gloats teasingly, wagging his brows playfully as he holds up his unfinished accessory. “I’m a keeper.”

“Mm.” His girlfriend hums sarcastically, rolling her eyes towards the ceiling to avoid giving him any satisfaction. “I bet you’re just loving all this praise, aren’t you?”

Harry whistles lowly, tutting in a chastising fashion. “Someone’s jealous.”

Y/N rectifies her posture, an appalled expression cracking over her features. “Am not!”

“Are to.”

“Am not.”

“Are to.” Harry insists doggedly, looking over at the older woman for support. “Isn’t she?”

Her mom studies her for a moment, clicking her tongue scoldingly. “I think maybe you are, honey. Just a bit.”

Harry cranes his head back towards Y/N, sticking his tongue out mockingly behind the woman’s back and scrunching up his face comically, flaunting his childish point.

“Plus, Harry was sweet enough to make you that scarf he’s working on. You should be more grateful.”

Harry softens his eyes dramatically, sugaring his voice into a honeyed drawl that only she can read through. “Yeah, Y/N. I’m going out of my way to make you this nice gift, and that’s the thanks I get?”

“Dickhead.” The girl grumbles pettily, shifting on her feet as she glowers at him.

Her mother glares at her accusingly. “Language! I taught you better than that!”

“Mm. You should be more careful with what you say; words hurt more than you know.” Harry tacks on with a snide grin, shrugging his brows daringly as he slips an innuendo into his next line. “Mouthing off like that could get you into a whole lot of trouble.”

The pit of her tummy throbs at his curtained challenge, her eyes narrowing as she bites back the urge to curse him out again. “Thanks for the moral advice, Aristotle, but I’m grown enough to face the consequences of my own actions.”

Harry slowly puts down his knitting needles onto the small table beside him, picking up the scarf laying across his thighs and rolling it out in its entirety. It’s now that she realizes the item is much too thin width-wise to be scarf— it looks more like a belt, similar to the strap used to tie off a robe. The vampire flickers his gaze over to Y/N’s mom to make sure she’s not watching, and once he sees the lady is once again preoccupied with her knitting, he trains his attention back onto his partner.

He lifts the long colorful band up to his neck, tying one end around his throat loosely and wrapping the excess length around his knuckles, giving the article a symbolic tug. Y/N’s cheeks burst with heat at the crude reenactment, suddenly coming to terms with what he’s actually created under the guise of a harmless statement piece: it’s a makeshift collar.

Harry watches her avidly, a sinister smirk carving his dimples into place once he sees she’d understood his implication. He yanks the leash from around his neck swiftly before he gets caught, rolling the material back up neatly to disguise it. He cocks his head to the side conceitedly, his accent slathered with the same amount of arrogance as his gesture. “You never know, dove. Sometimes the consequences might be too much for you to handle.”

#ysijwa!ask #ysijwa!blurb

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wulfnerd · 2 years

Text

Full Moon Ficlets 2022

[Challenge Blog] [Tag] [AO3]

#475, Lizard

If I Could Talk to the Animals, sterek, t, 630w ◌ Derek makes a small mistake that he fears he’ll never hear the end of.

#476, Movie

Baby, You’ve Got My Heart (Do I Have Yours?), sterek, m, 1000w ◌ A small misunderstanding is resolved, a movie is enjoyed, and some fun is had.

#477, Kidnap

And I Saw Your Face, sterek, t, 620w ◌ Stiles suffers a minor injury and nearly loses everything.

#478, Fly

dreaming and soaring, sterek, t, 1040w ◌ Derek and Stiles fly to a conference.

#479, Reverse

Reversal of Fortune, sterek, t, 920w ◌ Derek experiences a dreadful morning that quickly becomes one of the best of his life.

#480, Date

Tricky Picky Pixie, sterek, t, 1050w ◌ Stiles has planned the perfect date for a proposal. Sadly, his plan didn’t account for the faeries.

#481, Flood

as long as you’re with me, sterek, t, 710w ◌ They’ve lost a home. Only, that’s not true. Is it?

#482, Resurrection

Can't Outrun the Past, sterek, t, 1680w Temporary MCD ◌ It’s been a quiet year without any disturbances. Derek’s rebuilding the Hale house. And Stiles is preparing to propose. Of course, this is when everything changes

#483, Bunny

Good Lil' Bunnies, sterek, t, 850w Blood, Mild Gore ◌ An extraordinary pet is given during the Hale-Stilinski twin's coming of age gifting ceremony.

#484, Sprint

flying at the speed of sound (hand in hand), sterek, t, 1770w ◌ The three times Derek saw Stiles sprinting almost entirely naked, plus the one time he was with him, and they both were.

#485, Lake

Midnight at the Lake, sterek, e, 1230w Tentacles/Tentacle Sex ◌ Derek Hale’s at a summer camp for weres when he hears about a deadly creature and decides it’s his duty to protect everyone.

#486, Snake

snake in the box, sterek, t, 1830w ◌ Derek’s life is altered for the better when he chances upon something very peculiar on his run in the Preserve.

#487, Temple

Build Your Temple Anew, sterek, t, 1820w ◌ Stiles ventures somewhere he hasn’t been in years, giving cautious hope to survivors of a tragedy.

#488, Space

To Dream of Stars, sterek, t, 1460w ◌ Derek Hale has always wanted to visit space. He finally gets to fulfil that wish. Meeting Stiles is just a bonus.

#489, Ear

The Better to Hear You With, sterek, t, 1500w ◌ Derek is sensitive about his ears. 3+1

#490, Bed

you in my bed, sterek, m, 2950w ◌ Stiles and Derek arrive at a special summit. There may be a little problem with their reservation.

#494, Beer

Pitcher Perfect, sterek, t, 1100w ◌ An unwelcome visitor disturbs Derek’s day. He ensures his mate’s safety, and they take a moment to enjoy being together.

#495, Zoo

you ran away (I can see your pain), (Pre-Mates) sterek, t, 1720w ◌ Stiles learns about the existence of werewolves very differently when Kate decides to taunt Derek instead of watching the fire.

#497, Distant

please don’t pull away, sterek, t, 790w ◌ Derek tries not to make assumptions.

#498, Sacred

make me real, sterek, t, 1000w ◌ Stiles has an eventful and informative morning with a very distracting wolf. Man. Werewolf.

#499, Heart

in the dark (no one’s listening), sterek, t, 1480w Mild Horror ◌ A child goes missing in the Preserve, and Jordan’s rescue attempt reveals something more sinister is happening. The Hale pack tries their own luck at helping.

#500, Centennial

rise to the bait, sterek, t, 780w ◌ Noah Stilinski plays matchmaker. Stiles doesn’t make it easy.

#501, Espresso

Caffeine Arguments, sterek, m, 1090w ◌ The new school year sees a new addition to the teachers’ lounge and a new principal. Stiles is excited for both.

#502, Soccer

Baby, I’ve Got Some Bad News, sterek, t, 800w ◌ Eli comes home with papers that need signing. It’s a shock to Stiles and Derek.

#503, Passion

that looks uncomfortable, sterek, t, 630w ◌ Stiles has some notes for Kira’s latest work in progress.

#504, Drink

Wake Up, I Need You Beside Me, sterek, t, 1530w Blood, Violence ◌ A night of celebration after eliminating a threat takes a turn.

#505, Shake

The Perfect Blend, sterek, t, 1230w ◌ The key to obfuscating the truth is to be so unsubtle that no one thinks you’re really hiding. OR The three times someone witnesses Derek and Stiles’ shake routine—without knowing their dating—and the one time Derek notices something about it himself.

#506, Blind

Hot Neighbour Saviour, sterek, t, 1050w ◌ Stiles nearly burns down his place, makes a bold move, is quickly rewarded for it, and then has to deal with the consequences.

#507, Pyre

Fallen Mother, sterek, t, 860w ◌ Everyone gathers after a death in the Hale family.

#509, Cup

Left in Pieces, sterek, t, 730w ◌ Derek’s morning is ruined, but the Sheriff comes to the rescue.

#510, Murder

One More Chance, sterek, t, 700w ◌ Stiles tries his hand at the PI thing. It doesn’t go very well.

#511, Universe

Seeing You Again, sterek, t, 1300w ◌ Stiles thinks the universe is out to get him. It turns out to be a pair of matchmakers.

#512, Queen

Take A Chance with Me, sterek, t, 830w ◌ Derek’s working on a Jeep when he’s interrupted.

#513, Butterbeer

A Pottercularly Perfect Night, sterek, g, 540w ◌ Derek has a tiring day and work and spends time with his family to relax.

#514, Snowflake

Kiss Me Tender, sterek, t, 1180w ◌ A miscast spell allows Derek a kiss with Stiles.

#515, Celebration

Sweet Grandchild of Mine, sterek, t, 420w ◌ The Sheriff takes a break from the delivery room and encounters a hunter.

#516, Eve

Coffee Shop Christmas Party, sterek, t, 1050w ◌ Stiles works on Christmas Eve, and a secret puts strain on a relationship.

#517, Amnesty

Thrown Tomatoes and a Picnic, sterek, t, 500w ◌ Stiles surprises Derek with lunch in the park.

#writing list

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crashingmeteorz · 4 years

Text

it’s the ba sing se bimbos, back again (jinjetsongko). here’s some stupid stunts these ridiculous kids would pull:

mixing the dangerous herbs and serums song and her mother have. they all get accidentally high one day. fortunately they do it at zuko’s apartment, so when iroh comes home and finds them tripping he just gives them calming tea and amuses himself by asking them philosophical questions.

“what is the meaning of life?” iroh asks them. “fruit pies,” song says very seriously. “FREEDOM!!” jet roars. “being the sexiest person in the room at all times,” jin says. zuko says nothing, because he’s too busy crying and hugging iroh and telling him he loves him.

“what do you think the meaning of life is, mushi?” song asks. “life is what you make of it,” iroh tells them. “personally, i find meaning in doing what i love, and spending time with the people i love. this evening, for example, is very meaningful to me.”

of course, since none of them have fathers, they all join zuko in crying and telling iroh they love him.

at some point, jin adopts a wild injured pygmy puma, who she calls sho, and is furious that he takes an immediate liking to zuko over her.

sho becomes their mascot, and also a fat lazy house cat since they all pamper him endlessly, but one day he goes missing.

they track him down to a butcher shop (similar to the one momo almost got chopped up in), release all the live animals, and somehow manage to set a fire in the process. song and jet assume between the grease and the heat and the commotion, it was bound to happen. but jin caught zuko’s look of rage when he saw sho crying in a cage. she knows who started the fire.

she’s not a snitch, though, and obviously she’s glad to have her pet back, so jin just keeps up the whole grease fire thing. plus, zuko’s such an awkward dweeb that she figures he really needs his some kind of deep dark secret to stay even A Little Bit Cool, so she lets him have it.

they don’t really stir the attention of the dai li since they mostly cause (and sometimes solve) problems in the lower ring, and while zuko and song are happy to fly under the radar, this just infuriates jet and jin. they want attention, damn it!

so they end up planning increasingly ridiculous heists in the upper ring. jewelry store underpaying their laborers? robbed and tagged as a scam. fancy government official is selling secrets to the fire nation? so sad, too bad, the guy goes missing but he leaves a chopped-off finger behind. children are being stolen and sold to wealthy buyers in the upper ring, eager to show off their “rescued” babies? the whole thing is exposed and kids are reunited with their families.

somehow, they still only barely get the dai li’s attention (probably because they’re too busy keeping tabs on the avatar). zuko has a talk with jet about thinking things through. this is the only thing that gets jin and jet to chill out because ZUKO using words like “irrational” and “risky” seriously is the wake-up call of the century.

(at this point, i could see the story going one of two ways: 1. life continues as normal for the friends, and jet learns his lesson, or 2. jin backs off but jet continues to go bigger and more extreme until he gets kidnapped by the dai li. he thinks he has a plan, until he gets brainwashed.)

(song, zuko, and jin notice primarily because he disappears for a bit. this isn’t unheard of, but as the days creep into a week they get worried. when he comes back, he’s just...weird. it’s definitely worth investigating. song and her mother use some herbal medicine to clear jet’s mind, and discover just how sinister the dai li is. obviously, they have to get revenge and figure out what’s going on. maybe they even run across a certain lost bison on their trip to lake laogai.)

other (happier) shenigans include: visiting the zoo and all of them being soft for the animals, accidentally starting a self-defense club for kids in the lower ring, and separately meeting different members of the gaang.

song meets katara while they’re both out at the market, and, in proper teenage girl fashion, they compliment each other’s outfits. they chat by the fruit for a while, song mentions how dealing with teenage boys can be annoying and katara’s just like tell me about it! then katara mentions she’s a healer, and obviously she and song geek out over techniques and medicines they can both use to supplement their efforts in the future. it’s a very wholesome encounter.

jin meets sokka and flirts her butt off. he’s funny and cute and a little awkward, but he tells her he’s got a thing with another girl. jin tells him she’s very lucky, and he says “actually, i’m the lucky one, she’s the leader of the kyoshi warriors!” and jin just flips out. the kyoshi warriors are her heroes. she used to want to run away and join them. holy shit dude DO YOU KNOW HOW COOL YOUR GIRLFRIEND IS??? and sokka’s just like i know! she’s amazing! and they spend half an hour talking about suki.

zuko meets toph, who vaguely recognizes his voice, but never really got an explanation about who he was, and since his uncle’s really cool, she doesn’t really care about the incident in the ghost town. zuko was so distraught over iroh at the time that he had barely even noticed toph (plus, even if she does look kind of familiar, that extremely powerful earthbender couldn’t have been a 12-year-old blind girl, right? right??) she compliment iroh’s tea-making ability, but admits she doesn’t really get the art herself.

“thank you!” zuko says, because someone else gets it - it’s just tea! then he blushes a little at his outburst and gets back to work. she chats with iroh some more before thanking him for the tea and leaving, and zuko lowkey thinks she’s really funny, and as she leaves she says “it was nice to see you again, mushi! well. hear you. i can’t see anything.” and zuko cracks up in spite of himself. (once zuko joins team avatar, their disaster-rich-kid-solidarity comes out in full force).

jet meets aang (again) but it’s via the graffiti he paints on the walls of the upper ring. it says stuff like “division is oppression” and “mr. earth king, tear down this wall!” and aang replies whole-heartedly, with something like “that’s what i’ve been saying! also this place is weird. have you lived here long? i’m aang bumi. i am called bumi. after the famous king. not the earth king. the other one. most importantly, i am not related to the avatar at all.”

i imagine sokka helped him write it, and since we all know they go into Stupid Mode when they’re together there’s a lot of crossed-out lines and rewrites.

jet responds by talking at length about the “resistance”, and aang’s just like “oh cool! power to the people! but also peace and love!” and jet thinks it’s dorky but he also is like “oh my god this kid is so stupid. when i find this idiot child i am going to teach him to about the revolution and then i’m going to protect him with my life.”

i like to think they all join team avatar, eventually, but the first meeting is just:

katara: song! why are you with zuko?

song: zuko? no, this is jet.

sokka: no, that’s jet! THATS zuko! he’s the prince of the fire nation!

jin, knowing full well zuko’s a firebender and suddenly panicking: he’s the what

jet: you think LEE is the prince of the fire nation? he couldn’t even lead this friend group.

toph: are we talking about mushi’s nephew?

aang: who the heck is mushi???

song: excuse me, all due respect, because you’re the avatar and it’s an honor, but please don’t talk about mushi in that tone.

sokka: oh it’s an hONOR IS IT????

zuko: (banging his head against a wall)

credit for this au as always to the awesome @azenkii

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 masterpost

#they are officially #the ba sing se bimbos #jin #jet #song #zuko #jinjetsongko #atla #my stuff

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thelittlestspider · 2 years

Text

i was tagged by @encrucijada. thank you for tagging me. it was a lot of fun, and i was thinking about making more for my other wips as well.

(open tag)

#slasher wip tag #the house at lake sinister tag #blackwood school wip tag #carry me to places i have never traveled tag

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skullrock · 4 years

Text

the campers, chapter two - Steve x Reader

gif by @harringtown

chapter two: the trainee

series summary:Steve gets a job as a camp counselor at Camp Know Where, intending on using the summer to discover himself. When things start to go wrong at camp, the only people that can help him are the Party, Hopper, and his mortal enemy - you. [Enemies to lovers, angst, fluff, hurt/comfort]

chapter summary: Steve gets in the swing of things quickly, much to your dismay.

warnings: swearing!

word count: 2.7k

a/n: you can catch up on the series here! hope you enjoy this chapter!

===

Dustin and Steve are luckily paired into the same cabin, but they have different rooms. Steve’s roommate isn’t in when he goes to drop off his things, but Dustin assures that the man, Nico, is a cool dude.

“Not as cool as you though, Steve,” Dustin says, giving him a firm pat on the back. Steve smiles slightly and nods, appreciating the sentiment. Especially after being blasted by you.

“Are you going to tell me what’s up with you and Y/N?”

“No,” Steve says curtly, shutting and locking his room.

Dustin waits a few moments to see if Steve will fess up, but he doesn’t. Actually, Steve sets his jaw tightly, making Dustin even more curious. “I guess you guys don’t like each other, huh?”

“No,” Steve says again. He runs a hand through his hair. “Well - she doesn’t like me.”

“She knew you as Asshole Steve?”

Steve sighs heavily. “Yeah. She knew me as Asshole Steve.”

Dustin shrugs as they start to make their way to their orientations. “You’ll just have to show her how you changed, that’s all.”

Steve scoffs and shakes his head. “It doesn’t even matter.”

Dustin knows he doesn’t mean that, but he stops prodding for answers.

They continue their walk down from the cabins to the activity center, filled with classrooms, the cafeteria, and research labs. Steve enjoys the area already, happy to see the sun glistening off of the lake and the large hemlocks and oaks. The wind smells like pine and juniper, even in the summer, relaxing Steve’s mind. The woods do scare him now, there’s no denying that. But these aren’t the sinister woods behind his house in Hawkins. These woods are welcoming and cheery, bright and charming. Steve loves the open fields for archery and tag, the courts for basketball and tennis. He decides he’d really like to help out with the intramurals, giving up on the science aspect before even getting the chance to explore it.

Steve’s train of thought is derailed when he hears a sweet voice call out, “Dusty-bun?”

Dustin turns on his heel, a smile spreading widely across his face. He runs to meet her halfway, picking her up and twirling her. The girl laughs happily, and they kiss for a moment before Steve clears his throat. “Is this Suzie?”

“It’s Suzie,” Dustin says, sighly happily. “Suzie, this is Steve.”

She extends her hand and Steve takes it, surprised by how firm her grip is. She’s alright, Steve thinks. She’s got this Mormon vibe going on, but her smile is bright and her personality is welcoming. Steve’s happy to find out that Suzie is an actual person, and while she has no Phoebe Cates in her at all, she’s a perfect match for Dustin.

Steve third wheels as they continue to walk towards the activity center, again being pulled back to his thoughts. His mind falls on what you’d said earlier.

It feels like a rock sits in his gut when he thinks about camp when he was younger. He knows he was an asshole, he can feel it in his bones. He knows he hung out with Tommy H. and some other dickheads, and he has glimpses of memories of tripping, pushing, and pranking. But he really doesn’t remember a lot. He’s not sure if he’s from the concussions or because he willed those thoughts out of his memory - but they aren’t there. Only insignificant ones remain. Like how his bedsheets in his cabin were blue and red plaid; how he would wake up at 7:15 to take a walk before Tommy would wake up; he even remembers the bitter taste of the orange juice hitting his tongue at breakfast. It’s like his mind zeroed in on the insignificant things so that the hurtful memories stay in the back of his mind, sitting like a cobra, waiting to strike.

The trio arrives at the activity center.

“I’ll see you tonight, Steve,” Dustin says. “Don’t worry - you’ll do great.”

“Yeah, thanks,” Steve mumbles, anxiety twisting in his gut. “Nice to meet you, Suzie.”

She smiles brightly and starts off, but Dustin stays behind. “Hotter than Phoebe Cates, right?”

Steve forces a smile and nods, giving him a thumbs up. “You really did it, man.”

Dustin winks and walks away, leaving Steve alone and sweating bullets. He hates being alone - he can’t stand being by himself anymore. Especially now that he knows you’re on the loose here, probably plotting some sick pranks. But he forces himself to move his feet up to the orientation check in.

“Name?” a man with the nametag Josh asks.

“Uh, It’s Steve. Harrington.”

He gets his bundle - a nametag, a hat just like Dustin’s, a few lime green and yellow Camp Know Where shirts (reading LEADER on the back), a drawstring bag, some pens, and a notebook. Steve forces himself to not make a face at the shirt - it’s disgusting and it will certainly ruin his chances with the ladies. He’ll wear it - he’s just not happy about it. And, besides, the first girl he interacted with at camp nearly bit his head off, so maybe he shouldn’t be so worried about his chances. Maybe he should be worried about not fucking up this time.

He takes a seat in one of the large lecture halls, sitting as far away from everyone as possible. Nearly everyone who walks in waves at him and sits close, making Steve clench his fists and bounce his legs. He literally does not remember how to be social - it’s like a second language that he forgot. It pains him that he can’t strike up conversations like he used to, but those around him help.

“Hi, I’m Kara,” a girl his age says, sitting down right next to him. “Who are you?”

Steve blinks. “Oh - I’m Steve.”

She reaches out and shakes his hand, smiling. “You’re new, right?”

“Is it that easy to tell?”

Kara laughs. “Don’t worry, Steve - you’ll get the hang of the flow soon enough.”

Okay, maybe he does have a chance with some ladies.

You come into the room, eyes searching for Steve. You see your buddy Kara talking to him and you curse under your breath. She’s not supposed to be friends with him - she’s probably going to try to bone him in the next week, too, and you don’t want that either. You march up to Josh, the leader of leaders, and pull him down to your level. “You cannot - you will not - pair me with Steve Harrington.”

Josh’s brows furrow and he looks up at Steve, remembering him from earlier. “What, you scared of that dork?”

You groan and roll your eyes. “He was such an asshole to me - we used to go to camp together. He made my summers hell, Josh. I can’t be around him.”

Josh pauses and shrugs. “Okay, no problem, I’ll pair him with someone else.”

You sigh in relief and take a seat at the front, where a panel of veteran counselors sit. You try to be social, but the bile keeps rising from your stomach to your throat. You feel sick. You feel like this summer is going to be an absolute nightmare. And while you’re so far beyond who you used to be - that kid who couldn’t even look people in the eye - you’re scared that his presence will revert you back into that little girl. And it’s the last thing you want.

Josh claps his hands a while later, signalling the start of orientation. Steve shifts in his seat and pulls out his notebook and a pen. He doesn’t know shit about note taking, but he reckons he should try. You grab your notebook too, excited to learn and meet with the new folks.

“Welcome to Camp Know Where!” Josh says.

The room erupts in cheers and Steve can feel his old self creeping back in, the insult of dorks running through his head - as if he isn’t clearly one himself. But he composes himself, clapping lightly along with everyone else.

“Here at Camp Know Where, we want to create a welcoming, safe environment for our kids to explore the world through science, math, engineering, and technology.” Steve writes it down quickly, forming the acronym “SMET”, and giggling to himself.

“It’s our job as counselors to facilitate learning in a fun, positive, and energetic way. Through orientation, you’re going to meet your fellow counselors, learn some things, and find a designation at camp. We work with you! If you think you’d be better at doing science, we’ll help you find your place in the classroom. But if you’d like to work with intramurals, we can place you out in nature. However, we still want to make sure everyone has a good grasp at all activities, so you’ll be cycled through everything we have to offer at Camp Know Where.”

Steve writes down “science - intramurals - whatever - know it all.”

“Today, though, we’ll be doing some icebreakers, and then some brainstorming.”

The room erupts in groans, Steve’s perhaps being the loudest.

“Relax, they’re fun.” Josh beams and holds up a clipboard. “I’m going to split everyone off with a partner now. This will be your partner all through camp. You’ll do something with everyone, but your partner is like your mentor. The newer folks will be paired with someone who’s been here a while to help you get in the swing of things.”

You shift in your seat. Maybe you’ll make a new friend - maybe you’ll get along famously - it was an exciting concept.

Or, it is, until Josh calls out, “Y/N and Steve.”

The shit eating grin on his face is unimaginable. He looks down at you, smiling, eyes shining, as if to say, get over it. If you had a bat, you would have hit him with it. Your stomach sinks, it rolls, it twists. Your palms sweat, your head races, but it stays forward, eyes trained on the podium in front of you.

Steve feels the exact same, except his legs are telling him to get the hell out of there. He knows his protests will fall on deaf ears, and who would accommodate him, anyway? He rests his head in his hands as Josh continues to read off names.

“Alright, get with your partner. We’re going to play two truths and a lie!”

Phenomenal, you think. The worst icebreaker of all time, and it’s with Steve Harrington.

You push yourself up out of your seat and force your legs to move towards him, sitting down next to him but a chair away, keeping a distance. Steve’s okay with it - it actually helps him breathe.

The rest of the room fills with laughs and chatter, but you both stare in silence for a long while. Finally, Steve says, “So -”

“We aren’t friends,” you interrupt. “We aren’t friends now, we weren’t friends then, and in the future, we won’t be friends. Got it?”

Steve swallows hard and nods. Despite the dryness in his throat, he tries to apologize. “Look, I know I wasn’t nice when he were kids -”

You scoff. He continues. “But I swear to God, or whatever, I’ve changed. I’m not like that anymore. I - I don’t even hang out with Tommy. I just hang out with Dustin and this girl called Robin, you don’t know her - she’s pretty cool -”

“Save it,” you say harshly. “We can talk since it’s our job, but I don’t care about your life now, and I know you don’t care about mine.”

No icebreakers are played between you - the only thing played is an intense staring contest, which makes you angry and Steve horrified. Finally, Josh claps again, and then the real orientation begins. Josh hands out papers with scenarios on them, the goal being to brainstorm ways to demonstrate good leadership. Things like, a camper is obviously intoxicated - what do you do? and what’s the best way to improve a camper who isn’t doing well?

“Wait,” Steve says as Josh places the paper down. “Are we sw- switching partners?”

“Nope!” Josh says, popping the ‘p’. “Not yet.”

Steve wants to die.

To your surprise, Steve has some pretty phenomenal ideas for how to be a good leader. He even delves into how he would bond with the campers - he’d play sports with them, facilitate idea generating, become someone they can come to and confide in. He wouldn’t shut down their ideas, but rather help them expand on them. You think that he actually has some really good concepts.

“I just want them to trust me, you know?” he says quietly. “I want them to feel like they have a chance and that they can come to me for anything.”

You furrow your brows. “How’d you get these good ideas?”

“Dustin,” he admits, a bit sheepishly. “And some of his friends, too. They’ve helped me understand how to be better at listening and helping and understanding.”

You nod stiffly, not wanting to become too impressed with him. “Well, you have some solid ideas.”

Steve’s eyes widen and brighten. “You think?”

You shrug. “They’re not bad.”

And just like that, Steve feels like he has a purpose.

The room forms back together to go over their responses, and for the first time in his life, Steve offers his perspective in a public setting without being condescending or rude. The feeling of raising his hand was awkward and unknown, but he kept doing it, in love with the nods of support from the other counselors. Someone said he must have a knack for being a leader, and Steve beamed brighter than he had in months.

You, of course, hated it, but you had no authority to tell him to shut up. To you, it seemed fake and, frankly, out of nowhere. But you couldn’t help to agree with some of his points and ideas. You hated it.

You all break for the day at five. You practically run out of the room, gasping in the fresh air outside quickly. Josh walks past you and slaps your back, turning around to smile at you. “Have fun?”

“I will kill you.”

“Can’t wait!”

You’d lost your appetite after the hours spent with Steve, so you stay outside, sitting on a picnic bench and contemplating. You wonder if Steve is right when he says he’s changed. Past Steve would never say such things, would never even bother to put in an effort. But he was giving more of an effort than most people in that room, and it genuinely shocked you. Maybe Dustin had something to do with it - but that seemed improbable, too. The whole thing was so bizarre that it made your head spin and your knees weak.

You see Dustin heading inside and call out for him, beckoning him over. His brows furrow tightly but he walks over, sitting down across from you. “Why aren’t you eating?”

“What’s Steve’s deal?”

“Look, I hated him too,” Dustin says. “I mean, I really hated him. Like, I wanted to punch him -”

“I get it.”

“Right. But he’s changed. He got sober really fast a few years back and he hasn’t been the same since.” Dustin pauses, choosing his words carefully. “A lot of stuff has happened to him… and I think it’s changed him for the better. He’s been through a lot. He’s just trying to find himself now. That’s why he’s here.”

You sigh heavily. “You think he’s better?”

“I know he’s better.” Dustin smiles. “And that’s why I think you should give him a chance.”

“No way,” you scoff. “He never gave me a chance.”

“Shouldn’t stoop to past Steve’s level.” Dustin’s smile widens. “You’ll hurt your back.”

You roll your eyes. You don’t want this kid to be right, but you know he is.

“Just - give him a chance, please? He really deserves one. He’s my best friend… he deserves a shot.”

You sigh again. “Fine.”

===

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#steve harrington #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington fic #steve harrington au #stranger things x reader #stranger things fic #stranger things au #my fics #the campers

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wickxdangels · 4 years

Text

Travis Stoll Imagine; Dream Girl

Hello!! We are back this Monday with a Percy Jackson Imagine! I started reading the series last week and i’m currently on the third book which is so exciting! I love the Stoll brothers so making this imagine was so fun! i hope you guys like it! :) As always, I apologize if there are any spelling or grammar mistakes, please let me know! And also, thank you everyone for the support and the cute comments i’ve been getting on my other stories! I love you all xx (also, sorry i couldn’t find a better pic to place)

Pairing; Travis Stoll x Reader

Warnings; None

Request; Would write a Travis Stoll x reader who is daughter of Ares who’s Clarisse’s second in command/best friend even though they’re opposite personalities and Connor is so sick of Travis’ pining for her that he decides to get them together?

It was a bright, hot and sunny day in Camp Half-Blood; the satyrs were running in the woods playing hide and seek with the dryads, who turned into trees whenever they tried to steal a kiss from them. Young demigods runnings through the camp wearing those bright-eye-cramping orange shirts, some of the kids from the Hermes Cabin were picking up the locks from the Camp Gift Shop. It was pretty much a normal summer day like any other.

Y/n was sitting down on top of a wooden-table, cleaning and filing her sword, it was something she found relaxing and it helped to calm down her ADHD for a bit. Mid-cleaning, she felt a pair of eyes staring into her. This has probably been the fifth time she has felt it in this week alone. She quickly looked up, not finding anyone on reach staring at her, it was infuriating not knowing who those stares belonged to but she brushed it off, it was stupid to get mad at something childish like that.

“Attention, attention, campers.” The voice of Mr. D, the camp director, said as he walked close by to the campers. Lots of them stop what they were doing to look at the news he was about to say. “Today we will be playing Capture The Flag, in about two hours or so, you all know what to do, gear up and blah blah..” That earned the cheers of lots of campers, and Mr. D with a quick a wave of his hand he dismissed them as he kept walking towards the Big House, to play some pinocle perhaps, as he complained how teenagers were always so loud.

Y/n then kept filing her sword as a blonde haired and all girl walked towards her, Clarisse La Rue, her half-sister. “Did you hear that? We’ll finally get to have another reason to beat up some kids and get back our flag from the Blue team!” The girl exclaimed with a sinister smile on her lips.

Y/n simply chuckled at her words and nodded. “Indeed, sis. It’s been too long since the last time we played, that flag needs to be back on Ares’s Team.” she said as she blew on her sword, grinning at her sister as she nodded.

“C’mon, let’s go get something to eat before the game, my stomach is killing me.” Clarisse said as Y/n tagged alone.

Y/n and Clarisse were both daughters of Ares, god of war. They belonged to Cabin 5, where lots of her other half-brothers lived year-round just like both of them. Ares kids shared lots of physical attributes, like their muscular bodies and tall height, meaning all of them looked big and scary, a good pro when it came to war or simple games like the one they were about to play. But when it came to personality, both girls couldn’t be more different.

Clarisse was the designated Camp Half-Blood bully, she was the one that messed with the new campers, just like she did with Percy Jackson. She would find the tiniest of reasons to start a riot and just set the world on fire if she could, just like their father.

Y/n on the other hand, was a bit more calm. Or well, as calm as a daughter of Ares could get. She enjoyed battles, she enjoyed kicking butt from here and there but sometimes she would just get tired of the same old. She wouldn’t pick fights as much as Clarisse did, well, not now anyways. But whenever her sister needed a fighting partner she would be there without a doubt, not giving a damn who started the fight, simply being there to put up a good show.

Some feet away, behind a tree was Travis Stoll, whose favorite hobby has radically changed from picking-up locks or throwing the best pranks in camp with his brother, to spying on Y/n behind trees…or behind anything really. He saw as the girl of his dreams walked away with his most-hated-camper, who was no one else but her sister, Clarisse.

“I really can’t believe you’re still secretly pinning over her, Travis! It’s been what? Four, five years? Don’t you think it’s time to act like a big boy and tell her for once and for all?” His younger brother’s voice made him jump from his hiding spot as he turned around to face him.

“Connor! Do you have to be that loud all the time?” He cried out, grabbing his brothers shoulder as they walked out of the forests and towards their cabin. “And you know I cannot do that, she’s literally my archenemy’s sister! And best friend! Also, not to forget about her dozen of brothers with anger-issues!” Travis complained, sighing as he kicked a little rock that was in his way. “I don’t know why life has to be so hard!”

“Travis, shut up. Jeez, you’re always complaining, it’s been five years! Five of which I had to hear you whining about Clarisse and how she would maim you if you were ever to confess your feelings for Y/n…can’t we get over that? I mean, the day will come when she’ll maim you regardless of your confession or not..” His brother shrugged, placing a comforting arm around him. “Also, I have a bet going on with Pollux.. and for me to earn the money means that you’ll have to confess your feelings for her today…” Connor confessed with a grin on his lips, highlighting his elvish features who looked so much like his brother’s.

Travis stopped mid-way as he stared at his brother, a deadly stare to be exact.

“YOU DID WHAT?” He sort-of yelled at him, making his younger brother grimace a bit. “How much did you bet, though?” He slowly asked, bit interested after all, money was money.

“Around twenty drachmas and some hundred bucks..” Connor shrugged as he scratched the back of his neck. “Is that an ‘okay brother, I’ll make you win the bet’?” He curiously asked with a sheepish smile.

“Ugh, you’re so gonna share that with me. And you’re gonna do my laundry for a month! After all, I don’t know.. I might end up missing a limb..”

“You always love to exaggerate, Travis. Chill, things might turn good.” He shrugged at his older brother as he raised both of his eyebrows in a funny manner.

Two hours later, after getting something to eat and putting on their armors, the Ares cabin walked towards the centre of the camp, there the rest of their allies, Cabins Four, Nine, Ten and Twelve were already in position and armed with their respective weapons of choice.

The blue team stood on their left side, she could’ve sworn she felt the usual stare again and she just knew it came from the blue team. At least she was a bit closer to knowing who her stalker is.

“Attention Campers, let’s get this over with.” Mr. D’s voice resounded through the crowd, besides him stood Chiron, who acted as the referee and was there in case anyone needed medical help. “For tonight’s game of Capture The flag, the blue team is lead by Annabeth and Percy, who have allied with Cabins Seven and Eleven.” He rolled his eyes as he then proceeded. “And Team Red is led by Clarisse and Y/n, who are joined by the remaining cabins.” He was too lazy to mention all of the cabins but it was no surprise coming from him. “You all know the rules by now, the creek is the boundary line, and the entire forest is fair game. Magic items are permitted, killing and maiming—much to my regret—are not.” He sighed as he tiredly placed his hands on his waist.

“I’ll be close by in case anyone is in need of my assistance.” Chiron commented as he looked at the campers in front of him.

“I believe Travis will be needing your assistance later on, Chiron!” Connor joked, making some of their teammates chuckle as Travis could only blush at the statement, he looked towards Y/n, hoping she wasn’t staring at him now, but much to his luck, she was chuckling along with Clarisse who had a deadly stare at him, making him shriver.

“Yeah, yeah. Well kids, off you go now! Shoo!” Mr. D said as he waved his hands, both of the teams were now running towards the forest and the hills.

The Ares cabin took the lead of the rest of the cabins as they ran towards their different positions, some of them were on border patrol duty as other were hiding behind bushes or trees, waiting for the other campers to come by so they could jump on them.

“Y/n, guard our flag! I’ll try to steal theirs!” Clarisse grinned as she ran off towards the lake, Y/n could only chuckle as she grabbed tightly on her sword and ran towards their red flag, ready to fight anyone who came in sight.

As she ran towards the forest, she could see her brothers fighting with the other campers, or well, the enemies. Her battle reflexes came in handy when someone was about to jump on her but she swiftly avoided her, bringing her sword up as she fought a blonde-haired girl from the Athena cabin, quickly disarming her before sending her flying backwards towards a tree with a hard kick on the chest. She’ll definitely be needing some ambrosia after this, she thought.

She chuckled as she kept running, she had missed the feeling of the air hitting in her face as she ran, the way her instincts would work whenever someone was attacking her, the balanced weight of her favorite sword in her hand.

One of the guys from the Apollo cabin came after her, making her chuckle when she easily avoided one of their arrows as it landed on a tree. “That wasn’t very smart, was it?” She asked with a smirk as she then ran towards him and before he could take another arrow, she kicked the bow out of his hands. “Bad choice.” She said before bringing the sword up, the kid was quick to avoid a hit before he tripped backwards on a branch, she was about to keep fighting as one of her brothers came to her.

“I’ve got this punk! Go protect the flag!” Her brother said before she nodded and smirked at the kid.

“Well, you’re just in luck!” She winked at him before running through the forest once again, making sure to avoid any distractions on the way.

Her feet were fast as she ran, ducking whenever she saw an arrow being shot at her and jumping whenever she would meet with a camper passed out on the floor, not many minutes later and the flag was already in her sight, she came closer to it, checking her surroundings for any enemy in sight.

Not many seconds had passed when she heard some steps coming on her way, she quickly jumped on top of a tree branch hiding, she saw as a guy came close to the flag but did not grab it, instead he looked around as if searching for someone.

She then took the advantage and jumped on top of him, making him land with his back on the floor as she had him trapped between her legs. “Huh, a son of Hermes. I thought it would be one of Athena’s kid the one who would come for the flag.” She said as she brought her sword up to his face, he looked just like every other Hermes’s kid, elvish features, curly hair, tall and kind of cute.

“No! Wait! I’m not here for the flag..” He confessed, having her so close to his body made him shriver, luckily his face was already red from the game if not he would be blushing madly.

“You are aware that we are playing Capture The Flag, don’t you?” She chuckled as she stared at him, her eyes looking directly into his blue ones as he felt the shiest he has ever felt in his life.

“Y-yes, yes! What I meant it’s that, I’ve been meaning to confess you something..” He said as she stood up, holding a hand out for him as he slowly grabbed it, she pulled and helped him stand up.

“Okay, now you’re kind of creeping me out, Travis.. What is it?”

“How.. how do you know who I am?” He asked, kind of surprised she didn’t mistake him for his brother, which happened quite a lot.

“We were friends, remember? When I first got here, you were one of that befriended me. I stayed in your cabin for some weeks before Ares claimed me. We used to play pranks on the Aphrodite kids so much that you thought I was one of Hermes kid’s as well.” She said chuckling as he nodded, he remember those times. That was the time when he started to develop his current huge crush on her.

“I.. I didn’t know you remembered that.” He gave her a bright smile as he scratched the back of his neck in a shy manner, something she thought she had never seen before on any kid of Hermes.

“Of course, I do! Now, what were you going to tell me?”

“Oh! That! Well, you see—” sadly he was too slow and too immersed on their chat that he did not see Clarisse flying at him, knocking him off his feet as they rolled down on the floor.

“It was you!” Clarisse yelled as she threw some punches at him, he luckily evaded some but not all of them, so he groaned when she had delivered a square punch to his right eye.

Now that’s gonna leave a nasty bruise, he thought.

“Clarisse! What are you doing? He was gonna say something to me!” Y/n said as she ran towards them, trying to pull her sister off of him.

“It’s him, y/n! He’s the one who’s been lurking behind trees and staring at you!” Clarisse said with disgust as she stood up from top of him, delivering nasty glances at Travis.

“Oh.. so you’re my little stalker, huh?” Y/n said with a smirk on her lips as she looked at Travis, helping him stand as he slowly nodded, grabbing onto his side as he looked embarrassed.

“Okay, I’ll have to say that that wasn’t the smartest thing to do.. but yeah. It was me.” He confessed to her, giving her a little smile as she stared at him. “And besides that, what I wanted to say it’s that… I like you, like, a lot.” he said. “A crazy amount probably, and I know you may not like me back! Knowing that I’m your sister’s most hated person in this camp besides my brother.. and Percy..” he explained

“This is disgusting! Completely disgusting!” Clarisse gagged at the scene in front of her, she has always disliked the Stoll brothers even more after the little prank they pulled on her few years ago.

“I.. I’m quite shocked, actually.” she confessed, her cheeks tinting a light red but when she was about to actually reply to him, she saw how another figure behind Clarisse and Travis took the chance of the flag being unprotected and quickly snatched it.

In the background, all could hear a horn being played in signal that the game has finished.

The result? Blue team were the winners, once again.

It turns out that, Travis’s younger brother Connor, knowing that he was going to confess his feelings towards Y/n, seized the opportunity of us being entertained by his brother’s confession to grab the flag, it was all part of his plan.

Which helped to ignite even more, the hatred Clarisse had towards the Stoll brothers.

The whole game ended up quite quickly after that, with the campers of the blue team cheering for their new victory and the red team growling at them and cursing them out.

Y/n never had the chance to talk to Travis in that moment, seeing how Chiron with other campers, took the injured ones towards the infirmary to help with the wounds.

That’s when Y/n knew it was now or never. She escaped from the celebrations of the night, walking towards the infirmary to check on the wounded Stoll brother. She walked through it, looking at some of the demigods sleeping on the beds and other being taken care by Argus and some dryads. Once he saw the familiar curly hair, she walked towards it, grabbing a pack of ice a girl was carrying towards him. “I can take it from here.” she explained to the girl as she just nodded and left.

She then walked to his bed, sitting down at the edge of it and softly pressing the ice pack on his already-bruised eye. “Who knew.. that purple eye really suits you.” she softly spoke, waking up the prankster from his nap.

“Y/n? What are you doing here?” he asked as he quickly sat up, groaning from the pain as he realized it wasn’t a good idea after all with his bruised ribs.

“Clarisse really did a number on you, didn’t she?” the girl said as she softly helped him to lay down once again, slowly. “I’m sorry about that, she can be easily carried away by her emotions.”

“I really can’t believe you two are sisters, you two are nothing alike.” he said, wincing as he laid down. “You’re gentle and understanding, meanwhile Clarisse would throw a punch at literally anyone who crosses her path.”

“Well, that’s because I have never really fought with you, you know? When we are in battle, that’s when we are scary alike.” she chuckled, holding the ice pack on his eye as they talked. “So.. I never really replied to what you said to me back there.”

“You don’t really have to. I know it must’ve been silly, I just couldn’t really hold it in anymore, you know? You’re so beautiful and so strong! And you love pulling pranks on people, which is so hot! And whenever you’re fighting you’ve got this beautiful frown that—”

“Could you shut up for a second?” she said quickly before a smirk appeared on her lips. “I know I’m hot and all of that, but I just really wanted to say that… I think you’re really cute.” her smirk turned into a smile at him as she looked at him, he could’ve sworn his insides were on fire, which could’ve been due to the punches he’d got but he knew it was because of her smile. “And I would like to see where this could go..”

“Wait! You’re serious, right? This is not a prank, right? Cause that wouldn’t be so hot..” He explained making her giggle. “It’s not a prank, you dummy!” she interrupted him. “I like you, like, a lot.” she smiled, saying the exact words he had said to her back in the forest.

“Oh! Wow! I— I really, don’t know what to say! Jeez, I think I’m blushing again!” Travis confessed with his cheeks flaming red as he looked at her.

“Shh, don’t talk.. Less words and more…actions.” she smirked before laying the ice pack on the bed and slowly leaning her face against his, until their lips were touched; she was careful to grab his cheek, not wanting to hurt his purple eye as he returned the soft kiss she laid on his lips.

It was all he ever dreamed, kissing her felt like drinking ambrosia, her lips tasted so sweet. His stomach felt like the excitement he would get before pulling any prank, multiplied by a hundred. He just knew that this was it. This was all he ever wished for. This was the girl of his dreams.

That was it, until a wave or realization fell over him as she softly pulled away from him. “Oh, gods! now Clarisse is so going to murder me!”

That only made her laugh even more. “Leave her to me, she’s really not that scary, I promise.” she assured him. “Now, what did I say about talking?” she asked.

“Oh! Yes, yes. Less words, more actions, got it!” he smiled mischievously as he then pressed his lips against hers once again.

“Oh, I forgot to ask. What’s the bet Connor has goin on with Pollux about?” she asked, looking at his eyes for a bit before raising his brow.

“Oh, now you shut up. I’ll explain later, I’m badly injured and I demand more kisses.” he said with the cutest little pout she has ever seen, she rolled her eyes. “It’s just some bruised ribs.. and a bruised eye.” she joked before wrapping her arms around him and kissing him again.

#percy jackson #percy jackson imagine #travis stoll #travis stoll imagine #travis stoll x reader #percy jackson x reader #imagine #fanfic #pjo imagine #pjo #connor stoll #connor stoll x reader #clarisse la rue #demigods #cabin five #camp half-blood #olympians #reader #au

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cheese-greater-official · 3 years

Note

The Great Gatsby .. I think antibucci Summary: Literally just the great Gatsby. Nothing else here. Absolutely no changes. Definitely use this for class, or reference. The Great Gatsby is public domain now after all. Anyways here's the totally unaltered and complete book of the Great Gatsby. I swear nothing was changed, most definitely. Of course credit to F Scott Fitzgerald for writing this commentary on both his life and the world he was in. A lot of this can still relate today, so keep an open mind when reading. Notes: I'd like to preface this by saying... This is really I mean REALLY just the Great Gatsby. I swear. There is nothing going here that is out of the ordinary! Nothing at all! Chapter 1 Chapter Text Then wear the gold hat, if that will move her; If you can bounce high, bounce for her too, Till she cry “Lover, gold-hatted, high-bouncing lover, I must have you!” - Thomas Parke D'Invilliers. In my younger and more vulnerable years my father gave me some advice that I’ve been turning over in my mind ever since. “Whenever you feel like criticizing any one,” he told me, “just remember that all the people in this world haven’t had the advantages that you’ve had.” He didn’t say any more, but we’ve always been unusually communicative in a reserved way, and I understood that he meant a great deal more than that. In consequence, I’m inclined to reserve all judgments, a habit that has opened up many curious natures to me and also made me the victim of not a few veteran bores. The abnormal mind is quick to detect and attach itself to this quality when it appears in a normal person, and so it came about that in college I was unjustly accused of being a politician, because I was privy to the secret griefs of wild, unknown men. Most of the confidences were unsought — frequently I have feigned sleep, preoccupation, or a hostile levity when I realized by some unmistakable sign that an intimate revelation was quivering on the horizon; for the intimate revelations of young men, or at least the terms in which they express them, are usually plagiaristic and marred by obvious suppressions. Reserving judgments is a matter of infinite hope. I am still a little afraid of missing something if I forget that, as my father snobbishly suggested, and I snobbishly repeat, a sense of the fundamental decencies is parcelled out unequally at birth. And, after boasting this way of my tolerance, I come to the admission that it has a limit. Conduct may be founded on the hard rock or the wet marshes, but after a certain point I don’t care what it’s founded on. When I came back from the East last autumn I felt that I wanted the world to be in uniform and at a sort of moral attention forever; I wanted no more riotous excursions with privileged glimpses into the human heart. Only Gatsby, the man who gives his name to this book, was exempt from my reaction — Gatsby, who represented everything for which I have an unaffected scorn. If personality is an unbroken series of successful gestures, then there was something gorgeous about him, some heightened sensitivity to the promises of life, as if he were related to one of those intricate machines that register earthquakes ten thousand miles away. This responsiveness had nothing to do with that flabby impressionability which is dignified under the name of the “creative temperament.”— it was an extraordinary gift for hope, a romantic readiness such as I have never found in any other person and which it is not likely I shall ever find again. No — Gatsby turned out all right at the end; it is what preyed on Gatsby, what foul dust floated in the wake of his dreams that temporarily closed out my interest in the abortive sorrows and short-winded elations of men. My family have been prominent, well-to-do people in this Middle Western city for three generations. The Carraways are something of a clan, and we have a tradition that we’re descended from the Dukes of Buccleuch, but the actual founder of my line was my grandfather’s brother, who came here in fifty-one, sent a substitute to the Civil War, and started the

wholesale hardware business that my father carries on to-day. I never saw this great-uncle, but I’m supposed to look like him — with special reference to the rather hard-boiled painting that hangs in father’s office I graduated from New Haven in 1915, just a quarter of a century after my father, and a little later I participated in that delayed Teutonic migration known as the Great War. I enjoyed the counter-raid so thoroughly that I came back restless. Instead of being the warm centre of the world, the Middle West now seemed like the ragged edge of the universe — so I decided to go East and learn the bond business. Everybody I knew was in the bond business, so I supposed it could support one more single man. All my aunts and uncles talked it over as if they were choosing a prep school for me, and finally said, “Why — ye — es,” with very grave, hesitant faces. Father agreed to finance me for a year, and after various delays I came East, permanently, I thought, in the spring of twenty-two. The practical thing was to find rooms in the city, but it was a warm season, and I had just left a country of wide lawns and friendly trees, so when a young man at the office suggested that we take a house together in a commuting town, it sounded like a great idea. He found the house, a weather-beaten cardboard bungalow at eighty a month, but at the last minute the firm ordered him to Washington, and I went out to the country alone. I had a dog — at least I had him for a few days until he ran away — and an old Dodge and a Finnish woman, who made my bed and cooked breakfast and muttered Finnish wisdom to herself over the electric stove. It was lonely for a day or so until one morning some man, more recently arrived than I, stopped me on the road. “How do you get to West Egg village?” he asked helplessly. I told him. And as I walked on I was lonely no longer. I was a guide, a pathfinder, an original settler. He had casually conferred on me the freedom of the neighborhood. And so with the sunshine and the great bursts of leaves growing on the trees—just as things grow in fast movies—I had that familiar conviction that life was beginning over again with the summer. There was so much to read for one thing and so much fine health to be pulled down out of the young breath-giving air. I bought a dozen volumes on banking and credit and investment securities and they stood on my shelf in red and gold like new money from the mint, promising to unfold the shining secrets that only Midas and Morgan and Maecenas knew. And I had the high intention of reading many other books besides. I was rather literary in college—one year I wrote a series of very solemn and obvious editorials for the "Yale News"—and now I was going to bring back all such things into my life and become again that most limited of all specialists, the "well-rounded man." This isn't just an epigram—life is much more successfully looked at from a single window, after all. It was a matter of chance that I should have rented a house in one of the strangest communities in North America. It was on that slender riotous island which extends itself due east of New York and where there are, among other natural curiosities, two unusual formations of land. Twenty miles from the city a pair of enormous eggs, identical in contour and separated only by a courtesy bay, jut out into the most domesticated body of salt water in the Western Hemisphere, the great wet barnyard of Long Island Sound. They are not perfect ovals—like the egg in the Columbus story they are both crushed flat at the contact end—but their physical resemblance must be a source of perpetual confusion to the gulls that fly overhead. To the wingless a more arresting phenomenon is their dissimilarity in every particular except shape and size. I lived at West Egg, the—well, the less fashionable of the two, though this is a most superficial tag to express the bizarre and not a little sinister contrast between them. My house was at the very tip of the egg, only fifty yards from the Sound, and squeezed between two huge places that rented

rented for twelve or fifteen thousand a season. The one on my right was a colossal affair by any standard—it was a factual imitation of some Hôtel de Ville in Normandy, with a tower on one side, spanking new under a thin beard of raw ivy, and a marble swimming pool and more than forty acres of lawn and garden. It was Gatsby's mansion. Or rather, as I didn't know Mr. Gatsby it was a mansion inhabited by a gentleman of that name. My own house was an eye-sore, but it was a small eye-sore, and it had been overlooked, so I had a view of the water, a partial view of my neighbor's lawn, and the consoling proximity of millionaires—all for eighty dollars a month. Across the courtesy bay the white palaces of fashionable East Egg glittered along the water, and the history of the summer really begins on the evening I drove over there to have dinner with the Tom Buchanans. Daisy was my second cousin once removed and I'd known Tom in college. And just after the war I spent two days with them in Chicago. Her husband, among various physical accomplishments, had been one of the most powerful ends that ever played football at New Haven—a national figure in a way, one of those men who reach such an acute limited excellence at twenty-one that everything afterward savors of anti-climax. His family were enormously wealthy—even in college his freedom with money was a matter for reproach—but now he'd left Chicago and come east in a fashion that rather took your breath away: for instance he'd brought down a string of polo ponies from Lake Forest. It was hard to realize that a man in my own generation was wealthy enough to do that. Why they came east I don't know. They had spent a year in France, for no particular reason, and then drifted here and there unrestfully wherever people played polo and were rich together. This was a permanent move, said Daisy over the telephone, but I didn't believe it—I had no sight into Daisy's heart but I felt that Tom would drift on forever seeking a little wistfully for the dramatic turbulence of some irrecoverable football game. And so it happened that on a warm windy evening I drove over to East Egg to see two old friends whom I scarcely knew at all. Their house was even more elaborate than I expected, a cheerful red and white Georgian Colonial mansion overlooking the bay. The lawn started at the beach and ran toward the front door for a quarter of a mile, jumping over sun-dials and brick walks and burning gardens—finally when it reached the house drifting up the side in bright vines as though from the momentum of its run. The front was broken by a line of French windows, glowing now with reflected gold, and wide open to the warm windy afternoon, and Tom Buchanan in riding clothes was standing with his legs apart on the front porch. He had changed since his New Haven years. Now he was a sturdy, straw haired man of thirty with a rather hard mouth and a supercilious manner. Two shining, arrogant eyes had established dominance over his face and gave him the appearance of always leaning aggressively forward. Not even the effeminate swank of his riding clothes could hide the enormous power of that body—he seemed to fill those glistening boots until he strained the top lacing and you could see a great pack of muscle shifting when his shoulder moved under his thin coat. It was a body capable of enormous leverage—a cruel body. His speaking voice, a gruff husky tenor, added to the impression of fractiousness he conveyed. There was a touch of paternal contempt in it, even toward people he liked—and there were men at New Haven who had hated his guts. "Now, don't think my opinion on these matters is final," he seemed to say, "just because I'm stronger and more of a man than you are." We were in the same Senior Society, and while we were never intimate I always had the impression that he approved of me and wanted me to like him with some harsh, defiant wistfulness of his own. We talked for a few minutes on the sunny porch. "I've got a nice place here," he said, his eyes flashing about restlessly. Turning me around by one arm

he moved a broad flat hand along the front vista, including in its sweep a sunken Italian garden, a half acre of deep pungent roses and a snub-nosed motor boat that bumped the tide off shore. "It belonged to Demaine the oil man." He turned me around again, politely and abruptly. "We'll go inside." We walked through a high hallway into a bright rosy-colored space, fragilely bound into the house by French windows at either end. The windows were ajar and gleaming white against the fresh grass outside that seemed to grow a little way into the house. A breeze blew through the room, blew curtains in at one end and out the other like pale flags, twisting them up toward the frosted wedding cake of the ceiling—and then rippled over the wine-colored rug, making a shadow on it as wind does on the sea. The only completely stationary object in the room was an enormous couch on which two young women were buoyed up as though upon an anchored balloon. They were both in white and their dresses were rippling and fluttering as if they had just been blown back in after a short flight around the house. I must have stood for a few moments listening to the whip and snap of the curtains and the groan of a picture on the wall. Then there was a boom as Tom Buchanan shut the rear windows and the caught wind died out about the room and the curtains and the rugs and the two young women ballooned slowly to the floor. The younger of the two was a stranger to me. She was extended full length at her end of the divan, completely motionless and with her chin raised a little as if she were balancing something on it which was quite likely to fall. If she saw me out of the corner of her eyes she gave no hint of it—indeed, I was almost surprised into murmuring an apology for having disturbed her by coming in. The other girl, Daisy, made an attempt to rise—she leaned slightly forward with a conscientious expression—then she laughed, an absurd, charming little laugh, and I laughed too and came forward into the room. "I'm p-paralyzed with happiness." She laughed again, as if she said something very witty, and held my hand for a moment, looking up into my face, promising that there was no one in the world she so much wanted to see. That was a way she had. She hinted in a murmur that the surname of the balancing girl was Baker. (I've heard it said that Daisy's murmur was only to make people lean toward her; an irrelevant criticism that made it no less charming.) At any rate Miss Baker's lips fluttered, she nodded at me almost imperceptibly and then quickly tipped her head back again—the object she was balancing had obviously tottered a little and given her something of a fright. Again a sort of apology arose to my lips. Almost any exhibition of complete self sufficiency draws a stunned tribute from me. I looked back at my cousin who began to ask me questions in her low, thrilling voice. It was the kind of voice that the ear follows up and down as if each speech is an arrangement of notes that will never be played again. Her face was sad and lovely with bright things in it, bright eyes and a bright passionate mouth—but there was an excitement in her voice that men who had cared for her found difficult to forget: a singing compulsion, a whispered "Listen," a promise that she had done gay, exciting things just a while since and that there were gay, exciting things hovering in the next hour. I told her how I had stopped off in Chicago for a day on my way east and how a dozen people had sent their love through me. "Do they miss me?" she cried ecstatically. "The whole town is desolate. All the cars have the left rear wheel painted black as a mourning wreath and there's a persistent wail all night along the North Shore." "How gorgeous! Let's go back, Tom. Tomorrow!" Then she added irrelevantly, "You ought to see the baby." "I'd like to." "She's asleep. She's two years old. Haven't you ever seen her?" "Never." "Well, you ought to see her. She's—" Tom Buchanan who had been hovering restlessly about the room stopped and rested his hand on my shoulder. "What you doing, Nick

?" "I'm a bond man." "Who with?" I told him. "Never heard of them," he remarked decisively. This annoyed me. "You will," I answered shortly. "You will if you stay in the East." "Oh, I'll stay in the East, don't you worry," he said, glancing at Daisy and then back at me, as if he were alert for something more. "I'd be a God Damned fool to live anywhere else." At this point Miss Baker said "Absolutely!" with such suddenness that I started—it was the first word she uttered since I came into the room. Evidently it surprised her as much as it did me, for she yawned and with a series of rapid, deft movements stood up into the room. "I'm stiff," she complained, "I've been lying on that sofa for as long as I can remember." "Don't look at me," Daisy retorted. "I've been trying to get you to New York all afternoon." "No, thanks," said Miss Baker to the four cocktails just in from the pantry, "I'm absolutely in training." Her host looked at her incredulously. "You are!" He took down his drink as if it were a drop in the bottom of a glass. "How you ever get anything done is beyond me." I looked at Miss Baker wondering what it was she "got done." I enjoyed looking at her. She was a slender, small-breasted girl, with an erect carriage which she accentuated by throwing her body backward at the shoulders like a young cadet. Her grey sun-strained eyes looked back at me with polite reciprocal curiosity out of a wan, charming discontented face. It occurred to me now that I had seen her, or a picture of her, somewhere before. "You live in West Egg," she remarked contemptuously. "I know somebody there." "I don't know a single—" "You must know Gatsby." "Gatsby?" demanded Daisy. "What Gatsby?" Before I could reply that he was my neighbor dinner was announced; wedging his tense arm imperatively under mine Tom Buchanan compelled me from the room as though he were moving a checker to another square. Slenderly, languidly, their hands set lightly on their hips the two young women preceded us out onto a rosy-colored porch open toward the sunset where four candles flickered on the table in the diminished wind. "Why candles?" objected Daisy, frowning. She snapped them out with her fingers. "In two weeks it'll be the longest day in the year." She looked at us all radiantly. "Do you always watch for the longest day of the year and then miss it? I always watch for the longest day in the year and then miss it." "We ought to plan something," yawned Miss Baker, sitting down at the table as if she were getting into bed. "All right," said Daisy. "What'll we plan?" She turned to me helplessly. "What do people plan?" Before I could answer her eyes fastened with an awed expression on her little finger. "Look!" she complained. "I hurt it." We all looked—the knuckle was black and blue. "You did it, Tom," she said accusingly. "I know you didn't mean to but you did do it. That's what I get for marrying a brute of a man, a great big hulking physical specimen of a—" "I hate that word hulking," objected Tom crossly, "even in kidding." "Hulking," insisted Daisy. Sometimes she and Miss Baker talked at once, unobtrusively and with a bantering inconsequence that was never quite chatter, that was as cool as their white dresses and their impersonal eyes in the absence of all desire. They were here—and they accepted Tom and me, making only a polite pleasant effort to entertain or to be entertained. They knew that presently dinner would be over and a little later the evening too would be over and casually put away. It was sharply different from the West where an evening was hurried from phase to phase toward its close in a continually disappointed anticipation or else in sheer nervous dread of the moment itself. "You make me feel uncivilized, Daisy," I confessed on my second glass of corky but rather impressive claret. "Can't you talk about crops or something?" I meant nothing in particular by this remark but it was taken up in an unexpected way. "Civilization's going to pieces," broke out Tom violently. "I've gotten to be a terrible pessimist about things. Have you read 'The

Rise of the Coloured Empires' by this man Goddard?" "Why, no," I answered, rather surprised by his tone. "Well, it's a fine book, and everybody ought to read it. The idea is if we don't look out the white race will be—will be utterly submerged. It's all scientific stuff; it's been proved." "Tom's getting very profound," said Daisy with an expression of unthoughtful sadness. "He reads deep books with long words in them. What was that word we—" "Well, these books are all scientific," insisted Tom, glancing at her impatiently. "This fellow has worked out the whole thing. It's up to us who are the dominant race to watch out or these other races will have control of things." "We've got to beat them down," whispered Daisy, winking ferociously toward the fervent sun. "You ought to live in California—" began Miss Baker but Tom interrupted her by shifting heavily in his chair. "This idea is that we're Nordics. I am, and you are and you are and—" After an infinitesimal hesitation he included Daisy with a slight nod and she winked at me again. "—and we've produced all the things that go to make civilization—oh, science and art and all that. Do you see?" There was something pathetic in his concentration as if his complacency, more acute than of old, was not enough to him any more. When, almost immediately, the telephone rang inside and the butler left the porch Daisy seized upon the momentary interruption and leaned toward me. "I'll tell you a family secret," she whispered enthusiastically. "It's about the butler's nose. Do you want to hear about the butler's nose?" "That's why I came over tonight." "Well, he wasn't always a butler; he used to be the silver polisher for some people in New York that had a silver service for two hundred people. He had to polish it from morning till night until finally it began to affect his nose—" "Things went from bad to worse," suggested Miss Baker. "Yes. Things went from bad to worse until finally he had to give up his position." For a moment the last sunshine fell with romantic affection upon her glowing face; her voice compelled me forward breathlessly as I listened—then the glow faded, each light deserting her with lingering regret like children leaving a pleasant street at dusk. The butler came back and murmured something close to Tom's ear whereupon Tom frowned, pushed back his chair and without a word went inside. As if his absence quickened something within her Daisy leaned forward again, her voice glowing and singing. "I love to see you at my table, Nick. You remind me of a—of a rose, an absolute rose. Doesn't he?" She turned to Miss Baker for confirmation. "An absolute rose?" This was untrue. I am not even faintly like a rose. She was only extemporizing but a stirring warmth flowed from her as if her heart was trying to come out to you concealed in one of those breathless, thrilling words. Then suddenly she threw her napkin on the table and excused herself and went into the house. Miss Baker and I exchanged a short glance consciously devoid of meaning. I was about to speak when she sat up alertly and said "Sh!" in a warning voice. A subdued impassioned murmur was audible in the room beyond and Miss Baker leaned forward, unashamed, trying to hear. The murmur trembled on the verge of coherence, sank down, mounted excitedly, and then ceased altogether. "This Mr. Gatsby you spoke of is my neighbor—" I said. "Don't talk. I want to hear what happens." "Is something happening?" I inquired innocently. "You mean to say you don't know?" said Miss Baker, honestly surprised. "I thought everybody knew." "I don't." "Why—" she said hesitantly, "Tom's got some woman in New York." "Got some woman?" I repeated blankly. Miss Baker nodded. "She might have the decency not to telephone him at dinner-time. Don't you think?" Almost before I had grasped her meaning there was the flutter of a dress and the crunch of leather boots and Tom and Daisy were back at the table. "It couldn't be helped!" cried Daisy with tense gayety. She sat down, glanced searchingly at Miss Baker and then at me and continued: "I looked

outdoors for a minute and it's very romantic outdoors. There's a bird on the lawn that I think must be a nightingale come over on the Cunard or White Star Line. He's singing away—" her voice sang "—It's romantic, isn't it, Tom?" "Very romantic," he said, and then miserably to me: "If it's light enough after dinner I want to take you down to the stables." The telephone rang inside, startlingly, and as Daisy shook her head decisively at Tom the subject of the stables, in fact all subjects, vanished into air. Among the broken fragments of the last five minutes at table I remember the candles being lit again, pointlessly, and I was conscious of wanting to look squarely at every one and yet to avoid all eyes. I couldn't guess what Daisy and Tom were thinking but I doubt if even Miss Baker who seemed to have mastered a certain hardy skepticism was able utterly to put this fifth guest's shrill metallic urgency out of mind. To a certain temperament the situation might have seemed intriguing—my own instinct was to telephone immediately for the police. The horses, needless to say, were not mentioned again. Tom and Miss Baker, with several feet of twilight between them strolled back into the library, as if to a vigil beside a perfectly tangible body, while trying to look pleasantly interested and a little deaf I followed Daisy around a chain of connecting verandas to the porch in front. In its deep gloom we sat down side by side on a wicker settee. Daisy took her face in her hands, as if feeling its lovely shape, and her eyes moved gradually out into the velvet dusk. I saw that turbulent emotions possessed her, so I asked what I thought would be some sedative questions about her little girl. "We don't know each other very well, Nick," she said suddenly. "Even if we are cousins. You didn't come to my wedding." "I wasn't back from the war." "That's true." She hesitated. "Well, I've had a very bad time, Nick, and I'm pretty cynical about everything." Evidently she had reason to be. I waited but she didn't say any more, and after a moment I returned rather feebly to the subject of her daughter. "I suppose she talks, and—eats, and everything." "Oh, yes." She looked at me absently. "Listen, Nick; let me tell you what I said when she was born. Would you like to hear?" "Very much." "It'll show you how I've gotten to feel about—things. Well, she was less than an hour old and Tom was God knows where. I woke up out of the ether with an utterly abandoned feeling and asked the nurse right away if it was a boy or a girl. She told me it was a girl, and so I turned my head away and wept. 'All right,' I said, 'I'm glad it's a girl. And I hope she'll be a fool—that's the best thing a girl can be in this world, a beautiful little fool." "You see I think everything's terrible anyhow," she went on in a convinced way. "Everybody thinks so—the most advanced people. And I know. I've been everywhere and seen everything and done everything." Her eyes flashed around her in a defiant way, rather like Tom's, and she laughed with thrilling scorn. "Sophisticated—God, I'm sophisticated!" The instant her voice broke off, ceasing to compel my attention, my belief, I felt the basic insincerity of what she had said. It made me uneasy, as though the whole evening had been a trick of some sort to exact a contributory emotion from me. I waited, and sure enough, in a moment she looked at me with an absolute smirk on her lovely face as if she had asserted her membership in a rather distinguished secret society to which she and Tom belonged. Inside, the crimson room bloomed with light. Tom and Miss Baker sat at either end of the long couch and she read aloud to him from the "Saturday Evening Post"—the words, murmurous and uninflected, running together in a soothing tune. The lamp-light, bright on his boots and dull on the autumn-leaf yellow of her hair, glinted along the paper as she turned a page with a flutter of slender muscles in her arms. When we came in she held us silent for a moment with a lifted hand. "To be continued," she said, tossing the magazine on the table,

"in our very next issue." Her body asserted itself with a restless movement of her knee, and she stood up. "Ten o'clock," she remarked, apparently finding the time on the ceiling. "Time for this good girl to go to bed." "Jordan's going to play in the tournament tomorrow," explained Daisy, "over at Westchester." "Oh,—you're Jordan Baker." I knew now why her face was familiar—its pleasing contemptuous expression had looked out at me from many rotogravure pictures of the sporting life at Asheville and Hot Springs and Palm Beach. I had heard some story of her too, a critical, unpleasant story, but what it was I had forgotten long ago. "Good night," she said softly. "Wake me at eight, won't you." "If you'll get up." "I will. Good night, Mr. Carraway. See you anon." "Of course you will," confirmed Daisy. "In fact I think I'll arrange a marriage. Come over often, Nick, and I'll sort of—oh—fling you together. You know—lock you up accidentally in linen closets and push you out to sea in a boat, and all that sort of thing—" "Good night," called Miss Baker from the stairs. "I haven't heard a word." "She's a nice girl," said Tom after a moment. "They oughtn't to let her run around the country this way." "Who oughtn't to?" inquired Daisy coldly. "Her family." "Her family is one aunt about a thousand years old. Besides, Nick's going to look after her, aren't you, Nick? She's going to spend lots of week-ends out here this summer. I think the home influence will be very good for her." Daisy and Tom looked at each other for a moment in silence. "Is she from New York?" I asked quickly. "From Louisville. Our white girlhood was passed together there. Our beautiful white—" "Did you give Nick a little heart to heart talk on the veranda?" demanded Tom suddenly. "Did I?" She looked at me. "I can't seem to remember, but I think we talked about the Nordic race. Yes, I'm sure we did. It sort of crept up on us and first thing you know—" "Don't believe everything you hear, Nick," he advised me. I said lightly that I had heard nothing at all, and a few minutes later I got up to go home. They came to the door with me and stood side by side in a cheerful square of light. As I started my motor Daisy peremptorily called "Wait! "I forgot to ask you something, and it's important. We heard you were engaged to a girl out West." "That's right," corroborated Tom kindly. "We heard that you were engaged." "It's libel. I'm too poor." "But we heard it," insisted Daisy, surprising me by opening up again in a flower-like way. "We heard it from three people so it must be true." Of course I knew what they were referring to, but I wasn't even vaguely engaged. The fact that gossip had published the banns was one of the reasons I had come east. You can't stop going with an old friend on account of rumors and on the other hand I had no intention of being rumored into marriage. Their interest rather touched me and made them less remotely rich—nevertheless, I was confused and a little disgusted as I drove away. It seemed to me that the thing for Daisy to do was to rush out of the house, child in arms—but apparently there were no such intentions in her head. As for Tom, the fact that he "had some woman in New York" was really less surprising than that he had been depressed by a book. Something was making him nibble at the edge of stale ideas as if his sturdy physical egotism no longer nourished his peremptory heart. Already it was deep summer on roadhouse roofs and in front of wayside garages, where new red gas-pumps sat out in pools of light, and when I reached my estate at West Egg I ran the car under its shed and sat for a while on an abandoned grass roller in the yard. The wind had blown off, leaving a loud bright night with wings beating in the trees and a persistent organ sound as the full bellows of the earth blew the frogs full of life. The silhouette of a moving cat wavered across the moonlight and turning my head to watch it I saw that I was not alone—fifty feet away a figure had emerged from the shadow of my neighbor's mansion and was standing with his hands in

his pockets regarding the silver pepper of the stars. Something in his leisurely movements and the secure position of his feet upon the lawn suggested that it was Mr. Gatsby himself, come out to determine what share was his of our local heavens. I decided to call to him. Miss Baker had mentioned him at dinner, and that would do for an introduction. But I didn't call to him for he gave a sudden intimation that he was content to be alone—he stretched out his arms toward the dark water in a curious way, and far as I was from him I could have sworn he was trembling. Involuntarily I glanced seaward—and distinguished nothing except a single green light, minute and far away, that might have been the end of a dock. When I looked once more for Gatsby he had vanished, and I was alone again in the unquiet darkness. Chapter 2 Summary: Just chapter 2 of the Great Gatsby Notes: (See the end of the chapter for notes.) Chapter Text About half way between West Egg and New York the motor-road hastily joins the railroad and runs beside it for a quarter of a mile, so as to shrink away from a certain desolate area of land. This is a valley of ashes—a fantastic farm where ashes grow like wheat into ridges and hills and grotesque gardens where ashes take the forms of houses and chimneys and rising smoke and finally, with a transcendent effort, of men who move dimly and already crumbling through the powdery air. Occasionally a line of grey cars crawls along an invisible track, gives out a ghastly creak and comes to rest, and immediately the ash-grey men swarm up with leaden spades and stir up an impenetrable cloud which screens their obscure operations from your sight. But above the grey land and the spasms of bleak dust which drift endlessly over it, you perceive, after a moment, the eyes of Doctor T. J. Eckleburg. The eyes of Doctor T. J. Eckleburg are blue and gigantic—their retinas are one yard high. They look out of no face but, instead, from a pair of enormous yellow spectacles which pass over a nonexistent nose. Evidently some wild wag of an oculist set them there to fatten his practice in the borough of Queens, and then sank down himself into eternal blindness or forgot them and moved away. But his eyes, dimmed a little by many paintless days under sun and rain, brood on over the solemn dumping ground. The valley of ashes is bounded on one side by a small foul river, and when the drawbridge is up to let barges through, the passengers on waiting trains can stare at the dismal scene for as long as half an hour. There is always a halt there of at least a minute and it was because of this that I first met Tom Buchanan's mistress. The fact that he had one was insisted upon wherever he was known. His acquaintances resented the fact that he turned up in popular restaurants with her and, leaving her at a table, sauntered about, chatting with whomsoever he knew. Though I was curious to see her I had no desire to meet her—but I did. I went up to New York with Tom on the train one afternoon and when we stopped by the ashheaps he jumped to his feet and taking hold of my elbow literally forced me from the car. "We're getting off!" he insisted. "I want you to meet my girl." I think he'd tanked up a good deal at luncheon and his determination to have my company bordered on violence. The supercilious assumption was that on Sunday afternoon I had nothing better to do. I followed him over a low white-washed railroad fence and we walked back a hundred yards along the road under Doctor Eckleburg's persistent stare. The only building in sight was a small block of yellow brick sitting on the edge of the waste land, a sort of compact Main Street ministering to it and contiguous to absolutely nothing. One of the three shops it contained was for rent and another was an all-night restaurant approached by a trail of ashes; the third was a garage—Repairs. GEORGE B. WILSON. Cars Bought and Sold—and I followed Tom inside. The interior was unprosperous and bare; the only car visible was the dust-covered wreck of a Ford which crouched in a dim corner. It had occurred

to me that this shadow of a garage must be a blind and that sumptuous and romantic apartments were concealed overhead when the proprietor himself appeared in the door of an office, wiping his hands on a piece of waste. He was a blonde, spiritless man, anaemic, and faintly handsome. When he saw us a damp gleam of hope sprang into his light blue eyes. "Hello, Wilson, old man," said Tom, slapping him jovially on the shoulder. "How's business?" "I can't complain," answered Wilson unconvincingly. "When are you going to sell me that car?" "Next week; I've got my man working on it now." "Works pretty slow, don't he?" "No, he doesn't," said Tom coldly. "And if you feel that way about it, maybe I'd better sell it somewhere else after all." "I don't mean that," explained Wilson quickly. "I just meant—" His voice faded off and Tom glanced impatiently around the garage. Then I heard footsteps on a stairs and in a moment the thickish figure of a woman blocked out the light from the office door. She was in the middle thirties, and faintly stout, but she carried her surplus flesh sensuously as some women can. Her face, above a spotted dress of dark blue crepe-de-chine, contained no facet or gleam of beauty but there was an immediately perceptible vitality about her as if the nerves of her body were continually smouldering. She smiled slowly and walking through her husband as if he were a ghost shook hands with Tom, looking him flush in the eye. Then she wet her lips and without turning around spoke to her husband in a soft, coarse voice: "Get some chairs, why don't you, so somebody can sit down." "Oh, sure," agreed Wilson hurriedly and went toward the little office, mingling immediately with the cement color of the walls. A white ashen dust veiled his dark suit and his pale hair as it veiled everything in the vicinity—except his wife, who moved close to Tom. "I want to see you," said Tom intently. "Get on the next train." "All right." "I'll meet you by the news-stand on the lower level." She nodded and moved away from him just as George Wilson emerged with two chairs from his office door. We waited for her down the road and out of sight. It was a few days before the Fourth of July, and a grey, scrawny Italian child was setting torpedoes in a row along the railroad track. "Terrible place, isn't it," said Tom, exchanging a frown with Doctor Eckleburg. "Awful." "It does her good to get away." "Doesn't her husband object?" "Wilson? He thinks she goes to see her sister in New York. He's so dumb he doesn't know he's alive." So Tom Buchanan and his girl and I went up together to New York—or not quite together, for Mrs. Wilson sat discreetly in another car. Tom deferred that much to the sensibilities of those East Eggers who might be on the train. She had changed her dress to a brown figured muslin which stretched tight over her rather wide hips as Tom helped her to the platform in New York. At the news-stand she bought a copy of "Town Tattle" and a moving-picture magazine and, in the station drug store, some cold cream and a small flask of perfume. Upstairs, in the solemn echoing drive she let four taxi cabs drive away before she selected a new one, lavender-colored with grey upholstery, and in this we slid out from the mass of the station into the glowing sunshine. But immediately she turned sharply from the window and leaning forward tapped on the front glass. "I want to get one of those dogs," she said earnestly. "I want to get one for the apartment. They're nice to have—a dog." We backed up to a grey old man who bore an absurd resemblance to John D. Rockefeller. In a basket, swung from his neck, cowered a dozen very recent puppies of an indeterminate breed. "What kind are they?" asked Mrs. Wilson eagerly as he came to the taxi-window. "All kinds. What kind do you want, lady?" "I'd like to get one of those police dogs; I don't suppose you got that kind?" The man peered doubtfully into the basket, plunged in his hand and drew one up, wriggling, by the back of the neck. "That's no police dog," said Tom. "No, it's not exactly a police dog,"

" said the man with disappointment in his voice. "It's more of an airedale." He passed his hand over the brown wash-rag of a back. "Look at that coat. Some coat. That's a dog that'll never bother you with catching cold." "I think it's cute," said Mrs. Wilson enthusiastically. "How much is it?" "That dog?" He looked at it admiringly. "That dog will cost you ten dollars." The airedale—undoubtedly there was an airedale concerned in it somewhere though its feet were startlingly white—changed hands and settled down into Mrs. Wilson's lap, where she fondled the weather-proof coat with rapture. "Is it a boy or a girl?" she asked delicately. "That dog? That dog's a boy." "It's a bitch," said Tom decisively. "Here's your money. Go and buy ten more dogs with it." We drove over to Fifth Avenue, so warm and soft, almost pastoral, on the summer Sunday afternoon that I wouldn't have been surprised to see a great flock of white sheep turn the corner. "Hold on," I said, "I have to leave you here." "No, you don't," interposed Tom quickly. "Myrtle'll be hurt if you don't come up to the apartment. Won't you, Myrtle?" "Come on," she urged. "I'll telephone my sister Catherine. She's said to be very beautiful by people who ought to know." "Well, I'd like to, but—" We went on, cutting back again over the Park toward the West Hundreds. At 158th Street the cab stopped at one slice in a long white cake of apartment houses. Throwing a regal homecoming glance around the neighborhood, Mrs. Wilson gathered up her dog and her other purchases and went haughtily in. "I'm going to have the McKees come up," she announced as we rose in the elevator. "And of course I got to call up my sister, too." The apartment was on the top floor—a small living room, a small dining room, a small bedroom and a bath. The living room was crowded to the doors with a set of tapestried furniture entirely too large for it so that to move about was to stumble continually over scenes of ladies swinging in the gardens of Versailles. The only picture was an over-enlarged photograph, apparently a hen sitting on a blurred rock. Looked at from a distance however the hen resolved itself into a bonnet and the countenance of a stout old lady beamed down into the room. Several old copies of "Town Tattle" lay on the table together with a copy of "Simon Called Peter" and some of the small scandal magazines of Broadway. Mrs. Wilson was first concerned with the dog. A reluctant elevator boy went for a box full of straw and some milk to which he added on his own initiative a tin of large hard dog biscuits—one of which decomposed apathetically in the saucer of milk all afternoon. Meanwhile Tom brought out a bottle of whiskey from a locked bureau door. I have been drunk just twice in my life and the second time was that afternoon so everything that happened has a dim hazy cast over it although until after eight o'clock the apartment was full of cheerful sun. Sitting on Tom's lap Mrs. Wilson called up several people on the telephone; then there were no cigarettes and I went out to buy some at the drug store on the corner. When I came back they had disappeared so I sat down discreetly in the living room and read a chapter of "Simon Called Peter"—either it was terrible stuff or the whiskey distorted things because it didn't make any sense to me. Just as Tom and Myrtle—after the first drink Mrs. Wilson and I called each other by our first names—reappeared, company commenced to arrive at the apartment door. The sister, Catherine, was a slender, worldly girl of about thirty with a solid sticky bob of red hair and a complexion powdered milky white. Her eyebrows had been plucked and then drawn on again at a more rakish angle but the efforts of nature toward the restoration of the old alignment gave a blurred air to her face. When she moved about there was an incessant clicking as innumerable pottery bracelets jingled up and down upon her arms. She came in with such a proprietary haste and looked around so possessively at the furniture that I wondered if she lived here. But when I asked her she laughed i

Feel free to delete the first one. I would do anything for you if post this. The Great Gatsby in all it’s glory

im aware i was probably supposed to read the whole thing to find out if you changed anything and tnhen find out you hadnt and id wasted an hour of my life but i am way too lazy to do that

#ask #im not gonna post the other one merely because of how bad i feel for my followers #long post

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jawritter · 4 years

Text

Promised

Chapter 9

**Series Warnings!! ** ABO dynamics! Smut, unprotected smut, knotting, claiming, mating, heat, rut, language, overly protective Jensen, age gap! 19-year-old reader, 41-year-old Jensen, virgin reader, loss of virginity, sort of an arranged marriage, hint at possible mob type settings.

Story Description:

In a world where your presentation can be a blessing or a curse, a newly presented Omega will come face to face with the harsh reality of Alphas, Omegas, and pack alliances that are expected to be upheld with the union of your two families…

A/N: Pt.9!!! Please don’t copy my stuff! Feedback is welcomed! If you want to be added to the series tag list, or just my tag list in general let me know! Cross-posted on Wattpad! Hope you enjoy it!! This is my first ABO series so be nice lmao!

Word Count: 2133

Pairing Jensen x Alan Ackles, Jensen X Your Father, Jensen X Uncle David, Jensen x Clif, Jensen x Josh, Jensen x other OFC Characters Jensen x you (Eventually)

Missed it so far? Catch up!

*********Promised Series Masterlist!!!********

Jensen’s POV:

Jensen paced around his father’s office where his father, sister, brother, Clif, and a few other high ups in the Ackles pack tried to watch the security cameras to look for any sign of you coming out of the women’s bathroom. There was an outside entrance to the bathroom, and they figured that’s where the person or person’s had taken you when they left the bathroom with you. If you ever made it there.

Jensen couldn’t stop the growls falling from his lips as he eyed the security tapes. David Y/L/N was tied to a chair across from the large oak desk that they were all standing behind.

“Alan, I swear I don’t know what’s going on! If I knew where she was I’d tell you! I have no part in this you know that!!”

“I don’t know anything at this point, David, either way, this is a good lesson for you. This happened to my son’s Omega because of a male in your pack. So you need to learn there for that you are responsible as a pack leader for actions like these,” Alan stated calmly, not looking up from the computer screens.

One glare from Jensen and David shut up really quickly.

“There!!” Clif yelled, making everyone in the room jump.

There, on the video, was a man carrying you thrown over his shoulder toward a black SUV. Throwing you inside, before pulling out of the parking lot in a hurry.

Jensen wanted to cry, scream, and throw shit all at the same time. He didn’t know what to do, but he knew he wanted to do something.

“I recognize him. That’s one of Y/D/N bodyguards. Looks like Y/N’s dad was to damn chicken to come to do the dirty work himself. So he sent his bodyguard to do it for him.” Clif said. Typing away on his computer.

“I can pull up the traffic camera footage and see which direction he went in, me and my men will start the hunt from there. We’re gonna find her Jensen.” Clif said, he’d been Jensen’s friend for a long time now, and he could see Jensen was just about to snap.

“If her dad wasn’t here himself, then where is he?” Jensen snapped, crossing the floor in only three strides of his long legs, and hoving over David with malice written across his face.

“Hom,e last I check,” David said, too fearful of what the Ackles was going to do to him at this point to withhold any information he might know. Y/D/N got himself into this, he can get himself out of it. Though by the look on the Alpha’s face standing directly in front of him he didn’t see his brother getting out of this alive.

Jensen reached up and hit David hard enough to knock him out. He had, had just about enough of looking at his face, and didn’t want him to hear what he was about to say next.

“I’m going to her dad’s, and one way or another he's going to tell me where he’s keeping my Omega, and why.” Jensen snatched up his jacket and went to go out of the door.

“Stay here son, we will have him fetched. I’ve already sent a detail to have him removed from the home, remember there are innocent people in there with him. We don’t want to cause them any harm. They have no part in this. Let’s just deal with the source.”

Alan’s voice was calm, but his eyes held the same rage as his sons. He hated to see his son in this much distress. He always had a soft spot for Jensen, and everyone in the family knew it. Now, looking at him this desperate, it made his blood boil.

“What if we don’t get to her in time Dad? We’re wasting time!” Jensen yelled, frustration getting harder and harder to control.

“He’s been collected. He should be here within five minutes.” A young Alpha Jensen didn’t recognize stood just inside his father’s office door and announced. Alan thanked the young man, and he excused himself quickly.

“Her father is on his way here. We will get to the bottom of this son. She’s going to be just fine.”

Just as Jensen was about to argue the point, Josh cleared his throat from across the room. Making all heads turn toward him.

“Jensen, your Omega was wearing a mating collar wasn’t she?” he asked, approaching his brother cautiously.

“Yes,” Jensen said, obviously not following his brother’s train of thought.

“Where did you purchase it?”

Jensen stood there thinking for a second getting annoyed with the twenty questions when his Omega was out there and in danger.

“From the family jeweler here in Dallas. Same place you all got your Omega’s there’s.”

A smile broke out over his brother's face.

“Jensen, the reason we have those collars made at that particular place is because they put tracking devices inside the collars. If we turn on her GPS locator on her collar we can find her down to the street! It will just take about 30 minutes to get it all up and running.”

Jensen stood there stock-still in the middle of the floor.

“What if they took it off of her? Threw it somewhere random on the way.”

The room was so still you could hear a pin drop. All eyes on Josh and Jensen.

“They can’t. You are the one that put it on her. It would take your fingerprints to release the clasp. There’s no way they could get it off of her.”

Just as Jensen was about to open his mouth and tell them ‘well what the fuck are you waiting for’ the door opened. The young Alpha poking his head just inside.

“Excuse me, sir. Y/D/N is here. He’s locked down in the basement.”

Alan turned to Jensen.

“Go, get what you can out of her father. Do whatever you have to do. I’ll take care of the rest…”

A look of understanding crossing between father and son that was enough to make a cold shiver run down everyone in the room’s spine. “We will track down your Omega, and then come and retrieve you when we have her location.”

Jensen nodded and followed the young Alpha to the door of the basement. Where he opened it for him and stood aside. Letting Jensen descent the stairs on his own.

Jensen was livid. His eyes flashing red in intervals as he descended the stairs. Taking off his white dress shirt at the end of the stairs, and hanging it there. leaving him just in his undershirt and slacks. He could hear y/n father cursing at him, and everyone else in the house as he rounded the corner. Seeing the man tied to the chair.

“Hello Y/D/N…” Jensen drew out. Y/N's father stopped yelling immediately.

Staring down Jensen like if he could kill him with his bare hands he would.

“You know Jensen all this is your fault! If you would have just taken your rightful place in your pack you would still have your Omega right now, but since I can’t have what I want, you can’t have what you want. Simples as that.” The smile that spread across his face made Jensen’s vision go red, and his stomach churns all at the same time.

“You will tell me what you did with y/n.” He said, Leaning over the man that was tied to the chair.

“Oh really I am, and what makes you think I would do a thing like that?” He mouthed back.

Jensen didn’t have time to think before his first made contact with the man’s mouth. Blood running down his now busted lip.

“Let’s try that again.. Where is my Omega?”

This time the man said nothing. Just sat there staring at Jensen, a sinister smirk spread across his face.

“You know, before I came here tonight with Y/n I promised her something…. I promised her I would protect her. You made me break that promise.. I don't appreciate that. I’ll be spending the rest of my life making it up to her….”

Jensen’s vision was starting to go completely red, he was losing what little bit of control he had left. His temper was getting harder and harder to control, and he knew if he kept up this little game he was going to lose it.

“Mr. Ackles! We found her! They’re holding her in an abandoned warehouse down by the lake.”

The young Alpha happily reported to his elder in the pack. Jensen nodded his head.

“Give me two minutes... “ he said, his eyes never left Y/N’s father, and he knew by the look on his face that it was y/n’s true location.

“You know Y/D/N, I made Y/n another promise. This one I intend to keep. What to know that promise was?”

Jensen leaned over the chair. Holding either side of the man’s shoulders.

“What’s that?” he tried to sound cocky, but it was laced in fear.

“I told her if you tried anything I’d rip your throat out….. With my teeth…”

Jensen’s vision went red, All he saw was red…

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Less than an hour later Jensen’s SUV in the lead, the convoy pulled up to the old warehouse where y/n’s GPS was showing her location.

Jensen jumped out of the SUV before the car even fully came to a stop. Running into the building. Calling for his Omega, praying with everything in him that he wasn’t too late…

He went from room to room. Searching, and so far nothing, no guards, no nothing. Fear gripped him deep in his gut. What if they had it wrong? What if she wasn’t here?

Then just when panic pulled at the corner of his subconscious, he did what she should have done instead of running around like an idiot. Stopping the stilling himself. Taking a deep breath, at first nothing. His heart sank in his chest, but he tried again. Taking an even deeper breath, walking a little deeper into the warehouse.

That’s when he caught it. Her scent, he would know it if he was clinically dead….

Running toward the upstairs office looking room he began to pound on the door. He could smell her stronger now, he knew she was in there. She just had to be.

Finally, with one kick of his foot the door caved, and swung open hitting the wall hard.

At first, he didn’t see her, then as his eyes adjusted to the darkroom walking around the desk following his sense he found her. Laying on the cold hard ground of the warehouse office floor.

Falling to his knees he didn’t know much after that. He remembers screaming for his father. He remembered the paramedics rushing into the warehouse where he was sitting on the floor with her cold body pressed to his as tight as he could hold her.

He remembered his father and his brother having to hold him back while the paramedics looked her over.

He remembered all of this, but it was like walking through a clouded blur.

Finally, a young Omega girl dressed in a paramedics outfit came to stand in front of him and addressed him directly. Jensen shook himself hard enough to pull himself out of his fog. Even though it was hard.

“Mr. Ackles, your Omega is going to be just fine. She’s just sedated. We can’t even find an injury on her. We want to take her to the hospital of your choosing so she can be monitored while she sleeps off the sedative, and maybe they can give her something to counteract it.”

He stood there for a moment, trying to catch his breath. Relief flooded his system as he processed the news that his Omega was going to be okay.

“Mr. Ackles? Do you want us to transport her to Dallas…”

“NO!” Jensen snapping back to himself jumped up to his feet. Even though the threat had been handled. He didn’t want to stay in Dallas. He said he was going to take her home, and that’s what he intended to do.

“Take her to Austin State Hospital.” Jensen said. Walking over to the medical gurney that they had loaded y/n onto. His heart clenching in his chest at the sight before him. He wanted more than anything to crawl into the gurney with her and hold her more than anything else in the world.

“Mr. Ackles… That’s a long drive from here…” The young girl said. Afraid to confront the Alpha who was obviously distress about his Omega and her current state.

“Don’t worry about it. We will just call in a med flight. With a chopper, we can have them both there within the hour.” The older paramedic said. Walking out of the warehouse ahead of the gurney and Jensen who was holding as tightly to Y/n’s hand as he could.

“We’re going home, sweetheart. We’re going home…”

Tag List:

@deanwanddamons @imabitch4jensen @rvgrsbrns @bi-danvers0

Promised Series Masterlist:

@spnfamily-j2

@stoneyggirl

@onethirstyunicorn

@bloo-moon-freak

@musiclovinchic93

@perpetualabsurdity

@theoneandonlymelol

@xhannahbananax03

@xcastielbabyangelface

@leahnicole1219

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