#I’m so much more productive. I feel more alive. and I’m only drawn low by the fear

[is-it-art-tho]

This is Chapter 9!

Chapter 1. Chapter 2. Chapter 3. Chapter 4. Chapter 5. Chapter 6.   Chapter 7. Chapter 8.

Summary: Dick begins the healing process.

By all accounts, Dick should not have survived.

That was what he gleaned from murmured conversations between nurses and snippets of news coverage. His medical records had filled in some blanks, too.

Concussion, multiple fractures, internal hemorrhaging, lacerations, cardiac arrest.

Cardiac arrest. The words had played on a loop in his head ever since his doctor had first said them, and even now Dick couldn’t quite make any sense of it.

The doctor had smiled at him afterwards, informed him of how lucky he was to be alive. “Usually when someone goes into cardiac arrest in the field, they don’t even make it to the hospital,” she’d said. “Good thing Batman was there, huh?”

“Batman?”

“Mhm. EMTs saw him. He must have been doing CPR before they got there.”

“Hm,” was all Dick had offered in response, but internally he had clung to those minor details like a drowning man grasping at driftwood.

The majority of that night was lost to him. Listening to the news helped somewhat, but reporters only knew so much. And none of the others – Barbara, Tim, any of them – had been very forthcoming, either.

Dick hadn’t pressed, though. The haunted look in their eyes whenever they came to visit him in the hospital had been enough for him to decide never to bring that night up again. He already hated that he might have inadvertently become added fodder for future nightmares; no need to throw gas on the fire.

He could live with not-knowing what had happened if it meant keeping them from reliving it.

“Richard?”

The young voice dragged Dick’s gaze away from the curtains he’d been staring at to the doorway. He’d been back at the manor for nearly two days now, in bed mostly, and in that time he had yet to see Damian except for the ride back from the hospital.

Now the boy was standing at the threshold with a tea service in his hands, his mouth curled in an uncertain frown. “Am I… interrupting?”

Dick smirked and made a show of looking around the empty bedroom. “Yeah. I’m pretty swamped here, as you can see.”

“You know what I meant.”

“I know, but it was a dumb question, anyway. You know you’re never interrupting, Damian. C’mon.” Dick waved him in with a jerk of his chin then froze and winced as a jolt of pain shot up his spine and into his head.

Damian entered stiffly and set the tray on the bedside table, shoving aside pill bottles and a glass of water.

“Damian?” Dick asked after what felt like a long pause. Damian’s eyes were locked on the tea set, his face scrunched in a way that made him look nervous and uncomfortable and young.

Dick reached out with his good hand and tugged on the boy’s sleeve. “Hey, you okay?”

“Of course, I am,” Damian snapped, pulling his arm out of reach. He scowled at a bookshelf. “Drake is having a difficult time.”

“Tim?” Dick tried to push himself more upright and quickly aborted that mission with a hiss when he felt a sharp tug at the sutures across his abdomen. “What do you mean? What’s going on?”

“He blames himself for what happened. For not locating you sooner.”

“He told you that?”

“I overheard him talking to Stephanie.”

“Aw, Tim.” Tim had been noticeably distant, it was true, but Dick had interpreted it as general anxiety about the whole situation. Never in a million years would he have guessed that Tim had managed to convince himself this was his fault.

Damian muttered something, hands now shoved into his pockets.

“What?”

“I said he is a fool. To act as if he is the one who…” Damian swallowed hard, glowering at the carpet.

Birds were gathering and chirping in a bush by the open window, and though the curtains were drawn to protect Dick’s concussed brain from harsh light, hazy beams still found their way in, spilling across the floor and along the foot of the bed.

“He is not the one to blame,” Damian finished.

“No one is.” Dick couldn’t tell if it was the drugs or his injuries that were making this conversation so hard to follow, but he felt like he was missing something, straggling two steps behind. “At least, not any of you.”

Damian looked at him with open disbelief. “I failed you, Richard. If not for my ineptitude, you wouldn’t have– I should have gone with you when you left that night. None of this would have happened if I had just–”

“Stop.” Dick had meant it to be firm, but the word sounded more like a plea. His head was really pounding now, and keeping the pain out of his voice was becoming increasingly difficult. “You can’t let yourself start doing that or else you’ll never stop. It was a freakish, sucky thing that none of us could have anticipated and therefore probably couldn’t have avoided, either. And yeah, maybe if you had been there it wouldn’t have happened. Or maybe something worse would’ve happened instead. We don’t know and we never will, but what I do know is that you did the best you could in the moment.”

“And it was not good enough.”

“Damian–”

“It is my job to be good enough,” Damian maintained. “If I can’t protect you then…” He let the rest go unsaid, his lips pressing together as his eyes glistened. “I am supposed to be able to protect you.”

Oh. So that’s what this was about.

“Damian,” Dick tried again, and what was meant to be a sigh turned into a low groan as his ribs refused to cooperate.

Damian tensed, wide-eyed.

“We’re good. I’m okay,” Dick promised before the boy could sound the alarms. Then, “I’m not Batman anymore, Damian. You’re not my Robin. You don’t have to put that kind of pressure on yourself.”

And again, Damian gave him a look like Dick still just wasn’t getting it, like he missing something glaring and obvious and not worth explaining except to say, “Yes, I do, Richard.”

Dick started to say something, but Damian continued, “You are saying that excessive self-reproach is counter-productive. I understand the sentiment. And I appreciate it. Thank you.”

He turned to the tea service and begin pouring a cup, his entire demeanor changed, suddenly casual . “How is your pain?”

“I…” Dick paused, once again feeling off balance and too slow as the tone and subject of the discussion switched so suddenly. “A four.”

“So, a seven,” Damian deduced, taking one of the pill bottles from the nightstand and opening it after checking the label. “Alfred said if it is above a five then you are to take two of these.”

Dick considered fighting him on this, reluctant to lose the rest of the morning to a drug-fueled haze, but the pulsing ache beneath his skull and the one radiating through his ribs made it difficult. He let Damian tip the capsules into his open palm and threw them back without complaint.

“You got anything planned this morning?” Dick asked, accepting the cup the tea Damian held out.

“Nothing important.”

“Great.” Dick reached across his chest with his good arm to pat the open space in the bed beside him.

After a brief hesitation, Damian circled the mattress and climbed in, his movements so careful that Dick hardly jostled at all.

“What language are you on right now?” Dick asked, settling back into the pillows. It might have been psychosomatic, but already he was feeling drowsy.

“Hungarian.”

“Huh. What happened to Korean?”

“Too easy. I finished that a week ago,” Damian said dismissively, though there was a self-satisfied smirk tugging at his lips.

Dick chuckled. “Show-off. How far along are you?”

“More or less conversational.”

“Nice.” Dick’s eyes were closed now. “Show me something.”

“I am not circus monkey, Richard.”

“Y’know, I grew up in the circus,” Dick mumbled. “The monkeys were my favorite. Miss those little guys.”

He thought he heard Damian sigh – or maybe it was a laugh – before the boy asked, “What do you want to hear?”

“That song Bruce hums all the time. The one he sings when he thinks he’s alone. What’s it called?”

Damian’s voice sounded muffled and far away when he answered, “Am I Blue.”

“Yeah. That.”

Damian cleared his throat and began to recite the lyrics in near-perfect Hungarian. He paused occasionally to search for a word, at times reversing to correct a conjugation before moving on.

Dick was almost completely gone now. The bed had fallen away, and he felt like he was floating through the air with Damian’s voice as a welcome backdrop.

He didn’t notice the quiet chatter had stopped until Damian asked, “Richard?”

“Mm…?”

“You’re not just Batman to me. I mean, that is not why I feel responsible for your wellbeing.”

“’Kay. Y’too…”

After a brief pause, the gentle half-singing began again, and Dick slipped away on the familiar melody.

______________

All of the lights were off in the den when Alfred breezed in with a tray of hot chocolate just as A Charlie Brown Christmas began on the TV. Cass and Stephanie’s arms sprang up from their spots on the floor like weeds, and he placed mugs in their waiting hands before circling around to the others. Tim, curled up on the sofa, accepted his with a muttered thanks without looking up from his phone. Bruce took one for himself and one for Damian who was smushed into his side, mouth hanging open in dead sleep. When Alfred got to where Barbara and Dick were sharing a blanket on the couch, he smiled and set their mugs on the end table.

“Thanks, Alfred,” Dick whispered, glancing over at Barbara’s head on his shoulder to find that she had fallen asleep.

“Of course,” Alfred said. He set the tray aside and took a seat in a nearby chair. “How are you feeling?”

“Good,” Dick answered, perhaps a bit too quickly because Alfred raised a dubious eyebrow at him.

“Honest,” he added with a rueful grin.

“Well, I’m glad to hear it.”

They sat in silence for a while, the only noise coming from the TV and hushed laughter and whispers between Cassandra and Stephanie on the floor.

The air was thick with the ghost of Thanksgiving dinner and fresh hot chocolate, creating a warm bouquet that was at once comforting and nostalgic. Bruce had a faint smile on his face as he watched the movie, colors and lights splashing across his face. He had one arm draped over Damian’s small frame as if holding him there.

At some point, Tim had stowed his phone and turned so that his legs dangled off the armrest and he could see the screen better, hot chocolate clutched between his hands.

It was one of those admittedly rare moments where there was no clock ticking anywhere in the background. There was work to be done, for sure, but it was not a looming obligation. Tonight, the city for once was quiet. Dick couldn’t remember the last time he had passed an uninterrupted holiday in this house.

“Something is on your mind,” Alfred noted, taking a small sip from his mug.

“I was just thinking about today.”

“Nothing short of a miracle,” the older man said, instantly understanding.

“No kidding. It almost feels suspicious. Like the calm before the–”

“Don’t,” he said firmly, his face illuminated just enough by the TV for Dick to register the stern frown there. “I will not allow you to sully this gift with your dark premonitions. Just enjoy this for what it is: a welcome and much needed respite after the events of the past few weeks.”

“You’re right, you’re right,” Dick conceded, cringing a little in self-reproach. “Sorry, Al.”

The old man nodded, his face softening. “Now, would you mind telling me what is actually on your mind?”

Dick let out a breathy, half-hearted laugh. “You’re good.”

“I am indeed.”

With a sigh, he looked toward the TV. A Black Friday commercial was advertising half-priced gaming systems.

“Hey,” Tim whispered, waving his arm at Stephanie.

“What?”

“Get me that.” He pointed at the commercial, and Stephanie scoffed at him before resuming her muted conversation with Cass. After a few days and a much-needed conversation, Dick was happy to see Tim back to his normal self.

“It’s been a while,” he admitted now, returning his attention to Alfred who was watching him patiently, “since I’ve heard from Jason. Over a month, actually. Not the longest we’ve gone without speaking, but it’s the longest in a while.”

The cup paused halfway to Alfred’s mouth, his brow creasing. “Over a month?”

“Yeah,” Dick sighed. “We went on patrol together in October and things got a little rough. I said some stuff and we haven’t spoken since. I’m not even sure he’s still in the city.”

When Alfred continued to look at him, Dick asked, “What?”

“If you don’t mind my asking, how has your memory been as of late?”

Dick adjusted himself, gingerly repositioning Barbara’s head on his shoulder when he felt her beginning to slide off. “Fine now. I can’t remember much of that night. Or, pretty much anything, really. But otherwise I’m all right. Why?”

“And the others? What have they told you?”

“About what happened? I haven’t asked. I didn’t want to... Well, you know.”

“Indeed,” Alfred said with a somber nod, setting down his mug. “It is a night, or a week, rather, that I’m certain we would all like to leave firmly in the past. But even so, I believe there are at least a few details that you ought to know.”

#damian wayne #dick grayson whump #nightwing #nightwing whump #batman fanfic #batfam fanfic #batfam fanfiction #batman fanfiction #AllOurBrokenParts #dick grayson #whump #hurt/comfort

[rogershoe]

Lights, Camera, Action

Part Two

(part one)

Masterlist

Summary: You’re a production assistant on the set of Cursed. The night before your first day at work, you opened your laptop to shockingly realise you’d be working with Daniel Sharman (and a plethora of other amazing actors), someone you’d been watching on screen since you were a teenager. You kept your expectations low, the PAs rarely got to interact with the talent…what was your chance?

Word count: 2.4k

Tag list: @sxperncturalimpala67 @mrsaaronkeener @tinygardensoul @disasterday @5am-cigarette @lancelotapricot @demoiselle-en-detresse00 @slytherlight @18somethingpsyche @ceruleanmusings @glxctt @cavillxhenry @lovelyapplessss @hereagainsstuff @linkpk88 @aliceperdida @weeping-redemption @magicalsaladnacho @lancelotapricot @ineedyourskulls @fandomarstrash

Warnings: age gap between reader and Daniel, swearing, slow burn

Notes: I hope you guys like this chapter! I know the story is moving slowly (both the chapters are of the same day ahaha) but this is the reader’s first day on set so I wanted to make it really detailed! Thank you so much for reading and please leave feedback and suggestion..it makes my day!!

——–

You stood up, dusting your knees to get rid of any residue from the hot tarmac. You couldn’t get the picture of him looking at you out of your mind. You wondered if he would recognize you on set…or whether he thought you were creepy. You started walking towards the door, thoughts still rushing through your mind. Maybe he didn’t think anything of it…or maybe he was still thinking about you, the stalkerish girl that was staring at him…

“Ow!”

Your hand clasped over your mouth as you realized you had opened the grey door too quickly, accidentally hitting one of the crew members.

“Oh my God, I’m so sorry” you pleaded, lowering your hand…your first day and you had already injured someone.

The thirty something year old woman looked at you annoyingly, taking off her headset and rubbing her forehead, “Shouldn’t you be inside?”

“Yeah..I’m sorry” your brain went blank as you tried to recall what you were doing outside….

“I was just getting a battery” you said suddenly and gestured to your back pocket.

“A battery? You’re a PA?” she lowered her hand, her expression softening

“Yeah” you said, letting out a breath of relief..maybe she’d know where to find the other PAs, “It’s my first day”

“Oh great!” she suddenly exclaimed, her mood changing..she held out her hand, “I’m the key production assistant, Naomi” she smiled, her bright red lips pulling back to reveal pearly white teeth

You took it, glad but a bit taken aback by her sudden change in mood. Then you realized…you had essentially just injured one of your bosses..shit. How many more things could go wrong today?

“Hey, nice to meet you” you blurted out..the adrenaline from seeing Daniel and hitting the key PA with a metal door was thankfully dying down.

“Has Huey shown you around yet?” she asked, pulling her headset back on

You nodded, “Yeah, he mainly gave me a tour of the basecamp”

“Awesome” she smiled again, “you can follow me” she said, starting to walk towards the basecamp, “I just need to do a couple more jobs in the trailers and then you can get started”

The butterflies in your stomach came alive again… what if she had a job near Daniel’s trailer? Worse yet, what if she had to do something in Daniel’s trailer?

“You coming?” she said squinting and looking back at you..you realized you’d frozen in your spot.

“Yeah..sorry” you stumbled over your words again and jogged up to her. The walk was short, less than a minute…it gave you plenty of time to get a good look at the trailer Daniel had previously gone into. The curtains were drawn over the windows so you couldn’t see anything inside. Maybe there had been a makeup artist already waiting in there for him and he was getting ready.

You forced yourself to stop thinking about him and looked forward at the tens of other trailers. You wondered if any other actors had arrived while you were inside or busy apologizing to Naomi.

As if she read your mind, (these crew members had a gift), she spoke, “the actors should be getting here any second now” she looked at the white watch on her wrist.

You decided to speak up, “I saw Daniel go into a trailer a few minutes ago”

She looked at you, an odd look  across her face that you couldn’t read….you quickly looked for any mistakes in your sentence and realized you had called him Daniel

“I mean Mr. Sharman” you stuttered, hoping she wouldn’t get angry

Her expression quickly returned to normal and she suddenly broke out in laughter, clutching her stomach with her hands

“OH, darling, it’s fine!” she straightened up, still smiling brightly

“You don’t have to call him that in front of me..I was just a bit concerned because calling him by his first name implies you know of him” she cleared her throat and you realized you were at the basecamp..”and knowing of these actors can lead to you becoming starstruck or…. or distracted….it’s essentially a recipe for a disaster”

That was unfortunate. You had been trying to tell yourself over and over again that you wouldn’t.. no, couldn’t get starstruck. As she said, it did seem like a “recipe for disaster”.

You looked around at the multiple trailers, and saw that there were actually a few people hovering around six or seven  of them…Huey had told you those were the costume department trailers.

Naomi started walking towards them. You forced yourself to keep your eyes facing forward, away from Daniel’s trailer on the right.

There was a cool breeze in the air and you revelled in the feeling, the refreshing coldness washing over your face.

“Naomi can you take these to trailer thirteen?” A woman called out. She had curly long blonde hair and wore bright red glasses.

Naomi smiled and nodded. You both walked towards the trailers and the woman who was standing on the steps into one of the vehicles. The woman headed inside and you both followed her. The inside of the trailer was much larger than you thought and was bursting with racks full of various different costumes. You could’ve spent hours just looking through all the clothes but unfortunately this was work..and you had no such privilege.

The eccentric looking woman looked through one of the racks before pulling out a long black costume. It was covered by clear plastic so you couldn’t really tell what it was but it seemed to be similar to a coat or robe. When she handed it to Naomi you saw that it also had a hood stitched onto the back.

Naomi gestured for you to head out of the trailer and you did so, carefully walking down the metal steps. You stopped beside the trailer, waiting for her next instruction.

She came up to you and handed you the hanger that the costume was hanging on.

“Each trailer is numbered, I’m sure Huey told you that”, you nodded, he had, “the number is on the main trailer door” you nodded again

“I want you to take this” she pointed at the clothing, “to trailer number thirteen”, you thought you saw a slight grin dance across her face for a split second.

“Alright…sure” you said, that sounded simple enough.

“Once you’re done, just come back here” she smiled before walking to one of the many people there

You nodded, smiling profusely and then walking away from the crowded trailers.

You wondered where trailer thirteen was…the costume trailer was twenty five so you started heading back the way you came. You looked at the doors and saw the numbers getting smaller. When you reached trailer fifteen you almost dropped the costume on the ground. It was two doors away from Daniel’s trailer. What was your luck? As much as you wanted to meet Daniel, you weren’t ready. Especially after what had happened earlier.

But this was work and you had to do your job and remain professional no matter the circumstances. You stalked up to the trailer mentally preparing yourself, you swore they could hear your heart beating all the way inside the trailer…… but before you could even put your foot on the first step, a woman walked out. She held a brush in her hand…a make-up brush.

“Oh hey” you said slightly taken aback,

“Hey! This is for Daniel right?” she said, a grin plastered across her face. She seemed sweet, really sweet.

“I think so” you said looking at the costume closely…you saw a small label which D.S was written on, “they told me to bring it to trailer thirteen”

“Well you’re at the right place” you stepped aside to let her move off the stairs. Suddenly another woman emerged from the trailer, her jet black hair was pulled back into a bun and she looked younger, maybe in her early twenties..close to your age actually.

“Oh hey, I’ll take that for you” she beamed and reached her hand out for the costume

You breathed a sigh of deep relief and suddenly all the nerves centered around meeting Daniel left your body. You were about to hand it to her, before the first woman..the supposed makeup artist spoke.

“Jasmine, no,  you come with me. I have to show you around the costume department”, Jasmine walked down the steps, an apologetic look on her face. The makeup artist then turned to you, “you can just take that inside and put it on the couch to your left”

“Oh okay sure” you said trying to seem confident. The nerves had returned in full force now but you tried your best to hide them. You hoped your face hadn’t gone completely red. The door had been left slightly open and you slowly walked up the steps, thankful that the two women were now walking away.

You took a deep breath and opened the door. The inside was very different from the costume departments. There was only one rack in the corner and it was empty, there was a small purple couch on your left and a small door right in front of you which you guessed was to the bathroom. But the most interesting part was the long mirror that stretched across almost the whole wall opposite the door. It was similar to the set up at a salon, with a lower long table parallel to the mirror (supported by the wall) adorned with various different sorts of brushes, hairdryers, tweezers and three black leather spinning chairs also placed there.

 In the middle chair, sat Daniel Sharman.

Your breath caught in your throat as you stepped into the trailer. You were afraid your legs might give way any second. He was on his phone, his hair tied back in a bun…a bored look on his face. You couldn’t help but think about how attractive he looked.  His keys lay on the table in front of him, next to a magazine. You carefully walked towards the couch and remembered the rule about how you never talked to the talent. You were thankful for it at this point….at least you didn’t have to try and make conversation. He was still looking at his phone… had he even noticed you had come in? The clear plastic covering of the robe crinkled loudly as you placed it down on the couch, breathing heavily.

He looked up suddenly, his blue eyes catching yours in the mirror as your head jerked up to see if he had heard. He seemed alarmed at first but his expression softened when he realised that you had only just brought his costume.

He laughed softly, “You scared me for a second there” he said, you could clearly hear his British accent.

“Oh…sorry..” you said smiling anxiously. You knew you were very clearly blushing, you just hoped he hadn’t taken any notice. He hadn’t, he was looking right down at his phone again. You straightened your back, realizing he really didn’t care about whether you were blushing or not…he didn’t actually care about you or what you were doing at all.

You walked back to the door. As you pulled it open, you heard his voice again,

“Thank you..”

You couldn’t help but smile as you muttered “your welcome” and stepped out of the trailer. You took a small glance at him before closing the door and saw that he had a slight grin on his face as he put down his phone and picked up the magazine.

8:20 am

It was almost time for filming and you couldn’t be more excited. Naomi had given you a walkie talkie and also a headset so you could communicate with the assistant directors and also the rest of the production assistants. You had been introduced to one other PA, his name was Louis. He had tan skin and shoulder length curly black hair. Cursed was his third and largest project yet.

He tapped you on the shoulder suddenly. You were standing in the studio waiting for the actors to arrive on set so they could start filming. You turned around, your arms crossed over your chest,

“yeah?”

He pointed to where the hallway entered the studio. Through it came Katherine Langford dressed in what looked like a nun’s clothes. You smiled widely…..first Daniel now Katherine? This day had been stressful and demanding and anxiety-ridden..but hopefully, finally getting to see all these actors play their characters would make it worth it.

Your heart beat faster in excitement as she walked over to the director for her instructions.

Louis spoke into your ear, “When they’re about to start filming, Huey will say rolling into the earpieces… then every PA will repeat that after him so we can make sure everyone on the set knows”

He saw you had a confused look on your face and explained, “only a few people on set have a headset, and the AD cant scream loud enough for everyone on set to hear”

You nodded then, understanding “So I just have to say rolling?”

He nodded turning back to the set.

Katherine was standing in the marble looking room that connected to what looked like a dining area with long wooden tables.

You suddenly saw Louis swivel his head towards the hallway and you did the same, your eyes widening at what you saw. Daniel was dressed in what you guessed was the long black costume you had brought into his trailer. His hood was raised over his head and as he walked into the studio you noticed that he had tear like markings drawn onto his face. Your mind wandered off to where you didn’t want it to…you couldn’t deny that he looked hot.

“He looks sick, doesn’t he?” you heard Louis whisper into your ear

“He really does,” you said, nodding eagerly. You were tired but seeing the actors in their costumes was like a splash of cold water to your face. Maybe you wouldn’t fall asleep on set after all.

Please lmk what age you’d like the reader to be in the comments! I was thinking of keeping her in her early to mid 20s since that would fit with the fact that she had been watching Daniel since she was a teenager :))

Part three

#Daniel sharman #daniel sharman x reader #daniel sharman fanfic #daniel sharman fluff #daniel sharman x oc #daniel sharman fic #daniel sharman fanfiction #cursed fanfiction #cursed #cursed netflix #cursed x reader #cursed fanfic #netflix #weeping monk #lancelot #Daniel sharman one shot #Daniel sharman imagine #Weeping monk x reader #Lancelot x reader

[bubblyani]

Back for Good

(Jim Davis x Reader)

A Jim Davis One Shot

Movie: Harsh Times (2005) by David Ayer

Rating: Mature

Warnings: Alcohol use, Swearing,  Violence and Sexual Content

Word Count: 9k+

Summary: Your spirits are lifted when your older boyfriend Jim Davis returns from the Army for good. As the lovers passionately reunite, you begin to reminisce the first encounter, and the unforgettable event that sealed your fate with Jim, possibly forever.

Author’s Note: One of the fantastic Balehead Accounts on Instagram once posted a photo of Jim Davis with a caption more so along the lines of “…Older boyfriend Jim visiting you at College…”. It was too irresistible to ignore. So this story was born. @tammykelly You are an angel to even show some enthusiasm towards this, even before I started, Thank you for the encouragement ! Hope y’all enjoy!

P.S: If anyone want to be tagged in specific Bale! Character fics please do let me know. And if you wanna be removed from anything NOT BATMAN, please feel free to let me know. I understand completely. 

Three.

It costed three people. Merely three for this nightmare scenario to enter reality.

A tall young man panted fast, his right hand assuming full responsibility for the broken bottle, not to mention the intense bleeding that resulted from it. All the while he stared down at his finished product: a much younger man. He watched the figure groan for his dear life, laying defeated and thoroughly bruised; as a weak stream of blood appeared prominent from his head as well, adding a splash of bright color to the dark and dusty pavement. Only in that moment, realization and bitter reality coupled up to surprise the standing man, with a sucker punch.

Which was transparent enough for the young woman beside them, the witness. Violence, Danger, her trembling heart sensed it all. For that was what his strong aura emitted. However, never did she flinch. Never did her heart consider retracting from him. On the contrary, she was compelled to trust him even further.

Especially when she sensed complete safety in him, above all others.

“Let’s go”

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

 (Present)      

The dusky skies appeared just as serene over South Central Los Angeles as anywhere else in the country, filtering over the streets and the neighborhoods. Cruising through in favorable speed, Mike Alonzo finally took his eyes off the road, permitting them to land on the tall, young man sitting beside him on the passenger seat: his best friend, Jim Davis.

His downcast expression was evident, with his tall frame sunken into the seat. He stared right ahead, while he sipped his bottle of beer in his suit. This posture was nothing short of a surprise for Mike to glance upon. If he had squinted his eyes, he swore he could imagine Jim as the rebellious teenager he once was. Only with a new buzz cut. Otherwise, it seemed that nothing had really changed.

Except it had. Older and forced to be responsible, they were facing times considered very harsh. And Jim just had a taste of it.

“Sorry, dude”

Mike began, looking back at the road. Shaking his head with disbelief, Jim sat up in slow motion as his teeth began to grind.

“Man! Fuck…this...shit!!”

Jim drawled with disappointment, enunciating every word whilst holding up a piece of paper, “I’m so done with this cop hate bullshit!” He added, taking another sip of alcohol. Mike nodded:

“Yeah, dawg. Forget about that! ” He smiled, smacking his friend on his shoulder in a playful demeanor, “Hey, Syl is cooking tonight…You wanna join us, bro?”

The possibility of his girlfriend Sylvia agreeing to this, was at an all time low. Mike was well aware. Yet, he was certain it was a question worth posing to his friend in need.

“Nah, man! I got plans”

Hitting the brakes in front of the stop lights, Mike looked at his friend again with surprise, “Yeah?” He inquired, looking quite pleased. Finally flashing a proud smile, Jim nodded:

“Yep! Gonna go see my woman soon…” he answered. Eyes widening seemed appropriate for Mike at that very moment.

“Yo, No shit!” Mike cried out with excitement, finally stepping on the gas, “The chick from UCLA*? You…you still with her?” He inquired.

“Yeah, Homie! ”

“Dawg!…” laughing with sheer amazement, Mike looked at Jim, “I’m impressed…really” he added, proceeding to chuckle, “Look ‘atchu…my boi Jim....going steady with the fine ass college chick…”

“Whoo!” With his soul finally returning to his body,  Jim howled, “Finer than fine, dawg!”

“Hell yeah!”

Given the state of hyped energy that erupted in the car between the two young men, it would be nearly impossible to guess how sombre it was just before. “So…so…” Mike continued, holding on to the wheel as they kept driving, “… where you gon’meet?”

“Well…actually…” Jim looked at him, licking his lips, “….it’s a surprise” he added with a playful smirk. To which Mike could not help but laugh, “What?” Mike paused, “You didn’t tell her you’re back for good?”

Seeing his friend shake his head like a naughty schoolboy forced him to laugh harder, “Ohohoho!! this is gon be one hell of a reunion, dawg” He added with sheer enthusiasm, “But seriously though, she’s a real good one too, bro…” Mike opinionated, as soon as his laughter died down, “ I mean, even Syl liked her”

“Shit! For real?”

“Yeah yeah yeah…” Mike answered immediately,  “And you know Syl, she ain’t easy to please”

Gulping down the remnants of the bottle, Jim exhaled and stared out through the window, “Shit man!” He exclaimed, “I’m really gonna see her again, huh?”

With his tone growing deeper, his eyes began to burn with a flame that could only be categorized as lustful. Sensing the vibe that did not seem so new, Mike chuckled:

“Oh yeah! My homie’s gonna get it tonight! Salud*”

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

The buzz, the chatter of young adults was consistent in the hallway outside. It served as background noise when the door of the toilet cubicle burst wide open, spitting a rather young woman out of it with haste. Only then did the mirror managed to identify her: You.

With your hand clutching on to a bra, you let out a relieved sigh. For within a few seconds, your body experienced a new form of liberation. And you managed to savor it on your own in a public ladies washroom. Wearing a soft smile that was easily reflected in the mirror, you stuffed the piece of lingerie into your shoulder handbag.

“Seriously?”

You jumped with a yelp. Being so wrapped around in your own thoughts, you did not even notice Yara, your friend standing there. With her arms folded and eyebrows raised, it was clear that her face was rife with judgement.

“What?” You inquired breathlessly, “Auntie Flo* is about to visit…and the twins were just swelling to …get some parole time” you added with a playful smirk, pointing at your chest with no shame. The curves of your now-freed bosom seemed more visible through your cardigan top, “And fuck! it feels so good” you exclaimed, as you washed your hands. Yara however, scoffed with amusement:

“So you’re saying you were squirming in your seat the whole time to let the puppies out?”

“What? I had to pee too!”

“Well, You could have just left right then!” She insisted with a seeming annoyance, as you grabbed a tissue.

“…and miss Mr. Linney’s Final Notes? Uh uh! No way, bitch!” You waved your index finger with disapproval as you both exited. Students had flooded the hallway by then. Evening lectures at UCLA finally had drawn to a close, and Friday night was about to make its entrance. Youth in all shapes and colors, gathered in bunches all over the campus area, even beside the beautifully lit Royce Hall. Suffice to say, all were relieved to have some time off in the weekend.

“So…you coming, right?”

You looked at Yara upon her casual inquiry with confusion, “For what?”. Scoffing again, this time in disbelief, Yara's eyes widened looking at you: “Dinner?…tonight?”

She stressed, taking a step out of the campus building, “Last week you promised you’ll join me and Chase” with her arms folded and foot tapping on the ground in pure restlessness, she was a clear visual of a loanshark. However, that impatience left her system the moment her eyes fell behind you,“…and speaking of Chase…Baby!”

With her face lit up, her tone grew affectionate as Chase, her boyfriend rushed over to her.

“ ‘sup babe!” The tall, young blonde greeted, pulling his ebony goddess of a girlfriend for a passionate kiss.

Folding your arms, you could not help but avert your eyes. All the while you drew circles with your foot on the ground. Chase and Yara’s relationship certainly was a refreshing one to glimpse upon in the campus premises. You approved of it with sincerity, even when you looked away in awkwardness. It was not on spite. Truthfully, PDA was nothing you disapproved of. You were certainly not envious of the joy they possessed as their lips played with one another, quite similarly to a steamy MTV music video. You merely looked away, for any display of affection was a sheer reminder of him.

It had been months since you last saw him, possibly 6. And constant communication was not exactly convenient for him. Not in his situation. Was he alive and happy? The sheer reminder of gunshots and helicopter whirring forced your heart to race, which was nothing short of new. Granted, you had learnt to ‘compartmentalize’, a term you recently came to knowledge in your psych minor class. Yet, you were young and only human to have those concerns return to haunt you even for a few seconds. The sound of Yara and Chase’s lips smacking urged you to look up. Finally, you thought.

“So?” Yara inquired, casually wiping the smudged lipstick off her face, “You coming?”

Carefree, yet extremely inconsiderate, that was what she exuded. A knot of anxiety formed in your stomach. For oddly enough, the sight of the happy couple managed to drain your energy out tonight. You longed to run away.

“Honestly…” you began with a sigh, “I don’t really feel so good tonigh-”

“¿Qué pasa, guapa?”

   What’s up, gorgeous?  

That voice. That deep, spine tingling tone was a reminder of your mere existence. The tone that tempted every hair in your body to stand at attention. Turning around in a flash, you covered your mouth, shocked to find the person you prayed to see all this time.

“JIM??” You cried out in a muffled tone, “Oh my GOD!!-”

Squealing in pure joy, you sprinted towards Jim Davis before jumping into his arms. Seemingly extremely pleased, Jim let out a hearty laughter. Suddenly the energy you were drained had returned in the form of a shot of adrenaline when he picked you up and spun you around, kissing you without hesitation. And you swore the feel of his lips on yours added a couple of years into your life.

“Wait, you didn’t tell me you were coming back so soon” Breathless, you pointed out when he finally put you down.

“Well, I’m back for good, baby” Jim replied, extending his arms outward with pride. Your eyes widened: “What? You serious?”

“Yep…” he grinned nodding, “Honorably discharged…and all yours”

You sensed his tone morph into a low purr the moment he pulled you close to him. And you would be lying if that did not fill your stomach with butterflies. After ages.

“Umm….”

Yara’s voice emerged. You and Jim turned back, to find her and Chase appearing the most confused, “…you mind telling us who this is…?” She inquired with raised eyebrows.

Finally in realization, you chuckled. For introductions were in order.

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

The aromatic scent crept into your nostrils, only to soon disappear out of the lack of attention provided. All the while an uptempo Latin Pop track playing in the background mingled with Yara and Chase’ voices, but unfortunately faded away into mere mumbles. For none of that seemed to be the key focus for you tonight. Not when Jim Davis was around.

Even seated at a crowded Mexican Restaurant, he mattered the most to you. Even when platefuls of delectable Taquitos* were served to the table, your eyes did not leave his irresistible side profile. And when his sense of expertise noticed and his eyes caught your gaze, you were breathless. You wondered if it was the romantic in you surfacing, for all seemed to appear in slow motion. His eyes remained seductive, washing all over you that it was certain your panties might melt and diminish into thin air. Those eyes were truly sorcerous, that your eyes suddenly had lives of their own to the point you could sense their figurative cheeks heat up with heavy blushes. For his eyes, they were proficient in the dirty talk as much as his mouth was. Breathing in his cheap cologne with depth, you suddenly grew aware of his touch, and the fact he had his arm wrapped around your shoulder all this time. Being lost in his eyes was definitely an out-of-body experience.

“Hey!”

Your soul reunited with your frame upon Yara’s call.

“Mmm?” Looking over at the couple sitting across the table, you and Jim were unfazed.

“Aren’t you two gonna eat?” Yara inquired with raised eyebrows while Chase had began to gobble. Her gaze questioned both your sanity. To which you and Jim could not help but chuckle in response. Shaking her head, Yara scoffed:

“It’s so weird…” she began, “…seeing you like this”. Wiping the crumbs off his mouth, Chase joined in with confidence, “Yeah! How did you guys even meet anyways? I mean, no offense but…we never thought she’d be the one…” he stressed, pointing at you, “… to have an older boyfriend who’s a Marine-”

“-Army Ranger” Jim corrected. His gaze and tone was dominant, enough for Chase to wither with intimidation.

“Yeah…” Chase nodded with a gulp, “…what you said…”. You would be lying if you admit you did not enjoy that sight.

“Actually…” you finally began, “We met a year ago” turning to face your boyfriend, “ He was back in LA during his break. We met at a bar”

“Hold up! ” Raising her hand, Yara was wide eyed, “How come I didn’t know about this?”

“Cause this happened a year ago, hun. Calm down” you chuckled, “Actually, this was even before Cin transferred. Hah! you didn’t miss much…Don’t worry” you assured upon seeing Yara’s pout, “It was a small bar, but I loved the Pistos*-I mean…” you paused with a smile, “….the beer there…” Your pause caused Jim to chuckle alongside once again. Safe to say it was a chuckle that encompassed a shared memory. A sweet reminder of your first ever meeting.

“And?…that’s it?” Chase inquired with amusement, with both hands resting on the wooden table, “You both meet at a bar one night and…” he whistled, “…then sparks flew?”

Looking at them both, you could sense the suspicion in their eyes. You longed to answer, however it was not so easy to do so. Pausing, you struggled with a response.

“Absolutely!”

Jim answered for you with nonchalance, while his grip on you tightened. For a split second you both exchanged a gaze of reassurance. And you had never been more relieved. The secret was safe.

“So…”, Turning towards the couple, Jim began, “How did you lovebirds meet then?”

Hesitation was certainly not in Yara’s vocabulary when she offered to speak. Leaving her sight, your eyes darted towards the the chilled beer that Jim placed on the table. You smiled to yourself. They were certainly filled with memories.

Reminiscing your first meeting with Jim Davis, never failed to be exciting every single time. Before Yara ended up in your life, there was Cindy. Noticing your evident sadness due to her surprise transfer to USC*, Cindy was hell bent in comforting you, thus suggesting you join her and her boyfriend Ray for a night out in South Central. You agreed, being desperate enough to spend the final few days with your roommate. Situated at the suburbs, this bar was small, intimate and seemingly inhabited by those who knew Ray, which resulted in a welcoming atmosphere upon arrival. Though the place was mostly filled with gangsters, you did not care for the slightest, when especially you found yourself falling for the unexpected; The beer.

Chilled to perfection, the beer there was unlike any that you had tasted before. And it was certainly a surprise, given they were the usual brands. You could not fathom the refreshing sensation that trickled down your throat with the first sip. That sensation tempted your hips to sway, urged your feet to move in rhythm. All in syncopation with the music that played in the jukebox under the dim lights. Until finally bumping into a man woke you from your intoxication. A man you were fascinated with in an instant:

Jim Luther Davis.

Such a pity that Yara’s gusto-filled story barely reached your ears. For reliving a memory simply seemed sweeter for you. Thus, you continued to do so.

Fortunately, Jim Davis did not end up being a handsome stranger that you simply bumped into, for coincidence had other plans. Especially, when he and Mike Alonzo turned out to be Ray’s mutual older drinking buddies. You were ecstatic. Internally, of course.

With the entire group packed together in the booth table, it was one loud but engaging hangout. Except for you. Somehow you preferred to sit right next to Cindy in silence, being distracted by two things: Beer, and Jim.

Blame the chemicals embedded in your system, for you simply found yourself drawn to him. Truthfully, it did not seem so difficult to begin with. Not when he turned out to be your type in appearance. You found yourself watching him. The manner in which he listened to others with swagger and confidence, the manner in which he held himself ; They all brought a certain air to him. Your attention had pierced through all manner of secrecy that he would occasionally end up catching your gaze. And then you would look away, quick and embarrassed. Though you must admit, it was a game you thoroughly enjoyed playing. But at the same time, you felt idiotic and childish.

“Cat got yo tongue, baby?”

You blinked, looking up. Fabio, one of Ray’s friends threw the query over to your direction, all of the sudden. And with that, the table grew quiet. All the eyes landed on you, except for Jim’s. A surge of embarrassment rushed towards you when awkward silence filled the booth. For you were definitely distracted to the point you did not follow the conversation. With you struggling to form an answer, Fabio snickered:

“Yo Cindy, What’s up with yo friend? She deaf or somethin’?”

“Easy, homie”

Before Cindy could respond, Jim’s quick reply arose. And you swore your eyes caught the sight of his hand ball into a fist as his eyes had grown dark. Oddly enough, that was the comfort you needed right then.

“Don’t mind me, Fabio…” you shrugged with confidence, “I’m just a girl hooked on her Pistos” you said, enunciating the Spanish word before taking another sip. You may have smiled at him, but you knew how much you feigned it. Awkward silence remained intact. But Ray managed to save the night, by changing the topic of conversation. Slightly embarrassed, Fabio shot you a look. All before he leaned towards his friends, muttering some words in Spanish.

“You speak Spanish?”

Jim’s low query made you turn to him.

“N-No…” you answered with nervousness.

“Well…” he began, “…you should” Though his tone was of seriousness, he did not fail to flash you a soft smile that comforted you even further.

Thus, the evening progressed. And you began to notice Jim in much detail. The more you did, you discovered a warmth that seemed to trickle down your heart. For you realized, you would not be able to stop yourself from falling for him. Hard.

You smiled to yourself, relieved Yara still did not know you were drifting away in your head, stuck in a memory.

Unable to stop obsessing over him since that first night, you remembered how you found yourself returning to the same bar the following night, alone.

Stepping into the venue, you suddenly were aware how unprepared you were. Even while placing an order at the bar counter, you remembered covering your mouth with embarrassment. Was this a mistake?

“Hey Baby! ”

Jumping in your barstool, you sighed with annoyance when you realized it was Fabio sneaking up on you.

“Just…” you feigned a chuckle, “Don’t call me baby, okay?”. Evidently ignorant, Fabio seemed to have chosen to stay. To your dismay. Sporting gold chains on his neck and wrists, Fabio was on a dire attempt to emulate a thriving gangster, when he actually was just another college kid like Ray.

“So, whatcha doing all by yourself, baby? Don’t tell me…you’re here to see yo boi Fabio?”

Keep telling yourself that, you thought. Exhaling in frustration, you maintained a tight smile, “I uh…just waiting for someone” you struggled. Flashing a mischievous smile, Fabio leaned in closer. You prayed he would not notice how your nose scrunched up by his heavy cologne with disgust. And how your body tightened when his eyes scanned you from top to bottom, licking his lips by the sight of your choker and your red, floral short dress.

“Who are we kidding?” He sniggered, “You wanna piece of this, huh? Come o-” “No!” You cut him off, “I’m really…” feigning a chuckle once again, “…waiting for someone…Thanks” you said, extending your hands in defense. Given the reaction of those around you, it may have been a louder response than expected. For Fabio turned red, making it his queue to slither away. You sighed deep. Luck did not seem to get on with you from the moment you stepped in here. Was this a mistake? When you felt a finger tap you on your shoulder, you rolled your eyes and turned around. For you were ready to give Fabio a piece of your mind.

Except, it was not Fabio.

“Hey…”

Jim greeted you, his deep tone announcing his arrival. Standing at an appropriate distance, he stood tall with a hint of swagger. Your body began to finally relax by the sight, especially when your eyes were refreshed by the open plaid shirt worn along with his white vest and baggy pants.

“Hey…” breathless, you began, “Hey!” Confidence finally became you as you repeated with a smile. The bartender caught your attention the moment he placed a chilled bottle of beer on the counter before you.

“Make it two, Hermano* ” Jim said, handing the man some cash. All the sudden, guilt washed over you as you gasped: “Oh I-”

“I got this…” Jim assured, seeing you reach into your bag. Grateful, you nodded, “So…” he began, “Can seem to get enough of them Pistos, hmm?” An inquiry left his lips the moment he received his own bottle. Smiling shyly, you bit the side of your lower lip. The manner in which that word rolled out his tongue caused excitement. Besides, his mouth suddenly seemed more delectable. Oh, his mouth.

“Yeah…” you admitted, “Can’t get enough…and I hope I never will”

You added, gazing directly into his hazel orbs. It simply was a mistake to do so, given how those eyes burnt with curiousity, urging you to blush in return, “And er…” pausing, you looked down, “ I was kinda hoping I’d catch you around” you said, looking up again.

“Yeah?” Jim inquired, genuinely surprised, “Why?”

That was when you froze. He was right, what exactly was your intention of seeing him tonight? Unfathomable on how you gathered courage to blurt that silly line in the first place. What if you dragged yourself all the way here to be rejected? What if there never was a form of enthusiasm from his corner as you hoped? What if this ends up being the story of a silly sophomore college girl, having delusions over an older man?

You chuckled with a nervous tone, “Well I-…” you paused, as your pulse began to grow loud within you, “Sorry…” you muttered, sliding off the stool, “This was just a stupid idea. I should go-”

“Wait!”

You turned upon Jim’s call. Showing his bottle, he shrugged:

“These Pistos aren’t gonna get finished themselves, hmm?” He dared to pose that inquiry with a playful grin. Smiling back involuntarily, you knew you had no comeback for that.

You remembered the chill outside the bar that night. The breeze that caressed your exposed skin of your legs were still fresh in your memory. Gazing at whatever stars your eyes could make out amidst the city lights, you and Jim sipped on the chilled alcohol from the porch. Given the fact there were little to none outside, the evening was unexpectedly intimate.

“Your uh…” clearing your throat, you finally broke the surprisingly comfortable silence, “Your friend not with you tonight?”

“Mike?” Jim inquired, to which you nodded, “Nah! he’s got his hands full” he answered with a smile.

“You guys close?”

“Hell yeah…He’s my homeboy, ya know? Since we were kids”

“Sweet. Must be nice.” You smiled in return, looking back at the sky, “I uh…remember that you serve. Iraq, huh?”

“Yes, Ma’am. Fallujah* ” Jim answered with a nod, looking at you.

“Whoa…” you breathed in wonder. Silence took over once again while your tongue  savored the beverage.

“And you?…UCLA?” Jim spoke before wiping his mouth, “Man! That’s some fancy ass shit right there”

“Yeah well… it ain’t a walk in the park…” you contradicted in a shy tone, forcing him to shoot you a look of concern. To which you chuckled, “I’m on scholarship, I mean…” you added, helping him come to realization, “Hehe yeah…I had to nerd my way into that gig” moving side to side, you could not help but take another sip,“But, I know…what a good thing I got going on. And I know… if I screw it up, then I’m FUCKED” you enunciated the end, which drove him to laughter. You adored how it soothed you somehow.

“Well…” he began, “…whatever fucking takes, right?”

You nodded, “Hell yeah…Here’s to…uh…positive shit! Hah!” You laughed as you both clinked the bottles together. The more alcohol that chose to settle in your system, the bolder you became:

“What’s it like?”

“What?”

You fully turned to him, “Being out there…in Iraq…” you continued, “I mean…I’m guessing you’ve seen some shit…” you inhaled, “you know…shit you can’t forget, right? I mean, shit like that…” you scoffed, “….that shit can fuck…you…up…” at that moment you could not help but find yourself lost in thought.

But Jim’s surprised expression made you pause. You chuckled in embarrassment.

“I’m just…guessing…” you muttered, sipping once again. Perhaps you went a tad bit too far with the blabbering. For your cheeks began to heat up with worry. Until Jim spoke:

“Well…Shit or no shit…Follow orders, that’s what we do” Instead of a frown, Jim replied, taking a huge gulp from his bottle.

“Yeah…I get it” you nodded in a fast pace. Robust, and straightforward, his attitude was to be admired. Funny you found yourself staring at his side profile long enough, his face could easily be compared to that of a statue. Perfect in proportion, your mouth began to dry out. You were attracted to him, shamelessly so.

“I-”, You paused, suppressing a grin, “…never mind”

“What? What is it?” He asked, looking at you. To which you shook your head frantically.

“Nah, it’s really silly…”

“Come on!…tell me” Fully turning, Jim insisted with a smile. His voice had its way of being persuasive. And his voice had its way of tearing your defenses down, or so it seemed. Taking a deep breath, you began:

“I kept thinking about this but…” you paused, “Last night, you said I should learn some Spanish… Why?”

Desperate for more interaction, that was your excuse. Jim responded with a shy chuckle. Certainly was worth it.

“I mean, we just met and you barely knew me…” you continued with a smile, “So…why?” As your question grew more confident, your inner desperation grew strong. Taking his last sip from the bottle, Jim surprised you by taking a step towards you:

“You really wanna know the truth?”

“Try me” , You replied, quickly finishing your own bottle, all without breaking away from his gaze.

And thank goodness you finished it. For you would have surely dropped it. Especially when Jim stood dangerously close to you, causing you to be immediately aware of the muscles between your thighs contracting. Even more so, when his irresistible eyes traveled from your very own all the way to your alcohol stained lips.

“Cause…” he purred, “…you have no fucking clue how sexy you sound”

You both may have chuckled to his line, but that did not mean your pulse did not quicken. Which increased in speed the moment his eyes took hold on yours once again. Seduction, he certainly was proficient in it. And you, were a witness. A witness who suffered from internal combustion of frustration.

You inhaled deep, “Really?” “Yeah…” he breathed in a sultry manner.

Just when you thought no force on earth could break this eye contact, the door burst open. Some men exited. Breaking away, you looked at your watch watch in an instant. You sighed. Real Life was calling you.

“I…I gotta go…” downcast, you muttered with guilt, “Class tomorrow…” adding extra guilt, you knew that excuse certainly did not put you in a good light.

“Lemme drop you then…”

Jim’s nonchalant and nonjudgmental reply urged you to look up with relief. Smiling in agreement, you watched him enter the bar with the empty bottles. And in that very moment, a tingling sensation filled with thrill washed over you, leaving no inch unattended. Butterflies returned to your stomach, fluttering harder than ever before in your life. Were you being hopeful? Could Jim Davis be desiring the same? Goosebumps traveled through you when that tingling sensation returned with much detail. Too much detail to be specific.

Until you realized it was real. And Jim’s hand was directly at fault here.

Blinking back to the present reality, your eyes caught the sight of Jim’s chilled fingers on your leg. They ran over over your inner exposed thigh in circular motion, thus, inciting the tingling sensation. Of course, no wonder the detail was accurate.

Yara and Chase were oblivious to all this, for they were caught up in their own love story as she kept yapping. But that was only the fact Jim kept on such a convincing focused face. He may be ‘listening’ to your friend, but his hand was evidently not. The longer his fingers lingered on your skin, the more you were reminded of him. And the more you began to tingle and sweat in the most unexpected places.

You were young, and unapologetically shameless. 6 months. It was exactly 6 whole months since you were last physically intimate with your boyfriend. And with studies piling up along with the expectation of a scholarship holding sophomore, ‘getting yourself off’ was never an option. Not with a roommate around.

The tingling sensation grew even stronger. And you began to hear your own quickening breath. Jim Davis’ elongated fingers, they spoke of pride. You longed for them to travel to locations far more adventurous and private than your thighs. Especially when they were rife with experience. Truthfully, it was a fact that his hands and his delicious lips and tongue were fluent in your body than your own self. Being pleasure deprived for too long, the mere thought of him ravishing you, aroused you even more. Aroused, and certainly very starved. The kind that food simply could not satisfy.

“...and under the stars…” Yara continued, holding on to Chase with lovestruck eyes, “…he told me he loved m-”

“Excuse me!”

Cutting her off, you cried out as you stood up in an instant.

“What’s up with you?” Chase inquired, whilst Yara looked offended.

“Just I gotta…pee…” you lied, eyes landing on Jim, “…now”

“Okay…” you heard Chase mutter in kind as you left the table, “…TMI, but whatever”

In all fairness, being judged was the least of your concerns. With every speedy step you took, the faster your heart began to beat. Storming into the empty ladies room, you found yourself staring at a mirror once again, with a heaving chest and noticeably flushed cheeks. It was plain to see, you were engulfed in the flames of pure arousal, and the fire needed to be put out.

And when the bathroom door opened up once again, you turned to find the fireman enter. Wearing a serious expression, it was slightly difficult to decipher his thoughts.

“I…” you struggled as Jim strode towards you, “I didn’t know what else to do-” Except he knew. When he attacked you with a passionate kiss.

Jumping into him was reflexive. Wrapping your legs around his waist seemed almost choreographed. Finally resting on the washroom sink, it was quite safe to admit how both of you were very much relieved to be the only occupants in the room. For there was no intention of holding back. Your denim skirt hiked high up, revealing your thighs in completion under the white fluorescent lights as Jim stood between your legs. And they were much cared for, as his hands gingerly rubbed them back and forth while his lips indulged yours with hunger.

“You think they know I lied?”

Breathless, you inquired with innocence. Except you did not receive an instant reply. Not when you found yourself gasping when he pulled your head back by your hair with a growl. With liberated access to your bare neck, Jim celebrated by placing equally starving kisses all over, resulting in your surprising moans.

“You think I fuckin’ care?” He chuckled into your skin, to which you could not help but chuckle back:

“Oh no, you bad boy” you purred in tease.

“Oh yeah, baby girl …” purring back, his reply incited a giggle out of you before he kissed you once again.

“Ay Papi*!” You breathed into his lips before he snatched up yours for good. Surroundings were simply irrelevant the moment the kiss turned intense, as his tongue crashed in like the rude boy he was, and grabbed onto your own tongue in a passionate embrace. They clashed against one another in frenzy, him claiming you as his. As the kiss grew deeper, your moans grew louder. When he pulled away all the sudden, whimpers left your lips with desperation. Teasing you so, Jim took a good look at you:

“¿Como esta tu Español?” He breathed low. And you were pleased that you actually understood.

   How’s your Spanish?  

Pressing himself against you, he began to slowly grind. You grew excited. Listening to Jim Davis speak Spanish was simply erotic in the first place. And since you have been studying it on your own for past few months, you were certainly impatient to show him.

“Yo…” you began, finding the words “…estudio pala-sorry…” with a nervous chuckle, you looked down, “..I know I suck-”

“No no…keep going” Jim insisted with a smile, bringing your chin up for a reassuring kiss, “Now say it again…” he added, maintaining eye contact with ferocity. Taking a deep breath, all the words clearly appeared in your head. Thus, you flashed a mischievous grin:

“…estudiando palabras…muy importantes”

   I am studying…very important words.  

Gasping was all you could do when Jim picked you up, carrying you into the nearest toilet booth. Thankfully with this restaurant being surprisingly hygienic, you did not mind. Life barely was embedded in your legs the moment he put you down, locking the door behind you to push you against it.

“Oh yeah?” He inquired, panting, “¿Cómo cuál?”

   Like what?  

Panting alongside him, you stood up straight, “Por ejemplo…”

   For example…  

Amidst his pants and his impressed expression, you grabbed his hands, placing them over your buttocks. All the while you looked at him with eyes, heavy with lust:

“¡Haz lo que quieras!”

You could not believe how confident you sounded. Smiling with equal lust in his eyes, Jim kissed you in approval, definitely pleased with what he just heard:

   (Do) whatever you want!  

Growling with effect, his animalistic nature was exuded as his hands gripped onto your buttocks with passion. His big, generous hands felt through every cheek with familiarity, as if they just reunited with a long lost friend. But that did not mean he forgot about all the other friends, the rest of your frame that had missed him as well. Moaning with pleasure, you began to unbutton his white shirt during in haste.

You simply adored his hands, for they were as passionate as his Spanish was. As he proceeded to hold on to your hips, your own hands roamed over his torso over his white vest. Except you froze the second his hands landed on your chest. Shaky breaths exited your lips as you shivered by his touch, for your breasts were at its most sensitivity even through your thin cardigan top. Palming them generously, Jim groaned into your lips:

“Fuck! I missed you, Guapa”

“I missed you more, Papi”

Confessing in return, you kissed him once more. Moans of desperation mixed into your kisses the moment his hands dipped inside your cardigan crop top, only to make direct contact with your untethered bosom. You winced involuntarily, even from his touch so gentle. Jim chuckled with seeming victory. And you were not afraid to admit, how you were simply in the palm of his hand.

Usually, during the peak pre-menstruation, you dared not let anyone come close to you, let alone touch you. But when it was Jim Davis, those rules halt by the door. He was a man who could maneuver his touch. However, he certainly was no good boy. Proceeding with his sweet torture during kisses, you were relieved to have a door to keep you balanced. For his long fingers, they flicked, encircled and pulled your now-sensitive nipples, keeping them fully erect and thoroughly visible even through the clothes.

Gripping his vest even tighter, you pressed your thighs together, for intense levels of pleasure and sensitivity crashed within you, akin to an avalanche. In truth, it simply was an overdose, and you could not handle. You were a mere animal trapped in this cage of frustration. But like an animal, you managed to set yourself free. You pushed Jim back with such force, that he ended up sitting on the closed toilet seat behind him. A surprised expression adorned his face when you straddled him in the process. Peeling your cardigan off your torso, you hinted your need for him. Which immediately was motivation for him to unbuckle his pants. However, his eyes did not fail to leave your sight while he did. For his eyes revealed nothing but pure amazement and hunger. He inhaled deep:

“Fuck!” He uttered, while his hand dipped into his hardened manhood.

“Yeah, that’s right Papi…” you breathed, maintaining the ironclad gaze. All the while you permitted his hand to feel the intense dampness of your opening, “Fuck me!”

And thus, public decency went flying out the window the moment the lovers fully united. The manner in which his hands rested on your bare back; whilst you moved upwards and downwards in syncopation to his thrusts, it drove you wild. The manner in which his generous and erect shaft felt so familiar inside of your tight walls, was too intoxicating as always. His mutual desperation and hunger translated well, as his lips savored on your swollen and sensitive bosom as if they were treasured food rations. Tingles were divided into million branches, impacting every form of stimuli in your system. But even in the midst of these endless waves of pleasure, that certain question from Chase yet lingered in your mind:

  “And?…that’s it? You both meet at a bar one night and…then sparks flew?” “Absolutely!”  

For in truth, it was not just a night of drinking and playful flirting that caused this relationship to blossom. And just like that, You could not help but recall further.

And peek into the moment that remained stored in the deepest corner of your mind. In the form of a secret.

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

With arms folded, you kept on waiting. Long enough for the chill outside to grow stronger. Long enough for you to begin pacing nervously. Even long enough for several men to exit the bar during. Given its cabin exterior, it became more and more evident that this was more of an old fashioned bar. You sighed. Jim was certainly taking a little bit too long inside.

Paranoia knocked on your heart’s door, forcing you to welcome it inside with reluctance. Thus, several questions began to occupy your thinking space. Was there trouble inside? A possible Bar Fight? You shook your head, for you were surely being delusional. Or worse, was this a part of his plan all along? The player type to ditch you for someone else? Perhaps with someone better looking that he just met. Envy formed in your heart towards a woman that possibly may not even exist. Your stomach turned in a merciless fashion. When the door opened again, a surge of hope grew in you. Could it finally be Jim?

Except it was not.

“Baby! You still around huh?”

Fabio said, in a pleased tone, exiting the bar. Clicking your tongue in an involuntary fashion, you turned away with frustration. For he was the last person you hoped to lay eyes upon.

“Hey-Wha-What’s the matter?” Fabio cried, “Can’t look at a friend?” Whilst he tapped you on the shoulder repeatedly. Alcohol was strong in his presence. And the fact he stood uncomfortably close certainly turned your stomach even more.

“Well, technically you’re not my friend” With a forced smile, you turned to him, “You’re Ray’s friend, OKAY? ” a snappy tone exited your lips. And for a split second, there was genuine offense painted in Fabio’s face.

“Just tryna be nice, jeez!” He muttered low, with arms lifted. Coming one’s senses, you finally drew in deep breath while letting your arms loose.

“I…I’m sorry, dude”  you said, in a soft tone, staring the droopy eyed young man. Being Cindy’s friend, your last intention was to cause friction Ray and his friends. Your tone seemed to have been convincing enough, for Fabio flashed a soft smile in return:

“It’s okay…” he replied, to which you were relieved.

But that relief was short lived. Especially when Fabio leaned forward with puckered up lips in an instant, forcing you to gasp.

“What the hell, man?” You inquired, pushing him back with aggression.

“Ah come on, baby…” he drawled, chuckling in a playful manner, “Just one kiss…I mean, look at you! You still waiting out here. For who? I know… you really came here for me” with open arms, he went in for an embrace. Scoffing, you pushed him back again. That was when your pulse quickened again. To the point you hoped to flee.

“That’s it! I’m leaving! ”

You snapped, darting away from the entrance. The concern of leaving Jim behind or finding a cab did not seem problematic anymore, for all you needed was to get away. However, a painful cry left your lips when you felt your hair being pulled back. Your eyes widened. It was an angry Fabio.

“Ugh! Why you being such a Puta* right now, huh?” He said through gritted teeth, pulling you closer “Oh wait I forgot…” he snickered, “….you don’t understand Spanish, right bitch?” turning you to him. The alcohol had certainly rendered him more maniacal than ever.

“Don’t’ be a jerk, Fabio…” You cried, as you began to swing desperate punches towards his direction. But your defenses were lowered and moot, the moment he grabbed you tight by the wrists. You gasped, “..let… me… go! HELP! ”.

However, despite your cries, no one came to your aid.

This feeling, certainly was the ‘stuff of nightmares’. This feeling, had haunted you every now and again in imagination. To have it form into reality, was worse. No matter the force you exerted to free yourself, it seemed moot. For Fabio had the upper hand with his strength. And you were overpowered with intimidation. With the heartbeat increased in record speed, your heart was on the verge of exploding with fear. For the first time, you feared for your life. You despised the fact there was no one around, the fact this bar was on the outskirts. Almost close to tears, You heavily despised the fact you may be getting hurt in more ways than one tonight.

Until you heard a bottle shatter. Loud.

Glass fragments dripped from Fabio’s head as he cried out with immense pain. His grip on you loosened before he dropped down to the ground. Only for you to find Jim Davis standing behind him, with with a bottle broken in hand, and sheer rage in his eyes.

Rolling over, Fabio caught the sight of the man, “Jim??” He groaned, “What the hell, man? Why you helping this bitch-ARGH!”

A kick in the stomach was Jim’s choice in response, which incited more cries from the fool.

“THE FUCK YOU TOUCH HER FOR, HUH?” Jim yelled, his loud voice piercing through the tension like high pressured flames. However, the question seemed rhetoric, when he continued to kick Fabio, aggression growing more and more evident, “FUCKING…ASS…HOLE!” With tightened fists, he enunciated with each kick, “MOTHERFUCKE-”

“JIM!!!!”

You cried in an instant. And that very moment was when he finally froze. That fateful moment, you watched his face change, for his expression was clear as day. As if a wave of realization washed over him. As if bitter reality surprised him with a sucker punch.

All the while he stared down at his finished product: Fabio. He watched the the young man groan for his dear life, laying defeated and thoroughly bruised; all the while a weak stream of blood appeared prominent from his head and his mouth, adding a splash of bright color to the dark and dusty pavement.

Which was transparent enough for you, the witness.

You regretted being frozen with shock. If it only was for you to control. Thankfully a shred of it reached when you finally mustered the strength to call for him out from a potential murder. Violence, Danger, your trembling heart sensed it all. All from Jim. For that was what his strong aura emitted. However, despite your shock, never did you flinch. Never did your heart consider retracting from him or running away.

On the contrary, you were compelled to trust him even further. Especially when you sensed complete safety in him, above all others.

“Let’s go…”

You found yourself uttering those words, as you took his hand in urgency. Pulling him with haste, you both fled from the scene. Adrenaline coursing through the veins whilst running away, leaving a wounded man laying in his own mess before anyone could find out.

You remembered how Jim drove. Quiet, but focused. He drove and drove, until the bar disappeared from your sight. He drove to the point you both found yourselves ending up at a remote beach. And finally, time had returned to its normal pace once again.

Calming sounds of the ocean waves filled your ears, while the sight of the foamy waters barely were visible in the darkness. You watched Jim slowly take his hands from the wheel, rubbing his face. Your eyes widened, when you noticed his hand bleeding slightly. Perhaps from the broken bottle. You longed to speak, however no voice was present. Pushing the seat back, Jim slowly crawled over to the back of the car. Silence overpowered for too long, which urged you to clear your throat and speak:

“A…Are you ok-”

“You’re right, you know…”

You paused, upon hearing Jim’s interruption. Looking back from the front passenger seat, you found light finally shining on his face. Much to your sadness, cracks formed in your heart by the sight of his expression. Especially when silent tears streamed down his chiseled face. As if his mask of bravery was stripped away. Or even melted.

“You’re right…shit’s been crazy over there…” he chuckled with sadness, “…worse, shit’s crazy over here too…” he said, pointing at his own head.

Joining him in the backseat, you took the bandana off your head without hesitation.

“The thing’s I’ve seen…” he continued in mid-whisper, “The shit I had to do. The shit I wanted to do. It’s fucked up…so fucked up”.

It was unfathomable. Witnessing emotions of Jim Davis on variant scale in one single night, including him unveiling his vulnerability, you did not know where to begin processing. Simultaneously, those cracks in your heart, they could not help but form deeper to the point you ached inside. For a second, you were filled with an overwhelming desire for this misery in his heart to disappear. You longed for him to smile again. You froze. Were you tasting a slice of pure affection? Perhaps even, love? For him?

“It’s too fucked up…I’M fucked up-”

“Hey…hey…”

Your voice cracked when you finally began, leaning towards him, “Shhhh…It’s okay…” you said in comfort, while rubbing his forearm, “…its okay…I’m here” you said, as you occupied yourself with tending to his bleeding hand as a coping mechanism. The bleeding that he did not even notice.

With his hand on yours, the heart did feel heavier in comparison. As if his hand was magnetically powerful enough to keep you nearby. Thus, forming an attraction. Not the type that stirred the loins, but merely the kind that longed for you to wail on behalf of him. The kind to carry the pain for him. As if you did not wish to carry on another minute of your life, without knowing he would be well. And you would be lying if you did not want to show him that.

Your trembling hand reached out for his surprised face, turning it towards you with patience. The deep breath you took, it occupied your lungs in completion. Butterflies exploded in your stomach , causing a riot before you moved close. Close enough to feel his breath on your face. And close enough to press your lips on both his cheeks.

You tasted his salty tears, that stained his face. Pressing your own lips together, you hoped you could share his pain this way. Your eyes were smart, urging your voice to take a breather, whilst they gazed at his lips. Those lips that turned you greedy the moment you saw first laid eyes on them. And his trembling breaths of despair were enough for you to finally dispose of any form of hesitation.

For you finally moved to kiss him ever so gently on the lips.

With your kiss, you were there for him, in spite of it all. In spite of the violence and the tears. And the moment you instantly felt Jim kiss you back, you knew you were hopelessly his.

All the sudden, a dose of sweetness was infused with the salty kisses, weakening the flavor of the beer that lingered in his mouth. Selfishly, the need for comfort vanished. For all you needed was him. In every possible manner. Safe to say, Jim wholeheartedly agreed.

A sudden injection of passion entered your systems, setting your bodies in its entirety, in flames. Which also included the loins. Powerful enough for you to straddle him, powerful enough for Jim to flip you down to hover over you. And certainly powerful enough for the both of you to make love.

You treasured it all. The manner in which his fingers were precise, hooking on to your panties to gingerly peel them out of your frame. The manner in which his eyes gazed upon your own, then traveling all the way south to take in the sight of your now exposed opening, that dripped with wetness, blushing in its own means and begging him to explore it. Thus, it was to be expected, when you welcomed him inside you effortlessly. As if it had waited for him all your life.

Even for the first time, Jim was fast, and was rough. Yet surprisingly, you did not care. You knew where it originated. And it seemed most apt.

While he moved in body, he fled in heart. Away from the horrors, away from the pain. This resulted from his need for a distraction. Amidst the syncopated moans that filled the car, you cupped his face. Looking right into his hazel orbs, you witnessed his need. His need for a distraction. And at the peak of climax, you witnessed his desperation. His desperation, that urged you to never him go.

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

         (Present)      

“I failed the test…”

Jim uttered low, capturing your attention. With your face buried in his neck, you heard it louder than ever. Tilting your head, you sat up straight to face him, confusion taking over. After reaching climax following a session of passionate and exciting love-making in a restaurant toilet booth, there you both were in recovery. Never did you expect him to break the silence with a statement such as this.

“What do you mean?” You inquired in a half whisper.

“The Psych test…” Jim elaborated, while you proceeded to put your cardigan top back on,  “…for the LAPD gig” sighing, he was downcast “I failed that shit…”

“No….” You breathed. The disappoint that was rife in his tone, somehow pierced through your heart. Thus, ushering in a wave of sadness that came crashing in, “Baby, I’m so sorry…” you said as you embraced him tight. To your surprise, Jim held you tightly in his arms in return. For when he buried his face on the crook of your neck and remained in silence for a mere few seconds, it was evident that was what he was required of. A rush of butteries attacked as you gently cupped his face.  You loved this man, and your heart was the witness.

“Fuck the cops if the they can’t relate” you said through gritted teeth, before kissing both his cheeks, “Fuck ‘em! Cause something better is comin’ ” you added with a soft smile, while your thumb ran over his upper lip, “We just gotta ...keep our heads straight”

To your relief, Jim seemed amused, “Speaking from experience?”

You smiled with pride, “You could say that…”

Both of you chuckled. “The point is…” you continued with a deep sigh, and huge smile, “I’m glad you’re back for good, baby”

Except for his own smile, it vanished right then. And in turn, his eyes watered and they shone, reflecting nothing but desperation and vulnerability. You took pride in being the one to witness it, just as you did that fateful night a few months back. Stroking your head with both hands, his forehead gently touched yours:

“¡Eres mia!” He breathed deep.

   You’re mine!  

How dare he? Expanding with immense warmth and impatience, it did not take long for your heart to gain rapid pace, as it was your very first time.

“¡Si, para siempre!”  You answered with confidence. For it was simply the truth.

   Yes, Forever! 

——————————————————

Index

UCLA : The University of California, Los Angeles Salud: Spanish term for “Cheers!” Guapa: Spanish term for Beautiful, Gorgeous Taquitos: A Mexican Food Dish Pisto: Mexican slang. A general term for an alcoholic beverage (usually beer) USC: University of Southern California Fallujah: A city in Iraq Papi: Spanish Term for Daddy Puta: Derogatory Spanish term for bitch, whore

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[shy-poet-marvel]

Mind and Heartache

Peter Parker X Male reader

Author’s Note : Hey guys, haven't post a story in a while so here you go. 

Summary : Someone attacked Peter. You, his boyfriend with telepathic/telekinetic powers must found out who

Warning : Male!reader, angst, reader focused, mention of blood and some broken bone

Word Count : 2887

Inspired by @bigfan-fanfic​​

Gif by : @sincerelysaraahh​

*Want to request something? Just ask!*

*Constructive criticism are welcome*

One of Peter’s hand is clutching the side of his stomach while the other one is prompted against a wall, both are covered in blood. ‘How many ribs did I break?’ Peter wondered, ‘three, four, or maybe even six?’, it feels all the same to him, his whole body hurt. He limped across the dark alleyway, ‘what matter is he already send his distress signal, they will come soon’, Peter’s thought was interrupted by that cold and ruthless sound. “Itsy bitsy spider climbed up the water spout, down came the rain and washed the spider out”

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(Y/N)’s body was backed up against the wall in front of the bed, which Peter’s body lies lifeless in. Machinery surrounds him and tubes are coming out of his mouth, the morning sun still makes him look ethereal, but now is not the kind that you admire. His brain activity was low, too low. Wanda managed to intervene and stabilize his mind, but it almost like he’s gone, like a faint whisper just out of your earshot while loud noises enveloped his soft cries.

“He got jumped on by someone, someones, the crime scene was very contaminated by other variables that aren’t important, so combing through it will take a long time. Unfortunately, all of the Avengers were on a mission, so the ones that were able to respond were standard S.H.I.E.L.D agents”, normally when Tony Stark is addressing you, you should pay close attention, but now, all you cared about is who did this to your Peter.

“No use, it’s all blurry and disoriented, I’m guessing he had a lot to process when it happened. Trust me (Y/N), I’ve tried”, Wanda said out loud before you even try reading through his mind and the thought of Wanda poking through Peter’s mind makes you sick to your stomach, but if she can’t do it, in your condition right now, you cant do it too. “We’re doing our best to keep him alive, we’ll keep you updated, now go home (Y/N). You need to rest”

“All right”, you said reluctantly. The door to Peter’s room, your mind is made up.

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“Can I have latte and that chocolate brownies?”

“Do you want to have the brownies re-heated?”

“Yes, please”, you then gave your card to pay for your order.

You sat across the window, looking at the stream of human going about their day. One are excited for their first date, while another are scared because they broke their new phone. Still not the one you’re looking for.

“Here’s your order”, the waitress sat down a vanilla latte with a love drawn on it and a warm chocolate brownies.

“Thank you”, you smiled at her and then continue searching.

This is another café you have visited in the last couple of hours. You aren't used to this amount of caffeine even though you usually like coffee. Another latte you order to drink on the go. It was a nice day out actually. The setting sun lay a golden hue to the city as you walked along its block, sipping on your coffee occasionally while walking back to Peter’s apartment. Aunt May was kind enough to let you stay at Peter’s room when he’s still in the hospital and unable to be visited. To show your gratitude for her you are the one who did all the cleaning and the chores.

After arriving at the apartment you started doing the laundry, with May’s shift and Peter at the ward no one is there to do it. While waiting for the laundry you decided to cook something, with the groceries you bought at a nearby deli. You prepped all the ingredients that you need, thinking about what you should make and decided on meatballs, macaroni, and cheese with cuts of smoked beef, a soup, and some fried rice. When all is done you eat the leftover pizza that’s on the fridge accompanied by some of the meatballs you cooked. You put all that’s left in containers and put a note on the table that states May’s dinner, breakfast, and lunch are all in the fridge and only needed to be re-heated. You spent sometime after dinner ironing and folding the clothes that are out of the dryer before you went to bed, with your nose buried in his sweater.

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"I need to tell the Avenger about this", Peter muttered under his breath while climbing down the side of the building he is on. He only managed a few feet of swinging before he fell. He was shot at the right side of his abdomen. His back slam against the concert of the silent part of town.

 One of Peter’s hand is clutching the side of his stomach while the other one is prompted against a wall, both are covered in blood. ‘How many ribs did I break?’ Peter wondered, ‘three, four, or maybe even six?’, it feels all the same to him, his whole body hurt. He limped across the dark alleyway, ‘what matter is he already send his distress signal, they will come soon’, Peter’s thought was interrupted by that cold and ruthless sound. “Itsy bitsy spider climbed up the water spout, down came the rain and washed the spider out”

"You can break my bone, hurt me, beat me up, even kill me, but for the love of God and all things good, do not hurt him", Peter said as intimidating as he could.

The man stood in silence before continuing the rhyme, "out came the sun, and dried up all the rain, and the itsy-bitsy spider founded dead. The end"

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The next morning when you woke up you have a massive headache, like every brain cell that you have is on fire and just ready to explode ‘maybe this is the side effect of over-exerting your power’, you thought, you never really use your power to this much capacity over the last few days. You barely get into the kitchen without falling, when you hear a knock on the door. Trying your best to read who it is, but failed, like someone is blocking you or because when you did it your whole body hurts. With the last bit of your power, you took one of the kitchen knives and dragged yourself to the door. Your vision was hazy so you didn’t know who it was through the peephole.

“Who is it?”, you mustered up every ounce of power that you had to sounded normal.

“It’s us”, you opened the door to Wanda and Natasha.

You let them in and you guys talked about Peter’s condition, he’s getting better, slowly but surely, his physical condition is getting stable by the day, but still can’t be visited. You sigh in relief, it was the best news you heard all week.

“You know that we are doing our best to investigate who did this to Peter”, Natasha spoked softly.

Shocked because you know that she sounded like she knew what you’ve been doing before you ready to blame Wanda on reading your mind Natasha spoked. “I was a spy for most of my life, it’s not hard to read what you’ve been doing with just a few glance”.

So you talked more about how the investigation has been going, you also told them what you already find. Before they leave Natasha spoke, “I’ve been there you know, wanting revenge, it was never the answer, never will. I’m not your mom, so I can't tell you what to do or not to do, what I can tell you is be careful and you're not in this alone”, she gave you a button and then leave.

Your grumbling stomach requests your attention before anything else, so you head to the kitchen once again. May left a thank you note on the fridge, opening it you see that May finished the soup, some of the fried rice, and brought the meatballs for her lunch. You eat what’s left of the fried rice in silence, wondering what to do. You decided on taking a shower before doing anything else. After getting out of the shower you went into Peter’s room to put on some clothes. With a black Nasa sweatshirt that you have and black sweatpants, you went out. The first couple of hours wasn’t productive because your powers were still acting up, your head still feels like it was going to explode, but not as bad as it was in the morning. Without you realized it was noon already. With some sandwiches and bottled water, you take your lunch in the near park bench. Eating alone again while watching people go about their day. After you threw away the trash in the garbage can nearby, you walked around the small park. Seeing a tree you decided to sit on it. Without realizing you drifted off.

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It was supposed to be just a normal patrol, maybe catch some muggers, web some burglars, and maybe, just maybe prevent a heist. But this, this is above his power, how much Peter doesn’t want it to be.

“The plans are going smoothly, I presumed”, a man in black tuxedo spoke.

“Yes, we’ve already found out his patterns, his associates, people that are close to him, and most importantly, his ties to our friendly, neighborhood spider”, a man in a hooded robe answer.

Peter was shocked, who could this group of people are. Targeting him, or the people around him. They noticed Peter was eavesdropping on the conversation.

“There he is our little spider, gracing us with his presence”, the man in the black tuxedo announced. Peter can feel guns pointing at him.

“If you do anything to me, the Avengers will know about it”, Peter shouted while pushing his distress signal.

“ The world doesn’t just revolve around you or your little Avenger friend”, the man in the black tuxedo smiled coldly.

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

You got woken up by the rough wind. Unlike the other day, today seemed to be a gloomy one. The clouds are rolling in heavily, it’s going to rain, hard. You were only a couple of blocks away before it rained like cats and dogs. Entering Peter’s apartment, you were soaked to the bone. To your surprise, May was home, in the middle of the day.

“Oh my god (y/n) go dry up and change into some other clothes, I’ll make some tea”, she pushed you into Peter’s room. Wearing his sweater and some short, you put the wet clothes on the dryer before you sat down in the living room, next to May.

She offered you some hot tea to warm you up. “The hospitals let me leave early, Meg cover the rest of my shift for today, fortunately, I got home before it was raining”, she looked to you while you sipping on the comforting tea.

“Before I got home I visited Peter in the hospital, maybe you were there. I was planning on taking you to an ice cream shop or something, thanking you for doing so many chores for these past few days”, sadness sipped out of her every word.

“But when I arrived at Peter’s room I didn’t find you anywhere. He’s still can’t be visited but I was hoping you were waiting outside. I was ready on looking for you in the hospital. That’s when Natasha came to me and said that you never visited Peter since the day he was admitted”, she looked at you, stared at you with tears pooling in her eyes.

“What have you been doing these past few days (y/n)?”, May asked a question you don’t dare answer.

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

You were ecstatic, you finally find a lead on who attacked Peter. You told Natasha and here you are on an impromptu Avengers meeting.

“I didn’t get much since it was outside of my range. All I got was the named Jack O’ Riley, something about Project Liberation, and the code name ‘Sound’, you spoke to the one present, which is Tony, Wanda, Natasha, Clint, and Bruce.

“Jack O’ Riley, somehow that named seemed familiar”, Bruce spoke.

“Because it is, he worked with HYDRA before, we come across his name couple of times, we didn’t what role he play, until now”, Natasha spoked.

“Where were you when you find this out (y/)?”, Tony asked.

“I was just on the outside of Queens, maybe they’re in Brooklyn?”, you answered.

“F.R.I.D.A.Y you know what to do, let’s get to work guys, double time”, announced Tony.

“We will find those who did this to him and we will bring them to justice”, Wanda reassured you.

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

You sneak around the abandoned warehouse, using your power to hide your presence, but you still need to walk quietly. You stepped into the abandoned warehouse through the broken window on the top and slowly glide down to the behind a container.

You wanted to sneak around but someone announced your presence, “Finally, we’ve been waiting for you”.

Knowing your cover is blown you stopped hiding your presence and got out of the backside of the container, “you must be a telepath, being able to sense my presence like that, I know I should've concealed my presence more”.

You saw a man with a black tuxedo standing there, the darkness behind him. He stood with the support of a walking cane.

“Why did you target Spiderman?”, you shouted, knowing this man right here was the one that’s behind Peter’s attack.

“Peter was never our goal”, he smiled before snapping his fingers, and you were bombarded by a barrage of bullets from all sides.

You didn’t have time to wonder how you didn’t sense any man or machine inside the warehouse expect the one in front of you right now. You created a force field with your telekinetic powers. Minutes went by and they didn’t show any sign of stopping, you mustered up some power to produce a shock wave, stopping the rain of bullets.

“Marvelous, marvelous, you’re better than we expected”, the man in the black tuxedo clapped his hands.

You were astounded, with that blast he should've been sent flying, but he’s still standing with nothing on him. A hooded figure shows up next to him, but since when you should've felt them but you got nothing like it was dead.

“Where are my manners, my name is Jack O’ Riley and this is my sweet Nathan”, you were flown back to the stack of old crates as soon as he finished talking, thanks to your telekinesis you were able to soften the blow.

You saw him leaping to you, so you throw some of the broken crates to him before you doges his attack. You rested you back to a container before you can react he already got you pinned.

“You see, Nathan here is a telepath, but his power was weak. Until we figure out a way to take the telepathic and telekinetic ability of another just like him, the price is the person that we take their ability from died. Peter was a setup, we did want to kidnap him before that damned agents storm the place, but I guess by breaking a few of his bone did well enough to bring you here”, Jack said that as he walked to you.

“The sound of his bone when it cracked, the way he practically begged to spare you life, he was pathetic. You should've seen his face”, Nathan dumped images of Peter on the ground, the pain he felt, the fear that consumed him, the readiness to die to save you.

It makes you mad, enrage, furious. All of that anger you channeled into your power, it manifests by creating a big shock wave, big enough to destroy the warehouse. You can still see Nathan and Jack still breathing, badly wounded but still breathing, maybe Nathan tried to shield them both but it was only enough to let them on the brink of death. No matter what, more fun for you.

You lifted them up and then smashed them on the ground, “Did you feel that that’s what my Peter feel when you shot him down”.

You started to break their bones, “Do you like it when it’s you bones that are being broken?”, one by one, starting from their arms you break them.

“(Y/N)! Stop this! Please, I’m begging you”, you heard his voice. A voice soft as the sunrise but now is filled with pain and hurt. ‘Who dare hurt his Peter?’ you thought before you realize that most of the Avengers are around with Peter. You saw him there, standing, healthy, safe and sound, and afraid of you. You dropped down slowly, with two of you victims that are quickly being taken care of by the medic team.

You walked slowly to Peter, your Peter, that’s here, not in a hospital bed, with machinery around him. You only manage a few steps before falling, but not to the cold, hard, ground. The soft, warm, arms of your boyfriend are the one that breaks it.

“There, there, (y/n) everything is going to be all right, no need to cry”, Peter said to your eyes, whipping away the tears you didn’t know you have. He places a comforting kiss inside of his warm hug. You felt it was only you two in this world.

#male reader #male!reader #x male reader #m!reader #peter parker #peter parker x #peter parker x reader #peter parker x male reader

[swtorpadawan]

It Could Always Be Worse

Author’s Notes: The following story takes place sometime between Chapters 9 and 15 of Knights of the Fallen Empire.

It could always be worse. Gann thought to himself grudgingly.

Gann Vondern, a section head of Balmorran Arms, experienced the feeling as he stepped out of the hover-taxi, paid the driver, then turned to make his way back to his apartment complex after what had been a long day at the office.

If he were honest with himself, most of his days at the office had been running long for quite some time, now.

As he made his way up the walkway, he couldn’t help but look up at the horizon, his eyes inevitably drawn to what seemed to be the primary source of most of his problems these days.

The Zakuulan Star Fortress hung in low orbit over Balmorra, where it had been hovering for the past four years. With its looming presence, it was nearly impossible to transport anything of significant size either on or off the planet without the Eternal Empire’s official approval. That hadn’t stopped the corporate executives from trying, of course. But their overall sales these days – both their ‘approved’ shipments to the Republic and their black-market trade – were a fraction of what they once were. The Fortress periodically repositioned itself to center its attention (and its advanced observation capabilities) on the heart of Balmorran industrial might, the Sundari Flatlands. Sundari was the home to the famous Balmorran Arms Factory as well as more than a dozen other production and research facilities. Gann hadn’t been there at the time, but he’d heard that the battles for the flatlands – the most defensible position on all Balmorra with its trenches and natural fortifications – fought between the Sith Empire and the Galactic Republic had once represented the decisive clashes not only for the planet, but for the entire galaxy.

The Star Fortress could have annihilated the entire valley along with all of its vaunted defenses and all of its inhabitants with a single blast of its main cannon.  

Under the threat of that sort of pressure, all Balmorra had suffered. Economically and otherwise.

It hadn’t always been such. This world had once seemed a golden land of opportunity to Gann.

After years of suffering under Imperial rule, Balmorra had been liberated during the last war and had enjoyed a few precious years of prosperity with Republic credits pouring in and Balmorra’s weapons factories working almost non-stop to produce as much material as possible for the war effort, with everything from battle droids to blaster rifles to capital ship weapons coming off the assembly line. The devastated planet had been rebuilding rapidly; indeed, the ultra-modern apartment complex where Gann, his wife and daughter lived at the edge of the Flatlands was one such legacy of that ‘golden’ era. They had moved to Balmorra during these prosperous times, with Gann’s obvious talent in the fields of robotics and cybernetics quickly netting him a plum position at Balmorran Arms. Within two years, despite being an émigré – and possessing a slightly nervous social demeanor – he’d been promoted to section head of Research and Development of Cybernetic Projects. Talera, his wife and a skilled biochemist in her own right, soon gained a position advising the planetary government in the restoration of Balmorra’s devastated agriculture. His daughter Darial began attending a prestigious local school and was soon earning top marks. The rest of the galaxy may have been at war, but here on Balmorra, with their thriving military industry and newfound optimism, times had been good.

Then the Eternal Empire had attacked.

More war should have been good for a planet where the primary export was military weaponry, but that simple economic model depended upon the war being ‘ongoing’. Balmorra may have been spared another invasion, but it had nevertheless been subjugated by the blockade of ships from the Eternal Fleet.

Within a year of the initial attacks, both the Galactic Republic and the Sith Empire had effectively surrendered, forced to sign unfavorable treaties. Worse still for Balmorra, they had been forced to accept crippling restrictions to their respective militaries. Orders of equipment had been slashed dramatically. Times had grown lean for Balmorra and its illustrious defense industries as the planet had depended upon military exports for much of its gross domestic product. Even accounting for the Republic discreetly ‘cheating’ the system where it could get away with it, and the various black-market projects the company was engaging in, there had been budget cuts. Two of the younger engineers on Gann’s staff had already been laid off despite his protests. He knew that he was lucky to have kept his own position after everything that had happened, but the stress had been getting to him as of late. Talera, supportive as always, had always complained that he worked too much, but these days it was even worse. Even when he was at home, he could be listless and distracted. He was even starting to fear that his wife would leave him.

It could always be worse. Gann reminded himself again.

When it came down to it, it was a miracle that he was even alive and living here with his family in relative comfort. After all, if the Balmorrans ever discovered who Gann really was, they would lynch him and his family on the spot.

Once upon a time, years ago and in another life, Gann had been a talented cyberneticist on Dromund Kaas, the capital of the Sith Empire. Between designing enhancements for the Sith and producing prosthetics for injured Imperial soldiers, his future had appeared secured. Then he’d been abducted and enslaved by one Sith Lord only to catch the eye of a second Sith who had then sent a third Sith to extort him for one of his creations all so they could assassinate a fourth Sith. After that, he’d become a loose end. A liability in Sith internal politics. He’d grabbed his wife and daughter at the first chance and had fled the Empire.

All four Sith he’d encountered had proven to have been powerful individuals and highly placed within their Order. Gann even heard that the Twi’lek apprentice who’d taken his device had eventually ascended to a seat on the Dark Council. That apprentice – the future Darth Nox – may have spared him from a grisly execution on the spot, but he held no illusions beyond that. She’d outright told him he’d be dead if he ever re-emerged. Years later, word had trickled to him that Nox herself had ultimately been killed during some battle or another on Yavin, but Gann knew he could never be too safe. Regardless of his official legal status with the Sith Empire, his name would always be on someone’s list. They said that a Sith could hold a grudge forever, and having witnessed Lord Grathan’s cruelty first-hand, he believed it.

(To this day, what Grathan had forced Gann to do to those captured Imperial soldiers during the siege of Grathan’s estate gave him nightmares more than anything else he had ever experienced.)

Now, he’d been living on Balmorra for eight years. The identities of Gann and his family – secured years ago with the assistance of a skilled Anomid forger he’d contacted on Nar Shaddaa – had proven as solid as money could buy. The whole family had long since disguised their Kaasi accents, even while speaking alone at their apartment. Talera and Darial had ultimately thrived, acclimating to Balmorra even more fully than Gann himself. They had made only a few friends, but nevertheless, it had still been enough.

They had made Balmorra a home.

It hadn’t been a life without challenges, of course. As an off-worlder living on a planet that had been occupied for so long, a certain level of suspicion from Gann’s peers was natural, but by and large, his obvious talents – combined with his passion and dedication to his work – had convinced his colleagues of his veracity. Gann’s only recent concern was having drawn the attention of Balmorran Arms’ new director of security, Zenith. A local Twi’lek and a former leader in the planetary resistance, Zenith went about his work with great zeal, and had already managed to rub most of the firm’s employees the wrong way. As a transplant who had risen to the rank of section head, Gann had naturally drawn the security chief’s interest. Gann’s only consolation was that the paranoid Zenith seemed to suspect almost everyone of being an Imperial spy, so his concerns had thus far been undercut with their respective superiors, much to the engineer’s relief.

Gann knew he could never go back to the Empire, even if he had wanted to. And his dedication and commitment to Balmorra was completely sincere. If the planet were ever conquered by the Sith again, they would surely discover him. What they’d do to Gann and his family didn’t bare thinking about.

He couldn’t allow that.

Balmorra had to remain free from that fate, even if that freedom was a lie in light of Zakuul’s oppressive grip over their off-world trade.

For the moment, however, Gann’s more immediate concern was making apologies to Talera for coming home late… for the third time this week. Between Zenith’s security interviews and Gann’s quarreling with the other department heads over dwindling resources, his hours were getting worse all the time. He was dreading having to disappoint his wife again.

“I don’t know why she puts up with me.” He murmured, finally reaching the gate to his apartment complex.  

Just as Gann was about to insert his security key card to enter the facility, he suddenly felt an object pressed to the back of his neck.

“Don’t move.” A brusque voice demanded.

Gann’s blood froze as he recognized the sensation of a blaster barrel pointed against his skin. Before he could react, a hand reached out and snatched away the key card from Gann’s outstretched fingers. Whether out of fear or simple self-preservation, he forced himself not to move.

“Please don’t hurt me.” He stammered nervously. “I’m low on credits, but it’s all in my jacket. Just take whatever you want.”

“I’m not here to rob you, Mister Dorotsech.” The voice answered. It was masculine, firm, and Gann’s sharp ears could pick up just a faint trace of an Imperial accent. “I’m here to talk to you.”

The usage of his old name – Dorotsech – a name that he hadn’t heard, much less answered to in years –caused all of Gann’s anxiety to come flooding back with a vengeance, the memories of that past life coming to the fore.

A bizarre sensation of acceptance came over Gann in that moment, and his breath caught in his throat.

“If you’re going to kill me, do it quick.” Gann said quietly in resignation. “Just… please spare my family. They didn’t ask for this. They don’t have anything to do with this.”

The man behind him – Gann hoped it was just one – seemed to cluck his tongue reproachingly.

“Quite the fatalist, aren’t you?” a free hand reached out and ran up and down the shoulders of his corporate jacket – adorned with the Balmorran Arms logo - and trousers, briskly frisking him. Gann and his family lived in a safe neighborhood. He carried no weapons; just a portable holopad and a wrist communicator. These were quickly (and professionally) confiscated. The strong hand grasped his shoulder firmly. “Take a breath. We’re stepping around the corner. For privacy, you understand.”

Gann felt the barrel of the weapon behind him withdraw from the back of his neck, only to then press against his back. His shoulders sagged in defeat, his body acquiescing. He knew the security monitors at his complex should have picked up the intruder by now. In theory, a pair of guards should now be rushing to his aid, with law enforcement alerted and on the way. No doubt his captor had anticipated and accounted for all of that. As they turned the corner of the building, a realization dawned on him; this was all to avoid eyewitnesses. The pit of his stomach continued to build. He just knew he was doomed. His captor was clearly not Sith themselves – Sith had little use for blasters, and most didn’t care about privacy for their executions – but there could be no doubt that this individual was in service to a Sith. Most likely this was an assassin from Sith Intelligence, the successor to the feared Imperial Intelligence service Gann had avoided since escaping Grathan.

Gann and the unknown man came to a sudden stop.

“Good. Now turn around. Nice and slow.” His captor said.

Gann took some solace in the fact that he would at least see the face of his killer before he died. Taking a deep breath, he turned.

The man he faced was human; no surprise there. His face was fairly nondescript by Gann’s estimation, aside from some heavy scarring on the left side of his right cheek, clearly the result of an old injury from an explosion. Gann was immediately drawn to the cybernetic cranial implant around his eye just above the scars; by his estimation, it appeared to be a modified version of the standard Imperial device used by operatives of the Sith Empire. The man wore tactical body armor over an athletic build, and with a glance Gann could recognize numerous enhancements and modifications had been made. He carried a broken-down sniper rifle on his back, a model that could snap to the ready in a single motion.

Gann had feared this moment. He’d dreaded it for years. He’d even had nightmares about it. He’d spent the first forty-five years of his life terrified that he would somehow displease the wrong Sith and be killed on a whim, and had spent the last nine years since then terrified that either the Sith would find him for what he had done on Dromund Kaas or that someone on Balmorra would discover his identity and his entire life would come apart.

And with the realization that this moment had finally come, he had a crystal moment of clarity.

Talera and Darial… were his life. Not his position at Balmorran Arms. Not all his troubles and worries. Not even his cybernetic creations, which had been his passion for as long as he could remember.

His wife and daughter were all that mattered.

Exhaling the breath he had taken, Gann finally nodded. He’d dreaded this moment for years, but now that it had finally come, he didn’t care. His life was over. He knew that. The Sith Empire had found him. Zenith’s suspicions, the budget cuts at work, the constant threat of both the Sith and the Eternal Empires, Talera’s protestations that he worked too much… all his troubles seemed to melt away. None of them mattered, anymore.

It was strangely liberating. For the first time in years, he felt free of his troubles. All he felt was blissful acceptance.

“I’m ready.” Gann said to the assassin.

The operative, showing no change of expression, merely holstered his weapon.

“Good. Because someone wants a word with you.”

He reached down to his belt and pulled out a portable holo-transmitter, holding it out towards Gann. The device activated and a moment later an image appeared hovering above it.

It was a human female of medium height, clad in a dark tunic and body armor with durasteel shoulder pauldrons. She held herself with an impressive posture despite standing at ease with her hands tucked behind her confidently. Her blonde hair was cut short, and even without the lightsaber clipped to her belt, Gann would have marked her as an experienced combatant. Most important, when he studied her eyes, he could tell even through the blue tint of the projection that the irises were yellow; a tell-tale trait of the Sith.

Whatever faint hope of survival Gann had built back up at the operative’s apparent hesitation quickly faded.

“Mister Dorotsech, I presume.” The Sith gave him a cool and professional smile. Her accent was Imperial; Kaasi even. “I apologize if we’ve alarmed you. My associate and I have gone to a great deal of trouble to arrange for this meeting.” Her tone, like her expression, was crisp and professional. Authoritative, but not overbearing.

A velvet glove concealing an iron fist. Gann thought to himself, cynically. Having expected an immediate order of execution, he eyed the woman with suspicion.

“You needn’t be coy, my lord.” There was a bitter acceptance in his voice as he stood up straight. He could at least die on his feet. “I know full well how the Empire deals with ‘loose ends’ like myself.”

The Sith merely raised a withering eyebrow at that.

“Please, Mister Dorotsech. Neither I, nor my associate here, serve the Sith Empire any longer. Yes, we do know who you are and what you’ve done. And to be completely candid with you, no one has cared about the details of Darth Skotia’s death in years.”

Gann blinked. He’d heard that some Sith liked to ‘play with their food’, so to speak, and after his experiences with Grathan, he found those tales most credible. But for just a moment, he entertained the notion that he might somehow survive all of this.

“Please… call me Gann Vondern.” The cyberneticist spoke in a low voice, surprising himself at his own boldness. Sith could be vicious in the face of anything resembling impertinence. But he’d been afraid for so long, it felt good to say something asserting himself. “My name is not just a mask I wear. It is the existence – the life – I’ve made for myself.”

“Mister Vondern, then.” The Sith acquiesced, giving him a slight nod. “We require your assistance with a matter you seem to be uniquely well-suited for.”

Gann felt his body relax just a bit but wondered if his talents were again about to be ‘co-opted’ by yet another Sith.

“Several years ago, you produced a device called a ‘cyber neutralizer’ for Lord Zu'fanda, the future Darth Nox.” The Sith Lord began speaking matter-of-factly. “A device capable of crippling individuals who were equipped with cybernetic enhancements. We are interested in whether you could produce a similar device now, assuming that it fits our needs. Lord Grathan’s records mention you designing the neutralizer, and we know about what happened to Skotia, but there were no schematics included in the files we recovered.”

Gann swallowed in contemplation, licking his lips. Almost against his will, his mind, honed by his years of experience as an engineer, was already trying to tackle the problem. He’d always been like that – if only all the problems in his life were as easy to solve as an engineering challenge.

“Well. That would depend on how much of the target were still human.”

The Sith frowned in consideration.

“To the best of our knowledge, the target’s sole cybernetic enhancement is a prosthetic left arm, apparently severed above the elbow but beneath the shoulder.” she answered precisely. “He may have other hidden enhancements, but nothing visible to the eye.”  

Gann shook his head.

“Nowhere near enough. The neutralizer I designed works on most droids… and cyborgs who are at least fifty percent machine.”

Gann stopped himself as he finished, remembering how most Sith tended to react to bad news.

The woman in the projection merely furrowed her brow as her frown deepened.

“Why hasn’t Balmorran Arms been producing your device? You surely could have recreated it with their resources.”

“It’s cost-prohibitive.” Gann sighed. The realities of developing cost-effective technologies had always frustrated him. “It’s a one-time use device. After that, the circuits burn out. Producing even a single unit costs a fortune in time, money and power. The Republic wouldn’t have been interested in such a weapon, and it wouldn’t have been worth the company’s trouble marketing it to its… less savory clientele.”

The Sith turned to the operative, who had been standing silently through all of this.

“Your thoughts… agent?”

The cyberneticist noted the hesitation in the Sith’s question. He realized she didn’t want to give the engineer anything that would allow him to identify either of them. That was good. It made it much more likely that they hadn’t made the decision to eliminate him yet.

“Unfortunately, this seems like a dead end, Minister.” The operative answered, brusquely. “Even if we could re-produce the device, it wouldn’t work on our primary target.”

Gann’s ears perked up at the title of ‘Minister’ directed towards the Sith. Had they been deceiving him about their connection to the Sith Empire?

The woman’s eyes flickered in irritation, but she quickly pressed on.

“I agree. Pity. It could have given the Commander an edge against Arcann.”

Realization dawn on Gann at the mention of the name ‘Arcann’.  

“Wait. Arcann? As in Emperor Arcann??? You’re opposing the Zakuulans?” He was incredulous. The Eternal Empire had completely run over every enemy that had dared resist them in the past five years, commanded by their despotic Emperor. “Are you mad?”

The Sith turned towards the engineer again, once again with a raised eyebrow.

“I trust that isn’t something you plan on repeating to anyone, Mister Vondern?”

Gann could sense the implied threat in her voice. He wondered if she could Force-choke him by holo?

“Its not that.” He started to tremble. “I just…”  

“What, then?”

Gann’s mind was in turmoil. He couldn’t offer these people his neutralizer design. But they were actually willing to stand up to the Eternal Empire. If they’d found him – while the Sith Empire hadn’t – maybe they were capable enough to do what they dared?  

“Take me with you.” Gann said the words before he knew what he was doing.

The Sith in the projection blinked in surprise. The operative merely chuckled.

“Why would you want to join us?” the woman said after a moment. “You don’t even know who we are.”

Gann struggled to regain his footing, taking in a deep breath and trying to find his compass. He’d hardly taken a brave move in his life, aside from proposing to Talera. But today he felt different.

“I know enough.” He said. “I know you’re challenging the Eternal Empire. I know no one else has had the courage to even think about doing that in years. I know the Zakuulans are slowly choking the spirit out of Balmorra, and they could simply wipe us out at any moment. I know they’ve done exactly that elsewhere.”

“I want to be a part of stopping that.”

The Sith took it in slowly, then turned to her operative, who looked back at her but said nothing. She finally turned to Gann again.

“What about your life here? Our reports said you had a family.”

Was this how my life works, now? Gann wondered. I have to leave the things I care most about in order to protect them?

He found his answer.

“My wife has her own career.” he swallowed. “My daughter is about to start attending the University in Sobrik. They don’t need me anymore. Not as I am. Who knows, maybe I’ve been holding them back all this time. I just… I know I can’t continue with what I’ve been doing. I don’t want to live in fear anymore.”

The Sith seemed impressed by his declaration.

“Where you’ll be operating, it might be some time before you can contact your family.” The Sith warned him. “We can probably arrange something eventually, but I can’t promise that.”

Gann swallowed sadly.

“I understand.”

The Sith eyed him severely. He was reminded of a particularly harsh schoolteacher he had had as a child.

“Your assessment, agent?”

“Well.” The unnamed man regarded Gann for a moment. “He’s held up reasonably well for an engineer, and there’s nothing I imagine he’ll face with us that he hasn’t already faced in the last five minutes. And it would mean I hadn’t made this trip for nothing. Plus, our science division is always recruiting, and I’m sure Oggurobb will find something productive for him to do.”

That was another name Gann recognized.

“Doctor Juvard Illip Oggurobb is working with you?” he was even more impressed. The Hutt was renowned throughout the galaxy for his accomplishments in droid engineering and was the only five-time recipient of the Bao-Dur Science Prize. Gann had been an admirer of his work for decades.

“He does.” The Sith answered, scrutinizing Gann again.

After a long moment, she finally nodded.

“Very well. Mister Vondern, my name is Lana Beniko. On behalf of the Alliance, I welcome you into our ranks. Our agent here will see to your transportation and orientation.”

She concluded with a somewhat reassuring smile.

“We hope to see you here soon.”

With that, the transmission ended, the holoprojection vanishing.  

The operative turned to Gann with a grim smile.

“Our window is short, I’m afraid. We’ll remain undetected by the Star Fortress for only so long. Ah.” The operative – Beniko had merely called him agent – paused. “Here are your things, by the way.” He handed Gann back his keycard, datapad and communicator.

“Uhm. Thank you.” Gann stammered, fumbling a bit as he took back his possessions. “But what do I call you?”

“Oh, you can just call me Cipher Nine.”

Gann felt his face to turn pale in shock. The Cipher agents had been the top operatives of the old Imperial Intelligence. In an Empire of powerful Force-users and super soldiers, they had been ghosts; assassinating dissidents and disappearing into the shadows. He had always assumed that if the Empire ever did find him, it would be a Cipher agent.  

The operative’s grin just widened.

“Like you, my name represents the life I’ve built for myself.” He spoke in a matter-of-fact tone. “Docking Bay 94 at the Sobrik Spaceport. We lift off in one hour. Don’t be late.”

Without another word to Gann, the man turned and started walking off. He observed him as the cipher agent raised his own wrist communicator to his lips.

“Kaliyo, we’re green. Be back at the Phantom in forty-five minutes. We’ll have one passenger joining us…”

Even as he spoke, a personal stealth field activated. The man flickered and suddenly disappeared from sight, seemingly without a trace of having ever been there in the first place.

Gann checked his chrono. The entire encounter had lasted less than five minutes. Five minutes that had changed his life forever. He exhaled slowly, overwhelmed by what had just taken place.

There was so much to do. He could transmit his resignation to his bosses at B.A. for all he cared about his career at this point, but far more important, he would have to tell Talera. He doubted she’d be thrilled with this turn of events. His daughter… she would miss him, but he was confident she would be fine. His little girl had grown up. He’d be able to leave them with more than enough money and Talera’s position with the government should ensure they would not face significant scrutiny.

She would be angry. She might even leave him. He wouldn’t blame her if she did.

But maybe he’d be able to look at himself in the mirror again. Maybe his wife would understand.

As he used his key card to enter his complex, he felt a renewed sense of hope. Like a new dawn.

He’d been right. It could be worse.

Only now, it could eventually get better.

Author’s Notes: For the record, Talera winds up being supportive of Gann’s decision in the end. She will worry, and she absolutely isn’t thrilled that it is all last minute. But in the end, she understands.  

I have a fondness for taking very minor characters from the game and writing stories from their perspective. Dorotsech appears in the Sith Inquisitor story on Dromund Kaas, with the ‘default’ choice being to kill him. Zu'fanda was a dark-sider, but she wound up sparing him, since she thought she might need him later. That doesn’t come to pass, but I brought him back here.

Cipher Nine, the former Gahraath Vaiken, is the Imperial Agent in my Halcyon Legacy. He called Lana ‘Minister’ in front of Gann just to annoy her. The two respect each other but aren’t exactly friendly. See if you can figure out why he gave different times to Gann that he did to Kaliyo. Gahraath is technically a sniper, not an operative, but… meh. I can give him the abilities that i like in my head-canon.

I know Balmorra isn’t one of the Star Fortress planets in the actual game, but since its implied that most major planets have one, I feel comfortable saying that one is there. (It does get taken out, however, much to Gann’s relief.)

Zenith gets a cameo mention here because he fits the role of the over-zealous security officer too well. (A paranoid clock is right twice a day.) I also threw in a reference to Dretcher, that ‘old friend’ of Gault’s you meet during Knights of the Fallen Empire.

#swtor #swtor fanfiction #swtor fanfic #Tales from the Eternal Alliance #oc: corellan halcyon #oc: gahraath #oc: Gahraath Vaiken #lana beniko #Dorotsech #zenith #eternal alliance #the eternal alliance #the halcyon legacy #halcyon legacy #balmorra #balmorran arms factory #darth nox #sith inquisitor #oc: zu'fanda #imperial agent #cipher nine #Sundari Flatlands #star fortress #dretcher #doctor oggurobb

[mka1098]

My Love is God

My Love Is God

Veronica x JD modern AU 

Rating: M

Warnings: swearing; death; murder; depictions of violence and blood; mentions of sociopathy and insanity; sex

I have a couple of things to explain about this AU because it’s a bit confusing. This is also gonna be a mess since I’m trying something new here. 

Backstory: JD and Veronica met in the lunchroom of their senior year when JD moved to her school. They met in a 7-11 and he was drawn to her and she didn’t push him away. They made close friends and he was so utterly in love with her. JD admitted his family problems to her and a lot of the deranged thoughts in his head. Veronica loved him a lot so she calmed him down and took him to therapy. It took time but he began to control his bloodlust and anger issues. Being 18, he moved out of his father’s house and found an apartment nearby Veronica’s home. JD became a normal teenager, more troubled than most but never wanted to do anything like bomb the school again. Veronica was his lifeline. She had saved him and helped him and he knew that. He fought his dangerous tendencies and continued going to therapy. One day, Veronica got into a huge fight with her best friend, Heather Chandler, who wanted her to get with one of the college boys at her party. It ends with them no longer being friends and Veronica humiliates Heather but reveals that Heather was too scared to even get close to kissing the college guy she was with. Heather is angered by this and hatches a plan to kill Veronica; she succeeds. And JD has just found out. 

Go easy on me please; it’s my first time writing present tense and I’m very lost 

My Love Is God

Heather Chandler hums to the mirror in her locker. Powdering her face during the passing period between the 4th and 5th period had become a regular affair. Her face got so oily; what a treacherous look would it be if people saw her face shiny? Biting her lip, Heather adjusts the red scrunchie in her hair. Ram has previously mussed it up in class and if not for her reputation; she’d rip hima  new asshole.

“Heather.” A voice calls behind her. Her eyes roll back in annoyance; who the hell thought that they were good enough to address her? 

“What in god’s name, do you want.” She says with bite in her voice. Her view catches on a darkened teen-boy. His long trenchcoat looked solely out of fashion and terrible for the nice summer weather. Her nose crinkled at his look. Face nearly covered up to the eyes, the boy stares directly at her. His dark brown eyes narrow into slits. 

“I’d like to take this outside.” He says with a dead tone. Heather’s eyes roll. What was the point of entertaining some idiot’s needs?

“Look, I don’t give a fuck about what you like. I have people to attend to, so unless you have an upper. Get. Out. Of. My. Way.” She snaps. His expression remains unfazed, much to her annoyance. He was supposed to cower and fade into the background. What a \\\ douche. She fluffs her ponytail and steps out away from her locker. 

“If that’s what it will take.” He calls after her. Heather spins around, glaring at him harshly. If this kid was kidding, she was going to end him. Heather puts out her hand, accepting the offer. “One the condition… we take this outside.” He continues. His stare was burning into hers. Heather inwardly scoffs at that, she had a harsh look and didn’t appreciate anyone matching it. 

Heather breaths in but finally caves. She was fresh out and in need. “Fine.” 

The teen doesn’t say much to her on the way; he was taking long, stiff strides. His arms and hands were clenched into fists. Heather had become a master of reading body language. This boy had a plan, but clearly, was unsure about it. Heather spoke not a word. Her eyes scan over him like a hawk. His appearance did merit a reliable product, that was for certain. That terrible coat would be great for cover. 

“Where are you taking me?” Heather demands. It had registered that she had not a clue his name minutes prior however, she knew better than to act like a fool and ask like a child. “I have places to be after this. Do not, make me late. You will regret up.” Heather says haughtly, giving no empty promises. 

He stops suddenly, their surroundings were empty streets and a 7-11 in only the visible future. Heather growls harshly under her breath. “You want to know where we are? We’re here. Where it all began.” He spoke in a low tone. It was slightly raspy and very attractive if she were to be honest. Heather’s perfected blonde brow rose. 

“I know your plan. I catch on quick. I get it, I’m hot, I’m a heather. I’m the Heather. If you want a quickie I take them in a closet. You’re just extra.” Heather says in a cackling tone. If only the other Heather were here; they’d love the show of embarrassing a loner. 

The boy’s expression began to morphe, not into embarrassment, not into fluster, not even impression. Instead, his hand reaches up to the hood and it tugs the fabric down behind him. “I’m not interested in fucking you.” He says in a deadpan tone. Heather laughs in a wicked way. This boy was stupid, sure but amusing as well. 

“That’s cute.” She says, putting on a seductive smirk. The boy scowled at her. 

It was now she could see his features; somewhere in her mind, there was a face match. Perhaps his father was a movie star? His hair was messy and long; skater boy hot indeed. His jaw, sharp as ever. Wide nose, but not bad. His face sure matched his voice. 

Heathers tsks approvingly. “I get what I want though. Don’t hold back.” She winks at him. He frowns harder. 

“I’d like to talk to you about someone.”

Heather licks her lip. “Enlighten me.” Her voice having now a delicate flare to it. 

The boy glares at her. “Veronica Sawyer.” He says in a harsh tone. 

Oh. Her. She was a nuisance, to say the least. Heather sighs heavily and rolls her eyes. “Do we have to? Her funeral was last month. It’s kinda overrated.” She says mindlessly. His face tightens. 

“You were the last to see her alive.” He accuses her. Heather’s eyes roll again; God, why he about Veronica? Heather was a hot bitch and in front of him. Besides, Sawyer was being a pain in the ass, not the mention a huge snitch. 

“Not really The hospital medics took her in. They didn’t let me in.” Her lips purse into a pout. “It was unfortunate. I tried to warn her from stepping into the road. The cars were going oh so fast.”

The boy snarled at her. “Don’t act so innocent. You hated her. You were friends and then you hated her.” 

Heather gasps dramatically. Sure it was suspicious but she had been playing it off so well! “How dare you! Do you even know how traumatic that was? Watching even ex, your best friend die! The therapy has finally stopped my self-blame.” Heather defends. 

“Don’t even try and think that act works on me.” He growls. 

Heather let out a high-pitched sobbed. “Why do you-”

“WILL YOU SHUT THE FUCK UP!” He shouts at her. Heather steps back in shook. That was unexpected. 

“I know you killed her.” a finger shoves into her vision. “I know because she was so scared of going. But she went anyway because goddamnit she just had to see the best in people and hope for the best. She went because she wanted things to be just a bit more okay with you guys. But she was so scared, she knew you were going to do something; I knew you were gonna do something. You pushed her in front of that car. And I know you cackled like a fucking witch while doing it.” The boy’s mouth sprouts word afterword; his fury was increasing more and more in the most obvious way. 

Heather racks her brain. Who was he? Why did he talk to Veronica? That girl only had two other friends after Heather let go of… oh… ohhhhhh.

“So what.” She says with danger. “You as her pretty little boyfriend is now going to cry about it? Get over it, she was no big thing. I’m sure the sex wasn’t that good to miss it. We’re all long past; catch up.” Heather steps forward, her intimidation factor went higher and higher up. “Calm your tits JD. No one else is worried. Learn to read a room.” 

JD’s face explodes into angry. “You dumb bitch. You’ve never cared for a single person in your life, have you? Well, let me tell you this. We were in love. So in love. She was the best person on this shithole we call earth. Veronica saw only the best and fixed anything she could. She never turned away from someone who needed help. She fixed me. She stayed with me. And you took the brightest light away.”

Heather let out a huge laugh. “Wow, dramatic. Definitely her little plaything. Love is overrated. She’s not anything anymore. Get past yourself and find a new slut.” She says with amusement. “Be glad she died painlessly. That was the best gift I could give her. Well, painless after she was dragged across the street, but still.” Her laugh fluffed and sugared; JD didn’t seem to apparatus it. How rude. 

“She hated you. She pitied you. She almost wanted to take you to therapy like me. But in the end, she decided you weren’t even worth the effort.” JD says darkly. Heather’s expression quickly shut down. Had she heard him correctly. 

“Very funny joke.” She attempts her easy-going tone of voice but the slip-up didn’t pass him by. His mouth twists into a grin. 

“Denial. Now you know how it feels. Rejection, you’re getting a lot of frists today. Congratulations princess of the fucking school.” JD’s voice echoes all around her. Coated in a thick layer of sarcasm and condensation, he spits it out at her. “Veronica felt sorry for you. That’s why she joined your little club. Sorry for the little princess who no one really cared about. She thought, maybe I can help her. But you want to know what happened? She met you and realized… what mattered? Certainly not you. Why else did you think she took Duke to the doctors? Duke was meant enough to the world to be fixed and now she’s all brand new. Mcnamara got a personality, kinda. But Veronica thought anyone worth it, was. Too bad that wasn’t you.” His wicked smirk sears her eyes. 

“You’re bullshit,” Heather growls. He laughs;  the sound is demented. 

“Am I? Or am I right?” He continues his speech. “My Veronica wanted to help people. She did. She helped me, she saved me. She saved Martha, Duke, everyone. Just not you. You’re not going anywhere. Everyone knows… don’t you?” 

His words pound into her head. Like in a small tunnel, they echo and get louder. “Shut up.” She snaps weakly. Her ears were about to bleed. Her head began to scream. How long had it been going on? The looks; the pitying looks? The laughs, the condescending laughs that she should have been the one making. She was the queen of the school; she was going to the top of the world. Did everyone think she’d melt to the bottom? “Shut up!” JD’s voice didn’t stop. Their pace; increased. The volume; skyward. 

“Veronica would have been here to tell me to stop; to tell me to go home. She would have said, breath a little and remember me. Her hand would have touched my shoulder and slowly she would walk me home and talk about anything she could do to help. She would have cleared my mind, given me my meds, and sang a song terribly to ground me. Veronica would have been here. But she’s not.  Actually, even if was alive, she’d wouldn’t do anything of that. She’d probably dance around with me with a smile on her face saying, babe you’re doing great..” JD’s voice became mixed with wicked, deranged laughter. Like her own evil cackles, but much, much worse. The insane glint in his eyes was terrifying.

She sucks in a breath; one final one to perceive her dignity, her pride. “Veronica this. Veronica that. For the love of god, she’s DEAD! She doesn’t matter anymore, you fucking jac- oof” Heather fell forward. Had he punched her in the stomach? What a weirdo! Heather went to take in a breath, only to find she couldn’t. What the fuck? The pain was there in her body; it was growing exponentially fast. Her eyes trailed down and oh- oh- oh holy mother of fucking shit!

“DID YOU FUC-” She not longer had the ability to speak; not when there was a knife sticking out of her body. JD’s eyes stare down the crumbling girl. 

His face, wide with a grin. 

His hands, perfectly clean. 

His insanity bared itself to the world. 

“You fucking psychopath.” She growls her last words. The red liquid was leaving her body fast. 

JD remains unfazed. His deaden look, his empathy free eyes. “Sociopathic tendencies, actually. Diagnosed. They’re actually not that dangerous. This? This the anger-management issue at work.” He smiles. “This is what it feels like on the other side of the killing.” He crouches down to meet her face to face. Heather musters the strength to growl. 

“What do you... want me to say? Dear diary? My teenage angst bullsh- bullshit now has a body count?” She snarls back. JD laughs. 

“No.” His voice, dark as ever.  “You’ve never loved a person in your life clearly. And no one has ever loved you, not a surprise there.” He stands up straight, looming like a darkened villain. “Let me tell you something. I love Veronica Sawyer. She was going to be Veronica Dean. I love her. More than anything in this fucking shit-world. I’ll worship her till the end of time. We had the strongest love in the universe. She was a goddess; you shouldn’t have killed her.” 

Heather’s eyes roll for the last time. “Dear god, this whole love shit you’re trying to pull on me is really annoying the last minutes of my death” She voices drily. JD crouches down to her again, lifting her chin with a rough tug. 

“Our love was so strong; it could have killed dinosaurs. I’ll settle for killing you though.” He threw down her face aggressively. The blood letched out to the ground. She scowls for the last time. 

“We could have made a pretty good murder couple.” She comments.  JD laughs and steps away, removing black gloves to shove in his pocket. “Dear God, just kill me now.” Heather expresses haughtily. 

JD laughs darkly. “Right you are my dear. Veronica and I… our love was god; it could have killed worlds. But she’s gone now. I’m left. So yes. My love is god.” Heather’s eyes began to feel heavy; was he slipping away farthing into the distance or was she dying faster? This was it wasn’t it? She grimaces. 

“My love is god. It has killed you. Isn’t that just beautiful?” 

Okay, I know it seems like I made Veronica seem like a Mary Sue and JD as this romantic guy. Let me explain things now that I have finished the story. 

Veronica hated Heather C and after helping JD, she started helping other people but she chose not to help Heather C who clearly has problems

Veronica was actually kinda okay with the murder. There was nowhere to put this and I briefly mentioned it, sorta at least, but if she didn’t like the person she was fine with JD killing them. She wanted to curb JD’s bloodlust, but she had accepted it as part of him and never was fully like THIS IS WRONG. As JD said, she would have laughed with him as he killed Heather C. 

Veronica was also kinda manipulative. I didn’t know where to put this but basically, Veronica started to isolate Heather without her even knowing. She’s not a Mary Sue, I swear it’s just not a long story

Heather C. had a lot of clear mental issues that Veronica literally just ignored and used to her advantage. She has such narcissistic behaviors, Veronica was able to get people to turn on her all while she thought she was the queen

People stopped caring about Heather C. Like they basically just made fun of her and were sarcastic to her. But with all of her mental issues and stuff, it twisted in her mind to make them think they were worshipping her. People shot her dirty looks or laughed at her, but she didn’t notice that. 

Heather D. got help for her bulimia because of Veronica. She thus was given kindness and was not a huge bitch 

Heather M. also became less of a bitch. She wasn’t one before, it was just she followed Heather C. around too much. Veronica helped her. 

Martha had Veronica back and it helped her feel like she had a true friend and ended up saving her from her depression

VERONICA IS STILL NOT AN ANGEL I REALIZE THAT’S HOW IT SOUNDS 

JD is possessive and Veronica has learned to live with it. It’s kinda unhealthy but not dangerous to her so that’s why she puts up with it. It’s directed towards other people

JD praises Veronica. She is the only thing in his life. She’s his mildly unhealthy but weirdly good fixation 

JD is adamant he and Veronica will end up together. There is nothing else. It will happen in his mind. His head is still a little twisted, though better than before. He’s not trying to kill for baby reasons now. He’d kill for Veronica and that’s basically it

Veronica’s parents do not like JD but deal with him for her 

Heather C. invited Veronica to a girl’s trip to bond a bit and make-up, then she pushed her into a street. Veronica didn’t want to go but she was too trusting and nice, like how she was in the movie and musical n trusting JD

JD goes on to flee the town and Heather C. Is discovered to be dead at the end of the school day

Now, I’m not totally sure what this is. It was an idea in my head and I needed it out. It’s not very good, It’s not the level of gore and blood I think my honestly messed-up mind needs to get out, but it can suffice Basically, I have my own mental problems, though I don’t know what they are currently, but they do give me a lot of problems. Writing is my healthy way of expressing them rather than screaming at my friends. That was my old way… not good. Anyways, hope you guys liked this story. 

#heathers fanfiction #heather chandler #heathers fanfic #heather chandler fanfic #heathers #jd fanfiction #jd #jason dean #jason dean x veronica sawyer #veronica x jd

[lostinthewiind]

Words Are For the Weak

Denver “Bull” Randleman - Band of Brothers

WARNING(S): ***SEXY TIME***

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“One foot in front of the other. Ignore the pain. Just keep running.”

That was what you told yourself over and over again as you sprinted through the town of Nuenen, desperately trying to escape the German soldiers that had seemingly popped out of nowhere, outnumbering Easy Company five to one easily. 

At that point, you didn’t care about the mission at all anymore, and by the looks of things, neither did anyone else. Everywhere you looked, the men in your platoon were retreating along with you, dodging bullets and tank blasts left and right. All anyone was concerned about was making it out alive.

The piece of shrapnel that had lodged itself in your right calf shot pain up your entire leg with every step you took, but you couldn’t let it slow you down. The Nazis were literally breathing down your neck and you were afraid that if you stopped for even a second you would end up just another corpse; just another casualty of war.

Leaping over a small stone wall, you kept moving, eyes peeled for an escape route. That was when you saw it. Down in the ditch on the side of the road, Bull was crawling through the grass, a rouge, flaming tank seconds away from running him over. Every time the large man tried to stand up, a sniper from somewhere would take a shot at him. He was trapped between a rock and a hard place.

“Damnit.” you cursed as you swung your rifle over your shoulder and made a B-line for the man. 

Hopping to the other side of the narrow ditch, you knelt down, using the rolling tank for cover, and held your hand out. “Bull!” you called down to him, just then noticing the blood spilling from his shoulder where something had obviously hit him. “Come on!” you yelled over the general noise of war. 

Bull reached out, but just before he could grab your hand, a bullet pierced your thigh and you collapsed down onto one knee. “Fuck!” you screamed in pain before you outstretched your hand once more, determined to not let your sudden burst of bravery be for nothing. 

When Bull finally grabbed your hand, it took every bit of strength you had left to help heave him out of the ditch. Just as the two of you fell back into the grass, the tank collided with a wooden post and knocked the entire thing over. The flames quickly spread from the tank to the post, the heat singeing your hair a little before you backed up even further.

A soft exhale of relief left you, but the two of you were far from being out of the woods. By then, there wasn’t a single remaining American in sight. The town had been completely overrun by the Germans, leaving you and Bull no other choice but to hide.

Locating a rather large drainage pipe that ran underneath one of the roads, Bull directing you inside first before following suit. While the Germans milled about above, the two of you sat there in silence, waiting for the coast to be clear. Your right leg was in immense pain from both the shrapnel in your calf and the bullet wound in your leg. The only silver lining you could find was that the bullet hadn’t hit your main artery, because if it had, you would have already bled out and died.

After hours of sitting side by side, tending to each other’s wounds, Bull finally turned to you and spoke. “Thanks,” he whispered. 

“Thank me once we actually get out of here,” you grunted as you tightened the tourniquet around your upper thigh. “God, do they ever sleep?” you referred to the fact that you could still hear footsteps above you on the gravel road.

“Things should quiet down soon enough,” Bull assured you.

You just huffed. “I sure hope so.”

Sure enough, about thirty minutes later, all signs of patrols still roaming about disappeared; all that could be heard was the wind and the distant sounds of the Germans partying away in one of the buildings.

“Okay, this is it.” Bull started scooting back toward the entrance. “If we’re makin’ a run for it, it’s now or never. You ready?”

“I don’t have much of a choice, do I?” you followed the man, and once he signalled that the coast was clear, the two of you took off into the night. However, after only about two or three steps, your injured leg gave out. You pushed yourself back up again, but another step later you were back on the ground.

Bull noticed how much you were struggling and quickly doubled back you help you. With the sound of a door opening somewhere, Bull didn’t take any chances and quickly scooped you into his arms, a look of pain spreading to his face at the strain holding you was putting on his shoulder. 

Thinking quick, the large man from Arkansas carried you into a nearby barn and set you down among the hay in one of the empty stalls. “Looks like we’re hiding out here until morning,” he said. “You’re not gettin’ very far on that leg and there’s no way I can carry you more than a few feet with my shoulder.”

“So, we’re fucked,” you concluded.

“You could say that, yes.”

“Shit.”

“My thoughts exactly.”

Leaning back against the wooden wall of the barn stall, you tipped your head back and drew in a long breath. Bull did the same soon after, the both of you beyond exhausted an in massive amounts of pain; neither of which either one of you was eager to display.

Glancing down at your leg, you felt your heart drop when you saw just how much fresh blood was soaking your uniform, turning the brown material a dark, deep red. Reaching down, you dug your hands into the hole the bullet had made in the fabric and tore it open wide to get a better look. “I don’t think it went all the way through.” you felt the back of your leg and didn’t notice any wounds. “Which means the bullet is still in there somewhere.”

“You want me to dig it out?” Bull offered.

“Not with those huge fingers.” you tried to lighten the mood best you could before returning to the task at hand. “Yeah, ugh, just let me see if I have anything in my med-kit.”

Pulling out the small container, you dumped out the products into the hay before picking up a small pair of forceps. Usually, only the medics carried a pair around, but when you located one while looting a body on D-day you decided to keep it, and never had you been more happy about that decision. 

“Here.” you handed the forceps over before pulling out your flashlight, turning it on, and placing it in your mouth. With the light shining down on your leg you used your free hands to hold the fabric of your pants out of the way. “Okay, I’m really going to try not to move or make any noise, but this is probably gonna hurt. Just, whatever you do, don’t stop until that bullet is out, okay?”

Bull nodded. “Okay.”

Then, without warning, Bull placed one large hand on your thigh, spreading the wound apart with his fingers, before he went in with the forceps. As soon as the cold metal of the medical instrument touched the wound you threw your head back and bit down hard on the metal flashlight, almost to the point of breaking your teeth. 

“Well, shit Darlin’, this ain’t gonna work.” Bull pulled the flashlight out of your mouth and put it in his own. “You just focus on keepin’ quiet,” he mumbled around the flashlight before going back to work.

The pain was agonizing and you were biting down on your tongue so hard to keep from screaming that you had eventually drawn blood. As he worked, Bull kept muttering calming things to you. “Almost there,” he assured you. “You’re a Paratrooper. You jump out of planes. You can do this.”

After a few more minutes, though, the agony was just too much. “No, no, forget what I said.” you tried to push Bull away. “It hurts too much. Stop, please, stop.”

“I’m almost there.” Bull continued to hold your leg still. “Just a few seconds more.”

“No, I need a break.” red and black dots began to fill your vision. “Stop! Bull, I’m telling you to stop!”

“Just a few more-”

“No!” you demanded. “I got this damn thing because of you and I’m not about to sit here while you dig around in it haphazardly and make it worse!”

Bull still didn’t budge though. “That’s the pain talkin’.”

“No, it’s me talking.” you seethed. “You don’t know what you’re doing and if you don’t stop right fucking now I swear to God I will start screaming.”

Moving his hand from your chest to your mouth, Bull muffled any possible screams as he dug a little further. You were just about to bite down on his hand as hard as you could to make him stop when he finally fished the bullet out and held it up to you triumphantly. 

“Told you I just needed a few more seconds.” he kept his hand clamped hard over your mouth. “You okay?”

Covered in sweat and feeling light-headed, you nodded lazily, your head hanging low in the process as you inhaled sharply. 

Throwing himself back into a sitting position beside you, Bull discarded the forceps and bullet into the hay and sighed. “You made that much harder than it needed to be, woman.”

“Let me dig around in your leg for the better part of ten minutes and we’ll see who makes it harder than it needs to be then.” you snapped. 

“It was not ten minutes.”

“Sure fucking felt like it.” you wiped the sweat from your brow. “But...you know...thanks.”

“Thank me once we actually get out of here.” 

“Sure.” you agreed. 

Just then, a soft pair of footsteps could be heard passing the barn. Instinctively, Bull threw his hand back over your mouth as the two of you waited for whoever it was to leave.

“I swear if you put your hand over my mouth one more time...” you muttered over his palm before actually biting down that time.

“Shit, woman.” Bull ripped his hand away. “What the hell was that for?”

“I could ask you the same thing.” you retorted. 

Bull rolled his eyes. “The way you were moanin’ and groanin’ before. You’re loud and I’m not willing to risk it.”

“I am not that loud.” you denied. “Besides, you were digging a bullet out of my leg. I think I’m allowed a little bit of leeway, okay?”

“Okay.” Bull chortled. “But yeah, you’re loud. Think the whole company can’t hear you through the walls when you’re doing ‘extra credit’ for Lieutenant Nixon?”

Your mouth fell open from shock. “That’s a low blow.” you scoffed. “I should have left you in that ditch.”

“I don’t hear you denying it.”

“What? Jealous?”

“Shit, you and I both know I’d be lyin’ if I said I wasn’t.” Bull lifted one knee to his chest and lazily draped his arm over it. “It’s been over two years. We’re all jealous.”

You were a little taken aback by the willing admission, but you were prepared to roll with the punches. “A woman has needs and Captain Nixon just happens to be willing to cough up the goods, so to speak.” you dug a bandage out of your pack and began to wrap it around your leg, ignoring the significantly less serious calf wound altogether. “I don’t see him anywhere around here now, though.”

With that, you presented the bait out in the open. Whether Bull was willing to take it or not, well, that was up to him. 

Luckily for you, he was.

Peering up at you ever so slightly, only a fraction of his face visible in the scarce lighting, Bull smirked at you. You instantly caught a glimpse of the suggestion in his eyes and got excited. Oh, this was going to be fun. 

As Bull moved over to you, you laid back in the hay and welcomed the large man to hover over the top of you, the anticipation thick in the air. “Ground rules.” you started. “Watch the wounds, no dirty talk, and don’t, y’know...” you gestured to his massive size compared to you,”...don’t break me.”

“Got it.” Bull agreed. “As long as you can be quiet.” he dipped his head down and began to kiss and nip at your neck. 

In seconds you were unzipping both yours and Bull’s jackets, eager to get rid of the useless layer. As the layers slowly but surely shed away, the both of you attacking as much of each other’s skin with your mouths as possible, Bull had his core pressed into yours, his slow and consistent grinding action beginning to drive you wild.

You refused to make any noise though. So, instead, you opted to just take what you wanted instead of asking for it. Placing your hands firmly onto Bull’s chest, you pushed him back and into the hay before climbing on top of him.

Bull’s eyes glinted with arousal as he watched you take over, more than happy to let you take charge for a little while. Placing all your weight on your legs was definitely a little more than uncomfortable due to the injuries but you were too sexually charged to really care at the moment.

After sliding out of your own pants a little less than gracefully, you reached for the zipper on Bull’s pants and made quick work of it. As you reached your hand into Bull’s boxers and wrapped your hand around the large member inside, the man before you let out a sharp gasp. Looking up at Bull, you kept eye contact as you pulled his cock out and ran your tongue up the entire length.

Bull immediately pulled your hair out of the ponytail it had been in and tangled his hands in it, gripping on for dear life as you began to take him into your mouth. 

It only took a few minutes of licking and sucking to have Bull as nothing more than putty in your hands. “Oh, fuck.” he moaned lowly. “Shit.”

“Now who’s the loud one, huh?” you mocked. 

“Oh, two can play at that game.” the man half warned half promised before pulling you up to him and capturing your lips with his. The taste of himself on your lips was thrilling, and as he distracted you with his tongue in your mouth, the lined himself with your entrance and then, without warning, pushed inside of you. 

The motion was at a moderate pace, but he didn’t stop to let you adjust until he was all the way inside of you, and Bull’s size was definitely matched up with the size of the rest of him. 

Your eyes screwed shut and your body froze all at once, every inch of your body instantly overstimulated by how he felt inside of you. You continued to fight the urge to make a single noise, but this time it was much harder.

“Don’t go soft of me now.” Bull coaxed you on. “You’re a Paratrooper. You jump out of airplanes. You can do this.”

“I’m not complaining.” you melted into his touch as he slid his hands up and down your sides. 

“Good.” he slowly began to move inside of you again, and inch by inch, you got used to him. 

Once you were more comfortable, you pushed yourself up, your hands on Bull’s chest to stabilize yourself, and began to ride him. Bull’s hands were gripping your hips tightly, helping you bounce up and down on him. 

The pleasure was unlike anything you had ever felt before and right then you decided that Lewis Nixon had been demoted and Bull Randleman had been promoted. No longer would you settle for sub-par dick when euphoria personified was sleeping right down the hall. 

As the two of you began to near your climaxes, Bull once again pulled you toward himself, and with his arms wrapped tight around you and his lips on yours, he steadily pushed you both over the edge. 

Somehow you had managed to go the entire time without making a single unwarranted sound, besides a little bit of talking, but as your walls tightened and your whole body filled with an ecstasy-laced heat, you moaned. Thankfully, Bull’s mouth was there to muffle your cries. 

Seconds later, Bull pulled out of you and let out a few grunts of his own. With chests heaving, the two of you stayed exactly how you were for a little while, too drained to move just yet. 

Neither one of you said a single word. You didn’t have to. You were both already thinking the same thing: that was not going to be the last time something like that happened. And in the future, without injuries, it had the promise to be even better

#band of brothers #band of brothers fanfiction #band of brothers fic #sexy time #bull randleman #bull randleman x reader #bull x reader #lostinthewiind #hbowar #reader insert #x reader #reader imagine

[thisisnotartcritique]

Blue Art, Red Wine

How did we choose this theme? Blue art to see at midnight (you and me)

M: Well, it was late at night, I was drinking with Peter and Johann, and we were frankly tired of art. The rhetoric, the jargon, the rigid categories of art, god, it was all so boring and conformist. The boundaries of location and time, for example, Dutch Still Life 1700s, no longer apply in this day and age. We wanted to move beyond that, into the soul, and truly connect with youth. Pete’s even got us hooked on this uh what’s it called low, low music? 

P: Right, we are inspired by lo-fi music album titles, it puts you in the mood to look at art. When you get home from a tiring day at work, I like to pour a glass of red wine and listen to lo-fi. It reminds you of the hours between midnight and dark rainy mornings, when the sky is dark with a tint of blue. It clears my dusty soul...

J: I love the night! Makes me feel alive. Forgive me, I’m still a bit inebriated. My age must be catching up to me… 

M: Ah careful, what if those are your last words, Johann?

J: So be it. 

Why did you choose your piece of art or exhibition?

P: I am more of the techy one here, unlike Hans and Mike, those two are too consumed by their back pains. Though I have to admit, being on my phone in bed has not been great for my neck either...hahaha…. Anyways, I see myself in Chiao’s drawing, of course except that my room wouldn’t be full of silly posters and uncanny adornments. But the colours, the “vibe”, the little human figure, everything is so relatable, yet in perfect harmony. I aim to achieve that level contentment in life, and I want my readers to feel the same. 

J: I would take offense to Peter’s comment, but unfortunately I learned how to ride a bike just a few months ago. Aside from the unsolicited comments, I’ve been feeling absolutely wonderful after a summer trip to a very hot place (definitely not Hell), and am now undertaking an infestation at a quaint old house in Toronto, which as you can imagine, is a very large ordeal. I’m honoured. Living in a city really allows you to become acquainted with what humanity really tastes feels like, and I find that there is creativity everywhere. Just yesterday I saw a tasteful mural on a fence by the grocery store! It’s as if that mural could transport us to a different time: these thoughts are what reminded me of Kanghee Kim’s photographs.

M: Oh I’m all about adventure, sweetheart. As a man plagued by insomnia and burnout and Instagram, I… need to escape. We all need that. Especially when you have “friends” like Pete and Hans. 

The merging of art & architecture in New Circadia was simply sublime.When I went last year, each time was better than the last. The naps - bellissima! The soft pillow gear, the disco ball, the low-lights and hum, the recorded dreams all coalesced into this sanctuary. 

After all, I write about what I’m drawn to — and maybe my next piece will be about a certain interviewer. 

P: Of course the naps got you Mike. I agree with you that the New Circadia was indeed a much needed escape, simply the act of pushing through the heavy curtains resets my brain. Sometimes I don’t realize how tired I am until I lay in bed, and that was my experience with New Circadia. This brings me to think about our relationship with rest in everyday contemporary life, who decided to place such a heavy emphasis on productivity and efficiency. Do you live to work, or work to live?

J: Who doesn’t like a healthy dose of existential dread on a Monday morning? Although I haven’t personally visited the New Circadia exhibit, I have to say, I don’t find the idea of softness enticing. I prefer the hard cement of a Satanist church’s basement, or perhaps even the deteriorating wooden beams within an old Victorian house. But back to your question, Peter… I don’t know. I’ve been alive for as long as I can recall, but working for only the past two years.

M: That’s because no one would hire you, Hans. 

J: As an immortal being, I have no need for earthly pleasure and glib monetary transactions! Plus, McDonalds already had a supernatural being working for them.

M: Then pay us back for the bubble tea. 

J: If you want the money so badly, come and get it.

M: I’ll cut you in half, demon boy! 

*muffled shuffling sounds, a singular groan of pain followed by heavy breathing from opposite sides of the room*

P: Idiots. Hopefully, you’ll feel better in the morning. I’m not writing this blog by myself.

#theme:blueart #discussion post #pps #mmxx #jvk

[novaviis]

sick!dick au. part nine. 

read from the beginning here. 

Dick opens his eyes. Wally doesn’t actually realize that he’s holding his breath, shot up from his chair and leaning over the bed, until his husband’s gaze meets his. He doesn’t breathe again until he sees the recognition, the life there. A smile twitches at Dick’s lips. Wally completely deflates, lungs just shy of burning, as he breathes easily for the first time all day.

An hour later, a mass text goes out to their friends and family. It’s a picture of Dick, in his bed, with a pair of sunglasses fit over his head, at a bit of an awkward angle because of the bandages. He’s holding up a peace sign and grinning tiredly at the camera. Wally’s arm is just barely visible in the corner of the shot, holding up the phone.

The caption reads: I lived, bitch.

In their defense, they planned that out before Dick went under.

And, well, recovery is recovery. Dick spends most of that day in and out of sleep, and they just take things easy. It’s way too familiar at this point, the family being in a hospital room, surrounding Dick in a bed, hooked up to wires. They’ve spent far too long in this exact setting, they’re too comfortable with the sounds of the machines and the scent of disinfectant. Still, in a way, this feels different. So long as all goes well, this will hopefully be the end of an era. A really shit era, but nonetheless they can all feel a chapter coming to a close. As much as the family still argues, still disagrees, still grates at each other… this ordeal has brought them all closer.

The snow is soft and piling high, the afternoon fades on into evening, at by nightfall that Wayne clan’s gone home. Dick and Wally lay comfortably in the hospital bed and watch videos on Wally’s laptop until, halfway into a Bob Ross painting video, Dick falls asleep for the night. Wally spends another hour just staring between him and the window, just allowing himself to breathe well into the night, before he finally succumbs as well.

The Doctors plan to keep Dick there for about three days before he can be released. Each day he’s a little more himself, a little more awake and aware. Wally helps him walk around the room a bit each day to help keep up his strength, and actually makes notes on how the Nurses take care of the bandages and incisions, and what to do through recovery. Dick laughs a bit at one point, reassuring Wally that they’ll be given a whole lesson and pamphlet about all that, but Wally insists that he get as much info and experience as he can. It would have been dorky had it not been so adorable.

For his part, Dick tries to be a model patient, but… well, he’s impatient, that’s the problem. He can’t even sit up too fast (something he learned the hard way when he got excited to see Barbara and he got so dizzy his vision blacked out. He had to listen to Wally lecture him on and off for the rest of the afternoon). He’s just so tired of people walking on eggshells around him, treating him like he’s made out of glass. Now that the finish line is in view, that this is all almost over, Dick just wants to get there already. Can’t always get what he wants though.

On the third day, the day he’s supposed to be able to go home, Dick gets hit with a migraine so severe he’s almost desperate for them to just knock him out. The Doctors are trying to adjust his medication accordingly, whispering in the corners of the room about the possibility of tests and scans to make sure nothing’s amiss, the possibility for going under again, while Dick vomits onto his gown because he can’t get to the bucket fast enough. And he’s on the verge of sobbing through gritted teeth, can hardly breathe through it. The world is tilting upside down and his bone marrow has been replaced with molten lead and his skin is peeling back piece by piece and soon there will be nothing left of him because it was supposed to be over.

Through it all, Wally is a steady presence, understanding of Dick’s frustration. His touch is grounding, light enough not to overwhelm Dick, and just about the only comfort he has. Even Wally has to bite his tongue to keep from snapping at the Nurses who keep trying to get Dick to open his eyes when they’ve got the fluorescent lights on overhead, trying to ask him questions when he can barely breathe let alone speak. It’s rough. But it doesn’t last forever. They switch out his medication, the sudden change in chemistry has Dick sleeping for the rest of the day, and it passes. They keep him for another two nights.

Finally, five days after the surgery, Dick is released. Their friends had planned a small Post-Surgery Party at the Manor for when he got back, but Wally calls ahead and tells them that Dick is just too tired. So, when they get back, Wally helps Dick up to bed, and there’s a cheap box cake waiting for Dick in the fridge with Donna’s elegant hand writing reading “You’re Our Hero” in blue frosting, and poorly drawn smiley face courtesy of Garth.

And thankfully, after that, it’s mostly uphill. There are good days, and bad days, but that’s nothing they haven’t handled before – and they’re all seizure free. Even the migraines start to subside as Dick continues to recover. Every day, he’s more like himself. Still sleeps a lot, but that’s to be expected. He’s on the mend.

Two weeks after the surgery, Dick and Wally move back into their own apartment (which they return to find perfectly dusted and cleaned, courtesy of Alfred).

Six weeks after the surgery, Dick returns to desk work at the Precinct.

Four months after the surgery, Dick returns to active duty, so long as he’s accompanied by another officer.

Six months after the surgery, Dick gets his license back.

There’s a moment, about seven months in, that Wally walks in on Dick in the bathroom just after he’s gotten out of the shower. He’s throwing a bit of product in his hair, towel wrapped around his waist and – well, it just sort of hits him. Dick had lost a lot of weight during this ordeal, and though he’d never been stick-thin there had been a noticeable difference during the worst of it. Now, Dick’s filled out again, started on light work outs to get back in shape, and his hair’s grown back nearly to what it’d been before. You can’t even tell he’d had brain surgery months ago. The scars are covered by his hair, and he looks healthy again… and now Wally doesn’t have to think twice before jumping his husband’s bones in the bathroom.

Slowly, Dick introduces the idea of returning to Hero duty. It’s a touchy subject, one that they argue about a lot, but in the end, Wally gets onboard. The idea is terrifying, but he knows how important it is to Dick. Gradually they get Dick back in fighting condition, taking things slow when they need to. The first time Dick goes back to training on the high bars and acrobatic equipment, Wally is tense enough to break his jaw just from clenching it so hard. He’s ready to take off at the speed of light the second he sees Dick falter – and Dick does. It’s one little slip of his hand, and he nearly falls, but just as Wally speeds out to him, Dick manages to catch himself and finish the move safely. He lands in front of Wally with the biggest grin he’s worn in months. Maybe even the biggest since their Wedding Day.

Nightwing returns. The first night Dick goes out on patrol again, Wally is suited up next to him. It’s not just a precaution, Wally isn’t there to babysit Dick. It’s more than that. They’re partners. They always have been.

They’re standing on a rooftop, the city lights of Bludhaven glowing below. Wally puts his hand on Dick’s shoulder with a gentle squeeze. “I know you’re ready,” he says after a long period of comfortable silence. “But I just… I need you to know.” Wally looks Dick in the eyes, a smile on his lips. “I’m always gonna be here to catch you.”

And that means more to Dick than he could possibly put into words. In so many ways.

It’s not just in the literal sense, when he says he wouldn’t have made it through this without Wally. Not just in the fact that he chased live-saving answers from across the world, just to get him a cure. Not just in the fact that he kept him alive the day he stopped breathing on their bedroom floor. Not even in the fact that Wally has been there to physically catch Dick every time he’s fallen. Wally has been there for him through the emotional highs and lows, every time he’s been too sick to get out of bed, every time he’s been frustrated and angry with the cards he’d been dealt in life, and he has never once complained. Dick knew without a doubt that he would do the same for Wally in a heartbeat if he needed to, but to be actually faced with this kind of selfless love on a daily basis is overwhelming. His friends, his family, he never would have survived this if it hadn’t been for all of them. Dick has a safety net. Wally will always be there to catch him.

#birdflash #dickwally #sick!dick au #sick!dick

[theworkofxanderking]

The Originals: Bad Blood (Alternative Season 5)

The Originals: Bad Blood (Alternative Season 5)

Episode Four: Henrik Mikaelson

Warnings: I do not own the original content to “The Originals”, “The Vampire Diaries” or “Legacies” or any of the characters from the television shows.

15 plus, displays of Violence, Gore, Torture, M/M, F/M, F/F.

 Many Years Ago

Henrik Mikaelson was the youngest of the Mikaelson siblings and his life was cut short a 1000 years ago due to an accident involving the werewolves however just because his life had come to a brutal end doesn’t mean that was the only life he lived.

Long after the Mikaelson’s had fled Mystic Falls Nathaniel who had found himself exposed to his Malus nature returned home eager to reunite with his loved ones knowing his magic specialized in death.

Nathaniel had been on the run for decades following several bloody run ins with his twisted father Augustus living in the shadows just to stay alive but he grew lonely in these shadows and after beginning to learn more about his magic decided it was time to reunite with some old friends.

Things never quite went to plan for Nathaniel however as things rarely do for any witch coming into their power no matter how great that power was. He hoped to return Ayana the witch who had mothered him back to life and reunite her with her biological children but found it not possible because her spirit didn’t want to be found.

During this time Nathaniel hadn’t fully harnessed his power or learned the extent of what he could do but as he felt a lingering spirit, he found himself drawn to a grave within Mystic Falls knowing this was the finale resting place of the young Henrik Mikaelson.

Nathaniel could feel Henrik’s young spirit longing for life longing to return to the mortal coil and if by instinct began chanting in the unrecognizable language until Henrik’s had suddenly popped out of the grave before the young boy pulled himself out of his grave.

“Nathaniel what the bloody hell happened to me?” Henrik asked him clearly confused by his time on the other side.

Nathaniel didn’t know it at the time and therefore had no answer for Henrik, but Nathaniel had created a whole other kind of monster one far worse than Henrik’s older siblings.

Modern Day, The Ancestral Plane

“I don’t understand you mean to tell me all this time my brother has been alive, and you didn’t dare mention it to anybody.” Rebekah snapped at her mother as the two of them stood next to Bonnie in front of the well in the ancestral plane.

“Henrik’s fate turned out to be far worse than I ever could’ve possibly imagined.” Esther revealed to her daughter. “He came back but not as himself he had been touched by the very magic that returned him and that Malus darkened his soul more and more everyday like it poisons everything until there was nothing left of my son.”

“Who put him in the well to be some magical battery for these sordid witches?” Rebekah asked her fury growing stronger by the second.

“Nathaniel brought him back to life believing to be doing the right thing just like I believed I was doing the right thing for you and your siblings.” Esther explained.

“Don’t you dare even try and compare the two.” Rebekah shouted. “You maybe dead mother but I’m more than willing to try and kill your ghost as well.

“So, if Henrik is a product of Malus magic and he’s somehow a battery for this plane then this ancestral plane is built on Malus magic.” Bonnie realized. “No wonder it’s so screwed up.”

“How did he come to be a battery for these bitches mother dearest?” Rebekah asked while clearly hinting she believed Esther was to blame.

“Henrik’s magic began to grow out of hand he possessed both the magic he inherited from me and the magic he gained from his resurrection. He became more powerful than any Malus witch and that’s not something they like.” Esther admitted. “I considered freeing him many times, but I knew unleashing my other children on to the earth was bad enough.”

“You were never going to win any mother of the year awards Esther but that’s low even for the likes of you.” Bonnie snapped at Esther surprising Rebekah in the process.

“Nathaniel would never have harmed Henrik no matter the danger he imposed on others in fact as Henrik grew older and more powerful Nathaniel grew darker and relished in having a partner in crime.” Esther continued to reveal. “I don’t know how but Nathaniel managed to resist the Malus blood lust just enough to keep Henrik by his side however Augustus was a whole other creature.”

“So, Nathaniel’s father trapped Henrik in a bloody well and yet you still did nothing.” Rebekah snapped once more. “Dahlia should’ve kept you a baron woman because nature was clearly trying to tell you that you were not fit to be a mother.”

“I do love my children Rebekah whether you want to believe it or not I do.” Esther replied. “Until now the best place for Henrik was the bottom of this well but now nowhere is safe.”

“I don’t get it if this Augustus guy wanted your son out of the picture so badly why didn’t he just kill him like he’s been trying to kill his own son?” Bonnie asked. “And if Nathaniel’s such a fan of Henrik why he has waited until now to release him?”

“A Malus witch can only be killed by another Malus witch usually that magic is inherited through the blood however Henrik inherited it another way making him the only Malus witch of his blood and therefore non kill able even to a Malus witch.” Esther admitted revealing more truth than she had in 1000 years. “As for Nathaniel keeping him down here for so long you would need to ask him that.”

“I don’t get it if he can’t die why would he need to be kept safe?” Rebekah asked her.

“Because there are fates far worse than death Rebekah like the curses I laid upon my own children.” Esther said.

“I guess it’s time to awaken the youngest Mikaelson and destroy this place once and for all.” Bonnie responded as she looked down the seemingly endless well.

Rebekah vamp sped over to her mother grabbed her with force and threw her into the well hoping the fall would cause some damage to the conniving witch she had the trouble of being related to.

“In case there’s any traps set up I considered it best to throw something disposable down first.” Rebekah replied with a smile to Bonnie.

“You know I always forget just how terrible your parents really are not saying it’s an excuse for all the bloodshed your family has caused but I’m saying I get it.” Bonnie admitted to her. “I don’t condone it, but I understand it and I can’t say I wouldn’t have gone down the same path as you and your siblings if Esther and Mikael raised me.”

“Be careful now Bonnie Bennet before I start to fear you growing to like me.” Rebekah said with a flirty tone in her voice. “I must say I do very much like this new side of you New Orleans is clearly good on you.”

New Orleans

Klaus vamp sped into Marcel’s loft instantly picking up Marcel’s t-shirt from the floor and throwing it on top of Marcel who was shirtless and laying asleep on the couch before being awakened.

“What are you doing here?” Marcel asked while looking around for a sign of Josh only to realize he must’ve left.

“I’m here to propose something of a truce so my family and I can live here in cohabitation with you without some bloody feud having to be had. Believe it or not Marcellus but I don’t want to keep fighting you for centuries.” Klaus said to him. “However, I also suffer no fool and will not take orders from anyone.”

“So, you’re basically saying you want this city back and you want me to just allow it.” Marcel replied as he put on his t-shirt and stood up. “That’s never going to happen Klaus despite how much you may want it.”

“I’m saying I want a seat at the faction meetings and I’m willing to work alongside my family to rule this city whichever way we as a family see fit.” Klaus revealed to him.

“Are you trying to tell me you want to be a team?” Marcel scoffed. “The great Klaus Mikaelson suddenly becoming a team player I’m sorry, but I don’t buy it.”

“I made myself a ghost for half a decade and I thought it would be easy because in my mind it was always myself against the world but when I found myself well and truly unable to be without my family I finally understood what truly loneliness was.” Klaus admitted showing more vulnerability in that moment than he had ever shown Marcel. “I have put my siblings through misery after misery because of my own selfishness and I won’t allow myself to do the same for Hope. I want to do right by her like I should’ve done for you and if you allow it, I’d like to start doing right by you from here on out. I can’t promise I’m going to be some bloody angel suddenly, but I can promise I’ll try my hardest.”

“If I am to believe you are finally putting your family first and this isn’t some ploy of yours then I’ll speak to Hayley and Bonnie about a Mikaelson representation at the faction meetings but I’m not promising anything and I won’t go against either of them for you because they’ve earned my loyalty.”  Marcel said unsure of whether he could trust the man he once considered a father figure, but this was after all the same man who had saved Marcel from his biological father.

“Very well.” Klaus said with a smile before looking around the loft. “Why do I get the extinct impression that something happened here last night? Debauchery no doubt.”

“Yeah well you could say that,” Marcel replied eager to change the subject onto another Mikaelson. “Does this mean Rebekah is back too? I’m surprised you didn’t send her to deliver this alleged white flag.”

“It appears Rebekah has been quite the busy woman as of late including aligning with a witch powerful enough to get rid of The Hollow once and for all. Normally I’d hunt her down, demand answers and perhaps even dagger her if I didn’t like her new friend but like I’m allowing my siblings to have their own lives now.” Klaus replied.

“It does sound like Klaus Mikaelson but the words coming out make no sense.” Marcel joked.

“Why do I recognize that smell somehow?” Klaus asked while sniffing the air making Marcel nervous.

The Ancestral Plane

Rebekah and Bonnie stood there looking down what seemed like a never ending well for a while before their focus on the well was darted by the arrival of a group several ancestral witch spirits chanting in Croatian causing Rebekah and Bonnie to fall to their knees screaming in agonizing pain.

“Oh god I hate these bloody witches.” Rebekah screamed through the pain.

Bonnie quickly began chanting loudly in between screams of her own pain until her screams were silence by their screams making it clear Bonnie had overpowered them before making the spirits completely disappear.

“You’re proving yourself rather useful today Bonnie.” Rebekah said to her as the two of them rose back to their feet. “Keep it up!”

“I’d be careful about my sister delivering compliments.” Finn admitted appearing from behind a tree in the foggy bayou. “She is rarely ever kind without some kind of sinister twist.”

“It’s not my fault I’m not as predictable as some others in my family.” Rebekah said with a smile before vamp speeding over to Finn and hugging him. “I have missed your ever so judgmental face brother.”

“And I you Rebekah but sadly we’re on opposite ends once more.” Finn replied before snapping Rebekah’s neck catching her before she fell and laying her on the ground softly. “I am very sorry you have once again found yourselves entangled in my family’s dramas, but I can’t allow use to release my youngest brother.”

“No offence Finn but I’ve dealt with scarier Mikaelson’s than you before.” Bonnie replied making it clear she wasn’t backing down.

“Did my dear mother happen to mention the reason to which Henrik isn’t determined to kill any Malus witch despite it being in there blood well that’s because his blood is Mikaelson.” Finn revealed while walking towards Bonnie. “Sure, Malus witches love getting their hands on claiming any power, but they get a special kick from getting it from their own blood.”

“You mean to tell me that Henrik is now designed to destroy the Mikaelson’s I get just about anyone wanting you and your sibling’s dead but why would Nathaniel?” Bonnie asked him.

“Nathaniel was a new inexperienced witch he didn’t know what he was making when he brought my dear brother Henrik back from the dead however he does know what he’s making use all do now.” Finn admitted. “If Henrik is released from that well, he’ll stop at nothing until he’s consumed everything with power making nobody safe especially my siblings or my niece.”

“If he’s such a ticking time bomb then why Nathaniel would want him out, I mean if Henrik will wind up killing him too why risk that?” Bonnie wondered.

“Clearly no humanity remains in Nathaniel and he no longer cares for anything anymore not even his own survival which is hardly surprising after a thousand years of running he’s bound to be tired.” Finn told her just before they heard Esther’s screams from the well causing him to vamp speed over to Bonnie as they two looked down the well only to be hit by a blast of black smoke sending them both flying across the bayou both of their bodies harshly hitting the ground.

New Orleans

Elijah found himself walking down the busy streets within the French Quarter only to stopped in his tracks when noticing Nathaniel coming out from the crowd walking towards him leaving Elijah shell shocked to see someone, he believed had been dead for a long time.

“Elijah Mikaelson it’s been a very long time.” Nathaniel said while approaching closer to the original. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost which is understandable.”

“How are you alive?” Elijah asked clearly still in shock.

“I’ve been getting that far too much lately and I’m oh so tired of answering others when they should be answering me.” Nathaniel replied. “I removed The Hollow from you and your siblings and I’m the one who restored your memories I even cleaned up your little mistress to ensure she wouldn’t seek revenge.”

“What the bloody hell did you do to Raven?” Elijah snapped.

“The point is Rebekah is repaying her favour it’s only fitting you repay yours.” Nathaniel explained to him clearly dodging the conversation about the witch he had murdered.

“I don’t know what happened to you in all this time but if you are here to threaten my family, I promise you it won’t end well.” Elijah warned him. “Now please tell me how the hell a mere mortal who should’ve died centuries ago removed The Hollow and restored my memories.”

“Like I said I’ve grown tired of answering others it’s time for you to answer me.” Nathaniel snapped back. “You owe me Elijah Mikaelson and I expect that favour to be returned right now.”

“I know you’ve not been around us in a while so let me make myself perfect clear you don’t make demands of me or my family and whatever you expect my sister Rebekah to do for you in return for whatever the hell it is you did then think again.” Elijah said making it clear neither he nor his family were ones to be angered.

“Let me make myself self-clear Elijah I killed Raven Devereaux to ensure everything goes to my plan and I will not allow anything to stray of course.” Nathaniel replied before grabbing a hold of Elijah with force as the two disappeared in a puff of black smoke.

The Ancestral Plane

Rebekah, Finn and Bonnie rose to their feet in the darkly lit other worldly bayou to find a man now standing in front of the well instantly recognizing him as an older adult version of Henrik Mikaelson.

His face had a look of Klaus’ when plotting something dastardly, his body built like Kol’s with Finn’s height and hair long with the similar color and style to Elijah’s when Elijah was human and a smile as troublesome as his sister Rebekah’s. however, his eyes were completely black like the man who had raised him from the dead.

“Henrik!” Rebekah said with shock before starting to walk towards him only to be stopped by Finn.

“He’s not our Henrik at least not anymore.” Finn told her before she pushed him away and continued walking towards him.

“I know you have suffered greatly at the hands of too many but I’m your sister Henrik it’s me Rebekah I came here to free you from this world if I had known sooner you’ve been here all these years we would’ve came sooner.” Rebekah told her youngest sibling while continuing to walk towards him slowly.

“I can feel the power running through your body the power of the curse that was laid upon you by our mother.” Henrik finally spoke much to everyone’s shock. “I feel that power and there’s nothing I want more than to remove it from you no matter the cost.”

“What did you do with Esther?” Bonnie asked.

“She had a lot to make up for considering her many crimes against her own blood, so it was only fitting to feast on her soul to regain some strength to get out of that retched cage.” Henrik revealed his emotionless tone sending shivers down Rebekah, Finn and Bonnie’s spines.

“You consumed her, didn’t you?” Finn asked while moving himself in front of both Rebekah and Bonnie. “Like you want to consume us right now.”

“I guess one sibling is rather educated on what I’ve become.” Henrik replied. “Esther despite her many wicked acts wasn’t much of a snack if you pardon the term.”

“Bonnie begin the spell to leave this realm now and take Rebekah with you.” Finn told Bonnie with a clear sense of urgency.

“No, we’re not leaving you here Finn.” Rebekah replied before looking at Henrik. “We’re not leaving either of you.”

“You should probably take his advice.” Henrik advised Rebekah as Bonnie began chanting in Croatian.

Finn vamp sped over to Henrik who quickly held out his hand chanting in the same dead language as Nathaniel’s which stopped Finn in his tracks sending the eldest Mikaelson brother flying across the bayou hitting his body off a tree before harshly hitting the ground as Bonnie continued chanting in Croatian.

“Finn!” Rebekah screamed as she was held back by a chanting Bonnie.

New Orleans

Elijah woke up on the cold hard ground in an abandoned warehouse quickly rising to his feet as he noticed satanic markings forming a circle in which he had found him inside of as Nathaniel stood outside it looking rather smug with himself.

“You must have some kind of death wish because your clearly not planning on living much longer.” Elijah snapped at him.

“Finally, something we both agree on.” Nathaniel replied. “I never wanted to grow hostile with you Elijah but time we do not have. I want the spell in which turned you and your siblings into the original family of vampires.”

“Why the hell would you want that spell?” Elijah asked.

“Nether mind with the endless questions I only want answers not deliver them to me before I have to take things further than need be.” Nathaniel warned him.

“You’ve already killed somebody I cared for what else could you do.” Elijah said clearly growing angrier by the minute at his situation.

“I could kill somebody you love such as a certain hybrid mother to the daughter of Niklaus.” Nathaniel answered him. “You and your siblings maybe a little harder to kill but Hayley Marshall could be wiped out very easily.”

“Don’t you dare threaten her.” Elijah shouted.

“Then help me Elijah,” Nathaniel said while rolling his eyes. “Do you think I want this? I don’t’ want any of this but I need your help desperately and I will do whatever it takes to get it even if it means threatening the woman you love.”

“What could possibly have driven you to such madness?” He asked the Malus witch eager to learn why he had changed so much.

“I’ve been running for a thousand years and I’ve grown tired of running. I cannot stop running without my father Augustus finally being defeated but the only way for that to happen is for me to fully give into the madness of this Malus and destroy him once and for all.” Nathaniel explained. “The problem is once I do that I become as big a threat as Augustus himself and I’ve fought too hard to become the monster I’ve been running from.”

“Why the hell has any of this got to do with me or my family?” Elijah continued to quiz him.

“Because of your youngest sibling.” Nathaniel revealed.

“Rebekah has nothing to do with any of this except clearly turning to the wrong witch for help.” Elijah snapped at Nathaniel once again.

“I was talking about Henrik.” Nathaniel admitted.

#klaus mikaelson #rebekah mikaelson #elijah mikaelson #esther mikaelson #finn mikaelson #henrik mikaelson #bonnie bennett #marcel gerard #hayley marshall #josh rosza #the originals #the originals fanfiction #vampirediaries #vampire diaries fanfiction #legacies #legacies fanfiction #haylijah #alternativeseason

[ivyveil]

Love is the Punchline Prequel

the one where Harry is the universe and you are in love 

A Continuation of LITP (masterlist here)

You two had been drunk.

His hair was softened by the moonlight, tousled locks cascading across his forehead and curling against the tips of his ears. He looked disheveled and massively wasted. A Greek god who had stumbled into the sin of men, yet unable to fully shake his reverence.

You knew you were staring.

You couldn’t have been more obvious if you had a neon, flashing sign reading I’m Star-gazing in the Galaxies of Your Eyes. But what do kids who are told not to stare in the sun do? They stare anyway. So you continued, a dopey smile induced by whatever drink Harry had made you in his fancy ass kitchen, with his fancy ass kitchen supplies.

You wanted to nestle in his open jacket, feel the roughed cotton rolling into balls along the edges of the material, have the uneven tie-strings lay, lopsided, in between your heads. You wanted to place your head against the slope of his shoulder, into the darkened scruff of his neck, and inhale. Not for anything explicitly sexual, just because your soul craved to know what it was like to be his. Laying together in the silence that only belonged to you two, in the midst of a universe of noise.

You wanted to brush your fingers through his hair and get an idea of what it would look like in the morning. The thoughts that made your cheeks flush, a warm radiance perhaps indiscernible from the heat already surrounding.

Harry wasn’t oblivious however – in fact, the liquid racing through his veins made him unabashedly brave in staring back. Your makeup was a bit screwed up, the eyeliner missing in patches from when you were crying from laughter as he made stupid, stupid puns. He loved how you smiled when he was being an idiot, being himself.

He poked each of your cheeks (after missing once and pushing your nose inwards by mistake) and giggled to himself. To him, you were the epitome of feeling alive.

“My head is too heavy,” you mumbled, feeling the command from your body to relax your arms and let gravity do its work. You slouched further in the grass, resting your head on one of the pathway stones. You were in Harry’s private backyard garden, a bottle of rum tucked between Harry’s legs and a gathering of gnomes watching from the tomato patch.

Harry was slouched against the side of his house, donning an unzipped jacket, sweats, and god-awful Nike sliders. It was one of the few outfits he made you promise, multiple times, to never mention to anyone for fear it would leak to the public. Not that he genuinely thought you would, but after you saw his collection of ‘Normal Clothing’ you started continuously sending him pictures of clothing you considered “fuck-boy, Haz, it’s the shit girls don’t keep when the boys leave because they’ll find the same stuff anywhere.” He just wanted to make it clear, he would only be this expression of himself around you.

Right now, he wasn’t Mega Pop Icon Harry Styles, he was a drunk friend making O shapes with his mouth like a guppy and giggling quietly to himself, over God-knows-what. His butterfly tattoo movedwith each laugh, his skin patched slightly with dirt from when he tried to roll down a ‘hill’ that was genuinely nonexistent, a product of his drunken imagination.

“C’mon, over here then, love,” he straightened up, offering an arm to you and a spot next to him against the house. In an attempt to persuade you, he moved the bottle to his side and shook his hand through his hair. As if you would be goaded into curling up next to his shirtless form simply because he was cleaned up a bit.

Didn’t this boy know you would do anything he asked you to, and that would only get worse after a night drinking?

You slowly lifted yourself off the ground and crawled over to Harry, groaning as your body protested. Pushing some dirt off his shoulder, you tucked yourself under his arm and placed yours gently on his stomach.

The night was quiet.

“That’s better,” he whispered, eyes scanning the top bits of your face visible to him, as he tucked a piece of your hair behind your ear.

You loved it too much, you knew that perfectly well. You grinned nonetheless and tried to hide it by moving your face closer to his bare chest. Which didn’t necessarily help, because now you were surrounded by his aura and felt intoxicated for another reason entirely.

Harry wrapped his arm tighter around you, pulling your gentle beauty closer to him in the process. Your hair smelled like vanilla and that one hair product you always used – the one in the green bottle? He didn’t know the name, but he made a mental note to buy you 500 jars of it when he had access to his computer. Feeling smug at how greatly he would be able to provide for you, even in a small way, he nestled deeper in the space his body was occupying, taking a deep breath of the cold night air.

The world was spinning slightly after the bit he drank (“’M not a lightweight” he had, embarrassingly, slurred before you opened his patio door outside, but you both knew that was the biggest lie) but everything became extraordinarily sharp as he felt the puffs of your exhales against his chest. Maybe it was the feeling of masculinity that caused the swell of pride in his chest, some instinctive sense that yes, he felt complete. His heart was so full with contentment.

Harry had grown up with the idea that he would be able to clearly recognize when his soul had been etched with someone’s name, like the universe would send a lightning bolt and he would suddenly feel his home transfer from the physical into some emotional connection with another’s soul.

Yet he had known for a while - all that you were to him. It wasn’t anything worth words – the most basic, simple things of life didn’t need to be drawn out into massive explanations. He could wax poetic words like the best of them, but he hadn’t found the proper analogies for something as simple and pure as you. Whatever the universe was centered around, didn’t matter, because it had become you, for him.

Not in a massive, delusional way. More like the sunrise echoed only softly how your eyes would shine, a sky set on fire. The feeling right before a thunderstorm made him think of your movie nights together. Being wrapped up in “oodles of blankets, Haz, we need oodles” and not minding when you lit all 12 of his candles, because Tangled had so many lanterns and you wanted to mimic the lake scene.

“You’re going to need to tap into your enthusiasm tomorrow, Haz.”

Harry blinked, groggily searching through his fuzzy mind to try and figure out what the hell you were talking about. After a brief moment of expectant silence, you sighed and leaned out from your safe haven in his arms to look at him.

One eye was now completely rid of eyeliner, Harry felt certain it was on his chest somewhere, an addition to the rest of the ink already there.

“Your horoscope, H. Gotta get jazzed up for your life soon, change is coming.”

“Yeh read my horoscope?” It had never occurred to him, despite your amateur obsession with the topic, that you would read others’ daily advice. Could his heart grow any more for you?

“Course. Wanna make sure the universe is taking care of my boy,” you sounded casual, scrunching your face together in an attempt of seeming like an authority figure, but it just reminded Harry of bunnies twitching their noses.

He giggled.

“If I’m yours, I just want you taking care of me, love.”

He knew the words were coming out, it wasn’t a mistake. It could be taken completely platonically, but the hushed tone of his voice – the shred of hesitancy that clouded over the flow of conversation – transferred his stance. A moment before, he had been a source of comfort and ease, and then he suddenly became an emblem of fragility, fingers itching to reach out and touch the skin of a person they could never know every inch of, before.

The moment felt inevitable, exciting and the most natural thing in the world. Harry saw a questioning glance shade over your eyes, before registering into something he couldn’t quite place.

To put it honestly, you wanted to kiss him. In the wild, dirty sense of the word – it really wasn’t much of a rapid mental shift after Harry spoke, because the idea had been lurking just beyond the horizon of your mind all night.

To grind your hips into his and see if the bones connected as well as your souls. You wanted to kiss him because you wanted to see how he’d react if you pulled on his hair, your lips moving harshly against the stubble on his chin. See if his ears were sensitive, if marks on his neck were the key to making him moan, make his hands move faster than his brain.

You wanted to see his weaknesses and for him to see your strengths. You wanted to prove yourself to him in a way you had never before, could have never before. It echoed in your ribcage as an incessant longing, an itch you couldn’t scratch until you saw his eyes flutter closed, to see the millions of galaxies blindingly exploding on the backs of his eyelids.

But…

In the back of your mind, you knew he wouldn’t be able to remain for the commitment afterwards. To kiss him would be connected to the risk of never being able to kiss him in the same way again. Time changed people, an entire tour wouldn’t leave enough for you two to reconnect as the same individuals.

To know what could be, and to know it was possible both a beginning and an ending, caused your fingers to still from their pattern tracing his butterfly’s antennas. You were back, tucked into his side, feeling the heat radiate from his skin. Nothing had altered much in your outward countenance, or the way you kept your eyes focused on his potted daisies across the yard.

“(Y/N)…” It was strained, his eyes attached to a point on the roof so as not to be compelled to move before he knew what was on your mind. He had heard a low moan come out of your mouth as you were mentally imagining everything you could do to his body in the span of eternity, and it only made his own imagination run wild.

“C’mon, love, take what’s yours.”

So you did. Shifting yourself upwards, a bit slowly to ignore the dizzy sensation, you slotted one of your legs in between his. You two slowly took the other in, looking in the others’ eyes. His had never looked clearer, his tongue moving slowly around his lips as his eyes noticeably grew darker. He looked like a starved man, his head angled, tilting at a side to properly look at your beautiful face. He distinctly registered how red your cheeks were, how absolutely gorgeous you were at that moment.

You looked good all the time, in his truthful opinion, but it was an extraordinarily strange and surreal experience for him to realize that your beauty was so impressive to him at that moment, because it was all because of him. You were glowing because he made you feel like no one else. Harry only knew this because, for him, it was the same. You two were the same, identical cores pulsating under your breasts and echoing in your thoughts.

Like a trigger, you both set off. Tongue everywhere you could mark him, his hands grasping for anything they could manage in the suffocating exhilaration, the intoxication upping to unknown territories once he grew familiar with the taste of you. You swallowed your laughter at his excitement, how his breath became heavy and he shuddered with each bite against his collarbones.

His moans resonated in the air, sinking around the two of you and slowing down the constraints of time. The nature around you was in awe of his respiration, your gentle moans. It was something epic, beautiful, orgasmic in the natural rhythm of intimacy. Like a piano creating a melody out of thin air, he was an orchestra of harmony against your chest, his lips rushing crescendos against opening of your blouse.

“Jesus, woman,” he muttered, exasperated, as your hips swayed against his. (The bones connected, your souls connected, you didn’t know life could feel this good). You knew right then, you could fill the emptiness within his soul, patch up the wounds left by others. You could decorate his hair with flowers and make him the golden god of the universe. Because right then, everything about Harry was hypnotic, the heaviness of his eyelids, his lips swollen from pushing, biting, enveloping yours.

“Haz, you’ve got to be the most exquisite man I’ve ever known,”

You pushed his jacket off his shoulders, wrapping your fingers around his shoulders as you leaned in close to his ear. He was positively shaking, a quiet, inhuman noise escaping his throat as he slowly wrapped his hands around your waist to hold you steady. It only satisfied your theory that he was an entity beyond all humans, that the Sun would snatch him back in an instant.

“Y-yeah?” the strength of his grip wasn’t reflected in the staccato’ed pitch of his voice.

You nodded, humming a confirmation as your fingers drew close to the drawstrings of his pants, delicately brushing against the slew of tattoos littering his sides. The skin was delicate, pale under the moonlight.

Then, one of his hands reached forward to tuck between your two bodies, to wrap around your fingers. It was a gentle tug, enough for you to know he was regretful in doing so, but firm nonetheless.

“Y/N…I don’t, I don’t think that’s, it’s what we should do,” he started, seeing your gaze come up and his eyes shifted to either side of you, randomly staring at various points in his garden. You could feel his heart. It was racing.

“I have things I want to say. Before we do, I mean if we were to do-”

“Okay, Haz. We can talk, it’s fine.” you assured him, moving slightly away from his body so you wouldn’t be fully straddling the poor boy as he attempted to catch his breath. You had some straightening up to do, as well, fixing your bra straps he had somehow tangled up in his rushed motion to reach all pieces of your skin.

“Thank you.”

You were sitting on a barstool in his kitchen, an untouched glass of water on the counter. Harry had poured you one, saying you should start getting hydrated before exhaustion finally kicked in. You were fairly certain it was all his nerves, though, that he wasn’t sure what to do after what happened in the garden. He had simply reverted to the safe place of playing Host. You slouched further in your chair.

He was leaning against the counter, facing you, running his hands down his face. His jacket was securely on again, this time zipped. You were sure Harry had realized the scattered beginnings of purple markings against his chest would just make the conversation more difficult to have.

You finally sipped some water, not taking your eyes off Haz’s face, wondering why it looked so squishy as he ran his hands back up again.

You weren’t nervous exactly, to hear what he had to say. It was going to be a confession, followed by an apology. Something like, “I think you’re a great girl” followed by “I want us to stay friends.” The letdown was already etched in your mind, your body ready to respond to the rejection and take it in stride. You were never expecting Harry to truly confine himself to just being yours, not when he was ineffably Everything the creators had blessed the universe with.

(You never claimed to be subtle or hold back exaggeration, not when Harry was the most true person in your realm of existence.)

“I really like yeh,” he began, staring deeply at the floor. His hands went from tugging at the roots at the nape of his neck, to being stuffed in his pockets.

“I like you too, Haz.” You set the glass down, folding your arms and leaning against the counter. Fighting against the sinking feeling, you couldn’t let him feel sorry for you.

“No, listen for a mo’. I…” he turned his head to the side, squinting his eyes shut as he tried to find the words. They were painfully clear to him, but his mouth wasn’t in collaboration with his mind, a blockade of fear and nerves pounding through his veins.

“It’s okay, Harry,” Your words were gentle. Your heart felt heavy in your chest. It tried to fight your mind, scream out the words it scrawled against the jail of your lungs for years, the poems and odes to things as stupid as how adorable Harry was when he washed his hands before setting the kitchen table. But, hearts couldn’t win in the game of Protecting Yourself. This wasn’t some movie, it was your real life and your life wouldn’t be the same without Harry. Nothing else mattered, keeping him close was what kept you feeling sane.

You could give up loving him, if it meant he would still be there. Couldn’t you?

Being something more with Harry would feel like a waiting game for you, it was the fear that kept you from being honest with him, with yourself. You rationalized that it was the concept of not being able to have someone, the obstacle of it being firmly rooted as a friendship and thus developing into a game that had kept Harry intrigued and wrapped in the threads of your lust for him.

You weren’t necessarily low on self-confidence, but how could you keep up with someone like him? His words moved the world, and yours couldn’t even leave your thoughts. Harry Styles was the epitome of feeling alive, to you.

There was no way you could measure up.

Thinking back over the whole idea, the quick thought of confessing how his laughter was the only thing lately drawing you out of the depressed haze of reality, your bravery shrank in the cold light of sobriety.

“It wouldn’t be a good idea,” you agreed to his nonexistent response, missing the hurt confusion that trickled down his face. His spine felt cold, doubt circulating the edges of his vision. Hadn’t you wanted it too, out in the garden?

It was your turn to keep your eyes down, to proceed on with the last words you ever wanted to tell him. Or maybe second to last words, since you were apparently too scared to confess anything honest.

“You’re about to travel, you’ve got work to do. I’ve got projects coming up. It’s our time to be there for each other. Can’t do that if we’ve mucked around throwing blurred lines on the perimeters of such a great, great friendship.” The bitterness was lost in your exhaustion of saying the words, the corners of your eyes stinging and your lungs burning as you looked up.

Harry was silently staring at you, his expression unreadable. It was unnerving, making eye contact with him in this way, and you wondered, with brief anger, if he was upset you didn’t want to give him a quickie before he jetted off around the globe for months.

In reality, that didn’t seem like him, but you never claimed to be completely rational. Not when everything in life had become so difficult, so quickly.

“Yeah,” he croaked out, nodding. The words were vapid, empty, a hollow agreement.

A brief hesitation, a determination sweeping over his features. His eyes were intense, boring directly into yours and softening slightly.

“I love…”

The silence was deafening.

“Don’t, Haz.” The lump in your throat was a mountain created in seconds, a pathetic echo replaced your voice as someone you had never known before. A woman, scared of love, scared of anything remotely beyond the comfort of predictability.

A woman who had caused Harry to freeze, devastation lapsing his entire body. His shoulders slumped.

Harry looked away first, nodding again as if it was the only programmed response he had in his turned-off brain.

“I love being friends,” he finished, the words sounding warped, strangled. He had a brief coughing fit, and reached for your water, looking up to ask for permission. You nodded, pushing the glass towards him and watching as he slowly drank the rest of it. His eyes were shut tight as he drank, and the echo of heartbreak didn’t leave his posture when he put the glass in the sink.

He didn’t look you in the eye when he shuffled off his god-awful Nike sliders by the patio door.

Or when he slowly locked it, pressing the panel next to the door that set the alarm for the night.

Or when he started to walk back to his room.

All he did was pause in the hallway, between the kitchen and the space leading to his room, shifting his body slightly to indicate that yes, he was speaking to you.

“I need sleep. Jeff’ll kill me if I’m hungover on the flight tomorrow.”

Hollow pangs of desperation stung, tearing its talons against your flesh, into your throat, around your mind. Your eyes were stinging with the need to cry, but your heart yanked back the waterfall before it could begin pouring out.

You had done this on purpose, with clear intention, there was nothing wrong with wanting to stay friends. It was keeping you both safe, keeping your lives orderly and not any different from the past few years, which had been some of the most joyful and content of your life.

It was only the drinks that had made this hard, you told yourself. Everything would be fine in the morning, once you two could reasonably look this over and agree it was a drunken, confusing, mistake.

All you could manage was a mumbled, “Okay” before he continued, his back still faced to you.

“Text meh. When ‘m away. Don’t want this to make..to have made anything weird between us.”

He left.

You both knew how his earlier words were supposed to have ended, how you were supposed to repeat them back, because it was the truth.

Everything was wrong.

You were in his dark kitchen alone. Your arms wrapped around your body tightly, nails digging into your sides without any mercy. Your back was hunched over, protecting your lungs and heart from shattering. Your body knew the process as if it had been trained to deal with this. You had prepared for this, after all. You brought this on yourself.

Slowly, with the distinct impression the night had not actually happened and you would wake up wrapped in Harry’s arms as he justified his midnight cuddle sessions as “just an accident, nothing I wouldn’t do with Nick, love,” you made your way to his guest room. The door was foreign to you, never having been where you spent the night, for the entirety of your friendship with Harry.

In fact the bed was unmade, Harry having assumed that you would take his room with him because that’s just what you two did. And him not having given it proper thought after you shred his heart apart in the span of seconds, mercilessly and intentionally.

You curled into a ball on your side, the naked mattress feeling like a shell against your skin. Against the overall intense feeling of nausea that had become a tyrant in your system, an insufferable bubble of laughter pushed through.

You felt sure you made the right, moral decision to maintain your relationship with Harry - to keep it clear of assured destruction and the eventual heartbreak when he discovered the depths of your flaws. It was the smart thing to do, because you were a smart girl. You made rational decisions that protected your future, that was all you knew.

Somewhere in the house, you heard a loud bang. Something had smashed against a wall. There was a brief silence, before the crying began several rooms away.

You had never felt so alone.

Love was a fucking joke.

A/N: Check the masterlist of LITP here, and let me know your thoughts if you would like!  

#harry styles fanfic #harry styles fanfiction #archive of our own #mine #one direction fanfic #one direction fanfiction #one direction fic #harry styles fluff #harry styles drabble #harry styles blurb #harry styles fic

[mimicofmodes]

Sanditon, episode 7 part i

Finally! The worst part of starting a set of recaps when you have a backlog to go through is knowing that you suddenly have to wait a week for the next episode.

We open on Charlotte, alone, her hair a complete mess, in her fairly boring but still accurate to ca. 1821 (in the sleeves) spencer. (I don’t like the darts. It’s very common in 19th century productions to do these two parallel, equal darts on either side ... but a) a single dart on each side would be more common at this time and b) when double darts were in use, they were normally spaced closer together and angled away from each other on each side. This is a modernism that jars me.)

Charlotte is staring at Lady Denham’s body (you see how I cleverly hid the spoiler below the cut). I’m not really sure why she’s there alone when she’s not a member of the family or even a close acquaintance. But wait! Dr. Fuchs says that her condition is “precarious”, so she’s not dead yet.

Esther’s dress seems very 1820s (I hope we get a better look in a bit as it has some details I really like) and is a gorgeous shade of green that really works for her and stands out from the very muddled clothing everyone else is wearing.

Georgiana has taken to her bed, and Sidney’s arrival doesn’t cheer her up even though he really regrets how bad of a father figure he’s been (okay, how many years older is he supposed to be? It feels very Heyer-y, assuming Sidney/Charlotte, that a man would fall in love with a woman the same age as his ward).

Charlotte runs into the Stringers before going into Georgiana’s, and their rapport is just ... not quite as there as it’s been. Young Stringer is as cute and charming as ever, but for once Charlotte doesn’t feel the need to really smile back at him. :/ She puts off a conversation with him for another time, and then goes in, where she meets Sidney. After she sees G (offscreen), they meet up outside again and have a little flirty banter. T_T

Mmm, now THAT is what I’m talking about. The cut of her dress overall reminds me of this 1822 fashion plate, with the gathered bodice and “petals” over the sleeve. The neckline is a little deep but all the necklines are too deep, because people have a hard time really believing that shallow necklines were fashionable in the late 1810s and 1820s. Anyway, Clara is being bratty about their aunt’s death while Esther seems to truly feel the loss and ... honestly, I don’t like this. It’s coming off to me as a “lady with real emotions vs commoner who only cares about money” dynamic, like Esther’s extremely recent adversity has blazed the dross from her soul while Clara having sex on camera (with someone it’s strongly implied that Esther has already been sleeping with) has damned her.

Esther is still under the impression that there was no will because Edward, if you remember, let her think so in order to conceal his bargain and tryst with Clara. Well, Clara spilled the beans, upping her share to 50% as she does so. And then - we find out through Clara’s cleverness that Esther’s never slept with Edward, which just doubles down on the gross subtext going on here about each woman’s worth. Don’t like it, don’t like it at all. Sidney/Charlotte is a pleasure compared to this.

When Edward comes out, also being a jerk about Lady Denham’s death, Esther goes in without saying a word to him. She has an excellent monologue at her unconscious aunt, spilling all the beans herself. As much as I don’t like the subtext, part of me hopes that there’s an earlier will lodged with a solicitor that leaves everything to Esther, something Lady D had drawn up in a fit of pique, because it would be funny if all the machinations led to her getting it all.

Back to Charlotte and Tom Parker, who are planning out the regatta that has to save Sanditon and the Parkers, because if it doesn’t they’re all ruined. The little Parker girls run in to tell them that Sidney’s back ... and he’s brought Eliza Campion with him. Charlotte is stricken, even though she still has a perfectly wonderful Stringer, and Sidney seems a little low as well.

Things are tense between Esther and Edward when Dr. Fuchs and Clara run in; the former overjoyed, the latter not so much. Lady Denham is on the mend! One wonders if she heard all the beans Esther spilled.

It’s regatta day, and Tom Parker’s a mess! Babington and Crowe are less messy, Babington extremely less so in his dove-grey coat and hat. Crowe looks more dissolute, and tells Babington that he hasn’t practiced with his boat as practicing is basically cheating. Ah, nice, we’ll get some comedy out of that, I’m sure.

After meeting Charlotte on the beach, playing with the children, Eliza can tell something is up. She tells Sidney that Charlotte is a sweet girl with an air of reminding him that Charlotte is much younger than him and maybe not an appropriate partner. (She’s also very nice about the regatta starting with a children’s sandcastle competition rather than critical, which gives me a little bit of hope for the ship.)

True to form, Arthur wants to be part of the “Parker brothers rowing team” (finally, someone said it) and Diana has a list of reasons why he can’t. Her spencer’s length feels very 1820s to me, though it doesn’t have the necessary sleeve puffs, and it is a nice cheerful color that she normally doesn’t wear. She flirts the tiniest bit with some young noblemen who’ve evidently come to town for the regatta, which is cute - she rarely gets to do anything but hold Arthur back - and then they see ...

Susan! And she is evidently a Lady Worcester and I just ... I thought this might be where they were going, but I hoped if I said nothing she wouldn’t be Lady Susan of Lady Susan, the tiresome squishing in of things from other books would be over, but it’s not. And it doesn’t make sense, Lady Susan would never give impartial, kind advice to some young lady at a ball, but, whatever. She is well-turned-out if nothing else, the petals on her sleeves putting her in a relatively fashion-forward position. The siblings rush to tell Tom, who runs off in the middle of judging the competition.

Susan is kind of rude to the Parkers, who are so proud that she’s come to Sanditon, because she wants to talk to Charlotte. (She is apparently also a mistress of the Prince of Wales. That he’s still the Prince means that all the 1820s stuff in the show is a leetle early.)

We’re totally happy you’re alive, we weren’t counting on you being dead at all! They honestly look like a pretty couple, both blonde and in black (or very dark) and white, which makes them an especially strong contrast with Esther.

Yep, she heard what Esther was saying. She disowns Edward, gives Clara orders to pack, and tells them both never to come near her again. Esther’s now her heir. Well, I kind of wanted it to happen, but I wanted it to be in a less judgey way. Lady D has been horrible to Clara, really, treating her like Fanny Price (oh dang, I guess that was a reference as well), so I can’t help but feel she has her own self to blame for Clara’s venality.

Susan comes out a strong Sidney/Charlotte shipper, telling her to persevere in winning his affections. When she goes to speak to Eliza, Charlotte slips off and goes for a walk with Stringer. Oh no. I have a very bad feeling that he’s going to declare himself and she’ll turn him down. D:

Tom thinks Sid should just pop the question and marry Eliza; Art isn’t sure he would trust a woman who broke his heart.

OH NO, IT’S HAPPENING. I’m not strong enough for this. I can’t handle it.

Pinpointing the exact moment when he realizes, as she candidly tells him that she once thought her feelings for a mysterious man were reciprocated but now knows they aren’t, that she’s talking about someone else and isn’t interested in him anymore.

#sanditon #austen #jane austen #regency #19th century #1810s #you sunk my battleship!

[ask-ohmtoonz]

Ohmtoonz - Endless Ambition

chapter one: Zero

Ryan loved the kingdom outskirts, he loved comparing the vast and never sleeping town to the fresh and grassy fields that kept his home hidden from any other kingdom or rogue thieves. His home- The Todian Kingdom was safe and peaceful. He often remembered racing his older brother down the hills, seeing how far up he could go, before gravity forced him tumbling down to the city.

The hills surrounded the town almost perfectly, aside from the occasional smoke from a production line, the town was out of sight. Nobody new came in, not without the entire kingdom knowing. Especially the king.

The king was strict and calm, his two sons always tried to show off, trying to prove that they deserved to be the next rightful ruler to show that they were capable of leading the kingdom the same way as their father. The smaller prince, Prince Luke was agile, but also incredible at hand to hand combat, he often left those lucky to watch him spar, breathless.  He had the looks and the brain, he was charming and friendly to all those around him. Ryan believed he would be the heir to the throne.

The other prince, Prince Tyler was larger, standing at 6’1 with incredible muscle, he had been able to punch through rocks and not even flinch. He constantly helped anyone in the town, showing off by lifting up any object that was considered moderately heavy. He loved showing off to everyone about how powerful he was, he was short tempered, but definitely a loveable guy.

“Ryan, stop getting distracted,” his older brother scolded, nudging the smaller boy in front of him.

His older brother was rather short, blue eyes, black scruffy hair and a very faint stubble, he wore a dark blue hoodie and some baggy cargo pants.

Ryan nodded quickly and followed him, pulling his own, stolen, grey hoodie up. His jeans were ripped to hell, but at least they kept him warm.  

“Oi! stop drooling over the castle and get moving, we don't have all day.” His older brother- Jonathan reminded fimly, nudging his younger brother forward and out of the way to other townspeople.

Jonathan was a tall and muscular, he was taller than Ryan by a few feet and his muscles were noticeable in his rather tight shirt, at first glance, the brothers looked completely different, they had different skin tones, Ryan was as white as snow, while Jonathan had a type of olive skin. Ryan had soft hazel eyes while Jonathan had a set of piercing blue eyes. Jonathan was the better brother, Ryan knew that. His brother was going to leave a legacy that Ryan knew he wouldn’t be able to fulfill.

The two walked together quietly, the townspeople all rushed around besides them, but they didn’t mind. Jonathan stopped at an alley and headed down it, tossing a cloak at Ryan who caught it and put it on, immediately knowing what they were going to do.

The town often held public executions, trying to underline the fact that they would be punished. Yet, Ryan and Jonathan continued to steal, besides, it was only illegal if you were caught.

Ryan swiftly grabbed his brothers hand as the drew close to the gallows, he hated the idea of watching criminals reach for the thick rope crushing their windpipes, leaving permanent bruises that never got the chance to heal, the way they desperately squirmed and clawed at their necks was haunting. He could never understand which sadist thought that hanging people was a good idea. Especially with kids watching. It disgusted Ryan and he prayed that one of the princes would remove it once they got into power. “I hate this.” he muttered, hiding his head in his taller brothers shoulder as he heard choked breaths and the wooden frame creak, Jonathan just gave a curt nod, holding onto the smaller man’s hand and tugging him away from the gruesome scene, he knew a shortcut, but it meant they had to walk past the ‘chopping block’. Which was pretty self explanatory.

Jonathan knew his younger brother hated running past the guillotine, he hated it as well, but he knew he didn’t have the position to complain, it often came to survival to run past the guillotine, he even threw the decapitated heads at one of the guards so they were distracted and he could make it home.

The two continued to run, ignoring the cheer of the town people as the sharp blade sliced the man's head clean off, the head landed in the basket with a thud, which made Ryan flinch, his grip was impossibly tight on his older brothers hand, Jonathan kept tugging him along, forcing the smaller brother to keep running, they were almost out of the area, almost to their destination.

The crowd soon dispersed as Ryan and Jon made it out of the main city streets, the men panted and leaned against a wall. Ryan pressed two fingers to his neck, feeling his pulse, he sighed, his pulse was racing, yet stable, like his body was getting used to the sudden bursts of adrenaline. Jonathan smiled at his brother, pulling the hoodie way up over his eyes, “Come on Ohmie, Mask on,” He ordered, slipping his own mask on, which was just an old hockey mask.

Ryan stuck his tongue out and grabbed his blindfold from his pocket, before slipping it on over his eyes. Ryan was definitely more in touch with his sense, his hearing was incredible, so was his sense of touch and his ability to remain undetected. Jonathan was the best fighter he knew, he had troubles being quiet and often gave his position away, but that was a small price to pay when he could easily thrash anyone who got in his way. “Fuck you, Delirious,” He giggled.

Code names were often common around their friend group. Mainly because their tasks were incredibly illegal, as stealing tended to be. Delirious was a code name that the brother earned, it was for his “psychopathic laugh” but Ryan knew a different reason the name was given to him, it had something to do with his brother’s secret love life. Ryan didn't know how he got his nickname, but Ohm just suited him, yet whenever he asked anyone for a proper explanation, they just brushed him off and said, “You’ll know when you're older.”

Jonathan laughed and punched his brothers shoulder, “At least i know what my code name means,” He taunted, walking off without another word, leaving Ryan to whine and follow.

“As if it isn’t obvious! You and your boyfriend are ‘deliriously’ in love.” Ryan teased, jogging to his brother’s side. “You do know you can get executed for that, dude.” he said quietly, looking down.

Jonathan went silent, “As if, I’m the only one who knows what my boyfriend looks like, You don’t even know his name,” He chuckled, keeping his voice low as he started to walk again, heading down the empty street towards some abandoned buildings, the city was empty here, aside from the few thieves and tourists that were drawn to the mystery of the place, Ryan dreaded this part of their daily commute, he knew that getting through the public punishment was bad, but compared to the endless amount of climbing he had to do now was a pain in his ass.

The first part of the climb was to scale a building, the building had been half knocked down, so the bricks were sticking out, they definitely weren’t stable enough to climb, but it had to be done.

Or so they thought.

Just as they turned into the final alley before the climbing began, Jonathan tensed, he pushed Ryan back behind him as he stared at the tall Irishman in front of him, the man was wearing some thick armour, he was one of the kings knights, it was obvious because of the crown symbol above his heart on the chest plate, a loaded gun in his hand, however, the gun was doubled as a sword, it was sharp enough to pierce through someone completely, the gun aspect came into play for long distance fights.

“Well if it isn't me favourite commonplace thieves,” The knight spoke, his Irish accent thick as he spoke, making Jonathan visibly relax. “Oh thank fucking god, it’s just you,” Jonathan visibly relaxed, before hugging the taller man in a friendly gesture. “You had me scared for, half a second there, Daithi.” He laughed.

Daithi chuckled and precipitated the hug, rubbing the thief's back gently, before pulling away, “Ye should always be scared of me, especially since I got promoted,” He bragged.

“Really? That’s great! Good on you man!” Jonathan smiled brightly, pulling away, Ryan poked his head around the corner, just in time to watch Jonathan slip Daithi’s wallet into his pocket. “So whatcha doing here then?” He asked, trying to keep the kings-guard distracted.

Daithi smiled and waved at Ryan, “Oh, I’ve just gotta do some patrols,” He explained, “So. what are the thieves up to today?” he asked.

Jonathan grinned under his mask and pulled Daithi’s wallet out, “The usual.” Daithi gasped, his hands latched to his pockets, “What, Wha-?!” he squealed, snatching the wallet back and holding it to his chest, “Ye need to stop that!” he pouted, pocketing his wallet and folding his arms childishly.

Jonathan laughed and stuck his tongue out, “Maybe you should be more alert, Mr King's’ Knight,” He grinned, slipping past the knight and looking to his younger brother, “Come on, Ohm, we’ve got work to do,” He said calmly.

The knight rolled his eyes, “Be careful you two, I’m probably the only nice knight you’ll see for a while.” He warned as Ryan slipped past him, standing at his brother's side.

Jonathan smiled and nodded, “Yeah yeah, but we’ll be fine, it’s not like we’ve been doing this since our parents were alive.” Jon jokes, walking off and heading towards the beginning of the climb, Ryan went quiet at the mention of his parents, when he was born, the birth killed his mother, he didn’t really know much about his dad, other than he was incredibly quiet, maybe he was quiet to mourn his wife. Ryan didn’t know. Jon did, but never told him.

The two climbed in moderate silence, gripping the bricks of the large, demolished wall, he glanced up at his brother, watching the more flexible man scale the wall effortlessly, he climbed to the top and sat on the more stable part of the wall, accidentally kicking dust in his brothers face.

Ryan cringed at the dust and held back a sneeze, his mask was good at hiding his facial features, but not good at protecting him from dust or sand. “Thanks,” he muttered, holding onto the bricks tighter and turning to wipe his face on his shoulder, shaking his head for good measure, before continuing to climb up the wall.

Jonathan grinned at him, he looked around the surrounding area to make sure nobody was following him, when he was certain they were safe, he looked over to their location, which was a large warehouse covered by trees, he could already see some of his friends head into the building, some with their familiars, some with just their large shiny weapons and the occasional magician, flaunting off their magic to the bored thieves next to them, he smiled warmly, the thieves knew each other incredibly well, it was like a huge supportive family.

He looked back down at his brother and grabbed his wrist, pulling him the final way up, “We’re almost there, but we can take a break if you want,” He suggested, watching his brother wipe his hands on his hood.

Ryan shook his head, he grinned at Jon, “Why? Are you tired or something? Does my big brother need another nap?” he asked, he was secretly kinda tired, but he didn’t want to slow his brother down because of it.

Jonathan laughed, “As if, i used to have to do this with you on my back because you were scared of heights,” He teased, grabbing a rope from nearby and hooking it along a suspended hook, it was designed to make it easier for them to get back up and down the building to the warehouse.

The two finally made their way down the rope, Jonathan whined and complained about the slight burn in his non-gloved hands, Ryan simple laughed and flicked his older brother’s nose gently, before heading to the warehouse, more commonly referred to as “Zero.”

Just past a large fence, was Zero, Zero was absolutely packed with thieves, all ranging from different skill sets, some had incredible agility like Jonathan, while other could tank hits and deliver lethal blows that could often end a fight, Right there and then. Some thieves were incredibly rich, helping to keep Zero nice and stable with their wealth, which also gave shelter to the lower level thieves that didn't have anywhere to safely live. However Zero wasn’t just a thieves only haven, the place often had warriors and medics that struggled to find a stable job, magician's and abandoned hybrids were also welcomed with open arms. Zero was different since it had variety.

#hhh hop yall like this new series #ohmtoonz #fanfic #endless ambition

[hermeticimp]

Underwater Ariel’s Your Eeveelution Tarot Spread - My Results

Hey! I’ve been meaning to do with this one for awhile and now I finally have the energy to sit down and do this. Eevee has always been one of my favorite Pokemon, so when I saw this spread by @underworldariel, I was ecstatic to try it!

I used both of my decks again in this reading: The Linestrider Tarot and The Arcana official tarot deck. Below is a picture of the cards.

Eevee - Current me 

I drew The Tower (L) and Six of Cups (A). Right now, I’m in the midst of massive changes and revelations. I’ve been delving more into my spirituality, which has forced me to come to terms with a lot of issues. It’s been intense and I’m still finding my path, but I know it’s for the best. I’ve already started to see some of the benefits. My revelations have lead me to explore my past, both in regards to past lives and past memories. Some unbidden feelings have been drawn up, but most of the past reminders have brought me joy. I know that exploring my past is a key to growth. I have to deal with past problems, confront them, and let them go. My personal history is important, but making sure I change from that past is equally so. 

Jolteon - What sparks my energy and revitalizes me?

I drew  Two of Wands (L) and Four of Wands Reversed (A). My spark lies in growing more independent, starting new endeavors, and cleansing my life of things that may be holding me back. Lately, I’ve been spending more and more time considering what I want versus any expectations of what I should do. I’m pursuing a path that best suits my needs and interests. I’ve always been rather indecisive and worried about how others might feel about what I do. All that’s done is made me doubt and ignore myself. I’ve been feeling a lot more energetic and excited since I’ve turned away from that. That’s led me to start deciding what it’s time for me to leave behind. It make shake up my stability and old habits, but hey, out with the old, and in with the new. 

Flareon - What inspires your drive and passions? 

I drew Four of Pentacles Reversed (L) and Eight of Cups Reversed (A).  My drive and passions are inspired by material desire and trusting my instincts. Let’s face it: I enjoy beautiful and new things. I like to surround myself with things that either remind me of myself or of the beauty of the world. It’s my way of dealing with my fears of the world and my own insecurity. It’s a trait I have to work on though because it can lead to danger if I end up overspending. Beyond earthly pleasures, developing my intuition is a huge driving factor with me. I want to push this ability to its full extent, but at the same time, I know I shouldn’t let my passion get ahead of me. I’m working at the right pace for me and I’ve seen plenty of results. I’m just excited to see where I’m going to end up. 

Umbreon - What’s the shadow side of you that nobody sees?

For this, I drew Strength Reversed (L) and The Devil (A). How apt, is the first thought that comes to mind for a question like this. The side of me that nobody sees my inner strength and my perceptions. I am a strong person. I know this for a fact. Even when I get hit with my depressive episodes or anxiety, I know I can handle it. People tend to underestimate what I can and can’t deal with. It’s rather irritating to be seen as capable in one scenario, but needing to be treated like a child in another. I’ve dealt with a lot of crazy shit on my own, shit that set me down to the depth of my spirit in despair. But guess? I’m still hear, kicking and crawling my way back up every time. The flip to this is that everybody doesn’t see just how much I can doubt myself and how dark my mind get. I can hurt myself like nobody else can. Overcoming that has been part of my journey to hell and back. I have so many self-imposed boundaries that have hindered me. No one has seen just how desperate and dark they’ve made me and they never will. Slowly but surely I’m ripping each of those boundaries apart. Only time will tell what will happen then. 

Leafeon - How am I blossoming and growing? 

I drew Queen of Pentacles Reversed (L) and Nine of Pentacles Reversed (A). Right now, I’m blossoming into someone who is more compassionate, loving, understanding, nurturing, and productive. This period in my life has given me plenty of opportunities to expand on my skills and outlook. The more I experience and come to understand, the more my nurturing side evolves. I’m aligning with the Universe and opening my heart. I’m coming to understand what I’m capable of and how to achieve that. This is a time for me to work hard and push forward, to embrace my prosperity. I must also be careful not to be so preoccupied with my moving forward and avoid the relationships that important to me. Those are just as vital to my life as anything else.

Sylveon - What is my magical talent on Earth?

I drew King of Swords Reversed (L) and The Chariot (A). My magical talent lies in my intellect and drive to succeed. Even if I may not necessarily consider very ambitious, I know what I want and I go after it. I utilize my logic, strength, courage, and wisdom to explore my desires, see what’s feasible, and implement a method to achieve it. I’m in control of myself and my destiny. Sometimes, that also means knowing when to let go. As good as I might be at being rational, I also know that cultivating my intuition is equally important. I’m aware of when and where to use one or the other and when to use both. I’m here to succeed at my mission and use what I learn to advise others. That’s where my truest abilities lie. 

Glaceon - What’s something that I need to ice out of?

I drew Death (L) and Page of Swords (A). Something i need to ice out of is holding onto the past and letting others dictate my path for me. This theme has already come up. I’ve let so many things from the past remain unresolved and as a result, they’ve dragged me down. Finally learning to make peace with them will let me move on. I also feel Death is telling me that, even though I’m experiencing changes, I need to realize i’m not really becoming someone else so much as I’m becoming who I already am. I need to let go of the idea that I’m changing into a radically different person. All the messages I’ve got lately is that everything I need are the things I already have. I’m not being told to do anything but trust in myself and what I can do. I’m not being told I need to become a new me. This message resonates deeply. I already understand so much... I’m just letting insecurities cover that up. The Page is reminding of that along with not letting others hinder me. Spiritually, I’ve been wanting to post more here about my own ideas. However, I see how judgmental people can be, which makes me hesitant to. The Page is telling me to ignore that. I know how I feel and why. I understand my beliefs better than anyone else and they come from a place of deep reflection, research, and intuition. I don’t need to worry about those who might criticize me, but to focus on saying what I need to and knowing who needs to hear it will. 

Espeon - What’s an innate fact of me that my soul knows?

I drew Wheel of Fortune (L) and Ace of Pentacles Reversed (A). An innate fact that I know on a soul level is my ability to take things as they come. Or in other words to go with the flow. Now, this isn’t to say that I just passively accept things as they come. It means that I know how to adapt to the circumstances that have come at me. If there’s one thing I’ve never doubted much about myself, it’s my resiliency. When dealing with things, people have told me how admirable it is that I’m still a loving and strong person despite what I’ve gone through. I kind of shrugged it off, usually because I felt it was nothing special. Others have dealt with far, far worse. It’s just how I am. Nonetheless, it’s something I appreciate. Even in the lowest moments, there is a part of me that knows that it’ll blow over. I’ll get through it, just like everything else. My episode will pass, these horrific memories will pass, the exhaustion and self hate will pass. I know how to adapt and survive no matter what the circumstances are. 

Vaporeon - What is something that is powerfully fluid about me?

I drew Nine of Swords Reversed (L) and Page of Wands (A).  And now we come to the very last set. My mind and energy are incredibly fluid. I’m a naturally anxious person. I have GAD. My mind runs at a mile a minute and it can be a Herculean task to get it to calm. However, it’s something I can work with. Even at my worst, I know how to adapt and still get what I need to get done completed. Whether it be school assignments, basic chores, adventuring, emotional turmoil or whatever, I know how to work with it. The human mind is capable of some incredible and unbelievable things. When I despair, I channel it into my writing, my art, or my musical skills. It’s something I can transform into something positive instead of just letting it eat me alive. My energy is similarly adaptive. I have intense highs and lows, which I work with. Understanding how these aspects of me work allows me to accomplish my dreams. I dash forward in my bursts and fall back in my lows. It’s what keeps me working my way up. 

So those are my eevelutions in full. I had a lot of fun with this! Spreads like this make me want to delve more into pop culture magic, tarot, and self reflection, so thanks to April for creating and sharing this! I’ll have to try my hand at this kind of thing sometime in the future, maybe pretty soon~. 

#underwaterariel #tarot spreads #eveelutions #eveelution tarot #tarot #tarot readings #personal readings #personal growth #eevelution tarot spread #readings

[moonbeambucky]

The Price of Gold (Part 11)

Pairing: Lance Tucker x Reader Word Count: 2979 Warnings: fluff, angst, mention of cancer

Summary: As a sports journalist you’ve traveled the world interviewing famous athletes. You’ve loved your job up until you find out your next article is on the last person in the world you ever wanted to talk to, Lance Tucker.

A/N: This doesn’t follow The Bronze canon though some film details are mixed with real world events. Written for @green-eyeddragonfanfiction Dragon’s 3k Follower Creative Content Challenge. My prompt was “I can’t be in love with you!” gif source (x)

PART 10 | THE PRICE OF GOLD MASTERLIST

Lance was taken aback by the way you grabbed him, you were needy and he wanted to give you everything you wanted to take. His body was buzzing, he felt more alive than when he was at the Olympics. You, his first love, his only love if he was being honest with himself, were back in his arms again. It was like his dream but only better because it was real.

His body jolted when your tongue slipped its way into his mouth and met his own. In that moment Lance, swallowed a moan and stepped back, “I thought we agreed to go slow.”

If it wasn’t for the sweetness laced in his voice you would have felt terribly rejected, but you understood what he was staying, they were your own words. “I know but I missed you.” Your admission fell breathlessly as you stared back at Lance, a smile pulling ever so sweetly on your lips.

Lance stared at your heaving chest, licking his lips and feeling his pants twitch. Thankfully his northern brain took over as he took your hands in his own, placing kisses on both of them, “I’m not going anywhere. Let’s not rush things okay? If whatever we are means you’re back in my life I don’t want to ruin it.”

You nodded knowing he was right and you let him leave after a few more kisses; it was your birthday after all.

Lance picked you up the next morning and you practically bounced into the car, excitedly kissing him hello. On the drive to the gymnastics center you had agreed to keep your “thing” a secret. Parents of potential students would be coming in today thanks to an open house promotion he had posted on social media.

Laura greeted you with a hug that you were expecting and you returning it back with equal enthusiasm. You had a lot to be happy about and frankly your cheeks were aching with the amount of smiling you had done in the last twenty-four hours.

You stood on the sidelines observing Lance and Laura fielding customers that walked in, some alone and some with children. It was mostly women but when a father and his young son came in you didn’t miss the look on Lance’s face. Laura spoke with the man but when Lance overheard the encouraging words he had about his son learning gymnastics Lance asked to take over.

You shadowed him with the pair, walking around the open floor. The boy, Fernando, was holding his father’s hand but was itching to jump onto the mat. Lance bent down to speak with him, promising both Fernando and his father Will that he would teach the boy everything he knows.

You saw the way Lance looked at the pair, wishing his own father was half as encouraging, no– that was a lie, he wished Mitch was encouraging, period. At least society has grown since Mitch Tucker’s days. Will didn’t hesitate to sign up and Fernando was more than excited to begin.

More people had come in and you watched as Lance would thoroughly explain the programs Tucker Gymnastics offered. In between answering questions he would look your way quickly, with his mouth slightly pulling to a smile but he focused back on the customers, sometimes a little too much. It didn’t go unnoticed that he was extra smiley when attractive women came in. You wondered if flirting was a sales tactic.

It made you uneasy and you tried to reason that he was just being nice and wanted their business. Then again his phone was still always going off with text messages. You didn’t like it, knowing that he was still communicating with who knows how many women, but whatever was between you was still new and undefined. It took a lot to remind yourself you are not his girlfriend.

It sure felt like you were though when later that night you were cuddling together on his couch watching a movie. It felt like old times when you were together, having movie marathons and throwing popcorn in each other’s mouths.

Lance was warm and soft, and yet you felt the definition of his toned abs as your arm stretched across his stomach. Occasionally you would look up towards him with the urge to straddle him and bury your face in his neck but you kept yourself in check, stealing kisses instead.

Neither of you realized you had fallen asleep until the morning. You groaned uncomfortably, sitting up and slowly moving your stiff neck around. Yawning as you rubbed your tired eyes you finally opened them, looking around you realized that you weren’t in your hotel room but in Lance’s house. He was beside you leaning against the corner of the couch with one leg on the cushions and the other dangling down.

You got up slowly, tiptoeing to the powder room. After washing your hands you opened the small medicine cabinet, hoping to find some toothpaste or mouthwash but it was empty. You let the water run, cupping your hands underneath the stream to bring to your mouth, swishing it around in the hopes it would wash away some of your morning breath.

Using a tissue you tried to clean up your mascara that had actually stayed put until you unknowingly rubbed the sleep from your eyes– you needed makeup remover. Rolling your neck again you heard things crack, you needed a massage, and with another big yawn you definitely needed coffee.

Settling back on the couch you watched the rise and fall of Lance’s chest as he peacefully, yet uncomfortably slept. The sleeve of his t-shirt bunched up revealing his toned arms and a prominent vein that ran down his bicep, it was mesmerizing. Watching Lance sleep was cute but the day was just beginning and so he needed to wake up.

You whispered his name softly but Lance didn’t stir. Moving closer, you spoke again, your breath falling softly against his skin, “It’s time to wake up Lance.” He took a sharp breath in, peeking one eye open and cracking a smile. “Good morning gorgeous,” he said in a raspy tone.

He pulled you against him, asking how you slept and offering to work out the tightness in your neck after you told him how it felt. “Maybe later,” you winked.

Lance asked if you wanted to take a shower which sounded nice but the prospect of changing back into the clothes you had worn all day yesterday and then fell asleep in was not something you wanted to do. Lance got up and stretched, his t-shirt rising to reveal part of his tan stomach and you couldn’t help but stare.

“Try not to drool on the couch, okay?” he joked, kissing your cheek before going upstairs to shower.

You made coffee for yourself and readied a cup for when Lance was done, scrolling through your phone as you sipped the warm brew to pass the time. You waited about ten minutes after you heard the shower stop before bringing the mug upstairs, knocking on Lance’s bedroom door.

The door opened and Lance stood there shirtless with a pair of sweatpants hanging low on his insanely chiseled hips. Never, ever did you think the skinny boy next door would achieve the cuts on his body that would melt you down like ice cream in the sun.

He turned to grab the coffee and your eyes were drawn lower to the large chunk of his infamous tattoo sticking out just below his navel. The thought of his “gold” made you giggle and yet you couldn’t take your eyes off of him.

Lance thanked you for the coffee, or at least you think he did, you were too busy licking your lips at the sight of him to have acknowledged any other senses. You let him finish dressing alone, knowing neither of you would have made it to the center otherwise.

Heading back to your hotel first Lance sat on your bed as you took a shower, only washing your body quickly as time seemed to get away from you earlier. Makeup was minimal, your hair was not looking its best but it’s nothing a little product couldn’t fix. The bathroom was small and fogged up and you did your own gymnastics to change into clean clothes without stepping on the wet towels. Opening the door you collided with Lance’s hard body.

“They did it!” He was smiling proudly and your confused face searched his for more answers. “The committee, I’m back!”

You threw your arms around Lance congratulating him with a hug. He wrapped his arms around your waist, lifting you up and spinning around. When he stopped it felt like everything around him stopped as well. Sunlight from the balcony was shining on your face, its soft glow highlighting the beautiful color of your eyes, sparkling with happiness, to your smile, wide and proud. You were proud of him and he was elated. For the first time in a long time Lance was truly happy.

Lance kissed you, tasting the sweetness of your lips, the mint mouthwash that lingered on your tongue. He deepened the kiss, swallowing every moan and whimper he pulled from you. Letting you down softly he held you against his body, not wanting to let go of this moment.

His phone began to buzz again and you moved to grab your heels. An announcement from USA Gymnastics was released and Lance’s Twitter had begun to blow up again from fans congratulating him to his former teammates and students praising the appeal.

Lance was all smiles as he drove to the center and you were slightly hesitant but had to ask if you could get a quote from him to write something quick for ESPN. The Associated Press had already retweeted the press release and Lance begun making arrangements with the local news but it would mean a lot to you (and your editor) if you could be the first to publish with a direct quote.

Lance had agreed and after arriving at the center and being nearly tackled to the ground by Laura’s enthusiastic hug you and Lance went to his office where you pulled out your laptop. You already knew what this appeal meant, the bigger story behind it; Lance wanted to make his mom proud again. Not that he ever lost it, Dorothy was always proud of her son, but he felt he wasn’t deserving of it after his win turned him into a Grade A Asshole™. You wanted to save that story for your main article so instead you asked about the future.

The appeal meant Lance was reinstated as an official USA Gymnastics accredited coach which was excellent news for Tucker Gymnastics but what about Lance?

Reinstated gymnast Tucker claims “I would love to coach the National Team!”

That was the headline for your article and yes it was 100% click bait but that’s how the news is today you carelessly shrugged. When you asked about the future Lance did say if given the opportunity he would love to coach the National Team again but for now he’s staying put, more than happy to be where he is provided the building blocks to future gymnasts right here in Spring Hill.

More customers entered the gym thanks to the buzz and Lance told you a local news crew was on their way. You quickly reviewed your article and sent it off to Sue, leaving a message on her voicemail as well to let her know the urgency.

Cameras were there to capture Lance talking about how thankful he was to be reinstated. You smiled with adoration as you watched him answer the reporters as you kept your distance off to the side. Apparently you were not far enough as you thought, finding out when your mom called you.

“Honey did I just see you on TV with Lance Tucker?”

Oh boy. “Wait, you’re back?” you said, ignoring her question.

“Yes we got in this morning and as I was loading the washing machine I heard the report and then there you were! Lance is your assignment… is that why you didn’t tell me?” she asked, knowing the answer already.

You hummed your answer, worried she might be upset with you for holding back but instead she asked how you were.

“Good actually, better than expected,” you paused to take a deep breath before hesitantly admitting, “We worked things out actually.” You heard her worried exhale through the phone. “Mom it’s okay, he apologized, I apologized. We’ve moved on, we’re adults now.”

“Just be careful sweetheart,” she said.

You changed the subject asking about their cruise to which she replied she would tell you another time. She wanted to unpack and go through the mail first before she could relax.

“Oh, before I go I almost forgot, I got a message from Dorothy… no wonder,” she mused. “I’m so sorry to hear about that. When I called her back the nurse said they were leaving for the hospital.”

“What? When?” you panicked.

“About an hour ago.”

You hung up quickly, running to find Lance who was in the middle of an interview. Apologizing to the reporter you interrupted, pulling him aside and whispering for him to check his phone. There were four missed calls from Nadia along with a text, leaving details of the hospital they were going to.

Doing his best to keep a neutral face Lance apologized to the reporter for having to end their interview so abruptly. His jaw was tense but he was doing everything he could to keep his emotions together, his mother’s health and privacy were no one’s business.

Lance sped away towards the hospital with you, his hand laced with yours as you gave him comforting squeezes until you arrived. Dorothy was in the emergency room with Nadia patting her forehead with a damp paper towel. Lance rushed to her side, grabbing his mother’s hand and kissing it as he tried to get her attention.

Dorothy was delirious and slightly dehydrated so she was hooked up to an I.V. for fluids. The small room was cramped with the three of you surrounding the bed so Nadia left to tell the nurse’s desk that Dorothy’s son had arrived. Lance sat in a chair, still holding Dorothy’s hand and you stood behind him, hoping you were comforting him as you rubbed his shoulders.

“It’ll be okay,” you said, knowing full well you had no idea if it would but you hoped so.

With tears in his eyes Lance replied, “What if it’s not? What if this is it?”

He choked on his words as his hand sought yours on his shoulder. As the machines beeped steadily silence hung uncomfortably thick in the air.

Waiting was the worst. Nurses had come in sporadically to check Dorothy’s vitals. Nadia had left to bring back snacks and drinks. Lance wasn’t hungry, his stomach was twisted into knots as he watched his mom, but you insisted he at least have a sports drink; there was no need to have him get sick on top of this.

A doctor finally came in to say he wanted Dorothy to be admitted upstairs. Another hour had passed by without anyone coming to transport her so Lance decided both of you should leave. “Nadia do you mind driving Y/N back to her hotel?”

“I can stay, I don’t mind,” you said.

“I know but you shouldn’t have to. It’s gonna be a while to get her up there. Plus I want to speak with whatever doctor will be in charge.”

His eyes pleaded for you to go. This was his burden he felt and even though you wanted to stay he would prefer you didn’t.

“Keep me posted, please,” you asked.

You rubbed Dorothy’s hand, saying goodbye to her though you weren’t sure if she could hear you or not. You hugged Lance, pecking him quickly on the lips before leaving.

You were worried sick the rest of the day, checking your phone constantly for updates. After getting out of the shower you saw Lance had texted back, Dorothy was in a room, was given a second bag of fluids and Lance was still waiting to speak to the doctor.

Your stomach grumbled, loudly yelling at you since you hadn’t eaten any real food in a while. You threw on clothes and went two blocks down to Hooter’s, the closest restaurant within walking distance. Sitting at the bar you ordered a beer and wings. Watching the Yankee game you were reminded about confirming your schedule with Aaron Judge’s agent. It suddenly hit you that this– being in Spring Hill, being with Lance Tucker, this was temporary. Your job was travelling but your home was New York, right?

Taking another swig from the bottle you tried to avoid having an existential crisis in the middle of the restaurant. This was a conversation for another time and right now Dorothy’s health was more important. Lance hadn’t texted in a while and you hoped no news was good news.

With a full belly you enjoyed the cool night’s air on the walk back to the hotel. Changing into a tank top and your favorite pineapple print pajama bottoms you couldn’t stay focused between flipping through the limited channels on the TV or mindlessly scrolling through your phone so you forced yourself to go to sleep, hoping that rest would help calm your mind.

Your phone woke you up and you saw Lance’s name, swiping quickly to answer his call. His voice was shaky as he asked if he could see you. Apparently he was in the parking lot and in no time was at your door. His eyes were bloodshot, his nose red and sniffling and you opened your arms to him immediately.

PART 12

#dragon’s3k3c #lance tucker x reader #lance tucker fanfiction #lance tucker x you #lance tucker fanfic #lance x reader #lance x you

[xyfanficarchive]

Squish

Pairing: DBH Ralph x Female Reader

Warnings: Absurdly long exposition for a tiddy squish fic

Summary: The reader and her boyfriend settle in for a calm night of cuddling and Ralph gets exploratory with his hands.

Word Count: 1699

Author’s Note: I did not in any way intend for this to be as lOng as it is. But uhhhh part 3 of Firelight is coming a little slow so have this thing ive had in my head for a while!!! anyways i headcanon ralph is a stimmy man and he would totally love to squish his partners tiddies just to feel em man

Moments of pure calm like these were rare, to say the least, when it came to living with Ralph. He was a person of extremes, emotions always dialed up to 100, always easily excited by small things. Even in his more tranquil moments he was generally fidgety, always doing something with his hands, and perpetually ticcing, not that you ever minded his twitches. Not that you ever minded him as he was, exuding that kind of constant energy, but you were only human and sometimes you ran out of steam. Sometimes you just couldn’t keep up with him any longer, and you two just took a moment to try and take it easy.

The day was drawing to its close. The sun hung low in the late afternoon sky, casting lovely reds and yellows and violets above the tops of the buildings you could see from your bedroom window. The lights were dim, with only a single lamp and various candles lit on surfaces to create a soft atmosphere. You were sat up against the headboard of your bed, a throw blanket wrapped loosely around your shoulders as you waited for your love to return to the room so you could curl up next to him and retire for the night.

You looked up from the tablet you were occupying yourself with to admire the many lush, thriving potted plants that adorned your room on every surface – the window sills, the TV stand, your dresser, and every side table had green. It wasn’t uncommon for people to have house plants but you wondered how many other people lived in a virtual greenhouse like you did; all of it a product of Ralph’s little hobby (or obsession) that had creeped into every corner of your small apartment, making the whole place feel alive and the air smell cleaner than you could have imagined before he came into your life. You never were particularly bad at taking care of plants, but you couldn’t imagine not being overwhelmed at the prospect of taking care of so many all on your own, whereas Ralph handled it like a professional (likely for the fact that he literally was a professional at taking care of plants).

You had just turned your gaze back down to your tablet when you heard the door open, and Ralph stepped in, clad in a grey crewneck sweater and black sweatpants, holding a steaming mug gently with both hands and closing the door behind him with his foot. A smile crept onto your face.

“Ralph made Y/N tea! He thinks he did it right… He hopes he did it right.” He walked over to you looking expectant as he handed the mug to you.

“Oh, I’m sure it’ll be fine,” you say as you raise the mug tentatively to your lips, taking a small sip. As it’s still piping hot, you make a face, before setting it on the table beside you. You look back up to see him staring back down at you with his eyebrows drawn slightly and you add: “It’s fine. It’s just hot.” He seems satisfied and you lean up, placing a hand on the side of his face (the left side, always the left side unprompted), guiding him down so you can place a chaste kiss to his lips. When you pull away, he’s smiling a smile that reaches the corners of his eyes and you want nothing more than to draw this moment out forever so you can just admire his beauty.

Because god was he beautiful. Soft blonde hair combed to the side, you followed the curve of his pink lips with your eyes before meeting his gaze, one eye hazel and one turned black and blue but both seeming to shine with pure love for you. His scars, of course, were more than just noticeable, but you had seen the faces of uninjured WR600s before and it made you wonder if anything on this earth could mar the attractiveness of that face. Your heart felt full, and you took his hands in yours as he lifted a leg up, opting to climb over you to reach the other side of the bed rather than walk around. He flopped down beside you and you turned over to face him better.

That smile was still gracing his lips. You brought your hand out to tenderly stroke his face, before carding your fingers through his hair. He let out a soft hum of satisfaction and you took his hand, the one stripped bare of artificial skin, to press kisses to all of his fingers.

You reach over to take the mug of tea in your hands and sip from it slowly as you two just sit in silence, staring at each other. Eventually, Ralph speaks up: “Y/N should lay down next to Ralph,” and at that you smile and nod, taking one last sip before returning the half-finished mug to the side table and sliding down so that you were laying prone, facing Ralph on the bed.

“No! No! Turn over, turn over! Ralph wants to be the big spoon!” He said impatiently.

“Okay, jeez! Alright!” You say in mock offense as you turn over and sidle up close to his body, your back pressed flush to his chest, bending your knees to accommodate his slightly curled up position as he slips and arm underneath you and wraps the other around you.

You felt him press fleeting kisses to the back of your neck while he clasped his hands in front of your stomach, and you brought your hand up to lovingly stroke the length of his arm, the other finding its place supporting your head between the pillow and the bed. Ralph tended, sometimes, to babble sweet nothings at you in these quiet, intimate moments, and that was what he was doing – you felt him mumbling his stream of consciousness softly into your hair, maybe not entirely intelligible at times, but it made you feel warm and loved all the same.

That was it. Time flowed just as thick and sweet and slow as dripping honey in that moment, cozy in the embrace of your lover. You tried to remain awake, you wanted to be conscious to experience this little occasion, but eventually, as all things fall to entropy, your concentration fell apart and you found yourself slowly drifting off.

That is, until you felt a pair of hands drift up your shirt. It stirred you from your half-asleep state, interrupting your hypnagogic visions, and when you felt Ralph’s hands creep up to cup your bare breasts, your face drew up in confusion. Was he trying to initiate something? You took a moment in your hazy state of mind to determine that, no you weren’t really in the mood to have sex right now, but you opted to question him rather than turn him down outright.

“What’re you doing Ralph?” you asked, voice still hoarse with sleep.

“O-oh… Ralph, he…” he hesitates for a moment, “he wants to squish. Is that 0kay?” Your eyebrows drew together even more. He wants to squish?? What the hell?

“What?” you question him further, a slight chuckle in your voice.

“Can he squish?” he asks and, as if to demonstrate what he means, squeezes your breasts gently with his hands once before simply resting his palms on them again.

You’re a little bewildered. What a weirdo! But as confused as you are, you’re also intrigued, and if anything a little flattered that at least he would ask your permission before moving forward. Hell with it, you think, and you stutter out an okay with another laugh on your lips.

And… the situation is pointedly non-sexual. Ralph proceeds to simply… feel you, as a sensory experience more than anything, rhythmically contracting his fingers and pressing his palms into your chest just to feel the movement of the flesh around his digits.

“Why?” you ask softly, after a little while.

“Soft,” is his one-word answer. You smile. He’s… adorable.

His touch is gentle. He never hurts you, even for such a sensitive area, and the feeling of his hands around your breasts becomes almost calming in a way, and you can feel sleep beckoning to you once again. You would have drifted had you not heard, just barely audible against your neck…

“Squish.”

He squeezes.

“Squish.”

He squeezes.

“Squish.”

He squeezes.

“Squish.”

He squeezes.

You’re glad he can’t see your face in this moment. Your cheeks begin to heat up, and you have to purse your lips, drawing them into a tight line to prevent yourself from letting a giggle escape. You don’t want to spook him and embarrass him in this moment, which would undoubtedly make him stop immediately. But you really can’t believe your ears. He’s almost childlike in this little exploration of your body and you can feel the love and laughter rise up in your belly. In an effort to contain it one last time, your hand snaps up to cover your mouth, but this catches his attention.

“Heh?” is the little questioning noise that escapes his lips as he halts his hands, and you really just can’t help yourself anymore as you let loose all the giggles you’d been stifling. He draws away from you, and you turn around (still laughing) to see him holding his hands close to his body, wringing them together and avoiding your eyes, an expression of embarrassment on his face as his cheeks start to take on an azure hue.

“Noooo! Ralph!” You exclaim, still smiling, at the pitiful look on his face. You didn’t want to make him feel bad! You push yourself up on your elbows and reach your hand over to cup his cheek. He turns his face to look you in the eyes and you tilt your head.

“God, you’re so weird sometimes…” you chuckle, and his face sours just a little bit more. “But… You’re so cute, Ralph,” you hesitate just for a moment, looking deep into his lovely eyes. “And I love you so, so much.”

His face softens at that, and you lean over to press a kiss to his lips that lingers.

#dbh x reader #detroit become human x reader #dbh ralph x reader #dbh #dbh ralph #x.writing #so apparently i dont knwow whatthe fuck happened but firelight opened the writing faucet #in my brain in a way that its NEVER been opened in my whole life