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itsgodepi · 24 days

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If I lose my mind | Ch. 9

Series summary: When life has given you more than enough lemons and you cannot figure out how to make a lemonade, the only way to make it work is to get rid of the whole basket. But was it neccesary to send you to a whole different dimension for that? A juicer would have done the job, really. Or, one day you go to sleep as a normal person and the next you wake up as a Formula One driver. You've never been a fan but isn't it like, one of the most exclusive sports? Pairing: CL16, LH44, CS55, DR3 x fem!reader Chapter: Previous | Next Word Count: 2.7k Also on AO3

You recognize his laugh now. Not the one recorded by the nosy photographers or the overstepping interviewers, but the real one. The way he leans his head to the side and his eyes turn into beautiful crescent moons. Those low chuckles as well, so carefree and sweet, resounding in your head and bringing you back to the hundreds of videos saved in your camera roll, the ones you have been watching for nights on end since you found that phone.

It is difficult to decipher if the goosebumps raising in your skin come from the happiness the mere sound induces inside you, or the fear of realizing how deep you have been dragged into this nightmare.

After landing in Belgium, Daniel’s first instinct had been to send you a message, an invite out for dinner which he admitted was long overdue. Two months had already gone by since you fainted in Austria —or better said, the day you woke up surrounded by a whole Formula 1 team in an unknow place—, two months since he fought with Nick in the middle of the track and promised to ‘talk later’. Two months.

Safe to say you were surprised enough to ignore the hundreds of messages higher on the chat. It’s better to take in this kind of news one by one.

“My friend said the steak tartare was amazing, you should have a look at it” Daniel offers when you lower your eyes to the menu, skimming over the dishes as if that could help you ignore the tingling on your stomach

Pursing your lips, you finally focus your gaze on the words written before you. “I don’t know if…” you begin to show your doubts about the raw dish, trying to locate it on the menu among the rest of unrecognizable food names.

Daniel can see the exact second you find it.

“Don’t you dare look at the price,” the driver threatens when your eyes widen at the quantity, eyebrows furrowed as you wonder if the meat is wrapped in gold or something “You’re not paying again, I’m telling you!”

“What do you mean again?” you ask through a chuckle, scanning the rest of the menu for a more reasonable option. After all, it is always Daniel who passes you gummies and other unhealthy treats under Nick’s nose when you are on the track, and not the other way around. It would have been impossible anyway, it’s only recently that you have acquired some form of payment.

Daniel calls for the waiter after a shake of his head, a smirk falling of his lips “Yeah, sure, I’ll let you play dumb now... gave them my card already, so no use in sneaking to the bathroom and paying behind my back”

To be fair, although you doubt you could have invited Daniel to more than a sip of coffee in the short time you’ve know him —you absolutely do not have the kind of money needed to invite a Formula One driver out, that’s become obvious, those kinds of antics do ring a bell or two.

After all, you may have picked them up from the best at that type of tricks: your father.

On your time away from home, you have found yourself holding onto the little pieces of your family which have so easily become a part of your personality over the years. Your father’s silent gestures of love, your mother’s caring nature, and honestly, being unable to talk to them had taken a toll on you. Probably, that is why you had melt into a poodle of tears when you heard your dad’s voice on the phone.

“¿A ti te parece normal estar dos meses sin llamar a tus padres? (Does it seem normal to you to go two months without calling your parents?) "

Even hearing his scoldings felt like the most precious moment of your life.

Charles had come crashing into the room as soon as he heard your cries, kneeling beside you on the floor thinking you might have hurt yourself with how fast you had run away to your room. His concerned look rapidly turning into one of confusion when you firmly held his hand and whispered between sobs “It’s my dad!”

The discovery of this new device had not only opened a channel of communication with your family, which had both been a blessing and a curse, but also brough an infinity of unanswered questions. Although the first few minutes of your conversation had been centered around your mother’s question about your wellbeing and if you had been eating well, it had not taken long until that precious moment was broken. After checking that you had been doing alright and apologizing for not talking to them, your father could not hold it any longer and started gushing about the amazing few races you had had before the break.

A reality check so sudden that it takes your breath away.

Their happiness and eagerness to congratulate you on the highest place of your career, managed to sober you up completely. You heart sinking with every compliment they threw at you, their desire to see you climb up in the sport, to see you win one day. “It will come” your mother says, as if any of this was real. As if they were real.

When you finally found your voice again, you had cut the conversation short with promises to call them soon —even if the mere thought of it made you nauseous.

This encounter only renewed your desire to break free from what had become you own personal prison, and that device was a new key for your escape. While the phone you had been carrying since the start of this journey only had a couple numbers from the team members saved on it, this one was filled to the brim with messages, photos,... a whole life encased in such a small object. Your life?

And somehow a main character in a large part of them was the man in front of you.

“You sure you don’t want to taste it?” Daniel queries with a half-smile, having clearly caught the way your eyes followed the delicious looking cake as the waiter placed it on the table

The colors rise to your cheeks in shyness, looking to the side while you jokingly sigh “Daniel, I won’t fit in the car if I keep eating...”

“You’ll drive mine then” he quickly resolves, taking a huge piece of the treat and offering the spoon to you. Honestly, you had swapped the list of amazingly sounding desserts for a simple tea because you felt too full to even think of eating anything else, but a spoonful of cake can’t hurt, right? “Have to wear the McLaren suit though”

Although you do it unconsciously, the look you give Daniel over the mouthful of cake, tells him everything he needs to know regarding your opinion on the bright orange race suit. The driver lets out a loud laugh, putting on his disbelieving facade as if that hadn’t been his intention in the first place.

“So nice hearing you criticize my team’s color, really, I don’t know why we stopped having lunch together. Yeah, not a clue...” Daniel scoffs, digging into his plate to drown his fabricated sorrows. So dramatic.

“I didn’t even talk!” you quip back to his amusement, just now having managed to get through the enormous bite of cake. Daniel only response is a disapproving shake of his head, and you let him have this one as you stir your tea. You are more interested in the second part of his grumbles “Why did we stop though?”

“Don’t know... I guess with the whole start of the season, new team and everything” Daniel relays with a frown, gesturing to the air as if to explain that life had gotten in between what seemed to be a tradition the two of you had. “And also, that fucking diet...” the driver snickers with a roll of his eyes, having thrown that last jab as joke to lighten up the mood after such serious turn of the conversation.

However, a soon as your eyes meet, he knows it’s been a misstep —even if it is just a coincidence that what he thinks is your how dare you say that? look is more of a what diet are you talking about? Look.

“Sorry, ‘shouldn't have said that” Daniel apologizes straight away, leaning back into his seat with a sigh and the last piece of the cake. The time it takes him to munch on the treat is enough for him to debate whether or not he should make his opinion on such an important cmatter. Finally, he opts for a more conservative approach “It’s just... you already know what I think about it. Nick too”

The mention of your Formula One trainer’s name makes all the alarms go off in your head, more so when the last time you saw them together, they were having a pretty heated conversation in the middle of a Grand Prix “Is that why you fought with Nick?”

You try to appear outwardly calm about the situation, swirling what’s left of your tea as if your hands weren’t trembling in anticipation. This is it, at last, some real information. Not some meaningless clues which do nothing but mess with your poorly constructed theories.

Your grandmother’s necklace burns against your chest, the feeling grounding you against all the thoughts brimming on your head. After all, the piece of jewelry is still the only fragment of an ever-distant reality, one you have kept safe and close to your heart ever since you found. You rest your hand over the pendant, sensing the heat even through the fabric of your blouse, as you wait for the response.

He brushes a hand over his curls, looking everywhere but at you. “Yeah, kind of... I mean,” he accepts, clicking his tongue and taking in a big breath, as if he couldn’t bring himself to say it plain and clear. Daniel takes a second to reorganize his thoughts, straightening up in his chair and leaning his arms over the table in deep thought. However, when you think he’s managed to make up his mind and talk, the only words that come out his lips are “Look, we shouldn't talk about this now”

A frown instantly forms on your expression at the premise, jaw set as you prepare yourself to most likely yell at Daniel everything that’s been on your mind thorough your time trapped here —whatever here means. You were finally going to clear one of the millions of unknowns surrounding this dream or whatever this is, and the man has the audacity to want to leave this incredibly important conversation for later. Oh, hell no.

“No, listen” Daniel tries to settle your worries, having perfectly recognized the signs of what was about to come for him, from the slight closing of you hand over the table to the uncredulous grin lightly lifting the side of your lips “We’ll talk in the ride back to the track. C’mon, I’ll drive you”

The soft sound of the radio fills the silence on the way out of the parking, a ballad which does absolutely not fit the speed at what your mind is running. Daniel can probably feel the weight of your stare, trying to let him have some space since it seems to be a sensitive topic for him, but so eager to learn what transpired between the two of them.

The driver decides to preface his explanation with a “Don't get mad at me, okay?”, a strained smile pulling at his lips. For starters, that sentence does sound familiar. “I know I should stay out of it, and I think... well, no, I know! I know you’ve been really stressed out lately, that everything’s different now and all of that. I mean, they won't shut up about the fucking ‘second year in F1’ or whatever”

Daniel tries to check your reaction out of the corner of his eye, his thoughts, although disorganized, always careful of your feelings. Yet, you can only regard him with a confused look.

“What I’m trying to say is... I think you’ve been pushing yourself too hard” the driver lets out, the words flowing out of him like they have been weighting him for too long. His urge to explain his intentions straight away, showing how much of a push back he was expecting from your part "Again, I’m not trying to start an argument, I’m just worried about you! I’ve seen you training, seen that diet... this is not good for you”

You’ve kept your eyes in the road in front thorough the conversation, taking in how concerned he has been about you. You had never seen this side of Daniel, he has always seen friendly and eager to help whenever you needed, but nothing had ever seen this deep. Still, you don’t understand what any of this has to do with his fight with Nick.

“I understand that...” you acknowledge his worries, making a mental note to check everything he said later. In the time you had spent following this professional motorsport driver schedule, none of it had seemed as harsh to you as he had mentioned. Maybe something changed? Why though? “So, Nick and you talked about that? Is that it?”

“Well, yes, Nick and I kind of had a... disagreement, yeah, we can call it that. About this new training plan you had going on. We had already talked about it like, back in Canada, and obviously nothing came out of it. But after Austria...” Daniel lets a second go while he enters the road, a harder grip on the steering wheel than needed. “Listen, I know we haven’t talked about it at all, I don’t know if you and Nick did?”

You almost want to laugh at the supposition, your trainer had shut down any attempts of talking about it the day after the incident, so you had eventually given up “No, nothing”

“I didn’t want to pressure you into talking about it but... We got really scared that day. I went to celebrate your qualy and, suddenly, you started panicking and freaking out! I didn’t know what to do, and then you fell unconscious. Do you remember any of it?” the driver wonders, his voice showcasing the whirlwind of emotions he went through despite the fact that he might be giving you a diluted version of what went down. You can only nod at him, the memories fresh on your mind “When they took you to the hospital, I thought, they for sure won’t let her race tomorrow, right? And then I see you on the track, all dressed up again, I couldn’t believe it...”

“Didn’t Nick say he sent you a text?” you try to fill in, fingers fiddling with your own phone. Two months might have passed, but the images of that day keep replaying in your mind every single night.

Daniel clicks his tongue in disbelief, eyes still focused on the road “Yes, he sent me two fucking lines saying the doctor discharged you, that you were fine and that’s literally it. You can take my phone and see it for yourself! I kept blowing up his phone but that’s the only thing he would say: exhaustion, she’s alright”

That would explain the way Daniel approached you in Austria, how furious he had been with Nick after the secrecy with which the incident had been treated. The first thing he asked you that day was if you were alright, after the pre-race activities had finished and as away from the public as he could knowing you were in the middle of a Grand Prix. That is why he pounced at Nick when he mentioned the exhaustion diagnosis, fed up with the discourse. The distrust he had in your trainer’s statement clear in his words.

Yet another thread to be pulled.

Author's note: Hey, I hope you all enjoyed this chapter. It's been a while! My masters is clearly kicking my ass and I didn't have a single second to write, but here it is. Thank you all so much for reading, any kind of interaction is greatly appreciated!

Taglist: @purplephantomwolf @raye2000 @yuiiimd @drezzerk33 @leclercdream @homie0sapien @minkyungseokie @carlossainzwho @rewmuslupin @kyuupidwrites @raevyng @lazybot @gills-lounge @hiraethrhapsody @jjkclub @darleneslane @therealcap @aespie

#daniel ricciardo x reader #carlos sainz x reader #charles leclerc x reader #lewis hamilton x reader #f1 x reader #f1 fic #f1 x you #formula one x reader #formula one x you #f1 imagine

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fiend-shaped · 2 months

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Teens sleep headcanons

Can you tell what im supposed to be doing rn lol

Taylor:

-Taylor has to build himself an exosuit of pillows in order to be comfortable (hence the exorbitant number of bodypillows)

-he has a large bed but always presses himself into the corner

-falls asleep very easily even when he's trying to stay awake

-one christmas morning when he was 8 Cassandra found him asleep in the living room with a sword

-when she woke him he cried because he'd missed his chance to challange santa to single combat and would have to wait another year to try again

-morning person, somehow in a non-obnoxious way

Normal:

-Normal always kicks off his blanket

-he moves around a lot and has fallen off of his bed on more than one occasion

-when he was 10 he begged his parents to let him have a bunk bed but they were justifiably worried he'd hurt himself

-he always has trouble falling asleep but once he's out it's very hard to wake him

-he tried using an alarm for a while but it didn't matter how loud or long it was, he always slept through it

-usually Hero has to wake him and more often than not she just drops a cold washcloth on his face

-pretends very hard to be a morning person

Scary:

-Scary tried to make herself sleep in a coffin pose but it didn't work

-She sleeps with socks on

-one time she had a dream where Terry Junior had been her dad since she was born

-after that she didn't really talk to him for about 2 days

-when she was younger (before tj) she always made sure to arrange her stuffed animals so that they would all be equally close because she didn't want any of them to feel left out

-is genuinely not a morning person but also plays it up quite a bit

Lincoln:

-Lincoln has to be against a wall or he has a hard time sleeping

-he keeps his windows wide open, even when it's cold outside

-no problem falling asleep but usually wakes up multiple times a night

-is extremely comitted to making the football asmr thing work (at this point it kinda does but for the first few months it kept him awake and he just really didn't wanna admit it)

-is basically a morning person but not used to waking up for school yet

Bonus:

-Hermie has insomnia

-when he can't sleep he lies in the dark and 'runs lines'

-sometimes it's movies or plays he likes, sometimes it's rehearsed conversations and monologues

-when he can't remember a line (or hasn't thought of it yet in the conversation/monologue case) he repeats the last thing he said over and over until he figures out what comes next

-as part of his deep cover operation to steal the mascot costume he conviced his parents that he'd started taking a special morning class at chaparral. He needed to do this because his father always dropped him off on the way to work and he needed enough time to take the bus over to san dimas high in time for actual school to start. (Yes, this means that he hasn't been attending high school for the better part of a year and that his parents have somehow not noticed this)

-has to get up so so early for this stupid fucking scheme why is he doing this to himself i don't even care about chaparral high (internal monologue of the unfortunate compulsive scammer)

-tries (read: fails) not to nap throughout the day in hopes it'll fix his sleep schedule

#I know the hermie running lines thing is on the nose #But it is also literally something that i a real flesh boy do in real flesh life so im giving myself a pass #This is entirly vibes based no research so if it contradicts anything in canon no it doesn't #dndads #dndads season 2 #dungeons and daddies #taylor swift (not that one)#normal oak #scary marlowe #lincoln li wilson #hermie the unworthy #hermie unworthy

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mylittlegemlins · 2 months

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Spy x family hurt/comfort ideas for destroy your soul:

-loid and yor are expecting a child, anya is jealous that they don't love her as much as their own child.

-Loid, speaking seriously with Sylvia: " fuck it, I'm going to keep them and if you want me to continue being your star spy, you're going to give me missions that don't involve falling in love with women or adopting children, one is enough for me. "

-Loid thinks about the joy his wife and daughter bring him: God, when was the last time I did something just for… fun? Why I didn't do it befo-... oh right... This is a mission

-Loid wonders how Yor had never dated anyone until she was 27, then Yor interprets something very literal and Loid thinks, oh that's why.

-Since Loid saw that Anya had too much stress after the sandbox test, he is very worried about her mental health. Anya stares into space because she's busy thinking about what he thought. But he thinks that the poor girl she is dissociating due to a trauma and he tries to repair her with kisses and hugs.

-The mission ends on the night of a full moon, so Anya has no idea if her father plans to get rid of them, or how, or when, she just stays close to her parents for as long as she can.

-Yor begins to question if she is going to be married to Loid until death do them part, since she barely knows Loid... Well, she knows him a little... For a year... But she is not sure of her feelings for him.

- -Loid finally decides to take Anya to the doctor because bleeding from the nose every time you get overwhelmed by loud noises might not be normal. Anya is just terrified that the doctors will open her brain and see that she has her powers, somehow. he also discovers that she is very low in weight and height for her age and worries even more.

-you love me? Direct question to destroy the heart of the best spy in the country, especially if it comes from a child, especially if it comes from an orphan, especially if it comes from his daughter who has never lived more than 4 months with an adoptive family because they did not get attached to her. Answer honestly, she will know if you lie.

-The Strix mission ended. Loid abandons Anya and breaks up with Yor without much explanation. only to regret it 15 minutes later and run to find them.

-Anya obtains 7 tonitrus having already 7 stellas. And she knows that expulsion is closer than the prize. So she runs away from home.

- Anya is finally ready to tell Loid a little about her birth mother and the orphanage, and it hurts.

-Anya never had a birthday party because there was no budget at the orphanage. Loid is able to hiring even the boys who cry if that makes his daughter happy

-Yor is hospitalized due to a fight and telling your husband that you have appendicitis is easier than explaining to him that some criminals shot you 3 times in the hip and who the hell you're still alive.

-Bond has to bite one Forger to save them from some imminent danger he predicted but the rest of the family panics and gets very angry with Bond.

-"If you keep getting close to dangerous guys you are going to get really hurt one day." Ergo, Anya gets hurt.

-Did you know that adoptable children in real life know that their chances of being adopted go down as they grow older because most only adopt babies? Anya knows it.

-Loid and Yor have no choice but to sleep together because their daughter is terribly ill in the hospital and her last wish is to sleep with them together. Or she actually has a common cold and they took her to the emergency room because they panicked when her fever went up 0.1 degrees.

- Damian wants to hang out with Anya but he would never let Emilie and Ewen find out.

-Loid comforting Anya during an anxiety attack because he thinks it's because of her past and only he knows.

-Instead of directly saying that he wants to keep his family or give up being a spy, he begins by extending the mission for 4 more months, and then another 4 more. And when he realizes 4 years have passed.

-Yor asks Loid about his dead ex-wife because they will never go to leave her flowers or he doesn't have old photos of her and baby Anya. Loid has many photos to fake.

T/W torture

-Anya biological father is a voluteer or one of the scientist because she was made by artificial insemination so that she was born, Anya's mother was kidnapped from a rural town where her language was almost extinct.

-The scientists remove Anya's mother's tongue so that she cannot communicate with her other than through her telepathy.

-The scientists being really mad the first time that her powers didn't work during the full moon.

-Still has nightmares about the electroshock in the laboratory every time she failed the tests. Her parents try to console her but she can't tell them anything, even if she wants. still hurts.

#spy x family #anya forger #sxf #spy x family headcanons #spyxfamily #loid forger #spy x family anya #yor forger

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angel4astraea · 10 months

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strong believer that dottore has an opposite partner. . . but realistic version !

♡ to be honest, i don't think he'd purposefully look for someone who was different. he's a literal criminal who does vile things to other human beings

♡ everything in his personal life (if he has one) is locked up tight within his own confines of his chest. he's cold but logical, meaning that brain comes over heart. .

♡ with a person who is the complete opposite, things such as personality, style, habits, thinking, etc, he'd be so irritated at first lol. as he got used to your antics, maybe he'd find them somewhat amusing. . especially if you're working under him or beside him.

♡ if you were expecting an epic romance falling, you are sorely wrong. it takes so much to even have someone be in the same space as him when he's working. he's a high and mighty harbinger, he thinks that weaknesses (human emotions) would hinder the fatui's business.

♡ but if you do crack his first shell, you'll definitely know. he'll have you write notes while he speaks aloud when experimenting. . which is huge.

♡ as soon as you do make progress, he'll probably try to push you away. it's probably involuntary as he does it with everyone and thing. if you stay, his confidence with you rises steadily. anything that seems shaky will hinder the progress.

♡ when it gets to the point where he acknowledges something is going on, he talks with you directly. he's blunt with his thoughts and feelings, telling the truth instead of hiding it beneath tricks and tribulations. when that's over with, he'll let you make a decision over a couple days as he also needs to understand the gravity of what might happen to you if he doesn't succeed with his work and goals. pierro could use that against him as blackmail and he couldn't afford to be put down.

♡ when you two do eventually start dating, dates are meticulously planned between his trips and work. he tries his best and sometimes it isn't perfect like he anticipated. even though things can fall through, he still makes sure to make you feel appreciated and loved.

♡ if he's in sumeru, he's definitely cautious when you ask to come along. but that's the time he literally took two gnosis' from nahida so he declined that round. however, he does take you under disguise once.

♡ i believe that the whole "future" talk wouldn't come up until you two are trench deep into the relationship. i'm thinking six months? eitherway, he's clear on his wishes but is willing to hear you out; he doesn't want kids but he would like to marry you. the whole murderous father thing doesn't stick well with him. . you can't blame him.

♡ if you do want kids, he won't shut you down. i mean, he could literally make a child for you and him via his vast knowledge and DNA. that's if you couldn't carry one at the very least. he'll compromise with you about kids, the cutoff is two.

♡ strong believer in the importance of traditional marriages on his end. he might not follow any ethics in the lab but when it comes to something as sacred as this, he does want something normal. i'm thinking he'd want something related to his heritage and home country, sumeru but also something snezhnayian.

♡ would prob marry you around 3 years of dating ngl. even if it seems quick (at least in my opinion), he finds normalcy in this affectionate system you two have created.

♡ bedroom wise. . i think in the early stages of the relationship, he wouldn't initiate anything for the sake of not spoiling the reveal after months of building up bliss and curiosity. i don't care, he's not as big as a whore!

♡ when you do finally get into it, he's mindful about boundaries and whatnot. he also has to be careful with his teeth because they are both pointy and sharp. he hopes you won't kick him to the couch if he accidentally forgets one too many times about his teeth.

♡ i think he's a top but it varies. like, he can be soft when you ask but he can also be rough. his actions rely on your wants, icks and emotions. as much as he likes to say he isn't great with the whole "complex human brain immediately", he still can pick up whatever you're feeling based on faces, habits and even how you breathe.

♡ in my opinion, i believe that he is banned from giving head with teeth and sex in the lab. not explaining.

♡ overall, he's a decent person to be with but it is a LOT of work.

#genshin impact #headcannon #reader #genshin smut #x reader #genshin impact x reader smut #gender neutral reader #dottore #genshin impact dottore #fatui x you #fatui x reader #yaaaas

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cakeofthepan · 1 year

Audio

Congrats to Will for achieving 2 of the greatest achievements in life, becoming a father and murdering Freddie Wong.

[Audio Transcript:

[Rhythmic clacking music plays]

Will: Hey everyone, I’m Will Campos I play Normal Oak, a mixed-up mascot kid who doesn’t know who he is anymore. Teen fact this week about Normal, this one’s for you Freddie

Freddie: Yay!

Will: That raccoon that Normal found, that he befriended a couple of teen facts ago, it’s actually not a racoon it’s a goingondog.

[music cuts out]

Freddie: What’s a goingondog?

Beth: oohhhhhh

Will: [extremely pleased with himself] Not much dog, what’s a going on with you bitch?

Freddie: [screams in agony]

[crab rave starts playing]

Matt: [laughing] are you serious? Did you seriously fall for that?

Anthony: [overlapping] Did you seriously fall for that? You actually fell for that?

Beth: [overlapping] I can’t- I can’t believe you-

Freddie: [overlapping] you BITCH

Will: [full on cackling]

Matt: Are you serious?

Anthony: Oh my god, Freddie is full on doing the Evangelion Shinji like doubled over in his chair clutching his head.

Beth: Oh No!

Will: [still cackling]

Freddie: [screams in agony again]

Anthony: He literally looks like he has to go pilot the Eva right now

Will: YESSS

Anthony: I can’t believe that

Freddie: Aaaaaa what

Matt: Will- Will, you found his perfect weakness, you found like a moment when his defenses were down

Anthony: Oh my god

Will: I, alright, so here’s the real story, I became a-

Freddie: GODDAMN IT

Will: [laughs]

Anthony: How did you fall for it?

Matt: How did you fall for that?

Freddie: [yelling] I don’t know, I don’t know, it was a moment of weakness, Jesus Christ

Anthony: Oh man

Will: [laughs] so um, here’s the story of that dad fact. Last month, I became a father. My wife and I had our beautiful baby boy Andy. He’s doing well, everyone’s doing great. I have been thinking about what my dad fact was gonna be for a month straight while sleep deprived and pacing around back and forth. And I was like, I feel like I’ve got one chance here to really pull something over on somebody. And I thought of this goingondog thing, I was like wait a sec. Cuz Freddie updogged me

Matt: Mmm Hmmm

Will: two decades ago I swear to god. Ten year- twelve years ago

Matt: Oh my god

Beth: Damn

Will: He got me with just straight up updog and I was like, I will have my revenge one day

Freddie: Wait do you remember that? I don’t remember that

Will: I had never heard updog before, and then you just updogged me and then everyone laughed at me and I’ve been holding a grudge-

Anthony: The day Freddie updogged you was the most important day of your life. To him it was Tuesday

Freddie: [laughing] For me it was a Tuesday

Will: And I was like, I bet my first fact back everyone’s gonna be wondering what it is, he’s gonna say something about having a kid. And then I’m like, oh wait, I’ll call Freddie out specifically, I’ll reel, I’ll reel him in.

Freddie: Oh what, that’s the move. That was the move. That’s what got me dude

Beth: Damn

Will: Yeah, so I don’t know. Anyway, I can die now I’m quitting the podcast. Goodbye

Anthony: Wow

Freddie: Fuck, bro. Just like fucking James Earl Jones used to say dude, the circle is now complete

Matt: I just watched an assassination. You know like, one of those videos that nobody moves. Like, we all just sat here just watched Freddie get murdered.

Will: [laughs] one of those 3 seconds before disaster happened videos. Anyway

Freddie: Holy shit. Do I need to turn back in my podcaster card?

Beth and Matt: I think so

[laughter]

Freddie: Do I need to go back to the podcasters guild and tell them that I’ve been forcibly ejected by an updog joke?

Beth: Hi

Freddie: [screams]

Beth: Hi

Freddie: Fuck you Will

Will: Hi Beth, how are you?

[music fades out]

Anthony: Roll stealth with disadvantage Taylor

Freddie: Taylor’s just so pumped at the idea that there was a ghost

Will: Taylor Swift really wondering if uhh we’re uhh out of the woods yet

Beth: Mmmmmm

Freddie: don’t ugh Will

Will: Did you hear her new song hey what’s up dog?

Freddie: Go fuck yourself

Beth: Freddie says it smells like wrong dog in here

Anthony: Freddie, you wanna roll to bofa?

End Transcript]

#dndads #dungeons and daddies #i have literally no idea what anthony is talking about re: evangelion I hope I spelled things correctly #my audio #long post

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lskisms · 1 year

Text

YOU, AT LEAST, WERE BUILT TO GO, J. MILLER

. . . which is why you are able to be loved

synopsis — joel is getting older, he is getting frail, and you, still in your youth, have to come to terms with it. you just have to do so much sooner than you thought when he’s hurt during your attempt to escape the university of eastern colorado.

genres &&. warnings — angst, hurt/comfort, (post) apocalypse &&. canon compliant, spoilers for ep. 6 “kin” and ep. 7 “left behind,” contemplation of death, canon-typical violence (wound, gore, blood, wound care), age-gap (reader is in their mid-late 20s).

word count — 3.2k

note from r — title comes from the poem “elegy for my innocence” by steven dunn. i suppose i need to introduce myself a little: i’m rhi, i’m 22, and i’m in my second to last semester of college where i’m majoring in english. obvi, a big fan of the last of us, but also resident evil (which is what i’ve based my account aesthetic on, courtesy of my beloved leon s. kennedy). my ask box is open for people who want to send in asks and things. i’m really looking forward to writing for my fellow joel miller lovers.

if your parents were still alive, if they were around to see the life you’ve carved for yourself over the last few months, you’re certain your dad would want to smack the shit out of you and your mother would disown you from the family faster than you could blink.

you can hear the chastising now: a man old enough to be your father? are you joking? what the fuck is wrong with you? this is not what we meant when we told you we wanted you to start a family.

and you can’t fault them really. you are almost twenty years his senior, having been just a young child when the cordyceps outbreak decimated the world. if the world had stayed normal, if none of this had ever happened, you’d probably have a dead end corporate job that has you wanting to drop off the face of the earth at the end of every grueling day, married and going home to a man complacent and yielding in every aspect, never too sure of himself to assert any kind of dominance, stuck in his own dead end job that keeps you comfortable just enough.

but the world isn’t normal and it hasn’t been since 2003. and there’s nothing you can do about it. you feel like a child again, wholly the depiction of the angsty teen in dramas and romcoms, as you tell the ghosts of your parents that the heart wants what it wants and i can’t help that i fell in love with a man going starlight gray at his temples. it is wholly melodramatic, something that you would have seen in any number of teen dramas written by out-of-touch, old white men.

joel miller came into your life like a lone crimson leaf during the fall, sometime during your first few months at the boston quarantine zone. it wasn’t like he’d meant to because everything that man did and does is deliberate; he’d simply waltzed across your line of vision as you’d walked back to your apartment after a long day of doing menial chores, the new world equivalent of that mental-health-issue inducing corporate job that the older people of the zone talked about.

you’d heard of him, of course: joel miller, flown in from somewhere down south, a menace to anyone who crossed his path prior to his arrival in boston, a brother somewhere out in the midwest who had taken off and joined the fireflies. he was decidedly unapproachable, gruff and mean and stubborn. most people were more scared of him than they were of fedra for the simple fact that he was more deadly with his two bare hands than any fedra idiot (sorry, “soldier”) with a gun.

he wasn’t a person who you intended to mess around with, no matter how handsome you’d thought he was when you saw him that first time. but then you’d started hanging around with tess, one of very few people who had any kind of stable-enough connection with him and that had led to you meeting and hanging around with him too. tess invited you to go on runs with them, sneaking out of the zone at night to stretch your legs and look for supplies that fedra definitely had and refused to give up. she’d preached your capabilities to joel and, stubborn as he was, he’d allowed you to keep coming with them after the first time because you proved to be spry enough for things that he and tess had grown a little too old for: you were useful to him and that filled you with a kind of thrilling gratification.

by the time marlene had tasked your little trio with getting ellie out of the city, you were a year deep into your entanglement with joel where you did all the recreational talking and he was the one who made the deals with the fireflies, the fedra goons he had in his pocket, the people who had things to trade. it was a balance that worked well for you: joel was well-versed in persuasion when he wanted to be and you were seemingly the only person who could draw out the rare ghost of a smile or a laugh from him.

it was supposed to be a quick job, one that joel had insisted you sit out but you’d refused. just a quick round trip tpe thing, that’s what you’d said to him. we’ll be out and back before anybody even realizes we’re gone.

that had gone belly-up, of course, because anything that involved the fireflies had at least a 99% chance of not turning out the way anyone planned. and when you’d left the museum, you were down a friend and up a whole ton of miles. joel had tried to convince you again to leave, but once more you’d refused. tess died for us, joel. i’m in this until the end because i’m making sure her sacrifice wasn’t for nothing.

and he’d let you stay. even months after that discussion, you think that he must feel at least a tiny bit grateful that you’d argued with him over it, that you’d fought to tag along. you’re an extra set of eyes, of hands, someone capable of taking over when he needs a break, which is hardly ever because he’s still as ornery as always, but knowing that there’s someone there who can must be nice enough.

and you’re glad he’d given in for once in his life because he’s dying beneath your hands and you’re not sure what to do. he’s going sallow and gray on the concrete floor of this ransacked house, breathing raspy and eyes slipping between you and some far-off point above him. joel is dying and for the first time ever since entering his life, you’re useless.

“joel, stay awake, please,” you beg, clutching at his hand as you kneel beside him. “ellie, you have to stop the bleeding.”

“i’m trying,” the young girl snaps. when she looks up, all you see is a girl who is reliving a loss, a deer caught in headlights, frenzied and terrified. her hands press the cloth harder over joel’s stomach in an attempt to staunch the blood flow and the man groans.

“leave,” he mumbles and your head snaps to look at him. he cannot possibly be saying this right now, not after everything you’ve been through. “leave. head north, go back to jackson. find tommy.”

“like hell we will,” you reply, trying to channel as much of his stubbornness as you can. you’d rather give up and drop dead right now than leave him to die alone in some fucking house in colorado. “we’re gonna fix this, joel. we’re not leaving, i’m not leaving.”

he’s slipping again, eyes glazing over. you can tell he wants to fight with you, but he’s losing the energy for it. for any of it. ellie stills and then tosses his jacket over him in a bid to keep him warm. she fixes you with a look, his look that says stay with him, so you nod solemnly, brushing his hair back from his forehead. you hear her footsteps on the stairs and only when the door shuts behind her do you finally let yourself break, weeping openly over joel’s chest, rising and falling so, so shallowly.

falling in love with this man has been something beautiful, some kind of phoenix rising from the ashes of a long-dead world. over the last few months, you have come to learn the feel of his knuckles brushing against yours, the warmth of his chest against your back when you share a sleeping bag, the sound of his soft breaths as you’ve trekked through miles upon miles of woods and abandoned highways. you have come to appreciate those things, facets of him that only you are privy to, the only person to know the weight of his arm over your waist and feel of his breath against your shoulder.

but in doing so, in reveling in the knowledge that you are the sole person to experience these hidden away pieces of joel miller, you’ve forgotten just how much older he is than you are. that misty gray at his temples and in his beard have been so permanent, you’ve started to believe that he’s always looked like this, that it’s not a marker of his age. you’ve forgotten that he is older and growing frailer by the day, conveniently forgotten how his heart stutters and how his knees act up after hours and miles of walking.

you had always known, of course, that joel would eventually leave you, but not this soon. and not like this.

maybe it’s your fault for putting him on a pedestal: the great, unstoppable joel miller. in your mind, he’s untouchable, some formidable opponent who people fear because he’s strong and knows his way around a fight. it shouldn’t be a chunk of a broken baseball bat that ends his life because it’s not fair, none of this is fair. you’ve been a fool for thinking that the three of you, your unlikely little family, would make it out of this unscathed, for believing that you could live a life like bill and frank’s after this all was over: fulfilling, safe, and the closest resemblance of before.

“god,” you whimper out, still brushing your fingers through his salt and pepper hair. “how could you even consider telling us to leave you here, joel?”

he gazes up at you, blinks slowly, the smallest signs of life that tell you he’s listening and wanting to fight you back about it.

“y’can’t leave me alone here, old man.” a short, wet laugh. “we’ve got so much left to do. i can’t get ellie back to jackson without you. i can’t do anything without you.”

he shakes his head in response and narrows those dark eyes of his just a bit. you read it for what it is: don’t you start talkin’ about yourself like that. he’s always been hard on you for not believing in yourself and your abilities, and it makes you laugh again.

“i mean really, joel. first man i’ve ever loved and you’re telling me to leave you here to die alone in fucking colorado.” you shake your head, looking away to try to blink back tears. “i can’t- i can’t just go. i need you alive.”

you can’t even stop yourself from babbling through the tears, brushing his hair back and wiping away his own tears. even though you should be desensitized to death and loss, you’ve always been particularly sensitive. but you’re young and this is your first love, your only shot at it, and he’s bleeding out on a cold floor because you were too focused on everything else that you hadn’t been able to stop him from getting hurt.

“ain’t your fault,” joel rasps out, eyes shining in the dull winter light. you realize you voiced that, a placing of responsibility that you’d meant for yourself and yourself only. “don’t do that.”

you stare at him and you know what’s going through that head of his. all kinds of thoughts that he wants to voice out loud: it’s not your fault and you were doing the best you could in the situation and this was going to happen sooner or later. damn pessimistic realist, always focusing on the worst possible outcomes than entertaining any kind of optimism.

and in a twisted turn of events, you start to think of your parents, long gone and relegated solely to memory, buried somewhere between atlanta and boston: an optimistic dad and an overwhelmingly realistic mother, so far on opposite ends of a spectrum that they complemented each other perfectly. your dad, ever the poet, had stolen poetry collections from every bookstore he’d came across during your treks from settlement to settlement. his favorite poem, by far, was about the death of a person’s innocence, something always meant to die eventually, perpetually blushing and always coming back a little less pristine each time.

you remember it now as you’re holding joel’s hand with your own, pressing his knuckles against the soft plush of your cheek. you, at least, were built to go, you hear your father’s voice say in your head, which is why you are able to be loved. you haven’t thought about this poem in years, not since you lost him to a runner somewhere in south carolina, but it feels sickening that you’re recalling it now as you’re watching your first and only love die under your hands.

and yet, somehow, it feels comforting, the idea that to be human is to know that one day, a loved one will die, but to know that is to cherish them better, to love them harder. you’re not at all okay with joel dying because you’ve had so little time to love him, but it helps you to cherish those few late nights more, to revel in the memory of his warmth enveloping you on particularly cold nights.

you can let me go. joel’s dark eyes are going glossy again and you smile knowingly at him, still crying. he’s not dead yet and there’s a possibility that he’ll make it out of this alive, the outcome that you’re praying to every god that has ever existed for. you can let me go; it won’t be easy, but you can do it.

ellie’s feet as loud on the old wood stairs as she comes barreling through the door and down the stairwell. she looks rabid as she all but throws herself onto the floor beside joel, ripping the tan coat back and pulling the soaked cloth away. joel’s wound is still gushing blood, a sure sign that he’s well on his way to death, but when ellie makes eye contact with you, you know for sure she’s found something to help. she holds up a needle and spool of thread; she must have torn the entire house apart looking for her hail mary and she found it, she fucking found it. she stares at you, eyes wide and face red, breathing hard, waiting for your go ahead.

when you finally nod at her, fresh tears in your eyes, you look down at joel. his fingers curl around your palm tighter and he’s staring back, his eyes wide. you laugh tearfully, totally and entirely stunned that ellie had actually found a way to help.

“you’re gonna be okay,” you weep, pressing his hand to your forehead, letting your tears drip into your lap. “you’re gonna be okay, joel. just hang on.”

the next few minutes crawl by cruelly, joel surely leaving bruises on your hand from gripping yours too hard, too tight, but you can’t even care because when his hand finally goes slack, ellie is done. her handiwork isn’t so bad and the bleeding has stopped for the most part. when you sigh, it feels like the weight of the world leaves your shoulders, a degree of relief you’ve never felt in your life.

joel, stubborn as always, is fighting unconsciousness as you turn to look back at him and you know it’s because he knows he’s not entirely out of the woods yet. there’s still bleeding to stop, a potential infection to fight, medicine you need to find to keep him safe and healthy, but this has to be good enough for now. it has to be because he’s joel miller and he’s mucked it through gunshot wounds and temporary deafness and all kinds of other shit the world has thrown at him.

ellie, clearly emotionally gone, stands, her dark eyes empty and her face void of everything save for exhaustion. without even looking at you, she turns towards the stairs and says to nobody, “going for a walk. i need a break.”

her footsteps echo in the stairwell and then creak overhead before she disappears out the front door, leaving you in an empty house with joel and the horse in the garage. you look back to joel, still holding his hand. his face, always so devoid of anything minus annoyance and anger, looks so relieved right now and it makes you want to cry again, but you’re shit out of saline. you lay his hand down beside him before you tuck his winter coat back over him, up to the chin.

there’s not much that you can say, no thoughts come to mind. nothing more than i love you, but you want to save those for when he’s safely out of the thick of this. as true as they are, it’s not the right time, but you’re sure he knows. he must when he scoots his hand out from under the coat and nudges it against your thigh, some gesture that you can’t decode, but that you understand as i’m still here, like he’s able to read your mind. you smile at him softly.

i’ll tell him when this is all over, you reason with yourself as you move to lay beside him, exhaustion finally overtaking you. wherever we end up after ellie is safe with the fireflies, i’ll tell him and he’ll say it back and we’ll be okay.

he can’t turn onto his side, but he turns his head to face you, looking every bit the age of fifty. his eyes are tired and the crinkles of his skin run deep, his cheeks and chin dusted gray. this close, you can see every pock mark, the dip of skin at his temple from some long-forgotten cut, the deep scar that mars the space between his eyebrows. his defenses are down and he looks his age, for the first time in a long time because it’s so easy to forget how old he is when he’s doing the things he does to protect you and ellie.

you scoot in as far as you’ll allow yourself, knees knocking against his legs and your head pillowed on the arm underneath you. you raise a hand and rest it on his cheek, a touch he immediately leans into, like your palm was made to caress his skin. as far as you care, it was. he tilts his head towards you and you find yourself doing the same, foreheads touching. this is one of the small gestures joel allows you on most days, but right now, it feels more monumental than that. like always, it’s a moment shared singularly between the two of you, but it carries so much more weight because he gazes at you with so much more softness and love than he’s ever let himself show before and it reminds you that underneath all that rough exterior, he is a man capable of gentle touches and adoration, no matter how many times the world and himself have tried to beat it out of him.

as his breathing slows, but deepens (a sure sign that ellie has mended the problem for now), you move your arm to rest on his torso, hand pressed into the sturdy spot just above his heart. the beat is steady, solid, a reminder that he’s okay. he was built to go, but now more than ever, you feel he was also built to be yours, to be loved by you. and you’ll make sure he makes it through this, no matter the cost.

(c) lskisms, 2023. do not repost, translate, or otherwise plagiarize my work. the only official versions of my work are available on tumblr and ao3 under the name lskisms.

#joel miller x reader #joel miller fic #joel miller fanfic #pedro pascal fic #tlou x reader #.lskisms #.joel #.tlou

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coeurdalene · 8 months

Text

looking for some light

masterlist | ao3

summary: he tells raleigh, “i want to come back from this mission, ‘cause i quite like my life.” he means, there’s still so much i want to do, so much i have to do. (aka chuck wants to make it through this goddamn war so he can finally live a normal life, even if he doesn’t really know what that means.)

pairing: chuck hansen x reader

warning(s): character death (sorry), swearing, mentions of canon-typical violence.

word count: 3.86k

a/n: i meant to have this finished by the ten year anniversary of the movie but uh… anyways, here it is now! this is my love letter to chuck hansen and also a projection of my want for a beach house.

The universe gifts Chuck an unwanted Christmas present in the form of a memorandum. He swears under his breath when you trudge into the Mission Control Center that morning with a dejected frown on your face and shove the crisp paper into his hands. His eyes fall on the letterhead, embossed with the familiar spread-winged eagle, and he already knows what it contains. He’d been expecting it for months. He resists the urge to scream, to crumple the paper into a ball and hurl it at the trash bin with every ounce of remaining strength in his body. He doesn’t envy you when you announce the bad news to everyone else, fulfilling your final duty as Sydney’s Chief LOCCENT Officer.

Days later, not even twenty-four hours after the Shatterdome decommissioning and right at the beginning of the new year, the universe offers him—and the rest of Sydney—another unwanted gift.

Mutavore is an ugly thing. Nearly ninety meters tall and weighing over two thousand tons, it’s hunched over as if struggling to support its own weight, blade-like plates protruding from its head and back.

“I don’t care how many eyes it has,” he says after you read out its classification and measurements, “I’m gonna kick its ass.”

(Six. It has six eyes. Just because he doesn’t care doesn’t mean he won’t pay attention.)

The category four Kaiju plows through the coastal wall like a knife cutting through warm butter and tramps into Sydney Harbour, stopping only to raise its head and let out a guttural screech, as if barging through a metal barrier hadn't been enough to announce its presence. He wonders how many millions of dollars have now been reduced to rubble at the bottom of the bay and how many weeks were spent welding together beams that took only a few seconds to destroy.

Then, its beady eyes—all six of them—focus on Striker Eureka and her brass knuckles glinting in the sun. It screeches again before charging headfirst into Striker’s swinging fist.

Mutavore dies as quickly as it breached the wall, lying motionless in the bay, blood-soaked missiles lodged in its chest and Kaiju blue staining the water.

“That’s Striker Eureka’s tenth kill to date. It’s a new record,” he boasts to the reporter in the aftermath. He ignores the questions about the decommissioning and brushes off the look his father gives him. Don’t get too cocky, he looks like he wants to say.

When they return to the Shatterdome, the J-Tech crew cleans Striker, polishing her knuckles and wiping Kaiju remains from the Conn-Pod. Chuck takes a long hot shower. Then, the move to Hong Kong begins.

The Anchorage Shatterdome—the cold and stalwart Icebox—had been the first to close. He remembers how you had stared blankly at the official PPDC statement for hours while he watched the newscaster on the television read it out loud. The Marshal had been on the broadcast, too, brought on for further questioning. When the anchor asked about the future of the Jaeger Program, he had assured her that, as long as the Kaiju kept coming, the Jaegers would keep fighting. Chuck had laughed dryly at that. The dwindling funding from the U.N. would say otherwise and whispers of better opportunities at the wall hung in the air, getting louder with every passing day.

The closure of the Icebox set off a string of shutdowns: Lima and Tokyo later that month, Panama City in November, Vladivostok and Los Angeles a few weeks after. The clock was ticking and it was only a matter of time before that damned memorandum arrived in Sydney, his fate dictated by its contents.

His beloved Sydney Shatterdome closes at the turn of the year, leaving behind its only remaining sibling in Hong Kong. What had once been a robust network of PPDC hubs was now reduced to one.

And the clock continues to tick.

“We don’t need a stupid wall,” Chuck declares on the flight to Hong Kong, glaring at the news broadcast replaying footage of the Sydney attack. “We need better pilots.”

He’d expressed the same sentiment to the reporter who interviewed him after Mutavore’s attack, too, blaming the fall of the Jaeger program on the mediocrity of those involved. He isn’t sure if it’s that simple—you had explained something to him about politics and funding and morale, government nonsense he didn’t understand—but he sure as hell knows that the Jaegers would be winning if pilots stopped letting the Kaiju kick their asses.

“Have some respect,” his father chides. “Every pilot has fought tooth and nail to protect the people they love.”

And perhaps that’s the truth—it sure is for him. His days consist of sore muscles from training, never getting enough sleep, and always anticipating another fight. He does it for his father, who has been a soldier for as long as he can remember. For his mother, whose untimely death lingers in the back of his mind every time he sets his eyes on a Kaiju. For you, who frequently pulls all-nighters and agonizes over details to make sure the Shatterdome stays running. And for Max, of course. (Silly little dog probably has no idea what a Kaiju is.)

So, yeah, perhaps it is the truth. But it doesn’t change the fact that they only have eight months left of funding, or that the U.N. thinks a wall will fare better than a Jaeger.

“We won’t be getting more pilots. All we can do is work with what we still have,” you chime in, pulling Chuck out of his thoughts. “But, on the bright side, our remaining pilots are some of the best in program history.”

“Including me?” he smirks. You laugh, cheerful and bright, punching his arm lightly. Max shifts in his sleep at the sudden noise. His father gives him that look again. Don’t get too cocky.

He spends the rest of the flight listening to you read briefing notes on “Operation Pitfall,” the Marshal’s shiny new plan to end the war by detonating a bomb at the throat of the Breach. Somehow, the PPDC had procured a thermonuclear warhead from the Russians, entrusting Striker Eureka to carry it while the remaining Jaegers played defense.

Chuck is cynical about this plan. They had already tried (and failed) to drop things into the Breach. A bomb would only bounce back at them and kill anything in range.

He quips sarcastically if the Marshal had thought of that. You respond only by flipping through the file again for an explanation. He knows you won’t find one.

As he steps off the plane and onto the landing pad, he’s met with a grinning Tendo Choi shouting over the patter of heavy rain, “Welcome to Hong Kong!”

The man, wearing a grey suit jacket too wide around the shoulders shakes their hands in greeting before ushering them out of the rain and into the Shatterdome. Chuck sidesteps some J-Techs as he enters, surveying his surroundings.

He had been much younger the last time he visited Hong Kong and much less invested in all the inner workings of the PPDC. He remembers mechanics and pilots shouting and running about, dirt and scuff marks on the floor, and his father reminding him to keep a tight grip on Max’s leash. It had felt unfamiliar then, but he realizes now that it isn’t too different from Sydney. Same high ceiling, same metal catwalks, and almost the same arsenal of Jaegers towering over him. It’s a little older, a little grittier, and a little more worn down, but no longer foreign.

He spots Cherno Alpha in one of the bays, its stalwart form hunkering and heavy. The Kaidanovskys stand at its feet, engaged in conversation. Crimson Typhoon stands opposite it, brilliant red and regal. J-Techs gather around her three arms, inspecting and cleaning the rotating saw blades.

“Striker arrived a few minutes before you did,” Tendo gestures to the shiny silver Jaeger standing in the far bay, metal glinting under the bright lights of the hangar. “The crew is getting her settled in.”

Then, Chuck’s eyes fall on the fourth and final Jaeger. That last he had heard of Gipsy Danger was that she had been decommissioned, damaged beyond repair from a mission gone wrong. But here she stands—untarnished metallic blue, left arm intact, and definitely not lying forgotten in Oblivion Bay.

“What’s that old rustbucket doing here?” he leers, very aware that there isn’t a single speck of rust on her.

“She looks brand new,” you remark.

“She is, sorta,” Tendo replies, “We’ve been fixing her up: a new fluid synapse system, new engine blocks, and a new hull. She’ll be holding the defensive perimeter for you in Operation Pitfall, along with Cherno Alpha and Crimson Typhoon.”

“Does she have pilots?” you inquire.

“Not yet,” Tendo grins. “But she will.”

Chuck hopes that these pilots won’t be incompetent idiots, whoever they might be.

The peaceful moments are rare, but cherished and so welcomed. In these instances, he lets his guard down, breathes deeply, and allows himself to think of anything other than training or fighting.

One of his favorites is somewhere in between Striker’s fourth and fifth kills: a lazy afternoon in bed with your back against the headboard and his head in your lap, sunlight streaming in through the windows with your fingers carding lightly through his hair.

“After this war is over,” he declares, imagining a life without the chaos and destruction that comes with being a Jaeger pilot, “we’ll buy a nice house in the suburbs where we’ll live blissfully for the rest of our lives.”

“The suburbs are nice,” you contend, “but how about a beach house on the Gold Coast? Or Port Douglas?”

He chuckles at that, picturing what living by the ocean without the fear of a Kaiju attack would be like. He would spend his mornings engulfed in the soothing murmur of the sea, gazing out at the unbroken horizon. His afternoons basking in the warmth of the sun, feet buried in the soft sand. His evenings surrounded by music and your melodious laughter, trying not to step on your toes while you lead him through a dance in your living room.

Quiet, he thinks. Serene. The only unrest would be the waves at high tide or the gulls swooping down to steal his food.

“Wherever you want, as long as it’s you and me. And Max. Right, bud?” he grins at the bulldog lying at the foot of the bed. Max lets out a little grunt. Chuck takes that as a sign of agreement.

“Sounds lovely,” you reply, your hand moving to rest against his cheek. He turns his head to kiss your palm, heart soaring at the way you smile softly down at him.

All Chuck knows about Raleigh Becket is that he quit the Jaeger Program. That information alone is enough for him to dislike the guy. He doesn’t trust some washed-up pilot to run defense for him while he carries a 2400-pound bomb on the back of his Jaeger. Doesn’t care that his father fought alongside the guy in Manila or that he single-handedly piloted his Jaeger back to shore. Doesn’t bother to hold back a grimace when Raleigh tells him that he’d been working on the wall for the past five years.

“If you slow me down, I'm gonna drop you like a sack of Kaiju shit,” he hisses at him in the mess hall. He ignores the way his father watches him with disapproval as he stalks away.

His bad mood turns worse when Mako Mori is named Raleigh’s copilot.

He has known Mako for years. They had grown up in Shatterdomes together, met a few times when the Marshal had brought her to Sydney, and briefly bonded over their love of dogs. He’s close enough to her to know that she can fight well and that she has one of the best simulator scores he’s ever seen. (Better than his, although he’d never admit that.) But, she has no experience in a Jaeger and no understanding of what a drift is actually like, which, in his eyes, makes her no better than Raleigh. He isn’t surprised when they’re both out of alignment during their test run, your concerned tone alerting the rest of LOCCENT of the deviation, or when Mako begins chasing the RABIT, raising apprehensive murmurs from the crowd of onlookers. Or when it ends in Tendo pulling the plug on Gipsy’s power.

“Worse mistakes have happened,” Tendo sighs as Gipsy’s plasma cannon goes offline. Chuck scowls. There is no space for even a single mistake in the plan to attack the Breach, especially amateur ones like chasing RABITs. He knows that the Marshal understands this, too.

Later, as he paces in the Marshal’s office, still brimming with anger from Raleigh and Mako’s failure of a test run, he snaps, “He's a has-been. She’s a rookie. I don’t want them protecting my bomb run. sir.”

His father stands across the room, arms crossed and mouth set tightly in a frown. In the corner, you and Tendo are huddled over a tablet, discussing the drift results in hushed voices. The Marshal warns him to watch his tone. Chuck rolls his eyes in response and thinks to himself, He knows I’m right.

He finds Raleigh and Mako standing silently in the hall outside after his father kicks him out of the room. He rounds on the former, seething and jabbing an accusatory finger into his chest, “I want to come back from this mission, ‘cause I quite like my life.”

He turns to Mako, sneering and spitting out some distasteful things, ignoring the feeling that he’ll regret it later.

When Raleigh’s fist makes contact with his jaw, Chuck sees red.

On bad nights, he wakes up in a cold sweat, plagued by nightmares of being painfully ripped to shreds by sharp claws and teeth. Some nights he wakes up angry, frustrated with himself after overanalyzing his fights. Other nights, he relives the moment when he found out about his mother’s death, shaking with body-wracking sobs and shuddering with each intake of breath. But you hold him through it, your soothing hands on his back and comforting words in his ear. He focuses on your voice, steady and calm, and syncs his breathing with yours.

“You’re okay,” you murmur. “They’re just nightmares. You’re okay.”

“I’m okay,” he repeats.

On bad nights, you confess your fear that the war will never end, or that you’ll burn out before it does. Some nights, you feel that you’re not doing enough, that you need to get back to work even though it’s past midnight. Other nights, you worry that you’ll spend your entire life fighting, that you’ll never be able to rest. But he holds you through it, his calloused fingers on your cheeks wiping away your tears. You focus on his touch, firm and resolute, and rest your hands on top of his.

“It’s okay,” you contend, voice shaky but certain. “I have you. This is enough.”

“This is enough,” he repeats.

Yet, he can’t help but want more. He wants the beach house instead of the cold metal walls of the Shatterdome. Wants to wake up to the sun, your smile, and Max’s whining for food instead of doomsday alarms and Kaiju attacks. Wants you to be able to sleep in for once. Wants to spend his days sunbathing and learning to surf instead of training in combat drills and preparing for another attack. Wants to give you some peace, and to find some of his own.

He tells Raleigh, “I want to come back from this mission, ‘cause I quite like my life.”

He means, There’s still so much I want to do, so much I have to do.

Chuck has only felt true fear a few times in his life. Standing on top of his disabled Jaeger with only a flare gun in his hands is one of them. In the moment, he tells himself that he isn’t afraid, that a double event isn’t any different from any other Kaiju attack, and that Striker will come back online in just a second. The adrenaline coursing through his veins overpowers the feeling of impending doom anyway. But, later, as he reflects on the feeling of relief that had washed over when Gipsy’s fog lights enveloped him, he admits that he had been scared shitless. And, he admits (only to himself) that he’s thankful for Raleigh and Mako, even if they’re has-beens or rookies.

He holds you closer that night and knows that you’ve already picked up on all the details of his uneasy expression. Still, he musters up the strength to confess aloud, “I thought we were gonna die.”

You’re silent, responding only by rubbing your hand across his back and hugging him a little tighter. The heavy weight of his lingering fear sits in his chest as he continues, “Dad had injured his arm, our comms were out, Cherno and Crimson were gone, and there was a fucking Kaiju ready to swallow us whole. Shooting that flare at it made it even more pissed off.”

“Not your best idea,” you remark playfully. “You’d think all that training to prepare you for situations like this would help you keep calm and think of something rational to do.”

“It was Dad’s idea, not mine,” he shrugs.

“Well, I’m glad the flare managed to keep it occupied long enough for Gipsy to get there,” you reply, a soft smile tugging at the corners of your lips. “And I’m glad you’re not dead.”

“Me, too,” he sighs, the weight in his chest lightening slightly.

When he drifts off to sleep, he dreams of the war ending and a house overlooking the shore.

If, a year ago, you had told Chuck that he would be piloting a Jaeger with the Marshal Stacker Pentecost, he would have laughed in your face and asked why the Marshal wasn’t off doing better things (like convincing world leaders to keep funding the Jaeger Program or figuring out ways to increase pilot recruitment). And, if you had told him that he would hear the phrase “there’s a third signature emerging from the Breach,” he would have rolled his eyes and declared the situation impossible. (“I’d still kick its ass, though,” he would have probably said.)

Yet, here he is, strapped into Striker with the Marshal as his copilot, only three hundred meters from the Breach, watching a category five Kaiju materialize in front of him. He feels his stomach drop as he lays eyes on Slattern’s angular head and the sharp spike protruding from its chest. When it roars, the water around them ripples, and the ground beneath shakes. He barely has any time to think before the massive beast rears its head and charges, swinging its heavy leathery tail directly at them.

The hit knocks Striker off her feet and sends her crashing into a nearby hydrothermal vent. He winces and swears, body aching and head beginning to throb as streams of water push and jostle the Jaeger. Slattern prepares to charge again just as Striker regains her footing and he easily falls into a fighting stance along with the Marshal, fists clenched and ready to strike. This time, when it attacks, they’re ready—dealing out swift punches that send the Kaiju reeling.

He isn’t sure how much of it is the Marshal and how much of it is himself, but the exhilaration that rushes through him as one of Striker’s sting blades slices across Slattern’s throat reinvigorates him. The other blade cuts into its arms, blue blood spilling from deep gashes. It screeches, and he expects it to rush at them again, but it swims away, blood trailing eerily in the water.

He takes the moment of respite to breathe, and to survey the damage. The harsh red light of the many, many warning messages flashes across his vision. He fiddles with some controls, watches as the Marshal does the same, and sighs heavily when neither of their attempts fixes anything. He resigns himself to hoping that Striker can hold on a little longer. She had gotten him this far, surely she could see him through to the end of this war—and to the beginning of his life at peace.

But–

“The attack jammed the bomb release,” he notices. “We’ll have to manually override–”

A yell from LOCCENT cuts him off. Chuck’s stomach drops even further when he hears someone say, “Striker, you have two Kaiju converging on you fast!”

He curses loudly and immediately knows, There’s no time for a manual override.

The Marshal is on the intercom before Chuck can even begin to formulate a plan, shouting to Raleigh and Mako.

“You know exactly what you have to do,” he declares. “Gipsy is nuclear, take her to the Breach.”

“What can we do, sir?” Chuck asks, bracing for the hit.

“We can clear a path,” the Marshal answers firmly, a slight smile pulling at the corners of his mouth, “for the lady.”

Even without the drift connecting their thoughts, Chuck understands.

“Well, my father always said, ‘If you have a shot, you take it,’” he remarks, knowing that, on the other end, his father is listening with pride. Chuck can admit that he was an arrogant dickhead with no respect for any of the pilots around him and that he never bothered to hide his resentment for his old man, never gave him a reason to like the man his son had become. Yet, he knows—and has always known—that his father is proud of him. (He is proud of his father, too, for what it’s worth.)

In the final moments, his thoughts drift to you: swathed in blankets and gathered in his arms on cold winter nights, perched on the seat of a stationary bike and reading reports while keeping him company in the gym, wrapped in his brown leather jacket with Max’s leash in your hand while accompanying him for walks around the Shatterdome. He recalls your bright laughter when he’d crack stupid jokes, your serious voice you’d use only over the intercom, and the mischievous glint in your eyes when you’d pretend you hadn’t given Max extra treats.

“I love you,” he had said before entering the Conn-Pod, so quietly that only you could hear him, holding you tightly and kissing away your concerned frown. The warmth of your hands against his cheeks had lingered as he had stepped away.

“I love you,” he says now, loud enough for you to hear him over all the noise, swallowing the lump in his throat and blinking away the tears threatening to spill from the corners of his eyes. “I’m sorry we’ll never get that beach house.”

“But, I had you,” he says. “It was enough.”

When the bomb detonates, he’s surrounded by blinding light and a deafening boom. And, finally, peace.

In his dreams, he can’t tell where he is, only that Max is sitting at his feet, his father is somewhere in the distance, and you’re next to him with your hand in his, fingers intertwined.

#pacrim #pacific rim #chuck hansen #chuck hansen x reader #chuck hansen x you #chuck hansen imagine #my writing

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muzwoom · 3 months

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Im having modern day au alver x ogcale thoughts :,)

The setting is sort of like a earth 1’s korea except the catalysm happened waaaaay before like decades before, so fighting the monsters is way easier and more normal tho its still considered really hard and dangerous work (barely any deaths anymore but injuries are p common)

The soos all work at the company together. Cale (22 yrs old) is estranged from his family and also works at the company (hes happy to watch his little brother and little sister succeed from afar). Cale and kim rok soo constantly get compared bc theyre both serious and hard workers who tell people all the time that they wanna quit/slack off (they will never actually quit or slack off). Bc cale isnt actually in his familys life anymore he doesnt need to pretend to be trash and hes smiley like when hes krs in canon

Bc kim rok soo isnt as traumatized as in canon from losing his only friends he manages to make more friends (taylor sten, cage, eruhaben, he obvs manages to find his kids, choi han is also here and not as traumatized he just got kidnapped by monsters for like 10 years and is back home now, the whale tribe the wolf tribe the jungle queen the- you get the point. Kim rok soo is basically the companys information network at this point)

Idk if i should make krs and the other soos 36 etc still or if i should make them younger? (Like in late twenties, just a little older than when the soos minus krs died in the og timeline). In any case somehow its still cale nagging krs abt staying healthy and eating well and exercising, not the other way around

Maybe cale still has his adopted niece (aka reincarnated mom but ig he doesnt know that in this au)??

Alver (27 yrs old) has inherited his fathers trillion won company and is a repressed workaholic CEO (or maybe his father has a rlly succesful company and alver has become rlly succesful in politics instead?? Tho what ive seen the rlly succesful companies’ heirs in korea are lowkey treated with the same importance as a politician so it doesnt rlly matter)

Tasha pressures alver into taking 1 single day off. He obliges and almost gets assassinated by the mob (the white stars gang, and yes they do have powers). They decide to hire alver a specialized bodyguard. Cue the company: cale gets chosen as a guard while a few others (including kim rok soo) work on figuring out how to take out the white stars little group

Idk what power to give cale yet 👀 i wanna say either smth to do with time or smth to do with plants BUT i can also just give him both?? Or a power that combines the two?? I will look up symbolism to decide later lol

ANYWAY smiley bodyguard cale x repressed ceo alver. Cale falls first alver falls harder. Cale surprising alver with loyalty and cunning and with how he goes out of his way to take hits meant for alver. Alver being perfect and cale doing his best to goad alver into letting go of that mask every moment theyre alone

Multiple specific scenes im thinking:

- alver is goaded into taking a day off by tasha again a few months after the assassination attempt, this time with cale. They go to a café and have cutesy talks together (cale is just constantly being glib trying to trip alver up while alver is annoyed and into it)

- alver has to go to a high-end event. Cale comes with as his bodyguard/date (the date part is just a cover but they both with it was real). They meet basen who is in complete and utter shock trying to hide it (he will do a full report back to the henituse family later)

- i need the company to go to a karaoke bar every friday bc i love karaoke. Cale sort of likes it and puts up minimal resistance every time. Kim rok soo does NOT want to go but he ends up napping the whole time every friday so its not that bad. During his bodyguard job with alver cale has to decline a few times. The company manages to wrangle cale into just bringing alver with him to karaoke (the repressed ceo of a trillion won company going to a shitty karaoke bar with a bunch of rowdy office workers/sort-of-soldiers is funny to me)

- at some point it gets serious and cale takes a bullet or otherwise rlly damaging attack that was meant for alver. He has to go to the hospital and alver realizes that oh shit its not a good idea to develop feelings for someone whos job it is to take bullets for you. And then he realizes of shit i developed feelings wtf??? And then he thinks i should stop feeling this way. And then he looks at cale again, whos passed out in the hospital bed and hes like im not gonna be able to stop feeling this way, am i. Fuck. Shit. Damnit

- they have a summer wedding 🥰

- neither of them are even involved w the white star mob. They just suddenly get a call from krs like “hi. I did the job. The others want me to tell you that im in the hospital btw.” Cale and alver visit him in the hospital and cale comforts krs by saying “dw, one day youll have your farm with the other two idiots. One day. Maybe.”

- that one scene in adventure time with bonnie and marcy and bonnie leans against marcy and closes her eyes and is like “wake me up in like 20 minutes.” Them. Them. Them. Them-

- cale slowly connecting with his family after him and alver met basen at that one event. First its deruth just calling (most painful and awkward phone call in the world where deruth very obviously avoids talking abt anything important and cale is just too confused abt why hes calling to pick up on any of it.) Then basen and lily start texting him. Then lily just shows up at his house to visit. It all snowballs from there with just little awkward moments of the family trying to rebuild a bridge with cale and cale just being confused abt what they want from him and why theyd wanna see him (its bc they love him bc hes family and theyre worried abt him)

- eventually deruth visits his house in person. This is also the moment where they finally actually have The Emotions and deruth acknowledges the abandonment and emotional neglect and cale confesses it was all an act but that he also actually thought they really didnt want him and that he thought he was ruining his fathers perfect new family with his presence and that he got rid of himself bc he thought it would make them happier

- cale goes to therapy.png. The family rejoices. The company also rejoices. The company stops rejoicing when he starts badgering everyone else to also get therapy (they really really all need it)

- the confession happens after cale isnt alvers bodyguards anymore. Cale has managed to talk alver into meeting every week at alvers place and just talking or playing chess or whatever they feel like doing. Theyre just doing their weekly catching up and cale is being especially wonderful talking abt his kid and alver being especially sleepdeprived just kisses him right on the mouth. He immediately backtracks and tries to be glib abt it like “im so sorry i dont know what came over me-“ but cale just kisses him back and then the next scene they wake up no clothes in bed together. They have been pining for at least a year by this point they deserve this

- alver goes to therapy after they officially get together bc cale pushed him to. It actually helps a little??? He is absolute shit abt opening up but the therapist has some generic tips abt managing his overworking problem

- most of the groomsmen/bridesmaids (or groomsmaids??) are part of the company. Tasha is alvers maid of honor. Basen is cales groomsman or honor or however the hell thats called lol. Cales niece is the flower girl and raon is the ringbearer. Cales family is there and robbit and his wife are there too + obvs alvers maternal family.

- summer wedding

Ok this is all for now

#just talking dmm #tcf #trash of the counts family #lout of the counts family #lcf #og cale henituse #alver crossman #other ppl are here too but they dont have a big role sooo #idk if i should tag them lol

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tillystealeaves · 2 months

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Steddie Fic- Part 1: Breakup

I don't know what to title this thing, but it's a 3 part story and this is Part 1. Hope you enjoy!!!!

Steve stood in the living room, not knowing what to do with himself. Eddie would be here soon. Eddie was working that day, at the music store in the town next to Hawkins (where people didn’t care so much about the Hawkins rumor mill), and his shift ended at 4, which meant Eddie would be getting to Steve’s house by around 4:30 because Steve had invited him over, and it was 4:15 now, so Eddie should be here any minute, and if it was a normal night Steve would probably be pulling something out of the oven but tonight-

Steve stopped himself. He took a breath. He couldn’t allow his mind to go on tangents like that or he was going to word-vomit all over Eddie.

Eddie, who would be arriving any minute.

Steve had thought for a long time about whether he wanted to have this conversation in his house. If he wanted the memories of this to be burned into his mind every time that he walked through his living room. But his house was already full of so many ghosts. Barb sat perpetually at the edge of his pool, his mother cried over a glass of wine at the kitchen counter, and his father was… everywhere. Always telling Steve how everything he did was somehow a stain on the Harrington name.

Besides, the alternative was to do this at Eddie’s house and that… he couldn’t do that. Eddie had been living for less than a year in the new double-wide trailer supplied by the government. His old home, even if it hadn’t been ripped to shreds, would have been forever filled with the ghost of Chrissy. Steve couldn’t make bad memories for Eddie in his new one. (Though he was fairly sure that Eddie wouldn’t be particularly haunted by this conversation anyway.)

And then there was the fact that over the past eight months since the Spring Break from Hell, Eddie’s new trailer had come to mean something to Steve. It felt like… home. Like the way a home should feel, in the way his own never had. It felt lived in, even though it was new. With Wayne’s mug collection and replacement posters tacked up on Eddie’s wall. With music playing or the TV on mute in the living room, coffee brewing in the kitchen because between Eddie’s and Wayne’s work schedule, it was always breakfast time for someone. Steve had felt welcomed there. Safe. Like he belonged. He refused to poison those memories for himself with what was about to happen.

“Stevie?”

Eddie’s voice pulled Steve from his thoughts. He wondered if Eddie had just let himself in or if he’d been knocking for minutes with no answer. Well, Steve figured he could always blame his damaged hearing if Eddie complained about waiting too long.

“Hey Eds.”

Eddie was smiling, warm and easy. Steve tried to freeze the moment in his mind. Sometimes memories were getting lost inside his head- the doctors said it would continue to happen, a side effect of too many head injuries. But Steve swore to himself that he would never let his brain lose this image of Eddie so happy just from arriving at Steve’s house.

Almost as soon as Steve had made a note to remember Eddie’s smile, it vanished. Suddenly, Eddie looked concerned. He approached Steve and put his hands on his shoulders. His long fingered hands, warm, with calluses that that had ghosted over Steve’s arms, his back, his hair- Steve bit the inside of his cheek and pulled himself back into the moment. “What’s up, Steve? You look… less like a ray of sunshine than usual. Something wrong? Is it a migraine?”

Steve stepped back, outside of Eddie’s grip. “No, my head’s fine. I just… can we talk for a minute?”

Eddie sank down on the couch and immediately began fiddling with his rings, his head angled so that his hair was falling in front of his face. “Yeah, of course we can. Um… did I do something wrong?”

His voice sounded so small. Gods, Steve didn’t know if he would be able to do this if Eddie was going to be sad. The whole point was to make Eddie happy- not tonight, of course. Steve knew tonight would sting. But it wouldn’t hurt Eddie. And in the long run, Eddie would be happy. He would be-

“Stevie? You’re sort of scaring me, baby. Did something bad happen? Like, Upside Down bad?”

“No,” Steve answered quickly. He rushed to the couch and sat down, putting his hand reassuringly on Eddie’s knee. (He ignored the voice in his head whispering that this might be the last moment that they touched.) “No, it’s nothing like that. I just-” He had to just do it. He had to put words to what he wanted least in the world, but what he knew was the right thing. “I think we need to stop this thing between us.”

Steve dared to glance up at Eddie, but found that he couldn’t see anything of his expression. His right hand pulled his hair across his face and into his mouth while his left hand fiddled frantically with the rips on his jeans. “Okay.” Eddie’s voice was thick. Was he going to cry? Steve didn’t think this would make him cry. “If that’s what you want, of course, ba- Steve. But is there anything I can do to fix it? I mean, could you maybe tell me what’s not working for you and I can do it better?”

“You didn’t do anything, Eds,” Steve assured him. Eddie had to know that this was absolutely not his fault. It was Steve’s fault, 100%. “It’s just… when two people want different things out of a relationship, someone’s going to end up unhappy. And I don’t want to ever make you unhappy.”

“I’m not unhappy!” Eddie protested. He looked up and even through his hair, Steve could see his eyes were red and wet. Steve looked down at the floor. “Are you unhappy? What am I doing to make you unhappy?”

Steve swallowed past the burning lump in his throat. He really hadn’t expected Eddie to put up a fight. He had expected him to agree, maybe give him a parting hug or maybe say that he was relieved that Steve hadn’t made Eddie have to do this himself. He had hoped that Eddie would say they could still be friends, or at minimum be cool with each other for the sake of the kids. But if this is what Eddie needed from him, he could spell it out.

“You’re not doing anything to make me unhappy. Look, I talked to Robin about this a lot, trying to figure out the best way to handle it. She said I couldn’t keep avoiding it by just wishing that we could stay this way forever. Sometimes, one person in a relationship just expects more out of it than what it is. And if they don’t talk about it, that person is going to get their heart broken. And the other person is going to get sick of them. I don’t want that for us. I don’t want resentment or hurt feelings or- I just think we should stop this where it is. It’s been so great, Eddie.” Steve heard his voice break at that; he hoped Eddie hadn’t noticed. “It’s been really good, but I think we should stop it here before it turns into something bad.”

With his eyes still pointed resolutely at the carpet, Steve could only feel Eddie nod. He heard Eddie take a deep, shaky breath and then felt the couch lift as Eddie stood. “Okay, yeah. Message received. I’ll get out of your hair. Um… bye, Steve.”

Steve didn’t answer. Couldn’t answer. Even with his terrible hearing, every step Eddie took towards the door reverberated through his head and his chest and his heart. He stayed motionless, barely breathing, as the front door squeaked open and clicked shut. It was only when the sound of Eddie’s rickety van faded that he fell forward onto the couch- still warm from Eddie’s body- and allowed himself to sob.

#steddie #stranger things #eddie munson #steve harrington #breakup #breakup fic #miscommunication

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carsonian · 10 months

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Steve/Tony fic recs | theme: "SOFT"

I've read a decent number of SteveTony fics and I wanted to give an indecent amount of love back to the writers who put out such gawrjus pieces. The theme for this list is "SOFT" in capital letters because it's not your average erectile-dysfunction soft but some real silk-scarf soft shit. You know, the classics: the diabetic stuff, the ooey-gooey stuff, the puddle of feelings stuff...

Now I don't want NOBODY saying, girl, I've read that, are you being for real? Because guess what? I am always being for real and these fics are real, and you can always re-read them. So spread the love. Respect!

"There's an App for That" by Annie D (scaramouche) (@no-gorms) - I know you're looking at me and saying, aight look Carsonian, whatchu takin me for? You think I'm some greenhorn mark to put down a flag for SteveTony witout cracking Annie D's stash three times whole? Well, to that I raise: my glass. Cuz samesies. But truuuuust me, this fic is worth the re-read. It is a stroke of genuine AU brilliance that doesn't get the hype it deserves (a billion kudos of hype pls!). Super solid set-up, refreshingly quick lines, the kind of easygoing falling together that is just jazzy to relish. This fic is like a date with an almond huddled inside. Sweet and mushy but with a surprisingly solid bite at its core. Summary goes:

Thanks to the modern gig economy, Steve is the successful owner of a break-up service, i.e. people pay him to break up with their partners for them. One day, he gets the first break-up request for Tony Stark.

😏 Uh-huh. Oh okay. Meet-awkwuuurd time. J.A.R.V.I.S., cue up "Start of Something New" by HSM. 😏

"The First Time I Went Dancing Sober" by schemingreader - This fic is like good wine; it ages like a beauty. This month will make it ten (10!!!) years since it was published but by God does it hold up. It holds me up. Like a firm but comfortable back brace. Summary goes:

Steve Rogers is a great physical therapist who works with sick kids. Tony Stark is a damaged biotech engineering genius who really wants to be one of the good guys.

You.... you know the vibes, don't you? You--uh, you catch the flow? Yeah, you do. C'mon, read this fic and give me a hug, brother. I'll clasp you close and whisper homoerotic sweet-nothings into your ear while we hug, partner. It'll be silly romantic, bro.

"we pick ourselves undone" by laramara (@commandersteverogers) - Another old-but-gold fic. Hang on, read the summary first:

It might appear that award-winning surgeon Tony Stark, the head of neurosurgery at Shield Hospital, well and truly has his life together. Now if he could only figure out how to tell people that his father, world class neurosurgeon Howard Stark, is locked away in a nursing home with Alzheimer’s, devise a way to get Chief Fury off his back for good, and work out what the hell he’s going to do about the weird on-again-off-again thing he has going with the head of cardio, he’d finally have everything sorted.

Now that's what I'm motherfucking talking about. This fic is also ten years old et voilà: a certified historical moment. When I first read this, I thought about quitting fic writing; it's that good. And then I re-read it and life was okay again. Tee El Dee Arr: I want to give this fic a smooch on the mouth and a sincere insurance plan.

"for better or for worse" by earliebirb (@earliebirb) - This is the fic you re-read when you want to remember why you're into Steve/Tony. It's iddy, it's tender, it's achey but beyond all a that, it's SOFT. Soft like whipped cream. Soft like a vanilla ice cream milkshake. Soft like Tony's tush and Steve's tits. R-E-S-P-E-C-T! Summary goes:

Sitting quietly like this, Tony can almost pretend that nothing has happened, that this is just another normal day of Steve waking up in bed next to him. Married and in love with no threat of divorce looming on the horizon. Of course, that is before he catches sight of Steve’s bereft ring finger. He wonders how long it has been since Steve’s ring finger is empty. He wonders if he should start taking off his own, too. He wonders if Steve wants him to take it off.

I know, I know, you're going: Carsonian, wyot the hell, this sounds like angsty stuff. Shhh. Shhhhh. Shhh. I'll get my hand off your mouth just as soon as you start listening. Sport, this is the ooey-gooey stuff. All of the angst is the hot chocolate fudge. It's what makes the milkshake so bloody damn good. Now get da fuck outta here and read this fic!!! Or re-read this fic!!! It's worth it! (Just like Steve & Tony's relationship in the fic, shhh no spoilers.)

Warmest and Brightest by ishipallthings (@ishipallthings) - Naww shuddup I don't want to hear any accusations of favouritism. Yeah I think Jen is aces, but I'm not speaking from a place of bias when I say her fics are aces too. It has been scientifically proven. By Tony. And me. Here's the source. Also, I read this WAYYYY back when, and put it down in my list as "sitcom/hallmark set up with stevetony charm". So if you're into that, you know what to do. And if you're not into that, get da fuck outta here!!! You can not NOT be into that. Okay but if you're seriously not into that, no judgement. Okay, a little judgement. With 100% love. Summary goes:

It’s Christmas Eve, and Tony’s supposed to be getting decorations ready for his and Rhodey’s Christmas bash in their new apartment. Instead, he’s stuck in an elevator with the hot guy from 12A Steve, who doesn’t seem to be in much of a festive mood. It turns out to be a bit of a holiday miracle.

Y'know what else is a miracle? How I got through this fic without kicking my feet up like a gleeful teen in a 2000s romcom. Y'know what else? I totally didn't get through this fic without doing that. Maybe the miracle is in the friends we made along the way 🧑‍🤝‍🧑(that's me n u, babey, holding hands as we watch Steve and Tony debate superior rom-coms into a relationship).

"One Last Christmas" by Captain_Panda - Speakin' of Xmas miracles, here's another fic that is super soft and set during the Christmas holiday period. And YEAH I'll admit it FINE FINE. I'm deffo playing favourites here....but as we all know, I am a Captain_Panda fan first 😤❗, a SteveTony fic enthusiast second. Respect!!! Summary goes:

You're a mean one, Mr. Grinch. The year is 2012. Cuddly-as-a-cactus Tony Stark is throwing a Christmas party for his fellow Avengers. It's all going really well--except for Tony, who is quietly succumbing to his own demons.

You see how the summary says "cuddly-as-a-cactus"? Well, it don't matter because the fic will cuddle you anyway. Tony gets cuddles, we get cuddles, the world gets a cuddle. It's all cuddles in here and you best believe I'm weeping at the slumber party. In this fic, the world is soft and rough-edged and love is worth losing for. It's beautiful. Gawly I'm weeping again. Last time I read this fic, I wrote this in my comment and it still holds true.

And that's all she w"rec"ked!

Go forth: SteveTony lovers, fuckers, ambassadors, champions, perverts, freaks, losers, dreamers, legends! Read, re-read, kudo, comment, spread legs and spread love.

#fic recs #stevetony #if any of the fic writers want me to untag them give me a shout #anyway i know a lot of these are *known* fics but HEY this is a fic REC post #not a hidden gems post #that's a different draft altogether....

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gyuletters · 1 year

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playground love. | beomgyu valentine's day special

♡ pairing: beomgyu x female reader.

♡ summary: you and beomgyu have been friends for so long. how to tell him your feelings changed to such an intense emotions?

♡ genre: 60's fluff.

♡ warnings: none.

♡ note: english isn't my first language. so excuse any mistakes. <3

january 27th, summer of 1968.

"y/n! there is a letter for in the mail, sweetie!"

"i'm coming, mother!"

my father had to go in a bussiness trip to France almost two months ago. he promised me to mail me a letter every month with updates. he knows how much i miss him. i wait every beginning of month for his letter to come in.

"here it is, dearest." - my mother hands me the letter.

i open it so fast that i almost rip the writting paper apart.

"dear, yn ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ red roses are starting to bloom everywhere. the photography i'm sending you, was taken from the garden close to my hotel. the owners are a very respectful family, who lives in the South. they told me that one of their houses here in Paris is avaible for buying. it's a lovely house to live. i can already imagine you living there, my daughter. it's close to the most famous places and full of people, just like the pictures you have, dear. my work here is almost done. in a few more weeks, i'm going home. can't wait to give all the gifts i brought for you. ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ with love, your very much loved father.

i jump out of the couch and run towards the kitchen - "mother, father is coming home in a few weeks!"

"oh my god, y/n! i can not believe it!" - she says almost crying. - "i have to call him right now!"

i run to our backyard and start to call for my childhood best friend.

"beomgyu! beomgyu! beomgyu! my father is coming back!" - i say through the fence.

beomgyu moved to the neighborhood ten years ago. i was 6 years old when i saw a brown haired boy, who is two years older than me, taking boxes from a big truck.

"jesus, y/n! it's saturday! there is no need to scream." - he says coming towards me with a very sleepy face.

"were you asleep? it's almost eleven!"

"there is no school today, mom." - he says sarcastic - "i was hoping to sleep until 1PM, but apparently you had other plans..."

"i'm sorry, beomgyu. it's just that father is coming home after two months!"

"no way! he is even earlier than you thought!" - beomgyu replies while getting excited as well.

"i know! i can't wait for him to tell me everything about the trip. the stores, the cafes, the people... ah, it seems like a dream."

"you're so cute when you get happy."

i laugh a little. i can feel my cheeks getting blushy and try to hide it with my hair.

"doesn't it deserve a hug?" - beomgyu says with his mischevious face.

i jump the fence and wrap myself all over him.

"i'm so happy for you, y/n." - his voice is closer to my ears. his breath tickles my neck and give me a warmth in my stomach.

little by little through our friendship years, i found myself falling in love with beomgyu. at start, i thought it was just a confusing thing. me not knowing how to distinguish my feelings for him.

but, as the time pass, i can only feel my heart calling for him more hopelessly. it's a vicious feeling. i just want more and more of beomgyu to myself.

february 12th, summer of 1968.

"where beomgyu is taking you on valentine's day?" - my friend asks.

"what do you mean?" - i laugh while putting my books in the locker.

"oh, right. i forgot you still didn't tell him that you love him."

"i don't love him. it's just a normal romantic feeling towards a friend... it will go away."

"you have been saying that for 2 years, y/n."

"i know, right?" - i smash my forehead in the closed locker. - "i just can't tell him about it. if i ruin everything? if he thinks i'm crazy?"

"well... at least you've tried."

"you are terrible at helping people."

"look" - she hufs - "he's already going to college. do you really want to wait until he's far away from you?"

the problem is, beomgyu is more than a friend. he is family. we had grown up together through each others eyes.

i remember when he just looked like a silly boy - picking up insets to throw at me and laugh after seeing me scared, spending the whole day together at the pool in a hot day, having sleepovers where we would sneak for my leaving room and try to watch a horror movie.

all of sudden, he became the beomgyu. not just a friend, but a man.

a man i would look and ponder when did he started to get muscles. a man that when was shirtless, i coudn't look directly at. a man the has the most kissable lips i have ever seen. a man who has all the girls falling for him. a man who probably wouldn't look at his friend next door as a possible lover.

he is breathtaking. he looks as angelic as a human should.

keeping my feelings to myself just seem the right thing to do. i can't face rejection coming from him.

he is my first an only love. i know it's silly... i just can't see myself with anybody if not him.

february 14th, summer of 1968 - 02:00 AM.

"hey, y/n? are you awake?" - beomgyu taps on my bedroom window.

i come out of bed and open it. i'm welcomed with his beautiful face in the middle of the night

"it's so late." - i say looking at the clock with a sleepy face - "what are you doing here?"

"get up at 5:00AM. let's do a little summer trip"

i laugh a little taken back by his confident state. - "beomgyu, are you crazy? i can't get out this early!"

"i just want to borrow you for a few hours. it's going to be fast. i promise! i even have my father's car!"

"i don't know, beomgyu... if my parents come looking for me?"

"they won't, y/n. i promise. just come with me."

when he looks at me with those shining eyes, speaking so confidently, talking like i'm already his... i can't resist it.

"okay."

february 14th, summer of 1968. - 5:30 AM.

song's are blasting through the radio. the breeze hitting myself. i never felt more alive.

"i knew you would like it, y/n!" - beomgyu speaks louder than the radio.

"thank you for bringing me!"

i can sense a different smell in the air. something salty and beachy...

"wait! you are taking me to the beach! OH MY GOD!"

beomgyu laughs and says - "i know you love the beach. so i thought of bring you before i went to college."

"oh, right." - i think. - "in a few weeks his moving away and going to college."

"look at the waves! they are so pretty today!" - beomgyu speaks but i can't hear a thing.

how is it going to be without him? i'm so used to see him everyday, to just jump the fence and knock on his window whenever i need him, to the sound of his voice, to the feeling of home around him.

there's going to be plenty of pretty girls there? maybe he's going to find his real love while i'm still here, just paused on time. remanescing our moments as a way to tell my poor heart that we couldn't work out of my fantasies.

"please, don't forget about me." - i pray to lord.

february 14th, summer of 1968 - 5:50 AM.

"i'm going to catch you, y/n!

"only if you want to be soaked!" - i say running to the water.

"i'm not scared of water!" - beomgyu comes right after me.

his laugh sounds like a song i could put on replay. the sun rising light coming little by little iluminanting his golden skin. splashing water on each other. i've never felt more young, more in love.

"i got you, y/n!"

we are laughing so hard that it takes a while to realize we're so close. our faces just inches away.

he has a little mole on his face... i can see it now.

has he been always this handsome from upclose?

"y/n..." - he calls me almost like a whisper. - "you are so beautiful."

my heart sinks. time stops. i don't know if the goosebumps appering on my skin are from the cold or from his sweet and raspy voice so close to me.

"beomgyuithinki'minlovewithyou." - there it is. i said it.

"what?" - he laughs while looking confused.

after taking a deep breath, i repeat it. this time slowly - "i think i'm in love with you. i have been for so long."

a little pause... i can do this!

"you don't need to respond to it. you don't even need to love me back. i know you only see me as your friend, probably like a little sister. but, i can't hold it any longer. i just love you so much, beomgyu-" i'm interrupetd by his kiss.

it takes a minute to understand what is happening. but when i do, there's no reason to hold myself back anymore. i want him, i need him.

the kiss is intense, almost like we're battling for see who can takes full control. he picks me up and i tangle my legs around him.

we are running out of breath but we can't stop. all feelings are been spill out. finally, after years of holding back, i can say how much i need him. even if it's just through a kiss.

the beach waves are cold but his body is so warm. beomgyu keeps hypnotizing me with his lips, with his body, with his hair, with his everything

i don't want this moment to end. i want to engrave the way his lips feels on mine. the way his strong arms are hugging me so tight, almost telling me to never run away. i want to scream to the whole world how much i love him.

"i love you, y/n. i'm yours. my love, my heart, my body. i'm all yours."

♡ a/n: it's my first time writing a fic longer than i actually do. idk if it's good since i've never done it b4. but, i really hope u like this valentine's day special. <3

i tried to mix a little with my personal favorites. also tried to use a different style of writing, but i think it didn't change much lol. anyhow, always remember, luvies: ILYSM!! 💗

do not repost it.

#💋glettrs.©#txt #tomorrow by together #txt fic #txt fluff #txt x reader #txt aus #choi beomgyu #beomgyu #beomgyu fic #beomgyu fluff #beomgyu x reader #beomgyu aus

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bambinotattoo · 9 months

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Welp, I figured I would take some time to formally introduce myself and tell the story about me and diapers!

My name is Eric, and I am originally from Virginia. I have been in Indiana for the last several. While diapers have been a very huge part of my story, I have only been 24\7 for about 18 months. It’s easier to start at the beginning….

Once upon a time, well, pretty much since forever I have been a bedwetter. The earliest memories of getting ready for bedtime and being woke up have been as a diapered cutie. I can very strongly remember being maybe 7 or 8 and my mother walking me into my bedroom to get ready for bed and being told to get on the changing table (yes, I had a changing table even at that age). My mom had tried pull-ups and etc but I was a heavy wetter and our family doctor told my mom that boys sometimes do better in diapers because of their boy parts. Lol. So diapers I was kept in at night, and my mother or father always did their best to make being diapered normal. I was usually put in some Jammie’s and I always wanted a pacifier while being diapered or having my wet morning diaper taken off.

My mom could notice I enjoyed being babied and didn’t mind the extra attention. I am an only child and it wasn’t a big deal. There were a few times when I would ask to be diapered earlier than bedtime and I was to,d. or to use it, and I was aloud. Same thing would go if I asked to be changed into a new diaper in the morning. While my parents didn’t understand, as long as I was still using the potty, they didn’t see any harm.

On the evenings where my parents were out or away, they would have a babysitter take care of my diapering and it wasn’t a big deal. I would always wait for my parents to leave and IMMEDIATELY beg to be diapered and babied. Lol. I must have been maybe 9 or so and the babysitter I had had for several years had gone off to college and the new sitter really didn’t care about my needs. Matter of fact, she would tell me that “if your going to be a diaper boy, you have to use your diaper.” That was my first times using my diaper without need.

Here is when things got elevated or what have you. At around 12-13 I was still wearing diapers at night, but was made to diaper myself, and because of my size I was wearing small adult diapers. At this point I could be on the internet and discovered ABDL diapers and was aloud to pick them out for myself. At the time I was wearing Bambino Babies. I still had my changing table but it was strewn with clothes and etc. My parents wanted to get rid of it, but I always threw a fit. I didn’t want it going anywhere.

Either way, during the fall of that year I started having wetting accidents during the day. Something I had never done. And it wasn’t once or twice and at non embarrassing times. I was having several accidents a week and even had a few at school. Being in middle school and wetting your pants is NOT what you wanted. Especially since one of my babysitters from a few years back had siblings my age and told them about my bed wetting and baby stuff. I was already ruthlessly made fun of and had been for a few years…now I’m wetting my pants.

My mother took me to the family doctor who ran some tests, and sent us to a urologist and therapist. All of them had no real answers. My doctors recommendation was to just keep me diapered and hopefully I’ll grow out of it. Now, despite the fact that I was okay with diapers and baby stuff at night, I was concerned and frightened about being diapered all day. Even at school.

Welp, since we already had diapers, we were all set. But my mother could see I was obviously frustrated and embarrassed. When we arrived home she told me to take a shower and to come to my room afterwards. So I did, and to my surprise my changing table was cleared off and several new packs of diapers were strung about. Since I was a heavy wetter my mom wanted to make sure I was secure and decided to keep me in thick ABDL diapers and also asked me if I wanted her to diaper me. Embarrassed, beat red blushing, and in tears I started to tell her no but instinctively crawled up on the table and felt her slide a paci in my mouth. I couldn’t believe it, an almost teenager was laying on a changing table being heavily powdered and diapered while sucking on a paci. I remember her saying “I’m sure this is just a phase…but it it isn’t, there will be some changes”. I didn’t have a clue what that meant, but I was trying to stay calm and not just all out cry.

About a week later, I was still very diapered 24/7 and was being changed exclusively by my parents. I was still pretty embarrassed but thankfully they were letting me wear pull ups to school and at this point no one knew. Until one fateful day. I was put into my pull up as normal and the day started normal. Breakfast and off to school. During the end of the day I was sitting and working on some type of busy work I felt something warm and familiar…my pull up was VERY wet. Nothing to abnormal but still concerning, the teacher called me to the front to do something and while up front and in front of everyone my worst fears came true. I started peeing, and I was already wet. I hadn’t had any problems thus far, but I knew it was something that could happen. Before I knew what happened I heard some giggles and pointing from the students. I ignored them and went about what I was doing, that is until the teacher looks down and said “oh no Mr Eric, I think you should go to the nurse”. I looked at her confused and then looked down where I could then see and feel that I had leaked. And not just a little leak, I leaked bad. I immediately broke into tears and ran out of the class.

My mother picked me up that day and did her best to make me not think about what had happened. However, at this point, my mom was getting annoyed at my recent wetting and had read an article that recommended that she should embrace the embarrassment and maybe that will make me stop having accidents. So she explained that wearing diapers at my age wasn’t normal. That wanting a pacifier and toddle toys, wasn’t normal. So she was going to treat me like a toddler, if I was going to pee my pants like one. I didn’t know what to think and was silent. There was a part of me that was excited, but I also had just been vigorously humiliated and was very on edge.

My mother had already packed a new diaper bad she had picked up and had me lay in the backseat of her car and ch age me into the thickest diapers I had ever worn. They were the same brand, but the smalls fit, but the mediums fit better and were MUCH more noticeable. She also had put a booster pad in there, from what I could feel I didn’t think I could walk without waddling. I told her I wanted my regular ones and she stuck a paci in my mouth and told me we we going shopping for some clothes that were more diaper friendly.

She bought me a few pairs of overalls, and ordered some onesies, rompers, and bodysuit. I was so humiliated and depressed. On top of the more obvious diapers, she told me she was going to have some babysitters be around for when I get home from school. I opposed and threw a fit, to which I got my fist spanking I nearly 7 years. Tears flowing, ass bright red, and my mother diapering m as a 13 yo. Now the babysitters she hired were hired with the goal of making me even more humiliated and embarrassed. They were all girls that were only a few years older than me, and that I would obviously have a crush on. Talk about infantile.

Things went on that way for a while, I would wake up wet in my onesie and Jammie’s…and changed into my daytime diaper always with a booster and helped into a onesie and a pair of over alls. I was sick to my stomach everyday going to school. Since the accident all the kids were ruthless and made sure I knew I was a baby. Not to mention, the day after the leaking I was dressed in overalls and a noticeable diaper. I had my overalls taken down in front of everyone more than a few times. Each time to my horror, I was wet and wearing diapers that looked like a baby would wear them. It was miserable. I was also made to go to the nurse everyday at lunch to get changed. And all the kids knew it. I would have to make the walk of shame to and from the nurse everyday. Uhg

The babysitters my mom hired was actually the highlight of the situation. They were all friends and could tell how hard all this was for me. They all did their best to make me feel good about the situation and even went over and above just for me. My first ever hand jobs were completed during some of those changes. They would giggle at my little erection and instead of powdering me and closing me up fast, would take the extra time and actually made me feel my age…if even only for a few seconds. That feeling came and went fast as I was against fixed in a thick diaper and kept in nothing but a tshirt.

Wanna hear more?

Want me to elaborate or fill in the gaps?

Then follow and request. There is so much much more.

And again, this is a very true story!!

#ab dl lifestyle #24/7 diapers #ab/dl diaper #diaper bulge #diaper dependent #diaper sissy #diapering #abdlmommy #abdllittle #teenbaby #bed wetter #bed wetting

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bullet-prooflove · 3 months

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BlackIce!Series - Part Three: Check In: Frank Castle x Reader

Companion Piece to Black Ice & Ice Pack

Tagging: @purrrrfect @juliannatryon @beardedbarba @crazy4chickennuggets @wooshwastaken @justreblogginfics @anime-weeb-4-life @pleasurebuttonwrites @annetje @adaydreamaway08 @est1887 @multiflixshelves @thanossexual @bonsaijoons @spookyboogyuniverse @ankhmutes @spaghettificationandpretzels @trublu2u @nu1freakshow @thebaileybugle @kmc1989 @withakindheartx @skyesthebomb @viridianphtalo @yezzyyae @casa-boiardi @lulawantmula @vermillionwinter @trublu2u @lauraaan182 @ghostslillady @@xo-zeze @@destielsdaugther @anoverwhelmingdin @marshmallowflufffox

Black Ice Series:

Part One: Black Ice - Frank rushes home after hearing you've been in a car accident.

Part Two: Ice Pack (NSFW) - Frank loves you for the first time in months.

It’s been almost two months since you last laid eyes on Frank, since he slipped from your sheets whilst you were sleeping and disappeared into the night. It’s not unusual, the real surprise is that he stuck around for six weeks this time. Normally it’s a night or two, no longer than a week.

You’re out for a run in the park when someone falls into step alongside of you. You know it’s Frank, you’d know his presence anywhere. The two of you have a six sense when it comes to each other.

“Castle.” You huff out his name between breaths, keeping your gaze fixed on the bench right straight ahead of you.

“Knee’s holding up pretty well Lieutenant.” He remarks as you slow to a jog.

The truth is it’s aching already. You’ve been pushing yourself lately, trying to get back in the field because being behind a desk is killing you.

“Physio’s helping.” You tell him as you stop alongside the bench, the one where the two of you had sat all those years ago. You’d been a Sergent back then, reading the morning paper and sipping a cappuccino when The Punisher had sat down alongside you and told you Lou Beretti had put a hit a out on you for killing his son during an undercover op.

The two of you had been exchanging information for a couple of years by that point. He got the jobs done that you couldn’t. The law wasn’t infallible, far from it. Sometimes bad men walked free, they went on to kill again, to rape and torture, that’s where Frank came in.

“It was him or me.” You’d told him, pulling up your sleeves so that he can see the scars that transect your arms. He knew what they were, defensive wounds from a knife, he had a couple of his own. “I chose me.”

Kyle Beretti had a reputation for beautiful women and blades, the two interests intersected more frequently than his father cared to admit. You’d seen the bodies, so had Frank.

“Look,” he’d said. “I don’t want to see you dead.”

You’d laughed then and that laugh…

It lit something up deep inside of him, something he hadn’t felt for a very long time.

You weren’t just someone he swapped information with, you were someone he trusted, and humour was the way you dealt with shit when things got tough. The fact he knew that about you was just a testament to how close the two of you had got.

“I’m gonna take care of it.” He’d assured you.

You’d given him that look, the one he’d come to know so well. You were stubborn, you always had been, it’s one of the reasons he’d liked you. You knew who you were, and no one was going to change that.

“I don’t need you to do that.” You’d told him forcefully. “I can take care of it myself.”

It’s an age-old adage he’d heard a million times before and it always ends the same way, with a bullet in the brain. What Lou Beretti had planned for you was much worse, he’d wanted to take you apart piece by piece until you begged for mercy and even then, he wouldn’t end it. He’d keep you alive for days, recording every second of your terror, your agony until your body gave out. Frank couldn’t let that happen.

He'd tried to explain that to you in every conceivable way but you, you were a pain in the ass. You wouldn’t go into protective custody, you wouldn’t take a few vacation days and disappear for a while, you wouldn’t listen to any of his suggestions. It goes round and round until you get up from the bench and walk away.

They come for you that night. You manage to take down two of them but the third gets the jump on you, it ends with a concussion and a spiral fracture in your left arm before Frank gets his ass in there. He has to say he’s appreciative of your work. You’d used the riot shotgun on the first two, gone hand to hand with the third.

When he catches up with Beretti he makes it last, he does the exact same thing the crime lord was intending to do to you. When he’s finished, he sends a bouquet of brightly coloured daisies to your hospital room with a card that says, ‘Rest Easy – F’. That’s how you know he’s taken care of the problem.

“Look.” Frank says interrupting your reverie. “I just wanted to check in.”

You tilt your head towards him. The stubble that lined his cheeks the last time you saw him has flourished into a closely cropped beard. His dark hair’s grown a little long, strands escaping from underneath the charcoal-coloured beanie that’s perched on his head. He’s wearing a grey zip up hoodie over loose running shorts and leggings. The same attire he used to wear to your meet ups.

“The knee is fine. I’m fine. People are still doing stupid shit, so the job is fine.” You tell him, taking a sip from your water bottle. “I think you’re all caught up.”

“Angel…”

He sees the way your jaw clenches at his use of the word. You give him that look, that fierce stare of yours. It causes a pang in his chest because he knows he’s hurt you, and he fucking hates it.

“You know I couldn’t stay.” He says gruffly, tucking his hands into the pockets of his hoodie.

“That’s not the part that gets me.” You tell him, using the back of your hand to wipe the water from your lips. “You stay, you go, it’s part of who you are. I accept that.”

You do, you always have. This thing between the two of you has been going on for a couple of years now, you’ve never once chastised him. It’s the other thing that’s cut you deep, the thing he didn’t do, the thing he normally always does.

“I didn’t say goodbye.” He says quietly, his gaze lowering as he scuffs at the tarmac with his sneaker.

“Yea.” You say, replacing the cap in your water bottle with a click.

He always says goodbye, he has ever since the night he slipped up and called you angel in the throes of your love making. That’s the way he thinks of you, his beautiful, battle-scarred angel, the one that gives a shit about other people, who tries her best to do the right thing. You are the one person he doesn’t disappear on, you may not know where he’s going or what he’s getting up to but he never leaves without kissing you on the lips and telling you goodbye. He opens his mouth to explain but the words, they just won’t leave his throat because that means coming clean, admitting that he’s vulnerable.

To you his silence speaks volumes. You laugh and it’s a harsh, bitter sound that stabs into his chest like a knife.

“I don’t need an explanation,” You tell him, your attention diverting to the path ahead. You have that look in your eyes, that faraway distant expression. You’re withdrawing from him, shutting down. “I think I got it loud and clear. Now if we’re done, I need to finish my run, my shift starts soon.”

“I started to settle,” He says abruptly, reaching out for your hand and clasping it in his. “I started to settle, and I didn’t want to leave.”

“Frank...” You begin but he shakes his head, cutting you off.

“The first thing I did when I heard about your accident was get in the car to drive here, I was in Minnesota. It took me almost twenty-four hours to get back to the city. I couldn’t get through on your cell and I just kept running all these crazy scenarios in my head. When I saw you, I was so fucking relieved, you have no idea…”

Those dark soulful eyes of his meet yours and you are completely captivated, because you had no fucking clue. You remember that night, how calm he was as he stood before you when you opened the door, how tender he had been in the aftermath.

“All I wanted to do was stick around and take care of you, do you know how nuts that is?” He asks you; his hand comes up to clasp your face, his thumb ghosting over the apple of your cheek. “I don’t do that kind of shit and it makes me realise just how crazy I am about you.”

His kiss is soft, tender. It says a thousand things that words just can’t.

I love you; I want you, you’re everything I’ve hoped for, everything I need.

The two of you are far from perfect but you don’t need to be.

It’s messy and it’s complicated but its yours.

At the end of the day that’s all that matters.

“Let’s get you home.” he whispers against your lips. “That knee must be killing you.

Love Frank Castle? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

#frank castle #frank castle x reader #frank castle x you #the punisher

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creativepawsworld · 4 months

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Silence - Chapter 53

Pairing = Thomas Shelby x OC

Summary = It's Derby day. Tommy doesn't want Ana to go but she is adamant. What could possibly go wrong?

Warnings = Language...Grammar...implied sexual assault... guns...violence...Alcohol consumption... Gambling mentioned...

Word Count = 2,655

“I am going to the Derby today Tommy,” I informed him as I finished putting on my red lipstick. “You always swore you would take me to one after you took Grace, all those years ago. Do you remember? You’ve been to many since but with everything that has happened with me, with my brother and my parents you have always made an excuse. But not today. I’m going”

“Stace” Tommy groaned pinching the bridge of his nose with his forefinger and thumb to show his annoyance. “It’s too dangerous, you are aware of what I have to do today and I don’t need to be worrying about you as well”

“You don’t have to worry about me. I will be fine” I huffed putting down my lipstick on my dresser and standing up turning to face him, my bump larger than ever.

“And I said no” Tommy tried to assert some authority over me but I was extremely hormonal. I had turned eight months two weeks ago and I felt like a whale. I had to make several alterations to my clothes which my father helped.

Things were slowly returning to what you could call normality for my parents in some ways. My father could now speak a few words. The pain was still too much for his tongue to speak but it was amazing progress, from not talking at all.

My mother, however, didn’t speak at all but she did return to baking. Something I hadn’t seen her do since James died. I was happy she found something to busy herself with instead of going into herself. What took me by surprise was that most of her bakes went to the men and their families that Tommy had guarding their house.

The Peaky Blinders who not so long ago she despised were now receiving her baked goods. How things change.

“Tommy, I can protect myself. John’s been teaching me how to shoot and I’m pretty good at it” I tell him. I lifted my purse showing him the small handgun he had got for me months ago for protection. “I have this if I need it, I’ll be safe”

“John’s been…” Tommy looked at me his lips in a thin line, a flash of anger in his blue eyes. I could tell he was holding back after stopping himself from speaking. “You’re not going”

“You can’t stop me” I glared. Tommy stopped on the spot looking at me with a dangerous look that would strike fear into most.

“I can and I will” He threatened moving towards me with his index finger pointed straight at me. The very finger he uses in his meetings or with his men to get his way.

“Damn it Tommy” I growled, stomping my foot like a child. “I’m the perfect alibi for you. What’s going to happen when that man is killed? They are going to look for you. We both know Campbell has a problem with you. This, this mission won’t be a simple kill and get away you know this”

“I’m not dragging you into this” Tommy shook his head.

“I already am. The minute I gave you my virginity all those years ago, you dragged me into this. You made me fall in love with you. You proposed marriage to me and got me pregnant. I am involved whether you like it or not Thomas”

“Thomas?” Tommy chuckled smirking as I built up his ego. He loved the idea that a sweet innocent girl from Small Heath fell for the gangster of the town. He loved that it was him I chose out of all the other men. He loved seeing me round and swollen with his child. It just did something for him.

I was his and he knew it.

“Who is going to question a man when his pregnant girlfriend is there to provide an alibi?” I sighed. Tommy walked over to me, placing his hands carefully on either side of my stomach.

“We are going to have to change that” Tommy sighed caressing my bump carefully, his eyes looking into mine deeply.

“Change what?” I asked confused.

“Girlfriend, you need to be Mrs Shelby. The one woman I have by my side” Tommy grinned leaning down, capturing my lips in a soft, yet passionate kiss. “But you're still not going to the Derby” He pulled away with a smirk.

He moved over to the coat hook, putting on his coat and fixing his collar. He put his peaked cap over his head looking over at me with a soft, delicate look.

“I’m just protecting you Stace” He walked over kissing my lips softly before leaving the apartment. No doubt telling the men on the door to watch me and make sure I didn’t leave.

I stood in my spot watching him leave, biting the side of my cheek. I was going to that Derby one way or another.

******

I was quite nervous when I arrived at the Derby in Epsom. I was dressed in a beautiful teal dress with black gloves. A hat over my head as I looked around, completely lost. It was so busy. I was completely out of my element and I felt so alone.

“Ana, Ana dear what on earth are you doing here? Thomas informed me you were staying home today.” Polly had somehow managed to find me through the overwhelming sea of people.

“He decided I was staying home, I wanted to come and see a derby for once in my life before my priorities completely changed. This is for me.” I tell Polly, my head held high as if I was trying to convince not only her but anyone listening.

“Tommy doesn’t know you’re here?” Polly asked, brushing down her white and grey checkered jacket and skirt. She looked delightful today. But there was a darkness in her eyes, a sadness over her entire aura.

“Um no he doesn’t, not yet at least,” I explain as she guides me through the crowd. “But I assume he will at some point”

“You’ve become such a strong-headed young lady the past few years.” Polly chuckled, the smile not quite reaching her eyes. “A match for our Thomas. You keep him right, you hear me?”

“Of course Polly” I smiled softly noticing her odd behaviour. She hadn’t been the same for the last few weeks, not since that night I discovered her in a bathtub in the middle of her living room.

Polly never responded, she just looked around as if she was looking for someone. Following her gaze, I decided to look around myself, seeing Tommy in the distance talking to May Carleton. The horse trainer. I bite my cheek, excusing myself from Polly and walking in that direction.

May was the first to notice me, smiling over at me which caught Tommy’s attention. The minute he locked eyes with me, his tongue swiped along his bottom lip. He wasn't happy to see me.

“I told you not to come.” Tommy pointed that same index finger, he had pointed earlier at me.

“And I told you I was coming regardless,” I tell him. My eyes took in May’s appearance, I couldn’t help but feel jealous of her. Over the past few weeks, it seemed that Tommy had been spending more time with her than me, preparing for this Derby.

Tommy stared at me running a hand down his face in annoyance. He slowly licked his lips, his mind working overtime. I could tell he was trying to find a way to get me to leave but that wasn’t going to happen.

“You stay away from up there” Tommy pointed towards what looked like a small restaurant filled with special forces and army men. “You understand me?” He asked completely ignoring the presence of May which made me internally happy.

“I understand” I nodded, grateful he hadn’t called one of his men to escort me home.

“She can stay with me” May spoke up offering me a small smile. I look over at May before back at Tommy who just nodded at the suggestion.

“I’ll find you when I’m done. Stay out of trouble Stace” Tommy warned walking away, I noticed him pulling on Lizzie’s arm.

He had whispered something into her ear. I trusted Lizzie. I knew she lusted after Tommy and had slept with him before but we had developed a friendship over the years. She wouldn’t hurt me. She was happy with that Italian man, Angelo. At least that's what I'd tell myself.

“So you're expecting Thomas Shelby's child… you must be excited” May asked trying to start a conversation with me. Her eyes fell to my swollen stomach and back up. I could instantly feel the jealousy radiating from her. I wasn't sure if it wasn't because she wanted a child or a child with Tommy.

“Indeed, a baby is a blessing and the fact it’s the man I love baby makes it all the better,” I tell her stroking my stomach. “You never wanted to be a mother?”

“Not right away no” May shook her head. “Then my husband passed and without him making a baby would be impossible” She spoke with a distaste in her tone.

“I, I apologise,” I tell her softly. I held my stomach rubbing my bump. ��Tommy did say you lost your husband. That must be difficult”

“Quite” May nodded “He died in the war”

“I am sorry Mrs Carleton,” I tell her sincerely. I shifted awkwardly on my feet unsure how to get out of this type of conversation. May simply nodded at my condolences.

“Thomas cares about you greatly. I understand a man of his standing in today’s society isn’t exactly trustworthy but despite the social expectations of him, he is loyal to you” May informed me looking down at an information book in her hand. I looked down at the page she had opened, it was a listing outlining the races which would be running today.

“I don’t give him enough credit” I tell her nodding sadly. Over the past few weeks especially, my trust for him was fickle. I felt at times like I had betrayed him. But he always assured me I hadn't. He always had my back.

“It’s hard when everyone tells you differently. But may I suggest, the lack of trust and jealousy you maintain inside will only push him further”

“And into awaiting arms like yours?” I look over at May causing her to chuckle. I could feel my dislike for this woman grow.

“Thomas Shelby would most definitely be a thrill to have in the bedroom” She chuckled “But he isn’t worth waiting around for”

“Excuse me?”

“I simply mean he is always caught up. His mind wanders to the next best thing. He spends more time on business than he does with you I assume. I’m not trying to be cruel to you. Please don’t think I am. But Thomas Shelby appears to be a man of power and control. Never satisfied. Men like that will never be kept. They will continue to want more and more”

I licked my lips slowly as I digested her words. “Tommy is an ambitious man that is true and it's one of the reasons I love him. I do not judge him for wanting more. He wants a better life for his family and his people. He wasn’t raised with money like you so do not try and speak like you know what kind of man he truly is.”

“I meant no harm…” May spoke, her voice breathless as she realised she had insulted me with her words.

“You may think you know him from the way society and the papers have portrayed him. But he is much more than that. He is striving for a better world for everyone who has dirt kicked in their face because they are perceived as not good enough. Something you wouldn’t understand.”

Before May could respond, a gunshot was heard and the panic started. I noticed people running in fear as police rushed towards the direction of the gunshot. I stood frozen for a moment as chaos erupted around me.

I barely had time to think when I felt someone take my arm and pull me away from the madness that had surrounded us. I looked to my right noticing Polly, she marched me along, her eyes staring straight at me as she pulled me from the scene.

“It happened hasn’t it” I whispered, my heart beating widely in fear. Tommy had just killed someone. And I knew that for certain this time. Polly nodded her head pulling me away. I glanced down at her white jacket noticing blood. “Oh my god Polly your hurt”

“It’s not my blood” Polly answered quickly and quietly, holding her arm and black handbag over the red stain as we moved through the crowd.

“What happened?” I asked once we came to a stop just before the racetrack.

“I killed a snake” Polly looked me directly in the eyes. Her tone was cold, with no remorse in her eyes at all.

“Campbells dead?” I whispered leaning into Polly to make sure I knew exactly what she was talking about. Polly answered my question with a quick nod, a sense of what I could only describe as relief changed her face and a small smile tugged on her lips.

Campbell was dead.

******

Later that evening I was at the betting shop. Pacing the floor up and down. Tommy’s family had all returned from the races, even his men but no Tommy.

“Where is he?” I asked for the hundredth time as I walked back and forth along the betting shop floor. My small kitten heels clicked off the wood, like a ticking clock in the silence of the room.

“Charlie and Curly have gone back up to the Epsom to try and find him. He can’t be far” Arthur spoke. He was sat on one of the wooden tables, his feet resting on a chair. His hands were cupped in his lap, offering me a sympathetic smile.

“But he did what he had to do. The soldier is dead as is Campbell. The mission is complete, where did he…where did he go?” I started to panic. “He was supposed to be with you” I pointed to Arthur and John.

“He probably had to tie up a few loose ends. The soldier thing was Irish business, Tommy didn’t involve us in that” Arthur sighed, John simply lit up a cigar, nodding in agreement. He was sitting on a chair, his feet perched up on a table.

“Just relax Ana, Tommy will be back. Today has been a good day. We got our business back and Sabini is no more” John grinned, a big puff of smoke escaping his lips from the cigar.

Feeling a sharp pain, I held my stomach. My nose scrunched up in discomfort and I had stopped walking. I rested my hand on the top of a chair exhaling softly as I rubbed my stomach. I was feeling a strange sensation, almost like a tugging and a pressure at the same time.

“You’re finally starting to relax. That's good to see Ana” Arthur grinned. He placed two glasses on the desk, roughly pouring two large measures of the brown liquid into the glasses. The whiskey sloshing over the sides and spilling on the dark wood. A mess that will not be cleaned tonight.

“You okay there Ana?” John asked getting suspicious. Being a father himself he could tell when something wasn’t right. His feet slipped from the table as he sat up straight ignoring Arthur completely as he watched me carefully. “Arthur go get Polly”

“Why?” Arthur asked completely clueless. He knocked back the large pour of whiskey he made for himself. His eyes glanced over to me and back to John with confusion as John spoke once again.

“We’re going to be uncles”

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