#so it’s more of an impromptu ''I must make this now before I forget!'' post | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

babydarkstar · 3 years

Text

cacoethes

part two: bring your sweet loving

rating: E (18+ ONLY) || pairing: ezra x f!reader || word count: 10.5k

chapter summary: as the night winds down and tensions simmer, we learn more about you, pieces of your past, and your relationship with ezra.

warnings: ezra’s gigantic mouth that won’t shut up (suggestive language) and two criminals not knowing how to act; caretaking, i guess? reader cleans ezra but it’s nothing erotic; SMUT; handjob and graphic depictions of a glorious dick; dirty talk; dubcon maybe bc painkillers but he’s enthusiastic abt it; praise kink; switches having a great time; ezra’s subby in this but i promise he’s a dom too just not tonight; mentions of death, killing, tattoos, scars; mention of past drug use, bad coping mechanisms; mm i hc that ezra is a tiny tattoo guy so there’s that; fluff bc im sweet; author is a southern peach, forgive her if it gets a little slow and twangy up in here

a/n: un-beta’d bc mistakes are sexy. i’ll go back later and fix whatever i find but for now. enjoy. i’m literally just making shit up about this universe as we go but it’s working out for the best so bear with me. lmk if u want me to add u to be tagged here. tagging: @pedros-mustache @jk7789

crossposted to ao3 :) || playlist || one || two || three

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“Here, Cee,” you said, adjusting the threadbare blanket over your cot and splaying a hand over it while she eyed you from across the tent, still standing amongst the carnage of a violent field surgery, “I’ll sleep on the floor tonight.”

The poor girl was scared. Well—not scared, not anymore.

Vengeful, for certain, though it seemed to dwindle with every minute she watched you interact.

Definitely wary of the two of you.

Which was appropriate, given that Ezra had killed her father and left her alone on an uninhabitable moon, only to be scooped up by his partner and deceived into thinking she was safe, and then forced to perform impromptu surgery to hack off an arm. But she appeared more wary to accept help from you than wary of you.

And honestly, if Ezra hadn’t just lost a limb and you didn’t want to hover beside him after not seeing him for a month to make sure he didn’t slip the veil in his sleep or disappear beneath your fingertips—and if you weren’t trying to earn her trust, you’d have made her take the floor.

But things were different now, they might always be. She had saved his life. You owed her your cot to sleep on.

“Wait,” Ezra said, swallowing thickly as he blinked, seeming to just process the words you had spoken, “You think so little of me that I’d let you sleep on the dirt after the day you’ve had? Now, I agree that our guest should find comfort in a cot of her own, but I will not deny you the simple respite of sleep. That would prove me an unworthy companion.”

“Ezra,” you said, giving him a look of incredulity that seeped into your tone, “You can’t be serious.”

He eyed you and clenched his jaw, still stomaching the fact that he had one less limb to worry about, and a bunch more problems to deal with. It was a look that told you he was not arguing with you, you were going to sleep on the cot. He would not be coddled like a child just because he lost an arm.

Which was, in itself, ridiculous. You didn’t plan to coddle him—you weren’t the type, not really. But. He’d lost a fucking arm. But he was also still delirious from the anesthetic, so that didn’t help his desire to prove something to the universe.

“You’re taking the cot, I’m not having this conversation,” you said, wiping his sweaty brow with your sleeve, “Tap into the ruthless outlaw inside of you and take it without regret. You know I hardly sleep anyways, I’ll live without a bed for the night.”

“Then I must insist you share it with me, precious angel,” he sighed, and you could almost see the cogs in his head turning as his distant gaze darkened into something hungry, “I’ve longed to feel your body pressed against mine since I left with Number Two. The divinity of your skin.” He hummed, eyes fluttering shut, “More…more precious than the ore we risk our lives for. Sweeter than fruit. Fresher than a rainstorm.”

“Ez,” you warned, snapping a glare at him.

“Your body…so tender, warm,” he continued, entranced in his own fantasy, not even hearing you when you warned him yet again, “All soft and pliant beneath my touch. It has been far too long since we partook in a pleasure as indulgent as one another—before our partnership with Two, if I can recall. Grant me heaven tonight. I deserve the satisfaction of watching you drip honey for me—”

“Hey! None of that,” you snapped, cocking an eyebrow—and fighting the flutter in your chest and the heat tingling down your core, “There are young ears present, Shakespeare Erotica. Not to mention young eyes.”

You would do no such thing with him as long as this teenager remained in close quarters and under your care. He turned to look at Cee, as if he’d forgotten all about her for a moment. Or maybe it was that he didn’t care. Bastard.

“I’m okay as long as you guys don’t fuck in front of me,” Cee sighed, resigned to have dealt with too much in her past to be worried about flirting—no, verbal-fucking.

“We won’t be doing any of that,” you assured her, giving Ezra another pointed look before slinging his arm around your shoulders and helping him to the cot. He grumbled incoherently, moaning and groaning the few steps it took to ease him down into the squeaky frame.

When you finally got him down—forced him to lay down—he let out another soft whimper of pain, followed by your name. “Don’t go.”

Brushing the hair off his sweaty forehead, you bent down to press a kiss there, “M’right here, Ez. Rest. I’m gonna clean you up, okay?”

It was the least you could do—and that way you could take inventory of every inch of him to ensure he didn’t have any other wounds hiding and festering and threatening his life. Just as this wouldn’t be your first time tending to him while he laid incapacitated, he’d done the same for you plenty of times. There was very little, if anything at all, the two of you hadn’t seen of each other. Vulnerability had another name here: normalcy.

“After—” he rasped up at you, coughing and then righting himself, “After we find our way off this Kevva-damned moon—which we will—I understand if you no longer deem me…worthy of your affections. It’s the only explanation I can find for your denial of my offer to dote on you. I only pray you make good on your long-standing promise to drop me where I stand should I ever disappoint you, dear heart of mine.”

Okay, you didn’t know where all the insecurity and sentiment was coming from, especially hearing it from the mouth of your dear old confident mean-streak Ezra, but he couldn’t possibly be serious. It made you ache to think that he didn’t trust you to stay with him, that he viewed himself as lesser because he lost his arm. Well, he was lesser, but only by mass.

Also, really? The only explanation he could find for you not wanting to sleep with him was that you hated him and didn’t want him because of his injury? He couldn’t think of any more glaringly obvious reasons, those of which had just been pointed out to him?

With a sigh, you brushed your thumb across the silvery scar on his cheek, “Rest now, chatterbox. I’ll be here when you wake up—and every morning after, for as long as I can. Only death could pry you from me, and me from you. You’ve got me, forever….I still see you as you are—a hundred percent you, a hundred percent mine.”

The words felt foreign on your lips, but he was bound to forget them the moment he fell asleep, so you didn’t feel as weird waxing poetic right back at him. The man had rubbed off on you in more ways than one. You normally didn’t speak to one another so frankly—at least, you didn’t, given the nature of what it meant to care out here and how you’d already unofficially established that you two were something more—but tonight you couldn’t fucking help it.

Ezra leaned into your touch, pawing at it with his hand, grabbing onto your fingers and kissing into your palm. A dull smile poked at his mouth and he let it engulf him. “Quite the charmer you are, siren.”

You didn’t respond, only half-smiled and wriggled—reluctantly—from his grasp to grab a few clean cloths and fill a bucket with water. After squirting the sanitizing solution in the water, you simmered the lights down to the lowest setting, to where your eyes had to adjust for a moment before you could make your way across the tent. His gaze bore into you—no, both Ezra and Cee watched every move you made; one in lazy admiration and the other in curiosity.

“Do you need me to put a drape over the post? I’m strippin’ him,” you asked Cee as you slung Ezra’s clean shirt from off the drying line onto your shoulder—you smiled at the floor, thanking yourself from hours ago for deciding not to burn it. You grabbed the bucket and tottered over to him, nodding at him to scoot. He obliged, giving you room to sit by his hip so you could ease his clothes off.

Cee shook her head when you looked to her for a response, opting to sit on your cot facing away from you with her nose in her book, so you shrugged and tugged the fabric off of Ezra in slow, deliberate motions, wincing every time he grunted.

As you took the time to clean off the grime and dirt and sweat of the Green, he told you about running into Cee and her father Damon; how he tried to take his entire harvest from the few cycles he’d spent with Two; about Two’s untimely, irrational outburst that cost them their life. About the Queen’s Lair and the mercs, and the plan to ravage and plunder and take it all for themselves. You thought the Queen’s Lair was a rumor. Not even a rumor—a myth, a legend, something fabricated by desperate fools with hazy minds of dust and their eyes set on fortune. But Ezra told you he’d seen part of it marked on Cee’s map, that her father was contracted to help extract the deposit. Cee even pulled her map out to point to the marked areas, albeit with clinical movements and short words.

So you made a plan to head out at first light, with the trip taking most of the daylight, and they’d be cutting it close but there was no way you’d let Ezra hike so many klicks in his state—not without a few hours’ rest first.

After you’d managed to clean his legs, his hips, his feet and get him into something more comfortable than compression pants, you moved to his torso and traced over each scar marring his skin, each jagged edge where something hadn’t healed right or wasn’t stitched properly. He’d lost some weight under the harsh conditions of the Green—you both had. But he still held onto muscle from the toil that came with survival on such harsh terrain; and he was naturally broad, he always would be, which made him sturdy.

Your fingers ghosted over a few microtattoos he’d gotten; one beneath his ribcage, one on his hipbone, and the one you’d given him yourself on his lower sternum. That one, as you brushed over it with a wet cloth, never failed to make you smile. A sad smile, but a smile nonetheless.

A tiny, unfilled heart, a mere outline, barely a centimeter in size. It was messy, simple, done in minutes. But it meant something, meant exactly what you’d never quite been able to voice.

My heart is yours. Take it.

You’d done it one night when the two of you had gone on a two spin bender, which happened more towards the end of your glory days, when the drugs came easy and heavy and the illusion of time slipped by like sand on the wind.

Any time someone hired your services as cleaners, it took a toll. They didn’t do it often because of that, but the payout was worth the work. No matter how many times you swore you would never do it again, you went back. Because it was hard to ignore the way it felt to flood a deserving someone’s mouth with the taste of their own blood, or to slip a knife in between their ribs and let it slide like butter and watch the light die. It was hard to ignore that you liked it, especially when it was so violent—one of the worst sins to commit, and you enjoyed it.

The act of killing had become cathartic for you. It made you feel more alive, reminded you that you had a beating, bloody heart, and a brain, and veins that pumped blood, and muscles that tore apart and rebuilt themselves stronger. Killing came easy when you didn’t know the target. It felt like a game.

Ezra didn’t enjoy it as much as you did—not to say he didn’t enjoy it at all, for he most certainly did. But he didn’t process it the same way you did. He saw killing as a means to survive and a means to get where he needed to go. He enjoyed turning it into a game, making fun out of whatever circumstance presented itself.

But that one—the last one—it had gone wrong. Messy, slow, noisy, choppy. There was only supposed to be one person in the house: typical target, a man who owed the wrong people a whole lot of money and refused to pay up.

One man.

One man was all you’d expected.

One man was all you’d been instructed would be in the condo.

He went down easy enough, quiet enough—Ezra snuffed him and stuffed him and you’d made to transfer his points into the right pockets.

And that was that.

They had tossed the bodybag over the high-rise balcony and into the pits of the bottomless highway next to the building, with a blinker-bomb inside just in case.

That was that.

Except it wasn’t, it was so fucking far from it.

Ezra, being himself, had wanted so bad to sneak in a quickie before heading back—an unholy, immoral ritual you two had initiated, to fuck where you killed—and who were you to protest? Who were you to say no to pretty words and soft eyes glittering with an untamed wild? To say no to the hands that already ripped at gear and pushed beneath underwear just to get a taste—you couldn’t, it was impossible.

Fresh off a high of adrenaline, pulsing with nervous energy—he was always so good, he always got you right where you needed and then that much further.

And Ezra—being himself—could not keep his fucking mouth shut. The stereotype about men holding in their moans, about them never whimpering or whining or groaning or grunting—yeah, that was a load of Bearkie-shit.

Maybe it held true for some men, but.

Not your Ezra. Not even a little bit.

He talked like heaven’s mouthpiece—or maybe the devil, given all the sinful things he’d whisper to you in the crux of any given night. He let loose whatever noise he deemed necessary to make.

They’d only just made it to the dried, bloody stain on the carpet (a bed on which to copulate), knocking over a floating hilolamp and pulling a chuckle from your paramour, when a shout rang through the apartment and shattered your moment into a thousand pieces.

It was only supposed to be one. One man.

Instead, you were met with another man who you’d later learn to be his brother, the target’s mother, and his pregnant wife.

The man held onto some type of curved sports bat, keeping it up threateningly as if warning you of something imposing. Ezra didn’t hesitate to shoot him in the head, not even bothering to get up from where he’d pressed his hips between your legs. But then you’d had to go and check the other rooms, effectively killing any mood the two of you had shared.

Because fuck, where the men had no fight in them, the women wouldn’t go down without a struggle. Or maybe it was that you pitied them, and it distracted you. They’d already peeked their heads out from behind the door of the master bedroom, worried and doe-eyed and determined.

Maybe if they hadn’t seen your faces—if they’d still been asleep while you swept for warm bodies after the first assailant—maybe they’d have gotten out with their lives. But who were you kidding? You killed without thought. You’d likely have put a pillow over their heads before aiming your thrower and firing twice for good measure, had you been sharp and not distracted by a tongue in your mouth.

Instead, Ezra had the audacity to try to bargain with them. Something about having a soft spot for mothers—his own having been a beacon in his life until she left him orphaned as a young boy. He made it a point not to kill women and children. It was one thing in which he remained unwavering. (He’d kill a grown woman if she gave him reason to, like he had on Exon-5, but that was another story for another time, and a different circumstance which called for such measures, namely that of protecting you.) But he should have known better, he should have known not to try something like that. He should’ve known that he’d have to let go of the final shred of morality he held onto.

So Ezra took down the old woman in a way you still have yet to ask about and don’t care to know; and you’d ended with the pregnant woman choking on her own blood when you twisted your knife into the dip of her throat—and you felt awful about it after watching her crumble beneath you, but she’d hit you upside the head with a thick textbook of outdated skimmer-craft modules and it made you see red among pinpricks of stars.

And that night, after all was said and done they’d spent a fortune on getting high—just to forget, just to be okay.

That night they’d locked themselves in a self-imposed prison of satin sheets and destructive tendencies. Two days buzzing with no food, little water, just him and you and needles and spoons and eyedroppers and blades and pills. Like you couldn’t breathe if he didn’t fill you with all of him, you wouldn’t be able to stand upright if he took his hands off you and stopped letting you flood your veins with a chemical glow. Heavy eyelids, messy sex, raw arms and red eyes.

It felt fucking awful, coping that way, but it felt too fucking good and it made you forget about the lives you’d taken in (somewhat) cold blood.

So after sprawling beside him on the gigantic plush bed with his hand ghosting over your spine, you’d found a part of yourself snagged at the corner of this wild-eyed man’s tar-black soul, and you had thought about what could have happened in an alternate universe.

A moment when he was the target, you were (somehow) the pregnant wife, and you watched him die before succumbing to the dark of your own soul escaping you. And it made you desperate to cling to him as he was in the moment, desperate to know that he was yours and you were his. It was then that you’d asked him if you could mark him. Claim him, to know that he wouldn’t leave you like that, and if he did, he’d have a piece of you everywhere. He’d go down with a piece of you.

Ezra had been delighted, of course, as he was always one for symbolism and deeper meaning even if he didn’t quite understand the rhetoric. And it wasn’t the first time you’d marked each other, just a different time with a different meaning. So he let you dip a sterile needle in ink and plunge it into the tender skin of his chest.

You had one too, a heart on your sternum. Nestled between your breasts, just close enough to your heart to feel like it mattered, like it meant that he felt the same. But you didn’t even let yourself go that far—you two were doped up and delirious and he enjoyed marking you in any way he could, so an opportunity to stick and poke his way further into your skin than he already had was an opportunity he could not pass up. At least, that was how you saw it. Nevertheless, it made you happy to see it there on his chest, and to have one that matched.

Ezra’s soft voice snapped you from the memory.

“What’s crossed your mind to make you so delicate in your touch, so solemn in your stare?”

You realized you had stopped your ministrations and had planted your palm on his chest, staring just over his shoulder and onto the canvas beside him. With a careful hand, you resumed gentle motion over his pecs, up his clavicle, his throat.

“Thinking about Beta-Mobilia,” you whispered, unable to meet his eye, “And after.”

“Mm,” he grunted in recognition, the vibration tickling your fingertips, “Regrettable night. Unavoidable, necessary. But I dwell in shame identical to yours.”

“I don’t deserve to be here after that. I didn’t deserve to live after the Exons, The Grime. Why am I still alive?”

“We’ve discussed this in great length by now, siren. Don’t doubt your existence. It’s beyond sense, beyond comprehension.”

You nodded, still unable to look at him. But then he latched onto your wrist, brushing his calloused thumb over the delicate skin there, and this time you couldn’t keep your gaze away from the soft smile that begged to form on his lips.

“And I appreciate your tender care, wildfire,” he hummed, eyes glittering up at you like two dark pools of amber, “Where would I be without it? Mmm…mhm. Dead, likely. Or bitter. Wicked with taciturn rage. No meaning could come from that.”

“You, bitter and unspeaking? Unthinkable, I’d sooner pronounce you dead,” you drawled, thankful for his kindness to grant distraction, and he granted you an eye-roll. But his expression softened when you sat him upright and maneuvered behind him, wiping down his back in gentle strokes. You folded the cloth over once the side turned brown with grime, and moved up to his neck, scrubbing over his shoulders and giving short strokes down his nape and behind his ears.

“So you planned to go ravage the Queen without me, huh?” you asked quietly, irked that he hadn’t even come to find you before setting out on that venture, “Planned to leave me to rot on the Green, take the money for yourself and steal away with the girl.”

Ezra sighed, and you could see from behind his shoulder how he worked his jaw, formulating what to say.

“Understand that I do nothing without you willingly. Birdie over there’s about as fleeting as a real one. But trust that I planned to come get you—I’d never leave you stranded. I just couldn’t introduce another person into the threadbare alliance I had forged until the time was right.”

“She likes me,” you countered, smiling over at Cee, who now laid with her back facing you as her ribs contracted with the first breaths of sleep. A sign of trust. You didn’t know when exactly you’d earned it, but you’d accept it nonetheless. She had also taken both of your throwers (something you protested and Ezra waved off), so maybe that helped.

“No doubt—there’s plenty to like about you.”

Ever the flatterer, even when delirious with pain.

With a coy smile, you scrubbed over his head and then his face, careful to avoid his snapping mouth that reached out ever so often to nip at your hand—there was that playfulness, the natural effervescence of his presence. When you decided your work was done, you eased him back down on the cot and he allowed it with no protest.

You fluffed his pillow and moved the book you’d stashed beside it. He turned his head and pressed his nose to the pillow, grunting in mild appreciation.

“Smells like you down here,” he remarked with a half-smile, eyes drooping, “You sleep on my cot while I was away?”

“I missed you,” you whispered, nodding, just now aware of how much his presence affected you. To think that you had resolved to try to move on without him—it seemed ridiculous now.

“I missed you,” he returned, “You haven’t the slightest idea how much I wanted you beside me. Number Two was a fond ally but not a companion. Nothing like the banter we exchange, nor the secrets we share.”

“They never talked. I imagine your time away was just as lonely as mine.”

“Absolutely. I regret agreeing to leave with Two. But you know we couldn’t have trusted them to stay at camp while we went off—not absolutely. Not when they’d never spoken a word,” he chuckled and then coughed, a quiet rumble you felt against your leg as it zigzagged through his chest.

Thank Kevva you had a plan to leave now. The spent filter had taken a toll on Ezra—and it wasn’t even his to begin with. He insisted on giving you his when the one your new suit came with was almost completely used up.

Fuck the man for caring about you; he’d gone soft during your time on the Green, and you hated how much you loved it. Hated it because he needed to focus on himself, needed to stop putting you before him. Hated it because every day it made you feel like somehow, he loved you back. That somehow, he thought of you as more than just a constant in his life, more than a body to fuck and a brain to pick.

You’d grown used to each other. But his unpredictability oozed into every aspect of himself, every nook and cranny of his life, and you were too worried about fucking up a good thing over a simple conversation. All it took was one sensitive topic breached and you’d surely find yourself shit out of luck. He was all you had left of the scraps of a fucked up life. Without him, you’d make do but not without a struggle and not without reluctance. Some part of you knew he’d be the same even if he initiated a split.

The thought had you hurrying to tug his shirt on before gathering the cloths and scurrying to place the bucket near the front of the tent.

And you shouldn’t have been so scared to be honest with him—the two of you rarely kept things to yourselves. But to love someone so fully within your heart, to never want to be away from them, to never grow tired of their presence no matter how tedious they may be or frustrating they could get, it scared you.

“A kiss for the wounded?” Ezra asked, brown eyes wide and mouth pouty enough to break you from your racing mind. You softened then, padding back over to him on tiptoe and settling back at his side for a brief moment.

With a gentle smile, you leaned down to grant him a kiss to his lips—the first one you’d shared with him in fuck knows how long. Too long, that was for sure, because when your lips notched with his chapped ones you melted, every worry and every qualm simply washed away in a swirl of pink pleasure.

You couldn’t help yourself—an indulgent, quiet moan pooled in your chest and slipped from your throat before you could stop it, and he hummed right back when his tongue pushed between your lips and you let him devour you. Always the ravager, ever a greedy bastard when it came to his pleasure, he licked up into your mouth and tangled his tongue with yours. It took very little for you to melt right into his chest, pressing your own against him and whimpering when he sneaked his hand up the hem of your shirt to rub circles over the skin of your back. You remained sloppy and almost lazy but intentional as you held either side of his nape and toyed with the strands of his still-damp hair, pouring yourself into this kiss like you’d never kiss him again.

Fuck. Fuck, you wanted him so bad. You missed this man with every vibrating inch of you. You missed his body, you missed his voice calling to you from the very depths of himself, you missed everything about him, and you needed him as close as possible. Closer than close, you needed him.

But fuck. You couldn’t. When you pulled back for air, it didn’t surprise you when he pressed his palm flat on your back to keep you from moving too far.

“Mm, baby—you’re divine. I ache for you,” he all but whimpered into your mouth, breath brutally hot and heavy as he fed you his soul, “Come sit down on me—come take what’s yours. I want to feel you strangle me, show me just how much you—”

“No, Ez,” you cut him off in a biting whisper, lips kiss-swollen, hating how, if there had been literally any other person in the tent beside you, you might’ve taken him up on the offer, “I want to, I promise you that. But she’s a kid and I have limits—one of those limits is fucking in the same room as one.” You glared at him with half a heart, then leaned down to run the tip of your nose along the curve of his ear, smiling when he shivered, “I swear, once we get out of here I’ll make it up to you so many times you’ll forget your own name. You get first choice—however you want me, I’m yours to take.”

“Fuck—alright, I apologize for my eagerness,” he smiled, tilting his head to kiss your forehead.

“But,” you whispered, your heart racing as you glanced over to be sure Cee had fallen asleep before inching up to look back into his eyes. Fuck it, he deserved it. “If you stay quiet, I’ll take care of you right now.”

His eyebrows raised in deft interest at your offer.

“Will you let me take care of you, Sailor?”

Ezra would never admit it, and you’d never tease him about it because it made you feel some kind of way—but he fucking adored when you used his callsign. You were his siren, after all. Only made sense for him to draw to you like a dying man at sea when you called for him. You used it rarely aside from in the field, opting for your preferred chatterbox—because he was more that than anything else—so it came as a treat when you decided to pull it from your bag of tricks.

“I can hardly refuse such a tempting offer.”

“Quiet, though,” you reminded him, tiptoeing your fingers across his chest and tugging the waistband of his pants and his underwear down. Just enough to spring his cock free, which was already hard and leaking for you.

Fuck, he was such a gorgeous sight, and you couldn’t help the urge to cup his balls and nudge them free too, to admire every glorious inch of him.

Spreading your fingers out over his groin through the coarse curls gone wild with mistreatment, you paid extra attention to the white patch of hair ghosting over the base of his cock and spreading out near his abdomen before stopping abruptly on the left and diverging back down into dark brown. You remember when you’d first noticed it and had all but squealed in delight.

Every bit of him was a pleasant surprise, just as you’d found yourself more than eager to let him ruin you for anybody else with the sheer size of him.

Nobody fucked you like they were dying and you were salvation; nobody but him. And shit, did he tear you open. As if he’d carved a space inside of you just for him, each time he’d leave you with a hollow ache that only he could sate.

“Baby,” you purred in a whisper, kissing his hipbone and then leaning up to wrap your hand around the girth of him, rubbing your thumb over the weeping red of the head, “You’re so pretty for me like this.” Forever a glutton for compliments, he whimpered his soft appreciation and you hushed him accordingly. He was so thick, so big that you struggled to touch the tip of your middle finger to your thumb, so long that if you had planned to swallow him down tonight, you would’ve been needing your hand to help. But tonight you could not risk the absolutely filthy noise of you gagging on him; he’d likely cum faster and in less time to worry about waking up a certain tentmate, but you wanted to watch every muscle in his face twitch, wanted to see him take his pleasure unobstructed by your tears. This way was quieter.

So with that thought in mind, you shifted to straddle one of his thighs so you could watch him without tiring your hand in an awkward position. Then you let a string of spit drool down and over him and you gave him a twist and then more, sharp and sudden and fast in your movements as opposed to the slow, appreciative way you’d unsheathed him.

Ezra hissed out a curse, bucking up into your hand, “Shit, darlin’—“

Arching an eyebrow, you halted your work on him immediately. His pulse beat through the throbbing vein jutting out

“What did I tell you?” you snapped. With your free hand you reached up and wrapped your fingers around his neck, feeling the column of his throat contracting as he swallowed. Wide brown eyes looked up at you, a tinge of amusement in their stare.

“Are you gonna be good for me?” you asked in a low rasp, tightening your grip on his neck and giving him a little shake before going slack again, “I don’t wanna hear a single word come outta that pretty-boy mouth. If I do, I’m blue-balling you. Fair?”

Ezra nodded, his gorgeous fat mouth blessedly shut for once.

“Good boy,” you cooed, kissing him before forcing his jaw open and spitting in his mouth. It would’ve been cruel but you meant it so affectionately, and his gentle moan told you he was more than willing to accept it.

You felt his cock twitch beneath your fingers and you simpered, giving a little shimmy of your shoulders in appreciation.

Controlling this stubborn man, resorting him to silence made you feel powerful. It made you feel respected, worshipped; if the man who never shut up and always called the shots would gladly take the backseat and grant you the power to take charge, that meant more than you could wish for.

So you resumed pumping his cock, working him with both hands and then switching to hold onto his throat again before going back to two hands. The act still made quite some noise—filthy and wet and sloppy—but at this point you were less concerned about it than you had been prior. When you decided, despite his tip dripping precum, to spit down onto him again for the fun of it and twist him with a gentle tug, he couldn’t stop the whine that left him even with his bottom lip pulled between his teeth. It had you darting to clamp over his mouth, shooting daggers down at him as he stared up with a silent apology in his eyes, one you might have taken as genuine if not for the way the brown of his irises had disappeared into black, blown out with lust and glassy with pleasure.

“If you’re gonna cum, let me know so you can do it in my mouth. I just cleaned you up and I’m not doing it again.”

The last bit came out harsher than you meant but he took it all the same, biting back a grunt in the form of a sharp exhale as he twitched violently in your hand. Yeah, he didn’t really need to let you know when he was about to blow; you knew him too well. At that, you took it upon yourself to remove your hand from his mouth in favor of scooting to lean down and put your mouth over his angry, swollen tip, flinching at the way the frame creaked but ignoring it and opting to swirl your tongue over him instead.

“There it is,” you whispered with an arguably evil smile—quickly, before pulling him back into the heat of your mouth, resuming your work and grunting when he bucked up into your mouth, chasing the high you were drawing out of him.

Ezra came with a muffled, broken sob, his face buried in his arm as he bit down on his bicep, flexing and squeezing his fingers. A thick stream of his cum hit the roof of your mouth and you indulged him, taking him in further so you could swallow everything he gave you. Ropes and ropes and ropes of cum, like he hadn’t let himself get off in so long, like he’d been saving all of it for you. The thought made you whine around him, and you pulled off when he finished, flashing him your dripping tongue with his spend still on it and drawing it back in before any of it could spill.

“Holy fuck, baby,” he sighed, letting out a quiet, breathy laugh as he tugged on the front of your shirt to kiss you, tasting himself on your tongue.

This time when you pulled back and smiled, you granted him a toothy grin, goofy and knowing. It took you a minute not to giggle like a little kid as you carded your fingers through his hair. He grinned right back, still catching his breath. To you, he was gorgeous, inside and out, flaws and all. You wanted to fuck him right then. You wanted to make love to him, to let him fill you entirely and to sob into his mouth, showing him everything you couldn’t tell him.

“Get some sleep,” you settled on instead, slipping off the cot with little grace after replacing the waistband of his pants, “We head out early tomorrow.”

“Hey now, what about you?” Ezra asked, brows drawn together in concern that you wouldn’t find the same enjoyment he did.

“You’ll just owe me.” You winked then, and gave him one last kiss, which he hummed into with a great appreciative rumble.

Then you pressed your forehead into his, “Mine—you’re mine. Never leave me again or I’ll hunt you down and kill you myself. You’re everything.”

Because he was.

“Nothing without you.”

That was his response, always always always. To hear it again pricked tears in your eyes, so much so you squeezed them shut.

And once again, you caught yourself wanting to say it. This time it had ghosted in your throat, almost making it into the curve of your mouth for you to hold its shape and give voice to a thought. But you stopped it before it could get far. Those three words, the same ones that now haunted you since you’d decided to indulge in every reminiscence involving them. Somehow he had come back to you, a feat which could not be commended enough, but now you ached for him—yearned for him even stronger than if he had well and truly died.

As you settled down onto the floor beside him, those three torturous words surfaced into a memory. The one that, among other fears, made you ever so hesitant to admit just how much you loved him.

————————————

“—In that vein, I don’t find myself in particular need of a great, star-shattering love story. If love is all-encompassing, I can do without the obstacle. Romanticizing my life and its quarrels is satisfaction enough.”

You didn’t know why you were still listening. You just knew that if Ezra kept it up, you’d find a way out of this cell just to break into his and strangle him. Anything to get him to shut the hell up. Banging your head methodically against the wall that separated the two of you, you didn’t even try to hold back your groan of displeasure as he rambled on.

“Now, don’t doubt my skill in worship. I have plenty of practice in the art of copulation”—you could hear the shit-eating grin on his face—“To say I haven’t affixed my interests on one soul or another at some point in time would ordain me a liar. I simply prefer to remain lovers in action…and not in name nor feeling. Companionship…yes, it’s something we all yearn for. It can’t be helped. A warm body, a brain to pick. All wonderful facets to enjoy for the sake of one’s own baser desiderata. But—“

“Shut up,” you bit out through gritted teeth, tugging at the roots of your hair when he kept going and you had to repeat yourself, “Shut up, you goddamned chatterbox. I don’t give a fuck about your love life. Why are you even talking about this?”

A brief silence occupied the space, as if he was thoroughly perplexed by your outburst. Then he let out a huffed laugh, amused.

“You inquired about the specifics of my occupation, little thorn.”

Every time he used that nickname for you—the thorn in my side—it made you bristle. Especially when he used it almost affectionately, soothingly, full of calm and charm that had you balling your fists and pricking the skin of your palms with your fingernails. You despised him, and he treated your existence as a joke, or as a little pet he would grab from its cage and admire before tossing it back and neglecting it until he deemed its presence acceptable again. Everything was funny. Everything could be laughed at. Sometimes you didn’t mind when the guards came to beat him bloody; it made him shut up, whether from pain or because he had passed out.

“Prospecting has nothing to do with love,” you snapped, shoulders tense despite the ache in your body. If these fuckers holding you captive didn’t kill you, the stress of surviving next to this fucker surely would.

“No, it doesn’t,” he agreed, suddenly serious, “Love for others, at least. Love for the dig, love for the hunt and the adventure—that’s a different narrative altogether. Which is why I deemed it appropriate to explain such measures. The lifestyle I settled for is no small undertaking. It comes with sacrifice.”

His condescension was unintentional but still stabbed and poked at you like keepers at a circus.

————————————

It comes with sacrifice. That it did.

That long-ago night haunted you to this day.

But Ezra had his mind focused on softer dreams as he broke you from your self-destruction once more.

“Nights like these make me keen to hear you sing for me again,” he lilted out through the dark, a reminiscent simper pulling at his mouth and crinkling his eyes as he shifted to look down at you, “The melody of your voice haunts the halls of my midnight reveries. But it is such a sweet possession—as though I willed a ghost to enchant me with her gift. A siren indeed. Lure me into the sea of your deception, try to pull me under like the rest of them. But not me. No…not me—I float like driftwood in the breeze…follow the tides of your affection. Somehow I remain unscathed, and you lap at me in gentle waves.”

“Such powerful words from a man who should be asleep,” you chuckled quietly, pressing your lips to the back of his hand where you held onto it now, fingers laced.

“I am but a vendor of poetry. And you, a weaver of melody. Sing for me, siren,” he murmured, his voice thick with the drowsy pull of lassitude. He hadn’t asked that of you in so long you had almost forgotten what it felt like to hear it. Almost. And you would have agreed to it, but—

“No, the girl, she—“

“I don’t mind,” Cee interrupted, quiet and soft. It surprised you; you thought she had fallen asleep—you didn’t want to wake her with your singing. And then you were—

Shit. You sincerely hoped she had just woken up due to Ezra’s long-winded soliloquy about your singing, and hadn’t heard anything else beyond that. Mm, no. You think she would’ve said something about how fucking gross it was. Or pulled a thrower on you.

“As well you shouldn’t,” Ezra chuckled, turning his head to grin at the girl where she had turned to face him on the opposite cot, “She sings like Kevva strung her throat with gold. Or the very strings of a harp.”

You blushed and ducked your head into your shoulder, embarrassed by his flattery. Looked to him and found his honey-dark eyes drinking you in from above, the ghost of a smile on his lips as he flattened his palm over your chest and rubbed it affectionately. “What would you like to hear?” you asked, running a hand over your hair and shifting on the floor to calm your nerves.

It was just Ez.

…and a girl who harbored a teen angst bigger than ten moons; fuck if you wanted her to judge you.

“Whatever tickles your fancy,” he replied, his grin wider now that you’d agreed, “You know I’m not particular to any one hymn—I find myself enraptured by it all.”

“Okay.” You pondered for a moment before settling on one of your favorites.

Then you sang.

Quietly, nervously at first in an unpracticed rasp, then growing more steady and mellow and soft.

Some swirling folk melody from your childhood in your native tongue, one you’d never forget even if someday you lost your memory. A lullaby for village children; a lilting work song for the women to hum when laundering clothes at the stream, soothing the babies strapped to their backs or their chests or both.

It told the story of a curious young girl who loved the stillness of the ocean, found peace in its silky depths. She liked the silence so much that she would spend hours beneath the water, training to hold her breath and exploring the creatures of the reef and listening to the wavering silence.

Until one humming summer night she swam so deep the water turned black. She was scared she wouldn’t be able find her way back home but she reveled in the quiet—the quiet that not even the nighttime forest could provide, nor the village when the hunters and scavengers left for work. It was then that she saw a light shining from the deep, and decided to chase it.

Down, down, down.

And down. Until the light became so bright it surrounded her, seeped into her until she did not know where she began and it ended. No pain, no fear surrounded her. Just a sense of calm, and peace.

And she became the moon, the biggest one in the sky. The silence up there was incomparable.

The song was meant as a warning to the village children not to wander too far from the town and somehow find themselves in the cove breaching the outer mountain range. A warning to stay away, else you’d become one of the many moons in the sky, never to return to your family and the life you loved.

But you’d always found it more compelling than that, more meaningful, because the story originated from a similar legend of the moon goddess your village worshipped, the deity of the biggest satellite in your skies. The minor difference came in the detail that she chose to become the Great Moon after divine conversation instead of chasing a light down into the deep on a whim. And there was a ceremony held to initiate her transition into a celestial body.

When you’d wrapped up the lullaby you found yourself more at peace than you’d felt in a long time. You didn’t like to think about your planet, nor your village, nor the tragedies that occurred there. But this memory was a happy one, filled with sleepy eyes and chubby fingers grabbing onto mothers’ cloaks, and getting tucked into warm soft blankets by a fireplace.

“Sweet siren,” Ezra whispered in a drowsy slur, giving your hand a gentle squeeze as he turned to rest on his back, “Never fail to soothe me even when ’m in utmost anguish.”

And with that, he left you in silence, and you knew he wasn’t far from sleep.

By the time his breath evened out, you felt your eyes drooping.

Fuck, you were exhausted.

This spin had been arguably more eventful than any you’d had in a long while, and it didn’t occur to you that you could be tired when you’d hardly done much until the action rolled in.

The floor was actually not half bad, given that you laid on the tarp that absorbed heat but quickly cooled when you moved. The nights here got cold, surprisingly. But Ezra’s hand hanging down and resting across your chest felt so good. The weight of him, the heat of him, it grounded you. You circled patterns into his upturned palm until you became too sleepy for that, settling on threading your fingers with his and feeling his pulse beneath your fingertips.

How dare he think you’d care for him less with only one arm? If anything, it showed his perseverance, his will to move forward and make hard decisions. Only something a man with determination could do.

He felt so warm and sure—steady. He was safe now that he had come back. You felt the inky black of sleep begin to wash over you as organized thought became jumbled feeling.

You didn’t have to worry anymore, not about his whereabouts. Everything was alright. It was as good as it had been in quite a while.

Everything would be alright, you could just…

Just…

“I wish my parents had loved each other like that,” Cee murmured in the quiet dark of the tent, rendering you wide awake with a jolt, as if someone had plunged a shot of adrenaline into your chest.

“They separate?” you managed, knowing it came out strange but not wanting to confirm or deny anything about you and Ezra. The silence that greeted you implied that she had had no intention of you hearing it. But she spoke regardless.

“No,” she scoffed, then went quiet for a moment, “My mom died when I was little. And I can’t remember what they were like together. We were always working so there wasn’t a lot of time for love between them.”

Oh. An orphan. It softened you a little more for her, made you more sympathetic to the fact that Ezra had killed her last living parent. You were an orphan too. So was he.

“We’re all missing parts of our family in some way or another. People with worldly attachments don’t usually sign up for this level of intensity. Not the strays, anyhow.”

“But you have each other,” she insisted.

“By chance alone. We didn’t start off liking each other. And we’re not…married, or anything.”

The last bit came out strangled—you’d never…said something like that aloud.

You and Ezra, married? It was odd, to say the least. You never thought of yourself as one to desire marriage in any respect—ceremonial, legal, the like. It just didn’t sit well with you. Too many complications, a lot of governing body involvement that you didn’t care for.

And Ezra…he wasn’t too fond of it either. But not because he didn’t want it, that much he’d admitted to you one night after admitting the complications of his feelings on his love life, ones that somewhat contradicted the first time he told you about it all; he couldn’t have it, he’d never let himself believe even a fraction of him deserved it. The life of a floater—and sure, just as Cee’s parents had prospected and been married (you assumed) and had a kid, many others did the same. But then you supposed it ended with kids like Cee, and she was lucky to not lay dead next to her idiot father, or trapped and sold as a body in the Dark-Spawn Trades. Lucky Ezra wasn’t filthy and depraved, lucky you were once young and scared like her and so took it upon yourself to keep her in your sights for now.

“How’d you meet?”

A chuckle bubbled out of you as you sat up and ran your fingers through Ezra’s hair, watching his chest rise and fall in even strokes, thinking back on that night so long ago.

“Stealing supplies from the same drop company. Two feral dogs fighting over who deserved it more. We bickered and threatened so much we lost track of time and made a mess and a ruckus and got caught.” A smile threatened to break your features and you let it, for just a moment. It faded as you recalled your awful encounter, “Captured, tortured for information because they thought we worked for a rival mining company. They wanted the locations of dig-sites we didn’t have, mining techniques we didn’t know. When he brought up the Wastes earlier…that’s what he meant. Surprised we didn’t die, but they really thought we were valuable or something.”

You gave yourself a minute before continuing. In a panic, you rubbed circles over the tattoo on the web of Ezra’s hand between his thumb and forefinger, trying to ground yourself as wicked, blood-specked memories flooded your head.

Deep breath. You’re safe, he’s here. This will be good to get off your chest. You’ve never spelled it out to anyone before. Nobody’s ever asked. Maybe this girl is a gift from the universe, maybe she was sent here to give you space to heal. Deep breath. You’re safe. He’s here.

You eventually pressed the back of his limp hand to your cheek, and found your voice once more. You didn’t need to worry about waking him; once he conked out into REM sleep it took a freight train to wake him up. At least, when he was with you he always slept deeper. He’d told you one night; how it helped to have you there, like you dragged all the bad memories and nightmares away, pulling them so far out of reach he only found thoughtless, worry-free sleep.

“Hearing someone’s screams from the other side of a cell wall makes you more susceptible to care about them. A bonding experience, so to speak. He’d talk to me for hours on the nights they made us sit and anticipate another session. Recited poetry, recalled stories from his time as a prospector as an escape from our reality. I would sing for him, when we knew the guards had left. It was how we got to know each other. It’s—that’s why he calls me his siren. The reason I call him a chatterbox, among other obvious explanation.”

“How’d you get out?” Cee asked, resting her cheek on her hands as she laid on her side, watching you with keen interest.

“Killed them,” you rasped, not wanting to go into the gory details, “Every single one.”

For nights you had laid awake, haunted by memories of blood staining your only pair of clothes, blood splattering into your mouth, chunks of brain matter on Ezra’s gloves as he dragged you through a maze of tents and established buildings, viscera on your recovered suit, the way you’d had to swallow bile back down your esophagus at the sight of all the lives you’d taken. But you had to do it; it’s what you told yourself when the images would replay every time you closed your eyes.

Vengeance, necessity, paired with Ezra’s seemingly insatiable bloodlust—and your own. Your own shameful desire to incite violence, one you bred in the early years of your youth and had stuffed away until needed.

But you hadn’t been able to deny that, when Ezra shot a man who’d pinned you to the ground and then finished him off with a knife spurting blood out his neck, it stirred your blood something wild. Hearing him panting through the transmitter, grunts and curses as he tore through humans and humanoids and alien creatures alike right beside you. Hearing him call out targets, watching your six, taking single-word direction from you when you did the same.

They worked like a well-oiled machine, like you two had never not known the other. And he was sloppy in his technique, grounded more in brute force than strategy—but you made up for that in quick, evasive maneuvers and stealth. Both of you had near-perfect aim and could work around the clunky gear of your suits.

Messy—pools of blood, the sickening crunch of bone and cartilage crushed beneath your hands and your feet and your knife and whatever other weapon you scavenged along the way.

It felt like a ritual. A baptism of carnage that ensured neither one of you could live without the other.

So of course, when it all was over and the last vertebra snapped—

—there had been filthy, unhinged, surely unsanitary, bio-hazardous fucking in a tent surrounded by carnage.

Fucking in way you could only describe as feral.

Unrestrained.

Hot, Kevva’s saints was it brutally hot and so needy—but also so, so tender.

Full of soft emotion. Unspoken, even for Ezra’s standards. Almost loving.

Your aching bodies, exhausted and weak and battered, dragged lazily against one another once both of you had ceased the initial writhing pace of passion and the adrenaline ebbed. It tasted tinny like blood and musky like spit and salty with sweat and tears, and if nothing more, it was real. Whispering about how fuck, they’d made it and god, they were on the same level, we made it, baby—can’t live without you, I need you I need you I need you—

That day was quite possibly your favorite memory as well as one of your darkest. The day that you knew, in the charred, most twisted part of you, that you’d follow this man to the ends of every planet, to the far reaches of the universe—and he’d very well do the same.

Of course, you shared none of that with Cee.

“We took down the main base of the entire company. They were small but well-endowed. Got to transfer points into our accounts and sort through the mining equipment and the food,” you offered instead after a long bout of silence, “And the spoils of their labor. We were rich, could have retired early.”

“Why didn’t you?”

You debated whether to lie or tell her the truth, deciding on the latter. This girl wasn’t a threat, she genuinely wanted to know. “Ezra and I have—had a certain…interest in finding thrill wherever we can.”

Cee quirked an eyebrow, and you elaborated, “It’s not something to romanticize, we certainly weren’t smart about our spending. Gambling, drugs, slingshot scooter racing, smuggled creature ring-fights. The risk makes winning worth it. It was addicting. We earned a lot. Uncountable amounts of money. But we spent it all and then spent more. Pulled stunts that not even the most daring would try. Heists, intel-theft for enemies of certain people. We got caught up in it. Eventually drowned in a swamp of debt and unrequited favors. Got put on watchlists by the head crime syndicate and peace officers alike in the Core Worlds because we got cocky. Sloppy. So many people want our heads on a stake that we’d be better off dying out here. It’d be ironic, given the executions we deserve.”

You shuddered at the thought of Karolclan and their unusual procedures for punishment. They wanted you the most—you owed them the most. Them and Omni-Five. But Karolclan was decidedly worse.

“Why are you still mining? Wouldn’t it be easier to hide somewhere less dangerous?”

“We have debts to pay, bird,” you sighed, fond of the nickname Ezra gave her as it fit her well, “It’s the only honest work we can get without a biotracker recognizing our scans or someone realizing that the burner names and scouting codes we give them are bullshit. We work alone—no drop company, no mining corps. Until we can get our names cleared and our bio-scans off the watchlist, we can’t do shit else.”

If nothing more, Karolclan did allow debt payoff. But only if you could evade their capture, and only if you had the means to satisfy compounded interest. They were brutal, ruthless.

“He said you had a crew…and a ship…before you ended up stranded.”

“We did. A group of people like us. But you can imagine that a group of outlaws don’t always see eye to eye—buncha hotheaded criminals. Fought over aurelac, argued over fair shares, resources, everything.”

That wasn’t the whole story.

It started as a dispute over aurelac, but had quickly turned into a spat against Ezra, why he had so many successful harvests and surely he was stealing or cheating, how it wasn’t fair that you two were attached at the hip and didn’t section off when you split into groups to cover more land. In the heat of argument and the desperation of man, that had morphed into threats against you—Why don’t you fucking share her, Ezra? We all have needs and she’s barely good at the dig-sites. Put her to use somewhere else or we’ll find a use for her, and that devolved into Might take her right from under you if you don’t watch yourself, don’t be surprised if you hear her struggle tonight.

You had gotten used to the crude commentary, the snickers and wolf-whistles when you bent over, and if they had tried to somehow steal you away in the night, they’d have been reminded that you slept fully armed and showed no mercy to anyone who touched you unless they knew just where to start—and only one person did.

But that…that had not gone over well with him. It ended before you even knew what he did, and pretty soon you had a dead crewmate spilling blood over your boots while the familiar sound of throwers charging up rang in your ears, all of them pointed at the man panting beside you. The only one from the group to live and remain on the Green had been Two, and honestly you were never fond of them but weren’t surprised when they helped you and Ezra take the heat off your backs—they always teamed up with you two and they were good at what they did. It was a shame they were gone—despite their silence and threatening demeanor and sometimes uncalculated moves in a plan, they never made a move to harm either of you; they just wanted to harvest and get out like you did. Better them than Ezra, though. You’d have genuinely lost your mind if they had shown up in his stead.

“Did you kill the crew too?”

“Only a few,” you said honestly, “The others left us stranded when they realized we’d kill them next. Number Two was our only ally. Now they’re dead.”

You laid back down and put Ezra’s hand across your chest again, “Get some rest now. We’ve got a long day ahead of us. And if you choose to kill him while we sleep—kill both of us.”

You didn’t know why you’d felt compelled to say that, but revealing such a dark part of yourself to her convinced you that she’d plant a bolt in you or Ezra’s head and run. Ezra was the more likely target, given his history with the girl. It was irrational, for the most part; if she truly wanted him dead she would have let his wound kill him. Or she would have shot him sooner. But you couldn’t be too sure.

And you’d sooner die than wake up to him cold next to you.

#ezra (prospect)#ezra x reader #ezra x f!reader #ezra (prospect) x reader #anya writes #ohhhh boy! a second installment #pedrostories #ezra smut #cacoethes

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an-actual-angel · 3 years

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Pairing: Connor (RK800) x Reader, Collin (RK800-60) x Reader, Richard (RK900) x Reader

Summary: The year was 2082. 44 Years after the android revolution. Things have turned south for humanity. Androids now rule the world, leaving humans to be considered as mere animals. While some Androids still have a general disdain for humanity some have taken to the idea of keeping them as “family pets.” You, born in captivity, specifically bred to be the perfect pet happen to get adopted by the RK brothers.

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Chapter 36 - Running away is easy, Its the leaving that's hard

It had almost been two weeks since you last saw Connor and Collin. It had been tough, to say the least, you missed them like crazy. You would constantly check your phone for messages that would never come. Perhaps it didn’t take them long at all to forget about you. You couldn’t let yourself get too upset about it though, this was your decision. Maybe it was easier for them to keep their distance. It would probably work out better this way in the end.

Danny was right when he said that life in the settlement wasn't going to be glamorous, it was hard work, something you weren’t used to, coming from living cushy in a penthouse. You mostly helped out with farming the land and tending to the chickens, feeding them, cleaning out their coop, collecting eggs, etc. You also got stuck with the job of babysitting some kids from time to time. It was good to keep busy though, to keep your mind away from androids.

When you had free time, you spent it mostly with Emily, catching up, attempting to look after her, although insisted she didn’t need the fuss.

You had been staying in Emily’s shack, it was just you her and her cat Pepper, but you made a good little family. You wondered whatever happened to the father of Emily’s child, she didn’t want to talk about him too much, whoever he was. She’d just say he was away.

You didn’t want to push her but your overbearing curiosity would not sit at peace. Some other ladies around the settlement had told you he had been taken by androids.

What Emily did tell you about the child’s father was that his name was James and he was the one that saved her from the adoption centre. Well, he’d been one of the humans in the midst of the one of the riots in the city who also happened to help some of the humans escape the centre.

“Took down two androids right in front of my eyes, that how I knew he was the one.” She laughed.

“He took down two androids? On his own?” You spluttered out, not believing her.

“Yeah, with one of these,” Emily smirked handing you over a baton.

Taking it in your hand you examine it, slightly confused until you see a button near the bottom. “Is this one of the electric ones the cops use?”

“Yep, can take out an android with a few quick buzzes.” She points her chin at you and smiles. “That’s my man, always got the good weapons.”

“I’m quite surprised you settled on a man honestly.” You smirked, “Last time I saw you, you were giving puppy dog eyes to Olivia.” You cock your head to the side, raising your eyebrows.

“Yeah, I did have a thing for her, until she got adopted and you know. Kinda couldn’t see her anymore.”

“Liv got adopted?”

“Yeah.” Emily shrugged plainly and looked away.

“I’m sorry Emily.” You reach out your hand to touch hers.

“Why are you sorry?” She shakes her head, pulling her hand away from yours to rest on her baby bump.

“It just must have been lonely for you, without me and Liv.” You bite at the broken skin on your bottom lip.

“Yeah it was a bit, but then I met James.” She smiled a little but it faded fast. “He’ll come back you know.” She said quickly, more telling it as a way to convince herself, rather than you.

You nod back to her, not wanting to hurt your friend. “Of course Emily.”

Her hand wipes at her eye a little. “Best be getting to bed.” She stands to her feet. “You should as well” she smiles placing her hand on your shoulder.

“That’s probably a good idea.” You nod. “Big day tomorrow.”

___

You woke to the sun shining through the thin material of your makeshift curtain, with a rub of your eyes and a quick stretch you were up to start your day. Making breakfast for yourself and Emily was first on the list and then feeding Emily’s cat Pepper was second. The next few hours would be spent outside on the farm tending to some of the plants and vegetables, you would do this until lunchtime when you would have a quick bite to eat and then on to the ‘town’ meeting, a quick impromptu one that had been called by Danny.

They had received word from another settlement, one not too far from them that they would aid them in their next city raid.

“City raid?” You whispered to Emily, not understanding what he had meant.

“Yeah, we’d been planning this one for a while.” She whispers back quickly. “It’s how we get more weapons, people, stuff like that.”

“Does Connor know you guys have been doing this?” You ask.

“No. but he doesn’t need to know.” She shrugs. “We send our doughboys out with masks anyway.”

“Doughboys?” You asked even more confused than before.

“Yeah, our fighters.” She snaps as she furrows her brows. “Don’t you listen?” realising how quick she was with you she apologises “Sorry, I forgot that you’re still new around here. We call our ‘recruits’” she says with parenthesis. “Doughboys, and they get shit done. I was one before, well before y’know.” She rubs her bump.

“Never pegged you as a fighter.”

“Well, I guess there’s a lot you don’t know about me then.” She laughs.

“Ladies,” Danny calls Emily and your attention back to him.

“This time it’s going to be the big one.” Danny looks around at everyone’s faces. “There are people from other settlements in the city as we speak. It’s almost our time to join them. Three days. Three more days!” His weathered hand hits the table he was standing in front of. “And we're getting our boys back.”

You notice Emily nod to Danny, her lip wobbles as she turns to you.

“James.” she half-smiles half whimpers as her hand grabs yours.

You give her hand a tight squeeze and whisper a silent prayer that they will indeed find him alive and well.

As the day goes on most of the camp seems in a mixture of excitement and fear about the upcoming raid.

The ‘Doughboys’ as Emily called them, coordinating their plan of attack, parents ensuring their children that everything will work out, farmers, bakers, and medics in a tizzy to prepare the needed supplies.

As the evening settles in you begin to worry for Emily, what if they can’t find James? what if he’s not even alive?

Poor Emily has been through so much. She doesn’t deserve any more grief.

A part of you wants to tell her to not get her hopes up but saying that would be cruel. You just nod along and try to keep her comfortable. After dinner Emily ends up falling asleep on the recliner chair she had been sitting on. As you wrap a blanket over her shoulders you realise that you're almost out of firewood and the fire its self is beginning to dwindle down.

Grabbing one of Emily’s cloaks from a hanger, you drape it over your shoulders before heading out on your quest to seek out more wood.

Wooden logs were usually kept in an area just west of the settlement, it was a little walk through the trees but not too far. You usually preferred going out when it was brighter. The light from your phone only made the place look creepier. The quietness of the area didn’t help either, if it wasn’t for the noises made by nearby animals the place would be downright eerie. At least you could still see the warm glow of the settlement in the distance through the trees.

You knelt down on dry dirt to pick up some of the logs from the bottom of the pile to put in the wicker basket that you had brought with you. After you make your selection you stand back to your feet and dust off the dirt of your clothes. Just as you are about to reach down for your basket again you are abruptly stopped by a large hand being placed over your mouth as well as an arm wrapping around your front holding both your arms in place so that you cannot struggle from the grasp. You try to wrestle your way out of the grasp in a fit of fear but a familiar voice sends you into shock.

“Please calm down.”

Is that?

Your body is frozen.

“I only grabbed you like this in case you screamed. Sorry, it was a bit abrupt, I know.”

Your heart begins to thump harder in your chest but this time not from fear.

“When I let go, please don’t scream.” The voice pleads.

You manage to nod your head, still, in your state of shock, the hands and arm loosen from you and you try to steady yourself on your feet before turning around.

You take a deep breath as you slowly move on your feet towards the person whose grip you had just been in.

“Richard.” You exhale deeply.

His tongue wets his lip before he attempts to speak, however, you cut him off.

“What are you doing here!? If anyone sees you!” You shout in a whisper at him.

“Look, I know, I know.” He lifts his hands in defence. “I was just lucky that you happened to be out here so I didn't have to go in there.” He gestures his head towards the settlement.

“Don’t dare step foot in there.” Your eyes widen as if he’s gone mad.

“I won’t, I won’t… If you come back.”

“What? No.” You shake your head.

“No?”

“I can’t Richard. I belong here.”

“Y/N, Look at this place. It’s disgusting.” He shakes his head as he scans his eyes across the poorly put together ‘town’. “Surviving on scraps, like an animal. You have a nice home, come back.” He reaches out to hold your hands.

You lift your brows to look up at him, your mouth becoming straight as you shake your head and slowly pull your hands away.

“I can’t, I just can’t.” You pick your basket off the ground and turn to walk away from the android.

“I’ll give you anything!” He shouts out. You turn your head to him.

“I’ll do anything.” He moves towards you again. “Just say the word. Please.”

He reaches his hand towards yours once more, his other caressing your cheek.

“I’ll even help with the rebellion.” He whispers.

“The rebellion?” You look up at him, your face plagued with even more confusion.

“Whatever it is the humans are planning. I can help, I can be of use just, please come back.” He begs his forehead now resting against yours.

“Wha- I don't understand. Why?” You whisper to him, closing your eyes as you press your forehead back against his.

“Because I love you.”

________________________________________________________________

Chapter 37 - Alrighty Aphrodite

You had entered the settlement on your own again. Going back to your shack, you had to explain the situation to Emily.

“If he can get James back.” She stopped for a minute to steady her breath. “Then I’m on board.”

After a quick hug and farewell, you had a bag packed and you were off.

“I’ll be back.” You said once more to Emily before leaving.

“I know.” She nods.

Richard had been waiting for you just outside the gateway, you had told him to wait there so he wouldn’t spook the residents.

“I can carry that” Richard insist, taking your bag from your hands, before you could say anything he had it thrown over his shoulder. You bite at your lips not really knowing what to say but walking through the forested area with him in silence.

“It’s not too far of a walk to the car,” He said. “I did try to park as close as I could.”

You just nod and continue to walk. After another while of insufferable silence, you finally speak up to him.

“So, is it true?” You turn towards the Android. “Do you really love me?”

His eyes fall to the ground for a moment as he continues on. “Yes.” He fell quiet again for a moment before continuing on. “I think I first began to realise when Collin got in that accident. You stayed with him.” He let out an artificial sigh. “I started to think about if something had happened to you and-” He shrugged.

“It took me a long time to come to grips with my feelings as you could probably tell. I never experience this type of emotion before.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?” You tilt your head attempting to make eye contact, his gaze still avoiding yours as he trudged forward.

“I was an idiot. A scared fool.”

“You are an idiot.” You stop for a minute causing Richard to stop as well, he moves closer to you, to see if you are alright. Taking him by surprise you lean up to press a kiss to his cheek. Richard hums for a second moving away slowly, he looks into your eyes before he tries to kiss your lips.

You however hold your hand out and say “I can't do that, I have boyfriends.” Before walking on.

“Yeah, ones that left you behind.” Richard sighs moving again to walk beside you.

“They did that to protect me.”

“Connor in his twisted reasoning. He probably did it more to protect himself. He is selfish. You have no idea what your leaving has done to Collin.” Richard grumbles.

“So you’re guilt-tripping me now?” You roll your eyes.

“I’m just saying.” Richard grunts, re-adjusting your bag against his back. “Why’d you not bring your suitcase?”

“This is just temporary.” You shrug.

“I see.”

“How’s Connor doing?” You change the subject before Richard tries to convince you to stay forever.

“He’s stressed about all of the attacks that have been happening in the city and he’s stressed because Collins current mental stability is not too fun. I think it would cheer him up to see you.”

“Yeah and he might murder you for bringing me.” You quip back.

“True. I guess we’ll just have to see.” He retorts as you notice Richard’s car parked in the distance. He did park quite close. Something Connor would also be pissed about.

“How did you find me anyway?” You ask the question that’s been on your mind since you first saw him.

“I’m afraid the truth of the matter might unsettle you a little.” He explains as his car beeps at his arrival.

“Go on.” You encourage him. “You can’t stop now.”

“I am one of the most advanced androids in existence.” He explains whilst throwing your bag in the back of his car. He then opens the passenger side door for you to get in. When you do he leans down to your ear to whisper, “I’m everywhere.” And with that, he closes the door.

You sit for a moment in contemplation as he gets into his side of the car to sit down. As he puts his seat belt on you turn to him with confusion on your face. “Did you hack my phone?”

Richard rolls his eyes as he starts up the car. “I was able to tap into the journey history of Connor's vehicle. I knew he was behind all of this.” He begins to explain as his own car sets out.

“When I got to the location of the factory I was able to scan for signs of nearby technology. Your settlement stood out like a beacon. Didn’t take too long for me to tap into some phones that were being used yes, and then I saw you.”

“Can other androids do all that?”

“Not a lot can. And definitely not to the extent that I can. As I say, I’m everywhere. Any piece of technology, I can tap into if I desire so.” Richard explains proudly.

“So, do you ever use it to spy on people?”

“Only if necessary.”

“You ever watch people naked?” You smirk a little.

Richard’s brows furrow as he blushes slightly. “No, I would not do that.”

You burst out in laughter at his defensiveness. “I’m just teasing.”

Richard adjusts his shirt collar in discomfort. “Indeed.” He replies dryly.

You smile and rest your head against the back of the seat.

“You know you can lie in the back if you want, it’s a long drive and you could do with some sleep.”

You swivel your seat around to look at the back seat, assessing it. Swapping your seat with your bag that had been put in the back and lay down on the cool leather.

“You don’t have any blankets do you?” You ask Richard as you attempt to find some level of comfort on the cold seat.

“No, sorry. I can turn the heat up if you like?”

“hmmpf.” You think for a minute. “Isn’t this car self-driving?”

“Yes,” Richard replies, not really sure at what you’re getting at.

“Why don’t you just put in the destination and then come back here and lie with me?”

His LED begins flashing red. “I think Connor would definitely try and kill me if we sleep with each other again.” Richard stammers.

“I wasn’t suggesting we have sex, oh my god!” You smack your hand over your mouth to not laugh.

Richard's face began to turn in cringe, “oh I just thought-”

“I meant so we could cuddle.” You explain, smirk still present on your face.

“Do you think Collin and Connor would be okay with that?”

“I think they’d be angrier if you let me get sick from the cold.” You tease.

“That is a fair point.” Richard raises a brow as he puts in the location for the car to self-drive. When he has it tapped in, he too swivels around in his seat to move to the back with you.

Richard is a little awkward at first as he clumsily shifted to lay down in the backseat with you, eventually pulling you into his chest. The thrum of his thirium pump makes you grin in triumph as he settles his head to rest on top of yours. Richard then changes his body temperature to a comfortable setting so that he could be your personal radiator for the next few hours.

Was this weird? Absolutely. Was this wrong? Maybe. Was this comfortable? YES.

But you allowed yourself the brief comfort of being in Richard's arms, even if it was just for this one night. Maybe you felt like you deserved it, you were entitled to some amount of comfort after all the crap you’ve been through.

A part of you was angry and Collin and Connor for not reaching out, even to send a measly little text message. Your more rational mind told you to drop it, something might have come up, you didn’t know the full story, and maybe it was too hard for them. Although that didn’t stop it from stinging your ego any less.

You managed to drift off to sleep rather quickly, that was one of the benefits from all the hard work you had been up to at the settlement, sleep found you a whole lot quicker. Richard had stayed beside you for the majority of the journey as well, cherishing the feeling of having you in his arms once again. Deciding to himself to never be without this feeling anymore. His face snuck its way between your neck and collar bone to take in your scent and to delicately place his lips against your skin just for a sweet moment of indulgence. He had to wiggle his hips away from yours so you would not awake with his growing hardness against your ass.

Feeling a little guilty for his body’s response he decided to give you some space, sliding his form out from the side, slowly as not to wake you. He couldn’t help but smiling down at how comfortable you seemed as he made his way back to the driver’s seat, the seat still swivelled around to face the back.

Richard did eventually wake you up as the car pulled into the private garage area for the RK’s apartment building.

“We're here, little dove.” He coos to you, brushing his knuckles down the length of your arm.

Your eyes squinted open, feeling blinded by the violently bright fluorescent lights of the garage you had found yourself in. Looking down you had noticed one of Richard's coats had been draped over you. You rubbed your eyes briefly before reaching down to it to hand it over to Richard.

“You put it on.” He insisted, pushing it back towards you. “At least until we get inside. It gets cold in the garage, at least that’s what my sensors tell me.”

You didn’t object you just nodded in silence, still in that groggy half sleep-like state. Throwing the oversized coat onto yourself you open the car door and hop out, Richard grabbing your bag soon follows behind, hand on your shoulder as he directs you towards the elevator.

It felt strange being back in the city, even stranger to see the apartment building again.

When you entered back into your old home, it had felt different somehow, a little bit eerie even. Suppose it didn’t help that most of the lights were off.

“Collin and Connor are both out at the moment.” Richard finally spoke up again, leading you by the shoulder into the dark living room, with a flash of his LED the lights were on.

You squinted again at the harshness of them before Richard had dimmed them to a more pleasing brightness level.

“Why don’t you go and get a nice hot bath and I can put your stuff away.” He awkwardly half-smiles over at you.

“Are you sure?” You ask skittishly.

“Of course.” He tilts his head in confusion, it’s not like having YOU here was any bother to him, he was bloody delighted. “After that, I can go get my brothers?”

“Right now?” You stuttered out the question, fidgeting with the large sleeves of Richard’s coat that you had forgotten to take off.

“Do you want some time before?” Richard asked, head tilting once more, exposing his pale neck to you.

You shook your head and looked back down at your hands. “I don’t know, maybe. It’s not that I don’t want to see them. This is all just a little overwhelming.”

“I understand.” Richard nods. “Just one thing at a time.”

You look up at him once more, catching his cool eyes in a stare, you nod. “A hot bath sounds good.”

________________________________________________________________

Notes: I lowkey called Emily's love interest James after Bucky Barnes (cause for some reason I imaging him looking like Bucky lol)

Sorry I'd been gone for a while, just been really busy with work and general life stuff.

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#fic: pretty baby #My writing #connor x you #connor x reader #rk900 x reader #rk800 x reader #rk800-60 x reader #detroit become human #dbh fanfic #dbh au #rk900 #rk800 #rk800-60

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junicai · 3 years

Text

Relationship with SuperM

➣ BAEKHYUN ☾ baekaria

before being thrown into a supergroup together, aria and baekhyun hadn’t really spoken

they’d seen each other around the building, and aria was an avid supporter of exo so of course she knew who he was but she wasn’t expecting him to know who she was

so when aria walked into the practice room and was greeted by baekhyun waving her over and calling her name

sue her if she was a little stunned

their relationship was a little stilted at the beginning

between the age gap, and baekhyun not having a girl member in a group before, it took a few weeks for the two of them to figure out their dynamic and where they fit around each other

eventually though

they settled into a pretty comfortable situation

baekhyun tries to put her at ease as much as possible

there is 8 years in the difference, but you’d swear that its less than half

although he’s playful and generous with the teasing like he is to other members

he’s careful to avoid certain topics when it comes to aria, just out of respect for her and not wanting to make her feel uncomfortable

this came to fruition after kai unknowingly made a small comment on how aria “must have been hungry”, considering how fast she was eating

baekhyun knew he didn’t mean anything by it, but he watched aria slowly put down her chopsticks and reach for the bottle of water beside her instead

he didn’t see her eat for the rest of the evening

did kai get in trouble? no but he did get hit lightly over the head

when aria does something cool - like a spin or a trick - baekhyun is the first to say “that’s my child. i raised her, look how well i taught her”

ten: “heY-”

tldr: although they’re not the closest, aria’s slowly grown more comfortable around him, and he’s looking out for her all the time

FAN FAVOURITE MOMENT.

200829 Knowing Brothers: when baekhyun brought up the members of superm all showering together to get closer quickly, heechul quickly pounced on aria - the girl slowly moving to put her head in her hands.

“and where was aria during all of this? don’t tell me you brought her to?”

baekhyun: “well of course we did-”

aria: “NO I STAYED OUTSIDE HE’S A LIAR DON’T LISTEN TO HIM!”

*cue baekhyun laughing his ass off*

➣ TAEMIN ☾ arimin

aria thought she was going to die

there was absolutely no plausible reason that she should be in a group with The Taemin

he was highkey the reason why she had even accepted her position in sm at the very beginning of her training

this man convinced a fifteen year old to give up the sport she��d been doing her entire life

his impact (*¯ ³¯*)♡

please stand by while aria tosses herself off a bridge

she was So Formal at the beginning

he honestly was the member she took the longest time to warm up to - because she had idolized him for so long

will still refer to him as taemin-ssi occasionally, but now its less a formality and more of a tease

this boy was shook when he found out how young aria was - mark and lucas he can deal with because at least they’re 1999, but aria....

“2000??? 2000?”

he said :O

despite their rocky start, they’re quite comfortable around each other, especially after spending a few nights rooming together over the tour

does aria still look for his validation in a lot of her work? yes, but she’s more open about asking for it now then she would have been

taemin definitely doesn’t have a favourite kid and it’s definitely not aria no why would you think that

aria really out here collecting parents like pokémon

gotta catch em all~

he looks out for her a lot during their schedules, mainly because he knows what its like to be the youngest in a group and how it can feel a little like you don’t really have a place there

so he always makes sure to include her where possible

FAN FAVOURITE MOMENT.

sitting in a circle in a waiting room while mark toy-ed around with the guitar in his lap, aria sat curled in the corner, humming lightly to herself as taemin sang softly along with mark playing “view”.

quietly, she began to sing soft backing harmonies along with taemin, her eyes still attached to her phone in her hands.

when she felt the device being tugged out of her hands and her being pulled upright by another hand on her arm, she looked up to see taemin smiling brightly, still singing

cue the impromptu concert of a lifetime: with god tier vocals

➣ KAI ☾ kairia

so, they met

and kai just kinda went: mine.

and that was that really

its like a puppy refusing to give up its favourite chew toy

“nooo but its my turn to room with aria :(”

never really did the whole awkward, getting to know each other phase?

not that aria had any real say in it

but jongin point blank refused to engage in small talk with her

so they ended up spending their nights on the superm tour talking about stuff ranging from why the sky is blue to why aria stopped ice skating

she started crying and he did not handle it well, bless him

although he’s super chill and fun to be around

he’s also the only non-nct member that seriously scolds her

when he found her in a practice room lying on the ground (she was Resting, thank you very much) at three in the morning, he dragged her out without a word and brought her back to her dorms in silence

aria knew he was mad at her, but she thought it was because he had to borderline carry her four blocks down to the nct dorms

“no you idiot, im angry because you thought that instead of coming to one of us for help with the bits you’re struggling with, you figured hey. let’s pass out instead.”

he’s so affectionate with her

you know how lucas and kai have Intense Brothers Energy

well aria has that, little sister vibe that makes kai want to wrap her in a blanket and carry her everywhere

she’d hate that, if he tried that she’d scream (he did try that, this is coming from past experience)

FAN FAVOURITE MOMENT.

kai chucking aria like a cannon ball into the pool during the filming of mtopia when she refused his hugs.

“oppa, oppa no im sorry ill give you all the hugs you want, oppa, JONGIN-OPPA NO NO NO NO -”

*sploosh*

➣ TAEYONG ☾ ariyong

taeyong took one look at aria the first time she showed up for group practice and immediately adopted her (not literally but he would if he could)

eomma meets highly protective brother meets life coach type beat?

so so soft for her its sickening

says he doesn’t have favourites and will then spend an hour cooking for aria because she’s been in the studio the whole day and he knows she hasn’t eaten yet

when aria was given a duet to do for the sm stages, she had to pick another member to do it with and her first choice was taeyong

she always has said that taeyong is one of the pillars keeping her upright and sane - without him she wasn’t sure if she would have been able to complete her training

because of all the schedules they share together, if aria isn’t rooming with mark then she’s definitely rooming with taeyong

whenever she does his makeup (more often than you’d think) she point blank refuses to cover his scar, even when he asks her to do so

“please? i don’t like it.” “*gasp* how dare you.”

sleepy aria! snuggling into taeyong’s shoulder when a schedule ran late!

he gets uncomfy when the stylists put her in too revealing clothes, and has spoken to them on numerous occasions about dressing her in age-appropriate attire, no matter how “sexy” the concept might be

he keeps little bags of sugar-dusted strawberry sweets in his bag incase she forgets to eat and feels faint after the last time (they used to be blueberry flavoured but he heard donghyuck throwing out any and all “blueberry-contaminated” food one evening)

taeyong doesn’t tolerate hate towards aria, especially in person, so he always makes sure to sit down the line from her so that he can see when people skip her intentionally

FAN FAVOURITE MOMENT.

taeyong had just been awarded the single bedroom on the last night of the mtopia series, and was staring off into the corner looking rather uncomfortable. aria, who was meant to be rooming with baekhyun, looked over and saw his mouth curled downwards slightly.

“baekhyun-oppa, is it ok if i room with taeyongie-oppa tonight? i ran out of my tablets, and he has some in his bag..”

baekhyun looked down at her with a small smile and agreed, while the edited captions on the video appeared with the words, “a cute maknae asking to room with a younger member..”

➣ TEN ☾ tenaria

Whipped™

so so gone for her its upsetting actually

yangyang and aria share the position of his baby

except aria willingly accepts the title while yangyang would rather fling himself from a rooftop

ten’s instagram is half his cats, half miyazu aria

he posts her dancing practice on his story a lot, with a variety of captions ranging from “thats my baby ♡( ◡‿◡ )” to “yah that’s not right…(눈_눈)”

such an enabler for her bad ideas

aria wants to go shopping at 4am? ten agrees, now they’re sitting by han river eating ice cream

pls he’s gonna get her in so much trouble one day

when they walk together, ten likes to take her hand and put it in his pocket

its under the pretense of not wanting her to get lost

he just wants to hold her hand

yes he has lost her in a shopping mall, and NO it wasn’t his fault

ten always complains that they never have schedules together and he misses his baby

“we have superm-” “I NEVER SEE YOUUUU (ﾉಥ益ಥ)ﾉ”

if they’re in the same room ten is either watching her out of the corner of his eye, or is actually wrapped around her like a boa constrictor

hugs n kithes all around

only he is allowed make fun of her mistakes in dancing

anyone else gets deaded. he will fight for her honor how dare you insult his baby

sm give these ttwo a dancing duo video pls

FAN FAVOURITE MOMENT.

the first and only time aria and ten had a duet was during their last concert on superm’s first world tour. during the second half of ten’s solo performance, aria emerged from the left side of the stage, coming to join him in the centre stage. no one had ever seen aria as serious as she was then, both herself and ten becoming completely different people in the moment. midway through, aria spun with her back to ten and leaped backwards into the air - eyes closed - completely trusting ten to be where she needed him to be to catch her.

➣ LUCAS ☾ arihei

besties

please they’re so cute together - tol child next to tini child she barely comes up to his chest :(

bear hugs

he just swamps her in his arms, and when he doesn’t feel like being bent over he picks her up

complains that she’s too heavy but then immediately after will throw her around like a softball

someone tell this man to be careful with her she’s not a barbie doll

singular braincell energy

don’t get it wrong, they’re both super smart

so it’s just - being smort together, but then nearly dying because neither of them remembered that you couldn’t eat raw cookie dough when there are eggs in it

she adores how he’s so confident in the things that he does - like convincing the entire nct fandom that he was fluent in english? king behaviour

so aria looks up to him (literally) but also because she wants to have that confidence some day

lucas says they’re not close and then aria pouts and he takes it all back

nczennies made a 14 minute compilation titled “lucas melting like a popsicle in australia for aria”

and literally what the title tells you, this man goes :(( when he sees her

lucas was actually the person to convince her to go ahead with the [redacted] proposal - and reminded her that it was too good an opportunity to pass up just because she felt like she was outgrowing the boys

he’s so proud of her

and she’s so proud of him

they’re so proud of each other and it makes nczennies want to cry because they never are seen together

sm stop separating the platonic soulmates first markhyuck and now arihei smh

FAN FAVOURITE MOMENT.

during a photoshoot, aria was standing off to the side of the boys, dressed in white suit to contrast the boys’ black ones. the photographer was calling out to her to get her to move closer, but she couldn’t hear him from so far away, and so lucas (who was on the end) just walked over to her, gripped her by the biceps and lifted her vertically and to the left a little bit.

“luc-LUCAS?”

“you had to move :)”

➣ MARK ☾ mari

½ of the best friend crew

honestly at the beginning, mark and aria weren’t very close, having only really seen each other in passing or with johnny

but after being dropped into training together the two quickly became fast friends, and now they’re borderline inseparable

you thought you knew pain? watch aria’s reaction to mark’s graduation from dream :)

mark’s the reason why aria felt confident enough to pitch some of her lyric ideas to the team, after staying up until 4am to help her make some edits so she was as confident as possible

kinda just, rests his head on her shoulder? and wraps his arms around her waist when he’s tired

mari being confused in foreigner: ???

aria said once in a vlive that she finds mark really comforting to be around - when she feels stressed or worried about something she’ll go to mark’s room and just sit on his bed for a while

aria is so close with his parents - “ahh, how’s my favourite child” “i’m doing great mom.” “no not you, how’s aria?” “wh-hu-MOM?”

you’d swear sometimes mark is younger than her, considering the pout he puts on and how much he whines when they’re not on the same team together for promotions

mark big protecc boi but also little small cuddly boi

they’re so soft for each other ( ╥ω╥ )

in one of the fancams for mark’s solo stage during superm, someone zoomed into aria singing along with him in the wings and dancing to herself with the Proudest Smile™

he’s! so! proud! of! her! constantly! she could be walking and he’d be like “omg get it”

when aria refuses to get up and make herself food (this happens way too often, she just gets into the groove of her work and doesn’t want to move) mark gets her to by threatening to do it himself

consistently caught by czennies just standing behind her and holding her hand in crowded areas - airports, waiting rooms, etc.

FAN FAVOURITE MOMENT.

mark and aria were standing off to one side as the mc explained the rules of the game they were about to be playing. mark looked totally confused, and elbowed aria in her side before looking down and mouthing “what?” to her. aria opened her mouth, before closing it and looking down at the ground, muttering to herself, “결합… 結合….. le chéile…. le… le.. oh oh - combined! we have to put them together, markie.”

and thus, a new confusion meme was born

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unsaid-stardust · 3 years

Text

“Julie and The Phantoms” No Longer Phantoms as They Debut at #1

Only a year ago today, internet band “Julie and The Phantoms” took the world by storm when they posted a cover of Taylor Swift’s “You Need To Calm Down”. From there, the band, which consists of lead singer Julie Molina (16), guitarist Luke Patterson (17), bassist Reggie Peters (17), and drummer Alex Mercer (17), continued to post weekly covers which garnered an average of 3 million hits per video. Sure enough, the band got picked up by Hollywood Ghost Club Records and signed on to record a total of 3 albums.

It would be easy to see that such rise to greatness could cause some trouble in paradise, but the band told a different story when I sat down with them at a local diner.

I was quick to notice that Julie had looked to her bandmates, careful not to overstep anyone wanting to answer, but the 3 boys had all eyes on her. Luke had nodded and teased “all you boss”, seemingly some sort of inside joke, which prompted Julie to take the lead just as she does on stage.

J: Ah well, we’re not really allowed to give any details quite yet, but we can say that there’s definitely some discussion happening behind the scenes!

I: of course! That all must be very exciting considering only a year ago today you guys were posting covers on YouTube!

L: Yeah, yeah it’s all super exciting. The boys and I had talked about it long before we even knew Julie, so it’s just crazy to see it all happening and now with a wicked beauty of a singer to light up the stage every night? What more could we have asked for?

Luke winked and clicked his tongue towards Julie who’s smile got brighter than before. The shooed her hand at the compliment though, a teasing “oh, stop it” sounding from her.

I: You mentioned that you knew Alex and Reggie before meeting Julie. Can either of you tell us how you guys all met?

A: Well Reggie, Luke, and I actually all knew each other since the 2nd grade. We met in the music room and the rest was history. With Julie though, Luke actually had seen one of her original songs--which was “Wake Up” I know that for a fact because you can’t forget the first time you heard a voice like that--floating around on YouTube at the time. Reggie and I had just been chilling in our studio and Luke came running in with his laptop and said-

R: Wait-wait! I Wanna take this one I do a great Luke impersonation

A chuckle escaped from Julie’s lips and the two boys in question had shook their heads.

A: Do you...? Okay.

Reggie then began to pretend that he was preparing for an acting gig, his thumb pressed to his two fingers as he brought them in front of his face, releasing a breath of focused air.

R: guys guys you have to check out this insanely talented wicked beauty. Her pipes are just insane

L: I did not say that

R and A: Yeah you did.

Julie took the reins then just as natural as she were taking the reins on stage.

J: Well, even if you did or didn’t say that, that is how you guys found me. They emailed me after that and they invited me over to their studio where we had a impromptu jam-sesh. We didn’t even have a song planned to practice which is how “Bright” was actually born. So, after copious amounts of begging and begging and begging-

Luke playfully punched the lead singer in the arm and as Alex and Reggie threw out objections.

J: ok ok, I said yes to joining the band right away and as Alex said earlier, the rest is history

I: Oh, you guys for sure were meant to make this history together. You just have this natural chemistry with one another. I mean just from hearing how you guys met and then from seeing you guys today--you guys have been so in sync this whole time. I mean Reggie, you and Alex answer the same. And Luke and Julie, you two have moved the same the entire time. It’s just amazing watching you all here and on stage. But speaking of Luke and Julie, I have to ask...are you two dating?

The two shifted in their seats, but they never took their eyes off of the other, which is not the only time that Patterson had been the culprit of doing so. Both took the time to answer giving Reggie the leeway.

R: They’re not, but they should be

It’s hard to tell if the sun had just hit Julie and Luke at the wrong time or if the L.A temperature had suddenly gotten to them, but Julie was quick to respond to the bassist.

J: A-ha you’re so funny Reggie. No, no we um....we aren’t dating. I love all the guys right here next to me and I feel like I’ve bonded with them so much over the past year; they're pretty much my family. Alex and I have dance parties in my room and paint each others nails and Reggie and I gush over Taylor Swift’s newest albums and Luke and I...we just have a different bond from songwriting, you know? So I really just take that speculation as having great chemistry with my band which is definitely needed when you spend hours locked in a studio trying to get an album done.

I: Speaking of the album, can we talk about the album cover for a minute? It’s just so unique and eye-catching! Can you tell us what inspired you to choose this for your debut album cover?

Alex: Our really good friend and PR assistant Flynn actually designed it. She said that she took into consideration all of our personalities and what made us “Julie and The Phantoms” and went into photoshop and designed this masterpiece. The colors behind us our each of our favorite colors and the space background kinda comes from the idea that all of us feel like something fated us together. The universe maybe, but whatever it was we were meant to play together. And the font is a homage to Star Wars for Reggie!

I: that’s amazing! So what you’re saying is, I need to contact Flynn for all my graphic designing needs?

The band immediately nod their heads in agreement.

J: yeah she’s amazing. She’s actually my best friend too and she was the one who really got us going. We wouldn’t be here without her!

I: Sounds like a true friend! Alright, well, thank you guys for letting me sit down with you guys. It was a pleasure, one more thing to ask though--if you could have written any existing song, what would it be?

R: ooooo definitely ‘home is where my horse is’ that one is a masterpiece

The band, excluding Julie, groaned at the title.

L: Reggie stop trying to go country it’s not gonna happen

A: and that isn’t answering the question since it doesn’t exist!

J: hey, hey, it exists in Reggie and Me’s heart ok.

The bassist reached over to high five the lead singer.

A: I wish I would’ve written “I Wanna Dance with Somebody” by the icon that is Whitney Houston.

J: ooo that’s a good one. Anything by Alicia Keys for me. Or Aretha Franklin. Those two were definitely my idols growing up

L: oh “Boulevard of Broken Dreams” by Green Day for sure. The lyrics in that one hit hard man I'd love to just write a song that does that to people one day.

I: Well, looking at the charts, it appears like you might have already! Thank you so much again for sitting down with me today. Hopefully we’ll get to talk sometime soon and I look forward to seeing what you guys get up to in the future!

You can now stream “Bright Forever” on Apple Music and Spotify!

#Julie and The Phantoms #Jatp #julie molina #Luke patterson #Alex Mercer #reggie peters #jatp au #jatp edit #this is sort of an au I guess #literally dont know how this happened lmao #sakljdfh #bree edits jatp

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bro-strider-hate-blog · 3 years

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YOUR TAGS ON MY SIS POST??? IMMACULATE

I will include my tags again but only because i cant get enough of myself and not to sound like im tooting my own kazoo but this is the one time in my entire life that ive been objectively correct in every way

Lengthy and unrelated thing under the cut:

Let me talk about canon bro for a second 😌 even though its barely and tangentially related to this and you dont have to read it <3, in fact i would encourage you not to read it i just wanna run my mouth. People love to use him as a cheap villain in their dave angst fics which is like... hilarious to me. Like i get it, since hes abusive he must also be misogynistic and homophobic and transphobic and also genuinely hates dave and revels in his suffering right? Lmeow no, hes just some guy and despite everything he is in fact trying his best. Hes naturally intense and aggressive and this doesnt translate well to child rearing, especially since his one goal is to make dave strong enough (physically and mentally) to Survive whats coming. The random sneak attacks ? The traps littered around the house ? To keep dave on his toes and buff his spatial awareness. The cameras ? To monitor his progress (if hes not up to standard then we’ll just up the “training”) and / or film some puppet snuff (puff ? Snupp?) so he can keep running his dumb website and like provide for them or some shit , or ig to buy random crap and throw it around the house. Who cares if the kid sees the porn anyway its just puppets, plus hes seen way worse at that age and turned out fine (no he didnt). Dave has to be resourceful , he has to be creative and think on his feet , lets have impromptu rap battles and scrabble games. He has to know numbers like the back of his hand (idk why this is even a phrase do any of you memorise what the back of your hands looks like) to effectively utilise his sylladex.... actually nobody even uses that shit idk why bro was so insistent on it. Dave is his protege, his charge, dave is NOT his friend and hes not gonna let him forget that. He teaches him all he knows, in the way he knows. Making comics, mixing music, ironic jokes, being cool and getting shit done. Actually its GOOD that the kid is terrified of him, if hes the scariest thing in the room then dave wont fear anything else. Lets spar then, if dave wins then hes trained him well. If dave loses then hell become resilient. Either way he has to be strong or else hell die, training is necessary. Its either this or failure and failure equals death. Do your own laundry, ration your own food, become independent as fast as possible because i wont be around to take care of you forever

Nothing bro does is without reason, neither is it “sadism”, its all very logical to him despite being horrific to any sane person because his only friend is the mansplain-manipulate-manspread puppet that raised him and he has awful coping mechanisms that barely stretch past beating himself 1. up 2. off. Like he kept his baby alive to the point where it could keep itself alive (kind of alive) and thats a win to him.

That was my thesis on why bro is not a bigot like ,, he makes porn of fucking smuppets, that gives him zero chance to fetishize The Ladies. I doubt he has porno mags littered around the house its just endless plushie dicks and asses (and the two puppets handcuffed together were legit kinda funny like Why). So why would dave have internalised homophobia if it did not stem from his brother ??? Acting as if his only friends werent exuding anti gay vibes, like christ, john “im not a homosexual” egbert, him and rose’s competitive flirting gag (before they found out they were related >.>), just generally the three of them accusing each other of being gay, yknow, as kids do (jade is exempt from the argument we love jade here). Things were just more homophobic back then and its not like bro and dave had a sincere talk about gender and sexuality in the 13 or so years they lived in the same house like why would you even come out to your younger sibling if you could just not !!! Lol !!! I could be getting all this info wrong lol so correct me if im wrong but bro has this cute comic artstyle and it was about someones charge (? Sibling?) straight up dying and the saw guy makes an appearance the end , like there was no sex or gore or whatever but if you look at sbahj the second page literally has an incest sex joke like where does dave even get his material from , which online sites has he been trawling , well haha its not bros job to monitor his kids search history lets ignore it and move on if the kid wants to be gross and make dumb jokes who is he to judge , spread your problematic wings and soar into the cancel clouds little guy

Anyway heres a disclaimer: if youre gonna clown on this post and tell me im an abuse apologist or some shit just understand that i have a lot of free time and love being a huge asshole when provoked but like youre so welcome to add to the discussion i love bullying my favourite character bro strider by steamrolling him we’ve talked about trans rights for too long now is the time for trans wrongs

#//1 #sorry for airing my grieviances on your ask addie Q_Q i hope you do not mind </3 #Bro strider #sometimes i do want bastard trans rep like we cant all be purrfect #Heres more bastard trans guys in homestuck: eridan cronus sollux karkat equius gamzee caliborn hal

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jungshook69 · 3 years

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7 dates~(BTS imagine)

DISCLAIMER: This doesn’t represent the members’ actions or the army’s actions in any manner it’s pure fiction. This is an original work, do not copy.

WORD COUNT: 1.3k words

PAIRINGS: BTS x reader (OT 7)

WARNINGS: none

ABOUT: This is an OT7 imagine, of how I personally think each BTS member would take you out on a date:) A girl can only dream am I right?

Jungkook strikes me as the type of person to go on a date where he can’t mess up. We all know Jungkook is a perfectionist and literally good at everything so I would think he’d like to take you out on a date, while simultaneously showing off his talents. Personally I feel an idealistic date with Jungkook would involve going bowling. Of course he would ask you if you were okay with it, and if you refused he would come up with another plan, but if he were to suggest any date idea first, it would be bowling. You would spend the evening bowling and enjoy a quick meal in the food court later on. Jungkook would also go as far as to teach you the right way to bowl, which could also amount to some amount of teasing and flirting, at how bad you are at it. But overall, you both would have a good laugh and memorable time. Personally I don’t feel like he would make too big of a move at the end of the night, maybe just a tender goodbye kiss, as he drops you off home.

Yoongi would most probably go out on a movie date with you. Now this movie date wouldn’t be just a normal one, no. It would originally be at a movie theatre, where you somehow managed to convince him to watch a horror movie with you. But Yoongi, who hates horror movies would just end up dozing off, while you would get bored of how awful the vfx are. You guys would ditch the movie during the interval, and would end up going back over to your place to watch Netflix instead, and cuddle up on your couch. Of course popcorn and soda is a must. Mid-way through the sappy romcom, you would end up dozing off on Yoongi’s shoulder, and he would make sure to wrap your form in a cozy blanket, and hold you close to his chest, soaking in the comfort and warmth you radiate. I personally feel that although Yoongi may frown upon physical contact, but he has a special exception for it when it comes from you. The night would end up with you two cuddling and falling asleep on the couch.

A date with Seokjin, according to me, would be quite an interesting one. He would tell you dress in your fanciest attire, and invite you over to his place. Once you get to his place, you’ll see him dressed in an expensive looking tux, only to find out that you won’t be going out somewhere fancy, and that instead he’ll be making you a 3-course meal by himself. Of course he asks for your assistance in the kitchen, and you being klutz, he needs to help you with everything, but he doesn’t mind, because its you. Along with some bickering and teasing, he finally sets out the candle light dinner outside, in his massive balcony, a beautiful view of the city to accompany you. He wouldn’t be one to make intense eye contact, instead choosing to shy away and laugh every time he meets your eyes. And of course his ears would most definitely turn red when you shower him with overflowing compliments about how good dinner was. When you decide to leave, he would stop you, and plead you to stay the night over, whether it be to cuddle or do something more, I’ll let you decide.

A date with Jimin would most definitely involve dancing. Personally I feel like he’d be a great club dancer, as in he would be good at simply grooving his body to the loud beats of the club music instead of performing a whole-ass choreographed routine in the middle of the dance floor, hazy and sweaty underneath the flashing disco lights and under the influence of alcohol. The date might start off with Jimin being quite shy to come out onto the dance floor, but once the alcohol surges through his body, he’s ready to claim you as his in front of the whole damn club. This date would be kinda risqué and might just end up with the two of you hooking up and going further too, but only with your consent. Jimin might come off a bit suggestive under the influence of all the alcohol in his body, but he would never go further and make a move on you against your wish. And personally I feel like we’d all be too entranced by a risqué Jimin to deny him.

I wouldn’t go with anything so obvious as a dance-related date with Hoseok, because personally I feel he’s one to enjoy the simpler things in life. He would take you out for a nice morning drive in his car, preferably a roofless one. The wind in your hair, and Hoseok’s hand clasping yours over the console is all that you need for this date. Just cranking up some tunes on the car’s radio on full blast, as you both sing your heart out. You guys would also make a quick pit stop at a nearby fast-food place, most probably a burger joint, and enjoy some takeout in the trunk of your car, sort of like a cute little picnic. After lunch you would drive around a bit more, maybe stopping by a few streets to admire the graffiti on the walls and obviously take tons and tons of pictures. You might also end up shopping as an impromptu decision because you love Hoseok’s sense of fashion. The date would end on sad note though, none of you wanting to unlink your arms from the other’s. A heart melting goodbye kiss, and a promise to see you again soon is how your day out would come to an end.

Taehyung would most definitely be dressed up in a suit and tie, or a fitting dress shirt, and would take you out for a dinner at a fine-dining restaurant. Keeping everything classy, from the formal attire, to the 5-star ambience of the restaurant, to the non-spicy food, he would make sure everything goes right as the night keeps going. You both would enjoy some red wine and might I add, even try and play footsies underneath the table. Moreover I feel that Taehyung would like to go on a date where he would get to admire your face and look into your eyes thoroughly. I feel like he’s always been one for that intense eye contact, so you would be falling right underneath his intent gaze, underneath the soft candle light on your dinner date. And just maybe too much of that alcohol might just be a catalyst for you ending up in his bed the next morning.

I feel that Namjoon is a man who really appreciates the smaller things in life. Of course he could just go down the ideal path, and take you out for a nice dinner, meanwhile flaunting his aura, but I personally think, this isn’t what he would really want to do. I think Namjoon would take you out for a picnic. A delicious homemade packed lunch and some sliced fruit in his bag, and he’s off for his day out with you. You both would either end up going hiking into the mountains and end with having lunch on the top most spot of the trek, the serene view of mother nature before you, or you both would end up going down to the beach, locking hands with each other, walking barefoot through the water and the sand, talking to each other about what’s going on in your lives, while enjoying the beautiful sunset by your side. The day would end up with you both being too tired to really do anything more, as you’ve been walking around all day, and you might just end up cuddling or going your separate ways for the night.

A/N: If you guys have reached this far, I congratulate you for not giving up midway. I really hope you guys liked it and also stay tuned for another little oneshot I’ll be posting after 2 days, along with a little surprise announcement.

Don’t forget to follow @jungshook69 for more content:) You can check out more works of mine here. Have a great day:)

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twilitty · 3 years

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Moonlit ch.3

This is the third chapter in my new fic Moonlit, it will be posted on Tumblr, ao3, and ffnet. New chapters uploaded every two weeks. Message/comment to be added to my tag list.

3.4k words

previous chapter

This chapter was not read over by a beta reader, so if you notice any mistakes please let me know in a private message. If you are interested in reading my chapters early and having a hand in the editing process, please let me know via direct message :)

Charlie arrives home from the new doctors household in odd condition. Bella becomes acquainted with a new friend and gets her first driving lesson.

Chapter Three

There’s something oddly comforting about the loud, thunderous engine of my new truck. It successfully blocks out all the thoughts I hope to escape from, and it does so in a way that does not involve the incessant pattering of rain. In fact, it completely eliminates the sound of rain, a miracle I hadn’t thought possible. I can’t imagine I’ll ever manage to repay Jacob for this gift, it means so much more to me than a couple thousand dollars and a way to get around. It’s my escape.

Charlie had gotten back from the new doctor's household late last night, his eyes bleary with sleep and arms hanging limp by his sides in what can only be described as a dead mans walk. I was used to the posture he held, all slumped over and distracted, as if he had gone on a three day long bender and returned empty of adrenaline and a will to stay awake. Renee had come home from too many “spa-retreats'' with that same form. Dead mans walk, that’s what her friend had called it when I brought it up. “Dead on the outside but more alive than you’ve ever felt on the inside,” she had explained with a distant smile, “awful to watch but beautiful to live out.”

It was strange to see my father, the stoic police chief, in that position. Perhaps he enjoyed his time at the new doctors house more than he thought he would, perhaps he enjoyed it enough to come in looking prematurely hungover and drained of energy. I wonder if he was drinking, or dancing, or maybe the new family- I blink my eyes hard, squeezing out all the muted light coming from the kitchen window. Stars dance in front of my vision once I open them again. Don’t think of what Charlie was doing there, I tell myself viciously. Please, I add on as an afterthought, as though my subconscious was privy to social niceties.

The clock on the microwave reads noon hour and my heart stutters. Charlie is still upstairs, dead asleep. He’s the one that wakes me up in the morning, always dressed and with a cup of coffee. But, no, he’s probably just tired from his long shift yesterday and maybe a little hungover. Only a little. In fact, maybe less than a little, maybe he isn’t hungover at all.

Soon, by which I mean no less than two hours after my initial worry over my fathers condition, he emerges from his bedroom and I can hear his footsteps lead into the bathroom. Good, I think, he’s awake before three in the afternoon. That must count for something. Perhaps- My thoughts, aimlessly trying to convince my subconscious that there is no reason for me to worry about the state of my middle-aged father, are interrupted.

“Bella?” Charlie calls quietly from the top of the stairs. He sounds like he just woke up from a long night out. Hangover voice is something I am very familiar with, although not from first hand experience. Any solace I had reached seconds ago comes crashing down into a pile at my feet.

I clear my throat, “Down here!” He comes down, feet stepping lightly on each step so as to barely make a noise. He enters the kitchen with a weary look on his face, as if I’m the one acting out of character. “Yeah?”

“What are you doing up so early?” He asks incredulously. I look at the time in the bottom corner of my computer, nearly two in the afternoon. I look back up at him with my eyebrows pinched.

“Char- Dad, it’s after noon.” My fathers eyes go wide, the whites showing prominently before squeezing down into a harsh blink. He turns to the microwave and his eyes blink violently again. “Dad?”

He doesn’t say anything, but his hands come together at the top of his head, interlacing over the brown hair he passed onto me. “I- I’m getting to work. I’ll see you for dinner.” He mumbles his words, the syllables pouring out into the air without any order. He retreats back upstairs with little more than a squeak on the floorboards, his eyebrows thick over his eyes with worry. The shower turns on quickly and I look back to my computer screen. I have to do some school work, Charlie is a grown man who can take care of himself.

I brew him a fresh pot of coffee, putting the creamer out on the counter even though I know he takes it black.

One of my favourite things about Forks, besides my new truck, is the ever present gloom that seems to permeate any mood you had prior to stepping outdoors. It’s like living in a depressive gothic novel written in nineteenth century England. Obsessively torturing the protagonist with dramatic metaphors and the blatant use of personification with inanimate objects like lampshades and tea kettles. I walk outside and my brain fills with run-on sentences about the state of my personal emotional evolution or the true crime of humanity being the amount of introspection that we would require to understand it. Almost compulsively, I assess my morals and the ethical value of my actions as if the rain draws out my inner philosopher. It’s dramatic and moody and unpleasant to experience.

Yet, I find myself drawn into this trance of deep inner thought and revel in it.

This is what I am doing when I park outfront of The Diner and walk through the front doors. My mind is occupied with drawn out thoughts that sound closer to Shakespeare than a girl who is barely passing her summer courses. My footfalls seem to almost perfectly fall in tune with my thoughts. I wonder if I’m walking funny, I think suddenly with a pointed look at my awkward steps. This is an issue with spending so much time alone in such a gloomy town; you forget other people exist. I pick up the pace of my footfalls and try to let my legs work naturally, but now that I’m aware of my walking I am incapable of walking naturally and feel like an oaf.

It is while I am walking like an oaf that someone calls out, “Isabella Swan?” My shoulders tense up to my earlobes and suddenly my feet are capable of walking without direction and almost steer me back through the front doors. Instead, I look up from my rough boots and meet the smile of the girl standing behind the counter cutting the large room in half. I try to ignore the stares of the other patrons.

The girl standing behind the counter looks to be about twenty and has brown hair just past her shoulders, similar to mine except for the fact that hers is shiny with the indication of product and care. A wave of self consciousness rolls over my shoulders, my dull, limp hair is suddenly as bright as a neon sign in the dead of night. “Bella,” I correct her, forcing myself to step up to the counter. “Everybody calls me Bella.”

She nods knowingly, as if she’s heard this before but just wanted it confirmed. Another wave of self consciousness crashes over me as the possibility of small town gossip arises. Does everybody already know who I am? I don’t like the thought of Charlie telling the town his eccentric ex-wife's daughter is coming to live with him, even if he said it politely.

“Yeah, that makes sense. Isabella is kinda a mouthful and takes like three whole syllables just to say it.” She shoots a hand across the laminate countertop and exposes a line of white, straight teeth. “I’m Jessica, not Jess,” She clarifies with a sarcastic eye roll. I take her hand, warm and soft, in my own and give it a polite shake before letting go. “Nobody calls me Jess, it sounds like it’s short for Jessie and when I think Jessie I think either golden retriever or blonde surfer dude and I am so not either of those things.”

“Jessica’s pretty,” I say with possibly a little too much enthusiasm. I haven’t spoken to someone as bubbly as this girl since Phoenix and I am poorly out of practice.

“She is, isn’t she?” A male voice calls from my right. It’s as if Jessica had spoken it into existence, because suddenly a blond surfer dude- minus the surfer- is sitting only three stools over.

“No, no,” my face flames and I quickly raise my hands in surrender. “I meant her name.” Then, looking at Jessica I see she’s chewing on her bottom lip and her dark eyebrows are scrunched down. I wonder if she practiced this expression in the mirror, it looks too perfect to be impromptu. “I mean, not that you aren’t pretty,” I clarify and her eyebrows shoot up as the blonde boy snorts. “I mean-” But Jessica raises a hand to stop me from torturing myself any further and drops the lip from between her teeth. “Listen, Bella, I know what you mean you don’t have to run in circles.” She says it in a way that insinuates I’m not the first person to fall into this situation with her. “You aren’t the first girl I’ve wooed with my tragically good looks.” This is not what I expected. The blonde boy snorts again but it sounds more like incredulity than a laugh. I open my mouth to interject, though I’m not sure what I will say, and Jessica widens her eyes at me. “Bella, girl, I’m joking.”

My mouth widens into an uncomfortable smile that likely looks closer to a grimace. She shakes her head at me with an expression that reads oh Bella even though we’ve only just met. I get the impression that Jessica is an easy person to be friends with and also decide that I will be coming to The Diner more often. “Now,” She says, “What did you order?”

I recite my order and she pushes open the swinging doors adorned with old license plates and bumper stickers to retrieve it.

“I’m Mike.” This is from the blonde boy, and he says it with a small wave that very much so indicates that he has lived in this town his whole life. People in big cities, people in Phoenix, don’t wave like that. It’s too small and kind and friendly, there isn’t enough neutrality for him to be from a big city. He’s inviting me into a conversation with the impression that I want to be invited. Small towns and sickly rom coms are the only places where this happens.

“Bella,” I respond, although he must already have heard me introduce myself to Jessica earlier. “It’s nice to meet you.” I tack on the last part in a likely failed attempt to come across as if I belong. It’s not that I want to be nice or friendly like Mike, it’s just that this will be far less awkward if I at least try to fit in.

“Likewise.” We lapse into a comfortable silence, or at least he appears to be comfortable in the silence. I am not. My blood seems to have congealed in my veins and is refusing to pump itself into my heart. Am I getting enough oxygen? Yes, yes, I am getting enough oxygen. I know this, but my body does not know this and so instead of trying to formulate some clever comment I try to level out my breathing and suck in as much as possible without seeming weird.

Three uneven breaths later and Jessica pushes out of the kitchen doors holding a large brown bag with a receipt stapled to the folded lip. She places it in front of me and I take a deep breath, suddenly grateful that my lungs are working and for the delicious smelling food. “I’ll pay with debit?” I don’t mean for it to sound like a question but it does. I can almost hear my mother scolding me, you need to be more assertive. You get stepped on if you’re too polite. I know she’s right but I ignore her anyway.

“No need, already paid for,” she says with a wide smile. “The cook says hi.” I take it, then, that the cook is the one who paid for my dinner.

“Oh, really that wasn’t necessary.” I produce my debit card from my pocket, holding it out as if it’s perfect evidence of my ability to pay. “I have money.”

“If you really wanna make it up to me I can take your number.” Renee would like Jessica, she’s assertive. I shake my head a little but still take out my phone and hand it to her. She punches in her number quickly, perfect nails tapping lightly on the screen before handing it back. Her own phone beeps. “Have a nice night, Bella! Text me whenever.”

I say goodbye to Mike and he waves kindly, almost immediately afterwards turning to talk to Jessica. They wave as I leave and I can feel the eyes of The Diner on my back as I leave the building and enter my truck.

It’s almost two days until I get a chance to talk with my mother, and within those days I accomplish more than one would expect of a girl who is so well acquainted with procrastination. Namely, I received a text message from Jessica. We conversed lightly, her with heavy use of emojis and me with improper use of punctuation and perhaps not enough enthusiasm. I know this because almost immediately after I send her my reaction to a movie she watched she calls me.

“Bella,” she says in a tone that insinuates both exasperation and light humour. “I swear, girl, you are so hard to read.”

“I know, my grammar-”

“No, no,” she cuts me off. “I mean I have no idea if you even wanna talk to me or not.” I’m shocked into silence, of course I want to talk to her. I enjoy talking to her. It seems I’ve been severely lacking in the friends department and it’s no recent issue. Ever since Phoenix I’ve remained forcibly independent, it’s nice to have people my age to talk to.

“I- I can use more emojis?” It comes out a question and my mother is back in my head, assertive assertive assertive. Jessica gives a triumphant laugh and I get the impression that this was her goal all along. “Okay, okay, I get it. I’ll try to communicate better.”

She just laughs and we hang up and continue texting, but not before she informs me that we will have to set up a schedule to meet in person. Apparently even with emojis in my armoury I am “more fun” in person. Who would have thought?

Within the two days before I call my mother I also get my first driving lesson with Jacob Black. He drives over in his fathers old truck, which he can no longer use due to the wheelchair. Jacob informs me of this with a smile that tells me he’s inherited the truck.

He bounces out of the vehicle with a giant grin on his face and his hands clasped excitedly behind his back. I could all but feel the excitement radiating off of him in waves. He had come prepared too, as I later found out, when he inserted a CD into my cars radio system. Soft rock echoed sweetly throughout the cab and Jacob drummed his fingers over his knees. “You gotta love ‘em, right?” He asked redundantly. I nodded, not knowing who I had to love or why, but just enjoying sitting next to him and listening to him talk.

He walked me through the gear shift. It sticks when you move directly from park to reverse, so I should always pause on drive for a moment first. We practice this in the driveway a few times before taking to the residential streets. We mostly talk during the drive, him giving me all the Rez gossip and me providing him with the meek details of my online school experience and my conversations with Jessica.

“She’s really nice,” I tell him as the trucks engine growls loudly at the stop light. “Loud, but loud in a nice way.” He nods in the passenger seat as if he completely understands, which I do not find difficult to believe. I wouldn’t be surprised if everybody in town was his friend.

“Yeah, I know a few people like that.” I’m proven correct. “Like there are just so many things going on inside them they can’t contain it.” I nod absently but my mind shifts to the first part of Jacobs comment. I wonder how many friends he has? I can’t imagine he’s unpopular, or even shy, he’s just too exciting and fun. His smile makes me want to smile.

“What?” He enunciates slowly with a slow head turn. I look away quickly, my eyes steadily focused on the bumper in front of us. I didn’t mean to stare at him.

“Nothing.”

“No, what?” I pull into the next lane, making sure to check over my shoulder twice. Maybe if I don’t pay attention to him, maybe if I just ignore- “Is there something on my face?”

I look over, baited into meeting his eyes. A big palm runs over his mouth and he pulls it back as if to inspect it for markings. “No,” I assure him. “There’s nothing on your face.” Then, my lips widen as if with a mind of their own, and suddenly I’m grinning. “I mean other than-”

He guffaws out a laugh before I can finish my comment and looks over at me with a smile mirroring my own. “Bella Swan, were you about to make a joke?” I shoot him a half-hearted glare and realize that this is all too easy with him. Jacob is like an overactive puppy, so easy to excite and quick to make you smile. I also realize that I seem to really enjoy the company of this particular overactive puppy.

“I make jokes plenty of times,” I retort with a quick glance in my rearview mirror. The houses have transitioned into a tree line and the previously residential road boasts a higher speed limit. “You most definitely do not. I remember being kids, you were always the sensible one.” My heart skips and my field of vision narrows to the space above the steering wheel. The road is slick with rain, I doubt I’ll ever see it dry. “You used to ask Charlie to put bandaids in your little backpack, just in case…” his words continue, detailing how mature I was for a first grader. I made decisions way past my age and was the first one to disinfect surface cuts and scrapes. I was the only one to disinfect bloody knees and palms, even though the sight made me sick. “It was like you just had to take care of everybody else.”

He looks over to me, I can see him in my peripheral vision, but instead of looking back I force my lips into an open smile. I hope it comes across as genuine. “I had a thing for first aid.” It’s a poor response. Anybody could see through my shallow sentence and many people would call me out on it. Tell me that for a girl with such a large vocabulary it’s odd for me to suddenly have nothing to say. For a girl who claims to enjoy this boys company I seem to be going out of my way to deter him from ever calling me again.

“Take a left up here,” Jacob says and his hand juts out to point at a beaten gravel road. It cuts into the forest at a haggard angle which makes it nearly impossible to maneuver, but I do so with more than minimal effort and release a heavy breath once we are on it. “Okay, now try to merge back onto the road.”

“What?” The odd, and clearly impossible, request pulls me out of my self-pitying thoughts. “Jake-”

“If you can’t do it that’s fine, just switch seats and I’ll drive.” The devilish glint in his eyes provokes some deep, hidden piece of me that craves competition.

“You just miss Betty,” I say with perhaps a little too much vindication. He doesn’t seem bothered either way and simply shrugs his large shoulders, the russet skin reflecting the light of another car's headlights as it passes on the main road.

“Yeah, I do.”

taglist:

@musingsofvenus @maybesandohnos

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renoslies · 4 years

Note

If it isnt too much then could you do the sfw alphabet for cloud or reno (or both!! btw who'se your favourite character?)

a/n: my favourite is cloud but reno and aerith are very close behind! i’ll post them separately since it’s a bit long, here’s reno’s first.

A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

Reno’s super affectionate (mostly in romantic situations)! He’s probably pretty cool with PDA too, but if his s/o doesn’t like it then he’ll tone it down as much as he can. When you’re sitting down reading, doing paperwork he’s for sure gonna hug you from the back and distract you.

B = Best friend (What would they be like as a best friend? How would the friendship start?)

He’d be the kind of best friend that makes fun of you in a playful manner, making sure not to take his own antics too far.

C = Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

Reno would love to cuddle, especially with the one he loves most (you). Big spoon? Little spoon? Depends on his and your mood. Taking you away from work-related stuff and bringing you to the bed or couch just to cuddle is a hobby of his.

D = Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?)

As Turks, it’d be hard to leave the job and settle down so he just wants to make things work the way they things they are now. Reno never learned to cook so you’d definitely have to watch him while he’s trying to make something on the stove.

E = Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

If he had to break up with his s/o, he’d be unusually serious. His usual, bright demeanour would leave the face of the planet and he’d tell them straight up.

F = Fiance(e) (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?)

He’s going to want to take it slow. Marriage wouldn’t come up quick because Reno wants to be 110% sure that the two of you are going to last because him caring for someone strongly in this romantic way is rare.

G = Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

Physically, Reno’s super gentle with you. To him, you’re just a fragile, porcelain doll. Must protect!! In fights, his eyes will never leave your figure, you getting hurt is the last thing he wants.

H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?)

He loves hugs. Reno has no problem with walking around the Shinra building while hugging you from the back.

I = I love you (How fast do they say the L-word?)

Before the two of you are together, he says it as a joke, but when you’re actually together and official, he doesn’t say it until he’s sure that what he’s feeling is pure love.

J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?)

Reno gets jealous but not as much as people would expect. If someone starts flirting with you he’d just try to make it obvious that you’re already into him by wrapping an arm around your waist.

K = Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

The first time he ever kissed you was on the back of your hand after walking you to your house, but that was when you two were still in that playful, pre-romantic partners state. Reno’s actually too worried you won’t kiss back if he does it first so he waits until you make the advance.

L = Little ones (How are they around children?)

Reno does not know how to act around children. He doesn’t think they’re that cute but doesn’t think they’re ugly. One time a little lost girl ran up to the two of you while on patrol in the Sector 5 slums. You insisted that the two of you find where she came from and he carried her while you looked for her caregiver.

M = Morning (How are mornings spent with them?)

Waking up to Reno’s arms wrapped tightly around you is commonplace, so is him nuzzling into the back of your neck.

N = Night (How are nights spent with them?)

On the rare nights with no Turk business, Reno just likes to relax at home with you. Imagine: An upbeat song coming up on the stereo while you’re cooking, earning a little dance between the two of you.

O = Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

Reno begins to get personal after an unexpectedly long amount of time. Sure, you know the general stuff like what his favourite sweet is but his childhood? You’d have to wait for a little.

P = Patience (How easily angered are they?)

He just gets mad when he doesn’t do something right, never at you.

Q = Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?)

He forgets the less important stuff but will definitely remember your favourites and significant moments in your life that you’ve told him about.

R = Remember (What is their favourite moment in your relationship?)

Every day with you is greater than the one before, but the day you accepted his impromptu confession was the best.

S = Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?)

He’s very protective, but not to the point where it gets annoying. Reno knows how capable you are and won’t get in the way of you doing anything.

T = Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

Reno’s a cheesy romantic. On your anniversary, Valentines day, dates, he spoils you rotten. He really does try his best to make you the happiest.

U = Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?)

Not really a terrible habit but Reno’s stubborn and will do things the way he thinks best.

V = Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?)

He’s super concerned but at the same time, knows he looks good. The only one he’s really trying to impress is you, though.

W = Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?)

He’d feel significantly alone. Sure, he has Rude but without you by his side, who’s he gonna hug and flirt with now? Reno L-words you a lot.

X = Xtra (A random headcanon for them.)

Reno loves when you brush or play with his hair. The way your hand brushes through calms him.

Y = Yuck (What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?)

He doesn’t like when people think he doesn’t take his job seriously, because he takes it very seriously. Never underestimate Reno of the Turks.

Z = Zzz (What is a sleep habit of theirs?)

This man will cling to whatever there is next to him. Unless he’s hugging you or a pillow, he’s going to steal the blanket.

––

thank you for requesting, i’ll be writing more now <3

#reno x reader #reno ff7 #FF7R #reno of the turks #reno

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starr-fall-knight-rise · 5 years

Text

Humans are Weird “Drugged”

You will all have to forgive me for not posting the last few days. I went on vacation with family then had a couple tests and then ended up in the ER, so busy week, but i cooked something up for you all. Forgive me if it has issues, see above paragraph or my excuse :)

It is not specifically a human phenomenon, the use of chemicals, to help and support the body. It is, however, a much more complicated field of study for humans. Most species react the same exact way to a drug that any other member of their species would. Many of our species have found specific drugs that cause only minor physiological side effects despite their potency. The system of the non-human body has multiple unrelated systems that are unaffected by one specific drug or another

Humanity on the other hand, is a different story.

The cocktail of chemicals in the human brain integrate into a system that provides the body with a perfect storm of reactions. While most aliens only experience the physiological side effects related to the action of the drug upon an injury , say a numbing sensation or the reduced motility of digestion, humans are some of the only known species to experience extreme psychological effects due to drugs.

In many cases humans will present with wildly different reactions to the same drug as presented in this paper. Though, I find that the most interesting drug reaction, in humans to be those that take place in the brain, specifically the ones causing, or related to sedation, weather that sedation b mild or complete.

…. Let's be honest though, I mostly just find it entertaining.

***

The board of surgical experts was getting ready to convene their conference about human anatomy when it happened. The Summit was taking place on the rundi homeworld courtesy of the GA council. Humanity had proven to be the most difficult species to treat, not simply for their staggering ability to stay alive, but for the numerous drug actions and reactions that could take place in the body.. Rill had been planning to do a lecture during the session, but as per usual, he was cut off by the humans.

The council doors thundered open and one of the marines ran into the room causing quite a stir. Those clinicians who had never before seen a human gasped in shock and awe at the creature’s powerful speed and grace. He came skidding to a stop at the center of the room, barely winded head turning, dark eyes frantically searching the room and zeroing in on Krill, who stood at the front of the auditorium.

“Kill, Krill, something happened. We need your help like, right now..”

If krill had had the capability to roll his eyes, he would have. Taking care of humans was a disaster sometimes. The rest of the auditorium took to their feet in curiosity and, fear, in some cases.

“What happened now?” he wondered

The marine rubbed the back of his head a little sheepishly, “Well uh, we were just messing around.”

“Save me the story and get to the point.”

The marine’s shoulder;s slumped, “The commander dislocated his shoulder.”

The room muttered in some confusion.

Krill sighed, “Of course he did because who else would it be.” He turned back to look at the other assembled medical professionals, “Well come now, class. It seems that today has favored us with a perfect teaching opportunity.”

Hesitantly the rest of the medical professionals followed watching the human prowl along before them with some trepidation.

They found the human sitting outside on the steps of the GA headquarters cradling his arm in one hand as two others attempted to help him support the it, “Shit, shit shit, this hurts.” The man moaned piteously. One of the assistants shifted as he saw the group of doctors coming, but quickly returned to position as the human yelped in pain, “Shit, not like that…... “ Many of the medical professionals had never heard a human distress call before. It was a surprising amalgamation of moaning, hissing and the occasional yip, not to mention the strangely random words, that later had to be explained as profanities.

Krill took charge immediately moving up around the side of the human and dropping down to examine the injured limb.

“Morning doc.” The human said voice unusually slow.

Krill thumped him lightly over the back of the head, “always, always you. Every single time I am busy your body decides to malfunction.” The human mewed pitifully.

A hand raised, “is hitting them in the head part of the treatment.”

Krill sighed, “Only for this one.” He moved over to the side of the human pulling up the strange fibrous covering to reveal the horrible disfigurement below. The medical professionals gasped and muttered in surprise. The skin about the upper limb was bowed upwards unnaturally the arm held awkwardly out before him. What horrible accident could have caused an injury like that…. Well they couldn’t have said. It would be a horrible issue to have for the rest of his life.

Krill prodded around the skin, “Can you feel this.”

The human nodded. Despite what must have been excruciating pain the human had now become very quiet. Its single, wide green eye, the other one was covered by some sort of strange patch, was glassy and distant. When he was asked a question, his answers were clear and concise but very slow.

“alright , the group of you pick him up and bring him inside, try to keep that arm still.” They watched in surprise as a team of humans coordinated themselves to pick up their fellow, grabbing him about the uninjured arm and legs. Awkwardly they shuffled him inside to where Krill ushered them, slowly placing him onto the demonstrative medical equipment that had turned into an impromptu hospital. The other aliens gathered about.

The human refused to lay back hissing in pain when the arm was jostled into the wrong direction.

Krill turned to look at his audience. “What I will demonstrate next is a simple procedure.” At his words the crowd looked rather skeptical muttering and chatting to themselves, “The bone has been pulled from the socket and needs to be reset as soon as possible. It will be a simple push inwards to correct the damage. However, The muscles about the injury may tighten making it difficult and painful for the patient while awake, so we will induce unconsciousness and give analgesic medications for the pain.” He ordered a few of his people around as the human cradled his arm staring off into space with a blank expression. He continued to be responsive and answer questions though he was even slower than normal.

With some instruction from the doctor, the other professionals brought forward the correct medication.

Krill huffed when he saw the label on the bottle.

“Something wrong doctor?”

“No,” Sigh, “He’s just a handful coming out of this one…. Is this all we have.”

“I am afraid so.”

“Well I suppose we are all in for a treat then.” he responded. Adjusting a clear tube about the human’s face running under the protruding sensory organ. Another was being instructed on the placement of an IV into the vein of the hand seeing as the human would not unfurl himself to allow access to the inner arm.

Once that was done, the drug was administered. The human’s eye closed, and he went limp falling backward, lowered slowly by a few other humans, seemingly unaware of the pain that he must have been in, “Now it is important to keep a human speaking after the initial trauma even if you may have to ask the same questions multiple times. Now intense pain and shock can sometimes have similar symptoms, but as long as the human is responsive everything is alright and you don’t have to worry about shock. I wouldn't consider a dislocation something that will cause shock in most cases.”

He moved forward, “Now we are going to do what is called a closed reduction, and simply pop the tip of the bone back into place. I will position my hands here and here, and-” Those with especially good ears heard he grinding pop as the bone slid back into place, the convex surface of skin that had been displaced before falling back into its original position.

They grimaced. It looked horrific.

Krill demonstrated the administration of pain medication and gave a time estimate of when the human would likely to wake up.

“Be warned, these medications tend to have a very severe effect on the cognitive function of a human, you can expect to see mood changes, confusion, slurred or slowed speech, inattentiveness, difficulty focusing, and in this one’s case the need for hand restraints.”

The room muttered.

“You will see why.”

***

Krill had not been lying. The human woke slowly foggy green eye out of focus on glassy. His hands pawed at the blankets below him wandering over the bed until he found the tue to the IV. Krill was forced to pul it away.

“Commander… Commander, how are you feeling.”

The human’s head lolled to the side flopping limply to one side, “Where am I” His speech was slurred just as predicted.’ He grabbed at the Iv tube again, and Krill was forced to pull it away, “No, keep still ok.”

“Okayyyyy.” The human responded groggily.

He seemed pretty happy for someone who should have been in tons of pain.

“How are you feeling?” Krill repeated.

The human didn’t answer head turning this way and that eye wide with curiosity. He looked at his arm, “Oh….. my arm is ok…. That’s gooooood.”

“Commander, try to focus.”

The human did not focus.

Instead he reached a hand out to prod at the little nodes attached to his chest. He began peeling one away. They were forced to take his hand.

“Commander.”

“Yeeee?”

“Can you answer my questions?”

The human nodded widely grinning,, but then seemed to completely forget what he had been asked reaching a hand out to touch one of the machines before being intercepted, “Hey, hey, hey.”

“Yes commander.”

“Wait…. I i forgot… I’m not making any sense…. Am I making any sense.” He glanced towards his arm, “oh my arm is back in place…. That’s good.”

“Yes .” Krill said reassuringly

In the next moment a Drev stepped into the room. She was small for her species, but with a striking electric blue carapace. She walked over, “Why do you insist on getting hurt when I’m not here.”

The human didn’t answer staring at her with a wide green eye. She paused by the bed, and he continued his scrutiny reaching out a hand to stroke the armor of her forearm, “Pretty…. Blue is my favorite color. My best friend is blue too.”

“Adam, I’m right here.”

The human looked up, “Oh ... hi, I didn’t see you there. I saw someone who was just the same color as you, “Pretty…..”

“That was me, Adam.”

“Ohhhhh….. Wait…. That was you.”

“Yes, Adam, that was me.” She didn’t seem perturbed by answering his questions instead taking his hands gently in two of her four and immobilizing them as Krill attempted to slip a sling over one arm.

The human whimpered.

“You’re ok.” the Drev said, “I just need you to hold still.

The human mad a few more distressed noises before becoming distracted by something else, “Sunny, Sunny.”

“Yes Adam.”

“My shoulder is back in…. That’s good.”

The Drev seemed amused, “Yes, that’s very good.”

And then the human started to cry. It was very strange, they had neer seen that before. In fact they didn't think it was physically possible to move so quickly between emotional states. Apparently humans leak from the face when they are upset. A few of the physicians postulated that this may have been an evolved way to gain social attention from other humans. It seemed to work even on nonhumans and the Drev let him hug her arm.

“What’s wrong, Adam.”

The human shook his head, “I-dont know.” That seemed to upset him even more until something else caught his attention and he was back to being as pleased as he had been originally. The drug was everything and more than Krill had said it would be. The large Drev had to keep the human’s hands immobilized, and even then he still managed to cause trouble. It was a wonder that humans managed to do anything in their daily lives if the inside of their heads were like this. Their attentional ability normally must have been herculean to focus this dumpster fire.

It was extremely interesting to watch the human slowly recover himself. At some point he finally began to understand that he wasn’t acting normal despite still acting abnormal. After that came the ability to pay attention and converse normally. Even then he was still doing things that only made sense in a roundabout way.

His voice was no longer slurred, but slow. He seemed almost groggy, but not quite. His previous emotional state had evened out.

“Feel like I got hit by a train.” he groaned. One eye flicked about the audience, “Shit, I didn’t interrupt anything did I?”

Krill let of a deep sigh, “sometimes I wonder if it is your mission in life to interrupt everything I do,” He raised a hand to cut off the human’s apology, “And AS USUAL you somehow still managed to be helpful.”

And that is why the new transuniversal internet currency is not videos of cats, but humans waking up from surgery because, let's be honest, humans on drugs are kind of funny

#humans are insane #humans are space orcs #humans are space australians #humans are space oddities #humans are weird #earth is a deathworld #Earth is space Ausralia

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astrodances · 3 years

Link

Inspired by this post. Prequel to this fic. Accompanied by this art.

*****

Moon

Scrooge stands just out of reach of the cabin, his arms tucked together, the door left open.

He needs the air. He needs space.

Tonight, the woodbin is too small for him and everything racing through his mind. Too crowded for him and a certain metal box, so he lets the box have the bin, and he stretches his legs.

His eyes wander up to the sky, searching.

It seems the spring thaw is allowing for one more show of the aurora borealis right above them before the endless days of the Klondike summer take over. The valley around him glows with colors of shimmering green against treetops and sparkling patches of melting snow, and the creek dances in time with the lights above.

It’s a spectacular sight, like all the splendors of nature have gathered just for him, but it’s not what catches his eye.

Instead, his gaze travels the arc of the sky down to the horizon, where a lone full moon awaits. She’s beautiful, so beautiful and stunning and bright. And golden.

Scrooge can’t believe how golden the moon looks. It’s as if all the power of the sun is shining through her, so that she’s brighter than any gold nugget lying below his feet, or in his lockbox. He can’t stop staring at her, can’t help wanting to brush his fingers over those delicate golden locks again—

Scrooge freezes, and not from the cool night air.

Even out here, his mind keeps automatically wandering back to all the treasures in the cabin behind him, and he turns towards it, sighing. The light of the moon pours through the open doorway, allowing him to see the edge of his woodbin, his table, his chair, the silhouette on his bed...

Deep down, he knows what he has here inside is precious, something to cherish.

But years of life experience insist that it’s a trap. A trap different from any other he’s encountered, what with her feminine wiles and sultry voice, but one ready to ensnare him nevertheless. It’s what she does for a living, just to con men out of their gold, and he curses himself for ever falling for it.

...At least, that’s what he tells his heart. He’s just another snake being lured to the charmer. That must be why his heart keeps fluttering the more he mines gold side by side with her on his claim. Why every comeback from her draws him closer. Why every slip-up about his lockbox makes him turn red.

It must be.

Because there’s no way on Earth that Goldie O’Gilt could ever love—

“Scrooge?”

The duck in question nearly jumps out of his feathers, and he snaps his gaze to the figure leaning against the doorframe of the cabin, arms crossed and her hip jutting out.

He must have zoned out—his face is on fire, he’s sure of it.

When she gets no answer, Goldie continues, a restless night—many of them—thick on her voice, “I know there’s a full moon, but if you think I’m starting work this early, you can just forget about it!”

Scrooge looks between her and over his shoulder at the moon, then shakes his head. “I—no. No...” He can’t bear to look at her now, not yet. “I was jes’ stretching my legs.”

“That’s what you get for sleeping in a woodbin, miner.”

There’s a challenge hidden in her reply, one that he can’t quite make out, but he senses it nevertheless.

So he rises to it.

“Look who’s talking, Miss O’Give-Me-a-Mattress.” He smirks, gaining confidence. “Stiff back keeping you up?”

Goldie grumbles, not in full retreat, but enough for Scrooge to know he’s hit a sore spot, literally. If it wasn’t for him dragging her up to his claim, she’d probably be back in her own warm, comfy bed in Dawson, not facing the onset of early back pain.

But before he can offer any remorse, or answer with some quip about how that’s what she gets for stealing his nugget in the first place, Goldie mutters something akin to “I’ll show you a stiff back,” leans down, and gathers a handful of snow from the patch closest to the cabin. When she stands up straight again, there’s a dangerous glint in her eyes and before he knows what’s happening, Scrooge gets a snowball to the chest that sends him staggering back a few feet.

“And for the record,” Goldie adds, pleased with her shot, but frustrated still. “It wasn’t my back keeping me up, it was someone forgetting to close the door again and letting all the cold in!”

This—this kind of fire, he can deal with. He can fight it.

“Bah! The cold air is good for ye, keeps your mind sharp!” he yells, running to gather up his own snowball from an opposing—and safely-distant—patch. From this angle, he can see more aurorae looming over his cabin. The two sourdoughs, the sky—everything seems to have come out to play tonight.

His snowball grazes the skirt of her dress (he’ll blame the shadows near the cabin for the poor aim later), just as another of hers sails past his ear and a third hits his shoulder.

Goldie’s laughing now, and it’s a sound that Scrooge could listen to forever, were it not for her reason for doing so. “Oh yeah? If that’s the case, then what’s your excuse, Sharpie?” she taunts, already tossing another snowball in her hand.

Yep, the fight is definitely on.

There’s not much in the way of cover except for the sluice and mine shaft, neither of which have enough snow near them, so the impromptu fight morphs into a game of chase around the cabin as time goes on. Insults are thrown just as much as snowballs, but beneath it all, that fire, that longing, burns ever brighter, and Scrooge catches himself smiling more than he’d like to admit.

Yet with a move just as deceitful as the moon can be in how fast she moves, the game comes crashing down.

At some point, Scrooge thinks he’s earned the upper hand and finds himself perched on a low-lying rock a few feet out from a corner of the cabin, giving him a perfect view of both adjacent corners. His arm is poised, snowball ready to strike, and he’s already reveling in the fact that there’s no way Goldie can show herself now without him seeing her first.

Victory is in his grasp, but a piercing whistle from behind him snatches it away.

Goldie doesn’t bother with words.

Scrooge turns, completely perplexed at her levels of stealth, but before he can get out even a baffled “But how?!”, a snowball as hard as his nugget (he briefly considers that this is it, this is the moment she’s decided to steal it again) nails him in his solar plexus, and he goes flying to the ground.

The blow isn’t as bad as he expected it to feel, once the initial shock wears off, but his eyes stay clenched shut for a good few seconds longer than necessary. He can hear Goldie drawing closer, can practically already hear her gloating. But it’s the sensation of her leaning down over him, her legs on either side of his hips and her hands pinning him in place just above his shoulders, that makes him finally open his eyes.

And when he does, he gasps.

If he thought the moon was beautiful before, it has nothing on the sight above him now.

Goldie towers above him, silhouetted by curtains of the glittering green and fiery red spirits of the aurorae dancing against an endless night of stars. The light bounces off her hair as it gently waves in the breeze, highlighting each strand of golden silk thread as they press against her blossoming cheeks. Her dress dazzles and her feathers glow in a halo, and his every breath leaves him.

He’s beholding beauty in its purest form, a glimpse into the heavens, the heart of the universe, he’s certain of it.

There’s a hint of concern hidden in her smirk, but Goldie doesn’t express anything more than a simple, teasing, “I win, Sourdough,” before moving to get back up.

“Don’t,” Scrooge whispers softly, automatically, bringing his hands up to rest on her forearms to stop her.

Goldie takes on a look of confusion even as her blushing deepens, but he can’t help it. He can’t let her go, not now. Not yet. Not until he’s mesmerized every defining curve, every flame of light filling his view.

And her eyes. Her eyes seem to hold every answer he’s ever searched for. He can see reflections of snow, of the lights, even of himself (and how red his face is), alongside a realization that hits him hard, bringing time to a standstill for him.

He’s in love. With Goldie O’Gilt.

Scrooge audibly gulps, quickly becoming aware of the electricity between them and how close she truly is.

“Scrooge?”

He’s not sure what she wants to ask, only that the tension in her arms has relaxed under his grip. He takes that as invitation enough to lift a slow, trembling hand up to caress her cheek, letting his fingers weave into her hair. For all the time he spent looking at the lock of hair in his strongbox, admiring its softness, nothing can compare to the real thing.

“You... I...” he begins, his pulse racing. There’s no way he can tell her, not what’s really on his mind, in his heart.

So he shows her instead, tugging her closer to him to meet in a kiss that causes the lights above to roar with energy, a month’s worth of suspense melting into every second. She answers the call of his heart, and to his delight, he finds hers waiting for him to claim it.

And thus, under the flickering gaze of the aurora and moon, of power and beauty, their dance begins.

#DuckTales #Duck comics #The Life and Times of Scrooge McDuck #Scrooge McDuck #Goldie O'Gilt #scroldie #The Prisoner of White Agony Creek #my fanfics #astronomy

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hermannsthumb · 4 years

Note

90+96?

90. Unexpected Virgin + 96. Scars

from fanfiction trope mashup here

continuation of me filling ancient, 2 year old prompts in my inbox! sometimes you just gotta return to the basics and write post-movie first time :’) this is the first thing ive written on my new laptop, MOMENTOUS OCCASION. as u might have guessed 18+/NOT SFW BELOW CUT

—————

They’re about an hour into the impromptu We Didn’t Die! party currently ravaging the base when Hermann–stripped out of his sweatervest, and clutching his cane like a lifeline–suddenly grips Newt by the forearm and swings him around to face him. “Newton,” he declares, as the contents of Newt’s plastic cup slosh to the floor, “I would like to invite you back to my quarters.”

It’s probably due to the two shots of vodka Newt downed in quick succession about twenty minutes into the impromptu party that the innuendo flies right over his head, and, instead of accepting enthusiastically, he merely draws his face into a pout. It’s not unusual for Hermann to force him to go to bed, especially after a week of all-nighters in the lab, but now? During this? They’re practically guests of fucking honor. “To sleep? Lame. I’m not tired. Hey, unwind, have a drink!” He pushes his plastic cup into Hermann’s face.

Hermann pushes it away. “I believe you misunderstood me,” he says. “I’m asking you to have sex with me, Newton.”

“Oh,” Newt says.

They’re out of LOCCENT in a flash, and bursting through the door of Hermann’s cramped quarters in another. Newt has been fucking vibrating with energy all day long–excitement, elation, fear, straight-up terror–and he’s more than ready to unleash all twelve hours’ worth of it, plus twelve years’ worth of pathetic pining, on Hermann in the most awesome, cathartic victory sex the world has ever seen. And now that they’re finally alone–now that they’re finally alone together–

“I am so fucking horny right now,” Newt breathes. He kicks off his boots: one of them flies across the room and knocks over a precariously-balanced stack of books, while the other smacks against Hermann’s dresser and sends a photograph of Newt and Hermann crashing to the floor. “Holy shit, you have no clue. Oh my God.” Truthfully, he’s been sporting a half-boner since he threw his arm around Hermann in LOCCENT, and Hermann gave him that little smile and tucked up against him, but Hermann doesn’t need to know that.

Hermann’s eyes are dark, and his pupils are wide. He wets his lips as those eyes sweep over Newt. “I. Ah. I am, as well.”

“Fuck yes,” Newt says. He moves his hands to his collar, where he rips off his tie, but he stops at his buttons with a grin. He could at least pretend to play hard to get. “Hey, you want me to take my shirt off?”

“That’s typically what’s done, isn’t it?” Hermann says. “During–” He clears his throat. “During these sorts of things?”

“Right,” Newt says. “Okay, do yours too.”

They take their shirts off. Hermann is sporting a nice set of shoulders and biceps, and an even nicer set of pecs, and Newt thinks that trim waist would be the perfect size to wrap his fingers around, but his too-pale skin hugs his ribs a little too-tightly. There’s not a hint of hair in sight. The exact opposite of Newt, basically, in all his hairy, tattooed, out of shape glory. It’s kind of perfect. Newt bets they’d fit together like a pair of puzzle pieces.

He wolf-whistles before he can help himself. “I should’ve known you’d be even hotter under all those stupid sweaters.”

“Oh,” Hermann says. His mouth twitches up into a coy echo of his earlier smile. “Thank you. I think.”

Newt wants to get all over that hot bod, and so he does, inching up to Hermann until their stomachs brush and their chins bump, and planting his hands on either side of that neat, sexy waist. He’s right about it being the perfect size to grab. Hermann watches him through his dark lower lashes, standing perfectly still; he’s holding his breath. “I’m gonna kiss you now,” Newt says.

Hermann nods.

They kiss. It’s pretty cool, even if Hermann stands as stiff as a board, arms hanging limply at his sides, and even if when he finally decides to use tongue it’s at the moment Newt decides to use teeth and he ends up firmly biting down on it. “Ow,” Hermann hisses, pulling back sharply.

“Sorry,” Newt says. “I haven’t gotten laid in ages. I kinda forget how to, uh...” He tries to kiss Hermann again, but at Hermann’s darkening, skeptical expression, drops it. “Uh, you wanna take this to the bed?”

“Take off your jeans first,” Hermann says.

They stare at each other.

“Not–I mean yes, but–what I mean is they’re filthy,” Hermann snaps. “I’m not having you dirty up my sheets. Grime and blood and who on Earth knows what else.”

“Sure,” Newt says, and grins again. He fumbles with his belt and drops his jeans, and Hermann’s gaze drops too. Never one to pass up putting on a show, Newt tips his crotch forward to make his boner just that bit more prominent, and just that bit more in Hermann’s personal space. “Like what you’re seeing?”

Hermann nods.

Newt takes Hermann’s right hand and places it on his hip, just the waistband of his boxers. “You wanna take these off?” he says. He punctuates the question with a little kiss to Hermann’s throat. It’s so smooth–not at all like the scratchy, stubbly mess across Newt’s. He kisses it again, just ‘cause it’s nice, and feels more than hears the low rumble of a groan that rises in the back of it. Hermann’s shut his eyes.

“Ah–Newton–”

When it becomes clear Hermann won’t be sticking his hands down Newt’s boxers any time soon, Newt backs him up to his bed and pushes him down into it. Hermann sprawls backwards with a small thump. His cane clatters to the floor. “You gotta do some of the work here, dude,” Newt laughs.

To his surprise, Hermann flushes. “I’m sorry,” he says, “I haven’t much. Er. Experience, with this sort of thing. I’m not quite sure what to do.”

This comes as no small surprise to Newt. Hermann’s just…Hermann, y’know? He’s bitchy, and weird, and kind of weird-looking, but he has a sexy way of rolling his r’s and a sexy mouth and, apparently, a sexy bod, and if Newt–the guy’s certifiable rival–has wanted to get into his pants for ages, he’s sure he can’t have been the only one. But hell if the thought of being the first one to do it doesn’t turn him on likes crazy. “Luckily for you, I’m a pro at sex,” he lies. “I’m amazing. Just ask anyone. Wait, uh, not anyone, I don’t mean–”

“I know,” Hermann says. He sits up and plucks at Newt’s waistband. “May I take these off now?” He wets his lips again.

“By my fucking guest, dude,” Newt says.

Hermann tucks two elegant, nimble fingers under the elastic and slips Newt’s underwear down to pool around his ankles, finally letting his erection breathe a little. Newt leers down at him. “What about now?” he says. “Huh? You like this?”

But Hermann isn’t looking at his dick, inches from his nose though it is; Hermann’s looking to the left of it. “You have a scar here,” he says, and pokes at a small expanse of skin on Newt’s thigh between two tattoos.

“Uh,” Newt says. “Yeah, dude. I rammed into a table when I was rollerskating in the house once and had to get stitches.”

Hermann traces his fingers over the scar. “You must have been quite the handful as a child,” he says wryly.

The incident in question happened when Newt was twenty-four, but he decides it’s best to not divulge that particular bit of information to Hermann. “Uh. Yeah.”

Hermann reaches down and unbuckles his own belt, then begins to partially wriggle out of his stupid baggy pants and tighty-whiteys. “We’re matching,” he says. “Look.”

His left hip and thigh is a mess of scar tissue that Newt imagines, at one point, must’ve hurt like a bitch. Way more than Newt’s stupid incident with the roller skates. Way more than could even be compared to Newt’s stupid incident with the roller skates. But he smiles anyway: he likes the idea of it being some giant, flashing sign from the universe of their drift compatibility. “Have you looked in the mirror?” he says, and shuts his non-bloodied eye to make his point. “We’re not just matching there.”

“Hopefully not permanently,” Hermann says. He finally turns his attention on Newt’s dick, scrutinizing it like it’s one of his incomprehensible equations. It gets Newt even hotter. “Would you like to have sex now? I’m eager to put your renowned skills to the test.”

Newt doesn’t miss the sarcasm. It’d be kind of hard to. “Jackass,” he says. “Move over, I’m getting in.”

Hermann divests himself of the rest of his clothing and shuts off the overhead light while Newt makes himself comfortable on Hermann’s bed, though he leaves his small bedside lamp on to cast them both in a cozy yellow glow. All of Hermann’s room is shockingly cozy, in fact: the quilt tucked in neatly to his cushy mattress, the tea kettle on his dresser, the soft rug on the floor, the space heater (shut off) half-hidden in the corner. No wonder Hermann sleeps in so late. If Newt’s setup was like this, he’d never leave his quarters either.

“We could get under this, if you’d like,” Hermann says, pinching a bit of the quilt. “It’ll be warmer. It can get very chilly in here.” He fidgets. “And. Er. It’ll be easier to wash my sheets, rather than…”

“Yeah, that’s cool,” Newt says.

They move under the quilt. Hermann’s breath is warm on Newt’s face, and losing a layer seems to have imbibed Hermann with a newfound sense of confidence; his hands begin wandering across Newt’s body, up his sides, down his back, squeezing and pinching his skin, cupping his ass, and he layers kiss after kiss to Newt’s neck, his throat, his jaw. Newt rocks into each touch and moans helplessly.

“You’re so beautiful,” Hermann murmurs into his ear.

Newt laughs weakly. He’s gotten cute once or twice, but he doesn’t think anyone’s ever called him beautiful. It’s nice. He likes it. “Aw, dude.”

“You are,” Hermann says. “I’ve always thought you were. It’s been a terrible distraction in the laboratory.” He leans in and kisses Newt, still as graceless and chaste as before, but his low murmur has returned when he finishes, and it makes heat pool in Newt’s stomach. “Mm, sometimes all I could think about was how badly I wanted you.”

“Sometimes I used to jack off after we argued,” Newt blurts out.

Hermann blinks, surprised, and laughs. “Did you?”

“In the bathroom. Once in the supply closet. Nnh. Ah, fuck, Hermann, fuck–”

Bored of talking, apparently, Hermann’s decided to creep his hand lower and curl it around Newt’s dick. His touch is light, and unsure, and it kinda just makes it all even sexier. “I wish you told me this was your first time,” Newt whines out, pushing into Hermann’s fist. “I would’ve, guh, bought you dinner. Or something. We could’ve waited. Made it–made it meaningful.”

“Darling,” Hermann says, “this is perfect.”

Hermann kisses him; Newt comes, gasping and whining into his mouth. It’s a little embarrassing. He doesn’t think anyone’s ever called him beautiful, but he knows no one’s ever called him darling, and with Hermann the one being so sweet to him--it’s too much.

“Shit,” he pants afterwards, while Hermann examines the sticky mess on his fingers with mild interest. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to--I wanted to last longer.”

“Oh, we’ve got all night,” Hermann says, sounding pleased. He wipes his fingers off with tissues from a box on his bedside, then drags Newt’s hand under the covers to cup his own neglected dick, fluttering his eyelashes coquettishly. Newt swallows down a whimper. It’s not fair that Hermann is doing better at this than Newt. “I would like very much for you to touch me.”

“Okay,” Newt squeaks.

#newmann #maria's fanfiction tag #Anonymous #not sfw /////

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carefreejules · 3 years

Photo

Prologue – Broken Routine

In the middle of the void of darkness, a lone figure stands under a single spotlight as she feebly clutches the gleaming golden trophy in her small hands. She lifts up her head to smile at an audience who’s not even there. The single ray of light shuts off suddenly, enveloping her entire being into darkness.

Cold.

Lonely.

Muffled voices grow louder and louder, clearer and coherent. Filling the empty dark void with a cacophony of the same demeaning phrases that repeat like a broken record. The girl shivers from the darkness. She falls to her knees, as if being weighed down by the words themselves.

“You cheated.”

“You tricked opponents into feeling sorry for you.”

“You didn’t deserve to win.”

A tear falls. Then two. Until her eyes are blurred and overflowed with tears.

Through the sea of self-deprecation that drowns her mind, she weakly reaches out into the darkness and says,

“Help me.”

BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP

The girl in the dream jolts up awake, older now, her heart and mind racing from the adrenaline of abruptly being pulled from her nightmare. Her skin feels hot from the warm summer air that breezed inside of her room from an open window, but at the same time feels cold from the lingering darkness that clings to her body, refusing to let go. She shivers. Her sleepy cobalt blue eyes drift around her room, as if confirming to herself of the present and not of the past that creeps into her dreams every now and again.

Just to be sure, she pushes the covers off of her and wanders over to her blue messenger bag to pull out her wallet and Trainer ID.

Name: Juliet

Birthday: June 15

Home Region: Hoenn – Lilycove City

That was enough for her. She lets out a sigh of relief and turns her head to the wide mirror in the bathroom. She tiredly regarded her medium length wavy black hair with various stray locks sticking up in random places, the subtle bags under her eyes, and the baggy Mudkip shirt she wore over shorts that didn’t match.

“Good morning,” Juliet greets her reflection. Something comes up from behind her and nudges his head against her ankle. She looks down to see her Shiny Trapinch groggily nuzzling his head against her legs, silently requesting mutual affection. Her smile is gentle as she scoops up the baby Ant Pit Pokemon in her arms and plants a soft kiss on his head. Seeing her beloved pet Trapinch was enough to make her forget the dream she had.

“’Morning to you too, Pistachio. I have to get ready for work so be good while I’m gone, OK?” She told him gently. Pistachio nods obediently and squirms out of her arms to waddle back to his bed.

As she went through her usual morning routine, her Rotom phone hovered in front of her to deliver her morning updates that mainly consisted of the weather, missed calls or new texts, and the spawns of Pokemon that were likely to appear in the Wild Area via Power Spots.

“Rotom, are there any strong Raids that are likely to appear today?”

“Bzzzt! There is likely going to be a Dragapult Raid in Axew’s Eye. But, it will be raining.”

“Dragapult huh...Ghost and Dragon, but being part dragon means it potentially has a large type coverage.” Juliet mused to herself as she tightened the bright yellow tie around the collar of her black and white plaid Battle Cafe uniform. After successfully taming the knots of her bed head, she pulled her hair back into a high ponytail and slipped on her thick framed navy glasses. She took one more look at herself in the mirror for any obvious imperfections, filled up Pistachio’s food bowl, before grabbing her messenger bag and heading out.

It was a hot day in Wyndon, but the breeze that brisked passed her face as she biked along the route to work made it bearable. She wasn’t going to let a dream put a damper on an otherwise, beautiful day. The smell of coffee, tea, and pastries did wonders to calm her nerves, and she could vent out any frustrations on Raids after work.

The Battle Cafe came into view, making her jump off her bike to walk the rest of the way there. She slipped to the back of the cafe, carefully parking and locking her bike to a light post, and welcomed the scent of freshly brewed coffee that hit her senses the moment she walked in.

“’Morning, Boss!” Juliet called. Her boss turned his head back and shot her an easy-going grin. Richard, who casually lets her call him ‘Boss’, is the Cafe Master of the Battle Cafe, so he was the one who battled customers while she was just a part-time Barista.

“Top of the morning, kiddo! Alcremie and Slurpuff are in tip-top shape today so I have a good feeling about my wins today!”

“Ohoho...Is that so? I'll be paying close attention, then.” Juliet tossed out her Sylveon, whom she named Hilda, to help around the cafe as per usual. Her Pokemon was also popular amongst regulars and children for being friendly and playful; sometimes even putting on a little show for customers while they were waiting for their drinks.

Juliet fell into her usual comfortable rhythm, taking and making orders that came in, overseeing battles that were requested by customers – it was clear that today was just going to be another normal day at work. Before she knew it, the end of her shift came and she swiftly changed out of her work uniform into her usual blue varsity jacket, ripped black shorts, and grey beret before taking off to the Wild Area.

This routine was enough. She didn’t need anything more or less.

It was raining heavily over Axew’s Eye, but that didn’t stop Juliet from peeking into the stony well and tossing a Wishing Piece in its depths. She immediately took a step back as a huge pillar of energy shot up from the Power Spot and swirled ominously with power. A tell tale sign of a powerful Dynamax Raid. But she had travelled from region to region with her Pokemon and it wasn’t like this was her first time battling a powerful Raid by herself. She took off the soggy grey beret sitting on top of her soaked ebony hair before throwing her legs over the Power Spot and falling into its depths. She skillfully landed with her knees bent in a crouch to avoid impact in her ankles and rose to face the Dynamaxed Pokemon that was waiting for her.

A Dynamaxed Dragapult. As her Rotom predicted.

She hummed thoughtfully before sending out Hilda. Her Sylveon growled at the large Dragon Pokemon before her trainer summoned her back to be Dynamaxed. Hilda stood on an even playing field as Dragapult and unleashed Max Starfall as commanded. Dragapult recoiled and immediately put up it’s defences. The trainer didn’t expect things to go down hill so quickly from there. Breaking down its barrier wasn’t the hard part; but it was how many turns it took to attack and the range of the attacks, chipping off Sylveon’s health too quickly for comfort.

It became clear that this battle wasn’t feasible for one person.

Juliet clicked her tongue in defeat and returned her Pokemon before fleeing out of the Power Spot on her Flygon. Once the trainer was back on the surface, she called out her Sylveon to heal her up and reassured her of her efforts.

“It’s OK, Hilda. I was a little in over my head thinking I could do that Raid by myself. I might have to call the others.” She cooed while stroking her Sylveon. Hilda yipped sadly but nudged her face into her trainer’s hand. The trainer retired to her tent that she had set up a few feet away and as if on cue, her Rotom Phone started to ring.

“Hello?”

“Hey, Jules! You called saying you needed help with a Raid? Are you sure you should be doing raids in this weather?”

“Well, I thought it would be smart since there are less trainers around and the rain has let up a bit. I could use some help, though. This one’s a tough one.” Juliet replied as she dried her hair off with a towel with her free hand.

“Then, let me help! Where are you?”

“Axew’s Eye.”

“Ahh, so it must be a dragon Pokemon! Those are tough. I’ll be over in a jiffy!”

“Thanks, Mary!”

After 20 minutes or so of waiting, Mary peeked her head into Juliet’s tent. Mary was a member of their Raid group and one of Juliet’s good friends that she met when travelling to Johto.

Unlike the Gym Challenge, where young aspiring trainers take on the Gyms across the Galar region in order to participate in the Champion Cup, there was another sport that was rising in popularity for those who were looking for a more thrill-seeking experience that involved teamwork. Throughout the Wild Area in Galar, there are countless rock wells called ‘Power Spots’ that hid a massive cavern of Dynamaxed Pokemon, all varying in rarity and strength. Sometimes the Pokemon lurking underneath will make their presence known from the beacons of light that emit from their wells. However, rarer Pokemon are more compelled by the power of Wishing Pieces that are thrown in. Wishing Stars were not easy to come by, being meteorites that fall from space, making them a strongly sought out item for Raid teams.

The Raid team that Juliet is the ‘leader’ of, which she named ‘Raid Prism’, is considered one of the most well-known teams due to the fact that they were one of the first teams that started the boom of Raids in the first place. The boom was unintentional and started from a few impromptu Raids they took on when they first landed in Galar over a year ago. Juliet jokingly recorded and streamed their battles for something to look back on, until a steady stream of supporters tuned in with each Raid they took on thereafter. Her group weren’t really doing it out of competitiveness to see who could catch the rarest Pokemon or amass a collection of Gigantamax Pokemon – they’ve always done it out of the excitement of just fighting strong Dynamaxed Pokemon as a team. Their efforts were eventually recognized by Professor Magnolia, who hired them as Field Researchers in order to uncover the secrets of the Dynamax Phenomenon from the various Pokemon that were caught in the Power Spots.

Well, Field Researchers was a bit of a stretch since their job mostly just involved catching Pokemon that were requested of them. Because of this, their team wasn't blessed with the opportunity to hear the different theories that were thrown around over round tables about what was being researched, but it did pay well – well enough that the team decided to settle down in Galar for the time being in neighbouring flats in Wyndon.

But that hardly mattered at the moment..

Jules and Mary jumped into the Power Spot and, surprise surprise, were blown out from their defeat. Mary dusted off the wet dirt from her paint splattered patterned tights, wrung out rain water from her damp, curly brown hair, and grimaced down into the Power Spot.

“You weren’t kidding. I think this is the first Raid Pokemon I’ve encountered that could attack so many times and with so much range!”

“Do you think Tessu and Vanquil are available? I think we need the whole team for this one.”

The duo took a moment to call the two remaining members of their team and they arrived in record time. Tessu stared at the state of Mary and Juliet, who were soaked from the rain and their hair were also tousled from being blown out. The short haired trainer gritted her teeth.

“Yikes. How many attempts did you make?”

“Mary once, twice for me.” Juliet grumbled while pulling her hair out of their twin braids.

“Well, we’re all here now so let’s wrap this up, yeah?” Vanquil suggested while rolling his shoulders confidently.

“Why is this so hard?!” Vanquil yelled as he lay face first inside of Juliet’s tent. The others sat around him in defeat as they tiredly ate through their curry in hopes of adding fuel to their exhausted minds and bodies.

“Do you think we’ve finally been bested?” Tessu mumbled.

“I don’t think so. I think the best course of action is to work around how many times it can attack.” Juliet began.

“You mean like, figure out how to not get hit?”

“Exactly! Our Pokemon are strong enough to dish out damage and break down its barriers but the problem is stamina and it’s Dragon Darts attack.”

“Hmmm...Why don’t we use attacks that will make our Pokemon out of its range before attacking?” Mary thought out loud.

“Ohhhhh...like Fly or Dig? That could work! I also have a bunch of Guard Specs that could eliminate any debuffs our Pokemon get.” Jules turned to her Rotom Phone, which had been recording their conversation, and uploaded it to their team’s Pokegram. She always made a habit of recording as much of their Raids as possible for the purpose of helping and inspiring Raid teams. The comments were already flooding in with ‘you can do it!’ or ‘psh, it can’t be that hard’. Once they had finished their curry, they set out to the Power Spot in hopes that this would be the final attempt.

“This is working way better than I thought!” Juliet yelled as her Flygon, Tiki, flew towards the Dragapult to unleash Crunch, which broke through it’s barrier and weakened it. The Dragon Pokemon started to look worn out, signalling that it was almost down for the count. Mary’s Thievul dealt a final Night Slash before the Dragapult fell in defeat.

“Now, Jules!!” Vanquil shouted in her direction. Juliet quickly pulled out an Ultra Ball to Dynamax it and ran with it before jumping high and throwing it over her head with all of her might at the fallen Pokemon. The giant Ultra Ball opened and sucked in the Dragon Pokemon before landing on the ground with a heavy thud.

They all huddled together in anticipation as the oversized Ultra Ball shook slowly on the ground.

It shook once.

It shook twice.

It shook thrice.

The Raid team braced themselves for the Pokemon to break out, but the Ultra Ball glowed green and shrunk down to normal size. Vanquil threw a fist in the air and let out a loud whoop that echoed through the cavern while the other three sighed in relief and slumped to the ground in exhaustion. Vanquil went over to retrieve the caught Pokemon and helped them up so they could finally get out of there. But not before posting the recording of their battle and victory first.

The rain had begun to stop as they got out of the Power Spot one by one. Vanquil proudly twirled their Dragapult’s Ultra Ball on his finger before staring at it curiously. “What do you guys want to name him?”

“God.”

“My Worst Nightmare.”

“Hell?”

“Um...On second thought, I’ll leave it at that. I think we’re all a little traumatized right now.”

“Of course, Professor Magnolia. It was a hard one to catch but hopefully the Dragapult will offer something to your research. Yes. You’re welcome. Take care, OK? And say hi to Sonia for me. Good night!”

Juliet had never been this happy to be back in her flat before. She was soaked from head to toe from the rain and her body ached from over-exertion. Thank Arceus she didn’t have work the next day and she could spend the day sleeping in and lounging around. The trainer took a long, hot shower, threw on her so-called pajamas and was ready to knock out for the day.

Another day came and went. Another routine, unbroken and passing by peacefully-

RING RING RING RING

Until her Rotom phone started ringing.

She whined exasperatedly and was ready to tell the telemarketers off upon taking a quick glance at the unfamiliar number. Her exhausted body screamed at her to ignore it in favour of sleep, but her thumb instinctively tapped the answer button anyway.

She tried to put on her friendliest, at work, voice for the person on the other line.

“Hello?”

“Good evening. Is this Miss Juliet?”

A mature woman’s voice, she deduced.

“Yes, it is. Who is this?”

“My name is Oleana. I’m the secretary to Chairman Rose.”

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

Chapter 1: New Job and Old Connections

In the middle of the void of darkness, a lone figure stands under a single spotlight as she feebly clutches the gleaming golden trophy in her small hands. Except this time, she doesn’t raise her head to smile. She barely acknowledges the ghostly hands that run through her hair across her back, coddling her but with no warmth to speak of.

Cold.

Lonely.

The muffled voices returned, growing louder and louder, clearer and coherent. Filling the empty dark void with a cacophony of empty compliments and reassurance. Or, were they actually empty?

She didn’t know. She didn’t know which voices to believe.

“You did amazing!”

“You’re so strong!”

“I want to be like you someday.”

Why wasn’t she happy? Why couldn’t she be happy? Who cares what other people thought? As long as there was someone who believed in her, that’s all she needed, right?

Wasn’t making her parents proud, enough?

BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP

Instead of jolting awake, Juliet’s eyes fluttered open, letting the few tears escape down her cheeks. Recalling the fragments of her dream made her heart uneasy, and her hands shaky. No matter how many times she saw those dreams, she could never get used to them. But, at the same time, she knew she couldn’t dwell on them. Ignoring them meant they would eventually go away, right?

Right.

Turning over to her Rotom phone, it reminded her of the important meeting with Oleana and Chairman Rose that was scheduled for her Raid team, from the call she got a few days ago. She couldn’t recall specific details of the call amidst her initial excitement but she knew that the opportunity given to them was an honour to receive. Thinking about where the job could lead them, filled her with the enthusiasm she needed to force herself out of bed and get dressed.

After sifting through her wardrobe for a good hour and a half, mentally cursing herself for not having many business or formal appropriate clothes options, Juliet settled on a blue blouse with black pants to wear for the meeting. Her hands instinctively went up to her hair to tie them into their usual braids, but perhaps she looked a bit more mature if she left her hair as is.

She didn’t really know what she was doing. Travelling all over the world didn’t leave many opportunities for her to dress up for the occasion.

“This should be fine.” She told herself.

“Trapinch?” Pistachio called out. She turned her head to the baby Pokemon, who waddled over to her feet and gazed up at her curiously. He probably was just as unfamiliar to her current attire as she was.

“Me and the others have an important meeting to go to. But, do you want to come with me? It must be boring being at home, but you have to be good, OK?”

“Trapinch!!”

“...This is a really long elevator.” Vanquil grumbled while tapping his foot impatiently. It certainly wasn’t an understatement. The Rose Tower stood over 1000 feet tall, overlooking all of Wyndon and beyond. It’s sleek, futuristic architectural design was fitting for Chairman Rose, the one in charge of the Pokemon League and president of a large business conglomerate known as Macro Cosmos. Even though they were inside of the Rose Tower and about to meet the man himself, it still didn’t feel real.

The elevator finally slowed to a stop, and the doors finally opened to reveal Oleana and Chairman Rose waiting for them on the far side of the room. Rose stood up from his executive chair and beckoned them out of the elevator with a gentle grin.

“Come in, you four. No need to be shy.”

Easier said than done from a man with as much power and money as one could only dream of.

Juliet was the first to exit and firmly shook his hand. “Good day, Chairman Rose. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“Likewise. The things you’re doing for Dynamax Research on top of contributing to tourism, I’m very grateful to see the Galar region thriving especially with the Gym Challenge fast approaching.” Rose added.

“Tourism?”

“Why, yes. With your group and many others making a sport and spectacle of Max Raid Battles, we’ve seen an increase in visitors from all over the world who come to visit the Wild Area for themselves.” Rose motioned them to sit on the leather couches, where tea and other refreshments were spread out in front of them.

“I’m glad! The Galar region is a beautiful region and the Wild Area is just one of the few reasons why we’re so happy to be living here. Right?” Juliet asked, turning her head to her friends, who were already treating themselves to the snacks offered to them.

“Right! We’ve only been living in Galar for over a year, but it’s been really fun doing Raids and inspiring trainers to go out into the wild to see what the region has to offer.” Tessu replied.

“We’ve also been looking forward to the Gym Challenge since in other regions, it’s not as hype up as it is here.” Vanquil added..

“Thank you for reaching out and giving us the opportunity to be co-hosts of the event. But, if I may ask, why us?” Mary asked with a tilt of her head.

“Well, on top of your group playing a part in Dynamax Research, I believe your group in particular will be able to offer different insights of battling since you all come from different regions, correct? That will surely make commentary more interesting and entertaining.” Rose then handed them each an application to fill out, along with an outline of the upcoming Gym Challenge.

“Please look over the application carefully and feel free to flip through the outline of Gym Challenge so you can familiarize yourselves on how we operate it.”

Juliet flipped through the application carefully, choosing to read over the contents first instead of filling it out right away. As the group fell into a comfortable silence and their noses were practically buried in the terms of service, they didn’t notice the person that came by to join them.

Even though he wore his signature fur lined red cape and his signature snap back on his head that never failed to turn people’s heads in his direction.

“Sorry I’m late! I took the wrong monorail on the way here.”

“It’s alright, Leon. Our new employees were just getting settled in.”

CLATTER

Leon. That name made all of them freeze. Juliet didn’t know which one of them dropped their clipboard and pen, but as if in tune with her teammates, they all raised their heads at the same time to look at the legend himself.

Champion Leon.

“L-L-L-L-Leon!” Mary, Vanquil, and Tessu shot up from their seats like a group of Spoinks, eyes sparkling with endless awe and excitement. Juliet watched in amusement as her friends stumbled over questions and compliments of admiration, but...shouldn’t she be sharing in the glee as well?

At least, that’s what she thought. Watching the Champion soak up the praise being sent in his direction, and seeing him smile through each question with ease – something about the scene felt...oddly familiar. But not familiar enough where she could pinpoint when and where the feeling came from.

Her shoulders tensed when his burning golden gaze fell on her. She felt...uneasy being stared at, especially by someone with a strong, overwhelming aura as his. Was he sizing her up? No, it didn’t look like it. His head cocked to the side and it looked like his eyes were searching for something. Then, his eyes lit up in recognition and the wide smile he sent her was all teeth.

“J, right?”

J? What kind of an alias was that? Juliet blinked confusingly. Her mind repeating that name over and over in her head, trying to pull up the memory of the name – if there was any at all.

J, J, J…

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Right...Wait. What’s your name?”

“My name?”

“Yeah. You’re not wearing a name tag like your aunt is.”

“...Call me J.”

“J? That’s it?”

“Is that weird?”

“No! In that case, you can call me Lee.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Lee.” She blurted out. The memory that flashed in her mind was hazy, but there was no mistaking the foggy images of her helping at her aunt’s inn in Lavaridge Town, along with a purple-haired teen around her age, who was staying at the inn for a vacation. She could barely make out his toothy smile and youthful spirit, that seeing the teen mature into the man in front of her, made the memory feel more distant than ever.

“You remember too. I’m glad! Do you think you can tell me your name now?” Leon joked and outstretched his hand to her. Juliet looked down at his hand, trying to recollect the sudden wave of memories that washed over her. Where did they come from? And why did it take until now for her to remember them? She didn’t want to keep him hanging for long so she swallowed down the uncertainty before reaching out to shake his hand.

“It’s Juliet. Sorry for keeping you in the dark for so long-”

“Stooooooooooooop! Hold on!! You two know each other?!” Tessu interjected in between their handshake. Juliet scratched the side of her cheek and looked to the side sheepishly. ‘Know’ wasn’t the word she would use. Especially since it seemed like Leon had a better memory than her.

“Something like that. It felt like so long ago but, back when I used to help my aunt out at her inn, Leon and his family were on vacation and they stayed at the inn.”

“That’s right. I think I was around...16 maybe? I’ve never forgotten how hospitable your aunt was during our stay. Or how you almost beat me in a Pokemon battle.” The Champion laughed fondly at the memory.

She did? Oh boy, she really did have a bad memory to forget something like that.

“You almost beat the Champion of Galar in a battle?!” Vanquil gawked in disbelief.

“And you didn’t put two and two together when we came to Galar?” Mary wondered, leaning against Juliet with a suspicious gleam in her eye. Juliet pushed back against her with a pout. Was now really the time to catch up?!

“Look, so much happened after that! I travelled around the world, met you three, came to Galar, etc. If I’m remembering correctly, Leon was a bit more scrawny and his hair was shorter back then.”

“I wasn’t that scrawny.” Leon retorted with a pout of his own.

“Well, it seems you’re all getting along better than I expected!” Rose’s chuckle snapped them back to the task at hand, making them pick up their neglected applications that were left on the ground.

That was...a bit embarrassing to say the least. But at the same time, reminiscing on one of the happier periods of her life, it brought back a youthful cheeriness that she hadn’t felt in years. It felt nostalgic. Refreshing even. Perhaps Leon had that effect on people. His positive and confident aura could pick people back up without needing to say a word.

No wonder he was so loved and looked up to like a King.

Even as the meeting continued without interruption, the Champion couldn’t help but steal a few glances in her direction. Anytime their gazes met, he’d shoot her a toothy grin, which she responded to with a sheepish smile. For what reason she didn’t know, but unlike earlier where she wanted to shrink from his gaze, his occasional glances felt comforting.

Like a dandelion basking under the sun.

“You’re going to be working with Leon?!”

“Mind toning it down, Boss? The whole cafe doesn’t need to know.”

“But, I’m so jealous! If there’s one person I want to battle, it’s Leon!” Richard lamented dramatically as he stocked up the shelves and display cases with more pastries and coffee beans. Juliet leaned against the counter, allowing herself to recover from the end of the lunch rush and pouring herself a cup of tea.

“Maybe you’ll break the record for shortest Pokemon battle-” She said with a smug grin on her face. Her boss threw a dirty rag in her direction out of retaliation, but she caught it easily and tossed it into the sink. Still, she’d love to see such a battle.

“Are you sure you don’t want to take less shifts? Seems like a lot to juggle with being a Field Researcher and a co-host now,”

“It’ll be fine. There’s going to be gaps within each gym for challengers anyway especially since many of them are going to be exploring the Wild Area for the first time. Don’t worry about me, Boss.” Just as Richard opened his mouth to respond, the front door opened with the tell tale jingle of the bell above the door, signalling Juliet to bow politely to welcome the customer as she became accustomed to do as it was second nature.

“Welcome to the Battle Cafe! Are you interested-”

Juliet felt a sudden sense of unease wash over her. Black trench coat, a black baseball cap, dark sunglasses, and a white face mask. Did this man know it was the middle of summer? Or maybe it was a woman? She couldn’t tell how when their trench coat was consuming their body like a black hole. She didn’t mean to judge someone on appearance alone, but even her boss wore a face that told her he was suspicious and nervous too. Swallowing her anxiety, she stuttered,

“A-Are you interested in battling the Cafe Master for a complimentary Casteliastone if you win? Or would you like to make a regular order?”

The man approached the counter, drawing curious eyes to him as he searched through his trench coat for what she presumed to be his wallet. Or worse-

“I’ll take a regular coffee. One milk, one sugar.”

A normal order. Juliet let out a breath of relief she didn’t know she was keeping in. “That will be 250 Pokedollars, please. Can I get a name for the order?”

“...Dande.”

“Thank you, Dande. Your order will be served to the left of you.” As he walked past after giving her an affirmative nod, she could have swore she saw a flash of familiar purple hair from under his hat. She hummed curiously, narrowing her eyes at him to see if he would break under her persistent stare. Even when his head turned away, she could see the beads of sweat that were streaking down his copper skin.

Was it from the heat or her glare? Maybe both.

When she set down his finished drink and he reached out to grab it, she leaned over the counter and whispered, “You know it’s summer, right Leon?”

The man let out an exasperated sigh and lowered his sunglasses enough so she could see his familiar golden eyes. “And here I thought I had a good disguise.”

“Sure, if you want people to think you’re a serial killer or a drug dealer. I think you’re drawing more attention with this disguise than if you didn’t wear it at all.”

Leon laughed nervously at the few weird looks he was getting from the other patrons of the cafe.

“I see your point.”

Juliet rolled her eyes and untied her apron from her waist. It wouldn’t be a good idea for him to go back out into the sweltering heat without cooling down a bit first. She was technically off the clock now, so she’d put him out of his misery. “My shift is done now, but I’ll be hanging around in the back for a bit before going out, Boss.”

She came out from behind from the counter and beckoned Leon to follow her through the ‘Employees Only’ door, where a blast of cool air washed over their bodies. It wasn’t like the cafe itself didn’t have AC, but with the amount of hot drinks that are served and the cool air that escapes through the front door, it was only somewhat cool. Once the door closed, the Champion practically ripped off the trench coat and face mask, sighing with contentment at the AC air cooling the sweat off his neck.

“Thanks, but am I allowed to be back here?”

“It’s fine. Some regular customers like talking to me and when they have bad days, we talk back here on my breaks. My boss already knows and is cool with it especially since they leave big tips.” Juliet looked at his discarded trench coat that he left on the floor. “Just don’t steal anything.”

“Of course not. But, it looks like I’ll have to look into a different disguise.” Leon muttered.

“OR, you could just wear seasonal appropriate clothes like a normal person.”

“I wish I could, but it’s hard going out when you get stopped so often by fans...Not that I mind, it’s just...”

“You just want to be treated like a regular civilian?” Juliet finished for him as she plopped herself down on one of the spare cafe chairs. Leon followed suit and rubbed the back of his neck, his gaze fixed to the floor as if reluctant to admit to himself that, yes, he just wanted to be treated like a normal person instead of someone on top of an impossibly high pedestal.

“Yeah, something like that.”

She didn’t want to push him to reveal anything to her, but she thought it was a fitting opportunity to catch up with Leon in hopes of filling in the missing pieces of her foggy memory. She folded her arms over the table and looked at him with a carefree grin.

“So, how’s your brother? He was pretty small the last time I saw him.”

“He’s doing great! I’m actually going to surprise him and his best friend with their starter Pokemon next week along with endorsement letters for the Gym Challenge by yours truly.” His hesitant demeanour vanished, replaced with bright optimism from talking about his younger brother.

“Oho, looking to dethrone his older brother, huh?” Juliet teased lightly.

“It’s always been a dream of his and I’m excited to see how strong he’ll become. This year’s Gym Challenge is shaping up to be a game changer, I can feel it. Which means I have to train thrice as hard!” The Champion flexed his muscles for added flair, making the barista snort in her hand.

This was the Leon that everyone knew. The Undefeated Champion who answered the calls of anyone who dared challenge him. The Undefeated Champion who pushed himself to the limit, so challengers in turn, could push themselves. It was a wonder how he had so much determination, the courage to reach new heights and be one of the strongest of them all.

Strength...Something Juliet wished she had or at least, the bravery to acknowledge the strength she did have. What was it like? To believe in yourself and have the power to instill courage in everyone else? These were questions she couldn’t ask him, at least not right now.

Whatever the answers to those questions were, she did know one thing – seeing the Champion of Galar give it his all for his family, friends, and fans, to push the boundaries and prove to everyone what he was made of,

She was going to do the same.

Then, hopefully one day, she’ll be able to look at herself in the mirror and say,

“I’m strong and I’m proud of myself.”

“So, you’ve moved to Galar, huh?” Leon noted after taking a sip from his coffee.

“Yup. That’s partially thanks to Professor Magnolia for hiring my team as Field Researchers after seeing how capable we are in Max Raids.” It was a humble brag, but a brag nonetheless, and she’ll always feel thankful for the opportunity.

“Chairman Rose filled me in about that and I couldn’t help but watch some of your Raids afterwards. They’re a lot different from competitive battling, but you guys look like you’re having a lot of fun and I’ve learned a lot from just watching.” Leon pulled out his Rotom phone and opened up the recent Raid they did against the Dragapult.

Ah.

The Dragapult they ended up naming Dragon Lord, much to Magnolia’s amusement.

“This is probably my favourite Raid your team did. As a proud owner of a Dragapult myself, they’re pretty resilient to deal with.”

“You can say that again. Dragon Darts is such a pain.”

“Heh. Viable move when you’re the one using it, though.” Leon’s eye then wandered around the staff room of the Battle Cafe, skimming through the shelves of coffee beans and other stock items. “I guess it doesn’t really surprise me that you’re working here too. You’ve always been a hard worker.”

Juliet grinned gently. He really paid attention to little details about people, huh?

“I thought it would be good to get a side-job to get to know the locals since we didn’t know anyone upon moving here. Ease ourselves into Galar society, you know?”

“And, how’s that working out?”

“Pretty much settled in at this point! Though, I’m still on the fence about using Galarian slang every day like ‘lad’ or ‘mate’...” She grimaced. “...It sounds wrong when I say it.”

“Pft! Of all the things to struggle with. Come on, it can’t be that bad. Try it out on me.” Leon egged her on teasingly, casually leaning his cheek on a propped up hand.

Seriously?

Juliet stiffened considerably and her face looked like she sucked on 50 lemons from how scrunched up it was. “H-Hey, mate. H-How’s it going…?”

…

The Champion stifled a snort in his hand, but he couldn’t exactly hide the chuckles that followed right after. He had forgotten how funny and silly she was, enjoying the moment of carefree laughter despite how disapprovingly she glared at him. “I think you should stick with what you’re used to.”

“Haha, laugh it up.”

They hadn’t realized how long they were spending just talking. Getting each other up to speed about what the other had been doing, sharing stories about their travels, talking about their Pokemon – there were no shortages of things to talk about when each conversation jumped from topic to topic, neither Leon or Juliet losing interest in each other's stories.

Only the sound of a cup shattering to the ground could cut through their conversation. Their heads whipped around to see Richard with his jaw dropped, and a broken cup of tea by his feet.

“You were talking to Champion Leon this entire time and didn’t invite me?!”

#pokemon #pokemon sword and shield #swsh #champion leon #fanfic #jewels art

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lovelilijazunde · 4 years

Text

And It All Fell Down

Fic: And It All Fell Down

Writers note: Hey, this is my first fic I’ve posted on here, so, while constructive criticism is nice, please try not to be too harsh. This is a fic I wrote for @deafgirl-and-hercoven ‘s Heir AU, which you should check out if you haven’t already.

Ships: Romantic Dukeceit/Demus

Warnings: Remus being Remus, zombie mention, Virgil, Patton, and Roman being kind of jerks (If I need to retag, tell me! Still new at this)

Word Count: 1822

Summary: Remus, Deceit, and Princess have had a relatively secret life together for the past six years. No one knew about Princess, and Remus and Deceit didn’t really advertise their relationship, but then an unexpected Summoning raises questions.

It had been a relatively normal day in the Dark Side of the Mind Palace. Princess had woken Deceit up at one in the morning for no real reason, and they had fallen back asleep reading, cuddled in a huddle of blankets stolen from Remus (he was a space heater, he didn’t need them). Princess had gotten up to work out with Remus roughly four hours later, giggling as she sat on the bar while Remus benched twice her weight, and sitting on his back as he did push ups. Then Deceit had woken up around noon, reluctantly leaving the blanket nest, and Remus had left Dee and Princess alone for the day.

The two of them had amused themselves quite happily. They colored in the coloring book Remus had made for Princess (begrudgingly, he had made them PG13), read together from some of Princess’s favorite books, and Deceit had juggled apples using all of his arms - all of Princess 626’s favorite things. A normal, everyday routine.

Now, though, they had decided to try something different. And messy.

“Stop wiggling!” Freezing, Deceit tried not to smile as Princess grabbed his face again. “If you keep moving, I can’t make you look pretty!”

They were in the Dark Sides’ living room, where Princess 626 had decided to have an impromptu makeover session. And, really, who was Deceit to deny her? They had snuck into Remus’s bathroom and borrowed some of his makeup products. He was still off bothering Thomas, probably would be for hours more, and wouldn’t mind them using his stuff, anyways. He would probably be delighted that Deceit was allowing himself to be unprofessional enough to apply makeup at all, much less let Princess 626 do it.

Deceit was standing relatively where Logan would stand in Thomas’s living room, and Princess 626 was standing on a stool in front of him. He had offered to sit, to make her job easier, but she adamantly refused. She wanted to feel tall, Deceit, presumed. He could relate.

Deceit looked down at his princess softly. Her rainbow-dyed hair was loose around her shoulders, and she was frowning in concentration, completely absorbed by her work. Her hetero-chromatic eyes were squinted, with only slivers of the red and purple irises visible. Her dress, a miniature version of Deceit’s tunic, had the sleeves rolled up to her elbows, her nimble hands were liberally spotted with excess makeup and freckles.

As they were each doing the other’s makeup, Deceit had offered to go first, to show her how it was done, but Princess adamantly refused, insisting that she knew what to do and how to do it. She had allowed him to apply his own mascara though, as she understood that it was not always pleasant when another would do that for you.

Princess carefully applied a layer of lime green lip gloss onto Deceit before noticing that his eyes were open, and told him yet again to close them.

“Don’t ruin the surprise!”

Trying not to smile, Deceit closed his eyes again. It was impossible not to be happy when 626 was around.

***

“Ugh, Remus, why don’t you just leave Thomas alone?” Virgil snapped.

Remus hid a flash of hurt behind his ever-present painful grin. He was having fun, right? Pestering Thomas, scaring Patton, annoying Roman . . . the usual interactions. Virgil wasn’t having it today, though. He wasn’t scared by Remus’s antics anymore. He used to help Remus - their jobs were easier when they worked together. But Thomas got older, and then Virgil didn’t want to help Remus anymore. Then he used to shiver and shake when Remus used to imply particularly lovely things, but . . . now he would more often treat him as if Remus was an annoying child who needed to be silenced. Remus squashed the anger that always bubbled in his chest when he thought about Virgil down. Who cared what the anxious side thought? He obviously didn’t care about Dee or Remus, so why should Remus care about him?

“Why, you should ask yourself that, Emo Nightmare! Aren’t you just as bad?”

“No! Virgil would never hurt Thomas!” Patton interjected, offended, ever the defender of his famILY. “I don’t see why you have to hurt him, either.”

Remus wanted to growl at him. Remus was just doing his job. It wasn’t his fault that Papa Pretentious had a stick up his ***. Ugh, even his thoughts were censored when he was too near the Moral side. How would Patton like it if Remus was able to shut him up about what he like to talk about? Deceit could do that, but not Remus. He was the opposite. Just think, no more puppies, kitties, cookies . . . Hmm, would Patton stop liking puppies if Remus put zombie dogs in his room? Ooh, should Remus shape shift into a zombie dog and take a chunk out of Patton’s leg? Maybe that would shut him up. He wouldn’t need Deceit for that. Remus decided to address this question to the general room. Patton flinched, and Roman groaned.

“Why must you always tell us what goes on in that creepy head of yours?” Remus’s brother complained. Remus wiggled his eyebrows.

“What, I thought Thomas wanted to be honest with himself? Isn’t sharing being honest?”

“You know what, Remus, I think we could benefit from a little less honesty out of you.” Thomas finally said, annoyed. Logan glanced at him, eyebrows raised.

“Well, Thomas, if a little less honesty is what you wish, shouldn’t you summon Deceit?”

Thomas blinked. “I . . . well, I mean, if you think I could deal with both of them at the same time, sure.”

Remus felt his smile falter. While he was always glad to see his boyfriend, he and Deceit both knew what would happen if Princess was left alone - poor kid. He started to speak up, to stop them somehow, but he was cut off as Thomas raised his arm and commanded “Deceit!”.

***

Princess added the finishing touches, and Deceit was still trying not to smile. “Okay, just a few more seconds, then you can look!”

Deceit waited a few seconds, but there was silence, and nothing touched his face. He started talking as he opened his eyes “Princess, are you done?”

He wasn’t in front of Princess anymore. He was in front of the other Sides and Thomas, who were staring at him as if he had shown up in a clown suit. Oh, no. They must have summoned him. And he not only was looking completely unprofessional (he wasn’t wearing his hat, caplet, or gloves) he was wearing makeup (probably obviously) applied by a child! They would either think him incompetent or insane. And there goes that respect fear factor.

Deceit suddenly felt guilty of thinking badly of Princess’s work - Princess! He had left Princess alone with no warning. And when had he popped up? What if they heard him say her name? No, no, no, no, no!

“Deceit?” asked Logan quizzically. He was taking in Deceit faster than the others were, apparently. He started to continue, but Roman cut him off.

“Are you wearing makeup? I thought you hated makeup!”

Cut out of his frozen state by familiar contempt, Deceit curled his lip at Roman. “No, Roman, I detest makeup. I truly despise it when someone does it for me.” Deceit made direct eye contact with Roman as he said this, in an attempt to avoid looking at Remus in hopes that they would forget about him, and he could slip away to Princess. Remus, thankfully, seemed to catch his drift, and sunk out. Unfortunately, his swift exit did not slip past Virgil.

“Hey, what - Why did Remus leave so fast once you got here?” he demanded to Deceit.

Lie. Deceit summoned his gloves and put them back on as he spoke. “Me and the Duke are not on the friendliest of terms. We prefer not to be in each other’s vicinity.”

“Why? I would have thought you and that disaster would get along swimmingly.” Roman said. Deceit wanted to rise to the defense of his boyfriend, but that would defeat the purpose of the lie he was constructing.

“Well, my purpose goes directly against his purpose, so, no, we do not get along.”

Virgil frowned. “What? Last time I saw you, I thought you two were all buddy-buddy, you liar.”

Sneering at him, Deceit pulled on his bowler hat. “Well, it’s been a while, Virgil. You haven’t been to visit. You haven’t been around. Things have changed.”

Virgil hissed at him. Deceit hissed back.

“Hey, Deceit, who’s Princess?” Patton interrupted. Deceit’s already cool blood chilled.

“I have no idea what you are talking about.” He pulled on his caplet as he said it, as if the question were beneath him, and he could not be bothered with such trivial things at the moment. His attitude didn’t dissuade the other Sides in the slightest.

“Well, you obviously know, so why not tell us?” Roman asked.

Deceit felt like he was being torn in half. He knew this day would come, when they would figure it out, put the pieces together, he had prepared for this, he knew. He had lain awake night after night imagining this day, what he would say, what he would do. Princess would want to bake cookies and play stuffed animals with Patton. Logan would be able to sate her insatiable curiosity about the world around her, and outside Thomas’s head as well. And, of course, she would probably want to meet her unknowing donors biological parents. She would want to sing and act with Roman, and sew and listen to music with Virgil. But he couldn’t stop himself from trying to delay the inevitable. And, besides, they hadn’t seen her. What proof did they have that she existed? Maybe they would give up. All he had to do was misdirect them. That was what he was good at.

“Tell you what?”

“Really, Deceit, you’re not fooling anyone. When you rose up, you were talking to someone who you referred to as “Princess”, and you were uncharacteristically relaxed and calm, and . . . happy looking.” Logan paused. “Princess must be special to you.”

Deceit blinked slowly. Out of all of the “Light” Sides, he thought that Logan would not be the one to notice immediate emotional connections, since the logical side to ardently tried to deny even having emotions, much less noticing them in other Sides.

“You know, if you won’t tell us, we could always summon whoever this ‘Princess’ is,” Roman announced, motioning to Thomas, “If you would, Thomas.”

Deceit’s heart skipped a beat. “Wait, no, don’t- STOP!”

But it was too late. Thomas had already raised his arm, commanding “Princess!”

For a split second, Deceit thought that perhaps it wouldn’t work. Perhaps Thomas couldn’t summon a side that he didn’t know existed - and was Princess even a Side? He probably couldn’t summon her. He could convince them that Princess was nonexistent, or imaginary, or -

Princess rose up.

#deceit sanders #remus sanders #roman sanders #patton sanders #virgil sanders #charcter thomas #Sanders Sides #logan sanders #romantic demus #romantic dukeceit #Princess 626 #heir au #fanfiction

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yeojaa · 4 years

Text

SUGAR HIGH, chapter iv. (w. JJK)

You're not entirely sure when it happened, though you'd come to terms with it. You'd counted the days, waiting for the inevitable. You'd truly thought you'd be okay, but by the broken, half-beating thing in your chest - you knew you'd never really been prepared.

alt summary. You thought you’d known real love and maybe you had - it just wasn’t with who you thought.

pairing. jeon jungkook. mentions/involvement of ot7.

tags. angst, break up, post-break up, comfort, OT7, slow burn, friendship, moving on, hurt/comfort, emotional hurt/comfort, emotional bagge, fluff, canon compliant, jeon jungkook is bad at feelings, jeon jungkook is a good friend, jeon jungkook is a sweetheart.

rating. general (for now?)

word count. ~2100

chapter 4. How’m I Doing

They say all that ever matters is timing. You think they must be right - because no matter how good you've always been together, the timing is just never right.

He's awake before you and for once, he doesn't mind how his internal clock has him stirring before the sun has risen. It gives him time to linger here, where he belongs.

It feels oddly domestic, his arm hooked around the pillow and the other barely breaching the divide between you. Tips of fingers ghost over where you'd be if you only shifted an inch, trailing through the heat radiating off your frame. He exhales a sound like frustration but there's only warmth in his mouth, peeking past his teeth like rays of sunlight.

Like this, Jungkook allows himself to daydream. To imagine endless summer skies and you weight of your hand in his, laughter curling out of your mouth like smoke and filling the space until he's drunk on the sound. He drifts between your cotton candy smile, so saccharine sweet it gives him toothaches, and the feel of your hip nudging his through choreography he'd love nothing more than to practice with you. (You'd hate it - two left feet, you'd argue - but he'd insist. You'd always say yes.)

He closes his eyes and it's you at his side, keeping him anchored to this reality he's so often surprised by. It's you laughing with Hoseok, bursting into an impromptu slide and disappearing behind fingers when he's focused his lens on you. It's the two of you in the kitchen, adjusting to each other with practiced ease and cowering when Seokjin reminds you both of the burning banana pancakes. It's you swiping the rain from his eyes, pulling him beneath a shared umbrella while the sky opens above you, so heavy it sinks into your bones.

He imagines being swept away during the holidays, Christmas shopping in between trying on silly costumes, elf-hats pulled low over your ears. He kisses you at midnight on New Years and he nearly forget about the fireworks going off above your heads - there are enough of those between you. He finds your face in a sea of thousands, serenades you like there's nothing else in the world.

He daydreams about all the things he's never had.

(Whoever said daydreams hurt had never dealt with a reality like this.)

You're studying his face like a woman possessed, as if maybe, just maybe, you could burn this image into your mind for the rest of your days. That it could be your saving grace when he's halfway across the world and you're reminded that you're alone again.

You memorize the slope of his nose and the gentle curve of his lips, the way the little freckle smack dab in the centre draws your attention without even trying. You examine the way his lashes flutter with each breath, the way his forehead tenses here and there, brows drawn together by something you wish you could smooth away.

You want to give him the world.

Instead, you're gingerly reaching out, puppeteered by your quick-beating heart.

It feels like electricity shooting through your veins, igniting your bloodstream as the tips of fingers graze his temple. You touch him like he's precious, crystal, about to shatter into a million pieces. Within your brassy broken cage of bones, your heart skips a beat. You withdraw--

"Don't stop." He's caught your wrist in the same moment you've pulled away. He's pleading, hopeful and sweet.

When you card through his powder puff of hair, a smile spreads like butter, too big for his face and crinkling the corners of his eyes. A hum of contentment parts his lips and he's leaning into your touch, seeking warmth like a sunbathing cat. You gladly oblige him, alternating between stroking the swell of his cheek, doodling nonsense into the margins of his skin, and sweeping his mop of brunette behind his ears.

You stay like this for minutes that stretch on in silence - only broken by a vibration of his phone.

"You have to go," you speak the words faintly, muffling the sound against your pillow. You know how you sound - disappointed and just a little petulant. You don't mean to.

He hums, as he always does, and catches your fingers in his own. His large palm engulfs yours but your fingers, long and thin from years of piano practice, easily combat his. You giggle once, soft and low, as he twines them together, gently knocking yours - his? - knuckles against your chin.

"I do." It's like a nail in a coffin, the finality of it. "Why don't you come by later? Everyone will want to see you."

The thought makes you smile despite yourself. You'd missed them, too. "Okay."

Your acquiescence seems good enough for him and he's bright-eyed and bunny smiled, mouth splitting wide. He's still got your hand in his, refusing to let go as he rises up, holding himself comfortably upon one elbow. There's emotion in the way he looks at you, takes in the way your bangs drift hazy over your vision and your teeth worry your bottom lip with self-conscious abandon.

"You'll be okay, you know." His reassurance is stronger than the sun's rays, more concrete than the ground beneath your feet. It's equal parts a statement and a promise. He'll make sure you're okay - he always has.

Because he's the person who dives without thought, swimming among the shipwrecks in your eyes. He's the one who has always brought the light to those cracked hulls and broken boughs. He's ignored the swirling void and gnashing teeth, refusing to leave behind the buried treasure he knows sits beneath the trench. He'll pull you to the surface, even if it means drowning in your ocean.

"I know - I have you."

Once he's called for a car and you've both brushed your teeth, you wait outside the front door together. You're sipping at coffee - or trying to - and he's leaning on the railing, light bathing his handsome face in a way that makes your heart stop.

He was your best friend but you'd be lying if you said he wasn't breathtaking.

"We've got meetings until about 3 PM. I'm not sure what's going on after that but you can probably just come by then." Jungkook is studying his phone, scrolling through unread messages and deftly ticking back responses. He's got his bag hiked over his shoulder, lighter now that he's unloaded your souvenirs, and seems perfectly at ease. Without glancing up, he's holding out a hand for your mug of coffee. You pass it to him without a word, watching the way the steam curves around powdery skin and drifts into the early morning.

He takes a sip, nose wrinkling in that distinctly Jungkook way, and hands it back to you. "Too hot."

"I could've told you that," you murmur around a mouth of beguiling laughter, happily returning both cold palms to the ceramic. Heat warms you to your core as you drag your lips through scalding liquid once more, staring at him unabashedly.

"What?" He notices - of course he does - and levels you with what's meant to be a demanding stare. Perhaps it would be, if not for the way his expression splits in half, suspicious facade giving way to a smile that could only be described as beautiful. "Soomi-ah, you know it's rude to stare." And there's that bunny quality, two front teeth standing center stage.

"I'm just glad you're home."

He scoffs to hide the sudden rouge that colours his cheeks, tinges the tops of his ears. He's immediately pulling you against his side, careful not to dislodge the cup from your hands. It's silly, the bashfulness that rises in his chest and settles like an unfamiliar weight on his shoulders.

Jeon Jungkook was many things but shy wasn't one of them - not really.

He'd grown into his long limbs and wicked smile, frighteningly aware of the effect he had on most people. He'd learnt to command it, switch it on and off so quickly it'd cause whiplash. Gone was the timid fifteen year-old, replaced by a larger than life idol with a pouty mouth and a body that could make you cry.

But that was only out there - to them, the people who loved him and his hyungs unconditionally.

Here, with you, he was just Kookie. Even if you rarely used the nickname now.

(You said it didn't belong to just you two anymore, and he supposed that was true. He wasn't just yours anymore.)

"I'm always just a phone call away," he murmurs into the top of your head. He's said it once and he'll say it again, even if you don't believe him. He knows it's just your stubborn nature that keeps you rooted in place, refusing to take up any more space in his life. He also knows you'd call if you really needed him. You always did.

You nod, the only indication you've heard him. You know, you know.

"Your car's here."

It's like the ending to a bittersweet fairytale - the strike of a clock at midnight.

He squeezes you a little tighter and you allow yourself to loop an arm around his impossibly small waist, gently squeezing his hip. Then he's gone, taking the steps two at a time as he bounds down to meet the sleek black sedan. You're not sure who's in the driver's seat - whether it's one of the boys or a manager or someone else entirely - but you catch the way a hand pops out of the window. A quick wave. Someone you know, then.

Right before Jungkook steps into the passenger seat, he's waving as well, wrist flailing like he's boneless. "I'll see you later!" He calls, disappearing inside and behind the shadow of a tinted glass. You wonder if he even hears you when you call out.

"Bye, Bunny."

"She's back home." There's surprise lacing the rich baritone, turning the statement into a question as soon as Jungkook has slid across supple leather.

The younger man hums, slotting his backpack between his knees. "Yeah, recently." He doesn't offer anything more as he cards a hand through his hair and shifts to recline fully into the seat. He's ready to head back to the complex and take a long hot shower and prepare for the day. Hopefully there'll be something to eat, considering how early it is. He's sure Seokjin will have whipped something up.

"We weren't sure where you ran off to so quickly but Yoongi-hyung had an idea."

"Why would Yoongi-hyung think I was there?" Jungkook doesn't have time to catch himself before the his words are rolling off his tongue, seemingly held by a string that furrows his brow. He ignores the way Taehyung's own raise, disappearing into his carefully styled fringe.

"They talk, you know." Whatever sixth sense the elder has seems to drive him to continue his first though, molasses heavy on his tongue in an effort to smooth whatever feathers he's ruffled. "We all do. She's our friend, too." A moment of silence as he rolls to a stop, nodding politely at the halmoni that is helped across the street by what he assumes is her grandson. "Yoongi-hyung said she'd been sad lately, so he figured you'd want to see her as soon as we got back."

Jungkook isn't sure what the emotion clawing up his throat is or why it feels like bile and envy, licking acid over his vocal chords. He doesn't even realize he's holding tension in a vice grip until he's loosening his hand, little crescent moons dug into the soft flesh of his palm.

He shouldn't be jealous. He doesn't really even think he is jealous.

Hurt, maybe. That makes more sense.

"Oh." He wonders if it comes off poorly. By the way Taehyung shifts in his periphery, he's sure it does.

So he clears his throat and offers a contrite smile. These are his hyungs, his best friends, his brothers. He knows better. He thinks you'd reprimand him if you caught him like this. You'd tell him they were your friends, too, and that you could never have enough people who loved you. You'd make a point about ARMY, about the people who've raised thousands of dollars in his name and wrote you letters thoughtful enough to make you breakdown. He'd have to agree.

An abundance of love was the best problem to have.

"She's coming by later," Jungkook relents, lolling his head to the side as he speaks.

Taehyung beams, boyishly handsome and relieved by the melting tension. Long fingers tap the stirring wheel as gears turn in his head. He hasn't seen you in forever - ages longer than his maknae - and he can't help but imagine the ease with which you'll slot back into their lives. Even if only for a little while.

"Great. Let's keep it a surprise."

notes. i realized i haven't been proofreading anything so i apologize for any mistakes littered through past chapters. i'm going to start planning out future ones so hopefully there will be more rhyme and reason moving forward. @-@

this chapter was heavily inspired by eric nam's "how'm i doing". https://youtu.be/D46_enlxfP8

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