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fangirl-dot-com · 7 months ago

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🥃Track 6 - Delicate

*oooooo y'all are in for a doozie, Logan finally breaks*

TAG LIST IS CLOSED

Logan watched you from the other side of the club. Currently, he was still on a high from the 1-2 a couple of hours earlier. But now, he could actually live in the feeling. He had a dopey-kind-of smile as your head leaned back when you laughed at something that Lewis had said. Under the pink and blue strobe likes, you were hypnotizing, and Logan was just another man under your spell.

“You’re staring,” a voice sounded in a sing-song tune. Logan knew exactly who is was and rolled his eyes. He looked down at his drink.

“I’m allowed to stare.”

Charles just clapped him on the shoulder. “Sure mate. You kissed your teammate, but only watching her, it’s kind of creepy.”

Logan hummed before turning to face the Monegasque.

“So it’s not creepy when you get to stare at him?”

Logan’s eyes flickered to Max, who was currently in a deep conversation with Liam Lawson. Charles’s head followed in that direction.

Even under the strobe lights, the American could tell that there was definitely a blush rising on Charles’s face. He laughed as the man sputtered.

“Non! It is different too.”

The blond’s eyes held a teasing glint.

“So you’ve never. . . ?” Logan trailed off as he swished his drink around and raised his eyebrows. Charles took the moment to return the glint and put his hand up to his mouth.

“A man never kisses and tells Logan,” Charles said and ran his finger across his lips, as to zip them closed.

Logan was about to retaliate, but then his lap was suddenly full. He quickly placed his drink down on the table and his hands found their home on your hips, where you had dramatically placed yourself. He looked up and saw a sheepish look on Lewis’s face. However, when he looked back down at you, you seemed totally fine.

“Not drunk out of your mind I hope?” Logan asked. You quickly shook your head and glared up at the Briton.

“Lewis tripped, fell into me, and then I fell into you.”

A look of realization bloomed on his face and then he smiled. “Well, I don’t mind. Means I get to hold you closer.”

Your face reeled back from where it was and you scoffed.

“When did you become such a smooth talker Mr. Sargeant?”

Logan leaned back into your face, lips dangerously close. “Always been sweetheart.”

The two of you were so lost in yourselves that you completely missed the disgruntled looks of Lewis and Charles around you. When Charles looked back to the pair, he groaned out loud at the sight of your faces practically smashed together.

“Lewis? Drinks?”

The Mercedes man didn’t need to be asked twice as he swiftly turned around and headed back to the bar. The future teammates wasted no time to put space between them and the table.

Logan’s hands had respectfully stayed in their place on your hips. You, on the other hand, had moved just a bit to be almost fully in his lap. The kiss was definitely more hungry than the one that was shared on the podium.

This one had more teeth, spit, and tongue.

The atmosphere felt electrifying with all the lights and what Logan deduced to be a smoke machine somewhere.

You finally pulled back, out of breath, and leaned your head on your his shoulder. Your hand reached out and grabbed Logan’s drink, taking a quick sip. You felt his hand tighten on you hip as you teasingly played with the little straw it came with.

Logan squawked when he saw that you had practically emptied his drink.

“You couldn’t get your own?” he whined. “I was enjoying it.”

You rolled your eyes. “Well, I enjoyed it more. You want to get another one? I also need pictures for Instagram. Your dark jeans and Nikes look really good, and make your eyes pop. Damn, never see that color blue.”

Logan flushed at your compliment.

“Is it cool that I said that?” you asked as you got out of the booth.

He rolled his eyes. “It’s perfectly fine. Is it chill that you’re always in my head?”

It was your turn to flush. Your only response was to grab his arm to drag him away. Logan went willingly.

It didn’t take long before you two found yourself back at the bar, but thankfully still some ways away from everyone. Lamborghini had made sure that the club wasn’t too crowded and only allowed F1 personnel. However, that still meant that most of the teams could come, including Williams and McLaren.

Logan saw you wince as you were watching the entrance. He felt the same once he saw familiar people waltz in like they owned the place. Which wasn’t true, but Logan didn’t know the owner. He quickly grabbed both drinks with one hand, and placed the other one on your lower back to guide you to the table that was now occupied with your little group, along with Liam.

He made sure to place you on the inside instead of the end seat.

Max, who had been facing George, could tell that something was off when someone sat beside him. Not wanting to cut his conversation, he quickly glanced at his left, now seeing the two younger drivers. The frowns on your face solidified his wrong feeling. Your faces were close to each other and he could tell that harsher whispers were filling the little space between.

“Max?”

His eyes whipped back to George, who was now frowning. He shook his head a bit.

“Sorry mate. What were you saying?”

“Lando, Oscar, and Alex just walked in.”

Oh.

That was probably the source of yours and Logan’s attitude change. When he glanced back, he was a bit happier to see that you two were now conversing with Liam. However, he could see you trying to wiggle a bit closer to Logan.

It only made sense when a hand clapped his shoulder. It was the hand that was connected to Lando.

“Hey mate!” the curly-haired Briton greeted.

Max smiled as he greeted him back. He might not agree with how Lando treated Logan, but the McLaren driver was still one of his good friends. Over his shoulder, Max saw Oscar and Alex greeting the other drivers. Past them, Pato was awkwardly standing to the side. But Max could see right through him as the Mexican driver kept throwing glances at you.

“Mind if we join?” Alex asked, but didn’t wait for an answer as he and the two McLaren drivers took the pull out chairs to sit on. Oscar looked as if he suddenly remembered someone and waved Pato over, telling him to join as well.

Charles felt off about the whole thing. He could tell that you were uncomfortable, but kept a smile on your face to be polite. Logan, on the other hand, was not as good at schooling his expressions has his face had become rigid.

The Monegasque tried to read your lips as you said something to Logan. He knew it was Italian, but the dark setting made it nearly impossible to do so. But when he saw that Logan was scooching to let you by, he stood up as well, making the table now look at him with questioning faces. He glanced at you before explaining.

“I’m thirsty,” he said, ending with a small laugh.

Logan made sure to tell you to stay with Charles as you now walked back over to the bar. Once there was a bit of distance, you sighed in relief.

“All is good petite abeille?” the Monegasque asked as he tried to get the bartender’s attention. You couldn’t even offer an answer and just shook your head.

“Is it Pato?”

“No, it’s . . . yeah, it is.”

“You want to talk about it?”

Your hands cradled your face as you leaned against the bar. “My time at Arrow was nothing short of absolute hell.”

Charles’s head tilted in confusion. “But you won races?”

A scoff left your lips. “You’ve won races and still get hate. Except you’re Charles Leclerc. Ferrari adores you.”

He crossed his arms. “What does that have anything to do with?”

Maybe that last question was a bit harsh as you now looked at him with such a pitiful look. Charles could almost equate your sad eyes to those of a kicked puppy.

“Would Ferrari tell you to lose close to 6 kilos even though you are already under the weight limit? Would Ferrari tell you that they don’t have enough money to get you a hotel, but can comfortably house everyone else? Would Ferrari purposefully not give you upgrades even though you won the last race? Would Ferrari never post you on any social media because you give the brand a bad look? Would Ferrari put you in a sweatsuit under your regular race suit, claiming that it’d be easier for the car to have weights instead of the driver be heavy?”

Charles couldn’t answer.

“The answer to that is all no, by the way. But that’s exactly what Arrow did to me. I lost closer to 8 kilos by summer break. Logan almost had a heart attack when he saw me. I’ve gained it back, but only because of Andretti’s schedule. I passed out after the sweat suit and they said that my body could have given out at any moment during the race and I could have died if I crashed. There wasn’t enough muscle or body fat to have kept me safe.”

Charles wanted to cry. Logan had offhandedly mentioned that you had gone through a lot of things at Arrow, but not to this extent. He even wondered if you were he reason Logan immediately went home after the race before summer, claiming that there was a family emergency back home.

You could see that he wanted to cry, but you didn’t want him. You gently placed a hand on his shoulder.

“I’m fine now, truly. This opportunity has been the best thing to ever happen to me.”

Charles got a bit closer. “I’m glad that you’re better. Really shows the men that you aren’t as delicate as they think.”

“I’d only be delicate with one person.”

You offhandedly glanced back at the table, seeing Logan looking down at his phone. He was probably on the weather app.

Charles smiled fondly as you were lost in your own moment. You could feel Charles’s eyes on you as you turned to look back at him.

“So, drinks?”

Back at the table, Logan was indeed going through his weather app. There was nothing better to do until you would return. And he was hoping that you’d be back soon before he was dragged into a conversation that he didn’t want to be apart of.

“So Logan, good job today mate.”

The blond froze at the sound of his name escaping from Alex’s mouth. He closed his phone as his head raised slowly. Logan didn’t know why, but Alex talking to him jump started his fight or flight instincts.

Too bad he was a flightless bird.

He tried to give his ex-teammate a smile, but by everyone’s reactions, it probably came out more of a lopsided frown.

“Thanks,” he muttered, eyes flickering, hoping to land on someone safe. Yet, his eyes shot back when he heard a scoff.

“You could be a little more appreciative.”

Logan sighed. Lando just had to say something.

The American turned to the Briton.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” he then turned to Alex, “Alex, thank you so much for your encouragement and praise. It really means a lot to me.”

Lando rolled his eyes. “That’s not what I meant and you know it. You think you’re too good for us now that you have a good car?”

Logan’s phone was now on the table and his body was fully turned toward the McLaren driver. He vaguely saw Oscar elbow Lando’s side, but that didn’t deter the curly-headed boy.

“Says the one who rammed into his teammate in the first corner today. Maybe you just aren’t cut out for F1 Lando.”

Logan leaned back into the plush booth with a smirk. Max fought the urge to snort, but deep down he knew he had to deescalate the situation before he had a fist fight on his hands. He was willing that you and Charles would be back soon, but nothing indicated that you were on your way back.

Lando was now leaning forward, almost across George who separated the two. There was fury in his hazel eyes.

“It’s only one mistake compared to your innumerable. Face it. You had luck for one race. Next one, I’ll be passing you as you’ll get lapped.”

“Lando, maybe we should go?”

Max could hug Pato if he could. He knew that Lando could get snippy and say everything wrong if he wasn’t held back.

It’s a shame that Max didn’t know that Logan also wasn’t one to hold back. The snarky smirk had yet to leave the American’s face. He took the opportunity to also lean in over George. The Briton’s hands were placed on both driver’s chests, trying to keep them apart.

“You’re just jealous.”

Lando raised his eyebrows. “Jealous? Of you? You make. me. laugh.”

And to answer, a chuckle escaped Logan’s lips. The drivers at the table couldn’t tell if Logan was doing this out of spite or not. However, this snapping was just a long time coming.

“Yeah, jealous,” Logan bit back. “Jealous because you’ve been here since 2019 and have no wins to your name. Beaten by your rookie teammate in 2023. Beaten by me, the guy who you said had no business being in Formula 1. Now looking at it, maybe you’re just trying to make up for something.”

Lando had had enough and quickly rose to his feet. Everyone else followed. Max took this time to quickly grab the blond’s arm, gently pulling him back. For Lando, it took both Pato and Oscar to hold him back.

“Logan, that’s unfair.”

Logan’s head whipped to where Alex was standing.

“Unfair? You want to talk about unfair Alex? Then let’s talk about how your car always got upgrades. How I was always ordered to let you pass. How Williams said they’d give me a chance, like the one you didn’t have with Red Bull, but they didn’t. How you botched your race and I had to give up my perfectly fine car for the good of the team.”

The blond was seething and Alex was hunching in on himself. If he couldn’t take it, then he shouldn’t have said anything.

“That’s enough Logan.”

He rolled his shoulders as he glanced at his “childhood friend.”

“You have something to say Oscar? Hm?”

Oscar’s eyes fell to the floor. He knew that fighting with Logan was a lost cause. Because, everything he was saying was 100 percent correct. However, Lando now wasn’t having anything with Logan going after the Aussie.

“Hey!” he got the attention back on himself. “Oscar has done nothing but be kind to you, even when you were undeserving.”

Now, a scoff left Logan’s lips.

“Kind?”

Max could tell that this was the breaking point, as he could see the glint of tears in the younger man’s eyes.

“Any of you were nothing but kind. Do you truly believe that the actions you showed me were you being ‘kind?’ If that’s what you think that word means, I feel sorry for your loved ones.”

Logan’s voice was slowly raising, gaining more attention than that which was already on them.

“Alex? Were you being kind when you left me places that I had no clue where I was? That was kind right? Letting me get back late to every meeting because I couldn’t find my way back?”

Logan wanted to let the tears fall, but like he knew, this had been a long time coming.

“Oscar? Was it kind when you let all of my messages and calls be read or go to voicemail? And then you blame me for not wanting to spend time with you anymore? Because the last time I checked, I had to beg you to even tell you things. That’s kind? I hope you treat your girlfriend better than that.”

Oscar, although he didn’t look down this time, looked close to tears as he felt as though someone was ripping his soul apart. Or maybe, that he had done that and was now paying the consequences.

What Logan or the other drivers missed was that you and Charles had finally come back from the bar and were awestruck with how things were going down. You two did not move, scared to set Logan off anymore.

“Lando? You like to talk about being kind. Kind to yourself and fans and fellow drivers. Was it kind when you told me that I should quit because I simply didn’t belong? Or that I should change careers because maybe then people would like me? Or should I tell the group that you told me to disappear because you wanted Oscar to be more focused on the team and not some childhood friend that he was worried about?”

Everyone looked directly at Lando. Under the strobe lights, people could tell that the Briton was flush red. From anger or embarrassment? No one knew.

Max gently pulled on Logan’s arm, trying to get him away from the group.

“I think they get the point Logan,” the Dutchman muttered. But that did the opposite of what he wanted because the American yanked his arm out from his hand.

“The point? Max? The point is that everyone treated me like absolute shit! Even you. Even Charles. Even Lewis. You all want to be better, treat me like a friend but all the harsh words don’t just go away with a follow on Instagram or one paddle game mate.”

From beside you, Charles had the decency to at least look ashamed. You didn’t say anything, and just bit your lip.

Logan pointed at George, the tall Briton now ready for his turn. But it never came.

“George was the only driver to actually give a shit about me. And, no offence, but he was doing the bare minimum. But that small bit meant the world to me.”

You could tell that Logan was losing it. You didn’t look at Charles as you handed him your glass. Thankfully, he took it with no argument.

Logan flinched when he felt your arm tug his. The blond’s head finally felt in exhaustion.

He had bared his heart and soul to a group, who in reality, still didn’t care much for him. But what was done was done.

“Time to go,” you whispered. With a nod from Logan, you reached over to grab your bag. On your way past Max, you quickly thanked him for the time before shit hit the fan. The Dutchman could only give a small nod as you kept Logan in front of you.

You almost breathed a sigh of relief when you got past the drivers. But Lando had to run his mouth one more time.

“Sargeant?”

Logan froze before slowly turning around to look at the McLaren driver. Deep down, he was hoping that some sort of apology would come tumbling out of his mouth. Yet, it was the opposite.

“Stay out of my way.”

The blond male, who had been exhausted, found a little more energy to respond. He faintly smirked as he looked over his shoulder to respond.

“We can’t make any promises now,” he stated before looking down at you, “can we babe?”

pheonix95 has posted

phoenix95 isn't it delicate?

liked by tswizzlef1, venus2, y/n.nation, vogue, and 1,204,094 others

bee_lamborghini ayo the club looks fire 🔥🔥

lambo_duo am I the only one nervous as to what went on during the part?

lambo_fanclub no, so am I . . . but they posted which means they're ok tho? 🤷‍♀️

venus2 only delicate with you baby 😙

pheonix95 is it chill that you're in my head?

venus2 should be cause you never leave mine 🥰

paddle_sixtet no likes from Charles, max, lewis, or George?? 😭

venus&pheonix you both deserve the party and everything else!

ferrari+lambo i am now a child of divorce

venus2 has posted

venus2 this ain't for the best, but my reputation's never been worse so...

liked by lambo_duo, Dior, formulala_delulu, and 1,940,294 others

f1_gridgang seems like y/n has one move for a party 🤣

swift_on_track the delicate lyrics this weekend >>>>>

lambof1 no likes from the usual 4 on Logan's post too

my_goat_logan WHAT HAPPENED TO MY FAMILY 🤨

phoenix95 gonna love you for you ❤️

venus2 aw, you're being nice ☺️

pheonix95 I can take it back....

venus2 NO - ahem - I'm good ❤️

loscar_no_more if I find out that something happened between some certain drivers, it's on sight 😤

sargeantgirlie I don't want to believe the twitter page, but the lack of comments with the other four makes me nervous

ferrari&lambo_crew God, please bring my family back plssss 🙏

logan.nation unapologetic Logan is everything to me

pheonix&venus THE SECOND PIC OH MY GOSH

TAG LIST: @fionaschicken @myxticmoon @cherry-piee @blueberry64857959 @glitterquadricorn @lizzypiastri @disneyprincemuke @sam-is-lost @spilled-coffee-cup @ilove-tswizzle @the-untamed-soul @allenajade-ite @starssfall @torchbearerkyle @judespoision @halfdeadsage @juniper-july19 @severewobblerlightdragon @thatgirlmj @gods-menace @ineedafictionalman @namgification @dark-night-sky-99 @samantha-chicago @2pagenumb @treehouse-mouse @fangirl125reader @megatrilss1885 @kagatinkita @itsjustkhaos @nikfigueiredo @awekbachira @vellicora @skepvids @sunrizef1 @stan-josie @fanficweasley @hiireadstuff @barcelonaloverf1life @c-losur3 @graciewrote @bruhhhhhhhhehhhhhhh @tallrock35 @ashy-kit @kat-s2 @minkyungseokie @lozzamez3 @leslieis-crying @adventuresofrose @lighttsoutlewis

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yournightmary · 6 months ago

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Loser!Ellie HCs

content warning:: fem!reader, modern!AU

AN:: first time writing, literally scared shitless�� english isn’t my native language🙏

⇢ ˗ˏˋ loser!Ellie who made a pasta recipe once (probably from instagram reels), and became a self-appointed master chef. Forgot about the fact that it took her 3 tries to even cook the pasta.

⇢ ˗ˏˋ loser!Ellie who can’t stop saying flavor instead of scent. She just genuinely doesn’t see the difference.

“What flavor do you want?” she asks you while holding up two colorful packs of wax melts. She bought a wax burner and used it to melt chocolate so she can have chocolate covered fruit anytime she wants. Used it 2 times total.

⇢ ˗ˏˋ loser!Ellie who vapes. I’m sorry but that’s the truth. She just loves to puff on her cute little mixed berries disposable. Also, keeps saying she can quit anytime she wants, she can’t.

⇢ ˗ˏˋ loser!Ellie who uses axe body spray. If someone asks about it she just says it works better, but she actually likes the scent. Kind of her guilty pleasure.

⇢ ˗ˏˋ loser!Ellie who hated on the sims franchise her whole life only to find out you’re a fan. She pirated the whole series (DLCs and all) off of some russian website in one night. Got like 20 different viruses but at least her girl could play the sims 2 happily.

⇢ ˗ˏˋ loser!Ellie who is terrible at foreign languages yet has a duolingo streak that over 500 days. She knows how to say ‘the apple is red’ in german and can barely pronounce her order in mexican restaurants.

⇢ ˗ˏˋ loser!Ellie who is chronically online. Constantly posting shit to her insta stories, sending you tik toks 24/7 and all that stuff. One time she got so invested in a facebook group drama that she didn’t reply to your texts for the whole day.

⇢ ˗ˏˋ loser!Ellie who wears the most unfunny-funny shirts you can imagine. Stuff like ‘women want me, fish fear me’ and ‘eat, sleep, game, repeat’. And they’re always either way too big or way too small.

⇢ ˗ˏˋ loser!Ellie who always said she doesn’t want any pets, that it’s too much of a commitment for her… Then she found the ugliest kitten she’s ever seen on the street and took it home without thinking. Let you choose the name but calls him ‘stinky’ no matter what. Like mother, like daughter.

⇢ ˗ˏˋ loser!Ellie who couldn’t tie her shoes until she was 15. That’s it.

⇢ ˗ˏˋ loser!Ellie who is so lovestruck for you that I can’t even explain it. She’ll always do the cheesiest things possible, like standing before your house with roses, a bluetooth speaker and a promposal poster or bringing you every little thing she found on her walk that ‘reminded her of you’.

⇢ ˗ˏˋ loser!Ellie who doesn’t like to go out on dates. She’d rather stay at home with you, watch a movie, make dinner together (you’ll be the only one actually cooking), maybe paint something or just spend time together doing nothing… Would really enjoy a date at the planetarium though.

⇢ ˗ˏˋ loser!Ellie who is a total yapper. Can and will talk about anything and everything for hours on end. And if you mention an interest of hers? Oh god, get ready to see a powerpoint presentation about it. Literally the definition of ‘☝️🤓’ but in a good way.

I’m so scared to post this it’s not even funny☠️ Hope you liked it <3

#ellie williams x reader #ellie williams fluff #ellie williams headcannons #wlw #lesbian #the last of us #ellie williams x you #ellie williams x y/n #ellie williams imagine

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scribble-dribble-writes · 6 months ago

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Omg those protective Crosshair headcanons were 🫶🫶🫶 YES please do a part 2!! Maybe where he gets jealous because he spots his general talking to Anakin for a little TOO long. I totally see anakin catching onto it and teasing them about it tho 😭😭😭 How do you think he’d react if he also saw Regs flirting with her or making comments about her??

This was so good I had to add it to part 3 🥰

<<< Part 2 Part 4>>>

Crosshair Bodyguard Pt 3!

Crosshair felt more annoyed than usual, he would hear your laugh as you walked past him with a reg and his annoyance would turn into frustration. He was certain no joke was that funny enough to cause such a reaction or maybe his overthinking had finally made him delusional to believe he was better company.

But the sight of your happiness was worth the pain he felt, he couldn’t help but feel the way his eyes softened as they observed you from afar.

Sometimes he would use his free time to hideaway only to use his scope to see what you were up to. He was down bad with this feeling that never let him retain his peace, his whole being longed for you but this separation was for the best. For the both of you, so you can continue on to fulfill your duties while he rotted in this misery.

It was fine

It wasn’t

Did you miss him? Did you ever want him back? Was he the only one reeling so pathetically? All these questions pestering his head

Having Rex assigned to you came with benefits and nuisances. The benefit being Rex was more than what you could ask for and the nuisance being another General hovering around you making small talk. Why Anakin was so persistent you couldn’t understand.

Managing all this was thousands time more difficult when you knew Crosshair was around. The Regs would tease you and Anakin would put his arm over your shoulders or hold you close which made Crosshair miss his shot while training or be distracted that Hunter had chided him over it.

It only made you feel worser than what you felt. Maybe he hated the very sight of you. That he couldn’t stand you.

He hated they could be close to you. Hated the fact that he was barred from the one thing that he wanted. He still felt the way your slender fingers fit his palms effortlessly or the way your robe would at times drape over his knee as you walked past. This distance was ruining him.

That’s when he heard it, when the cackle of laughter died down, the sound of a blaster shot and you clutching the side of your arm.

“Watch it.”, Anakin chided a cadet whose blaster had gone off by accident but you felt your skin twinge with the sting of a burn.

Crosshair saw red, his feet carried him off before he could hold himself back. He had yanked the blaster from the younger soldier’s hands. “This isn’t a toy, kid.”, he seethed as he flipped the safety switch on. You had never heard him be this angry before.

“You.”, he turned to Anakin. “What General are you if you cannot protect those around you?”, Crosshair stood face to face with him as everyone grew silent. Your heart beating fast in your chest. A clone turning against a Jedi, this would be punishable.

“Anakin.”, you called for him to know if you could speak on Crosshair’s behalf but his focus would not turn away from your sniper as a sly smirk spread across his face when his eyes landed on you. As though, he had run a test and the results had turned favourable.

You observed your sharpshooter who stood with his gaze fixed on Anakin and the other regs as he opened and closed his fingers.

He had broken enough rules today, feeding into his desires to reach out and inspect the wound on your arm or touch you felt like the final deed he will need to commit to be banished from this place.

He could not have that happening to him. He cannot exist elsewhere on a different plant or universe if it didn’t have you in it.

But before he turned away he heard the Jedi instruct him. “Then I suggest you take her to the medic seeing how disturbed you are by her being hurt. It might ease your mind.”, Anakin chirped but you knew there was a hidden ploy to this.

With the entire crowd’s attention on you, there was no getting out of this, Crosshair froze the moment you took a step towards him and you were sure there were other wounds that were in need of healing

Part 4? @ladyanidala @crosshairscyarika @haybellewrites

#crosshair tbb #crosshair fanart #crosshair the bad batch #crosshair x oc #crosshair bad batch #the bad batch crosshair #crosshair #tbb crosshair #crosshair x reader #clone trooper crosshair #crosshair x you #crosshair x y/n

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mangosaurus · 4 months ago

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Ceratosaurus, Dilophosaurus, and Compy for the ask game! Btw I’m so happy you get to finally participate in it 🧘‍♀️

HEHE same here! kind of wish i was around while it was still getting passed around by my mutuals so i could have sent in my own asks, but better late than never >:)

1. Ceratosaurus - Favorite character design from both series? (Also who in your personal opinion, had the best glow up from CC to CT)

AW MAN THIS IS SUPER HARD. of the nublar 6 my favorite designs in camp cretaceous are tied between yasmina and brooklynn from s3 onward, mostly because i love the way they both wore their hair. in chaos theory darius totally wins over everyone else though, the team really nailed his design there (but i am really fond of some of the concepts the artists came up with during pre-production! same goes for the other campers, especially brooklynn. that bleach blonde pixie cut is my roman empire tbh)

as for biggest glow up ... i feel obligated to give that one to ben, if just because of the growth spurt. also gonna take this opportunity to go on the record and say LEAVE KENJI ALONE I GET THAT HE'S SUPPOSED TO LOOK A BIT ROUGH BUT HIS HAIRCUT ISN'T THAT BAD 😭😭😭

2. Dilophosaurus - How did you discover Camp Cretaceous?

so, i didn't actually start watching camp cretaceous until a few months after the final season wrapped up—i think sometime around september 2022? but i had some close friends who had been keeping up with it for a while, and after hearing them talk about it so much i was like, hey, i want in! which is funny, because i was never really into jurassic park/world before then? i was more of a marine biology kid than a dino kid growing up. but even without knowing the ~lore~ of the franchise, CC and its characters still managed to reel me in, and now i'm here nearly two years later and my hyperfixation is still going strong!

3. Compy - Favorite duo/trio/friendship and why?

favorite purely platonic duo goes to ben and yasmina EASILLYYYY. they just get each other on such a personal level, and i love seeing ben go from this kid yasmina begrudgingly tolerates to someone she trusts enough to confide in, both in JWCC s5 when she realizes she might harbor romantic feelings for sammy, and then again in JWCT s1 when her relationship with sammy has hit a rough patch. shout out to yasmina and darius though, their interactions in JWCC s2 were really sweet, they don't get enough love imo. i've said this at least three billion times before but if kenji is darius's shitty older brother then yasmina is darius's cooler older cousin

as for my favorite trio, i feel like most people would probably say either yasammy + ben or the original three (darius kenji and brooklynn) but for me it's darius brooklynn and ben 🥹 their individual dynamics all mean so much to me, and it doesn't hurt that i also lowkey highkey ship them as an OTV with darius in the middle (although if i had to seriously ship ben with any of the girls, it'd be brooklynn, lol)

🦖✨ JWCC/CT ask game!

#answered #morurui

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prismsofmystery · 1 month ago

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OOUWT x TNMN - P3, "Camp Cramp"

"Grq'w jr jhqwoh lqwr wkdw jrrgqljkw."

"Udjh rq djdlqvw wkh gblqj oljkw."

There was silence following the woman's announcement before Glenn stood up. "Camp? Oh God no." "T-There must be some mistake," Arlene stuttered, removing herself from the pile. "We weren't…this wasn't where we were supposed to get off at."

The woman's grin widened. "Of course it was! That's the only place this bus goes to!"

"Excuse me?" Stephanie asked standing up and dusting herself off. Everyone else began to stand up and stare at the woman skeptically. "I-I'll just..get back on the bu- Martin turned around to watch the bus zoom off, stopping him in his tracks. "Oh….Well, nevermind.."

"Alright then, any questions?"

"Uh, yes, when must we be able to depart? I do not enjoy being outside in the disgusting wooded areas." Sylvestre muttered. "At the end of the summer." The woman answered bluntly. Sylvestre spluttered. "The end of the SUMMER??" She grinned. "Yep! Any other questions?"

Everyone fell silent again, not really sure if they wanted to hear the answers. "Alright then! My name's Chelsea Triton and I'll be your camp counselor! Shall I show you all inside?"

"At this point, I don't think we have anywhere else to be." Albertine said under her breath as she crossed her arms. "Speak for yourself." Sylvestre retorted.

"I was speaking for myself."

Chelsea led the confused campers inside of the camp grounds, pointing and ranting about various things. Stephanie did find herself enjoying the view just a bit, it was serene after all, but considering she wasn't here upon her own will, she couldn't be too relaxed about it.

"Alright, you all will split up into groups of 2 or 3 and choose a cabin to sleep in." Chelsea announced, getting everyone's attention. Stephanie, however, was distracted by how she was going to explain this to her parents when she returned. She was snapped out of her thoughts when she felt someone throw their arms around her.

"How's about you me an' Abby take that cabin over there?" Fiona asked, pointing towards a decent sized cabin in front of them. Stephanie glanced at the cabin for a second before nodding. "Sure. I'm tired of holding these damn bags anyway."

The trio made their way to the cabin and opened its doors. Stephanie was secretly relieved that this place looked somewhat decent and was all cleaned up, at least she wouldn't have to be swatting away bugs and rodents in her sleep. She watched as Abby took the bed nearest to the back of the cabin and Fiona took the one nearest to the door. Stephanie bunked the one in the middle, throwing herself down in a starfish position.

"Someone's tired." Fiona teased, scooting closer to her. Stephanie pushed her face away, chuckling a bit. "As if. I don't trust myself to sleep even an hour in this place."

"I agree. Homegirl seemed wayyy too happy to see us here. She seems to have known we were coming ahead of time." Abby stated, digging into her bag.

Fiona nodded. "She didn't even seem to question anything and seemed totally fine with bringing a bunch of adults to a remote area. Something is going on here, something I'm not sticking around to find out."

Martin seemed to be less than lucky today as his head was still reeling with pain. Donovan and Winnie seemed to notice him taking a seat near the wooden tables. Before they were able to help him though, Chelsea came over with a bottle of water and handed it to him.

"I guess she isn't all, that bad." Donovan whispered, eyeing her closely. "Still wouldn't touch her with a ten foot pole, though."Winnie nodded in agreement, staring down the woman.

Chris assisted Helga towards the cabin they would be spending the night in. Helga after being pushed off of the bus by an unseen force was not having a good time, as she was shaking like a leaf. Chris helped her lay down. "I'm sure we'll be fine for now. As long as nothing else like that happens."

Helga smiled, but it didn't quite reach her eyes. "Thanks, Chris." After a few more moments, she finally fell asleep. Chris rubbed her hands together. "Perfect." She snuck out of the cabin, being sure to not disturb Helga's slumber before quickly closing the door.

"What do ya mean? Are ya gonna try an' escape tonight or somethin'?" Stephanie asked, looking at Fiona incredulously. "Yep. I'm not staying here for any longer than a few hours. Once everyone's sleeping, I'm walking home, and I don't care how long it takes. You coming with?"

Stephanie nodded. "Yeah..I think I will…"

Meanwhile, near the pond area, Sylvestre and Elois were walking and chatting about how absolutely disgusting this place was. This was unfortunately right when Michael jumped into the pond, splashing them both along with Donovan as well. Sylvestre gasped. "My beautiful clothes! Do you even know how much this costs, you average American looking cretin?!"

Michael didn't respond, which only infuriated him more. Sylvestre probably would've given the man a piece of his mind, but Elois spoke up. "Don't bother, Syl." Donovan nodded. "Yeah, let's go see if we can ask Chelsea for some new clothes." Sylvestre sighed, realizing he'd rather be in warm and dry attire anyway. "Sure, let's go."

Chelsea lifted up an unconscious Martin while everyone was occupied and took him to her cabin. This didn't go unnoticed by Agnes, who watched him fall ill after being given the water bottle. "Hm." She hummed, feeling a familiar feeling creep up her body.

She had the feeling this would be the last any of them saw of him alive. As much as she wanted to spark some drama and tension by exposing her, she felt it wasn't the time and decided to keep her mouth shut. For now.

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

did any of you guys decode the cipher yet hehe

anyways yeah we finally found out the woman's name and depending on how I feel in the next hour I might write and release part 4 early

Rip Martin-

#tnmn #tnmn oc #steven rudboys #elenois sverchzt #selenne sverchzt #gloria schmicht #arnold schmicht #albertsky peachman #fiona orbit #joydoesathing

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unlikelyjapan · 1 year ago

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s2e6 rewatch notes - part 2

OK, jumping back in from the point where Stevie says "Carm, this is a good thing."

Richie passing Tiff the Sprite (inside the bedroom that is totally just the walls of Donna's brain - the Carmela Soprano-esque mom tchotchke's mixed with predatory animal statues and black accents - maybe a bit too on the nose....) and saying "Carmy made this for you - he's a god damn pop machine, this guy. He's a weird little dude!"

Both Richie and Tiff mistake Carmy's kindness for weakness, just like everyone else from his past. It explains why Tiff would gravitate towards someone like Richie - she hates his brashness (see when she wanders into the kitchen scene after throwing up and he's just revving everyone up) but accepts it so long as it's countered with tenderness because that fits with her idea of masculinity and normalcy.

"We're trying to....um....you know, hook him up with Claire Bear -loosen him up a little bit."

Tiff - "With Claire? Why would you do that? She's so nice."

Nice people (shorthand for normal people) deserve archetypical masculine guys who can be romantic - not people who are neurodivergent and kind. Trauma doesn't factor into any of their considerations in setting people up, because they don't reckon with their own.

The subject changes to Richie and Tiff's relationship and future plans/housing - after just discussing how to "turn Carmy into a MAN man" we watch Richie quietly flounder because we know damn well The Beef won't afford the kind of life Tiff envisions for their new family. Tiff shares her dream about the all-green clothes for them/red for the baby (the baby breaking their mold/image) and they wonder aloud if they're going to be good parents and if Eva is going to like them.

It's true that they'll be better - they're present, they don't want to start from a bad place. But when we look at how they were razzing Carmy, it's indicative of the fact that they're not about to shed the baggage of their histories - they are playing roles that were established for them through their pasts, so they're doomed to failure after the glow of new family wares off and life gets in the way. It'll just look a little different, a little better.

Richie utters "I don't want to be at The Beef every day" to Cicero as Mikey is ranting about the Bill Murray story in the background. Richie was exhausted by the patterns in his life 5 whole years ago, and it wasn't just about providing for his family. It's so obvious that he fully regressed during the pandemic/things not working out in his new life the way he hoped. He also knew at that time that "I'm good with people, but I've never really had an outlet for that" and he never gets to prove what he intuits until "Forks" - by the grace of Carmy, no less.

*lights a candle for Natalie Berzatto* All of Natalie's abuse is so straight-forward and targeted. I'm glad they explored her character this season, but she's still too neatly-tied for the type of abuse she endured. Some of that is a celebration of her core female essence/strength, but I feel like some of the veneer still has to crack in future seasons - if they have her reeling from postpartum depression in S3 on top of her initial worries about Donna/motherhood, it's truly going to break my heart.

Taking a moment just to appreciate John Mulaney belittling the Faks, as it's the only scene where I found their presence enjoyable.

Carm grabbing the saltines and asking Mikey about them working together - Mikey saying The Beef is a nightmare is self-explanatory, but the fact that Carmy follows it up with "I don't want you talking to Claire if you don't give a fuck" and Mikey assuring him that he does, convinces Carmy that Mikey loves him through his meddling with Claire. Out of the two things Carmy has yearned for (at this stage in his life) since high school, Mikey only wants him to have one of those things - the one Mikey and co. decide will be good for him.

Mikey saying "I give, like, the biggest fuck" and Carmen looking pacified/accepting of that statement, means that his father brother is telling him that Claire is the most important thing for him to pursue in his life, and he's just asserting his love for his brother by trying to set him up with her. So much damn pressure....

Discussing The Bear drawing outside the pantry

"It's beautiful....",

"Yeah....we could do this"

"Yeah.....let it rip."

I'm pretty sure this is the last one-on-one conversation Mikey and Carmy ever had, matching the suicide note - this scene is a living goodbye, and John Berenthal plays it like he knows it. Expert-level shit, expert-level acting all around.

All hail Sarah Paulson's hot mess of a character (you can take the dysfunctional girl out of the midwest, but you can't take the midwest out of the dysfunctional girl), even if she was just around to narratively offer Carmy a flashing exit sign (knowing that he's talented and cognitively different from the rest of the lot) and dole out the story about how bears grieve.

I think one thing that Richie, the Fak's and other "related by friendship" hangers-on have in common is that they recognize that Mikey and Carmy's familial suffering has made them dynamic in ways that their own suffering has not. Both have their own unique gravitas that separates them from all the other men in their crummy suburban life - these other men are trying to absorb power by proxy.

"Can you just go and get Dad's gun out of my drawer and I think I'm just going to blow my fucking brains out and then you guys can make dinner because I don't think anyone would fucking miss me" - many thanks to @loudlightobservation for pointing out in the part one comments that Donna probably has untreated Borderline and Narcissistic PD. I initially thought this scene was over-the-top, but I burned an hour reading about how severe the reactions to perceived abandonment can be in these cases.

As per my comments about Natalie and her veneer, at least she can do things like ask Stevie "can you hug me?" and select men like Pete who will always be ready to do so. Unlike the boys, she learned how to identify needs and self-soothe early, probably because she was the most neglected of the three.

Didn't know where to put this: Cicero's relationship/flirtation with Donna when she's in the kitchen "do you know how fucking hot you are when you're slurring your words?", Lee's hatred of Cicero, and Lee trying to make inroads with Donna (again) through a work collaboration - the building in Wilmette likely being the property that Cicero mentioned having to offload. Carol (revealed to be Cicero's wife by name in s1e4) yelling at Lee as he enters for his first scene of the show. Again, I didn't know where to put these interconnected notes, but WHAT. THE. FUCK. HAPPENED. HERE.

Also, is Lee a former partner in The Beef (after he presumably replaced the Berzatto patriarch for a stay) and that's part of the resentment towards Mikey - along with sharing Donna for a time? Or is it something else? I've had a hard time piecing together these narratives beyond the obvious psychosexual connection to Donna.

Ugh, the all-hands crucifixion of St. Pete - I morphed from "who is this cuck?" in season 1 to wanting to storm onto the set and carry him out myself like a baby - not unlike how I felt the first time I saw Carmy slapping the donut out of Marcus' hands. Cringe but ultimately minor transgressions in a charged environment wind up being the greater sin than full-on emotional abuse with the Berzattos.

I'm finding there's less to dissect in the second half of the episode - everything is more overt. Cicero is generous. (re: shielding Richie). Natalie and Carmy are emotionally spent from their Donna-duty.

The whole final Donna/Carmy kitchen scene brings up a lot of existential questions I ask myself as a cook about food being a mechanism of control. I love to gather and cook for people - but I also know I'm an anxious person who needs to control the narrative, and sometimes I want people to be somewhat beholden to me through the care I extend to them through food and entertaining. In doing this, I sometimes feel pushy, and know there is always a level of avoidance in hosting/caring for people.

But with Donna, and through that conduit, Carmy - food IS control. Food IS enmeshment. Food IS the forcing function for unruly togetherness (through the restaurant and grand celebrations in the Italian tradition).

I hope that Carmy, through his collaboration with Syd, carves out a healthier narrative of what caring for people through cooking and service means. I don't think he hates cooking, as others have postulated - I think he hates the enmeshment, I think he hates himself for feeling he needs to control people through food. I think he hates feeling forced to do it, because he can't function that highly outside of it. The sooner he can extricate himself from his past, the sooner I think he'll love creating food and sharing it again.

The Lee and Mikey jousting bit is essential to the dinner unravelling, but while it's immaculately acted, it's not really interesting to me since it's such an overt conflict. Poking the bear, fighting to be the patriarchal figure of the house, blah blah blah. It makes for great visuals, but it doesn't reveal any new depth beyond "men=fucked."

And the "cousin, you're scaring the normals" comment - I see no evidence that anyone who would willingly wander into this abattoir fits that description. The best part of the scene is when Lee says "throw another fork at me and you're going to get fucking rocked" and then there's just the pregnant pause, immaculately shot, with the old clock ticking in the background.

Lee's "You're nothing. You're nothing. You're nothing" harkens back to "You're bad at this. You are bullshit. You should be dead" - all of the Berzatto men are capable of being ground to a pulp by other men they perceive to be authorities in some form or another, and I think we're only just beginning to see in this season how women factor into the equation (those in charge and those who are seemingly powerless) after a lifetime ruled by Donna.

Donna, who enters the scene, and everything defers to the power she holds over everyone with her tempestuous illness.

Ha, I missed the line in Stevie's grace where he says "We're healthy, I think? No ones si....no ones physically very sick."

"Natalie Rose Berzatto...." God. If I had turned off subtitles, JLC's delivery in this scene would make anyone hear "Do you know how much I fucking hate you" - because that's what she meant. And God bless Michelle.

It seems like, the moment Carmy looks at the car and the cannoli, it's finally cemented in his mind that Mikey and Donna are intrinsically the same person (but the selective trauma memories he maintains after Mikey's death wipe out the bad, hence his surprise about him using etc). Ending with Natalie's A+ horror film face and the lyrics "Could you ever know how much I care?" was absolutely the right editorial tone to end the episode.

I'm going to be honest....I thought I'd find a lot more in this hour than I actually did.

I'm really looking forward to Bolognese onwards, mostly because I really miss Syd now - the show without her energy (mostly because Natalie still has inadequate development, through no fault of her own) is just male trauma from a male perspective....

#the bear fx #the bear season 2 #the bear spoilers #the bear #carmy x sydney #carmen berzatto #syd x carmy #sydney adamu #richie jerimovich #claire the bear #mikey berzatto #donna berzatto #the bear s2 #carmy berzatto

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partially-controlled-chaos · 10 months ago

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Come Back to Me Pt 5

Pairing: Astarionxf!Tav

Rating: M

Warnings: Hurt/angst, comfort, trauma, fluff, trauma, soft jealous Astarion

Summary: After an attack in the Shadow Cursed Lands, Tavriel is exposed to the toxins of fear inducing mushroom spores, causing her already weakened mind to relive the traumatic horrors of her past. Astarion and Halsin are forced to work quickly to cure her mind of the spores before the effects remain with her permanently.

Also read on AO3! Check there for more frequent updates because I sometimes forget to also post them here.

I also recommend reading my previous fic for some backstory on my Tav! Not totally necessary, but if you’d like some backstory you can find it here!

Masterlist

Come Back to Me: Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 6

Astarion shook his head as his tadpole disconnected from Tavriel’s, allowing his thoughts to once again be his own. His temples throbbed and his back muscles slightly ached, almost mimicking the true agony Tavriel was still reeling from. He felt his stomach twist into knots as bile began to rise, feeling ill just from witnessing the sadistic nature of Tavriel’s master. She had never shared specific stories with him, only general discussions of her tortures and suffering, but she had never revealed just how cruel Oaklarth was to her. He knew of her scars, but to see exactly how she got them and hear the bone-chilling screams she’d let out in the process coupled with the idea of knowing her master would then use and abuse her body against her will over and over again? It was almost too much to stomach. It reminded him too much of his own past traumas under Cazador.

Tavriel’s movements had once again slowed and she began to settle as she took slow, shallow breaths as the memory faded from her mind. She had grown weaker, her arms barely able to hold herself up, slightly trembling under her weight. Her head hung low, hair cascading over her shoulders as her breath came in slow gasps. Astarion watched helplessly as Tavriel simply sat there, her mind slipping further and further from reality. Anxiety had begun to settle in his chest and he had nearly jumped to his feet to drag the druid in the room before he finally heard the door click open. He wasn’t sure how long his mind had linked with Tavriel’s, but seeing that both Halsin and a cure for Tavriel had yet to come, he was afraid too much time had passed. Halsin appeared in the doorway, a cup of steaming, foul smelling tea resting in his hands. He closed the door behind him, looking to Astarion and then to the weary looking Tavriel who was barely supporting herself on the floor.

“That smells absolutely dreadful.” Astarion sneered as Halsin knelt beside him, carefully looking over Tavriel as he made sure not to spill the tea.

“I cannot promise it’ll be the most palatable drink, but it should cure her ailments. Considering we acted quickly enough, of course.” Halsin lightly lifted her chin with his fingers, only to have her weakly pull away. He gripped her chin a second time, a little more firmly than before, and put the steaming cup of tea to her lips.

“This will help you, my friend. No harm is meant.” He said as he slowly poured the warm liquid into her mouth and down her throat, letting her take small sips to ensure she consumed every drop. Tavriel was too weak to put up much of a fight. The memory she shared with Astarion via the tadpole was enough to weaken her more than ever. She slowly drank the steaming liquid, not particularly fond of the taste, but also not in the right state of mind to really make sense of what was happening. It took a bit of time, but eventually she had reached the bottom of the cup.

“How long will this take to set in?” Astarion asked as Tavriel downed the last of the tea from the cup.

“Not too long, but I cannot give you a certain time. This will make her sleep so her body can fight off the spores. She’ll wake when she is healed, but shouldn’t be more than a few hours. The infection is severe, but I do not think it’s beyond repair. She’ll be back to her usual self before long.” Halsin said as he removed the cup from her lips, watching her closely to make sure she consumed the liquid and didn’t expel it from her mouth. Much to his delight, she swallowed the antidote without fuss and allowed it to set in.

It didn’t take long for the tea to have an impact on Tavriel. Her already tired eyes had drooped, her lids slowly fluttering in an attempt to keep herself awake. The actions were pointless, however, and she soon closed her eyes completely and her head once again hung low to the ground. She gave one final, gentle moan before he body began to sway in exhaustion. Astarion gently grabbed her by the shoulders, helping to guide her down to the ground so she wouldn’t fall and injure herself. The vampire placed her gently along the floor on her side, happy to see that sleep had finally taken over his delirious love and she could finally heal. Both the vampire and the druid watched over her for some time, wanting to be sure there were no complications from the antidote Halsin had prepared. They watched as her breathing began to even out and she seemed to be in a peaceful slumber.

“Thank you.” Astarion said after some time of watching Tavriel rest.

“Of course,” Halsin said with a smile and a pat to Astarion’s shoulder, “I’m just sorry I couldn’t have prevented this. Will you keep watch over her? Or do you need me to step in?”

“Oh no, druid, I’m perfectly capable of keeping watch. Get some rest. I will call you if needed.” Astarion said as he settled on the floor, crossing his legs in the process.

“May Oak Father preserve you, my dear friend.” Halsin said quietly to the sleeping elf, placing a strong hand across his chest as he spoke. After a brief moment, Halsin left the room, giving one final glance to Tavriel before letting the door shut behind him.

After he was certain she was deep in her slumber, Astarion carefully removed the armor from Tavriel’s body in an attempt to make her more comfortable. He made quick and easy work of the leather straps that held her shoulder plates in place, letting them gently slide from her shoulders. He then moved to her sides, loosening the straps there to allow her chest place to be pulled off and tossed aside. He gently rotated her in his arms as he pulled the metal plates from her body, not wanting to disturb her too much, but she remained motionless, unaware of the elf attempting to ease her suffering. Once she was free from her bindings, Astarion scooped Tavriel into his arms, lifting her from the hard floor of their shared room and carried her to bed.

He placed her gently on top of the sheets, slowly letting her seemingly lifeless body sink into the soft mattress they shared, hoping this gesture would ease some of her discomfort. He lifted her head onto a pillow and softly brushed sweat soaked strands of copper hair from her face. She was drenched in dried sweat, no doubt a response from her frantic movements earlier in the evening. Her shirt was saturated as well, but that would be something to be dealt with later when she was once again conscious. After all, he had promised her a bath when she returned. Astarion pressed the back of his fingers to her forehead, checking for a fever as Halsin had, and was satisfied with the lack of heat radiating from her skin. He then moved down to check both cheeks, ensuring they were fever free as well, and softly ran his thumb over each of her cheekbones in the process. He was gentle with his touches, almost acting as if she was the most fragile of flowers that would disintegrate at the slightest touch.

“Is that better, my love?” He asked softly. He hadn’t expected a response, but he still noted the twinge of disappointment when he was answered with nothing but a still silence. His eyes were locked onto her as he sat on the bed beside the wood-elf, continually searching for signs of improvement in his beloved. He was being impatient, but wanted nothing more than to see her return to normal. More than once he found himself leaning over her body to press an ear to her chest, listening for a heartbeat. Her heart rate had slowed tremendously and her breathing had become so slow that he found himself frequently listening for the thumping in her chest to ensure she hadn’t slipped beyond the veil of life. It made him uneasy, seeing her look so lifeless, fearing that she might actually slip away from him.

Astarion climbed onto the bed himself, sitting on her opposite side and crossed his legs, more than ready to sit by her side until she was awake once again. He wrung is hands as he watched over her, anticipating her coming back, but also thankful that she looked as peaceful as she did. Even when they had first started traveling together, he had never known Tavriel to have a decent nights rest. He often found her strolling around the camp at night, eyes always scanning the perimeter as she walked off any nightmares she had relived. She was never truly at rest and admittedly seeing her so still and peaceful was a strange sight. Admittedly, he had grown fond of her late night walks. Given he was usually up late into the night as well, they’d made a habit of quipping back and forth each night and had ultimately grown closer because of it. But tonight was different. There would be no nightmares, no late night strolls, no patrolling to ensure her master hadn’t snuck up on her while she was distracted. Instead, Astarion would take on that role. He vowed to her that he would keep watch and protect her, making sure no harm would come while he was there.

Astarion couldn’t help but admire her features as she slept, his eyes slowly scanning her face as he committed every detail to memory. The corner of his lips twitched into a soft smile as he thought back on their travels in the sun, remembering just how much he found himself enjoying the way the sun would bathe her body. Her hair was a deep copper color and would glow under the warm touch of the sun and her complexion almost radiated a gentle heat. The freckles that littered her cheeks and nose would grow just slightly darker if they spent too long in the light while walking. Before they came to the Shadow Cursed Lands, Astarion had often found himself desiring to kiss Tavriel the way the sun would, with feather light kisses on every freckle he could find from her face to her arms and even the few she had on her stomach and legs.

As far as he was concerned, Tavriel was the sun. Even if he was doomed to forever dwell in the shadows after he rid himself of his brain worm, being with her would be just as satisfying. She was a beaming light of hope, despite her own darknesses, and was the one thing that could bring him true happiness. Alternatively, spending an eternity in the sun without her by his side would void of any joy and positivity. The strongest rays of sunshine would do nothing to break through the dark cloud of her absence.

“You have truly and utterly bewitched me, darling.” He said as he gently placed her bruised hand in his, “You don’t cast magic, but you’ve certainly cast some sort of spell on this dead heart of mine.” He was unsure if she could hear or understand him, but was hoping she would. Despite his feelings towards his companion, he found it difficult to express to her how much she truly meant. It was much easier, in his mind, to open up to her when she was asleep and didn’t have to worry about how she may respond. Not that Tavriel would ever say anything to absolutely crush his heart, but he wasn’t confident that she felt the same way towards him. Tavriel was an incredibly difficult book to read and Astarion couldn’t decipher her feelings towards him. And now, with the offer from the druid, he was even more unsure.

“You have been quite the unexpected surprise on this little adventure,” he continued, “but I wouldn’t have it any other way. I couldn’t have asked for a better companion. You have shown me kindness, even in the worst of times, and I cannot thank you enough for that. It’s a debt that cannot be repaid, although I will do my best; I can promise you that much.” His thumb stroked her hand as he spoke, relishing in the softness of her skin. Tavriel still remained motionless, her chest barely moving with breath. Astarion leaned forward slightly, placing a delicate kiss to the freckle on her wrist before he spoke again.

“I also swear to you that we will find that rat-bastard of a drow and make him suffer for everything he’s done to you. Even if it’s after we deal with these infectious little worms and our little band of misfits parts ways, I will make sure we find him. Let you deliver that final, killing blow and do everything in my power to let you live whatever life you want. The life of freedom that you deserve, my darling.” Tavriel had promised to help Astarion hunt down Cazador and now it was his turn to make the same promise to her. One promise he was more than willing to make. He delivered several soft issues along her knuckles and to the back of the hand he was holding, hoping that maybe just one soft kiss would be enough to stir her from her slumber. However, much to his dismay, Tavriel remained still.

************************************************************************************

“Something is wrong,” Halsin said plainly as he gently lifted one of Tavriel’s eyelids with his thumb, observing the eye underneath, “She should be awake. Her eyes have cleared and there are no traces of the spores.”

Two days had passed and Tavriel still remained unconscious, much to the worry of both the vampire and the druid. Astarion never left the room, not wanting to miss the moment she potentially could open those pretty eyes of hers. Halsin on the other hand would flit back and forth, wanting to check on Tavriel but also not metaphorically step on Astarion’s toes. Because Tavriel had not explicitly stated that she wanted something more from Halsin, the druid wanted to be as respectful as possible to her relationship with Astarion, who had become increasingly protective over his lover the longer she was unconscious.

“Her eyes are no longer clouded by the spores,” Halsin continued as he observed her other eye, “but they’re clouded with something else. It’s as if her mind has left her body.” Astarion peered around Halsin, looking over the unconscious elf on the bed. The druid was right, something was not right with Tavriel. Her normally vibrant green eyes were dull, not quite fogged over, but as if her very soul was missing from them. The light in her eyes had simply disappeared and had been replaced with something cold. A chill caressed Astarion’s spine; the sight of Tavriel was too similar to corpse for his liking.

“What do we do?” Astarion asked after a few moments of silence, “Can you heal her?”

“I’m unsure if I’m being honest,” Halsin said as he stood, pressing his knuckles to her forehead to once again check for a fever, “this is most unusual. I’ve healed many who have been infected with the spores, but they have never reacted like this. They’ve usually stirred a few hours after drinking the antidote, at most overnight, but never days on end.” Satisfied in feeling no fever from Tavriel, Halsin removed his hand and stood quietly, lost in thought.

“Surely there are others you can converse with,” Astarion suggested, “to have a second opinion on if your methods of healing are actually working and where to go from here.” His words with said with the intent to wound the druid for failing to bring Tavriel back immediately, but was disappointed to find that they had simply rolled off Halsin’s back unnoticed.

“Let me speak with the harpers,” Halsin said eventually, “perhaps they know of something I may have missed. Stay with her, if you will, and let me know if she stirs in the meantime. Surely time is not on our side with this matter.” Astarion’s lip curled slightly at his words, but eventually gave a single nod in acknowledgement. Without another word, Halsin left the vampire in charge as he hurried to find a harper in the inn, hid pace quickening with each step. After the door to the room had closed, Astarion turned his attention back to Tavriel.

“Now, darling,” he said as he knelt next to her on the bed, “you made me a promise. And if I remember correctly, you keep your promises.” He gently stroked the spot between her eyebrows with his thumb, the other hand holding one of hers. “Don’t break this promise, my love, please. I can’t do this without you. Hells, you’re still here, but I’m already lost. If you leave, I’ll be lost in this darkness forever. Come back to me, Tavriel.” He planted a single kiss to her forehead before standing, turning to being pacing the room once again.

After a solid day of sitting next to her on the bed with no signs of life, Astarion had to keep himself moving to try to keep unwanted thoughts at bay. He strolled the length of the room slowly, his eyes staring into the dimly glowing embers of the fireplace. He kept one arm folded across his chest, using it to support the other as it nestled under his chin, occasionally running his thumb over his lower lip in thought. Although the pacing helped to a degree, wicked thoughts still managed to creep their way into Astarion’s mind, causing his stomach to knot in disgust.

“This is your fault, you know.” He said to himself as he made another turn in the room, “If you had just been stronger in convincing her not to go, she would be here with you now. But no, you were weak. Pathetic. You rolled over and showed your belly and now she’s as good as dead.” He shook the thoughts from his head, desperately trying to think of anything else in the meantime.

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Tavriel found herself on her hands and knees on a stone floor, the sharp stones digging into her flesh. She wasn’t sure about where she was, but she knew it was no place she wanted to be for too long. After a moment, she came to realize she was in a room, cold and damp, and it was unsettlingly dark. Even with elven dark vision, she couldn’t see more than a few feet in front of her. The darkness was cold and piercing, quickly settling into her rapidly beating heart. Tavriel slowly made her way to her feet, her eyes scanning the room for any sign of another person or, more preferably, an escape.

She dared to take a few steps in front of her, her legs shaking from the pressure of the stones she had been kneeling on. The room was small, yet it seemed never ending. She couldn’t quite make out the wall on the opposite side. Each step she took only seemed to make the wall take a step back from her. After a few more steps she turned, hoping that by going into an opposite direction would lead her to an exit, or at the very least, some answers as to where she was. But no matter the direction she went, Tavriel was lost. She was greeted by nothing but darkness and the never ending loop of a room. She felt tears begin to well in her eyes as she continued pacing, the piercing coldness of the room and the dread of being alone was starting to set in. Gods, how she hated to be alone.

“Darling.” She heard a voice behind her. Quiet and inviting, almost inaudible. She turned, hoping to see a figure standing within her line of sight, but was instead greeted only with more darkness. Her eyebrows knitted together, now wondering if she’d actually heard something or if she had finally lost her mind. She took a few more steps in the direction of the voice, her hand outstretched to prevent her from bumping into any obstacles. Eventually, the tips of her fingers brushed against a piece of damp wood.

A simple, wooden door was nestled in a deep socket of the stone wall, well hidden in the depth of darkness that surrounded her. As she looked over the potential exit, she could see a very soft, faint glow of light peeking through the crack where the wood met the frame. Hesitantly, she approached the heavy door, placing her hands along the wood before pressing her ear to the gap in the frame. She listened closely, hoping to hear the voice once again. Tavriel held her breathing, seeing if it would allow her to hear the voice more clearly. After a few moments of deafening silence, she heard it again. That soft, gentle voice that had called to her previously. She recognized the voice, but couldn’t place a face. She’d heard it many times recently and it was always the same soothing voice each time it visited her. It called to her from the darkness and beckoned her to the light on the opposite side of the door. Her hands fumbled the surface of the door, searching from a handle or lever she could pull. When her fingers touched the seam and the light shining through, she felt a warmth she wasn’t accustomed to feeling. Whatever it was, was loving.

“Come back to me, Tavriel.” The voice called once again as she found her grip on a metal knob. She held it tightly, turning both directions as it spun in her hand. Tavriel pressed against the door, finding it had come give with her weight. The elf tossed her weight more heavily against the wooden door blocking her path, finding that it bent more and more with each shove. She continued, slamming more roughly into the door with each go, until it finally snapped under her movements. The door burst open and Tavriel fell to the ground on the other side with a grunt, fully bathing in the light and warmth that was cascading over her.

************************************************************************************

Tavriel’s eyes opened slowly, her vision blurred and hazy as she tried to make sense of her surroundings. She wasn’t quite sure where she was, other than a bed, but she did know that it did not belong to her master. She stayed silent and turned her head, unsure if she was in safe company or not, and watched as a figure in the room slowly paced back and forth, unaware of her presence. Tavriel blinked repeatedly, trying to remove the fog from her sight as she hoisted herself to a sitting position. Instinctually, she let out a loud groan as she moved, the pain that shot through her body was too much to bear to keep quiet. Everywhere from her head to her legs ached and burned and she had only just noticed the purple bruising that covered her hands. Her ribs felt as if they were breaking with her movements and the scars along her back burned with an intense heat.

Astarion’s head whipped her direction, surprise covering his face as Tavriel seemed to suddenly spring to life. She groaned again, teetering on the precipice of a scream as she placed her feet on the ground, seemingly ready to stand. Astarion quickly closed the gap between them, wanting to reach out to keep her from standing too soon, but froze mere inches from her when he saw the look Tavriel had etched across her face. In her still confused mind, Tavriel couldn’t tell who was approaching her, but assumed it was a threat. She leaned back as far as her aching body would allow her and placed a hand in front of her to stop the figure from coming closer. He watched as her outstretched hand trembled in fear, the familiar feeling of dread once again settling in his heart. His eyes then found hers as she scanned his face, desperately trying to understand who was with her. Tavriel’s breath was as shaky as her hand as she looked over the stranger, still unsure if she was with a friend or an enemy.

After a moment her mind started to clear and she took in the man’s features. Silver hair. Red eyes. Pale skin. Puncture wounds in the neck. She knew this face and knew it well. Both elves remained silent as Tavriel regained her posture, slowly coming back up to a sitting position. Her outstretched and trembling hand soon slowed and reached for the familiar face in front of her. She softly placed the hand on his cheek, wanting to feel him in her grasp to ensure he was real and not just another figment of her imagination. Astarion leaned into her touch, offering her a small smile as her thumb caressed his cheekbone.

“Astarion?” Tavriel asked softly, her voice hoarse from her cries.

“Welcome back, my dear.” He said as his smile slightly grew, relief beginning to wash over him as Tavriel placed her other hand on his opposite cheek. She cupped his face as her eyes continued to scan his features, still half expecting him to fade from her grasp and be plunged back in her masters dungeons.

“...Real?” She asked hesitantly as her grip on his cheeks tightened slightly.

“Oh yes, love. I’m very real.” Before Astarion could say more, Tavriel pulled him to her. One arm snaked around his back and the other hand found purchase in his hair, her fingers gripping his curls tightly to keep him close. It would have almost been painful had Astarion been gripping her with any less force. His hand slid up her back and rested at the base of her head while the other landed on the sheets behind her, keeping the vampire from toppling on top of her after her pull. They stayed still for a few moments, relishing in the embrace of their companion.

With his arm beginning to lose feeling from supporting them both, Astarion stood straight, bringing the other elf with him. Tavriel let out another strained groan as she stood, a wave of pain strong enough to make her vision temporarily blur and see white. She clutched to Astarion, her eyes clenching shut as she waiting for the last twinges of agony to subside. Instinctively, Astarion nudged Tavriel to release her grip and tugged at her shirt, ready to pull it out of the way to look over her wounds. In doing so, he felt her tense and he immediately stopped his movements.

“May I?” He asked cautiously as he lightly tugged at the hem of her shirt, signaling he wanted to remove the article to observe her injuries all while not wanting to frighten or unsettle her more than she already was. Although both elves were very comfortable in being scantily dressed or fully nude in each others presence, the act of actually undressing the other was still tender ground. It reminded both of them what it could easily turn into, even though neither were never in the right mindset for sex. They were happy to take things slow, although in this instance Astarion found it necessary to see just how badly Tavriel was hurt.

“Of course.” She said quietly, still fighting off the last aches from standing. Tavriel slowly raised her arms over her head, trying not to make her winces too noticeable. Astarion lifted her shirt, carefully tugging it over her sore arms and eventually over her head completely. The tips of his fingers ghosted over her wounds, slowly tracing the various bruises and scratches. Her numerous scars were inflamed, almost pulsing under his touch, and dried blood was stuck to some of her deeper scratches.

“You need healing, dear.” Astarion said as he looked over her exposed skin, grimacing at the deep bruises that were self inflicted in her delirium, “Let me go find the druid and see what he can do.”

“No,” Tavriel said with another groan, “I’m fine. There’s no need to waste the resources if I’m not bleeding out. We should save them for someone more important. I’ll heal up in a few days, trust me. I’ve looked, and felt, much worse.” Tavriel reached for her shirt, but Astarion had a firm grip on the ragged fabric, keeping it in his grasp.

“You will do no such thing!” Astarion shouted, a bit more desperate sounding than he had intended, “Darling, I can’t think of a single more important person that needs our bloody supplies more than you do at the moment. Let me help you.” Tavriel placed her hands over his own, shaking her head as she pried her shirt from his grasp, tears threatening to begin pooling on her eyelids.

“I don’t want to cause more trouble than I already have,” she said as she pulled her shirt back over her head, “I’ve made you worry enough as it is. You shouldn’t have to take care of me like this.” The wood-elf gestured to her head, two fingers tapping at her temple.

“But I want to,” he said more gently than before, “and so does every member of our little group. Believe me when I say that everyone wants to see you well. Some more than others, but nonetheless, all members are on board.”

Tavriel sighed heavily, allowing her eyes to close for a moment. She was exhausted and it was beginning to show. The two days she spent in her medicine induced rest didn’t allow her to sleep. Her body was still, but her mind raced; memories flashing, voices floating in and out, and trying to escape the confines of her own mind. Which, of course, had been combined with the sheer panic and terror caused by the mushroom spores, which only drained her energy more. Long nights of no sleep in the Shadow Cursed Lands and the ever present feeling of the mind flayer tadpole swimming behind her eye only added to the exhaustion.

Tavriel was running on empty, her own body threatening to betray her and collapse under the immense pressure she was facing. But even still, she hesitated in accepting help from her companions. She was their leader and the driving force behind finding a cure to the tadpoles that didn’t involve growing a set of tentacles. She couldn’t appear weak in front of them. It would make her look feeble-minded and could cause the others to think she didn’t know what she was doing. Tavriel had convinced herself that she had to be strong for the others. All of her companions had their own host of terrifying and world shattering issues themselves ranging from a magic powered orb threatening to detonate at any time to the looming threat of the goddess of darkness. Compared to them, Tavriel felt inferior. Her issues, as traumatic as they may be to her, seemed insignificant. And yet, here was Astarion, who was spending every waking moment of his undead life running from his former master, desperately trying to convince her that it would be okay to lean on him in her moment of need.

“Okay,” she said with her eyes still closed, “okay.” Astarion felt another wave of relief wash over him at her agreement for just basic healing.

“Now then,” Astarion sighed as he tucked a few stray strands of hair from Tavriel’s face, “you wait here while I go fetch the druid. Once he’s done we can get you that bath I promised and see if I can do something with that dreadful burlap of yours.” Tavriel snorted at his teasing, her eyes snapping open as she remember their conversation from before her journey.

“You’re still on about that?” Tavriel cocked her head slightly, a small smile tugging at the corner of her lips.

“But of course!” He said with a flourish, “The current state of your hair truly is a crime, love, and I would be a willing accomplice if I didn’t offer my services.” Behind her eyes he could see she was still worn down, but was elated to find that she had easily accepted his gentle teasing.

“I thought you enjoyed the occasional crime?” Her head still tilted to the side as her smile widened. She grabbed onto his arms, firmly holding on to the vampire. Her legs were weak from exhaustion, threatening to collapse under her weight if she didn’t cling to something.

“I have standards, my dear.” He said with a wink. “And, if memory serves me correctly, you did offer me a reward for my hard work. And you do know how fond I am over a piece of treasure.” Astarion offered her a coy smile as he placed his hands on her waist and gently pulled her to him, trying to avoid agitating any wounds on her body while keeping her on her feet.

“Indeed I do.” She said softly. The elf pressed her forehead to his, mirroring their final embrace before she left for the shadows, sighing contently at the contact. They stood there for some time, simply enjoying the others touch.

“Meet me in the baths when you’re ready, my love.” Astarion placed a soft kiss to her temple, his hands lingering on her waist before pulling away and slipping out of the room. Tavriel made her way back to the bed, seating herself on the edge with a grunt of pain. She sat there with her eyes closed, trying to center her thoughts as she waited for Halsin. She found a flurry of butterflies making their way to her stomach as she remembered the conversation she’d had with Halsin before making contact with those dreaded mushrooms. In a way she was thankful for Astarion pushing for Halsin to come heal her. They needed to talk and it simply couldn’t wait.

Tag List:

@meganwritesfanfics

#baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #tav #astarion #astarion x female tav #astarion x tav #spawn astarion #fanfic #astarion fanfic #astarion fanfiction #named tav #halsin

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strongbrew-hamstery · 2 years ago

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There is something oh so adorable about the beep squeaks that 2wk old baby hamsters make when playing with their siblings. The #ColourKids are no exception (I can hear them now!) and I give you a wrestle between Red #Butler and #Shy Violet, interrupted by a curious but uninterested #Canary Yellow. Syrian hamster adults are strictly solitary, which makes the short time they can cohabitate with momma and siblings oh so precious. They learn a lot from their siblings and mother, and just like all baby animals do, they play! It can be difficult for us humans when we know that Syrian hamsters are solitary as adults, but they don't just come out of the womb ready to be independent. When Syrian hamster pups are born they are totally reliant on their mother for care. They are hairless, and their eyes and ears are not functional. At a week old they begin to eat some solids but still heavily nurse. By two weeks, their eyes are open and they are waddling around but still reliant on momma and siblings for food and warmth. At three weeks, momma hammy begins to wean her pups but that doesn't mean they're ready to pack their cheeks and move out. It isn't until a Syrian hamster pup is four weeks old that they can be separated from their mother. Even still, it is vitally important that they cohabitate with their same sex siblings until minimum five weeks, but six weeks is much better (unless they fall out). At six weeks old, hamster pups are ready to go to their new homes. Hamsters learn various behaviours from their mother and siblings. Nesting, burrowing, stuffing their cheeks, grooming and all sorts of other things they develop by watching momma. Their play wrestles with their siblings help teach them proper bite inhibition too. Plus, it's just fun! While it's tempting to tell someone to split their Syrians, first ask how old they are. They might be pups and your advice - while well intentioned - could actually seriously injure or kill these pups. Please do remember though adult Syrian hamsters are *strictly* solitary. Cohabitation of adult Syrians is stressful and unfair to them, and can lead to injury or death. #informative https://instagr.am/reel/CrJrNllgNkc/

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jjmichie · 2 years ago

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In Too Deep: Chapter 3

Fiction. In case you missed Chapter 2 you can find it here

The hotel was a pain in the ass to get to. Stone had to admit he was disappointed in her choice of the Edgewater, which was a typical choice of many first time visitors, with its convenient proximity to the Needle and the Market and all the ferry piers. But this also made it ground zero for meandering crowds of tourists and very fucked up traffic.

He studied the scrap of paper again. Edgewater Hotel. Written in cursive, with a delicate slant to the right. He had flipped it over several times during the drive, examining both the front and the back, hoping that somehow a room number would materialize next to the hotel name, but of course, it didn’t.

As his car crawled into the hotel driveway, and he passed under the watchful gaze of balcony-occupants, through the stone entry, he debated whether to give her shit for being such a tourist, or just be nice about it. Jeff was always telling him he needed to be nicer, but on the other hand, Molly seemed to get him, get his humor, so probably wouldn’t hurt –

But then he saw her. She was waiting for him, just outside the hotel’s glass door.

A simultaneous wave of excitement and panic rushed through him. Part of him had hoped she wouldn’t be there. That she would just not show up. He had no idea what they were going to talk about, and he was worried that she wouldn’t like the itinerary he had planned out for the day. Plus, just the thought of her made him tongue-tied and sweaty. And now the sight of her made him . . .

“Hi!” she called, as he stopped the car and stepped out. “You’re right on time.”

Walking around to the passenger side, Stone admired her. She was wearing snug blue jeans with suede hiking boots - smart! - and an oversized wool sweater, topped off with a green knit hat and scarf. The exact same green as the droopy spruce trees that lined the hotel driveway. Much more casual than she had looked at the office, but so beautiful. And so perfect for the surroundings. No one would guess she was from L.A. Or that she worked for a major label.

“You look . . .” Stone stopped himself. Was complimenting her appearance appropriate? It wasn’t like this was a date. And she was married. “. . . like you’ve lived in Seattle all your life!”

“Really?” She looked genuinely happy but a little surprised. Stone realized her eyes were now taking in his own carefully chosen outfit – very different from hers - with his Nike high tops and cropped black pants, multiple belts, his animal print vest and leather jacket, a scarf around his hair, and a few too many pendants dangling around his neck. Fuck, he had totally miscalculated. Standing next to her, he felt ridiculous. Like he was trying. Like he was shouting to the world hey I’m in a rock band.

But her eyes had already moved on to his station wagon.

He had actually cleaned it. But as he held the door open for her, he noticed it still reeked of stale party and probably should have been run through the carwash again.

“Have you been to the Space Needle before?” he asked as they got in, trying to distract her, trying to pull her attention back to the day at hand.

“The Space Needle? Really? What do I look like to you, a tourist??” she gestured out the window at a clump of meanderers in baseball caps and fanny packs, bumping into each other as they unfolded their accordion maps and burned their memories into photographs.

“Ha!” he couldn’t help but crack up. She did get his humor! “Ummm . . . hey you’re the one staying right in the heart of tourist-ville. At the Edgewater. Were you hoping to run into the Beatles? Have them reel you up on a fishing line?”

“Oh, so now I’m a groupie?” she pulled off her hat, as the car was warming up. For some reason Stone found himself wondering what he would look like in it. The green would match his eyes. “I actually have been to the needle before . . . but not with the guitarist for Mother Love Bone.” She glanced down at his belts. “So I would gladly do it again . . .”

Stone took her to the Space Needle.

He also took her to Pike Place Market. He took her on a ferry boat across to Bremerton and back (they didn’t get off the boat). They had oysters at Elliott’s. They went to the Art Museum. They walked by the Cinerama. He walked her by the Northwest school and told her about his time there. About learning to play the guitar there. About the encouragement he got from his teachers and classmates. How he believed he must be the only person in the world who had actually enjoyed high school. They walked up and down the streets of Capitol Hill, with their lush trees and early century homes and nice restaurants and burgeoning art galleries and funky shops. Whatever fears he had had about conversation topics or the day’s activities had subsided into a calmness as they took in a cup of coffee at one of his favorite spots. She had become somewhat quiet, letting him ramble on about the places and experiences that comprised his youth.

“This is cool . . .” she finally said, interrupting his story about the time he had gotten in trouble for sneaking out at night with his best friend to go to illicit clubs.

He wasn’t sure if she meant the coffee shop, or the city, or the moment.

Her expression was thoughtful. Serious. Looking him right in the eye. The aloof sarcasm that had characterized their rapport at the beginning of the day had given way to a genuine sweetness that blended with the hazelnut aroma of their coffee and filled the air between them.

“I think I’m going to like it here.”

Continue to Chapter 4

#fanfic #grungefic #mother love bone #seattle #stone gossard #1989 #In Too Deep

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whatsnewalycat · 2 years ago

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Psychomanteum / Chapter 2

Pairing: Dieter Bravo x F!Reader

Chapter 2: Blotter Acid Reflux Syndrome

Chapter Summary: You go to a party with your BFF and see a familiar face.

Rating: Explicit (18+ only)

Word Count: 8.8k+

Content / Warnings: alternating POV, death, car accident mention, drug use & addiction, flashbacks, alcohol use, grief, a dick named Glenn, blow job, LSD trip narrated, paparazzi

Notes: Chapter title from "Blotter Acid Reflux Syndrome" by Atmosphere. I can't possibly explain how fun this chapter was to write, or how excited I am to share it with you. I would apologize for how many times the word "WOW" is in here, but I feel like it holds true to the acid trip experience lmfaoooo.

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You finally did it. You cried today.

After sanitizing your essentially commercial-grade kitchen, you sat down on the couch and turned the TV on. You weren’t sure what to watch, but had a hankering for some trashy ass trash TV. So you turn to your favorite reality TV show: Jersey Shore.

But while you were trying to sink into a state of pure escapism, all you could do was stare at the ugly giant black stain in your carpet.

The blackest ink in the city. Ethan went on and on about it one night.

As should be obvious, “blackest ink in the city” means it’s really fucking saturated with pigment. Pigment that has spent the last few weeks settling deep into the fibers of your white carpet. The stain mocks you constantly, jeering, “He’s gone and I’ll be here forever. Isn’t that just the damndest thing?”

With a huff, you decided to do something about it. You watched Jersey Shore with your legs splayed on either side of the blackhole and scrubbed. The soapy water started to foam black under the bristles of your scrub brush.

You were looking up at the TV, watching the rowdy group of roommates fist bump and take shots, and all of a sudden you started thinking about the night you and Ethan met.

Your coworker, Miranda, brought you to a party at her friend’s apartment. Some dude named T-Bone or something equally ridiculous sold you some molly. When it took effect, you planted yourself down on a couch and marveled at the colorful light show being projected onto the ceiling. You’re not sure if the gradient-shifting laser beams were actually moving to the music, or if the MDMA just made you feel like they were, but you were fucking entranced.

The couch shifted as a stranger plopped down next to you and followed your lead, staring up at the lights, then gaped, “Wow, ok, I get it.”

“Get what?” your head rolled on your shoulders to put a face to the voice. He had a hooked nose, only made more distinct by a receding chin. The corners of his full lips turned up in a smile. Your intense attention was completely shifted, and now you were marveling at him.

“Why you’re sitting here like this,” he answered, then turned to you. Your eyes locked. His pupils were so dilated, you couldn’t even tell what color they were. All the air whooshed from his lungs as he breathed, “Holy shit, will you marry me?”

You started giggling and your fingers twitched towards him as you asked, “Can… Can I touch your face?”

He nodded, gaze flitting between your eyes and extended fingertips. You pressed the pad of your index finger flush to his hairline, then ran it down the middle of his face, smiling from ear-to-ear, gasping, “Wow. You’re so beautiful.”

“Can I kiss you?” he tucked your hair behind your ear. The touch made you shiver. His eyes, total eclipse irises, drifted to your parted lips. You nodded, and his hand slid to your chin. He reeled you in, and when he kissed you, his barbs were embedded in your heart.

Totally and completely fucking hooked.

You’re not sure how the two of you got back to his apartment, since you don’t recall your lips departing his, but eventually you were there. He was buried inside you within 10 seconds of entering the residence.

Still leaning against the door, chests heaving, fuzzy from MDMA and post-orgasm bliss, he kissed you with his soft, alluring lips and then smiled against you, “My name is Ethan.”

You couldn’t help but start laughing again at the absurdity of it all, because you were certain that you had fallen in love with this man without even knowing his name.

He would tell you later that he did, too. It was like all those stupid songs and movies and romance novels describe: love at first sight. Your fingers raked through his short, prematurely gray hair, “Nice to meet you, Ethan. My name is Louella.”

Ethan dug out some comfy clothes for you to wear, then the two of you alternated between getting to know each other, watching Jersey Shore, doing lines of coke, and having mind-blowing sex for the next 8 hours.

Now, it’s true that you’ve been accused of being pretentious. And, whatever, maybe you are pretentious. So, as one could expect, you couldn’t stop your face from folding up into a sneer at some of the things the people on this reality TV show said and did. When you criticized one particular instance of ridiculous party monster antics, he called you on your bullshit.

“What, are we so much better?” he asked you with a quirked brow, eyes searching your face, honey brown iris barely visible behind the blown-out pupils. You looked up into the mirror hanging opposite the bed and saw yourself, naked, coked up, rolling on ecstasy, cuddled up against this man who brought you home and fucked you before you even knew his name.

“Shit, you’re right,” you laughed, “What the fuck do I know?”

And then today, you were sitting there on your living room floor, thinking about him and his blown out pupils, and Jersey Shore, scrubbing the fucking stupid stain from the ink he went on and on about when he was coked out of his fucking skull two weeks before his birthday.

Each time the black foam rose above the bristles and overflowed onto your knuckles, you dipped the scrub brush into a bucket of warm, soapy water at your side, and you began again. But the stain wasn’t lifting.

Those fucking blown out pupils as he narrowed his eyes at you after unwrapping your gift. The blackest ink in the city. He tilted his head and pursed his lips, “How did you know about the ink?”

“You told me about it two weeks ago,” you told him. Chest caving in on itself. He was rigid, gripping the box with white knuckles.

“I didn’t tell anyone about the ink, Lou.”

Fucking black eyes. Unblinking. Boring into you as if you had revealed yourself as an informant. Like he didn’t trust a fucking thing you’ve ever told him.

And this fucking stain, it wasn’t lifting. Not even a little. Just foaming black until it touched your skin and you’d rinse and start again and again and again and your hands eventually stained black, too. Blackest ink in the city.

Anger flared in your chest and overrode your actions. A gravely scream rose in your throat, scraping it raw. You chucked the brush across the room, splattering a foamy, black ink mess across the wall as it hit. Fucking stain. Fucking ink. Goddamn motherfucking Jersey Shore.

You were enraged. It’s so unfair that here all these goddamn things were, existing, but he’s gone. A suppressed shriek burned your vocal chords and you yanked on your hair just to make it hurt, screeching in a broken voice, “Why did you fucking leave me here?”

The agony circulated through your body, pumping thick and wet from the valves of your heart. Your black stained fingertips pressed against your face as you curled up into a ball and fell sideways. A lump surfaced in your throat. Tears pricked your eyes, just a few at first, and then a steady stream as a howl escaped your throat.

Once it started, it was difficult to stop. Weeks worth of backlogged tears fighting their way from your aching chest, up your throat, out your eyes.

A broken dam of grief.

You cried so loud and hard and long, it’s any wonder none of your neighbors came knocking at your door.

They were probably listening, telling their roommate or spouse or kid or whoever in hushed tones about the poor wretch whose husband lost it and drove them both into a telephone pole at 60 MPH.

The poor wretch, who was writhing around on the stained living room carpet, finally releasing the pressure from her inflamed soul.

Before you knew it, the sun had set. The tears were waning. The once hot, soapy water was cold and cloudy black. You picked yourself up and trudged your meatbag over to the bathroom mirror to survey the damage on your face. It was about what you expected. Swollen, wet, and hard to look at.

Your phone vibrated in your back pocket. You sniffled as you pulled it out and unlocked the screen. As if he had sensed your distress, it was a message from your best friend.

> PARKER: > Need to get out of the house? Party in LES, I’m bringing Lucy.

“What’s this chick’s name again?” Glenn asks when the elevator door slides open and he starts walking in-step with Dieter. At the end of the hallway, the indisputable bumpbumpbumpbump of a party sounds from behind the door of apartment 4B.

“Katie,” Dieter answers, then turns to his companion, “She’s cool. Don’t be a dick.”

Glenn scoffs, throwing his hands up in the air defensively, “Fuck you, I’m not a fuckin’ dick.”

“I didn’t say you are a dick, I told you not to be a dick,” Dieter looks Glenn up and down as they come to a stop in front of 4B.

Objectively, Glenn looks like a total dick. His signature pompadour, made possible thanks to brunette hair plugs, sticks an inch off his scalp. His body is spray tanned a bronzy orange two shades too deep. He used to obtain this freshly-vacationed “glow” from a tanning bed. It shows in the deep folds of his skin, no matter how many chemical peels or laser treatments he gets.

If it wasn’t the douchebag hair, or the fake bake, or the way his teeth are the color of bleached white toilet bowl porcelain, or the way his face is always dripping in smugness, even in his goddamn sleep, Glenn would still look like a dick, because he dresses like a dick. Showing up to a fucking house party wearing an Armani suit, for fuck’s sake.

And if it wasn’t all of the above? Even if Glenn wasn't the poster child for washed-up 90's sitcom actors? He would still probably look a dick, because that's what he is.

A fucking dick.

Dieter raises a hand and raps the thick, golden band of the ring on his index finger against the door that reads 4B.

It swings open almost immediately, and they’re greeted by the hostess. Her curly ginger hair bounces as she jumps up and down, clapping, “Oh, you made it!”

Dieter gives a quick nod of acknowledgment, pulling her in for a one-armed hug as he scans the room over her shoulder, “You look fucking stunning, sweetheart.”

Katie’s loft apartment looks like it was once a warehouse, but converted into overpriced housing. Industrial lighting dangles from the ceiling, casting a golden glow onto the party and its guests. From his vantage point at the door, Dieter can see the kitchen where people are huddled around, railing lines off the granite countertop, talking over each other. A brown leather couch, which looks like it’s normally a staple in Katie’s living room, is now only an awkward centerpiece on the crowded dance floor.

“Aww, thank you, love,” as she pulls away, her lily pad eyes land on Glenn and a charming smile plays on her plump lips, brought to you in part by JUVÉDERM® Ultra XC, “Who did you bring?”

“Glenn Evans,” Glenn brings his hand up to meet Katie’s, pairing a brief shake with his too-perfect, too-practiced, too-white smile.

“Katie Wainwright,” Katie looks between the two men, gaze settling on Dieter when she says, “Want me to show you around?”

“If you don’t mind,” Dieter winks. Her freckled face flushes pink as she tucks hair behind her ear and starts off towards the kitchen. Dieter follows, watching the hem of her unseasonably short black dress sway just below her ass as she walks.

Katie parades Dieter and Glenn around the loft, introducing them to everyone that crosses their path. Each new cluster of humans seems to include an aspiring actor, a waiter, and some kind of a niche content creator that Dieter can hardly comprehend. Many of them are familiar with Dieter, some of them are familiar with Glenn.

As if mind-altering substances are the price of admission for a conversation, several people offer up tokes, drinks, and lines to Dieter and Glenn as they meet and make small talk.

While Glenn is off talking to a captive audience about his defining role as Arnie Walker, a stranger, who introduces himself as Parker, approaches Dieter and gives him two tabs of acid.

He’s skinny and tall, wearing black, tight, ripped up jeans, a nondescript black t-shirt, and a pair of all-black chuck taylors. His coiled dark brown hair is buzzed close to his scalp in a fade, and his ears stick out wide from the sides of his head, proudly displaying a pair of large silver hooped earrings.

The man’s dark sepia skin is littered with a series of small black tattoos that seem unrelated but are so similar in style that they work together cohesively. They’re all stylized like illustrations found in classic storybooks. Some of the art is pulled directly from the inspiration, like the mad hatter from Lewis Carroll’s Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland on his left forearm, carved in between tattoos of a head of broccoli and a disco ball. Fucking fascinating.

“Those were the last I have, so don’t go telling everyone,” Parker explains with the wink of an amber brown eye, “And, no obligation to hang or anything, but my friend and I just took a few doses, too.”

“Right on,” Dieter grins, then opens his mouth to press the two paper squares under his tongue. He bids Parker adieu when he spots Katie, alone, leaning back against the kitchen counter. She’s bobbing her head along to the music absentmindedly while supervising the partygoers dancing around her couch.

As he approaches, she meets his gaze and smiles wide, “Hey! Having fun?”

He sips bourbon from the glass in his hand, nodding, then inquires, “Did you hear anything back from the screen test yet?”

With a heavy sigh, she glances down her glass of white wine, “Not yet, have you?”

“Nothing,” his eyes dart around the room, then return to Katie with a suggestive quirk of his brow, “You know, if we both get the parts, we would be spending a lot of time together.”

She bites her bottom lip and smirks, looking from his lips to his eyes, “I don’t think I would be too upset with that.”

The little flit of her gaze sends all the blood in Dieter’s body to his cock. He licks his lips and takes a step towards her, “Can’t say I would be, either.”

“Is that right?” her eyelashes bat as she tilts her head.

He takes another step forward, leaning in close enough to smell the notes of sweet pea and jasmine on her perfume when he breathes against her cheek, “So is there anywhere private in this apartment?”

Katie bites her lip and nods, “Follow me.”

She pushes off the kitchen counter and leads him up the stairs to her loft bedroom, passing an empty bed, instead making a beeline up to what looks like a floor-to-ceiling mirror. She slides it open, revealing a walk-in closet. Stepping through the threshold is like being enclosed in a vacuum, only intensified when Katie slides the pocket door shut. The echoing noise of the loft apartment is almost completely silenced, and the colorful garments lining the walls make the space feel warm and insulated.

Dieter turns around to face Katie, who’s only inches away now. She reaches up with an expertly manicured hand and drags her index finger along his jawline. A shudder rolls down his back. He aches for the touch of another against his skin.

Enclosing her hand in his, he presses his lips to her wrist, then brings her warm palm to lay flush against his cheek. He holds it there, drinking in the heat of her skin that seems to only whet the thirst inside him. She pulls back from his grasp and, to his surprise, drops to her knees and starts to unbuckle his belt.

“We don’t have to go right to-“ he starts, but by then, his jeans and boxer briefs are at his ankles, and Katie is holding his semi-hard cock in her palm, looking up at him through thick, black eyelashes. His mouth forms an o when she sticks out her tongue and flattens it against his frenulum. It slides back and forth, electrifying him from deep within. His cock jumps and he throws his head back.

“That’s so good, sweetheart,” he groans when her mouth closes around his width and she swirls that sweet tongue around his head, “What a perfect fucking mouth. Lick me so fucking good.”

She hums enthusiastically at the praise, drawing her eyebrows together. Her green eyes are dark with lust, fluttering up to meet his gaze, bubblegum pink tongue sliding around the sensitive skin. He’s rock hard now, waves of pleasure climbing from his cock, to his core, up his spine, spreading through his body like the most delicious venom. He bites his fist to resist grabbing her hair.

Her lips slide further down his shaft. She starts sucking him off, taking more of his length with each bob up and down. Her puffy pink lips are gaining more color, stretched thin and red around him, shiny with saliva. The weight of ecstasy mounting intensifies when he hits her gag reflex and her throat muscles twitch at his head. Her mouth produces hot, wet saliva that squelches around him when she recovers and takes his cock in her mouth again, and again, and again. It is fucking divine.

His mouth agape, he stares down at her and hesitantly rubs his thumb against her freckled, rosy, hollowed out cheek, asking, “Can you take all of me, baby?”

She hums around him and nods, pulling a moan from his throat, then adjusts her position and holy fuck, does she prove herself. When she drives her mouth onto him, his thick, swollen cock glides past her gag reflex, and the ridges of her throat squeeze him. Those lilypad eyes flutter up at him once he’s fully engulfed, as if to say “told ya so.”

“Oh my- fuck, sweetheart, oh that’s fucking amazing, you take me so fucking good-“

She moans wantonly, vocal chords reverberating around him, and it almost knocks him on his ass. Her reddened lips slide up and and down his slick cock, slurping noises emitting from her pretty fucking drooling mouth. Dieter’s heart is pounding, and the sweet, dizzying tingle of ecstasy is intensifying. She halts with his cock buried deep in her throat and bobs with quick, short movements.

They moan in unison as he closes his fist in her ginger locks. He’s breaking out into a sweat, meeting her watery eyes, groaning, “That pretty fucking mouth, holy fuck, Katie- so good- gonna make me fucking cum-“

She responds positively to this, moaning as she picks up her pace. This is when he notices that she has one hand between her legs. Flimsy teal underwear pushed to the side, exposing her sparse, wispy, red bush. Her pussy is glistening and she’s working her clit in tight, precise circles.

“You’re so fucking hot, sweetheart, look at you- touching yourself while you suck my cock-“ he growls, grip on her hair tightening, “You gonna make yourself cum like that? Hmmm?”

A frantic whimper vibrates around him and pools hot in his belly, but he keeps his resolve, husking, “I want you to cum with my cock in your throat, baby, you can do it.”

Her whimpers grow into moans, louder and more frequent, and her fingers work faster. She’s so fucking close. Dieter pushes her further, “Such a fucking good girl, taking care of both of us-“

Her eyelids flutter shut. He keeps going, holding back his own mounting pleasure, gritting his teeth, “Fuck, Katie, you can do it, let me see you cum, sweetheart.”

With this, her high-pitched whines reach a fever pitch, and her whole body starts to shudder. She drips a wet spot onto the carpet of her closet and her watery eyes roll back. She’s gargling on his cock through her orgasm, drool running down her face. He coos, “Good girl, so good- fuck,” then his hips take over fucking the wet heat of her mouth, working at a needy pace. His eyes close and his head falls back as he chases the holy sensation of his hot, gooey center expanding.

It grows and grows until it swallows him whole. His hips snap forward as he cums down her throat. She swallows around him, taking it straight to her belly, and he moans as her muscles contract around his sensitive cock. He pulls out and stumbles back, leaning against an unstable fabric wall made of her clothing. Some of the garments fall of the hangers onto the floor as he the waves of ecstasy start to peter out.

He releases his death grip on Katie's hair and looks down at her, mouth gaping and chest heaving. She wipes her mouth innocently and smiles. His thumb rubs into a pool of spit still stagnant on the corner of her lips, and he mumbles, “You’re fucking amazing.”

They find their way back downstairs after Katie cleans herself up in the en-suite bathroom connected to her closet. While she resumes hosting duties, bullshitting and such, Dieter starts to notice the world twisting around the edges.

He takes a look around and sees Glenn mixing in with the kitchen folks, still rallied around a powdery granite countertop as he rambles out the stories on his “impress new people” rolodex. Dieter has heard them all to an exhaustive degree just within the past week, so he ambles around in a content haze, swaying gently to the suggestion of “Them Changes” by Thundercat blasting over the speakers planted around the apartment.

Giggles and murmurs lilt down from Katie’s loft bedroom. The noises seem to take up a physical presence, floating from the source through the waves of music, settling on him like confetti.

He didn’t realize he was following the beacon until he's standing at the foot of the staircase. Hushed laughter kisses his face and shoulders, growing louder with each step he takes. When he arrives at the top of the stairs, he finds the guy that gave him the acid, Parker, laying next to another person on Katie’s bed. All fuzzy and crystallized, both dressed in all black, starkly contrasting the cloud of white blankets and pillows they're floating atop.

“Hey man,” Parker waves a fluid hand, “Wanna come lay with us?”

“Who is… us?” Dieter giggles when the comic book word bubble appears over his head.

Sixteenth notes from all over the chromatic scale erupt from the other figure's throat in a giggle. Dieter gasps softly at the familiar tune, trying to pinpoint the melody he knows has been stuck in his head for weeks. He blinks, then squints and steps closer, unable to believe his eyes.

The woman laying on the floating cloud extends her hands towards the ceiling, black short sleeved t-shirt exposing the crawling skin of her arms, one covered with tattoos and scar tissue.

Orange Sunny D words spill from Parker’s lips. The pool spreads across the room, flooding their way into Dieter’s ears with a citrus tang, telling him, “Parker and Louella.”

“Louella?” he whispers in italics. The name tastes like flaky puff pastry and warm apple filling. It beckons him the way a curl of steam wafts off a pie cooling in the windowsill entices a passing cartoon character. Apple pie. Apple Danish. Dieter licks his lips and swallows wet and he can taste the sweetness with a tart bite, folded in with warm hints of nutmeg and cinnamon.

A wide smile spreads across his face as he floats onto the white, puffy, cumulus bed, sandwiching you between himself and Parker. His body sinks down. He sighs with relief when he feels surrounded by comfort. Inextricably, he feels connected to the cloud and it’s occupants.

He looks up, breathing in time with the rippling ceiling, “Wow, this is fucking amazing.”

“It is,” you agree, unable to take your eyes off the ceiling as the golden illumination from angular light fixtures shifts into exquisite patterns, wriggling to the beat of the music. The man next to you turns his head and you feel his eyes fixed on you, so you turn to face him.

You each examine the other’s pulsing, blurry face as the freight train of recognition comes out of nowhere and hits you. The dimmer switch controlling his face lights all the way up at the same time yours does.

“I know you!” you gasp, “Dieter?”

Dieter nods with his mouth agape, eyes getting impossibly wide as a dimpled smile stretches across his features, “Of course it’s you.”

The way he says this occupies space in your body as Valentine’s Day clichés. You’re all red foil, heart-shaped Mylar balloons and Hallmark cards and bouquets of red roses.

“Have you guys ever heard of the mycorrhizal networks?” Parker asks in a shiny, golden haze, pulling your attention away from Dieter. Parker's hands, a million little glowing organisms spinning and working together, leave ghost trails as his fingers dance in time with the waves of EDM undulating from the sound system, leaving you slack-jawed.

Laughter flitters from your mouth in shiny iridescent bubbles. Your fingers and toes are buzzing with delight.

Dieter’s words come out in a thick, chartreuse, polyester yarn, spooling into a ball, “The mushroom phones, right?”

“Mushroom phones,” you whisper, then start giggling as you imagine cartoon mushrooms calling each other from their homes on the dewy forest floor.

“Yeah,” Parker exhales, “They like, um, they’re connected underground and tell each other things.”

“Whaaaat? Really?” you raise your hands, still tinged black from the blackest ink the city, above your face now, watching in awe as the skin twists and turns, radiating euphoria down into your bones., “What do you think they talk about?”

Dieter’s chartreuse ball of yarn starts to spin again, “They tell each other what’s going on in the forest, and what they need, like if they’re low on,” he pauses and holds his breath when a bass-heavy indie rap song starts vibrating through the air. You realize that you’re holding your breath, too. The music reverberates down your spine and your vision explodes fireworks when the beat drops.

You both start breathing again with a gasp, “Wow.”

The three of you lose all words, staring at the ceiling as you watch it dance in a rainbow kaleidoscope to the rhythm. When the song fades into another, Dieter starts giggling, “Holy shit, what was I just saying?”

“Um, let’s see…” Parker sighs. His brainstorm rolls across the cloud, through you.

“Mushroom phones!” you burst out, one hand reaching over to grab Dieter’s in excitement at your excellent memory in action. It feels soft and warm and fucking amazing. You marvel, “Oh my god, hold my hand, please.”

He nods and a low, content hum rumbles from his throat when his fingers interlace with yours, locking in place with a squeeze that radiates across your body, dripping hot and wet down the middle of you, and a gasp floats from your lips, “That feels so good.”

Your other hand finds Parker’s and you squeeze it, looking over at him with a wide grin.

“Wow,” Parker giggles at the sensation, tightening his grip on your hand, then gasps a shimmering golden fog, “We’re like… we’re like a mycorrhizal network right now.”

The fog rolls into a haze that hovers over the three of you. It settles onto your bodies with weight, dew clinging to your skin as you sink into a bed of moss on the forest floor, pulling a collective wow from your lips. The synchronization makes you all start giggling an exhaust of sunshine and lemonade, glowing, twirling, bundling you in a warm summer embrace.

As the laughter subsides, you theorize out loud, “If you think about it, our souls are like… connected like that. Like the um….”

You roll your head towards Parker, looking at him for assistance with the world that rolled off his tongue so perfectly. He offers it up on a silver platter, “Mycorrhizal network.”

You swallow big and nuzzle into the comforting heat of your best friend, “Yeah. That. When I died, I felt it. Like… We’re all from this big pool of humanity. But when we’re born we’re just like, in our own special containers.”

That sense of belonging larger than yourself that you felt upon your death returns, and you picture the iridescent vessel you were hurled down moments after you floated from your body. Moments after you were hurled from the windshield of Ethan's car. For some reason, it feels like the vessel spit you back out right here on this cloud tonight. Like this is the first day of your new life. It takes your breath away.

Dieter’s hand squeezes yours and you melt into putty, but he doesn’t seem to notice or mind how gooey and pliable you are in his grasp. You close your eyes and revel in the bliss that shivers across your skin. You feel his gaze on you, so you open your eyes and turn to him, and now he’s in the vessel, too.

His big tootsie pop eyes meet yours and you smile as wide as your face can allow, then probably even wider. He whispers, “I died, too.”

Your mouth gapes open in disbelief, but all that comes out is a sharp giggle.

“Hang on-“ Dieter rolls on his side to face you, tucking your clasped hands under one of his cheeks, “I have to tell you something.”

Your fingers twitch and you feel compelled to let go of Parker so you can touch Dieter’s face. The heat from his grip and his cheek surrounds your hand, electromagnetic energy radiating from your fingertips to your heart.

“Lua,” Dieter starts, chartreuse yarn rolling in the space between you, “Can I call you Lua?”

“Yes absolutely,” you nod seriously, “Can I call you Dee?”

“Yeah,” his face melds into a pleased smile, then he lays back and looks at the ceiling, “I died. And I felt that, too. Like, um, like uh, we’re all connected. All from the same. We don’t even know it. Then we return someday to the… what did you call it? Big pool?”

“Like a sea?” Parker asks.

“A sea, yeah,” you confirm, rolling onto your back. You let go of your partner's hands and wave your arms across your field of vision to create liquid trails of your patched up skin, “A sea of love.”

“Sea of love,” Dieter repeats in awe as his gaze fixes on your hands, “Wow.”

The ceiling above starts to move in crests and troughs, wavelengths syncing to the music blasting from another world. Water. You try to swallow but it’s an arid desert.

“I’m thirsty,” you declare. This is not good news. Thirsty means you need water, which means you have to get water, which means having to move from this safe space.

“Oh no,” Parker giggles out nervous little vibrations that settle uncomfortably in your belly, “One of us has to go get water.”

You sit up abruptly to survey the party below. Humans mull about in the open space, blending together in nondescript blobs, dancing, hollering, drinking booze, snorting lines.

They don’t know about the mycorrhizal networks, or the cloud, or the sea of love. They don’t get it. A shudder rolls across your body and dissatisfaction tinges the world around you a stormy gray. You fall back into the warm embrace of the cloud and inform your friends breathlessly, “Don’t go up there, guys, it’s not the same.”

Parker giggles nervously, the notes twisting at your guts when he chirps, “Oh no.”

“Maybe Glenn is on the mushroom phone hang on,” Dieter appears to be thinking hard for a minute as he exerts psychic power downstairs. All movement on the cloud ceases except the magnified brain waves Dieter exerts downstairs. Nobody even breathes.

After what feels like forever, Dieter exhales an opaque violet sigh, “He won’t pick up.”

“Oh no,” you press your fingertips to your lips. The pressure shimmers down to your core with gravity like a rain stick flipped upside down. You begin to trace your lips, slowly. Beads clatter softly against your bones and organs and muscles as they fall from one end of you to the other, defying gravity. Your shoulders relax and you sink deeper into the cloud. What were you even fretting about?

“WAIT!” Dieter gasps, sitting upright at a speed that makes his body lag behind a few frames. He looks from you to Parker with a brilliant smile, then stands up out of the bed, “I know a place. Perfect place. Follow me.”

You and Parker sit up and watch him. The new elevation makes your head spin.

When Dieter starts towards the wall opposite Katie’s bed, a black terror claws its way through your gut. A mirror stretches from the carpeted floor up to the ceiling. You’re consumed by the gnawing desire to hide from its view.

But you can’t look away.

The mirror reflects an image of you and Parker on the cloud, but it appears dark and sinister. Your head tilts as the geometric patterns seem to bend and twist, outlining something behind your shoulder. Two eyes, a nose, a mouth. A face. Ethan’s face. Hovering over your shoulder. He’s trying to trap all of you.

Your hands fly over your mouth, and as Dieter steps closer to it, you yelp, “Don’t! Please don’t, Dee, don’t go by the mirror.”

Dieter turns around and holds out a fluid hand to you, exerting a sky blue sureness that makes your hands fall from your face as he coos, “It’s ok, I promise, Lua.”

Your hand finds Parker’s, and you lace your fingers together, watching Dieter with wide eyes as he floats across the room. Parker squeezes your hand, surrounding you with serene blue waters, assuring you, “I’m here, Lou. It’s ok.”

Dieter pushes the mirror to the side, revealing a secret passage.

This blows your fucking minds. It’s a whole new world. He flips the light on and reveals a tunnel lined with stripes of fabric in a rainbow of colors and textures.

“Holy fuck, dude,” Parker laughs, letting go of your hand to throw both hands over his mouth in disbelief, “No fucking way, is that Narnia?”

“Come on,” he waves the two of you to follow as he passes through the threshold into another world, a brave explorer, “There’s a bathroom in here with a sink. Water!”

You cautiously stand up, but you can’t take your eyes off the mirror. It’s still watching you. Inky black terror coats your body. Ethan’s face swirls in the geometric patterns, and your head whips back and forth in a refusal to approach. You retreat to the bed, hugging your knees to your chest as you whimper, “I can’t. I can’t go by the mirror. He’s in there, guys. He’s stuck in there.”

You clamp your eyes shut. Prisms in a spectrum of brilliant colors bounce around behind your eyelids, exploding into fireworks, twisting into swirling diamonds. The bed shifts and someone touches your face, brushing their thumb against your cheek.

The muscles of your throat strain to swallow nothingness into the dried up well, then you crack one eye open cautiously, expecting to see Ethan coming back to take you to the next life. But instead, you see Dieter, and his soft touch against your cheek pulls you from the darkness. Parker puts his hand on your back from beside you and rubs it, warmth of his affection soothing the monster tearing up your insides.

“We can do this, sweetheart, it'll be ok,” Dieter promises. His chartreuse spool of yarn swirls around your body and hugs you tight.

You look to Parker, who nods in reassurance, “We’ll all go through together. It’ll be better in there. You can do it.”

Their confidence and camaraderie uplifts your spirit. You close your eyes for a moment to take a deep breath in, then you slowly exhale the black ink stain. Blackest ink in the city.

Then when you open your eyes again, you nod. They pry your white-knuckle grip from your knees and each hold one of your hands and pull you up to your feet. The grip is warm and comforting and your chest swells with fluttering pink butterflies and golden glitter. In this moment, you swear you love these two people more than you’ve ever loved before.

It is everything.

When you take a step towards the gateway and feel the mirror’s gaze, you shrink back.

“I have an idea,” Dieter announces, then turns to you, commanding all of your attention. Your eyes lock on his and gasp. They’re warm, cocooning you in love. He asks, “Do you trust me?”

You nod without thinking twice.

“Ok, here we go, close your eyes.”

Your eyes snap shut and it’s all rainbow fireworks and patterned prisms of light you follow behind closed eyelids. Dieter places one hand on your back, then the other sweeps you up by your knees into his arms. You link your arms around his neck and bury your face in his sweater, pressing your cheek against the feathery soft plumage of the angel.

You feel like you’re flying as he takes a few steps forward, then calls back, “Come on, I need you to turn this one around,” then he directs his chartreuse yarn at you. It crawls into your ear and weaves a blanket inside you, “I’m gonna set you down, but don’t open your eyes until I say so.”

“Ok,” you breathe. He lowers you down and your feet touch the ground, then take root. You leave your eyes closed, face pressed against Dieter’s angel wing sweater, hands linked behind his neck, watching the light show behind your eyelids. An intermission. Halftime show.

“In the bathroom, too, put a, umm… a towel over it,” Dieter directs Parker. There’s a rummaging noise and you try to imagine what Parker is doing, but you keep getting distracted by millions of twisting and turning patterns that seem to occupy your consciousness as a whole.

“Ok open your eyes,” Dieter instructs, his voice cutting through the thick film of geometric shapes. You follow his instruction slowly, cracking one eye open, then the other, then you look up at him. His dark chocolate eyes melt into you and you know that it will, in fact, be ok.

The closet door slides open and Katie halts mid-stride to find you, Parker, and Dieter laying side-by-side, packed together like sardines on the floor of her walk-in closet, giggling. Instead of being in their rightful place hanging up, several of her clothes are draped across your friendship cluster. Your mycorrhizal network. Your little sea of love.

The hallucinogenic side-effects of the LSD are wearing off, mostly just leaving you euphoric. You’re holding a sequin dress above your head, moving it to the beat of the music emitting from Parker’s phone. The brilliant gems reflect the light in a hazy kaleidoscope.

“Um, hi…?” Katie tilts her head at the scene before her, “What’re you guys doing?”

“Katie!” Dieter exclaims, a smile stretching across his face as he explains, “We’re exploring.”

“You… turned my mirror around?” she frowns at the huge floor length mirror that’s now facing the wall.

“Mm yeah, it was not good in there, had to close the portal,” you explain without looking away from the sparkling dress.

Parker starts giggling and reaches out to touch the dress, informing her, “Bathroom mirror is covered, too.”

“Oh,” her big green eyes search the closet, then the bathroom. She frowns and blinks in annoyance at the intrusion, “Well, party is over now. It’s time to go.”

“Aw man,” Parker whines, then sits up and turns to you and Dieter, “You wanna go get breakfast? There’s a diner around the corner. They make the best pancakes.”

“Is it cold outside?” Dieter asks, eyes widening as he looks from Parker to Katie.

“Yeah,” Katie scoffs, rubbing her eyes with her palms as she yawns, “It’s February, of course it’s cold.”

“How cold?” Parker asks Katie now.

She throws up her hands, “I don’t know, 10°?”

You toss the sequin dress aside, shrugging as you look between Parker and Dieter, “That’s not so bad. We can walk."

A smile extends across Dieter’s face, “Awesome."

The streetlights are still on, reflecting shimmering rainbows off snow piles lining the sidewalk and the layer of frost that has accumulated overnight. You bury your hands deep in the pockets of your puffy, black winter coat. Brisk winter air licks the exposed skin of your face. You breathe it in and exhale a thick vapor.

Parker and Dieter follow you outside, and both start giggling at the change of scenery and temperature, then simultaneously notice the shimmering layer of frost coating everything your eyes can see. A white plume of, “Woooooow,” emits from their mouths at the same time. The visual synchronicity of their brains pulls champagne bubbles of laughter from your throat.

“Hang on, I got just the thing,” Dieter announces, then digs in the pockets of his tawny fleece jacket, pulling out a joint. He plugs it between his pillowy lips and lifts a lighter to the end. The glowing orange cherry flashes bright with each inhale as he puffs the intoxicating smoke. It produces an unmistakable skunky odor. He holds it out to Parker and says, “Lead the way.”

Parker plucks it from his comrade’s extended hand, and mutters, “Off we go,” before marching past you. He is the engine of your three person choo-choo train. You take turns leaving an exhaust trail of cannabis smoke as he moves full steam ahead. It feels like an Olympic event. All three contestants are silent in concentration as you navigate the iridescent, glittering sidewalks, passing a joint back and forth like it’s the torch that holds the Olympic flame.

You’re following Parker’s wide strides with intensity, when all of a sudden he comes to a standstill. Unable to react to the cease movement fast enough, you run headfirst into his back, then Dieter slams into you, creating a pileup. All three of you curse and start giggling at the clumsy incident, then Parker turns and opens the door to an unassuming diner, chiming a bell inside.

You wipe the soles of your shoes on the black utility rug at the entry before stepping onto the black and white checkered linoleum, peering around the establishment as the feeling of another decade sinks into your bones.

Chrome swivel stools with crimson seats are spaced equidistant apart on the receiving end of the long lunch counter. Crimson booths line the outer walls. The large picture windows faintly mirror the brightly lit scene inside. There’s a fucking jukebox playing “All I Have to Do Is Dream” by The Everly Brothers next to the restroom door.

A memory surfaces from one night back in your childhood home. You were restless and unable to find sleep, then you heard one of your parents put a record on in the kitchen. Following the sound, you tiptoed out of your dark bedroom and peaked around the corner to see your mom and dad dancing in the middle of the kitchen. Your mom’s head was laid on her dancing partner’s chest as they swayed to the gentle doo-wop. Her face was wet with tears, and you didn’t understand why she was crying.

That fucking song.

A waitress whose black hair is done up in a beehive, because of course it is, approaches the three of you with plastic menus and shows you to a booth.

“You were right,” Dieter declares as his fork cuts through the stack of maple-syrup soaked buttermilk flapjacks, “These are the best pancakes I’ve ever had in my fucking life.”

The waves of LSD are weak and spaced far apart now, and you’re floating back to reality like a leaf falling from a tree in an autumn breeze. The sun is rising outside and melting the frost in increments.

“Parker knows his shit when it comes to food,” you inform Dieter, “Did you know that he’s the head Pastry Chef at Antoinette’s?”

“No shit?” Dieter raises his eyebrows at the unassuming adult goth sitting across from him.

Parker nods as he swallows his mouthful, then looks at you for confirmation, “I’ve worked there since we graduated from CIA, what, fifteen years ago?”

“Just about,” you grin, then look to Dieter, “I worked there for a while, too, ‘til Ethan and I started up our business.”

“Do you guys ever have bake-offs?” Dieter wonders out loud, then tips his head to look over his sunglasses between you and Parker, “Because I would be happy to be the judge of that contest.”

“I fucking bet,” you chuckle, “You have a sweet tooth, huh?”

Dieter nods and grins.

“I was shocked when you ordered so much from me last month, but it’s starting to make sense now,” you wink.

When you glance around the diner, you notice a red-headed man at the lunch counter holding his phone up at your table, obviously taking pictures. Your brow furrows and you nudge Parker, “Is that guy taking pictures of us?”

“Mm,” Dieter sounds as he swallows a mouthful of pancakes, then nods to the stranger, “Paparazzi.”

“But… why?”

“They’re on me like flies on shit lately,” Dieter explains, “With the divorce and all.”

This perplexes you. What the fuck is he talking about? Paparazzi? The divorce? It dawns on you that, despite bonding with Dieter throughout the night, you have no idea who he is really. Your face scrunches up in confusion, “Are… are you famous or something?”

Both Dieter and Parker lower their forks and stare at you with an equal amount of confusion.

“I uh… yeah, yeah I am,” Dieter chuckles softly, looking from the paparazzi to you with a smirk, “You didn’t know that?”

You shake your head, “No.”

“Really, Lou?” Parker laughs, throwing his head back as he howls, “He like, he won an Oscar and everything.”

Your mouth falls open and you gasp, “No fucking way!”

“It’s true,” Dieter points his fork at Parker. The concept makes your head spin. It’s not like you thought he was a stockbroker or something, but you never would have guessed he’s a famous actor.

“I don’t believe you guys,” you raise your eyebrows and poke at your food.

Parker laughs even harder and starts slapping his hands together.

“Here,” Dieter tells you, then turns to the not-so-discreet man taking pictures of your table, “Hey, who am I?”

Void of shame, the plump, middle-aged man doesn’t even try to pretend he’s not immortalizing the moment on film, and thus, answers without moving the phone from its place, “Dieter Bravo.”

Dieter’s eyebrows raise and a grin breaks out across his face as he points to the man and swivels his gaze back to yours. He shifts in his seat and pulls out his phone, tapping the screen a bit before he turns it around to face you. The top of the screen displays a tabloid headline:

BRAVO V BRAVO: DIVORCE TURNS NASTY!

It’s a picture of Dieter, obviously taken by paparazzi. He’s walking down a sidewalk in what you guess is LA, wearing a loose gray t-shirt and sweatpants, face shielded by sunglasses, hair flying every which way, mouth clamped in a thin line.

“What the fuck,” you blink, brow furrowed as you look from the phone screen to the man holding it, then sigh and shake your head, “I can’t deal with this. I’m gonna pretend you’re not.”

“Fine by me,” Dieter mutters, then takes his phone back and tucks it into his jacket pocket. He runs his hands through his wild hair as he sighs, “What a way to find out my life is a fucking circus, huh?”

“Mmm, well, my husband died in front of me like a month and a half ago if that makes you feel better,” you shrug, then nod to Parker, “Parker is dating a married guy. We all have our shit shows. Ours just aren’t published.”

They’re both stunned by your frankness.

“Wow, Lou, spill my secrets for me,” Parker scoffs, rolling his eyes.

“What?! It’s only fair, we’re all on neutral ground now,” you snort to yourself, “Pobody’s nerfect.”

“Can’t believe you just skimmed over your husband dying again,” Dieter gapes.

“Can’t believe you just said pobody’s nerfect,” Parker shakes his head, then starts giggling. All three of you turn your attention back to your food. You wiggle happily in your seat as you chew a fluffy, buttery, maple-syrup soaked mouthful of flapjacks.

“So, uhh, Parker,” Dieter starts as he wipes his face with a napkin. His big, pretty brown eyes peer over the top of his sunglasses, “Married men?”

Parker’s cheeks deepen in color and he groans, “Yeah.”

Dieter raises an eyebrow as a mischievous grin plays across his face. Parker clocks it immediately and chuckles, “Sorry, you’re not my type, love.”

“Is it the pending divorce?” you joke at both of their expense, and you all break out in laughter. When it dies down, you shift in your seat and look down at your plate as you ask Dieter, “So are you gay, then?”

He shakes his head, “Bi.”

It’s irritating how relieved you are to hear this, but your face lights up and you exclaim, “Me too!”

Dieter picks up the sweaty glass of ice water next to his plate, “Cheers, queers.”

You and Parker hold your glasses up and they all clink together in celebration.

“Holy fuck,” Parker groans as he lowers his cup to the table, then throws his fork down on his plate, “I’m so full. I can’t. Take me home, mommy,” he lays his head on your shoulder and closes his eyes, “I need a nap.”

The words curl up inside you and your body slumps at the recognition of exhaustion. You rest your head on his and pout, “I don’t wanna take the subway again, though.”

“Let me call a car,” Dieter digs his phone out of his pocket. Neither you, nor Parker deny the offer. It sounds infinitely better than the alternative. Dieter hovers above the phone, tapping the screen lazily as he yawns.

Parker yawns next. Your nostrils flutter and mouth opens wide to take a sharp breath. The yawn expands your lungs and makes your eyes teary, “That shit is contagious.”

"Hey, wake up. We're here," the timbre of Dieter's voice cuts through the REM sleep, yanking you from the passenger's seat of Ethan's car, where you were scrambling to connect the seatbelt before he runs another red light.

Your eyes blink open and you take a sharp breath in as you stretch your hands and feet as far away from you as you can manage, warming the thinned out muscles into wakefulness. You whip your head around and are relieved to see it's daylight, and you're in the backseat of an SUV, seatbelt firmly holding you in place.

Dieter is sitting right next to you in the middle seat, despite the empty seat next to the window. His brown eyes are peaking over the top of his sunglasses as he watches you regain your bearings. You swing your glance out the window at the entrance to your apartment building, then back to Dieter and croak, "Thank you for bringing me home."

"Don't mention it," he smirks. The way his body is still lining yours, and the sad sort of look in his eyes like he doesn't really want you to go, it reeks of loneliness.

“So are we really friends or is this going to be a one-night-stand kind of friendship?” you tilt your head to the side, meeting his gaze, not moving to get out of the vehicle quite yet.

His tongue clicks on his teeth, then he frowns, “You wanna be friends with me?”

“Obviously,” you scoff, then heat spreads across your cheeks as you stammer, “If you wanna be friends with me, too, that is.”

“Obviously,” he mimics your scoff, "You have my number, yeah?"

"Mmm, yeah, but you don't have mine," you chuckle, "Do you want it? The not-a-burner-phone number?"

His face lights up and he nods. You give it to him and say goodbye, then go upstairs to your apartment and promptly collapse on your bed, sleeping until the sun goes down. When you wake, you have a text from Dieter.

> DEE: > Lovely Lua. Let's hang out again when I'm in town next?

[ Next Chapter ]

#pedro pascal #psychomanteum #dieter bravo x f!reader #dieter bravo x female reader #dieter bravo x reader #dieter bravo x you #dieter bravo #dieter bravo fic #pedro pascal character fanfic #pedrostories #pedro pascal fandom #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal character

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oneshot-wxnderland · 3 years ago

Text

Lab Partners With Benefits Pt. 3 | Percy Jackson

Summary: Another week, another lab and Y/n and Percy are feeling a different kind of tension this time.

Category: fluff

Part 1 | Part 2

–––––––––––––––––––

Percy had been kicking himself all week. He had forgotten to ask you for your number before you left his place and now you probably thought he was just some asshole looking for a one-time hookup. And he didn’t want that. And he hoped you didn’t want that either. But he wasn’t really sure what he wanted.

It’d been a hot minute since Percy was in any kind of relationship and he wasn’t sure if he was even the relationship kind. Even if he did want to be, his life just didn’t lend itself to dating mortals. There was always some monster popping up that he’d have to fight, or quest he’d have to go on, or emergency at camp he’d have to run off to, and Percy was a shit liar. It’s what messed up the last time he’d tried to date somebody. He was constantly blowing off dates and rain-checking everything because the gods are needy attention seekers.

He’d seen superhero movies before and related a lot to when they had similar issues. Percy’s not saying he’s Spiderman or anything, but he does live in New York and save it from constant peril – so yeah, he’s Spiderman.

This time, however, he was really considering trying again. Trying with you. And Percy had a plan.

Sliding into his seat when there were only a few other people in the room yet, Percy felt pumped up. He woke up early, showered, had a FaceTime with the boys to discuss the game plan, and got to class ahead of you so that he was ready to give you his number the first chance he got before he lost his nerve. That was part of Jason’s advice: offer his number to you instead of asking for yours. He claimed it would make Percy come off more vulnerable and less pushy. Leo mostly just spouted different cheesy lines that Percy would never use. Frank didn’t say much but Hazel piped in every now and then when she took the phone from him.

“So, you’re lab partners,” Hazel started. “Do you talk outside of your lab?”

“No, that’s why I need her number.”

“But you said you did homework together at your place right? So how’d that go? Did she seem interested?”

Percy paused.

“Yeah, it went... fine.”

Hazel was blissfully unaware of the blush that was creeping up his neck but Jason didn’t miss it. Or the way he suddenly needed to roll up his sleeves and fiddle with them.

“Did you just do the homework?” Jason asked suspiciously.

“We uh... kissed...”

“Niiiiiicee, Percy!” Leo hollered. “That’s my boy!”

Frank retook the phone from Hazel and hastily gave an excuse to go before leaving the call and cutting off Hazel’s confused protests.

“I don’t know what to tell you, man,” Jason shook his head. “This is way beyond my level now. Piper and Annabeth are nearby I’ll go get them-.”

“No!” Percy cut him off. That’s the last thing he wanted. The girl’s won’t know or care what to do so they’d ask Piper’s siblings and then the entirety of camp would know. “It doesn’t really change anything. I’m going to give her my number and then the ball’s in her court and I don’t have to worry about it.”

“But your balls were in her court, weren’t they Percy.”

“Leo I am going to kill you when I get back to camp and that is a threat.”

Leo left the call.

“I’m sure it’ll be fine, just don’t do your game-time face because it’ll scare her off,” Jason tried to get the conversation back on track.

“What face? I don’t have a scary face?” Percy added another item to the list of things to not do when he saw her.

“Yes you do. It’s when you’re charging into battle but this isn’t battle is it Percy?”

“You’re lucky,” Percy lamented while he grabbed his backpack. “You just woke up and were already with Piper. All the hard work done for you.”

“You got this man, just be yourself.”

Percy decided to throw that particular bit of garbage advice away.

Now he was sitting in his seat, got there early, and he was even wearing his nice t-shirt, so what could go wrong.

As soon as you walked in the door all of his carefully curated bravado deflated inside of him. You walked towards your shared table and he had to expel childish nerves he hadn’t felt in years. He’s in college now, for Hades’ sake. He was a man.

“Hey,” you greeted as you sat down.

“Hi.” That was stupid. Men don’t say ‘hi’. He should’ve said ‘hey’ back.

“You’re here early,” you commented and Percy just nodded like an idiot.

The plan was to giver you his number as soon as he saw you, but he couldn’t just blurt that out of nowhere.

“How’ve you been?”

There. Establishing a conversation and definitely not stalling.

“I’ve been good.” The small amused smile on your face calmed him down a little. He’s got this.

Class started before he could slip his number in casually but Percy wasn’t deterred. He wasn’t going to let geology get in his way.

While you were reading the data you had to chart on the graph, you noticed Percy’s usual fidgeting get even worse. Glancing at him from the corner of your eye, you saw him concentrating intensely on the paper and trying to contain his frustration. You recognized the signs since one of your friends has dyslexia, but you knew he wouldn’t ask for help.

“So we have to plot the points on the graph and then draw the elevation lines, right?” You asked casually, looking over to him for confirmation. He nodded his head, but still continued to squint at the numbers which all were very small print and close to each other.

Muttering the numbers as if to yourself but loud enough for him to hear, you got to work.

Percy sat back and smiled a little, knowing what you were doing. He looked over at you, from your furrowed brow to your crossed legs bouncing with your tapping foot. With a contented sigh, he recalled what it felt like to be in between those legs. Having them wrapped around his hips while you moaned his name.

His eyes trailed up your body, memories that were attached to each part flooding through him like a highlight reel of his deepest fantasies. Then he got to your bare arms and the goosebumps on the skin shook him out of it.

“Cold?” he asked, interrupting you trying to help him which he really should have been listening to.

“Yeah, a little.”

“Here.” Percy shrugged off his hoodie and held it out to you before pausing (and slightly panicking.)

Hold up, is this weird? Am I being weird right now? Should giving her my hoodie come before or after we exchange numbers? I guess doing it before could be a good test of whether she would be interested in exchanging numbers. But this is couple stuff. Her wearing my hoodie. That usually comes after numbers. But she’s cold now and I can’t seem like an asshole withholding warmth unless she accepts or declines my number.

Luckily, you didn’t seem to notice his panic as you took the hoodie from him without hesitation and put it on. “Thanks.”

He calmed down as he watched you roll up the sleeves so that your hands were free to work and he felt a different kind of warmth spread through him. He liked the way you looked in his hoodie.

You caught him watching you and it threw you off. This wasn’t the heated gaze that had made you melt before, this was... softer. But the moment was ruined when you glanced down and saw that he hadn’t drawn a single point yet.

“Hey,” you tapped your pencil on his paper. “Focus.”

“Sorry.”

You worked well together for a while. The rhythm of plotting points distracted Percy from his nerves. That is until he felt your hand on his forearm.

“What’s this?” You asked, finger tracing the SPQR of his tattoo and making him shiver.

“Oh, it’s a band.”

“What band?”

“The Super Popular... Cool Rockers.”

“They spell Cool with a Q?”

“That’s what makes it cool.”

“Ah.”

Percy went back to the worksheet, congratulating himself on his quick thinking when he saw you pull out your phone.

“What are you doing?” he asked, totally nonchalant.

“Looking up the Super Popular Qool Rockers.”

Percy snatched your phone.

“Oh, you won’t find them.” He dodged your attempts to grab it. “They’re really underground.”

“You’ll be really underground if you don’t give me my phone back.” Percy hastily returned your phone, as if the threat scared him. You tried to glare at him, but found it too hard to suppress your smile once his broke out. “Thank you. Now will you tell me what it really means?”

“Maybe one day.” People started packing their things and leaving since class had flown by faster than Percy liked. Sensing his window of opportunity closing he decided to Hades with it. “Depends if you go on a date with me.”

You took your time standing up and gathering your things while pretending to mull it over in your head. Which Percy really did not appreciate.

“Maybe one day,” you answered him with a coquettish smile and took a few steps towards the door. “Well, aren’t you coming?”

Percy was too concentrated on restraining a fist pump to puzzle out your meaning.

“We didn’t get much work done today, so we better finish what we started at your place.” You winked at him and strided out the door.

With a mischievous grin, Percy was quick to follow.

#percy jackson #percy jackson smut #percy jackson x reader #percy jackson x you #percy jackson x y/n

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prettytoxicrevolver · 4 years ago

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More Than Friends | Jimmy Donaldson

Requested? Nope

Warnings? None?? Maybe??

Summary: You and Jimmy have been friends with benefits to try and get over other people. However, the unexpected happens when you fall for each other.

Word Count: 1,710

You wake up to the sound of your phone ringing, a groan escaping your lips as your eyes flutter open to grab it and lazily slide it open.

“Hello?” you answer groggily.

“(y/n)!” you hear Karl’s voice greet you cheerily and your heart stutters.

“Yes?” you ask still only half awake.

“You know you’re supposed to be shooting a video right now?”

“You know my car broke down and I have no way of getting to the shoot right?” you ask and Karl oh’s at your response.

“I can come to pick you up! We’ll make it a mini adventure!” he says and you nod even though he can’t see you.

“Yes please.”

You drag yourself out of bed, getting dressed in a semi-decent outfit, and wait for Karl to pull up. Your nerves had started to get to you, as you bounce your leg unknowingly, sitting atop your doorstep. You watch as Karl’s Tesla pulls up and you make your way over to it.

“Good morning!” he cheers when you get inside.

You had been half asleep the entire time waiting for him but being in his presence was an instant wake-up. Karl always had that effect on you, giving you more energy than you thought you could possibly have.

“Redbull?” he asks, handing you your favorite drink and you gasp.

“You truly are my favorite person.”

The rest of the drive feels quick, your nerves growing for another reason. You hated being late to shoots and had totally forgotten to text Jimmy that your car broke down last night. You prided yourself in being as professional as possible in any job you took even if you were working with some of your closest friends.

When you get to the shoot, Karl leads you to where the boys are shooting and you instantly hear Jimmy’s voice. You and Karl round the corner and watch quietly as he talks.

Your eyes trail over to Jimmy like they’re trained to find him in any room. His eyes meet yours, still speaking animatedly but keeping his stare even with you. You both break when he turns to look at someone else and you feel the same familiar fire spark through you.

When the bit ends, Jimmy’s eyes are back on you as he makes his way over to you. You falter under his gaze, the same one he always pierces you with. As he nears, you try not to let the same shallow breath paralyze you.

“(y/n),” he calls with a cool air about him.

“Sorry I'm late,” you say and he leans down until he’s next to your ear.

“We’ll talk later darling,” he says and your breath hitches.

Before you can respond, Karl bounces over with a bright smile and an explanation on your behalf that your car had broken down.

“Oh! Do you want me to drive you home?” he asks and Jimmy casts a glance at you.

“Nah I can take her man,” Jimmy says and you half want to roll your eyes at the two men but are also grateful for them helping you.

“Thanks, Jimmy,” you smile up at him but all he does is throw a wink at you when Karl turns away.

You and Jimmy Donaldson, infamously known as Mr Beast, had a complicated relationship. In short, he annoyed the fuck out of you. In long, he was your best friend of over 5 years now. You had met him just as he started Mr beast and you had always helped him as much as possible.

Now, you two had a slightly different friendship. Jimmy had been trying to get over his relationship with Maddy, his ex of 2 years. You were trying to get over Karl, a boy you knew was super close to getting a girlfriend and probably had no interest in you at all.

It happened by accident, you were hanging out, discussing your mutual frustration of trying to get over people you couldn’t seem to get over.

“This sucks,” you concluded.

Your arm was on the back of the couch, head propped into your hand. You gazed at your best friend as he nodded slowly. His hand lands on your knee, his thumb slowly rubbing back and forth against the exposed skin.

His touch sends shockwaves through you and you can’t help but shuffle forward at the contact. Your legs end up on top of his, his hand coming up to run down your arm. He takes his hand in yours, pulling you even closer.

In the silence your heads come together, foreheads touching and your heart pounds hard. His lips ghost over yours, electricity pulling the breath from your lungs and silencing any thought you may have had at the moment. When his lips finally connect to yours, a quiet squeak lets out at the contact, shocking you as fire spreads through you.

His hands trail down from your arms to your waist, moving you back until you fall back on the couch. Your arms circle his neck, pulling him in as close as possible. His legs slot perfectly with yours, a satisfied moan leaving your lips.

You woke up the next morning, forgetting the previous night's events. You tried to get up, and upon feeling a weight on your hips everything floods back to you at once. You turn to see Jimmy next to you, his shirtless chest, rising and falling slowly.

When he woke up, the two of you had decided that you didn’t want to ruin the friendship or the work relationship. However, you loved last night's events and wouldn’t be opposed to repeating them again. You had decided on friends with benefits and eventually worked out all the details.

That was a few months ago, and now you both were still in the same situation. You always went to each other when you needed a distraction, advice, anything. It always helped to have someone there for you.

The shoot goes by pretty fast, your mind somewhere else the entire time. You drifted in your thoughts about Karl, how he was perfect, how fast your heart was going when he gave you a smile, everything about him. Your mind wandered around the thoughts of Karl making you miss the look Jimmy had been giving you.

Jimmy couldn’t stop thinking about you. At first, he claimed that he was trying to get over Maddy. It was true, his heart ached at the mere thought of his recent ex-girlfriend but regardless the more time he spent with you, the more his heart ached for a different reason.

Every longing glance, every shared touch, every last word had him reeling for days. He tried to brush it off, claiming he was calm and collected and all you were to him was a friend with benefits. And yet, you were driving him crazy without even knowing it.

“Ready to go?” Jimmy asks and you turn to look at him.

“Anytime,” you say offering a smile.

You bid goodbye to Karl and head towards Jimmy’s car, the two of you in a comfortable silence all the way to your apartment. When you get to the complex, Jimmy parks and you both cast a glance at each other.

“Want to come in?” you ask.

Jimmy nods and the two of you head into your apartment. You head straight for your room, changing into something comfortable. As you do, you tell Jimmy to relax and watch as he takes a seat in the living room. You come back out, clad in a big t-shirt, and shorts that are hidden.

“Hey,” Jimmy calls and you smile lightly making your way over to him.

He pulls you close by your hand, and your legs slot together. His hand slips from yours and cups the back of your thigh, a mischievous smile gracing his lips.

“Hi,” you whisper, a strange sense of electricity flowing through you.

“Hi,” he reciprocates.

His other hand cups your other leg, effectively pulling you in until you’re straddling his lap. Your hands fall onto his shoulders, trailing up and down his chest and your eyes follow the movement. You avoid his eyes, knowing your heart might stop if you make eye contact.

“(y/n)?” he finally says and you look up.

Your eyes gaze into his stunning green ones, your heart stuttering at the look you share. Neither of you says a word, slowly moving closer until his lips are on yours and you’re numb from how fast your heart is going. The kiss is slow, with no urgency or need behind it, just passion and something else you can’t place.

Before you know it, Jimmy stands and you wrap your legs around his waist instinctively. You break the kiss for a moment as he starts to move, but your lips find each other quickly. You end up in your room, landing on the bed with a soft thud, and Jimmy crawls over you slowly.

Your nerves grow as he moves, this time is different than all the other times. Something in the air charged with tension, electricity, and you’re shaking with anticipation.

The issue with being friends with benefits with your best friend is you might end up falling in love with him. Which you seemed to be doing. You couldn’t help it, every night spent together, every day working together, every phone call, text message, everything was sent straight to your heart and your feelings for Karl were gone in no time and replaced with feelings for Jimmy.

“Jimmy?” you whisper and he stops, looking at you.

You try to get out the words, any form of expressing you wanted something different, and suddenly you’re dumbstruck and no words seem to be escaping.

“I like you,” Jimmy tells you.

“You-” you begin.

“I know I said I was getting over Maddy and I was and now I am but that was because of you and now I fell for you and-”

“Jimmy,” you state and he finally looks at you.

“I like you too.”

He smiles, that amazing and perfectly charming smile, and your heart stops. He leans down pressing a long kiss to your lips with no urgency, simple passion making you fall more for him.

#jimmy donaldson imagine #mr beast imagine #mr beast x reader #mr beast x y/n #jimmy donaldson x reader #jimmy donaldson x y/n #x reader #x y/n #imagine #youtuber imagine

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dollslayer · 4 years ago

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Sweeter Endings

Sugar Daddy!Steve Rogers x Reader

Summary: Still reeling from the financial realities of losing your mother you turn to a lucrative website for help and get more than you could have bargained for.

W/C: 5,325

Warnings: Smut (no minors 18+ only), light D/S dynamics, brief mentions of alcohol consumption, unprotected sex, swearing

A/N: NO MINORS, I wrote this for @donutloverxo 's Sugary 4k Challenge (Congrats!!) I love sugar daddy AUs so I was really excited to write this!! If you like it then please like/reblog/comment I'm all ears! Also maybe check out my other stuff if you want! Cheers!

Main Masterlist

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The saying ‘desperate times call for desperate measures’ was truer than you’d ever imagined and you found out the hard way. Life had hit you hard last year. You had watched your mother succumb very quickly to cancer. A cold that just wouldn’t go away turned into a doctor’s visit turned into three months left to live. Having no one else in her life, the cost of her funeral and medical bills fell to you. The bills outweighing the inheritance you had no choice but to drop out of school.

One year later you were hanging on by threads to keep yourself off the streets without turning to a loan shark or selling yourself. Stocking shelves at a bougie grocery store in Soho by day and bartending in Tribeca by night had you working six days a week. What free time you had you were too exhausted to do anything with. Something had to give or you were going to collapse from the stress, you just didn’t know what.

A couple weeks ago you had been casually venting about how broke you were with a coworker when she jokingly suggested signing up for one of those Sugar Daddy sites. You laughed along with her but it sounded better than getting a third job. You had quietly asked one of your roommates to borrow their laptop saying you needed to look at job postings only half a lie, really and locked yourself in your room.

You were just gonna check out the website, maybe sign up and poke around, it didn’t mean you were committing to anything, just looking. You remembered first looking at the website once your shitty wifi loaded it, promising ‘beautiful and successful people making mutually beneficial connections’. You balked after reading that but you couldn’t look at any profiles without making one yourself so you had set to work.

After making your profile you hadn’t gotten any hits in about a week so you shrugged it off. You couldn’t keep hogging your roommate’s computer anyways so you set off back to work. Your days at the store wore on into endless nights at the bar and you wondered what other options you really had when you had no degree and no experience in any relevant field.

___

6 o’clock on a Thursday night, the typical after work crowd begins to roll in. The bar you work in is upscale, classy. Definitely trying to lure in the businessmen that worked in the area and their wallets. It annoyed you to deal with the same type of customers you did at the store all over again but with the high end crowd came good tips so you couldn't complain too much.

It was busier than usual when a group of men in suits walked in together asking for a booth. You saw a lot of business meetings take place over whiskey sours in this place so you didn’t think much of it. You tried your best to keep tending to your regulars when a pair from the group came over.

One of the men had deep brown eyes and a sly grin that when split gave you the perfect view of the gap between his teeth. He was confident but he had a kind look to him. His friend had dirty blond hair and a beard that clung to his perfect jawline and you’d be lying if you said you hadn’t snuck a second look. You turned your back and continued filling orders to distract yourself when one of them cleared their throat behind you.

As you turned to face them you found it was the blond calling after you. His face held a hint of surprise but it was quickly replaced by a look of amusement as he smirked and one brow lifted, like he knew something you didn’t. He was like any other typical customer for you, professional and handsome, probably over-confident in himself. You returned his smirk and prepared your best charming banter. Time to earn those tips.

“Something to drink for you, gentleman?” You offered.

“We’d like a round of scotch for the table over there. You don’t mind bringing it over, do you sweetheart?” the brown-eyed man asked.

“Of course not” you answered. Pricks.

“Good girl” the blond said with a wink. Creep. A hot creep but still. Before you could ask he took his card out of his wallet and put it on the counter for the tab.

____

A round had come and passed, soon they’d asked for another but this time it was just the blond that approached you. You lifted your eyebrows in anticipation of an order.

“You here often?” he asked. Ugh, not even a good pick up line.

“Am I here at my job often?” You retorted with a playful smile.

The man’s shoulders shook as he chuckled. “Sorry you just uh, you look familiar that’s all. What’s your name?”

You supplied him with it and asked him if he wanted another round of scotch. He nodded.

“Smart girl, I’m Steve by the way.” He laid down his business card which you picked up with a look of challenging curiosity. Steve Rogers, CEO of Shield inc.

Oh. You didn’t recognize the name but you definitely knew the company. It felt like a quarter of their employees stopped in for a drink throughout the week and it was prominent enough of a company that you read about it weekly. Play it cool, these types want to feel like an every-man at the bar but still wanna feel important.

You raised your eyebrows again in recognition. “Nice to meet you, Steve, I’ll have your round right out.”

“Good Girl” he winked again at you. Okay so it’s hot, but he’s a total stranger and you don’t even know him. Stay on your game.

___

10 o’clock came around and things were thinning out slightly, regulars made their way out, awkward Tinder dates and rowdy young 20-somethings made their way in. The party of businessmen was still around but they were hopefully wrapping up after the 2 more rounds they’d had. Steve approached the bar once more and you preemptively picked up the bottle of scotch.

“Whoa, easy, girl! I’m here to pick up the tab” He said, taking out his wallet.

“What’s the name on the tab?” You decided to play dumb but based off the grin on his face he knew you were playing with him.

“Steve. Rogers.” He replied, his tone was stern but his eyes told you he was in on the joke.

You cashed him out and left him to sign his receipt so you could make more drinks. You saw him move in your peripheral and turned your head to see his face.

“Have a good night, sweetheart. I’ll be seein’ ya” he promised.

“Take care!” You smiled back.

A few minutes later you circled back to collect his receipt and found three $100 bills staring back at you. You blinked dumbly in disbelief, who the hell leaves a 200% tip? Looking around to see if Steve was still here he was nowhere to be found. You had no choice but to pocket the money.

____

Another week went by and left you wondering how much energy and concentration it would take for you to just evaporate, since that seemed easier than going to work today. Sadly still in solid form, you punched in at the store and stowed your things in your locker.

Your upscale customer base was a mostly pretentious and successful group of yuppies so even though you were grateful to not be on the streets you were constantly reminded of the professional success you couldn’t help but feel that you were missing out on. Stuck instead to listen to incessant whining ‘is this organic? I won’t eat it unless it’s organic’.

The upside of this job was that the time went by quickly because you always had so much to do. Plus with how monotonous the work was it was easy enough to zone out. So much so that you hadn’t heard someone calling your name and approaching you. A hand softly touching your shoulder snapped you into the present.

You looked up, startled to find a pair of blue eyes staring back into yours. You took a step back and processed who it was. “CEO guy?” Steve?

“‘CEO guy?’ I thought I recognized you, ‘barmaid’ or should I say… ‘stock girl?’” He joked using his fingers to make quotations.

Now that you thought about it, the store isn’t that far at all from the bar, it would make sense if he’s in the area. You smiled and tapped your nametag in response.

“I just came in on my lunch to grab a few groceries” looking down at his basket it held some protein powder, some eggs, and one lonely banana. “Clearly, I’m single. But you’d know that already, wouldn’t you?”

Your brows twinged together in confusion. What is that supposed to mean?

“Excuse me?”

He edged a little closer to you and lowered his voice “SeekingConnection.com?”

Your eyes widened in shock. The fucking Sugar Daddy site! I forgot about that! Surprise was quickly replaced with humiliation. You looked down and away as you felt your cheeks heat up.

“I don’t mean to embarrass you” Steve placated, “But I gotta say, I’m pretty hurt you never responded to me. I sent that message weeks ago and let’s just say I’m not used to rejection.” He kept his tone light, letting you know he wasn’t mad.

“I-I um, I’m sorry, I don’t have a computer and they don’t have an app, I was using my roommates’ computer and I guess I forgot about it…” You admitted.

Steve nodded in acknowledgement. Please say something to salvage this conversation. Please.

“Well,” Steve rummaged in his pocket for another business card. “You got a pen on you?”

You dug around in your apron and came up with one. Handing it to him you watched as he wrote on the back of the card. He held the card and the pen out to you.

“That’s my number, I’d ask for yours but I don’t wanna make you uncomfortable, you already look like you wanna sink through the floor” Not helping, but I do. You took them from him and tucked them away in the pocket of your apron.

“You do have a phone right?” You only glared at him in response. “Well, if you check your profile, you would’ve seen I asked you out to lunch, offer still stands. Just text me when you’re free”

Should I even say yes? I mean, the winking the other night was weird but he’s good looking and at least somewhat considerate. I mean, it’s not like I had any other intention when I signed up for that site. What the hell. right?

“I… usually work mid shifts so I don’t know if lunch is doable, they only give me half an hour but, maybe we could do coffee? I’ve got tomorrow off from the bar I could meet you” you suggested.

If Steve felt pity for you he hid it well behind the wide smile he made when you offered coffee instead.

“There’s a place around the corner from here, just up a block, you know it? I’m off tomorrow at 6, why don’t you meet me there?”

“Sounds like a plan.” He winked at you again and started walking away. What the hell just happened?

____

You did end up borrowing your roommate’s computer once again when you got home to look up Steve’s DM. Sure enough, there he had been in all his internet glory. ‘Steve, 33, CEO. likes: art, conversation, whiskey. Digging around further on his profile you found that he owned several houses here and in Europe, he had a dog that was cuter than he was, and that he was ‘Seeking deeper connection’. All of these things piqued your interest.

‘Hey, Doll. Saw your profile and I had to ask, what’s a girl like you doing in a place like this? Kidding, of course. But maybe you’d care to tell me your story over lunch? Your profile says we’re both in New York. - Steve’ Sent three weeks ago. Fuck.

You had texted him earlier to confirm, which is how you found yourself walking up the sidewalk towards the shop with a mind running rampant with nervous thoughts. What if he just wants to feel big about himself in comparison to me? What would I even really have to offer the relationship? A college dropout working two dead-end jobs with no social life. You needed to snap yourself out of it. You were just meeting for coffee doesn’t mean anything.

Pushing open the door you found Steve waving at you from a quiet corner. He was still in a suit, presumably coming from work himself. Even the buttons on his shirt looked expensive. You were wearing dirty jeans and a worn pair of work boots paired with a flannel. You couldn’t have looked more different if you tried.

“I waited for you to order,” He said. You smiled up at him, only now realizing how tall he was in comparison to you. He ushered you both towards the counter where you both placed your orders. You moved to take your wallet from your purse but he had already beat you there.

“Really? As if I’d let the lady pay, and on the first date no less?” He said playfully.

“Oh, so this is a date now, is it?” You kidded.

Steve shoved his hands in his pockets and gave you that boyish grin and a shrug. The pair of you made your way back to the table and waited for your drinks to be brought over.

“How was work?” You asked, “What exactly is it that your company does?”

“We offer security and surveillance software domestically as well as international. Stadiums, airports, other government buildings. Things of that nature. And work was fine, thank you for asking” Steve said with a genuine smile. “How was your day, doll?”

“Oh, my day was fine, more of the same but y’know,” You answered half-heartedly.

“You know, you never answered me, what’s a funny, pretty gal like you doing on a site like that?”

Embarrassment hit you again, this time maybe accompanied with a hint of shame. You were saved momentarily by your drinks being delivered. He seemed truly interested and since he was paying you supposed you owed him an answer.

“I was going to Columbia and I had a pretty good internship when my mom got diagnosed with cancer. She died three months later and since it was only always just the two of us I ended up footing the bill. I was on partial scholarship but between the hospital and the funeral I can’t really afford the rest of tuition on top of working for free so here I am” you explained, “Oh my god, I’m sorry I’m totally oversharing aren’t I? You probably don’t wanna hear about a bummer like this, sorry”

You tried to laugh to ease the tension you thought you’d created. Braving a look at Steve, he looked thoughtful and only a little bit like he pitied you. You could live with that.

“I’m really sorry about your mom, mine also got really sick before she died, I know it must’ve been hard. What were you in school for?”

___

You and Steve talked for hours, trading anecdotes of childhood and talking about each other’s interests. You had a similar sense in humour so you got on swimmingly. The evening seemed to be coming to a close as the night sky sent in through the window.

Being with Steve was probably the most relaxed you’d felt since before your mom was diagnosed. It became difficult to focus on anything but your financial situation and even though that’s what brought you here in the first place you had managed to forget all about it.

“So look, us getting together wasn’t exactly the most conventional on meet-cutes but to put it bluntly,” He said, “The CEO life makes it hard to meet real people and it gets kinda lonely, I mean, you saw my grocery basket” You both laughed at that. “You need money and I need company, I feel like we could help each other out. Whad’ya say? Think you could put up with me?”

You knew what this was but hearing it put so plainly was a little surprising. At least he was to the point.

“So if I said yes what does that mean, exactly?” you inquired.

“Well,” he started, “We take care of each other. Let me cover some of your bills at the very least, make it so you’d be comfortable quitting at least one of your jobs. And you’d keep me company, we go on dates, maybe you could come over, there’s the occasional work event or charity gala I’d need you on my arm for. Thoughts?”

God I can’t even imagine what it’s like to work only one job anymore. Maybe I could even save up and go back to school. He’s cute and he seems sensible, why not?

“Could we maybe take things slow? What you describe is something I’m down for but I don’t want to make myself completely dependent on you. But I’d love to be there for you, and I have to admit, the thought of only working one full time job is pretty crazy to me” You laughed.

Steve swallowed and placed one of his large, warm hands over yours.

“I can do things the old fashioned way, if that’s what you’d feel good with. I gotta say though, with looks like that it’s not gonna be easy” he jested.

You smiled shyly and looked away. You both stood to leave and he held the door open for you.

“I’ve already got your number from when you texted me earlier but I’ll talk to my assistant about my schedule and maybe I could take you out to dinner this weekend?”

“I um, I’d really like that. It’s a date” You stated.

“Oh, so you think this is a date now?” He jested.

You lightly punched him in the arm and he took the opportunity to pull you closer to him. You looked up to find his face inches from yours. You could smell his aftershave and his deep voice gave you goosebumps when he spoke next.

“I kinda want to kiss you goodnight, would that be okay?”

You could only nod as he shut his eyes and closed in. Your lips met in one perfect, chaste kiss. You sighed and leaned into his hand as it briefly cupped your face.

You broke apart and made promises to see each other soon. You felt like you could’ve floated home as you boarded the subway, caught up in the swarm of newly forming feelings.

_____

You sat in the break room when your phone buzzed to life, ‘Saturday at 7?’

You were about to type out a yes when you forgot you worked closing at the bar. Your thumbs moved quickly to tap out the reply ‘Working, sorry :/ the pitfalls of bartending. Sunday at 7?’

You were nervous telling him no and asking to change plans. You hated not being able to make things work but you only just met the man and the weekend tips were killer, it’s not like you could turn the shift down.

‘Ah yes, almost forgot. Sunday works too, I’ll text you the details. What’s your address? I’ll pick you up’

Oh, God. Steve can’t see my building! His cufflinks probably cost more than my rent!

‘I’ll just meet you there, don’t worry about it’

‘Not a chance, doll. Just tell me where and I’ll come get you’

You let out a worried sigh but knew you had to let it go. You sent him your address and went back to work.

____

Saturday was maybe the longest day in your entire week, in fact you loathed it. Mornings at the store followed by running immediately to the bar. Last call in New York was 4am so it’s a good thing you didn’t try to make brunch plans with Steve for Sunday. But ultimately both your shifts passed without major incident and now it was Sunday and you tried to ready yourself the best you could.

The place Steve mentioned was fancy, you knew that much from a quick search. Panicking instantly upon realizing you don’t really have any nice clothes you turned to your most fashionable roommate for help. She loaned you a cocktail dress that was revealing enough to draw interest without giving everything away. You just hoped Steve would like it.

‘Downstairs, doll. Silver BMW’ you exhaled. Hoo boy, here we go.

____

Steve handed his keys to the valet and rushed around to open your door for you. You held his hand and you clambered onto the sidewalk in your heels. His warm hand on the small of your back as he steered you towards the doors was a comforting weight.

Dinner has been lovely so far, he chose a place that wasn’t completely white-glove but was upscale enough to make you feel only a little underdressed.

You joked back and forth with him over the course of the meal, talked about your lives, and even found out you both have a guilty pleasure for cheesy rom-coms. It wasn’t until dessert and your third glass of wine came that you realized how much time had passed. You frowned slightly thinking of the early morning ahead of you followed by a long night at the bar.

“What’s wrong, doll?”

“Oh, nothing I just didn’t realize how late it was, I’ve got both jobs tomorrow it’ll just be a long day that’s all” you tried to wave it off but Steve frowned in response.

“Quit the bar” he stated.

“What?”

“Quit the bar. This is your card, I’ve already loaded $3000 on there. Put me in touch with your landlord and I’ll get you taken care of.” He slid the card across the table to you. Your name printed on the front. This got real very quickly.

“Steve, that’s.” You were in shock, a loss for words almost “that’s too much, I don’t know what to say.” You felt embarrassed taking the money. You knew that was the essence of your arrangement but actually taking his money had you feeling uneasy.

“Honey, this is what I’m here for. Let me take care of you. Give up your late nights. I wanna take you out on the weekends and you’ll need to be available for events. You can stay at the store if you want but quit the bar, you don’t need it.”

You took a deep sigh. He did say he wanted you to be comfortable quitting one of your jobs; it's just making the change that scares you. But something about Steve felt safe so you nodded and looked up to him.

“I’ll put in my two weeks”

“Good girl” he patted your knee and you involuntarily clenched your thighs. He smirked at that but let it go.

____

A few months had come and gone since that night and your time with Steve had been great. Only working the one job gave you so much more free time. You'd spent a good chunk of it just trying to form a normal sleep schedule but all the time you spent with Steve made it difficult. Not that you minded especially since your allowance was monthly but he’d showered you with gifts here and there.

They started off small, perfume, chocolates and flowers, or a simple pair of white gold hoops that reminded him of you. They gradually became pricier and more elaborate. You’d felt guilty accepting it all at first but he was insistent you deserve the best. He had even mentioned you moving out maybe finding a better place but you reminded him you needed to go slow.

He’d also been nothing short of a gentleman. Out in public at least, you’d learned the hard way that he was an absolute animal in bed. It was becoming increasingly difficult to keep your hands off of him.

Something you had appreciated about Steve is that he never made you feel bad or less than for being broke. Never held his money over your head like leverage. You’d felt equal to him in all aspects, understanding you had just as much say as he did.

Still, there was a small nagging voice in the back of your head that reminded you Steve is not your boyfriend. This isn't a relationship and he's looking to get something out of just like you are. But if you were being honest you were catching feelings, it was hard not to when the man was giving you the fantasy. You decided to push that voice aside whenever it came up and let yourself be swept away. Maybe that would bite you in the ass but for now you were happy.

____

You were buzzed into Steve’s building and on the elevator ride up to his penthouse your phone buzzed. ‘I have to make a quick call- I’ve got a present waiting for you in the living room.’ You couldn’t help but feel giddy.

The doors opened and Steve was nowhere in sight but as you entered the living room a bag from Chanel and the Apple Store sat on the table. Oh god, what this time? I swear this man is too much.

You opened the smaller bag from Chanel first and found a beautiful black and white evening bag. It was sleek and simple, very much to your tastes. You were nervous to open the Apple bag, Steve always went overboard. Shakily removing the paper you pulled out the slim case in disbelief. A MacBook Air and a pair of AirPod Pros. The man well and truly spoiled you.

“You said you didn’t have a computer.” His voice came from behind you and startled you.

“Steve, this is too much. You’re too much.” You swung your arms around his neck and kissed him.

“Nothin’s too much for you, doll.” He kissed the top of your head.

“Think you could take a couple days off of work? I just got off the phone and confirmed plans for my house in Nice.”

A trip? France?? Oh my god. How is this my life? You felt so overwhelmed that you grabbed Steve by the collar and brought his face down to meet you in a kiss. His tongue swiped your lips and you granted him entrance. Moaning into his mouth your hands traveled up into his hair, pulling softly and coaxing a groan out of him.

He guided you to sit on the couch and brought you down into his lap. You ground down onto him and felt his hard-on through his slacks. Your hand moved slowly to undo the buttons of his shirt as he kissed down your jaw towards your neck. You sighed softly when he found your sweet spot and started sucking.

He helped you take off his shirt while you got started on his belt and undid his pants. He lifted himself off the couch slightly to move them down to his knees, taking his briefs with them. His cock stood proud and an angry red, leaking at the tip.

“I wanna ride you, I can’t wait.” You pouted as you writhed against him in need.

Steve tutted at you “that’s no way to get what you want. Ask me nicely, baby. Beg to ride my cock,”

You ground down even harder and whined. “Please, sir, please let me ride your cock. I need to feel you, I can’t wait any longer please.”

“Good Girl” Steve's hands flipped up your skirt and found your panties, ripping them to shreds. They were La Perla and had cost a pretty penny but he didn’t care.

He lined himself up and brought you down harshly gripping your hips. You moaned loudly in surprise and satisfaction and wasted no time moving back and forth. Steve made you feel so close and connected to him whenever he fucked you but he still made you feel sordid and dirty. You couldn’t get enough of the feeling, you’d gladly chase it.

His eyes were hooded as watched you chase your own pleasure and giving him some in return. His hands kneaded your ass and smacked it just to get a gasp out of you. He grabbed the back of your head and brought you in for a searing kiss that was all teeth and tongue. He’d nip at you and lick the pain away.

His hips met yours, finding your rhythm and speeding you both up when he gripped your hips.

“Can’t wait to have me, you had to fuck me on the couch huh?” Steve panted, “my dirty girl. So fuckin’ gorgeous.”

You put your forehead against his and went harder, pushing your clit to grind against the muscles of his abs.

“Only yours, sir.” Your orgasm was building. Steve was a pretty relaxed dom but you still needed permission.

“Sir, please let me cum I can’t wait any longer” you tried your best to slow your movements a bit.

“I think you can hold it baby, I wanna enjoy you a little longer”.

You could only whine in response and tried to slow your pace but his grip on your hips and his own movements pushed you further and further towards the edge. You tried to squirm out of his grasp but his hands only tightened. It felt like forever until Steve finally gave you permission.

“Go on baby, cum for me you earned it. Fuck your self on my cock and cum all over me”

Your movements were frantic, desperate to chase your orgasm when finally the perfect angle of his cock inside you and your clit against him set you free. You cried out above him and dug your nails in deep.

Steve held you firmly in place and started slamming into you from below, finally letting himself think about cumming. All you could do was hold on for mercy. Moments later he brought you down onto him one final slam as he came inside of you with a cry.

The only sound in the room was both of you trying to catch your breath. You sighed again and collapsed against him, nuzzling your face into his neck. He kissed the side of your face and let you make yourself at home while he caressed your back.

____

One shower and two more orgasms later you were both clean and made your way to the kitchen. Steve was gathering the ingredients for dinner when you hugged him from behind. Your head resting against his back. Steve twisted around and hugged you in full. You both stayed like that for a moment until you looked up at him.

You were so content. Moments like this where you were just domestic were some of the best between you. It wasn’t about money or material, it was just the two of you making dinner and enjoying each other, no barriers.

“Are you really going to take me to France?” Your voice came out muffled against his chest.

“Of course, doll. After dinner I want you to use your new laptop to buy some outfits for the trip. I left my card in your new purse.”

You lifted onto your tiptoes and kissed his nose.

“You really do think of everything, don’t you?”

“What can I say? I’m a planner” he retorted.

You didn’t know it yet but Steve was going to ask you to become official while you were there. He wasn’t worried in the slightest. In fact he’d never been so sure about something in his life.

#sugary4kchallenge #steve rogers x reader #sugar daddy!Steve rogers x reader #sugar daddy!steve rogers #sugar daddy au #marvel au #marvel fic #marvel x reader #fluff #smut

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imabeautifulbutterfly · 2 years ago

Text

Upside Down - Ch. 29

Summary: Nerex get closer; Wolffe receives a surprise; A truth comes to light

A/N: Hello Lovelies,

Ohhhh things are getting really good for Nerex, that’s all I’ll say. This chapter just made me all kinds of happy.

Anyhew ... I will be taking a short two week break, now season 2 is actually going to be longer than season 1, so there will be plenty of chapters coming up, it’s just I’m going on vacay and will be out of touch. So enjoy yourselves, and stay strong. I felt you all deserved a nice chapter to end on for now.

Love oo.

Italics - flashback

Warnings: Anger, mentions of marriage, arguing, mentions of coitus (implied), kissing, flirting, fear, mentions of decommissioning and reconditioning, declarations of feelings, guilt, bomb threat (implied), apologies, implied nakedness, mentions of midichlorian, mentions of prophecy, if I miss any please let me know.

AO3 Link | Words: 5,688 | Previous - - - > Next

Upside Down Master List | Main Master List

TRUTH

“So this is your place?” Rex looked around the apartment, Nerium was exhausted from all the test the Jedis made her run, she was walking slowly and with careful steps. While he watched her move through the room, he kept hearing Plo’s voice over and over in his head ‘Don’t let her go.’

“Yeah it’s not much but it’s home, I guess” I shrugged, “truthfully I spent a total of a month here before I shipped out on the 501st, and now I only spend time here when we’re on leave, mostly when I need some quiet time.”

“For not being here, everything seems very clean” he couldn’t help but notice there was barely a speck of dust, much less the smell of rotting food. He opened the conservator and noticed there was more than enough food, and fresh food at that.

“That’s because I hired someone to take care of the place when I’m away. I just let them know when I’m coming back, then they come in clean everything up and replace what needs replacing” I motioned towards the conservator, “any food I don’t eat when I leave, gets either eaten by them or gets sent to one of the refugee shelters or orphanages.”

“That’s kind of you”

“It’s what should be done and frankly, it’s a lame excuse of trying to supplement my own conscience.”

“You have nothing to feel guilty about”

“Yes, I do” I leaned against the kitchen cabinets letting out an exhausted sigh, as Rex pulled out a beer for the both of us. He stood on the opposite side of the kitchen, handing me one can, as he opened his, leaning against the stove.

“Talk to me, cyar’ika”

I turned the can in my hand, before placing it down beside me, “Rex, if I had said something sooner, if I had met with the council, those kids … that Jedi Master would still be alive first of all. Those kids would never had to experience something so horrible. I …” It felt as though the weight of the universe came crashing down on my shoulders, I could feel tears beginning to prick my eyes.

“Hey” Rex closed the distance between them, placing the can on the counter beside her, as he tilted her head to look at him, “none of what happened was your fault, not Ropal’s death, not the kidnappings, none of it. That’s all on that Sith Lord. Not you.”

“Yeah, but …”

“No buts, cyar’ika. You are still trying to figure out what exactly is going on with you. Don’t forget you tried to call for help. You called out into the force so strongly, Anakin came running to your room; Plo’buir was so concerned he asked to see your dreams. You did what you could’ve; you did your best. It is not your fault.”

I wanted to agree, but the guilt was too strong, tears began to well up in my eyes, when I thought back to Denal, “What about Denal, that’s not my fault either?” I felt tears began to slide down my cheeks, as I thought about the loss of another friend.

“Cyare” Rex pulled her into his arms, “no, it’s not. Not yours, or mine. Not even Anakin’s. We were all fooled, and we were all reeling from the loss of our men. Our brothers. Unfortunately, cyare, this is war, and we will lose more men before it’s over. More brothers. More friends.” Rex tightened his arms around her, as he realized he could lose her too.

I buried myself into his chest, wrapping my arms around him, as I pulled him in tighter.

“Cyare, there’s something I’ve been thinking about and …” he rested his cheek against her forehead, “maybe it’s a crazy idea, but what if we don’t wait.”

“For?”

“Our wedding”

I pulled back to look at Rex, “What?”

A smile appeared on his lips, “I was informed while you were doing your tests, you are a very special person Neri” his hands cupped her cheeks, as his fingers played with her hair, “and I was specifically told ’to cherish you and protect you with everything I have,’ and more specifically ‘to not let you go for anything.’ I know I want this, cyar’ika. I know we talked about waiting till the end of the war, but honestly with everything that’s been going on, might be going on, I don’t want to wait; but I won’t push it either, if you’re not ready, if this is too much …”

I didn’t let him finish talking, crashing my lips against his, “Yes” I mumbled in between our kiss.

“Yes?”

“Yes, I’ll marry you. Whenever and wherever.”

“How about right now, right here”

“How?”

“Mandalorian ceremony, after all I was trained by Mandalorian trainers, what do you say?” Rex had the biggest grin on his face, he wanted her to say yes, but it would’ve been a big step for her too. In reality, it would be a big step for the both of them.

“What about the GAR?”

“Screw the GAR”

“Rex” I let out a sigh of annoyance, he was rushing headfirst into this, his emotions were high right now, but my Rex was all about duty, “be serious, this isn’t you. You’re not one to say ’Screw the GAR’ that’s Fives talking. I want to marry you, but if we do this rushed or without thinking, it might cause bigger problems in the long run. I don’t want to give them an excuse for you to be decommissioned or reconditioned for any reason.”

“They won’t”

“Rex” my voice was stern, “I don’t want to lose you that way. If the GAR found out about it, it would be as though I am the one who pulled the trigger, I couldn’t live with that. I want us. I want to be your wife, and I want you to be my husband…”

“Just not enough”

“No, that’s not what I’m saying. I’m saying prove to me or show me we … no, you won’t get taken away from me because some jackass found out you had the audacity to fall in love and make me the happiest person in the universe. Prove that and I will marry you in an instant, in the middle of a battlefield, in space, on the hangar deck of the 501st or 104th, or on our way to a planet in a transport ship. Tell me you won’t get taken from me, because of me, and I will marry you, right here and right now. Can you do that?”

Rex felt like his whole world lifted to the highest peeks of possibility, only to come crashing down with reality. She was right he couldn’t guarantee he wouldn’t be taken from her. He pulled away, leaning himself against the stove on the other side of the room, as he stood there, he examined her face, there was fear there, not just fear but apprehension. He realized at that moment, there would always be a reason in her mind not to do it. Not to commit.

“You don’t want to commit” he let out resignedly.

“No. That’s not true.” I know I shouldn’t but I was getting annoyed with him, he said he didn’t want to push the issue, yet here he was pushing.

“Neri, if we were to do a Mandalorian ceremony right here, right now, no one except the two of us would know. So if you don’t say anything and I don’t say anything how would the GAR find out? Just admit the fact that as much as you may like the idea of being married to me, you truly don’t want to commit to me.”

“Rex, you are putting words in my mouth; I’m talking about what would happen if it slipped out. I mean we could be under surveillance right now. Hell! They could have this place bugged for all I know.”

“No. You’re afraid”

“Of course, I am! I love you! Do you think I want to see you carted off somewhere! Never to be seen or heard from again? Or to know you wouldn’t remember me even if you came back to the 501st?” Tears began pricking my eyes again, as I looked at the hurt on his face, “Rex, you have to know I love you.”

“Just not enough”

“To risk your life? Who you are as an individual?”

“I’m not risking my life!”

“How can you say that? Look what happened because of Sat! We had to cut off all communications on the off-chance the GAR could possibly find out about us dating. I mean, we haven’t even slept together”

“Well it’s not like I haven’t wanted to!” My mouth gaped open, as I watched his eyes relax realizing what he just said, “Neri that’s not …” I stood from my spot, pushing away gently, wiping my tears as I went over to the window looking at the city bustling before us. I was scared not just of losing him to the GAR but also to this war. “Neri, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean …”

“Do you know why I want to wait?”

“It’s your first time and you feel unsure of yourself”

“No.” I kept my eyes focused on the city, swallowing down my nerves, “It’s because I’m scared, Rex.”

“Scared of what?” Rex closed the distance between them, hoping to fix what he broke with his statement.

“Scared of what it will mean, scared of connecting with you in such an intimate way only to lose you either because the GAR took you from me, or because the war took you. I’m scared of becoming pregnant, scared of becoming the mother I had. I …” I took in a deep breath, “Rex, this won’t be my first time.”

“But you said…”

“Actually,” I turned to face him wiping the tears, “I said it would be the first time with someone I love.”

“What does that mean?” Rex stepped closer to her, “Neri, did someone hurt you?”

I shook my head, “No. No one forced me if that’s what you’re thinking. No, I just … I did it because I thought it was what was expected of me, after dating him for as long as I had. He kept pestering me, and so I gave in. It … it hurt, and it didn’t feel right, it wasn’t how I imagined it should’ve been or how people made it out to be. Afterwards, I had a pregnancy scare, thankfully it turned out to be false; but that feeling of responsibility scared me to my core.”

“Do you think I’d hurt you?”

“No” I stepped closer to Rex, resting my hands on his chest, “I know you’d never hurt me, I just don’t have a good memory of it; I’m scared of what would happen if we got pregnant. Especially, with whatever is going on with me. A clone baby and a whatever I am, don’t you think the Sith would be quick to take that chance - I mean they already tried to kidnap those kids, and if it wasn’t for Anakin and Ahsoka …”

“Neri, I’m not pushing us to take the next step. Do I want to? Yes. Absolutely. I’m not going to lie about that; however, is that the only reason I’m with you? No. I love you. Not because you’re willing to sleep with me, but because you are an intelligent, kind, fierce, courageous, beautiful woman, and I thank the Force, the Maker, and anyone and everyone in between that I have you in my life. Because when I am with you, you make me feel complete.

When I hold you, I know regardless of what happens with this war, I will feel at peace and confident. You give me strength I didn’t know I could possess. I want you to be my wife, because without you by my side, my life has no meaning. You give me meaning, Neri.

I’m sorry for what I said earlier, I know you’re scared of losing me, I know you’re concerned about the GAR, about what would happen after we get the results from the test, but none of that will change how I feel about you, how I’ve always felt about you since the moment I met you. I know…” Rex reached up cupping her cheek, “I knew the moment you walked into the sparring room, the moment you looked into my eyes and asked what was wrong, you were the one for me. I love you. Your insecurities, the weird force nonsense, the Sith nonsense, and whatever other weirdness could possibly come our way, won’t scare me off. I’m here and I’ll protect you and our children, if we have any. You’re my family, Nerium. I won’t let anyone hurt you, even me.

Whether we decide to get married today, tomorrow, or in the future, it doesn’t matter to me. I was hurt and was focused on how I was feeling; I’m sorry for making you feel pressured, I’m willing to wait for as long as you need. If you need a plan in place with regards to the GAR, or if you need to an assurance of some sort, I will do my best to provide that. I just know I want to be with you, however you will let me.”

I didn’t wait and crashed my lips against his, “Neri” Rex mumbled, “wait…” he pushed me back, “don’t just kiss me thinking that’s going to solve everything. Talk to me. Tell me what’s going on in your head, it’s the only way I’m going to be able to do my best for you.”

“I’m sorry” the tears that I had been trying to hold back came bursting out at that moment, it took me a few minutes, before I was able to answer him, he simply held me until I was ready to talk, “I’m sorry, Rex. I’m sorry for doubting you. I’m sorry for pushing you away, or trying to push you away. I’m scared Rex. I’m so scared, because I don’t know what’s going to happen. Not just with the tests the Jedis did, but with the future. I’m scared of losing you.”

“I know, love. I know. I’m scared of losing you too, I’m scared about what we’re going to find out. So tell me what do you want to do? Right here, right now, what do you need?”

I took in a deep breath, “You. I want you. I want to do the Mandalorian ceremony. I want to be your wife, and I want our first time to together to be as husband and wife. I don’t want to wait anymore. I would rather have a moment of happiness with you, than a life time of feeling scared and regretting not taking this journey with you.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, as sure as I have a thought. I am ready for this”

“Then repeat after me, Mhi solus tome”

“Mhi solus tome” (We are one when together)

“Mhi solus dar'tome”

“Mhi solus dar'tome” (We are one when parted)

“Mhi me'dinui an”

“Mhi me'dinui an” (We will share all)

“Mhi ba'juri verde”

“Mhi ba'juri verde” (We will raise warriors) I reached up placing my lips on his, taking each moment to feel him against me.

“Are you sure you’re ready?” Rex mumbled against my lips, he pulled back as he looked at me, taking in every feature of my face, making sure I was ready, “Just because we got married today, doesn’t mean we have to do anything more.”

“I know and I appreciate it, but I’m ready” his hands shifted from cheek and waist, and moved further down to my thighs, picking me up in one motion.

“In that case” he smirked, “which way to the bedroom?” I pointed to the door down the corridor, he nodded before he crashed his lips on mine again. I closed my eyes, trusting my husband completely as he carried me towards our room.

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

Wolffe was busy reviewing the next mission they were being assigned to, when the door chimed. “Come in” he muttered without looking up. After the incident in the mechanic’s wing he had buried himself in his work, pushing away the image of Mafs eyes filled with anger and the way she screamed at him. Ugh! She was just a civvie why did he care what she had to say.

“Commander” Boost called out as he walked in, pulling Wolffe from his thoughts, he left a package for him on the chair in front of his desk, “delivery for you, Wolffe. Guess you were expecting this.”

“Delivery? I wasn’t expecting anything” Wolffe looked up from his datapad to the package in front of him, “Does it say from who?”

“Nothing on the outside, to indicate who the sender was, a delivery droid brought it to the hangar. It simply stated to deliver it to you.”

Wolffe pushed back his chair, he’d read reports of packages being delivered by Separatist friendlies, “Sound the alarm, get the bomb unit down here. Now!”

“Sir, yes sir!”

Wolffe along with the rest of the 104th waited on the docking platform, the minutes ticking by felt the slowest he ever had experienced. Slower than when they were waiting to be rescued while trapped in that escape pod floating past all their dead vode and crushed open pods.

He watched as the bomb unit came out, their Sergeant coming to talk to him as the rest headed off, it appeared as though they were chuckling to themselves “Talk to me, Sergeant Det”

He cleared his throat before answering, “Sir, there is no bomb.”

“No bomb?”

“No sir, we’ve swept the package, checked the entire ship, bow to stern, nothing. I think someone just wanted to deliver something special to you sir” Det’s face felt flushed as he looked anywhere but at his Commander; he didn’t mean to read the letter, but he had to make sure - - for safety. Yeah. Safety.

“Someone sent me something?”

“Yes sir” Det held out the letter written on flimsi, “Sorry, sir, had to open it and read it to make sure there was nothing … incendiary.”

“Understood” Wolffe snatched the letter, turning to the rest of the 104th, “ALRIGHT ALL CLEAR! EVERYONE BACK ON BOARD!”

“SIR, YES SIR!” All shouted in one voice.

Wolffe turned to Det, “Thank you Det. Tell me …” he looked from his younger vod to the letter in his hand, “Do I need to …”

“Anything I’ve read, I’ve already forgotten sir! I’ll make sure the men forget just as quickly.”

“Good. Carry on then.” He put the letter in his pocket, heading back towards his office. He sat down pulling out the letter, as his eyes took in the opened package, its contents still inside. He debated what he should do, open the package or read the letter first. He stood, his hand hovering over the lid of the container.

He took in a deep breath and pushed the button to open the container, there resting on top of the packaging foam to keep the contents in one piece lay his jet pack. The one he had left on Mafs desk. He pulled it out, it looked brand new, even the paint on it was refreshed. He placed it gently on his desk.

He sat down picking up the letter, it took him three times reading it to truly understand what was said,

‘Commander Wolffe,

I wanted to apologize to you for how I acted that day; yet when I came out of the F.R.R. you were gone. Jesse and Hardcase told me you wanted me to just chuck the jet pack. Yet, it didn’t sit right with me.

I’m not used to having someone stand up for me, or to put themselves in harm’s way. Especially, not since I lost my husband. My reaction was not because I didn’t appreciate what you did, rather it was because I was feeling embarrassed. I didn’t want to appear weak or unable to take care of myself, especially after our first meeting at 79’s.

Please accept this jet pack as my apology, it’s completely fixed and refreshed. If there was ever a way to jump the line, I think you found it.

Thank you for stepping in.

Your friend,

Mafs’

Wolffe read it one more time. She apologized? How very un-civvie of her. His hand traced over the jet pack, examining the details of the paint job, his hand brushed over an addition he hadn’t seen before, a tiny wolf symbol on the bottom right corner of the jet pack, etched into the durasteel. It was the same symbol on his helmet, he huffed a chuckle at the detail.

His office door chimed, he put the flimsy back in his pocket and the jet pack back in the container, opening the door to see Plo’buir.

“Commander”

“Plo’buir, everything okay?”

“You tell me Commander, care to explain what happened? I come back and everyone is talking about a bomb scare?”

“Oh, I was delivered something,” Wolffe motioned to the container on the chair, “it came from an unknown person and out of precaution I sounded the alarm.”

Plo rested his hand on Wolffe’s shoulder, “Very wise of you, son. I’m proud. Relieved also to hear it was a false alarm.”

“Me too”

Plo leaned around him to look into the container, “Care to tell me what it is?”

“Oh” Wolffe rubbed the back of his neck, “my jet pack, I didn’t think it was possible for it to be fixed, but the mechanic was able to repair it better than new. I wasn’t expecting it.” He pressed the button on his vambrace as the jet pack lifted into the air, before he lowered it back down with another press of his button.

“Interesting” Plo trailed his claws over his tusks, as he moved closer, picking up the jet pack in his hand turning it slowly and with reverence, “it appears better than new, who was the mechanic?”

“Designation JASP93”

Plo turned to look at his son, “Tell me about this mechanic”

“Not much to tell Plo’buir”

“I doubt that”

“Plo’buir?”

“If as you say there is no indication as to who delivered this, how do you know it was this person you mentioned?”

“Oh … um … I assumed since that’s who I left the jet pack with”

Plo placed the jet pack back in the container with care, as he turned to face Wolffe, “Commander, you and I both know you never assume anything.”

“There was a letter”

“Ahhh, I see” Plo left it at that, he was surprised he got as much information as he did from his Commander, “I’m glad to see you have your jet pack back, son. However, there is another matter we must discuss”

Wolffe’s hand rested against the letter in his pocket, it felt as though it was burning a hole through his bodysuit. He wanted to send a response, to tell her he appreciated the effort she put in to fixing his jet pack and as quickly as she did, however whatever Plo’buir had to discuss was more important then sending a response back, at least for the moment.

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

The beeping from Nerium’s comm link, woke her and Rex from their sleep.

“Nerium” I tried my best to sound awake, but the warmth from Rex was lulling me back to sleep.

“Little Neri, can you meet me later on today?”

“Yes, Plo’buir. Is everything okay?”

“We have your results back, and before we meet with the Jedi Council to discuss it, I believe it would be prudent to discuss this with our own group first.”

“Understood, Plo’buir. What time?”

“Let’s say 1400 hours, I’ll data stream the location to you”

“I’ll be there”

“Don’t forget to inform your Captain, little Neri”

“I won’t” I smirked as I turned off my comm.

Rex tightened his arm around me, pulling me into him, it felt oddly comforting feeling his bare chest against my bare back, “So…” he mumbled, “I take it we don’t have to go anywhere until later on in the day”

“Mmhmm”

“In that case, I suggest we enjoy the morning together, riduur”

“I agree, riduur” I turned to face him, my hand resting against his cheek, “you look quite handsome, my husband”

“Not as beautiful as you” Rex nudged his nose against mine, placing a kiss on my lips, “How are you feeling?”

“Good, sore, but I’m not complaining” my face flushed at our conversation, and his chuckle.

“I’m glad to hear” he placed another kiss on my lips, this one lasting a tad longer as he deepened the kiss, “Neri” his lips trailed against my jaw, before he pulled away hovering above me, “always feel you can tell me the truth okay. I don’t want to hurt you or make you feel uncomfortable.”

“I know riduur” I placed a kiss on his cheek, “I feel comfortable, being with you is completely different from before, and it’s because it’s you, love.”

“I love you, Neri”

“I love you”

“Did I ever tell you what ner means in Mando’a?”

“No. I didn’t know there was a meaning”

“There is, it means my or mine. Ner riduur.”

I chuckled, “Well ner riduur…”

“Hmmm”

I wrapped my arms around his shoulders pulling him in closer, “Are you going to talk all morning?”

“Oh definitely not” he leaned down deepening our kiss as his hand trailed down my side.

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

“Let me get this straight” I asked rubbing my forehead, from the amount of information being thrown at me, “you’re saying my midichlorian count - the thing that makes you a Jedi?”

“It makes you force sensitive to be correct” Anakin corrected

“Whatever, it’s at 20 …”

“27,000” Obi-wan clarified, as he reviewed the datapad with the test results.

“What is the significance of the number?” Rex asked, his nerves were increasingly becoming fraught as the meeting progressed.

“Her midichlorian count is as high as Anakin’s” Obi-wan looked from Nerium to his young padawan back to her.

“Okay, so she has a high count, so what?” Wolffe was growing in irritation, not simply because of this clandestine meeting, but also because he hadn’t had a chance to respond to the letter yet, and now it felt like a stone weighing in his pocket.

“There is a prophecy among the Jedi, of one who will bring balance to the force. We always assumed it referred to one being, but what if it actually was in reference to two.”

“Hold up” I called out, Cody simply smirked as everyone looked shocked at my command, “you telling me, I’m part of some sort of prophecy?”

“Why not?” Plo offered

“Anyone here actually considered the fact that maybe I don’t want to be a Jedi or part of some religious prophecy” I let out with a sigh, “Plo’buir, I highly respect you, all of you” I took a turn looking at Obi-wan and Anakin, “and your beliefs, but I’m sorry, I don’t want to live my life without attachment.” I looked from them to Rex, holding his hand as I stepped closer to him, “I can’t.” Rex squeezed my hand, pulling me in closer.

“That is your choice, little Neri, however prophecy does not care how you expected to live your life.”

“Which we will respect, but maybe take some time to consider the ramifications behind your decision” Obi-wan clarified as he stepped closer. “You and Anakin maybe the answers we need to end the Sith, to end this war.”

“You believe balance comes from ending the Sith?” I asked turning to look at Obi-wan.

“Of course”

“I think you’re wrong” the room fell silent at my statement, Rex’s hand shifted towards my arm, a warning for him to be cautious. It had been something we discussed at length that morning over our late breakfast.

“What are you trying to say, vod’ika?” Wolffe needed clarification, his hand rested against his hip, but it was inching closer towards his blasters. As much as he respected her, if she choose to join the Sith he wouldn’t hesitate to protect his brothers and his father.

“Don’t get me wrong, I believe as you do the Sith are vile and evil, however, destroying them, wiping them off the face of the universe has that ever worked before? I mean … Obi-wan you said that the Sith are a Jedi’s speciality, correct?”

“Yes”

“And Plo’buir, you’ve stated there have been wars in the past between the Sith and the Jedi, correct? Wars that have led to the deaths of thousands, millions.”

“Yes, little Neri”

“Then how is wiping them out the answer, would it not simply bring them back ten-fold? Would it not be wiser to help them to see reason, to teach them the ways of the Sith are not the only way to live?”

“You cannot change someone’s destiny” another voice answered, Obi-wan and Plo turned to look at the intruder, Rex pushed me behind him as his hands rested on his blaster.

“Quilan Vos, this is a private meeting” Obi-wan answered.

“Indeed. I can see.” He came and stood in front of Rex and myself, bowing to us, “It is a pleasure to see you again, Medic Nerium.”

“We’ve met before?” I clarified standing out from behind Rex

“Hmmm, not so much met as I’ve been keeping tabs on you”

“Why?” Plo asked the Jedi who had earned the reputation of being a maverick, similar to his old Master.

“Keeping a promise for my old Master. A promise between friends. Master Koon” he bowed towards the older Jedi, he may like to do things his own way, but Quinlan was at least respectful to those he actually respected.

“Promise, what promise?” Obi-wan questioned.

“How’s it going my friend?” Quinlan placed his hand on Obi’s shoulders giving it a light squeeze, “The war has not been kind to you friend”

“Nor you”

“Please, I look as handsome as ever” he let out laughing uproariously.

“That all sounds well and good, General Vos” Cody interjected as he stepped closer to his General, “but that doesn’t answer how you found us, or how you know Nerium”

“Oh didn’t I explain?” He looked around, as a smirk appeared on his lips.

“No. You didn’t” Wolffe growled

“Simple really, I found you because - well - that’s my job, I’m good at finding things. Secondly, I know about Nerium, because everyone knows about Nerium. The medic who has a target on her back; did you really think you were going to be able to keep that a secret Obi?”

“Don’t call me that”

“Right, that’s reserved for someone special” he muttered, his voice quite enough so only Obi-wan could hear him.

“Anyone have any objection to me smacking this man?” I offered

“None here” Rex responded.

“Nope” Wolffe chuckled

“Before we resort to violence” Plo began hoping to calm down the anger he started to feel building among the troopers and little Neri, “let’s give him a chance to explain himself.”

“I’m simply here to offer my services”

“Your services?” I quirked my eyebrow at him.

“Exactly what sort of services are those” Rex clarified, he wasn’t about to let this man near his wife. Rex’s thoughts stilled at that, his wife. She was his wife. He felt his face begin to flush at that.

“Relax lover boy” Quinlan tapped against Rex’s cuirass, “not those kinds of services, although …” Wolffe took a step closer to him, he held up his hand, “I’m joking. My services of training you, Nerium; I promised my Master a long time ago, when you realized your potential, I would train you.”

“Excuse me? Train me to do what?”

“To become a Jedi, to fulfill your part of the prophecy, to tell you the truth about who you are”

“Why should I believe you?”

“Because” Quinlan smile stretched across his face, “I gave them an oath. My Master Tholme and Master Sifo-Dyas, I promised them, I would tell you the truth when you become aware. I would tell you everything.”

My heart stopped. Sifo-Dyas. That was the name from my dream

“Thank you, Sifo-Dyas”

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