#at least his stomach looks semi-accurate.

[mechazushi]

More Monster than Man, More Metal than Monster. Parts and parts and parts of a whole, but still can't give less than his all.

So I was kind of joking about Kafka not being able to keep his legs, but that thought sort of spiraled into.... this.

(Look, I've made it clear drawing is not my foremost best talent, but Kaiju Number 8 is forcing my hand.)

So the idea is coming from a few places, namely, you guessed it, Chapter 117. (The grip it has on me, the grip I tell you! King Arthur couldn't pull it out of my mind even if he tried.)

With the recent chapters implying that Kafka needs to have a deeper connection with his inner Kaiju before he can defeat anything as well as there is something preventing some part of his hand from reverting back to normal, I've been enamored with the idea of more parts of Kafka succumbing to the Kaiju within and just have more and more of him turn into a tamer version of his base form. And then we get hit with what might just be the fourth time we see Kafka's legs get fucked up (Kaiju stepped on it when he was in the Sweepers, twice with Isao [once in dream sequence, the other during the fight] and now. Please let me know if there are others that I've forgotten.) And now I'm just like ". . .Well at this point, just replace the damn things.", which is so far up my alley, it's practically starring in the concert hall. Soooo... yeah. Kafka, stuck halfway through a transformation and now has his legs replaced.

I didn't mean to give him "Wattpad Body Guard Novel Cover" Energy with the hat and face mask, but I like to think he would start to wear something like that if his face did get stuck in the way it looks like in some of his cover art. I doubled down on the whole "He can't keep his legs on his person" by making it part of the AU that there's several steps needed to be done before he can take his legs off. There's a metal latch, a rotating locking pin, and f*cking fingerprint recognition on the inside of the leg. Part of me wanted to draw steam shooting out of it, and I might if I ever feel like drawing more of him like this. The leg itself is supposed to look like it's made out of Black Diamond Plate, a blue aerogel section around the knee section, and glowing panels. (The scientists that made the leg added that on as surprise.)

I think the reason I like this idea so much is because it plays into a specific characterization of Kafka that isn't really played upon much. (To be fair, it might not be obvious at first and you might have to dig for evidence for it.) People like to portray him as just a happy guy, no matter the circumstances. Others like to play up his potential depression. I like to view him as a man who can't stop sacrificing. By God, he spent every year that he could trying to get into the Defense Force, and by God he's going to make his last chance count. You could say "Even if it kills him", but it's not. It's not going to kill him: he's not going to die. If he dies, then that means that someone would have to take his place. And that scares him more than dying. He's going to wander around the Defense bases as a husk of what he once was, his fuel being an ever constant need to make sure no one else has to feel the same levels of fear everyone he loved once felt. Even if it means he becomes a fractured memory of an innocent man.

@narumi-gimmick-blog Because I really liked your comment on the last post I made. He will never lose that challenge again. 🤣

@sonicasura Idk, you seem to like AU shit, so here. I guess this is thanks for tagging me in some of your Crossover AU takes?

[mockerycrow]

THE DAY WE MET (Roommate!Gaz x GN!Reader)

roommate!gaz masterlist — gaz pic origin here

reminder that requests aren’t open, but roommate!gaz thoughts are always welcome! — 1.2k words

a/n; this is a bit short!! we don’t know gaz’s exact age, but this is meant to be around 2005-2007. sorry to all of the playstation loyalists, me too bestie but i gotta be semi-accurate /hj — if you guys can’t tell, reader is implied to be the same age as gaz, so i might make references that aren’t entirely relatable, i apologize! — kofi

YOU AND KYLE FIRST met when you were teenagers. You were both fifteen years old. You met him during a summer camp; Kyle was always a charismatic person, even at fifteen years old. It’s how you two became fast friends in the first place. You had been dropped off in this wooded area, a couple of cabins lined up next to each other, your suitcase tucked against your legs and your backpack hanging onto your shoulders. Nervousness fluttered like unpleasant butterflies inside of your stomach as you watched adults, teenagers, and young children scurry about the campgrounds alike. The air smelled and felt damp; a bit cold as it was still early morning, despite the amount of people who seemingly had way too much energy for nearly six-thirty in the morning.

He was the first person to approach you—a side smile on his face as he felt your nervous energy. Kyle had already been there for several days by that point, he watched people pour into camp and he had made a few friends, but when he saw you? Standing off to the side, clearly overwhelmed and nervous, your fingers twitching against the handle of your suitcase? That was the first moment he knew he had to be your friend. Kyle didn’t mind if the friendship only lasted the duration of the summer, that’s a normal thing that happens. He’s been going to summer camp every other summer since he was nine years old, so there’s no doubt he made “just summer” friends.

Kyle walked up to you with his half smile, a confident stride, and he put his hand out to you, causing you to flinch ever so slightly, eyebrows raising in surprise at his ability to just.. Walk up to you and offer his hand. “Name’s Kyle,” He says, his voice not as deep as you know it is today due to age and due to puberty, of course. “What’s yours?”

Your mind blanks and fizzles out for a moment at the boy in front of you; beautiful curls and a dashing face—or at least what you considered dashing at fifteen years old—as well as a confident voice, despite his voice threatening to crack every other sentence. You clear your throat to get yourself on track as you’re sure you’ve kept him hanging long enough, and you take his hand, your shaky one meeting his firm one. You offer your name quietly, a nervous smile spreading across your face. Kyle coming up to you first made you feel a bit better, a confident boy who wasn’t afraid of interaction—a completely different stature than your own.

“How long are you here?” Kyle questioned you, his eyes roamed your suitcase and the too heavy backpack weighing on your shoulders. He could see the twinge of discomfort turning into borderline pain on your face, seeing how your eyebrow twitched and your nose would scrunch up a little bit. You took a second to process his words before you turned to him, as he walked to your right side, considering many people are still roaming the campsite. “All summer,” You answer, clearing your throat as you died from embarrassment because your voice squeaked. Kyle’s half smile widens into a full one, his fist punching your right upper arm for a moment. “Hey, alrigh’! Me too.”

Kyle looked around, seeing the camp counselors scrambling to get people to their correct assigned cabins. He looked at you, his eyes aimed down to your hands, where a small green piece of paper rested between your index and middle finger. His hand gestured to your hands, causing you to glance down at them. “What cabin did’ja get?” Kyle hummed as he leaned against the wooden fence that lined the camp area. It wasn’t there to really keep anything in or out, just to add to the forest-y feeling. You glanced down at the paper for a moment as your brain blanked. “Cabin five.” You responded, and your chest tightened at how this complete stranger’s eyes lit up in excitement. “Sweet, me too!” Kyle exclaimed. “Is all ‘ya paperwork sorted with?”

You nodded, and he grinned as he pushed himself off of the fence. “C’mon, I’ll help you get settled n’all.”

Kyle led you to cabin five, which was surprisingly empty at the time he helped you inside. There were people’s belongings strewn about the bunk beds, white masking tape on the front of the bunk bed frames with names scribbled on each tape, some beds remained unclaimed. The inside smelled like.. Well.. wood, considering it was a wooden cabin. It also faintly smelled like people’s various deodorants, as it was the age of “you don’t have to shower if you use spray deodorant”. Kyle led you to near one of the large windows by the back of the cabin. “This is my bunk,” He motioned to a bunk that was considerably well kept for a teenage boy—many teenage boys in the cabin didn’t keep their stuff neat, or in general—with a gameboy advance peeking out from under the pillow.

“Wait–you have a gameboy?” You gasped, completely forgetting about the all consuming anxious feeling that was swirling in your gut the moment you arrived outside of the camp. Kyle laughed and he nodded, swiping it up from under his pillow, and he handed it to you. Your jaw is dropped open and you mindlessly let your suitcase plonk onto the floor, as well as your backpack which makes a thump. You look up at him and grin, and Kyle definitely noticed the change in your demeanor, your eyes locking for the first time. “What games do you have with you?”

You two spent the rest of the time together setting up your bunk—you ended up being his top bunk, he moved a lot in his sleep so he opted for a bottom one—and talking about video games, family, friends back at home; everything, all until the camp counselors rounded everyone up around 0830. From that moment on, you two were attached at the hip the entire summer. You clicked nearly instantaneously, clicked so close you two acted like you’ve known each other since early childhood. You two partnered up for everything, and at the end of the camp? Kyle blinked in surprise when you didn’t only hand him your home phone number, but also your email, as well as your xbox gamertag.

Your clear efforts to stay in contact weren’t unwelcomed; in fact, he very much appreciated your efforts. Kyle had such a good time with you over the two or so months together, he didn’t want you to become a “just summer” friend that he would possibly see next summer. He wanted to talk to you as much as possible, because you two just clicked so well. Kyle couldn’t recall anyone else he genuinely clicked so well and fast with, and he was determined to stay friends.

Kyle let a stupid grin out on his face when you accepted his friend request on xbox after a few days following the end of summer camp, and you sent an invite to him to play a game you both own; a very famous first person shooter.

[tea-with-evan-and-me]

My stomach is in knots I really hope he wins. ❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹 I wish I could personally congratulate him with a big tight hug. Being totally honest here another visual interaction I had with him, was we were sitting down somewhere this was a continuation of the first time we met basically lol. And fate really said ‘You may see him again if you’d like’ but yeah we met again totally random and he recognized me. Evan even seemed genuinely happy to see me and I literally felt my eyes water anyways I remember us having a semi deep conversation. Nothing sad or anything just about our individual goals, what makes life easier on our hard days stuff like that. Anyways I carefully asked him if he was okay not because of how he looked or what he said. Just a check in sort of deal and he was caught off guard a bit and I could tell he was hesitating. So I gave him an assuring smile saying he didn’t have to answer I was just again checking in. Anyways he’s kinda quiet but is like yeah I’m good I appreciate it, and I nod telling him oh no it’s all good I didn’t wanna upset you by asking. I just care about you is all I swear I could see his eyes light up and that sweet dimpled smile of his. He even took my hand into his own and squeezed it as a friendly gesture of course, I really dunno if he’s that touchy with friends or anyone in general. But yeah my heart pounded a bit and my face flushed not in an uncomfy way just like caught off guard. He was really sweet about this and made sure I was comfy because he noticed my reaction and I nodded. It was so surreal such a comforting, kind touch honestly. He also asks if I’m okay the same way I asked him and being a pretty sensitive person I kinda hesitated. But tell him yeah I’m okay I struggle a lot mentally so some days are definitely a challenge I won’t lie. When I tell you how he took my hand into both of his own and just squeezed it I had to close my eyes. Because I knew I was gonna cry and I wasn’t about to do it around him, the one thing that kept me from breaking was his hug. It was warm, kind, the kind of hug everyone deserves to experience at least once. The way he hugged me seemed like he needed it too tbh especially when I finally hugged back just as tight. It was so cute because he sorta made himself shorter during the hug no clue if on purpose or not. But maybe because I’m 5’ 5’ maybe 5’ 6’ either way him doing that made it all the more special. No words needed to be said either we both just knew that maybe we weren’t okay at all. And just needed a moment of platonic affection and human care. Again I don’t know how accurate him being in this is or if it’s wayy off it was so real to me and I loved it. It was definitely bittersweet but like really amazing dark chocolate with just enough sugar to make you want more even if it’s a rare kind to find. 💔❤️‍🩹

❤️🥺

i know we all agree, it would be great to give him a big hug and congratulate him on all his hard work and success. and remind him of how much love we all have for him. thank you anon!!

[mypoisonedvine]

Side Effects | Bruce Banner x reader

summary: you never know what might be in the beakers at another chemist's station. you never know which of your colleagues might come along just in the knick of time to become the only antidote to your affliction.

word count: 3.6k

warnings: smut! (dub con due to sex pollen), semi-public sex (because technically someone could have walked by but unlikely), guilt/hesitance, kinda pining??, fingering, creampie,

a/n: yes, this is an accurate depiction of emergency shower protocol in a chemical lab and yes it is every lab technician's worst nightmare. thankfully the other stuff is not an accurate depiction of any known chemical, lol.

You wiped your forehead with a tired sigh, staring down at the calculations in front of you before using your pen to scribble over them before tearing out the page and throwing it away.

“You still do that by hand?” Bruce interjected, making you look up at where he was leaning in the doorway to the lab, watching you work.

“Oh, Dr. Banner!” you greeted with a smile, wondering if it was too ecstatic. You weren’t so good at the ‘playing it cool’ thing like he seemed to be.

“We have all those fancy screens and digital whiteboards, you know,” he explained as he stepped in and looked around at your work. “Not to mention the computer can do that stuff for you.”

“I know,” you scoffed, “but I always feel better doing it myself, on real paper. Not that I’m having any luck at the moment…”

"Here, I'll give them a quick look while you take a break," he offered, glancing at the numbers from over your shoulder. "You just get up and stretch your legs for a minute, doc."

You always thought it was sort of silly for him to call you that when he was a doctor as well, but you didn't complain.

Regardless, you were about to tell him that it was fine and you didn't need a break, but he was leaning in closer to take your seat and the proximity was so intimidating that you hopped up and went along with it anyways. He sat down and pondered your calculations while you circled the lab, taking a moment to appreciate how nice it felt to stand up and move around after sitting for so long.

"Your handwriting is…" Bruce trailed off, adjusting his glasses.

"Feminine and graceful?" you finished sarcastically.

"Sure," he chuckled.

"Yeah, just like me—" you started to quip, but mid-sentence you (ironically) stumbled and tripped, using a nearby table to catch yourself— but you accidentally grabbed onto a beaker, which tipped over and smashed onto the ground. The liquid inside spilled onto the floor just before you did, and you winced as you fell into the puddle of the unknown substance.

“Shit!” you hissed as you scrambled to get up, looking down at your clothes and seeing they were covered in the fluid, which was beginning to evaporate, or steam, or something. Remembering lab safety protocols, you instantly began to strip, closing your eyes and wishing Bruce hadn’t come in just before this. As you shirked your lab coat, shirt, and skirt, you walked to the emergency shower, pulling the lever and gasping when the chilly stream of water poured down on you. Bruce looked at you with wide eyes before being kind enough to turn around as you shivered and removed your bra and underwear, now completely naked and weakly scrubbing yourself with your hands in hopes that none of the chemical had gotten onto your skin.

“What is it?” he asked nervously, turning his head back enough that you could hear him over the flow of water, but hopefully not so much that he could see anything important.

“I don’t know,” you answered, “it’s not mine. It’s something Dr. Sutherland was working on…”

“Is it… are you in pain at all?” he asked, even more concerned, and you tried to decide if you could feel any effects.

“N-no…” you answered hesitantly. You felt hot, and strange, and you were covered in rolling chills, but you figured that was just the situation you were in— naked in a tepid shower in front of your coworker who just so happened to be incredibly sexy.

“I should call poison control,” Bruce offered as he reached for his cell phone.

“No, I’m fine,” you denied as the water flow slowed down and you wiped your face, confident that you looked like a complete mess— but at least you saved yourself from whatever was in that beaker, right?

“Here,” Bruce offered an emergency blanket to you after pulling it off a nearby shelf, and it was not at all absorbent but it helped with the draft as you stepped away from the shower which was still leaking the last few drops of water onto the drain on the floor.

“Thank you,” you nodded nervously, shivering and dripping and looking back at him with no idea what to say at all.

“Do you feel alright? I should check you for burns,” he suggested. “I— I won’t look…”

“Please,” you sighed, pulling the blanket a bit to expose your chest and stomach. He brushed his hand over the skin there, making you instantly whine as heat burned just under your skin, clouding your mind and making you crave even more.

"Did that hurt?" he asked anxiously, pulling away, but you stepped closer.

"No it's… it's good, it's so good."

He furrowed his brow as he looked down at you, putting the back of his hand to your forehead. "You're burning up, doc, you must be running a fever of 105."

"Touch me more, please," you whimpered. It was like you were in a dream, everything foggy and distant, and the only time that anything made sense was when he touched you. Or maybe it was that his touch sent you further into delirium; you couldn't be sure.

He gasped when he looked at your quivering legs only to find slick arousal running down the inside of them, threatening to drip onto the floor.

"Oh," he sighed.

"Please," you begged mindlessly, "Dr. Banner, I n-need you…"

"No, you need medical attention."

You whined and grabbed as his shirt, humming at the feeling of his warm skin just beneath. If the forearms that he often left exposed in rolled-up sleeves were anything to go buy, his chest was probably toned and tanned, lightly dusted with dark hair… you were all but drooling at the thought. "Please, Bruce… just help me," you pleaded, looking up into his eyes which were swirling with conflict.

"I can't," he shook his head. "I'd be taking advantage."

He must have seen the heartbreak of rejection make you wince, because he tried to soothe you with his hands resting on your arms— even just that contact making you suppress a moan.

"I've wanted this for so long," he explained, "and you— you haven't. You're unwell, you need to go to a hospital."

You sobbed a little at the idea of being taken away from him and examined by strangers, when you knew the solution was right in front of you. "No, no Bruce they'll touch me! Nobody can touch me but you, I only want you."

He scoffed, but you heard the weakness in it and you needed him to give in soon before you melted from your own hear. "You're deranged— delirious," he reiterated.

"It'll feel so good, please Bruce, I'll be so good for you— anything you want, I'll do it, I'm yours."

"Stop talking like that," he winced. "I can't… I can't."

"I need to feel you inside me, Dr. Banner, I need it more than anything. It's just gonna get worse… please, help me. I want you. I trust you."

"You'll hate me in the morning," he asserted. "God, this is so wrong…"

But much to your relief, he reached down and hesitantly slid his thick middle finger through your folds, gasping gently as he felt how wet you were. "I should t-take you somewhere private."

"No, need you now— right here," you pleaded, trying to chase his touch with your hips.

"But if someone came by—" he began to fret, glancing at the door; but his attention was turned back to you by your hands weaving into his hair.

"Nobody else stays this late, god, Bruce please I just need you so bad—"

He cut you off with a sudden kiss, which was enough on its own to make warmth bloom in your gut, but then he started to move his finger again and you shuddered with a moan that was muffled by his lips.

"Maybe I can make you come like this," he offered as he pulled back just enough to whisper to you, "would that help you? It'll take the edge off."

You bucked and moaned against his fingers, just those subtle touches driving you wild. "N-no, it has to be inside! You have to fuck me, I need your cock."

He breathed through his teeth, like he was almost considering it, but then looked away. "I can't," he shook his head.

"Can't or won't?"

He frowned. "Won't. I'll get you off with my fingers, otherwise it would be… too selfish."

"Bruce, I'm literally begging you for it," you sighed, the irritated tone that you'd intended lost in the moans he elicited by rubbing your swollen clit.

"I know," he winced, "I know and it's killing me that I can't give you what you're asking for… I swear if it wasn't like this…" he trailed off as you looked up at him with your bottom lip between your teeth.

"What would it be like?" you asked lowly. "Tell me how you would fuck me."

For all his shyness before, there was a brief switch in his demeanor as he leaned in, breath hot against your neck as he whispered, two fingers sliding into your channel at the exact moment that he spoke.

"So fucking hard."

You whimpered, knees wobbling a bit as you tried to ride his fingers— but he wasn't pushing back, wasn't giving you enough force to balance against when you sought more friction. "P-please, Bruce— I know you want to, please, please baby I need it so bad…"

"I know," he breathed, free hand cradling your face as his thumb stroked your cheek, and it was so needlessly compassionate, so effortlessly soothing that your heart had no choice but to clench at his tenderness. Other parts of you clenched as well, in much more literal ways, but the heart thing was more important.

You gingerly reached forward and palmed his cock through his pants, moaning when you felt how hard it was. "You're desperate, too," you informed him with a little smile. "It hurts, doesn't it? It aches."

"Yes," he answered tensely.

"I'm hurting too. I'm aching, for you. Please, Bruce, help me."

As he pulled back and examined your face, he chewed his lip and contemplated. He couldn't stand to see you in pain, but he couldn't comprehend what he had to do to help you. Well, okay, that's not totally accurate because he had actually "comprehended" the idea of making love to you plenty of times. But that was just a fantasy, a very misguided one that he only indulged in in his weakest moments. And in those fantasies, shockingly enough, you were always completed lucid and of sound mind and body. He sadly could not say that for you at the moment, and of course he couldn't because of course when you were sober and healthy, you didn't see him that way.

Bruce prided himself on his logic, his integrity, his patience. Suddenly, those qualities were falling prey to a much deeper, carnal instinct that saw this not as a predicament but as an opportunity. Logic states, after all, that it would be wasteful to have everything he wanted thrown into his lap and to let it go to waste.

"Fuck," he groaned as he kissed you again, fucking you faster with his fingers. You moaned and went for his belt, barely managing to open it with your hands shaking so much; part of you had considered just trying to rip the leather off of him, and with the force of your need it seemed almost plausible.

Finally getting his trousers opened just enough to reach inside, you purred as you reached in and navigated past his boxers to wrap your fingers around his hard cock. It was so thick and smooth and hot and you almost wanted to drop to your knees and take it in your throat right then, but you had better plans.

He pulled his fingers out of you slowly, grinning against you at the way you whined, before wrapping his arms around you and quickly instructing you to jump.

It was infuriating, how easily he caught you when you wrapped your body around him. Infuriating and so painfully sexy.

He never broke the kiss as he walked the two of you to your lab table, sliding the papers aside and onto the floor to set you on it. You started on his aggravatingly-small shirt buttons while he pushed his trousers and boxers down the rest of the way, and god his cock was right there between your legs, so close but very much too far away for your liking.

You didn't have the time or energy to get his shirt off, settling for just running your hands over the exposed skin instead. He grinned and watched the path your hands made, hissing slightly when they wrapped around his shaft— for a second you swore you could feel it throb.

"Don't make me wait anymore," you whispered your plea, sighing a little when he nodded.

"Okay baby," he agreed.

"Been waiting so long," you whined.

"Me too," he nodded, and with a little push, his cock slid all the way into you and filles you to the brim. Even when you were completely drenched, the girth of him was so wide that it stung, that it tore you open, but you loved it. Your head fell back and just from him being inside you, you came. The substance had you so needy and sensitive that that was all it took. It wasn't enough yet, of course. You knew you needed more. But God, he felt so good you could hardly breathe.

"Baby," you heard Bruce gasp, his fingers digging into your hips. Your chest twisted when he laughed a little, breathless and just teetering on the line between complimentary and mocking. "Did you just come?"

You considered playing dumb, but nodded instead.

His smile was apparent when he pressed his lips just below your ear to suck on the delicate skin there, his teeth trailing up to nibble your earlobe lightly. You hoped he would leave a mark, you hoped he would leave lots of marks that you could remember this by for weeks to come.

"Couldn't help yourself, huh?" he asked breathlessly, whispering so quietly you could barely hear it over the beating of your own pulse which echoed in your ears.

"You feel so good," you justified, "so fucking good, Bruce."

"You too," he sighed as he finally pulled back and slid into you again, the friction making your back arch instantly. "Even better than I imagined."

You smiled and wrapped your legs around his hips, forcing him to push deeper with each thrust. When he pushed you to your limits it felt like you might just fall apart right there, but it was so worth it.

As if that wasn't enough, he reached down and circled a thumb over your overstimulated clit, grinning down at you at the sight of you writhing and bucking wildly in his arms.

"Fuck!" you cried as you tightened your hands on his shoulders into fists hard enough to risk tearing through his shirt.

"Too much?"

"More," you pleaded instead, crying out when he gave you exactly what you wanted with fast, rough thrusts into your drenched walls. "Yes," you sobbed, "yes, fuck— m'gonna come, Bruce, gonna come again."

"Go ahead," he encouraged, voice so much rougher than normal, "show me how good it feels, baby."

It felt like his words were the thin that pushed you over the edge, as if your body somehow both understood and obeyed his command. You could feel a renewed wave of slick leak out from you, enough that you could hear the wetness in each slap of his hips against yours. His name was somewhere in the litany of curses and praises that spilled from your lips, your mind too clouded with hazy pleasure to keep track of what you were actually saying.

"Just like that," he groaned, "doing so good, fuck, say my name just like that every time I make you come."

An easy enough stricture to follow, especially when it seemed like he was all you could think about. He looked so different with his clothes half-shorn and his eyes dark with lust. He hadn't taken his glasses or labcoat off and you weren't sure which of those you were happier about.

His lips and hands were all over you; you couldn't even keep track of everywhere he was touching you, that's how overwhelming it was. "God, you're so fucking perfect," he groaned against your skin, finding a hardened nipple as his tongue explored you and wrapping his lips around it. "You are so goddamn sexy, you know that? I love seeing you with your legs spread for me like a needy little whore. I love hearing you moan and knowing I'm the one making you feel this good."

He took a moment to look at you and soak in your shocked reaction to his words before leaning in to continue.

"I love feeling you come for me," he purred in your ear.

"Then you're gonna really like what I'm about to do," you shivered.

"Yeah? You can gimme another one already?" he smiled. "Such a good girl…"

You really couldn't help it, it felt like everything he did only enhanced your pleasure— his words, his hands all over you, not to even mention his cock inside you. As much as the hedonistic corner of your brain was happy to let this go on forever, the ramifications of constant orgasms were finally catching up with you as you wondered how much more of this you could take.

"F-fuck, are you close?" you asked weakly. "Want you to come for me, Bruce, please."

"I-I'll pull out," he suggested, although the way he looked down at his length sinking into you and pulling back out, covered in your abundant arousal, didn't exactly indicate that he was willing and able to actually make good on his offer.

"No!" you yelped, pulling him closer by his unbuttoned shirt. "It needs to be inside, Bruce, please come inside me."

"Fuck," he hissed through his teeth.

"Please, Bruce, please, promise you'll come inside."

"I will," he sighed, "fuck, I will baby, I promise I'm gonna fill you up so good, you're gonna have my come so fucking deep inside you…"

"Yes!" you moaned, completely unabashed as the unknown substance had apparently absolved you of any shame whatsoever. "Yes, I want it, Bruce, I want your come."

The moment you felt his seed start to paint your walls, you felt relief begin to wash over you. Your mind and body relaxed, the overwhelming heat under your skin subsiding into a comforting warmth, the desperation that had burned in your gut satiated at last.

And that left you staring up at him in realization of what you had done, just as he looked back at you with the same.

"God, I'm so sorry—" he shuddered, moving to pull away. Instinctively your legs wrapped around his hips again, holding him close.

"N-no, wait," you groaned, "it's okay. Don't go."

"You don't hate me," he said, the exhaustion in his tone making it hard to tell if it was a question or a statement.

"Never," you sighed with a weak smile, sitting up to clutch his face and kiss him again. "God, Bruce, now I'm just wondering what took us so long."

"Our lab safety is just too good, clearly," he smiled as he kissed you again, pulling back a little too soon to examine your face where he held it in his hands. "Are you okay? You should still probably go to a doctor…"

"I'm already with a doctor," you smirked, "and his treatment was very effective."

"Yeah, that was…" he trailed off, wide eyes as if he were reminiscing about what had only just transpired.

"Sorry for being so… desperate," you cringed. "I didn't mean to… um… impose…"

He just laughed and kissed your forehead, making you feel your cheeks warm a bit; ironic that with everything that had just happened, this was what made you blush. "A beautiful, amazing woman that I've been dreaming about for months begs me to take her in the laboratory… really inconvenient."

"I mean, cleaning up these papers and the broken glass is gonna be pretty tedious, along with the incident report," you frowned.

"I'll help you with it," he offered.

"Tomorrow," you decided. "Right now, I'm taking you to my place."

"Is that so?" he asked with a bemused smirk.

"Yep. We both are in serious need of a shower, and then I wanna go again," you grinned wickedly.

"I thought you said you weren't feeling the effects of the chemical anymore," he recalled, voice tinted with concern.

"I'm not," you reassured, "I'm just feeling the effects of you."

[spasmsofthought]

rituals. (zuko x water tribe!reader)

+This turned out to be far longer than I anticipated it to be, but I couldn’t get this idea out of my head. I’m sorry if Zuko feels out of character; I tried my best to not make him so. I wrote him in my mind to be older than 16 and with, at least, a year of Fire Lord experience with him. All of the things he says in this fic may not be completely on point, but I hope I made sense of his character in this situation and kept an accurate frame of reference for you to hold onto! 

I’ve been thinking: What would it have been like to marry the Fire Lord if you were an outsider, from another nation/element? And where that question led me is what produced this. 

I tried my best to have accurate research, but if something’s off or wrong, please kindly let me know! I’m not an expert about the fandom here. 

Otherwise, I hope you enjoy this mess of fluffy Fire Lord Zuko and a Water Tribe OC just trying to navigate the way between two different cultures. 

Read Part II here! 

Like, comment, reblog! 

--

“Thank you.” You smile softly as some Fire Palace officials make their way out of the giant, ornate room. Their faces are more stoic, but there is one older man who gives you a slight quirk of his lips before they are back in a thin line. He’s been the only one who has been semi-kind to you. The rest of them have just been rigid and downright insufferable. It takes a few moments before their footsteps recede and you are surrounded by silence. 

It turns out that the Fire Lord asking you to become his wife comes with a lot more than you thought it would. 

And of course, you had never been blind to the fact that Zuko is of royal lineage. His family has passed down the title and office of Fire Lord for generations. The people of the Fire Nation have known this family for over a century. 

The blood definitely feels thicker than water here, though Zuko’s own familial situation may testify against that. 

How naïve of you to think any of this would be simple and easy. Nothing about this past century has been.

You press your head to the solid table beneath you, hand-crafted and polished so that it shines like the stars you remember seeing at night back home. Frustration and stress knit your shoulders together, your arms curling in towards your midsection.  

Deep breath in, the voice of your mother reminds you. You can barely remember her face now, lost to time, but her voice still somehow stays clear. You hope it stays that way for a long time. Now let it go, she says, too. 

If you close your eyes, you can almost picture your little family’s home. The sea squid hanging out to dry so that it can be prepared for supper and her bed disheveled but lined with furs that keep you both warm at night and during the coldest days. It’s probably empty now, a home to no one. 

You exhale, forehead still pressed against the table. You repeat the process a few more times, trying to somehow expel the tightness of your shoulders. The weight stays. Despite whatever you may lose,  being with Zuko is the closest to home you will ever feel now. 

You get up from your seated position at the table and move to a window, looking down at the picturesque landscape of a quiet pond garden. You lean against a pillar supporting the ceiling and try to absorb yourself in the peaceful scenery. You close your eyes and try to listen to the sound of the soft breeze rustling the leaves of the tree. You just want it all to go away for a second.

“Have they exhausted you yet?” A gravelly voice behind you asks. 

You turn to see Zuko standing in the open doorway. He’s dressed in all his formal attire, of course, but he seems to carry his own weight on his shoulders today. 

Idiot, you think, of course he looks stressed and weighed down. He’s trying to re-establish peace among four nations after the 100-year war his ancestor started. 

“Yeah, sure.” You mumble and smile softly. 

The moment doesn’t last long before you turn back to the pond, stomach churning now. The grief and the stress mingle together. You miss home, you miss the weather and wearing your furs. You miss your parents, who have been gone for four years; your father to the war and your mother to sickness. The ache never seems to go away, but it dulls when Zuko is able to be around. 

Zuko makes his way to stand beside you, saying nothing as he directs his gaze also to the peaceful pond, undisturbed by people or the noise of the outside world. 

Despite what you had been told about the Fire Nation your whole life growing up, and what you’d been told about Zuko during the War, you’d always appreciated when he did this. Despite his title and the lineage he carries, he’s always treated you like an equal. You are no less to him because you are female, and you are no less to him because you come from the Water Tribe. 

If it had been a few years ago, you wonder if he would have thought differently. Or perhaps he has always been able to understand honor more than most since he was a child, and that was part of the reason he was the one who was destined to be Fire Lord all along. 

You take in the side profile of his face for a moment, trying to gather the strength you’ve always had inside you.  

“I don’t want to worry you,” You begin, turning back to the view of the pond. 

It’s still and quiet and sounds like a great place to escape to in this present moment. 

“I’ll let you know when I can’t handle it,” His sardonic tone answers back. 

You know he means it as a joke, but there’s a stark truth to his words. He’s handled much more than a trivial conversation about what may be bothering you.

You take a moment to organize your thoughts so that you don’t come across as an emotional train wreck. Zuko has always seemed to have infinite patience with you while you express your emotions, but emotional intelligence is new to him as well. You don’t want to burden him with trying to figure out your emotions while he’s trying to cope with and understand his own. 

“I just... I didn’t know how difficult this would be.” 

“What?” He sounds a bit surprised. 

“Adopting your culture as my own,” Zuko opens his mouth but you stop him before he can even begin. “From a shallow frame of reference, I had always known your culture and your people would be different than mine. And the time I spent traveling back and forth from the Water Tribe to here when I was only your girlfriend gave me some exposure, but I didn’t know. Not really. Most of your people have been so indoctrinated by nationalistic propaganda that our union wouldn’t have really even been conceivable a few years ago.” 

There’s another moment of silence as you take a breath and exhale it. In and out. Zuko doesn’t try to interrupt the moment with platitudes or words of comfort, and that’s another thing you’ve grown to love about him. 

He doesn’t say something he doesn’t mean. It’s not in his nature to do so. 

In allowing each of you to struggle with the weight of your words and emotions, he honors your emotions without dismissing them. Sometimes, it leaves you speechless because the practice is so ingrained in him, there are times he doesn’t even notice he does it. 

“I can adapt. That’s not what I’m worried about. My people are strong because we are so willing to adapt to change, just like the ocean: strong and flexible. I can belong here without losing myself. I just don’t have anything to bring with me. There is no recognition of my culture, and since these meetings have started a few days ago, I get shut down every time I try to bring something into what should be the happiest day of my life.” 

You turn to him also and take a step closer. His expression remains neutral and you can tell it’s going to take some time for him to digest all of this. For a moment, you place your hands on his chest, clothed with the finest robes available in the Fire Nation. 

“When I said yes to your proposal, to the reality of a life with you, I meant it with all of my heart. I still do. But I have nothing tying me to my homeland or the place of my birth like you do here.”

He looks like he has a thousand things to say, but then the words fade away before they even make it out of his mouth. Zuko’s face turns back towards the outside, looking out at the pond as a soft breeze again disturbs the tree by the water. He always gets this look in his eyes when he’s in deep thought. The dilemma is less with him and his position as Fire Lord and more with how to integrate you in his world without making you “fit in” in ways you were never supposed to. 

“If I’ve learned anything over the past few years,” He begins, still standing straight and looking outside. “It’s that nothing in the world is right if there is no balance.” 

He reaches inside his formal robe and pulls out a box. Your brows furrow in confusion, because Zuko is not one to give gifts. 

“I was going to give this to you later, but it seems like the right time now.” He shrugs and hands you the box while a hand goes to rub his neck. 

He always does this when he feels shy or flustered. It’s kind of cute to see the “decisive Fire Lord” act like a teen aged boy. He had rare opportunity to act like one before. 

The box is like a square and a silk ribbon is tied around it. Your fingers work at the knot while you raise your eyebrow at him. You place the ribbon on the windowsill once it’s unraveled and gently pull the lid off the box. It may have looked inexpensive, but you never truly knew in the Fire Nation. 

The thing inside almost takes your breath away. It’s all blue, every single bit of it. 

It’s a betrothal necklace. 

You didn’t even know Zuko knew they existed, let alone what it would have meant in your culture if he gave you one. (Granted, he’s already asked you to marry him, but for the moment you dismiss the thought.) 

It’s true, most marriages are arranged by parents or parental figures in the Water Tribe. Most people at home are not as lucky as you have been to freely choose a partner, whether inside the Tribe or outside of it. Sometimes it seems a more hollowed out gesture when neither party is truly looking to get married for love. But the ones that do always give the necklace its meaning and purpose. 

“I asked Katara for some help,” He began to explain as you stare at the necklace. “I didn’t know what I was doing or where I should go, so she was the one who guided me. She gave me some ideas of what the carving in the stone should represent, but in the end, I came up with the design by myself.” 

Zuko rubs the back of his neck again as you glance between him and the necklace. 

The choker is dark blue as always, but the color gives you some semblance of peace. Blue isn’t a very prominent color displayed in the Fire Nation. Indeed, the stone fastened to the choker has already been carved into. The design is somehow intricate and simple at the same time. It is intimate without being gaudy or overdone. It is all blue and reflective of the culture you grew up in and the one you still carry with you. 

“You carved it yourself?” You whisper, not doubting the answer but still needing to ask it. Zuko just nods and your eyes well up with tears. He doesn’t even know how sacred this necklace is to you in a place where no one else will ever understand its full importance and meaning. 

“Will you put it on for me?” You hand the necklace to him as you also discard the box on the windowsill and turn your back to him. You’re thankful your hair is already tied back (still adorned with various blue beads from your background) as you sweep it to the side so Zuko can clasp the necklace around your neck. 

The weight of it is unfamiliar but grounding. It anchors you to the truth. It reminds you that no matter what marrying Zuko looks like, you carry your culture with you wherever you go. The way you treat others, hold yourself, and what you, hopefully, pass down to your children is far more important than what traditions you do or don’t adhere to in a ceremony. 

“I’ll talk to the officials,” He offers as he clasps the choker together. “You should be able to have all the customs that are important to you when we get married. You have always been my equal, but this time it will be a fact and not just an assumption.” 

You touch the stone with your fingers as you turn back to face him. The tears are already sliding down your cheeks, but you also give him a sweet close-lipped smile. He knows but he doesn’t. And that is what makes him so beautiful. 

You cup his face between your palms and feel him relax a little. Physical affection had never been a priority in his childhood or adolescence, but you can tell he’s starting to understand why you think it’s important to give and receive it. 

“Thank you,” You say, smiling wider. 

You close the distance and bring your mouth towards his. The kiss is steady and soft but also full of unrestrained emotion. Zuko gives you a second one before you both pull apart. He just shakes his head. 

“I think I’m the one who should be thanking you.” He whispers back as he brings you to his chest. 

He is home now, and that is what matters. 

[wesimpforxiao]

Say My Name and I’ll Be There: 8.1

Author’s Note:  As for the next few or possibly several chapters, give me some time to write them.  I want to write the Lantern Rite chapter perfectly and in order to do that I need 1. for us all to experience the in-game event so I can capture it accurately and 2. to catch up on my schoolwork because my college goes by the 10-week quarter system and we are smack in the middle of it.  Apologies for the inconvenience, but I refuse to give a sub-par Lantern Rite chapter as I believe it will be the most important in this story!!  The next one or two chapters should be released by the end of next week.

......

Only on the eve of the Lantern Rite, several days before the celebration, did Xiao come to appreciate the hours of hard work you were putting into practicing music.

He had slaughtered a band of mitachurls, hilichurls, and lawachurls near Lihua Pool when he fell into darkness.  He collapsed to his knees, struggling for breath, spots filling his vision beneath the mask.  While he had dealt with karmic debt for two thousand years, this time had to be one of the worst falters.  He knelt beneath the somber moon that bore witness to his shortcoming.

The waves of pain drove him mad and the voices drowned out the singing of the crickets and frogs.  Xiao clutched at his chest in an effort to rid himself of the agony as he wondered if it was finally his time to die and join the fallen yakshas.  His mask disintegrated as he fell to all fours.  It's fine, just breathe, he reminded himself.

It was then when he heard the tune.  

"B-Barbatos?"  The yaksha groaned despairingly as he forced himself to raise his head toward the sound.  He was being saved by the wind god for a second time--No.  That's her, he realized when he recognized the all-too familiar tune.  But the way you were playing this time...had he only heard a fraction of your practice sessions? You carried the notes so well compared to last time--

Xiao rolled over so he lie on his back, eyes meeting the glints of the stars that shone down upon him.  It was like the pain had knocked the wind out of him.  No matter.  At least he would die listening to you.  The idea was peaceful to think about.

...miss...love you...

Your faint prayers that accompanied the moonsong somehow broke through the crowded shouting of the damned and eased the heavy knot in his stomach while he gasped for air.  The tune continued to build until Xiao could only compare your talent to that of the wind archon.  It was beautiful, soft, and it fit you perfectly despite your stubborn personality that was accentuated by the harbinger's shenanigans.

The image brought a faint smile to his lips, the expression slowly widening as you played on.  Your selfless nature; the need to protect a yaksha from harm's way...Your daring eyes when you butt heads with Childe...The honey-sweet grin you reserved only for Xiao and Xiao alone.  It was  the way you carried yourself in battle, the way you interacted with strangers.  How and when you prayed to him.  Your light humming accompanied your music.

Archons, you were remarkably stunning in every way imaginable.  The yaksha failed to notice how big his smile was as a few of his tears slid down the sides of his face.  It was his own longing for you that manifested and whirled around in his chest.  Beautiful, he thought as the music continued.  So, so beautiful.  It was as if the music described yourself.  For how could he give up and die now, after falling for you?  Maybe...just maybe...Xiao allowed himself to sit in the fluffy cloud of human 'compassion' as he listened to you play.  He wouldn't dare call the emotion for what it truly was.  Not now.  Not yet.  You had to understand something before he could allow himself to love you.  Er, to care for you.  Y-yes.  That's it.  Xiao refocused his attention on your music to avoid thinking any deeper on the subject.

Yet though his mind listened to your moonsong, his heart entertained the possibility of finally admitting his lo--er, compassion for you.

He didn't notice that the pain had long faded, that the spots in his vision had cleared and that the voices of the vanquished silenced themselves.  He drifted to sleep right there in the middle of the dirt road as you played into the night, and for the first time in a long time, he slept with mind and body in peace.

................................

"Morning, Mezzetin," Childe greeted you with two mugs of hot chocolate in his hands.  He gave one to you before indulging in his while he leaned against your door.  "Sleep well?"

"I did, surprisingly.  The pain was pretty bad until I started practicing."  You rubbed your bleary eyes and let out a long yawn.  "Why do you ask?"

"You didn't call for him."

"Hm?"

"You've yelled for the yaksha every night you've been here.  You were quiet last night."

"How would you know that? Are you just constantly sitting outside my room like a creep?"  Your quip brought a smile to Childe's lips as he sipped at his mug.  

"Well then, since you're feeling well enough to banter with me, I guess I have no need to reward you for your cooperation..."

"Huh?  What do you mean, 'reward?'"  You perked up when he faked reaching for the door handle.  "Tartaglia?"  In your effort to get him to explain, you jumped out of bed and subsequently spilled your drink all over the sheets.  A jarring pain shot through your bones, but you ignored it.

"The Tsaritsa has requested I return to my post in Liyue Harbor to...discipline a few underperforming officers during the Lantern Rite.  Since I am in charge of you, I requested that you accompany me.  Her Majesty agreed."

"W-what?!"  Your sudden shout made him jump slightly.  "You...she...you're letting me return?"

"Temporarily, yes, and it is for business reasons.  We figured it would aid in your...dilemma."

"I..."  Your gaze fell to the half-empty mug in your hands.  

"You don't want to go?" The harbinger raised a brow in surprise.  "Why, I thought you'd jump at this opportunity."

"It's not that..." you trailed, your finger absently circling the rim of your cup.  "Would I...be able to roam around by myself?"

"Depends on where you want to go."  His eyes narrowed slightly and he set his cup atop your bedside table.  "You won't be able to visit Qingce Village, nor the Wanshu Inn."  He watched your shoulders drop in disappointment before continuing.  "But I will allow you to enjoy the festival."

"...Am I allowed to talk to them?  My adventure team?"

Childe let out a small sigh before nodding.  "I think it would be good for your health to see them."

"Why are you allowing me?"  It was your turn to narrow your eyes in suspicion against the harbinger.  "Wouldn't this be, you know, a risk for you guys to let me see them?  Aren't you worried about that?"

"There will be several Fatui agents in Liyue during the festival; even if you're 'alone,' one of us will always be nearby.  I don't take you as a complete idiot," he admonished.  "Besides, Mr. Zhongli knows more about adeptal blood than we do at this point.  If you manage to gather more information, that would be a plus."

"I'm not gathering information for the likes of you," you retorted, crossing your arms much like Xiao does.

"I'm not asking you as your superior, nor your captor.  I'm suggesting it as your comrade in arms."

"Ha!"  You couldn't help but let out a full laugh at the set of statements.  "You really expect me to believe that?  All you guys do is manipulate and deceive.  I don't trust a word that comes out of your mouth!"

"Even if you learn something and keep it to yourself, do it for yourself, Mezzetin.  I've realized something after you joined us."

"Oh? What could you have possibly realized?"  You rolled your eyes and returned your gaze to the window, not particularly caring about his side of the conversation and instead wishing he would just leave already.

"I realized some of my actions were not for your wellbeing, but for mine."

........................................

It was sprinkling when Childe, the Eleventh of the Fatui Harbingers, finally tracked your rescue team down in Fontaine.  It really didn't take much of an effort, which was highly disappointing considering the harbinger loved to play cat-and-mouse with his foes.  Oh well.  At least Mr. Zhongli was here; the plan wouldn't work if he hadn't accompanied Aether and the yaksha.

The harbinger stood in the shadow of a nearby tree and scouted the sheltered camp.  Besides Aether, Zhongli, and an apparently-unconscious yaksha, there were two more opponents.  Childe recognized one of them to be the wine master Diluc, but couldn't name the other one.  Maybe he was one of Mondstat's knights, judging by the way he carried himself?  Then again, he seemed to be drinking pretty heavily...

Childe glanced back a ways where a few Fatui agents were waiting for his return.  This wouldn't take long; he knew two of the adventurer's tricks, and the knight didn't look like he'd pose much of a challenge.  All he needed was to speak with Zhongli.

"I have to admit I'm disappointed for finding you so quickly," the harbinger made his presence known and stepped out of the shadows.  A chill ran down everyone's spines.

"I still can't believe you were naïve enough to get involved with the Fatui," Diluc sent an admonishing look Aether's way before summoning his broadsword.  "And hid it from me, no less."

"We're sorry!"  Paimon squeaked with her hands in the air.  "We didn't trust him completely!"

"It was my fault for allowing this to continue without your knowledge, Aether."  Zhongli rose from his seat and manifested his polearm.  "Allow me to make amends."

"I assume you're the one we're after?"  Kaeya unsheathed his sword and stood side-by-side with Diluc, much to his bro's dismay.  Despite all the wine he had consumed, he remained unusually composed.

"I've come to speak with Mr. Zhongli," Childe answered, both hands raised semi-defensively while the expression on his face was no less than that of a sly fox.  "And to retrieve the yaksha."

"We don't think so!"  Aether charged first and swung his blade through the air.  It collided against the well-known hydro blades of the harbinger before parrying off.  

Next was Diluc, whose flaming weapon created steam as it sliced through Childe's blades.  His attacks were slower than Aether's, but the amount of power coming from them nearly made the harbinger flinch both in hesitation and in excitement.  It was then that Xiao's eyes had opened slightly before he lost consciousness again.  Kaeya lunged forth and used his skill to send a burst of ice at the harbinger in an effort to freeze him in place.

Childe barely dodged, one blade freezing over.  "Tch."  The last thing he needed was to deal with a cryo user in this weather.  He was already at a disadvantage by wielding a hydro vision in normal circumstances.  His hydro burst threw everyone backwards, and he switched to his delusion.  

Electricity surged through the camp as everyone got to their feet and readied themselves for an onslaught of electro attacks.  None came; instead, the harbinger stared straight at Zhongli, who remained reserved and unbothered as he pointed the tip of his lance at him.  "This is your only warning, Childe," the archon spoke in an especially deep voice.  "Return her to us, or suffer the consequences."

"I only came to speak with you, Mr. Zhongli," Childe's eyes narrowed beneath his mask.  "As much as I'd love to indulge in a fight, I came here with a proposition.  Would you hear me out?"

Everyone's eyes turned expectantly to the archon, and he returned their gazes before allowing his polearm to disintegrate.  "Lower your weapons," he ordered much to everyone's dismay.

"But Zhongli!  He could trick you!" Paimon reappeared before the consultant.  "You can't--"

"Relax, Paimon," Zhongli quietly assured.  "I may not have a gnosis, but a harbinger is still by no-means what I perceive to be troublesome in battle."  He followed Childe a few meters away so the group was unable to hear them.

Childe shifted his mask to its resting place on the side of his head.  "There may be a way to retrieve her," he started in a quiet voice.  "But it would only be possible if you declare war against the Tsaritsa."

"Tell me, Childe, why should I trust you after you breached our trust?"

"You can't, but I trust that we all have our comrade's best interests in mind, no?   If you're able to rally the people of Teyvat, the Tsaritsa may yield.  Her Majesty has no interest in declaring war against the mortals as you are already aware."

It was a fitting task for the God of War; declare a world war against the Tsaritsa, and she'd yield without calling his bluff.  Even so, the former archon was not convinced.  Childe would need to up his charming façade.  He was only lying for your own safety after all; he'd back you into joining the harbingers, and you'd be free of the Fatui's grasp in the outside world.  You wouldn't be hunted for the rest of your life; you could live freely in your captors' backyard.  The suffering you were being thrown into now would last a lifetime if you continued to resist.

Some part of the harbinger knew it was a twisted form of compassion--dare he call it love--for you.  He needed you to free yourself both of the Fatui's and Xiao's grasps.  The only way to do that would be to recruit you, but you weren't so easy to convince.  You wouldn't be in danger of getting hurt by his subordinates his way.  You wouldn't hurt yourself by chasing after Xiao if Childe stepped in either.  He didn't care that it was selfish of him to step between your struggling romance.

What better way to keep you safe, mentally and physically, than to break you into submission?

The two opposing forces continued their hushed discussion for twenty more minutes before Zhongli broke away from Childe.  He was about to fill the group in on the details when Childe attacked him from behind.

[ladyamoit]

Seeking 18+ Arcana RP Partner

Me and a group of friends are seeking a role-play partner for both one on one rps and group rps. We’re a group of semi-literate to literate writers, meaning we prefer roleplay replies to be roughly two paragraphs minimum and between 3-4 sentences or more.



We’re seeking in particular someone who is willing to help play canon characters in our rps (we take turns playing canons based on who is comfortable with doing so and whoever wants to). As of now we are in particular need of a Lucio and Morga roleplayer, and a Valerius would be welcome. Our rps are canons x oc’s and ocs x other ocs. Likewise, if you’re in need of someone to play a canon for your oc or mc, we can play them for you in return. 



We’re very focused on character development, pacing, plot, and communication. It is important to us that everyone involved be invested, aware, and courteous to get to know and understand each other’s characters, so that we may act accordingly in the roleplays with each other.

If you are interested in joining the group please dm me so we can discuss this further, and have a writing sample at the ready. We rp in a private server through discord so access to that would be required. We are only accepting 18+ members. We're open to new rpers as long as you have writing experience and can try to be flexible to work with us and learn.

To get an idea of how we operate I've included some writing samples from our roleplay below, an example of one long and canon, and one short and oc based. LONG/CANON SAMPLE Lucio naturally beamed with pride to see that he had naturally taken his lover's breath away. It was fitting that all he could muster was an awed "Wow," could any other words really have somehow accurately defined his incredible handsomeness, poise, and grandeur accurately? Of course not.

Well. Yes, of course not, but that didn't mean Lucio would have necessarily turned down the string of compliments. Actually, he was deserving of compliments, even if they could never completely accurately capture his greatness with something as simple as human vocabulary.

His grin turned into that of a slight sneer as he enchantingly took in his own handsomely dressed body in the mirror at the later comment. He may as well be a god. Was that possible? Was it possible to remove the title as count and be labeled “his godship” or whatever? He had heard of that in other countries, with other rulers, but Nadia might not be so inclined to the idea...and he didn’t necessarily want to give up his title as count, Perhaps he could have two titles?!?!? “His Godship Count Lucio.” Now that sounded nice! He would have to see if he could remember to bring that up with Nadia later. With a dramatic flourish he turned, sending his cape up in sharp and demanding gesture as his hand rose to brilliantly beholden himself.

"Why of course they'll be happy to see me!" He assumed with a bright and theatrical bellow, his confident eyes now boring into Aesir's. "I'm the man of the hour, with one of the most lovely men in Vesuvia to be attending right at my--" He started bravely, before his eyes widened in horror upon taking in Aesir's own outfit and a loud and offended gasp sounded past his parted lips.

"AESIR!" He wailed, coming closer and cupping at the man's face with completely unnecessary sympathy. The gardener wasn't injured or hurt in any way, but in Lucio's eyes he may as well be--A ruined outfit might as well mean you've lost a leg and been unable to attend to begin with.

"My darling, my beloved, my rose, sun, moon, and stars, you simply cannot go out in something that does not show off your perfection as well as my own outfit does," he tsked with absolutely pleading eyes, searching his lover's face with absolute attention. "That would be cruel of me to try to make you stand by my state of perfection while you are left behind in such a state of disarray. I will not stand for it!"

He released Aesir from the intimate grip suddenly and with pronounced flair, cape whirling behind him as he turned yet again; it was in the state of his determination that he didn’t really think to acknowledge how it had actually come to fall over his lover’s head and hide him. Lucio was too busy trying to think, what could he do, what could he do to cover the stain...a new outfit perhaps??? No, no, white was Lucio’s color, and in light of unfortunate events tonight he had to resort to black, and while he loved Aesir he wouldn’t want to share...there had to be something....

He was pooling over vanity, looking at all the objects he could think of to place over the stain, perhaps a rose, a handkerchief, but no, none of those would match his outfit, or attach very easily…

There. In the corner of the vanity, one of his least favorite medals that he often forgot about. It wasn’t too flashy, nothing that would make it look particularly out of place on Aesir’s much more subdued but still overwhelmingly beautiful outfit, The medallion was gold, of course, Lucio wouldn’t have kept it if it wasn’t, but the piece of refined cloth that it was attached to was very close to the same shade of red as Aesir’s hair, perhaps only off by two or three shades. Certainly that would suffice.

“Behold!” He turned again, holding the medal high in the air, confidently strutting back to his lover’s front. “Our saving grace. Honestly I can’t believe I haven’t given you more of these in the past, then we’d both look incredibly awesome,” He chatted idly, fastening it with pace and practiced fingers over the stain. Perfect. SHORT/OC SAMPLE

Thank god the journey was over. As the carriage pulled to a stop outside the Vesuvia gates, Alexis could barely contain herself, as every instinct inside every fiber of her being was screaming at her to get out of the wretched thing. She hadn't even managed to look out the window as they rode through the city, so as her delicate hand slipped into the Duke's as he helped her out of the carriage, she got her first experience of the city. The towering stature of the palace was grand, and while it was only perhaps a bit bigger than the one back home, the style of architecture and color scheme was unlike anything she had ever seen before.

Her other hand rested over her stomach, trying to settle her nerves, still looking pale from the the past two weeks of travel. While she had hoped perhaps she would get a moment of down time, it didn't seem that would be the case; arriving a few hours before the actual start of the masquerade had reinforced the bustle around them as guests and staff alike were preparing for the festivities, and she clung closer to Emmanuel, her hand finding its way to the crook of his elbow to draw closer, almost shielding herself from the crowds and bustle around them. Where normally she could hold her own, she was worn down from the trip, but no doubt, so was he.

[gingerwritess]

Theo, my girl, my idol, my star, my main bitch, I gotta read about the first time that Loki is seen out and about after he's been released pleeeaaaasseeeee (and some sexual tension wouldn't hurt)

part 18 of predating idiots, in which you speak with that idiot for the first time since…everything happened. (he hasn’t exactly been released, but close enough ;))

warnings: long ass chapter with blood, injuries, pain, alongside some denial and awkward moments :))

Life without a fake-boyfriend has become rather, well, quiet.

No more surprise visits with only the excuse “I’m dying” being given, no more lying about the exceptional dates you’ve been on…no more ridiculously attractive doctor on your arm.

No one’s stealing your bagels anymore. That’s a plus.

But work is slow, suddenly. The weight of the secret, sneaking Loki into your office to eat and sleep and rushing him home on lunch breaks for a shower, was, in it’s own twisted way, exciting.

Loki admitting to the fact that it’s been “centuries” keeps floating back into your consciousness. You continually choose not to dwell on it.

Your first day back after Tony gave you a four day weekend to recoup went smoothly, without a single hitch nor a word from your special alien. Asking about him while trying to remain casual didn’t get you far, so you resigned yourself to a quiet day at your desk, sometimes sending Marcus off to make copies for you when even he looks bored.

“I’ve gotta admit,” he pipes up one day from his station at the doorway, “I kinda miss Lucky. Thought maybe I’d get to stop a bad guy, that’d look good on a résumé.”

You shake your head with a laugh, scrolling through a file of release records. “Sorry you’ve got to just watch me all day. Can’t be the most exciting thing.”

“I don’t mind.” He shrugs. You don’t look up.

Another day ticks by, then another, and then a whole week and you still haven’t heard a single bit of accurate information regarding Loki.

Plenty of false information is circulating though, and you pick up bits of pieces around the break rooms and bathrooms.

“Yeah, he got the chair, they wouldn’t have kept him alive.”

“No, they’re rehabilitating him. He’s of use, he’s basically another Thor, don’t you think shield would want to hang onto him?”

“What, make him a new avenger?” The voice by the sinks laughs, and the faucet shuts off. “Just what we need. Another superhero. Jesus, I can’t keep up.”

Break rooms are to be avoided as of late, since you can’t go near another coworker without them jumping you with questions, assuming you must know what happened to him.

“Wish I knew,” you always reply. It’s not exactly a lie.

This fine morning, you pass the god of thunder on the way to the copy room. He gives you a grimace of a smile, lifts a hand, and turns to walk back the way he came before you can call out to him.

Strange. You haven’t seen Thor since the day Loki confessed.

Assuming he’s been busy helping his brother, you hadn’t worried about what he’s been thinking of you. Granted, his impressions of you haven’t been of the greatest, most respectable caliber, from asking you if you were attracted to his brother to watching you rip his brother’s shirt from him while straddling him on a bed—

Yeah, it’d be better not to dwell on what awkwardness Thor may have started to feel towards you. You’d rather not know his thoughts.

Then the next day, Thor is there again. You manage to get in a wave this time, giving him your politest please-don’t-talk-to-me smile and heading for the copy room again.

This time, the god follows you, fidgeting with the strap of mjolnir.

“I would like to talk to you,” he announces, trying to lean casually in the doorway. It doesn’t work well for him, so he straightens up and goes back to fidgeting with the hammer, staring at you.

“Okay…go for it.”

“I’d like to-to—” he breaks off and clears his throat. Finishing your copies, you turn to him with your eyebrows raised.

“Yes?”

“I’d, uh, like to apologize.”

Your brow knits in confusion and you cock your head at him. “What for?”

“Not to you,” Thor clarifies with a nervous laugh. “Sorry. Do I owe you one?”

“No, not really, I guess.”

“I’d like to apologize,” he tries again, “to, uh, to my brother. You know, Loki.”

“Ah.” You nod with a tight smile. “Yeah, I’m acquainted with him.”

Thor lets out a relived laugh at that, tossing mjolnir in the air and catching it. “Of course you are. The only trouble is, I don’t quite know how.”

“And you’re coming to me because…”

“Because you may know this Loki better than anyone.”

“Right.” Biting your lip, you stare at the crease in Thor’s brow. This Loki. A bit of a terrifying thought, really, but he may be right. However unpleasant, your interaction may have been the first semi-normal one Loki had had in a long time. “Well, um, how can I help?”

“How…bad is he?”

That’s a loaded question, and you pretend to look through your papers while you think. “He’s in a bad state,” you venture to say, “he’s definitely hurt. Somebody hurt him, and not just physically.”

“Right. Alright.” Thor nods, tossing his hammer back and forth between his hands. “I can work with that. Sensitivity, I’m getting good at that.”

“Good for you,” you laugh. “Be careful with him. I mean, I don’t know him very well. But I know he’s not one to open up, so…go slow. I’m sure he’ll appreciate the apology.”

In all reality, you have no idea if Loki will give a shit about Thor’s apology, but in theory it sounds like a good thing to happen. It can’t go terribly wrong.

“Just be gentle with him, will you?”

Thor nods. “Of course.”

You rifle through your papers, gaze dropping to them to avoid his. “Where, uh, where is he, by the way?”

Your stomach flips at the sound of the question leaving your mouth, but hopefully you can pass it off as casual curiosity, keeping your gaze trained intently on the papers in your hand.

“The healing wing,” Thor replies with a growing smile. “The two-hundred and third room. I am sure my brother would be happy to see you, my lady.”

“He hates me,” you answer way too quickly, flashing him a forced smile and pushing past him. “He won’t—no, he doesn’t—heh. Just curious. Thanks.”

—

Curious enough to go find him on your lunch break, that is.

Room 203 is a drab white room that reeks of disinfectant, one single bed in the center next to stacks of monitors and a cot-like couch beside it. It’s an improvement from the cell, you’ll give them that, but the pure white gives you a headache the moment you enter, and Loki still looks trapped.

Trapped, and deliberately expressionless upon seeing you sneaking through the doorway.

“Hello.”

He says it carefully, eyes narrowing at you as you wring your hands with a sheepish grin.

“You’re, ah, looking better.”

More like an angry cat who just had to resign itself to the fact that baths are inevitable, but better nonetheless.

“I feel like my limbs have been filled with lead,” Loki replies. He limply tries to lift his arms for emphasis.

“Nothing a god can’t lift, I’m sure,” you laugh, taking the few steps needed to be by his bedside. His piercing gaze tracks every one.

Checking his water jug and the tray of food still untouched by his bedside, you give him a mildly disapproving look, one he certainly disapproves of. “I bet you’d feel better if you ate something.”

“Not interested.” He sinks back into the pillows, watching you with hawk-like precision. “Why are you here?”

You give him a casual once-over, disguising it with a quick look about the room, as well. His arm is in a sling—that’s new, he must be cooperating at least a little if they’ve been treating him.

“Uh, curious,” you decide to answer. “I’m curious, just, y’know, want to make sure you’re being treated right. You healing up?”

Loki nods. Yes, he is healing, technically, but at a glacial pace that’s nearly historic for asgardian abilities. Maybe he had pushed his limits a little too far with all the illusions and covering undressed wounds for so long.

Your not-so-discrete scrutinizing of his shirtless body doesn’t slip his notice and reopens a whole other wound, but he can’t think about that right now. Or ever.

“You’re wearing a sling,” you lamely point out, desperate to fill the silence, and mentally slap yourself.

“That I am,” Loki replies, and can’t help the smug little smirk that starts to turn the corners of his lips. You’re a bit out of sorts—this could be fun. “Did you miss me, darling?”

Your face goes sour, crinkling at the nose. “Don’t call me that.”

Loki breathes deep with a grin, and Dr. Laing takes his place in the bed, lounging much more seductively, injury free and on his side, with an arm draped over his hip.

“You missed me, didn’t you.”

“If you weren’t on the verge of death and in a hospital, I would slap the shit out of you.”

Laing laughs as he fades back into Loki; it’s a tired sound, scratchy and painful and rattling in his chest, but somehow he manages to sound so disdainfully full of himself that you don’t know if you want to soothe his aches or cause him a handful more.

He does look better though. Weak, definitely still as weak as before, but better. Not so gaunt.

“Have you been eating well, then?” You ask, pulling up a chair beside him. “You’ve filled out a little.”

“Define well,” he replies with a quirk of his eyebrow.

“More fast food, I take it.”

“If I wasn’t close to death before, I am now.”

“Well, take what you can get.” You reach over and give him a pat on the arm, just one awful pat before you think better of it and immediately hate yourself for doing that. “So, uh, what was the verdict? On your…y’know. Crimes.”

Loki shifts on his pillows, trying to sit up a little straighter, and his blanket slips further down to his hips as he struggles to with one arm.

“My crimes…right, trying to conquer the planet. Those crimes.”

Without thinking, you lean in and straighten his blankets for him, tugging them back up to lay just under his arm.

His voice dies in his throat, and he stares.

You stare, too, but unfortunately at the bruises littering his ribs and the scar racing right over his heart.

“There you go staring again,” he says, clearing his throat. “Are you quite finished?”

Ripping your gaze from his chest, you meet his narrowed eyes and swallow thickly. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be.”

“Are you…are you using any illusions right now?” You gesture at him, emphasizing his relatively scar-free face.

“I may be,” he replies.

“Why? You should be healing, not hiding anything.”

His eyes roll and he sighs. “I do still have some semblance of a reputation to uphold. Maybe no longer with you, and something must be done about that, but as for the others, they don’t need to know any more.”

“I don’t really care about your reputation,” you tell him, and he laughs as if that were obvious. “Or any image you’re trying to make of yourself, just so you know.”

“Oh, you did miss me, mortal.”

“No,” you snap, “I just…well, I don’t want you getting any more hurt than you are. And…maybe might have been a tiny bit worried.”

The last part you blurt, staring out the window with a burning gaze. You would like him to know, just for the sake of knowing that he’s not necessarily alone in this, but when you say it out loud, like that…

Loki appears to have swallowed something sour, when you glance back at him, and he stares at you.

Confusion, maybe?

Or maybe just shock. Or maybe he has morphine pumping through his veins; that’s a very possible answer.

“Are you on morphine?” You whisper when he doesn’t move, still staring. “That stuff can kill you, y’know. Careful.”

Slowly, he nods, lips parted.

“I…am.”

“On morphine?” You give him a sad smile. “That’s why you’re being friendly. Well, by your standards.”

“No,” he cuts in, cocking his head at you. “Still using an illusion.”

You nod, glancing down at your hands in your lap. “I figured. You can take it off now, I’ve already seen the worst of it.”

Room 203 falls silent for a moment, nothing but the air conditioning whirring in the background as a wave of green energy passes over Loki’s body.

“Just for you,” he clarifies when you look back up at him, “only for you.”

“Of course. I won’t tell.”

Taking a steady breath, you scoot forward in the chair and begin your inspection, ghosting along the parts of him you can, too used to cleaning him up to the point where it’s almost routine. He sits quietly, you point out to him which bits he should really show the others, berate him again for waiting so long to tell the truth.

“I lie,” he murmurs, and you almost catch a smile playing at his lips. “It’s what I do.”

“Roll on your side,” you simply respond. “You’re letting them treat your back, aren’t you?”

He grimaces, but doesn’t move. “In a way.”

“Please? Can I see?”

“I’d rather you didn’t.”

“I don’t know if you realize this,” you exhale, exasperated already, “but I’m a little more trusted here than you are. I can help you, if you’ll let me.”

He squares his jaw, fighting with himself for a second longer—then rolls his eyes yet again and turns to face the other direction, exposing his back to you.

“Loki, come on.”

“I tried,” he cuts in before you can berate him further on the hideous state of his lashed back. “Really, I tried, but they can’t treat them yet. It’s not a flogging like any that have happened on Midgard, believe me.”

The thought of something worse than a flogging makes your toes curl, and you gingerly brush your fingertips over his shoulder before the sight makes you retch; one of the few unmarked patches of skin left on his back.

“You’re still bleeding.”

He nods, face turned from you. “I would imagine so.”

“Bled through your sling…” a quick look around finds the spare cloths and towels in the cabinet under his bed stand, and you take a couple soft rags. “Want me to, y’know, clean you up?”

He’s silent for so long you wonder if he’s fallen asleep, but then he nods, just once.

“I would–I would appreciate that.”

His whole body jerks with every few dabs of the cloth, trying to at least stop the trickling and sop up what’s pooled in the bony dip of his shoulder blade.

You try to tell Loki which cuts desperately need stitches, but he just chuckles dryly and explains that these cuts aren’t meant to heal; that they rip and open any stitching or bandages applied to them. Each attempt to close the wound is predestined to worsen it.

“So you’ll always have these?”

“Until I can find a way to heal them,” he grunts, letting you help him sit up, “yes. It’ll be wonderful for when I’m feeling nostalgic.”

The sling, as it turns out, is covering a much deeper gash than the rest, one that the skin around the edges looks burnt—but weirdly enough, also looks almost crystallized where it should be scabbed. Almost…icy.

You don’t know what to say to that, so you just continue in silence to switch out his sling, sick to your stomach. Nothing you could possibly have to offer, any assistance from anyone on earth could make up for that.

It’s been a couple months now, since New York. There have been no other attacks, clean up has been relatively successful with the camaraderie of the nation. The avengers have been assembled, tested, and proven effective.

Loki’s in custody, no longer hiding, no longer blackmailing you into keeping his secrets while he runs. He hasn’t stepped out of line since, he’s been offering his knowledge, he’s been cooperating.

Yet he’s the only one still bleeding.

“Loki,” you say quietly, glancing at the door, “are they actually helping you?”

He gives his shoulder a testing roll with a wince. “That’s too tight,” he tells you, tugging at the fresh sling. “I’m being treated. Accordingly.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I’ve received the help I need.”

“I don’t believe you,” you reply with a huff, fighting with the knot in his sling. “I mean, has Thor even come to see you? He told me he wants to talk to you, but he’s the only person who’s mentioned you…”

Loki gives you a nod when you finish with the sling, finally lifting his head to look at you with an illusion-less face, ripped flesh around his lips where a cord stitched him silent.

A fist closes around your heart, clenching it and leaving a hollow ache in your chest. Your skin burns at the sight of him.

“You’re staring again.”

“Sorry.”

The stitching was crude, unevenly spread along his upper lip, and the left side has a couple gashes where the skin is torn all the way through. Must’ve had to rip out it himself.

“Don’t victimize me,” he warns. “Don’t make me into something I’m not. Don’t.”

Your jaw clenches, eyes flitting from his lips to meet his gaze. “How do you expect me not to?”

He drops his head back to his pillow, shutting his eyes.

“You should leave.”

“Yeah.” You stand, and he doesn’t open his eyes. The closer you look, his scars are fading again, back under the facade you broke. “I probably should.”

Before you can stop yourself, your hand moves to touch him, just once on the back of the hand that’s draped over his chest. He grabs your wrist before you can.

“I don’t think I trust you,” he whispers, eyes still shut tight.

A lump catches in your throat. “You–you can, you know.”

“I know.” He takes a shaking breath, wincing as his blood soaks the pillows. “That’s why I don’t.”

—

You give him a week.

You hadn’t gotten even half the answers you had gone in there for, leaving with more questions than before, if anything.

It’s hard to tell if he was pleased to see you.

So you give him a week. No visits, no telling him he needs to eat, no mention of him behind his back.

That week passes as normally as it could be.

By the next, you find yourself outside room 203 once again, psyching yourself up to just walk in there and cut right to the chase, not giving him even an inch over you.

But you open the door and he’s on his stomach, fists ripping the sheets as a nurse with a needle stitches the lashings on his back shut.

He’s bleeding. Badly.

“No,” you blurt, “stop, don’t do that–”

Your tongue falls limp in your mouth, and completely against your will, you walk straight to the couch beside the bed and sit.

Nothing you can do will allow you to move, and you spend the next few minutes struggling against invisible bonds, shouting silently into oblivion that you’re making it worse, horrified at the sight of Loki’s serene expression as he stares at you.

You can see it getting worse; each stitch undoes the last, reopening the wound from the beginning so that by the time she’s moved to the next cut, the one just finished is a fresh, open wound.

Even with his face perfectly calm, his gaze stone-set on you, his body betrays him. He jerks with every pierce of the needle, the vein on the side of his neck bulges, and he’s ripped the sheets by his fist.

It looks like pure agony, and you can’t do a single thing about it.

So you sit there, frozen to your seat and silenced, until the nurse gives up and apologizes for another failed attempt, promising that they’re trying to find a type of material that can hold as she tries to soak up the blood. She wraps his torso and he stays silent the entire time, knowing full well that nothing will change, and doesn’t move after she’s left the room.

You take a deep breath as Loki does, and the restraints on your body and tongue fall away.

“What the hell, Loki?!”

“Please don’t yell.”

“I think it’s warranted,” you cry, stomping over to his bedside. “You have a death wish, god, you–you–what the hell were you doing?!”

You’re shaking, half from the horror of having to sit there and watch him endure that, but mostly from rage—he could’ve stopped her.

“Why the hell didn’t you say anything?!”

“Shh…”

“Oh, don’t you shush me, I’m so sick of this–I-I can’t believe you made me watch that—”

A cold hand curls around your wrist and yanks, and you fall to your knees by the bedside, nose to nose with the god of mischief.

“Let me bleed,” he grits out, each word ripped painfully from his throat.

“What?”

“Let me…let me bleed.” This time it’s on an exhale and his eyes close, his hand dropping from your wrist.

You can’t find it in yourself to move away from him.

“Why’d you do that, you idiot?”

Half his face squished into the mattress, he manages a hoarse laugh. “Punishment for my sins.”

“That’s not your call,” you hiss, grabbing him by the arm. “You need to roll over, you’re laying on your injury. C’mon, move.”

He actually obliges and the two of you struggle to roll him onto his uninjured side. It’s not exactly comfortable, for either of you, and you realize after the fact that you had to practically hug the guy in order to haul him onto his side.

That’s probably why he went so stiff.

And…why he’s staring at you as if you’d sprouted wings, trying to catch his breath.

“Sorry,” you mutter, a little out of breath yourself from trying to lift him. “You’re a fucking masochist, you know that?”

“Oh, don’t act so surprised.” He forces out another laugh.

Always laughing.

Always bleeding, always laughing. It’s exhausting, not to mention unbearably irritating when you’re nearly writhing in pain for him.

“Do me a favor, darling.”

“Don’t call me—oh, wait, do you want me to slap you?”

Another dry laugh, but this one sounds truer.

“Don’t make me beg,” he grins, and you almost find yourself wanting to grin back; it’s a breath of fresh air, after all the blood and pain. “Please, would you do this for me?”

“Yeah.” You can’t help the tiny smile you offer back, hidden behind your exasperated sigh. “Yeah, of course.”

“Tie my hair back?”

You swear his cheeks burn bright red, but he doesn’t let his empyrean expression waver, sinking subtly deeper into the pillows and handing you a thin strip of leather.

“Sorry,” he says when you take it, voice muffled, “it only gets matted with blood if I leave it down. I’d cut it, but I can’t be wasting strength on that in this condition—”

“I get it,” you assure him with a smile. “Don’t worry. You’ve already ruined your reputation with me.”

“Right. Thank you for the reminder.”

Biting back a grin, you pull the strip of leather between your hands. “I’ll do it, on one condition.”

“You are unbearably difficult.”

“Thank you.” You lean towards him, a tiny, smug grin just turning at your lips. “You answer any question I ask while I’m doing it. And no lies, trickster.”

He mulls it over for a moment, halfheartedly glaring at your smug self. You do look sure of yourself, leaning onto his bed, eyes narrowed playfully, his leather cord taut between your fingers. Daring him to disagree.

It’s not a bad look. Confidence, he supposes. Power.

The day has reached sunset, and in this moment of weakness Loki can’t help but notice—the light filtering through the lone hospital room window hits your face in a rather flattering way.

That, or maybe it’s been so long since someone smiled at him, laughed with him, teased him—maybe it’s…nice.

Maybe it’s been missed.

Maybe…that would be alright.

―   ―   ―   ―

~ masterlist link in my bio ~

loki tags: @bluediamond007 @himitoshi @drakesfiance @destiel1597 @dangertoozmanykids101 @archy3001 @jcalpha1 @yzssie @skullvieplu @forthesnakeofdragons @skulliebythesea @wegingerangelica @storiesfrommirkwood @agarwaeneth @adaliamalfoy @laurfangirl424@fitzsimmons-is-forever @ladylokimischief @katelinwrites @tarynkauai @polaristrange @loavesofmeat @canadian-ravenpuff-multishipper @lou-makes-me-strong @holyn0vak @chocolatealmondmillk @swtnrholland @kenzieam @jessiejunebug  @the-republic-and-face-of-texas

~ scroll here! ~

@doralupin01 @whitewitchdown @atomiccharmer @falconfeather23435 @babygirlicecream @avengrcs @vethrvolnir2 @bookgirlunicorn @wabisabigrl @myhealingstar @khaleesi-marvel @ei77777 @spacecrumbs @scarlettghost13 @rocks-are-pretty-odd @confessionsofastrugglingteen @easilydistractedwriter @arttasticgreatnessoftheawesome77 @fluffyllamaswearinghats @milktearose @lcyouinhell @h0tshotholland @dontmesswithmemundane @southsidesarcasticwriter @helnik-s @lilith-akemi @fire-in-her-veinz @unlikelysamwinchesteronahunt @mischievousbellerina @kcd15

~ scroll here ~

@mellowgirl01 @lokislilcaribbeanprincess @allthingzhiddleston @scorpionchild81 @lokixme @blue-automne @devilbat @kangaroobunny @end-up-well @planetariumx @sarcsep @mrfandomtastic @amaru163 @im-way-too-many-fandoms @caswinchester2000 @kybaeza @wester-than-west @vintagesunshinebitch @adefectivedetective @poetic-nikolai @moonduhsted @kerri-masson @iamverity @innaminitus @spnbarnes @narcissxblack @woohoney @anxiousamandapanda @padmeisgay @authordreaming13 @lokisironthrone @theunknowinglys

~ scroll here ~

@highfuncti0ningfangirl @epicfallenismine @stubby-toe-589331 @fandomnerdsarecool @retrofantasyland @arch-venus25 @forever-trapped-in-my-dreams @littleredstarfish @marshyrebelcloud @okie–loki @atterodominatus @stfxlou @pandacookieowo @tonakings @shinisenko @tinchentitri @nildespirandum @thefallenbibliophilequote @vodka-and-some-sass @highfunctioningfangirl19 @sadwaywardkid @lokioneshot @brooksaza @wild-honey-piy @ellaenchanted91 @watermelon-lights19 @just-another-romantic @skinny-macncheese @lokisironthrone @rorybutnotgilmore

~ scroll here ~

@toozmanykids @brooklyn-times @nonsensicalobsessions @londonisacountry @peterparkerbabyyy

[jungshookz]

CHAPTER FOUR; The basement.

(1) it begins; (2) a cry for help; (3) the investigation

Warning: Slightly graphic descriptions of violence depicted. Read at your own risk.

                            Player has chosen: [B] Go into the room. 

“okay.” you whisper to yourself, turning to look over your shoulder to make sure that the corridor’s really been replaced by a wall and that you’re not just imagining things, “it’s fine! we’re fine. i’m fine.”

this is fine

it’s fine that the corridor has disappeared

it’s fine that taehyung has also disappeared

and it’s fine that you’re about to willingly go into a dark room in a musty old house by yourself

everything’s fine!

the unfortunate reminder that your match isn’t going to last forever is the thing that finally gets you to lift one foot of the ground

you’d very much not like to be left alone in the dark because you don’t know if you can handle another change in scenery

thump

you swallow the lump growing in your throat as you approach the door, reaching out cautiously before wrapping your fingers around the doorknob

thump

you try to keep your other hand as still as possible as to not blow out the flame

that’s the last thing you need right now

the door creaks lowly as you pull it open, and almost immediately, you’re hit with the warm smell of… well, the only way to describe the smell is swampy

your nose wrinkles in disgust before you take the first step down, the wooden stairs squeaking underneath your feet

thump

you immediately freeze upon hearing another thump and it takes you a couple of seconds to decide whether you should say something or not

it’s probably best if you do

you don’t want to have to go down all the way only to find that there’s no one there because that would just be a complete waste of time and resources

“h-” you find that your throat is dry and you clear it quietly before trying again, “h-hello?”

…

…

…

the silence that you receive in response is unsettling, and you swallow nervously before trying again, only a little louder this time, “hello?”

…

…

…

you glance back towards the door, wondering if you should leave or not

you’re just about to turn and head out when suddenly you hear a quiet-

“y/n?”

it takes a couple of seconds for your brain to process whose voice that is

“nam- namjoon?” you perk up, feeling your heart rate slow a little at the thought of being reunited with him, “is that you?” 

at least now you know he’s safe

you can’t help but wonder if jungkook and jimin have found the others yet

“yeah! i-it’s me!” namjoon responds, his voice barely above a whisper, “where- where are you?”

oh thank GOD

“hold on, i’m coming-” you carefully make your way down the wooden staircase, holding onto the dusty railing so that you don’t trip and fall flat on your face

knocking yourself out would not be the most ideal of situations

when you make it to the bottom of the staircase, you’re ecstatic to see not only that a) it’s really namjoon and that he’s totally fine, and b) he has a flashlight!

it’s the mini one that he keeps attached to his keys

and you’ve made fun of it counTless times because when,.,. when would anyone ever need a mini flashlight.,,. a pocket knife, maybe- but a teeny little flashlight?? whEN??

you’re definitely glad that he decided to keep it even after all the ruthless bullying because a flashlight is way better than your little match

speaking of your match

“oh, shit-” you quickly blow it out when the flame starts to tickle at your fingertips before tossing the burnt stick to the ground

namjoon turns around from where he’s rummaging through drawers and his mouth turns up in a bright smile when he sees that it’s really you, “y/n! you have nO idea how relieved i am to see you-!”

you squint when he shines the light directly at you and you hold your hand up to shield your face, “okay, you’re going to blind me in a second-”

“whoops, my bad-“ namjoon smiles sheepishly before raising it again and shaking it slightly, “but, hey! this is exactly why i keep a mini flashlight as a keychain. you never know when you’ll need it!”

you make your way over to him, peeking into the empty drawer that he opened before looking over at him and jabbing your finger into his arm, “are you okay? any injuries?”

“oh, i’m fine.” namjoon snorts, waving his hand at you, “no scratches or bruises of any kind. are you okay?”

“yeah. i was a little sore when i woke up, but i’m fine now.” you hum, turning to head towards the rocking chair sitting in the middle of the room

you could use a break!

your feet are aching

“also- woah-” your heart rate spikes a little when the chair rocks back a little further than intended and you quickly lean forward to balance yourself, “please tell me you were the one making those thumping noises. i can’t afford another spook.”

“oh, yeah! that was me.” namjoon nods before knocking against the top of the drawers, “these old drawers are pretty hard to open and close, so the back of them kept bumping against the wall every time i shut them.”

“thank god.” you mutter to yourself, leaning back against the chair and tilting your head up before closing your eyes

you would kill for a nap right now

you would kill to be in your own bed right now

it makes you feel a lot better knowing that things are pretty normal down here, though

no strangely large dust particles or weird shadows bouncing here and there

“you know, you’d think that they’d have, like… tools lying around here somewhere. an emergency flashlight, or spare batteries… something.” namjoon grumbles, reaching up to scratch the back of his neck, “i’ve basically flipped this entire basement upside down and i haven’t found anything remotely useful.”

“yeah, same with the bedroom that kook and i woke up in.” you sigh, shaking your head, “actually- jungkook had a flashlight and then afterwards, he found a bat- say, why didn’t you just leave this room?” you open your eyes and tilt your head back down before gesturing towards the staircase

namjoon’s eyes immediately widen and he shakes his head, “are you kidding me? nothing good ever happens when you leave a room. and nothing bad’s happened to me so far, so i say my theory is pretty darn accurate.”

he sits down on the ground in front of you before crossing his legs and shining the flashlight up at you

“i guess that’s a fair point. better to be safe than to be sorry…” you trail off, “this place is… something’s not right about this place.”

“what do you mean?” namjoon’s brows furrow in confusion, “as far as i know, this is just an old, dusty house.”

the memory of what happened literally three minutes ago pops into your mind but you’re not sure whether you should bring it up or not because.,., well, it sounds crazy

but to be fair, this situation is crazy!

“okay, well, i- a second ago-” you lean forward and lower your voice as you speak, “i was with taehyung, and then my match burnt out, and when i re-lit one, he… he was gone. i don’t know how it happened, but he just… disappeared. oh, and-”

“are you sure he didn’t just hide around the corner or something?” namjoon snorts, “knowing tae, he’d take full advantage of being in a house with a bunch of secret doors and dark corners.”

“i mean, he already scared me one time, but- no, this was different. this was… you see, the- the corridor- it was, like, it-” you’re struggling to find the words the explain the situation in a way that it would make sense, but it’s difficult because it literally doesn’t make anY sense at all

how the hell did the corridor disappear?

was there even a corridor in the first place?

but if there wasn’t, then how would you have gotten here?

“actually, i…” namjoon interrupts before pausing, “it’s… i don’t know. eh, it’s probably nothing.”

“what?”

“nothing, i just… i mean, i was probably just imagining things, i don’t know…”

“c’mon, tell me!” you nudge his leg gently with your foot before leaning back against the rocking chair

it’s surprisingly comfy

“it’s just that-” namjoon sits up straight and clears his throat, “okay, you know that state you’re in when you’re half-asleep and half-awake at the same time? like- kinda like when your alarm goes off in the morning, and your body just goes on auto-pilot to shut it off- you’re not fully aware that you’re shutting it off, but your body’s just doing it- you know, you’re conscious but also not that conscious-”

“uh-huh-“

“yeah, so i was kind of in and out of it before i fully woke up, and at one point, i swear that yoongi was in the room with me.” namjoon frowns, “like- i was sitting in the rocking chair when i fully woke up, but before that, when i was semi-conscious, i was sure that yoongi was lying a couple feet away from me right over there.” he turns over his shoulder to point towards the area by the bottom of the staircase, “he was on his stomach with his head turned towards me- well, then i passed out again, and when i opened my eyes the next time, he… he wasn’t there anymore. i just- he was there! it wasn’t just a bunch of clothes or a couple of empty cardboard boxes piled up together- yoongi was here. i know he was.”

yeah

if you ever need more proof of this house being not quite a normal house… this would make solid evidence

you’re not really sure how to respond to namjoon

you don’t wanna tell him that stranger things have happened because you knoW he gets nervous really easily

and you don’t wanna have to deal with a jittery namjoon anD a weird-ass house at the same time

there’s only so much you can handle!

“we… should probably get out of here.” you clear your throat before getting up off the rocking chair and dusting your bum off, “there’s no use in waiting for the others to come for us… plus, i said that we were all supposed to go back to our meeting spot in twenty minutes, and i’m pretty sure it’s nearing twenty minutes-”

“yeah, i guess you’re right-” namjoon gets up off the ground and blinks owlishly at you when you stick your hand out, “are… are we going to hold hands?”

“what?” you snort, “no. gimme the flashlight-”

“why do you get to lead the way?” namjoon pouts, pulling his hand away before you get a chance to snaTch the flashlight from him

“oh, i’m sorry-” you step aside before gesturing up towards the door, “would you like to do the honours, brave knight?”

“maybe i would-” namjoon looks up at the door and immediately clams up

it’s

uh

it’s pretty dark out there

he immediately hands you the flashlight and you roll your eyes playfully

yeah

that’s what you thought

“so, do you know where we’re going?”

“i don’t, because this house is a literal maze, but i’m sure we’ll be able to make it back to the main-” you step out from the room, tilting your head curiously when you realise that the wall has disappeared and the corridor leading back to the kitchen has mysteriously returned, “…area.”

you keep quiet as you take a couple of steps forward, sticking your arm out and waving it around in the open air to make sure that this isn’t a weird illusion or anything

huh

it’s brighter now because of the moonlight streaming into the kitchen, but…

what the hell?

“that’s… huh.” you mutter to yourself before shaking your head, “very… huh.”

“what’s the matter?” namjoon asks before turning to look over his shoulder down the long, dark hallway

he doesn’t know where that leads to but he certainly doesn’t want to find out

he shudders before wrapping his arms around himself

hopefully you don’t decide to take that route

you turn around to shine the flashlight on namjoon, “well, okay, i know i’m going to sound crazy, but just bear with me for a second- well, there was a corridor, you see- this corridor, to be specific- but when my match died and tae disappeared and all that, the corridor actually-” you suddenly stop talking upon noticing a speck of dust float past namjoon’s head and you follow it with your eyes warily

“actually what?” namjoon frowns, scrunching his nose when the dust tickles the tip of it, “why’d you stop talking?”

“just… wait…” you whisper, following the speck with your light

you don’t quite know how to feel about the dust yet… because the last time you saw dust, it led you here

…hey, wait!

it led you here!

to namjoon!

huh

maybe the dust is like,.,. some kind of a guide or something?

maybe it’s trying to help you get out of this place!

that’s definitely a good thi-

“woAH-!”

all of a sudden, namjoon collapses to the ground, a groan of pain slipping past his lips when his forehead smacks against the floor, “what the fu-!”

everything seems to happen so rapidly and you don’t even get a chance to react before he’s suddenly being dragged backwards by an unknown force, your eyes widening in horror at the sight

“Y/N! HELP ME!” namjoon hollers, digging his nails into the floorboard in a poor attempt to anchor himself and aVOID being pulled back by whatever has its grips around his ankles

“NAMJOON!” you immediately fall to your knees before scrambling forward, the flashlight clattering to the ground as you reach over to grab onto namjoon’s hands

he’s holding onto your hands so tightly to the point that you can barely feel them but you’re gripping onto his hands just as hard

you manage to get back up onto your feet, though you’re still crouching down slightly

being on your feet gives you a little more leverage and you feel like you have a better grip on namjoon’s hands

you wince when you feel the muscles in your arms starting to strain from how strenuous this is, “h-hold on, namjoon! hold on!”

you curse to yourself when you end up falling back on your knees, but you quickly put one leg up to try to pin yourself down to the spot

all of a sudden, whatever’s in the darkness yanks namjoon back particularly roughly and you quickly fumble to trap both of namjoon’s wrists under your armpits so that you can grab onto his forearms  

“i’ve got you, i-”

it’s only a second later that you hear a sickening CRACK and consequently feel both of namjoon’s arms giving out slightly

“oh, GOD-!” you feel sick to your stomach when you realise that both of namjoon’s arms have dislocated from their sockets because of how hard he’s being pulled in both directions

“MY ARMS!” namjoon sobs hoarsely, his face scrunching up in discomfort, “IT HURTS- OH, GOD, IT HURTS- Y/N, HELP ME-”

“j-just hold on, namjoon, don’t- NO!”

namjoon’s arms slip from your grip before slumping onto the ground, and before you know it-

“Y/N, PLEASE! PLEASE, I DON’T WANNA DIE-!”

you catch one final glimpse of his face before he completely disappears into the darkness

“NAMJOON!” your chest rises and falls rapidly as you grab the flashlight up off the ground and quickly get back up onto your feet, the sounds of namjoon’s helpless screams and his body being violently tossed around echoing down the dark hallway

What do you want to do?

> [A]: Follow Namjoon! There’s no time! You have to save him!

> [B]: You need help! You clearly can’t save him alone! Go find the others now! 

Place your vote here.

You have one hour.

Good luck.

[oldguardhc]

Old Guard hc #56

Prompt number: 17 - “Give me a minute or an hour”

Fandom: The Old Guard

Rating: PG-13

Warnings/Tags: joe x nicky, fluff

AN: @flamingbluepanda encouraged me to write a Psych AU for this prompt

Joe cranes his neck to get a better look at the body. The puncture wounds are interesting, each one spaced at least four inches apart, all at differing angles, both in entrance and position meaning whatever killed this man wasn’t just a random attack. If they were closer, Joe would have thought they were bite marks and maybe they are, but the last time he checked, there were no animals in the ocean or on land with a bite-radius that large and teeth spaced that far apart. At least, there’s nothing alive today that has a 34-inch bite-radius.

“You getting something, Mr. Kaysani?” Chief Freeman asks.

Can it be? The bite marks are looking to be more of a match the longer he stares at them. “I’m…getting something,” Joe says, snatching the yellow pad and a pen from Andy and ignoring the small huff of irritation she lets out.

He starts with a brief outline, it’s been a while since he’s drawn one of these and he has to use small strokes to get the head right.

“Wait, I think this is a boating accident,” Andy says, and Joe briefly looks up to see her point at the body. “Head trauma from…from falling off the boat. Hit a motor maybe?”

The eyes are tricky. Should they be looking straight or at the viewer? Joe decides the viewer for a more startling effect.

“The wounds on his back, they were caused by a…by an industrial crab trap. Yes, a crab trap. Or a whale. A lonely whale that got lost from its pod and traveled East, West. Saw our floating guy from below, thought it was a seal and…you know, had a little chomp.”

The teeth are definitely not his best work. The teeth to mouth ratio are way off and they’re definitely not as uniform in real life like he drew them. It’ll have to do for now. He adds a little shading to the drawing, giving it a more realistic appearance.  

“A whale?” Booker slowly asks, when it seems like Andy is finally done with her explanation.

“What’s your guy got?” Nicky immediately shoots back, coming to his partner’s defense.

Joe can practically hear Booker’s smug look, “Watch and learn, Genova. Watch and learn.”

“Alright Kaysani, show me what you got,” Chief Freeman says.

Joe blows on paper and holds the pad to his chest, hiding his drawing from a peaking Andy. “First of all, I would like to say that this is not my best work. It’s a very rough sketch, the shading isn’t finished, the torso is a little plump and the teeth are…they’re not completely accurate. If I had more time, I would’ve definitely given them more shape, more individual characteristics. If I had my druthers, I'd have done this in charcoal.” Booker gives him an understanding nod and Joe would high-five him if he was standing right next to him, “You know what I’m talking about! Almost nothing beats a good charcoal drawing-“

“Mr. Kaysani!” Chief Freeman interrupts, crossing her arms and tapping her feet. “The verdict?”

Joe dips his head in apology, “Yes! Look, the key was in the puncture wounds,” Joe says, using his pen to point at said wounds. “They’re very unique puncture wounds. So unique in fact, that I was able to draw a semi-accurate profile of our attacker.” Chief Freeman gives him the look that says ‘Well? Get on with it’ and Joe turns the pad around and smirks at Andy.

Both Andy and Chief Freeman do a double-take and lean forward to get a better look. He resists the urge to flinch. It’s really not his best work and it shows. After a second of intense scrutiny, Chief Freeman shakes her head with a slight scoff and stalks off.

“Chief? Where are you going?” Joe calls out, still holding his drawing up. The culprit is right here! Well, not here here but here on paper. She’s halfway up the beach already and doesn’t even turn around to acknowledge he spoke. Great.

“Nice work, Kaysani,” Andy says, snatching her pen and pad back, a pleased look on her face, and runs to catch up to the Chief.

“A dinosaur?” Booker asks, mouth downturned, fingers working the buttons in his sleeves to roll them back down to a more professional length. No, we were supposed to get fish tacos after this. “Jesus, Joe. You couldn’t have shot for something in the last million years?”

Joe places his hands on his friend’s chest and steps in his way, “Give me a minute, or an hour to prove it was a Tyrannosaurus rex.” Booker shakes his head, the disappointed look doing funny things to Joe’s stomach, pats Joe on the shoulder, and steps around him to leave.

Great, just great. Even his best friend didn’t believe him. Joe rubs his temples, he can feel a faint throb and he hopes that it’s just a regular throb and not a foreshadow for a migraine.  

“I thought the drawing was pretty good.”

Joe drops his hand and turns around. Nicky has that faint smile on his lips that Joe’s still trying to figure out if it means he likes Joe or likes likes Joe. He’s already made it obvious on multiple occasions how he feels about Nicky.

With Nicky’s looking at him like that, it’s so easy to smile. “Thanks!” And because no one else is here to witness his humiliation, he makes his smile a little more flirty. “You know, I can always use a live model.”

Nicky cocks an eyebrow at him, the faint smile still there, maybe even a little wider if Joe’s not delusional. “I’m going to go calm Andy.”

“Don’t die, I’d hate to miss your pretty face.” A light blush creeps up Nicky’s neck as he nods and jogs back up the beach.

Joe doesn’t stare at Nicky’s ass. He doesn’t, because that would be rude and Nicky is more than a beautiful body.

It’s a good thing the only witness is a dead body.

Joe turns back to the dead body. “Definitely not a boating accident.”

—

Joe slumps against the growing mound of dirt. He’s exhausted. He feels like he completed an Iron Man and climbed Mount Everest twenty times. Who knew being shot at could be so draining? To make matters worse, the throb from this morning was a foreshadow. His eyeballs are going to explode any second now with how strong his head is pounding. He digs his knuckle into the valley between his eyes until it hurts, it’s a different hurt than the one going on behind his eyes though, that it feels strangely good.

Joe sighs, at least one good thing happened today; he was right about the body. It’s a real shame he doesn’t have ‘Use a 20-year-old Tyrannosaurus rex model built by a 9-year-old Booker to solve a murder case’ on his bingo card. He would’ve been the only one to mark it down.

A bottle of water is placed on his lap and Joe opens his eyes, a ‘thanks, Booker’ on his tongue. Except, it’s not Booker standing above him, it’s Nicky.

Joe musters up the best smile he can despite feeling like death has crawled its way inside him through his eyes. “What are you doing here?”

“Your head’s been hurting all day,” Nicky says, crouching down, a small frown on his face. He pulls two packets out of his pocket and holds them out to Joe. One’s red and the other’s green. “I didn’t know if it was a regular headache or a migraine, so, I got both.”

Joe stares at the two packets. Nicky bought him medicine. Nicky saw that he was hurting and brought him something to feel better. Joe swallows the lump in his throat, reaches out for the red packet. “Thank you,” Joe says, brushing his fingers with Nicky’s.

The corners of Nicky’s lips tick upwards, “No problem.”

Joe tears the packet open and dumps both pills in his hands before tossing them into his mouth. Nicky has the bottle of water open and held out for him and Joe takes it with a grateful nod. Even though he swallows the pills on the first gulp, he finishes the whole bottle. Only when he’s done, does he remember that Booker might want some too.

“I gave him a bottle too,” Nicky says and that’s a sign, right? That has to be a sign of how amazing they would be together. “The pharmacist said those pills should work in 15 minutes.” Joe nods, he’s intimately familiar with the wonders of Excedrin. He would’ve taken one around lunch if they hadn’t been following another lead at the time.

“Thank you,” Joe repeats, closing his eyes again even though he wants nothing more than to stare into Nicky’s gorgeous blue eyes. He hears and then feels Nicky settle beside him, no doubt getting his suit all dirty, and he’s doing that for Joe.

“Is there anything else I can do?”

Joe shakes his head, “You’ve helped a lot already. We just have to wait now.” Joe resumes his earlier ministrations, digging into that spot that hurt but was a better hurt than the one inside.

Cold fingers slide over his own, “Don’t press too hard, you’ll hurt yourself,” Nicky chides.  

Joe grabs Nicky’s wrist and guides those cold fingers until they’re covering his eyes. Relief instantly hits and Joe presses those cold fingers harder against his eyes.

“Should’ve gotten an ice pack,” Nicky mutters to himself.

“S’fine, your hands are working.”

They sit in silence as they wait for the pills to kick in. Every few minutes, Nicky switches hands and Joe doesn’t even have to hold his wrist anymore. He knows how hard to press and it’s nice. It’s really nice. He can almost ignore Booker digging in the background and the occasional splash of dirt that rains down on both of them.

“Never thought my poor circulation would come in handy,” Nicky jokes when the migraine finally subsides.

Joe grins and reaches out to press a kiss to both palms. “They were lovely.”

“Please tell me I’m not going to have to listen to you two flirt the entire night,” Booker calls out from the hole. “I don’t want you two ruining my discovery.”

Excuse me?  

“Your discovery?” Joe asks, crawling over the mound to look down at Booker. He’s made an impressive amount of progress. Probably only six more feet before they hit the skull.

Booker stabs the shovel into the dirt, both of his hands coming up to rest on his waist. “I’m digging, so yes, my discovery.”

Joe makes an outraged sound, “I found the right hole!”

“It wasn’t a hole! I’m making it a hole!” To prove his point, Booker picks up the shovel and tosses the next scoop at Joe.

Joe should’ve seen that one coming.

“Alright, I’m going to go home. Have fun digging, boys,” Nicky says and when Joe turns around, he’s brushing dirt off himself. “I’ll see you later?”

Joe nods his head probably a little too enthusiastically, “Definitely. Thank you again for the pills. I’d still be dying if you hadn’t have come back.”

Nicky smiles, the small one, and one day Joe’s going to see if he can get him to grin ear-to-ear, lips stretched so wide his cheeks will hurt. But not today. Today, he’s going to make history by being the first Psychic Paleontologist.

Nicky dips his head again and yeah, Joe hates to see him go but he sure as hell loves to watch him leave.

That ass is definitely better than a charcoal drawing.

A new spray of dirt rains down on him and that’s it.

It’s a shame no one is there to hear Booker’s loud yelp as Joe tackles him to the floor. Oh well, it’ll live rent-free in Joe’s mind forever.

[nanoland]

Title: Besyd the scarcety of bread amowngst us

Fandom: Supernatural 

Pairing: Crowley/Dean Winchester

Summary: In which Dean asks a question.

Warnings: Crowley being Extremely traumatized and kind of oblivious to that fact + SPN demons being SPN demons (i.e. remorseless bodysnatchers) + Dean being his casually misogynistic self + graphic descriptions of starvation + exhibitionism (sorta?) + sexually explicit content because this was MEANT to be straightforward smut and then Crowley happened, the prick.

Also on AO3!

0  

“So how come you aren’t a hot chick?”

The glass stills an inch from Crowley’s pale lips. “I humbly beg your pardon?”

It’s late. The bar’s quiet. He doesn’t need Dean to repeat himself. Just a moment to decide on a response.

Well on the way to utterly shit-faced, Dean gestures vaguely, meaninglessly. “You offer people stuff. Then, ten years later, you drag ‘em to Hell. And – and they know that’s what’s gonna happen if they make a deal with you. Which means that you gotta be real fuckin’ persuasive. Which you are. Grade A Bullshit Artist and don’t I know it. But... uh, what was I gonna… yeah, wouldn’t it be easier, right, just way easier if you were a hot chick?”

Crowley can tell he’s not done, so he keeps his silver tongue behind his faintly yellowed teeth for the moment.

While Dean is usually delightful company, in his surly, macho way, this evening there’s an uncommonly obnoxious edge to everything he says. That almost certainly means his insecurities over what he’s been letting Crowley do to his arse lately are acting up.

Understandable. Still annoying.

So Crowley’s more than willing to let his favourite human dig himself a wee bit deeper before pouring boiling tar into the pit.

After quickly throwing back the last of his drink, Dean goes on: “Now, I didn’t go to some dickslurp business school. I ain’t that brand of asshole. But I’ve seen enough beer ads in my time to have an idea of how marketing works. You got something you want people to buy? Fastest way is to get a hot chick in a bikini to hold it up. Because guys have most of the money in this shitty world of ours and guys think with their dicks. I know I do. So why did you decide to possess someone who looks like a balding, middle-aged banker going through a stressful divorce? That ain’t enticing. That ain’t capturing anyone’s interest. Y’know?”

“Mm,” says Crowley, and stands up.

“Fuck’re you doing?” Dean slurs, watching him take off his tie.

“Ever heard of the Seven Ill Years, Squirrel?”

“Nope. Seriously, what’re you doing?”

Draping his overcoat over the back of his chair along with his tie, Crowley sets about taking off his jacket. “‘The Seven Ill Years’ refers to a particularly shitty time in early modern Scotland; the 1690s.”

He tugs off his costly leather shoes and places them side-by-side under his chair. “I was in my… early thirties at the time, I think. Thirty-two? Maybe thirty-one. Whatever.”

Dean is gaping now. He’s never seen Crowley without his outer layers, much less the growing slice of exposed chest as Crowley unbuttons his shirt.

“For a lot of complicated reasons relating to oceanic thermohaline circulation, solar activity, and a few ill-timed volcanos, the weather turned rotten. These days, it’s called the Little Ice Age. Us pigshit stupid peasants who lived through it didn’t know anything about all that. All we knew was that it was freezing bloody cold and the crops kept dying.”

“Dude,” Dean hisses, red-faced as Crowley sets his shirt alongside his jacket and overcoat. “Stop it! We’re going to be thrown out!”

“No. Look around. Is anyone paying attention to us? Precisely. We’re invisible to them at the moment, Squirrel. One of my little tricks.”

“Oh. Okay, that’s good. But that’s still not an excuse to take your fucking pants off in public oh my God oh my God!”

They’re expensive pants and Crowley takes care to fold them before putting them down. “To cut a long story short; famine struck. And famine, it’s…”

Crowley pauses, thinking, ignoring Dean’s pathetic attempts not to gawk at his dick.

“It’s hard to describe famine to someone who hasn’t lived through one,” he says eventually. “Language – English, at least – isn’t equipped to convey what it feels like to be so hungry you’ll try to boil and eat someone else’s shoes. Then someone else’s children. Then your own children. There are no words for it. Or, if in some distant corner of our monstrous universe there are, then they’re words that would drive a human raving mad to speak them.”

Naked now but for his black socks, Crowley scratches his stubble. “Sometimes I think that’s why I got on so well in Hell.”

He sits back in his chair. Folds his legs. Taps his fingers on the side of his empty glass. “Don’t get me wrong; having someone cut open your lungs, fill them with scorpions, and sew them up again isn’t fun. But – how can I put this? – you can process it. You can grapple with it. You know why you’re suffering; because you’re in Hell, and that’s what Hell is for. It makes sense. What doesn’t make sense is going about your everyday life and watching all the people around you – the baker, the priest, the prettiest girl in the village – go about theirs while they turn into walking skeletons. And knowing they didn’t do anything to deserve it. Couldn’t have done anything to deserve it, because no crime, no matter how vile, warrants that kind of punishment.”

Dean says nothing.

After a moment, Crowley pulls himself from the dark, sucking well of memory to add, “Anyway, to answer your question; I don’t want to be a hot chick because a. I’m a man and b. hot chicks are skinny, and I will cheerfully burn this world to the ground before I endure living in a hungry body ever again.”

He glances down at his unclothed meat suit and smiles proudly, running a hand up one of its thick thighs. “Also – y’know – I personally think this long-deceased lad of mine is sexy as Hell.”

Gazing at his shoulder, Dean says roughly, “Didn’t know you had tattoos.”

“Oh. Those. Yeah. Can’t stand them. Worst decision the stupid bastard ever made.”

“I think they’re kinda cool.”

“Do you? Well, you do have incredibly bad taste so perhaps that’s not surprising. Now, are you going to get over here and put that erection to good use?”

Oh, bless him; he’s adorable when he squirms.

“Here?” Dean asks, eyes wide.

“Here.”

He says it like a challenge, for Dean can never resist one of those. Immediately, those wide eyes become narrow and determined.

The boy stands. Looms over Crowley, who casually flicks both their glasses to the floor and moves to sit on the cool wooden table. It’s clean, more or less, thanks to Dean (for once) agreeing to follow Crowley to a semi-respectable establishment.

“These hands,” Crowley murmurs, running them across Dean’s broad chest, “don’t have a single callous or scar. See? Soft as butter. Not a single day’s honest work, either of them.”

Dean swallows. Leans in to kiss him, hesitant and gentle.

Contrary to popular belief, Crowley likes gentle. Or, more accurately, Crowley likes being pampered.

He goes on: “And these legs…”

A groan escapes Dean’s lips as one presses up against his crotch.

“…these legs haven’t walked more than ten miles, collectively, since I moved in. No muscles. No blisters on the undersides of their feet. Not so much as a splinter.”

“Jesus,” Dean mumbles, drawing him in and latching onto his neck.

“And this stomach is never empty. Never even close. Never once forced to digest anything that isn’t purely, perfectly delicious. I treat my meat suits better than most people treat their family heirlooms.”

“Crowley. Fuck.”

He squeezes Dean’s arse and growls, “Because this is my reward, Dean. I won this. This softness, this safety. This nurtured, nourished flesh. I endured the seventeenth century and all humanity’s horrors. Endured my mother. Endured Hell. Built myself a reputation and a kingdom. All for this. And isn’t it wonderful? Say that it is, Dean.”

“Yeah,” Dean moans, even though he can’t understand a word; Crowley slipped into Gaelic a while ago.

(The things Crowley wants to tell Dean and the things Crowley wants Dean to know are categories that rarely overlap.)

Crowley takes Dean’s leaking cock in hand.

“Say I’m beautiful.”

Dean’s knees buckle as he whimpers, so Crowley wraps an arm around his narrow, underfed waist.

“Say you love me.”

Dean comes in his palm, gasping and cursing.

“Say you love me more than anyone else.”

“I’m guessing that was all Scottish dirty talk?” says Dean when he has his breath back. “You were – what? Calling me your bitch?”

Crowley smirks, licks the sweat off Dean’s jaw, and gives his backside a pat before reaching for his clothes. “None of your business. Go get me another drink, would you? Ta.”

 the end

NOTES: The title is taken from a quote found in Karen Cullen’s ‘Famine in Scotland: the ‘Ill Years’ of the 1690s’ (you can find extracts via googlebooks). Yes, canonically Crowley WOULD have been about thirty when this happened. Just in case his origin story wasn’t horrific enough wheee :D

[jpegjade]

The Blind Date - Spencer

Request: I'd love one where the reader has dated around with no success (terrible tindr dates, disappointing connections through work, etc). Somehow her and Spence cross ways and go out. He treats her really well and looks at her like she's his world. Shes been dying to have a good man look at her like she's precious and melts at it 🥰

hey hi hello! im working though my requests lists faster than i thought lmao. i do have some ideas that i’ll work through but if you have an idea, my asks are still open. 

Warnings: if you hate dad!spencer, then you will hate part of this. But this is fluffy tbh. 

“Hey babe, look what I found!” You said, flipping through a stack of polaroids hidden away in another pointless stack of papers and other items. 

It was time to clean out the attic since all those dusty boxes were really filling up the space. It had been your dream to build a cave up there just for yourself, away from both your husband and your three kids. 

Spencer climbed up the stairs, squinting to see where you were as his eyes adjusted to the terrible lighting.

 “What did you find? Aside from Asbestos and lung disease… Are you sure you want to build something in here? I can’t imagine it being comfortable considering the way the house is made. There’s nothing to cool you down in the summer months and who knows how winter will fare here.” Spencer looked deeply concerned. 

“Spence, honey, would you come and look at this?” You held up the first ever picture you took of him, your first date written on the back of it in metallic sharpie with the words “I really like him…” in your handwriting. 

“‘I really like him?’ What’s that supposed to mean?” Spencer asked, bending over to look over your shoulder at the photo. In the photo, Spencer was giving the most awkward smile, one hand in the air in a semi-wave motion. He looked like his mom asked him for a photo and he was just doing it to make her happy. 

“I wrote this on our first date… I wasn’t even sure about going on the date before that night…” 

**10 years ago**

“Just one date.” JJ said. “You don’t have to love him but I know you’ll like him.” 

Your friend was insistent that she could set you up on the perfect blind date but you weren’t convinced. You went on so many different Bumble dates, had Tinder hook-ups, and even accepted John from marketing’s proposition to take you on a date last week. It ended in you faking food poisoning and having JJ pick you up from the restaurant because you didn’t have the heart to tell him that you didn’t want to hear about his mom’s weird growth that she needed to get checked out. He was supposed to be showing you pictures when you got back to the table but you knew that was going to definitely give you food poisoning. 

“JJ, if this goes south, I’m just going to swear off dating for a while.” You said, agreeing over the phone. 

“Great. He’ll pick you up at 5 pm for dinner and a horror movie tonight.” JJ said, hanging up before you could protest. 

A horror movie for a first date? What did she expect from you? You knew this wasn’t going to go well but you promised her that you would try. 

He was 15 minutes late. He kept you waiting for 15 minutes and for what? He better have a good explanation. In a huff, you swung your front door open to see if his car was even outside and you came face to face with a messy haired brunette with his arm raised to knock. 

“Hi.” He said, arm still frozen in the air. “I’m Dr. Spencer Reid.”

“What kind of medical doctor shows up late to a first date?” You asked, crossing your arms over your chest. 

“Well, you see, I’m not that kind of doctor but that’s a common assumption. I have three Ph.Ds so you can say I’m more of a specialist in scholarly knowledge and I get to put it into practice with my job as a profiler at the FBI, which is how I got here. Not being in the FBI, per say, but being in the FBI with JJ. As to why I’m late, I was given information that I blindly followed from this other agent, Derek Morgan, which I probably should not have followed.” 

You noticed that Dr. Spencer Reid hadn’t taken a single breath until now. 

“Was that advice to piss me off before you even met me, Doctor not a doctor?” You said, still annoyed. 

You knew JJ had talked about Spencer before when you guys met for breakfast or girls’ night out. You didn’t think about what he looked like until now, though. He was pretty but not so pretty that he knew it. It was more like an understated thing. 

“He said that pissing you off in the beginning would give me a better chance of being able to woo you with my charm and charisma, to quote him exactly. I now realize the flaw in my thinking was that he would be correct and misunderstanding that he was kidding because JJ didn’t tell me you would be so beautiful and while I have a genius IQ, I’ve been told that I lack the social skills needed to accurately assess a situation where I have a beautiful woman staring at me like you want to punch me but also intrigued at the sight of me.” Spencer stopped and realized he still had his arm in the air and dropped it by his side. 

You stared at him quietly. You weren’t sure what to make of him but you did know that you were getting hungry. Your stomach growled loudly. 

“You’re a talker.” You said. “I appreciate that.” 

You turned to lock up the front door before dropping your keys in your bag. Walking to the car, he opened the door for you before you could put your arm out. You looked over at him, stunned. Other guys you “dated” didn’t do anything like that. Yeah, it was a simple thing but it was something that mattered at least a little bit to you.

“Wait.” You said, pulling a small Polaroid camera out of your bag. “Smile for the camera.” 

Spencer smiled, showing all of his teeth, and raised his hand in a wave. You hoped to god that wasn’t his real smile as you snapped the picture. The polaroid came out nicely, his face well lit, and you noticed that in the light, his purple shirt looked nice with the black skinny tie and black pants. 

“I like him” You wrote on the back of the polaroid in metallic marker before getting in the car.

The rest of the night was a breeze. Dinner was filled with intelligent conversation and responses beyond what any of your Tinder “Dates” could comprehend. He ordered the nicest wine on the menu and you nearly choked on your water. So he had money, check. That meant he wasn’t attempting to live off his friends’ couches like the last guy you went on a date with. He let you order whatever you wanted and didn’t care about how much or how little you ate. He didn’t make snide comments about how you should “slow down on the wine.” He didn’t want to make you run out of the building. He made you want more. Of him, of the night, of him. Oh and him. 

The movie was filled with jumpscares and things that were generally uncomfortable to watch but Spencer remained unphased. In fact, he nervously slipped his hand into yours about 20 minutes into the movie and you stayed like that the whole time. When you got particularly scared, he would talk to you in your ear and tell you about the inaccuracies of what was happening, straightening out the facts. As if any of the movie was logical, he kept talking to you like everything could make sense, and it calmed you down. You even found yourself leaning into him by the end of the night. 

When he took you home, that was a bittersweet ending to something you hoped would blossom. 

“Do you...” You started. 

“Can I...” He said at the same time. 

Mumbling a chorus of “you first,” you paused long enough for him to say it. 

“I enjoyed spending time with you tonight. When JJ said it was a blind date with her friend, I didn’t think I would enjoy it as much as I did. I don’t have the best luck with people so I thought I might mess this up too. I can only hope you had as much fun as I had...” He trailed off. 

“I did.” You said a little too quickly. “I mean... I enjoyed your company tonight.” 

There was a weird pause and you waited for him to do it but he kept staring at you. You had to do it, you decided. So you did. You kissed him. And at first he was tentative but then he really got into it. 

“Okay, wow.” You said, finally breaking away. “Do you want to come in? I don’t really want this to end...” You said. 

“Yes.” 

****** 

Spencer was sitting on the floor next to you as you recounted your thoughts on that night to him. Sure, he remembered it but he didn’t remember it like you remembered it and that was what kept him intrigued. 

“Y/n,” Spencer said, looking over at you. “I was 15 minutes late because I was standing at the door practicing my opening line.” 

You looked back at him and you knew the look he was giving you, the one he had given you every time you saw him since that first night. He was staring at you like you were the only thing that mattered. 

“What had you planned to say?” You asked, completely curious. 

“Baby, are you on fire? Because you’ve got me all hot.” He said, looking down at his hand, which you suddenly noticed was holding yours. You were so caught up in telling the story that you didn’t realize what was happening around you. 

You burst out laughing. “Spencer, that’s the worst thing I’ve ever heard you say.” 

He smiled and looked up at you through his glasses. When your laughter finally died down, you were able to concentrate on him again. He was staring at you in that weird way again. Ever since your first date, he always gave you that look. 

“What?” You said, still smiling. 

“Nothing in particular.” He said, looking over at the staircase. Your 7-year-old was climbing up the stairs. 

“Mommy? Daddy? What’s going on? Did daddy tell a funny joke?” She asked, walking over to sit in her father’s lap. 

You looked over at them as she got comfortable. He kissed the top of her head and went back to staring at you. 

“Yes but it’s a joke you won’t get until you’re much older. And one you won’t hear until you’re much older, if ever.” You said poking her belly. 

“Hey, why don’t we go fix lunch?” Spencer said, putting your daughter back on her feet and standing up. 

“That sounds good.” You said, thinking about how hungry you were. 

Standing up, Spencer stopped you for a second while your daughter climbed down. 

“Can we come back up here once the kids are asleep and go through more of those photos? I remember each one you’ve taken of me but I want to know why. You never explain, even now.” He pulled you into a tight hug. 

“Sure. I have enough stories to fill hours of dates.” 

“You know I loved you since that first photo, right?” He said, kissing your cheek. 

“Really? You’ll have to tell me about your version of some of the dates one day.”

_____________

Okay we had a flashback sequence for this one. i tried to keep it simple so there wasn’t a lot of flashing back and forth. I wanted to make that as long as possible bc idk if anyone wants more, honestly. 

ANYWAY HELLO im so sorry for my longass one-shots

Tags: 

@winchestertardis

@ancailinaerach

[chick-from-nz]

Paper, Scissors, Rank (Ch: 9)

CHARACTER/PAIRING: Modern!Carrillo x Army!OC (eventually) 

WARNINGS: maybe some swearing, military slang, more military talk,  spelling and grammatical errors. Flippy floppy points of view and tenses. Could be very OOC/AU for some. Carrillo may not be narcos accurate as this is an AU. Some OC x OC. awkwardly written moments. Sexual tension. some NSFW content. Mentions of death,  child endangerment, TW: car crash. 

AUTHORS NOTE: ok so this chapter went a little darkish at the start and then very different at the end. not gonna lie a little bit giddy and proud of this chapter, hope you all enjoy, sorry for the wait between the chapters. would also love to hear any predictions about where the fic may go.

WORD COUNT: 5.5K  

CHAPTER:  9 OF ?

TAG LIST (OPEN): @girlpornparadise @1zashreena1 @xxidontwikeitxx @nicke0115 @allalngthewtchtower @lettherebrelight

** **

                                                  ~15 years ago~

“Ashlyn honey, come on, we don’t want to be late ”  her mother, Teressa, yelled out from the bottom of the stairs, laughing softly to herself when she heard the mad rush of footsteps on the wooden floors before seeing her eight year old daughter running towards her with all her might, only to halt army style and stare up at her with wide eyes.  There was not a single soul that could deny the resemblance between the two of them, they shared the striking green eyes and red-brown hair of the Sayer family, both had a boisterous take no shit attitude and the same little quirks and tells when they were upset. Which Teressa could tell was the case with her daughter right this minute.  She reached down and pulled her young daughter into her embrace, balancing her on her hip as she made haste towards their car, “what's wrong baby? What’s got you thinking, hmm?” 

Ash looked up at her mum, teary eyed and mumbled, “I don’t want daddy to get mad at me, I didn’t mean to hit that boy, he just said some mean things about daddy and I got really angry”. Little sniffles were becoming more and more prevalent as she continued talking, try as she might the little girl couldn’t fathom why people would speak bad about her family, they were all so nice!. She clumsily climbed down from her mum's arms and hopped up into her car seat, clipping her belt before pulling on it dramatically to prove that she was actually clipped in. Ash then let out a small gleeful laugh when her mum bopped her on the nose before walking around the car to get into the driver's seat to start on their journey to the principal's office to find out the punishment for the young girls justified behaviour. 

The journey to the school would take longer than necessary, unexpected road closures with no concrete explanations from the officers monitoring the road blocks had forced Teressa to take the back roads and add an extra forty minutes to their already long commute for a Saturday morning. Travelling along generally unused and quiet roads was somewhat of an unusual experience for Ash, having been used to seeing cars passing by every other minute and looking at houses rather than vast open fields. As they passed round a corner, entering a tree lined road with dense forest on either side of them, an unsettling feeling overcame the young mother, there was a strange darkness that clung to the air, setting off alarm bells within. She remained calm as possible as to not alert Ashlynn that something was wrong, as the young girl was far too perceptive for her age, a trait that she had inherited from her fathers side of the family. She glanced back at her daughter, noticing that she was rather quiet, but let out a small sigh of relief when she noted that she had dozed off, head slumped against the panel of the door and her hair covering her face, snoring away softly to herself. It was in this brief moment of distraction that Teressa failed to notice the truck approaching rapidly from behind, when she did she increased her speed well beyond the speed limit, keeping an eye on a sleeping Ash to make sure she didn’t wake up and begin to start asking questions like the curious little thing always did.

As her speed increased the blacked out vehicle behind them only got faster until it was a mere meter behind their car, seeing no other option she pushed the car to its limits, approaching the upcoming intersection at speeds that should terrify her beyond means, but in this moment she was focusing on only one thing, protecting her innocent daughter in the back seat. As she passed through the intersection a scream forced its way from her throat, just through the intersection sat a parked truck blocking the road. Teressa knew she wouldn’t be able to stop in time so she swerved sharply to the right, hearing the screaming of the tires as they went from smooth asphalt to the gravely uneven surface that bordered the edge of the road. The steering of the car locked up, Teressa tried with all her might to get it moving again but was forced to endure the inevitable pain from the collision that was about to happen, with what may be her final words to her daughter she turned to look at Ash, tears filling her eyes when she took in the terrified expression on the young girls’ face, and whispered “I love you baby girl”

When Ash woke up she was sprawled on the grass a few feet from the car, rain was pouring down putting a darker spin on the event occurring. There were people standing around her, albeit a few feet away and semi-huddled together, and something warm was running into her left eye. Reaching up and feeling a thick, sticky substance she pulled her hand down to get a better look, a terrified scream leaving her small body when she noticed her hand washed red with blood. Her scream drew the attention of the people huddled together but they dismissed her without some much as a disgruntled look, they weren’t there for her. Ash glanced around, frightened and searching for her mum, who she found in a heap a meter or so to the left of her. With great difficulty she managed to crawl over to her mum, gathering her head and shaking her when she wouldn’t wake up.

“Mummy please! I’m sorry, no mummy please! Please wake up mummy, I need you” Tears poured from the eyes of the young bruised girl, mixing in with the blood as she desperately tried to wake her mum up. Her little body was exhausted from the effort, shivering from the cold seeping into her bones from the rain, and the toll of the crash began to take effect, she was becoming drowsy, a sure sign of a concussion. Ash felt a small wave of relief was over her when the eyes of her mothers’ met her own, the tears never halted, dripping off her face and landing on the face of her mother, mixing in with the blood that was covering the once beautiful face of her mum, now marred by sliced and bruised flesh.  Her mum pulled her head towards herself, pressing a short but meaningful kiss to her forehead before her body began to go limp.  “Ashy, darling, hold Mumma close for a little while”  the broken voice of her mother rang clear in her ears.

Ash pulled her mums’ head as close to her little chest as possible, crying out and trying with all her might to keep her mum with her till help could arrive. With one last shuddering breath her mother passed, she was gone, no matter how tightly Ash held her. Looking down and seeing the closed eyes of her mother, she panicked, screaming out for the group of people to try and get their attention or at least their help.  “Please help me, my mummy won’t wake up! I need my mummy, please help me!” 

One of the men started towards her, dressed in clothes very similar to that of her father, before coming to a stop before her. He looked over the child thoughtfully, knowing the orders he was given deemed only that the woman be killed and the girl to be delivered to the hospital in a recoverable state, sighing to himself he reached down and hoisted the girl up and made haste towards one of the trucks. 

“Put me down! I want my mummy. Don't take me away from her! MUMMY!!!!”  the girl cried and screamed and beat at the man that was carrying her. She didn't understand. Why was the man taking her away from the one good thing in her life.  Ash watched as the other men made their way towards her mum, before picking her up and beginning to chain her to the tree. One of the men pulled out a large knife which had the young girl screaming at the top of her lungs, “Leave my mummy alone! Just leave her alone you bully! Dont touch her!”  the men just laughed at her, mocking her pitiful cries. She was unceremoniously thrown into the backseat of one of the vehicles, effectively cutting off her view of the men outside.

The young man climbed into the driver's seat, this was his first assignment within the force and he was disgusted by the behaviour of the team. His gaze travelled out the side window just in time to watch the team commander behead the young woman they had just killed, his stomach turned even further when the men began taking turns carving something into the body as they chained her up to the tree and left her there for someone to find. With the signal from his commander he started the car and made haste towards the nearest hospital to get the young, tortured girl seen too as fast as possible, her eyes were drooping and she was beyond pale which scared him. He felt for the young girl, having to go through so much at a young age because of the wrongdoings of her father. 

                                                      ~present~

Ash would never forget the sounds of the crash, the shattering of the glass or the painful scream that left her mothers’ lips the moment before both their worlds went dark that day. The final words of her mother were painfully etched into her memory, a grim reminder of that fateful day, and in tribute to her fallen parent the words “A little weakness goes a long way” were tattooed above her heart, words she stuck to as much as possible. 

**

**

She sucked in a deep breath of air in an attempt to re-center herself with her surroundings and shake off the ghostly shivers of her broken past. She rubbed her hand across her face, wiping away the tears before scoffing out a vacant laugh. “Every damn year, without fail, I get these... these dreams about it ya know?. It’s like I can’t escape my past. I’m constantly thinking ‘what could I have done better, why couldn’t I have been a more grounded child’. If I had just controlled my anger my mum might still be here today” 

The broken sob that left the young soldier had the Colonels’ heart clenching in his chest and his hands tightening on the steering wheel, almost uncomfortably so. He knew all too well the effects blaming oneself had on the mind. There were many things he took the blame for or blamed himself for as an inexperienced officer in his younger days, he would not allow the girl beside him to fall into that trap any longer given there was likely a deeply buried explanation to the event, one he would commit to finding. While keeping a close eye on the road ahead he reached over to wrap Ash’s hand tightly beneath one of his own effectively hoping to silence her racing thoughts and give her something more tangible to focus on. She was one of his own now, a team member that needed to be looked after as thoroughly as possible, but also someone that, dare he say it, was slowly becoming more than that. 

Ash’s head shot up in surprise when she felt the large warm hand grasp her own, it brought a wave of unexpected comfort to her being, warming her to her core. Turning her attention from the hand over her own to the face of the man beside her she gulped. His shoulders were drawn up tight, hand gripping the wheel so tightly his knuckles were white, his jaw was clenched to the point she could have sworn she heard his teeth grinding. His brow has drawn now and his mouth was drawn into a tight line, he was clearly displeased, no, angered by her past she just confessed, the anger that had settled in his deep brown eyes had a chill racing down her spine, it was a look of cold calculation, one she was sure many of has enemies had seen moments before their death. Gathering a small amount of courage she covered his hand with her other and began rubbing small unconscious circles into the side of his thumb, letting a small relieved breath when she saw some of the tension leave his body.

**

**

A short time had passed and they had reached the hospital; the tension had now left Ash’s body, with the weight of telling Carrillo about some of her destructive past now off her shoulders she felt like the awkwardness of the previous week had been all but forgotten. Her now unwavering trust in the man beside her somewhat frightened her, coupled in with the ever growing feelings she knew she was in far too deep. There was a silent agreement between the two of them that Ash would go to the medics while Carrillo would head to the archives to try and find files that would be useful to the team, they would reconvene at the car within the next two hours. 

Upon entering the hospital and being directed to the outpatient clinic Ash was greeted by a very familiar face, “Captain Lisa Ortiz, my god it has been too long”. The smile that graced her face was pure and genuine, seeing a long lost family friend after so long was a relief and a huge shock to the system, but a good one at that. Ash wasn’t even aware that the Captain had returned from deployment, the last time she’d seen the woman was at her graduation parade when Ash had not long turned eighteen. She had grown up down the road from the amazing woman and as it turned out the Captain was now dating her favourite Lieutenant, Lt. Henry O’Connor. 

“My god, little Ashy is that you, come over here girl” Captain Ortiz beckoned her over before wrapping her in a bear hug, she used to babysit the kid when she was a young tot, and furthermore after her mother had passed. Ash’s father, more often than not, would drop her on the Ortiz family doorstep and disappear for weeks on end, she had all but raised this girl and was proud that she had followed her dreams and joined the force. “Right, you, we have some catching up to do, head down to the third room on the right and I’ll be there after I’ve found your files”  she had pointed down the corridor signaling the direction she wanted the 2nd Lieutenant to go, a pleased smile gracing her face when she watched the young thing wander off with a new found bounce in her step. 

Ash was startled from her thoughts when the Captain entered the room before plonking herself down rather ungracefully into the chair beside her. “I read the report Greys, what the fuck! Have they found who did that to you? That's some messed up shit girl, glad you’re ok though kiddo” She reached over and ruffled Ash’s hair not giving her a moment to answer the questions thrown at her before standing up to grab some gloves and some tools to begin removing the younger officers’ stitches.  “Right up on the bed, shirt off, I’m sure by now you’ll be wanting those stitches out”

Ash only nodded, shaking her head with a brief laugh before pulling her shirt over her head and climbing onto the bed like she was asked, she was far to content to do as she was told given how much she trusted the woman before her, she’d admired her since she was a small child and inspired to be like her even now. Lisa began carefully removing the stitches from her side, poking and prodding here and there to make sure she was most definitely healed like she should be, when one particularly hard poke had Ash wincing, she knew the Captain had found the slightly marred skin from where she had pulled those stitches. 

“So...” the Captain began, “I heard a dit Greys. About you, a certain LT. Colonel and then a certain international guest. Care to share?”. 

The shiteating grin that was currently taking up Lisa’s face told Ash all she needed to know. The Captain already knew everything about the whole ‘Sinclair situation’ so there really wasn’t much to tell there, but from what she remembered about the slightly older woman, she always got the answers she wanted, Ash really couldn’t hide anything from her if she tried. “Damn it Lisa, just spit it out, what do you wanna know” she said with a jeering tone, she knew forgoing rank with the Captain wouldn’t drop her in the shit, the benefits of knowing someone since you were five years old. It was funny watching Lisa try and find the right words to say, the furrowing of her brow and the opening and closing of her mouth like a fish out of water nearly had Ash in tears, it was quite the sight.

**

**

“From what I’ve heard the LT. Colonel was a bit of an asshole to you, kid. But I also remember a certain eighteen year old having it bad for him when she attended my graduation parade. I wonder who that could be...” Lisa trailed off with a chuckle. She was sure that by now Ash had all but forgotten about her nagging antics involving the man she no doubt despised nowadays, but it was still a moment of great amusement for the Captain. “Little eighteen year old you just wouldn’t shut up about him. Sinclair this, Sinclair that, honestly kid I'm surprised you never tried to jump that dick near the end of training”  Ortiz paused for a moment, considering something before having a light bulb moment, “Unless it's because of a certain Columbian hunk I’ve heard so much about from some of the medics in your intake...”  She knew she’d hit the jackpot when Ash blushed beet-red from her hairline to her neck. “Awww, does little Ashy have a crush on the big bad Colonel?”

Ash didn’t know what to say, she had honestly forgotten about how she had crushed on the LT. Colonel before she really even knew him, embarrassingly enough her reactions towards him kind of made sense now. She was going to attempt to deny her ever mounting crush on the Colonel she now lived and worked with but given the reaction Lisa had given, she knew she’d been caught out.  “Even after all these years you’re still a gossiping teen” Ash choked out with a laugh, shaking her head with a big smile on her face, “And pffft no, I do not have a crush on anyone. Thank you very much”. Even to her own ears the lie was so evident in her voice, there was definitely no denying she did have a crush on the aforementioned man, but that was despite the point. 

“OH yeah, for sure. Definitely. You sound so sure about that Greys. Come on now, between friends, what's it like living with that god of a man? I’ve only seen some pictures but holy damn girl, if you don’t ride that dick that I’m going to get you sent to the block, because denying that man that would be a crime!” The pure childlike glee that passed through the Captains body at witnessing the utter shock of her words became clear to Ash and had her curling over in laughter. Never in her life has she seen someone look so offended yet also curious at the idea.

“Hey put it this way, if that man is cuffing me. I’ll happily go right to horny jail” Ash huffed out between laughs, god it was good to be around someone who thought like her and wasn’t afraid of talking shit at work, it was gold. It felt good to genuinely laugh with someone she knew and cherished, it had been far too long. 

“Anyway Greys, better get you all wrapped up and sent on your way back to your mans before he gets grumpy and you get told off. Although secretly I’m sure you’d just love that” She walked over to the desk and gathered up some papers that she needed Ash to give to her new Commanding Officer before writing out some prescriptions for more painkillers and nausea meds that she knew would come in handy in the future.  “I need you to give these papers to the Colonel for me” she pointed to the stack tucked into an envelope, “And these ones are for you little lady. Please do keep me posted about that handsome hunk you live with. And don’t let Henry annoy you too much when he gets to the house, I’m sure you’ll have your hands full though. Good luck Greys!”  and with one final tight hug she let the young officer go. Watching her plod down the hallway with a dopey smile on her face. Before she could forget she flicked her partner a text:

To: Future Hubbster

~ baby it seems you’ll have the perfect opportunity to have some fun in your new posting. Our little Ashy-bear has a crush on the Colonel, you HAVE to get them together somehow, we need our girl to be happy.

It was barely a minute later that her phone chimed, reading the message she had to shake her head with a laugh.

From: Future Hubbster

~ God I love you. Permission to make a certain Colonel jealous by any means necessary?

She quickly typed out a reply before hitting send and making her way back to the nurses desk to grab the papers for her next patient. She was sure that whatever her partner would do that it would for sure stir up some shit in the team, one of the many reasons she loved that troublemaker.

To: Future Hubbster

~permission granted, boy scout. Just don’t weird out our little Ashy or get kicked off the team. See you tonight baby xx

                                                  ----------

From that day onwards the energy in the house was no longer awkward. Carrillo and Ash had fallen back into a rhythm of eating meals together and just genuinely enjoying each other's company in the moments when they could relax.  Every Night at around twenty hundred hours they’d both find their way into the living room, generally Ash with a book and Carrillo with some kind of file that could potentially be helpful for their missions, reading quietly in comfortable silence had brought a sense of peace to the both of them. With the events from earlier in the week pushed to the side, but definitely not forgotten by either of them, they were back to being a well gelled team, a small team nonetheless but it worked well for them. 

Ash had not so subtly started doting on the man. She’d bring him coffee’s to the office during the day because he barely left the room when he got stuck in a rut reading paper after paper, her heart always warmed that extra little bit when he’d happily accept the cup and give her a small grateful smile, she always left the room with a blush on her cheeks and an added skip in her step. Sunday rolled round and Carrillo had seemingly disappeared from the house, and with him nowhere to be found Ash took it upon herself to finally go for a run. 

The property definitely seemed larger now she was running around the outside of it, she was becoming exhausted much faster than she would have liked and her side was rather sore from the effort. It was on her third lap of the property, the lap she had named ‘struggle street’ that she heard the sound of an approaching vehicle. Gapping it towards the house in an attempt to act like she hadn’t just been breaking the rules she made it just in time, rushing round her room and heading to the shower as fast as possible. The both of them had obviously learnt one thing from their moment in the living room nearly a week ago, always take your clothes into the bathroom and come out fully dressed, definitely a less awkward situation. Upon leaving the bathroom, fully clothed, she noticed a fresh set of groceries on the bench, it now made sense as to where the Colonel had disappeared to. 

Ash started out putting everything away neatly and into the designated spots, putting her favourite foods into easy to reach spots because while she was average height, some of the cupboards were just that little bit too tall for her to reach up into.  Once everything was put away she beelined for the couch and flicked on a random movie on tv, not intending to do much more than nap due to being beyond tired from her run, the dull ache of her muscles was a welcome feeling. Ash skipped dinner that night, still feeling far too tired from her exercise and instead chose to retire to bed early, but not before delivering a fresh cup of coffee to a very busy Carrillo.

Ash was starving when she woke up the next morning, stomach was growling and her body ached more than it had in a very long while, the good kind of overworked ache. Climbing rather ungracefully from her bed and into the kitchen, forgetting to put shorts on under the t-shirt she wore while in a tired state. Growing bored while waiting for the pot of coffee to finish she dug into the cupboard to grab a bowl and spoon in preparation for breakfast, wandering over to the fridge to get the milk before returning to her previous place, just in time for the coffee to be ready. Pouring the cup and taking a quick sip she felt herself begin to wake up, she definitely functioned better after the first cup of coffee in the morning, placing the cup down she reached up to the cupboard she usually kept her cereal in to make herself a bowl, only to find it wasn’t where she had put it yesterday upon unpacking the groceries. Huffing to herself in frustration she began checking the other cupboards, each one she opened came up empty, the frustration growing more and more when all the ones in her line of sight and reach didn’t contain her beloved Creamy Oats. It was then that it occurred to her there was one cupboard left to check, the highest up one that Carrillo usually kept any of his favourite stuff in, reaching up on tippy toes and flicking one of the doors open and she struck gold. From her placement she could see the logo of her cereal staring back at her, now she just had to reach it. Somehow. 

Caught up in trying to reach her cereal she failed to notice the Colonel leaning against his bedroom door watching silently from afar. He’d woken to the sound of the kitchen being ransacked only to laugh at what he was seeing. His plan it seemed, had worked, from his vantage point he was granted with quite the sight, long muscled legs, and a well toned ass were revealed as Ash tried to stretch as much as she could onto her tiptoes to reach the box of cereal he had deliberately placed at the back of ‘his’ cupboard. Smirking away to himself he slowly padded over to the kitchen, taking special care to dare not make a sound to alert her of his presence. 

Ash jumped when she felt a hand land softly on her side, her body tensed before relaxing all too quickly when she felt the penetrating heat of the man behind her. He reached up over her head, muscles bunching and pressed tightly against her effectively caging her in, grasped the box of cereal she was desperately trying to reach and reached down and placed it in front of her. She expected him to move away instantly but instead he stood there trapping her between the hard wood of the bench and the increasingly harder wood poking her in the lower back. One arm was still gripping her side, the other wrapped around her front with his hand played out on the bench, desperately close to where she needed it most. 

Testing the resolve of the officer behind her might not have been her brightest idea but she craved any kind of interaction or touch she could gain from this man. Ash pushed back on him, letting out a small pliant sound of need when she felt him twitch against the curve of her ass, the resulting groan she received from him had her buckling at the knees. His head moved down, mouth hovering against the shell of her ear, she could feel the harsh uneven breaths and when she ground down on him again, harder this time, she was rewarded with yet another deep  moan, one that sent a delighted shiver down her spine. She made a move to repeat the action but the hand on her side clamped down impossibly tight, efficiently halting her movements, the last thing she expected was for him to speak.

“Do that again, and you’ll find out how little control I really have” His voice was a mere whisper but it had the desired effect. 

Ash froze, processing the words. The sleepy lust filled drawl sent a punch of arousal straight to her core and a moan escaping her throat. She was almost tempted to see how far she could push him, but settled for subtly maneuvering herself to grab for her coffee and bring it closer, her throat was impossibly dry now and he was not helping the situation. 

The subtle movement brushed so lightly against him that in any other state it may have been  imperceptible but in this highly aroused state it made him want to return the favour. He leaned down slowly, gauging her reaction, before gently and fleetingly brushing his lips behind her ear, smirking softly against her skin when she tilted her head slightly to accommodate him, mouth agape. Never one to turn down an advantage he slowly moved his right hand towards her coffee cup, distracting her further by trailing his lips along the edge of her jaw towards her own lips. He continued his journey towards her lips, stopping only when his hand found purchase on the hot cup of coffee before her, before he retraced his previous path, this time stopping every few centimeters to mouth at underside of her jaw, when he reached his intended target he sealed the deal. He nibbled at the soft skin beneath her ear, sucking lightly to leave the barest of marks but one the both of them would know was there, he blew softly on the skin, lips once again pulling into a smirk when she threw her head back against his bare shoulder. He leant his head against the side of her own, gently nuzzling against her before he growled out lowly, “Thanks for the Coffee Ash” and then as if he wasn’t affected by the current situation, he stepped back, groaning at the loss of pressure against his painfully hard cock. 

To say Ash was an undignified mess wouldn’t be far from the truth, but even in her current state of dizzying arousal she wouldn’t let him have the last word. She spun on her heel, briefly stunned while watching the muscles on his back bunch and twist as he made his way back to his room, before she remembered her mission. “Sir..” she tempted in a voice dripping with sin, smirking proudly when she saw his shoulders tense and his head shoot up in a hurry, obviously not expecting her to speak back, “When you start something next time, I expect you to finish it” and with those as her final words she turned around, leaning heavily against the bench for support, barely resisting the urge to get herself off where she stood, Colonel be damned. 

Carrillo only just had his door closed and the coffee cup discard before he was desperately pulling himself from his shorts. In less than a dozen strokes and with a barely concealed yell he had spilled into his own hand, moving across the floor he reached down to pick up a discarded t-shirt to clean up his mess. Sitting down on his bed to catch his breath he had to laugh at the situation, he had underestimated the young woman, severely so, and now he’d crossed a line he never had before. He was in deep, far too deep to continue to deny his true feelings for the junior officer. He flopped back onto his bed, staring at the ceiling before growling out a string of curse words in his native tongue. That girl really knew how to get under his skin.

[benscaligraphyset]

Unexpected

Chapter two

Summary: What you thought was just a bad case of food poisoning, turns out to be the child of Ben Solo growing inside you. How will he react? Will you get the chance to tell him?

Pairing: Ben Solo x You

Warnings: unexpected pregnancy (?), mentions of smut but not the actual act, a bit of angst

Something was wrong. 

You’d been sick before, but, you’ve never felt like this...something just felt off.

You were nauseous almost all of the time and you’d begun to anticipate the daily vomiting spells, which at least provided relief of the nausea, of only for a little while. The fatigue was almost overwhelming some days and you were barely able to get through basic training; people were beginning to notice. Today, you decided, this has been going on for too long and enough is enough. You needed to go back to the medbay. 

You’d gone earlier when the symptoms first started and they tested you for any plausible illness, but all the tests came back perfectly fine. The droids assured you that you must’ve eaten some bad bantha and you just needed to rest, but you’d had food poisoning and it never lasted this long and it just didn’t feel like this. But, you figured they were right. They knew best after all. 

Maybe you just have a bad reaction to bantha.

You never typically would eat bantha as it was usually something you’d turn your nose up at, but the other morning, the overwhelming craving for a bantha burger came over you. And so you had one. And now you felt like bantha shit. 

“Hello, Mistress Y/N!” One of the nurse droids greeted you. “Are you feeling any better?”

You shook your head. “No, and I think you need to do some more tests. This isn’t food poisoning.”

“Well, I suppose we can do some more tests that we didn’t before.” The droid led you towards one of the beds. You laid on the semi-comfortable mattress with whirring machinery over your head.

“There are a few that we didn’t think would apply but could match your symptoms.” 

You nodded, staring at the ceiling.

The droid bustled around bringing various machinery over and typing things into datapads. You waited anxiously, trying to control your brain from going through all the possibilities. 

“We need you to stay still for all the testing,” a different droid next to your bed said. You tilted your head in question before realizing that you were fidgeting your legs nervously. 

“Oh, right, sorry,” you apologized and willed your legs to stop moving. 

You’d never been a fan of going to the doctors, now more than ever considering something could actually be wrong. 

You took a deep breath. By the Force, you would make it through this. 

A circular machine went over your body, starting at your legs and stopped moving at your abdomen. The scanner wrapped around all the way under your cot and began to make a whirring noise that signaled it was scanning. 

After a few seconds, it beeped and pulled away from you. The droid went over to check the results and appeared to stare at it for longer than seemed necessary. The droid gestured for another nurse droid to come look at the screen. 

“Is everything alright?” you asked after what felt like five minutes of silence. 

“Forgive us mistress, but we didn’t realize that Jedi could have sexual relations so we didn’t initially—“

“They can’t—I’m not—,” you broke off and shook your head. “I’m sorry, what are you saying?” 

“You’re pregnant.”

You shook your head and couldn’t help scoffing at the prospect. “I...I’m what? No, that’s not possible.”

The droid looked offended. “I assure you our tests have a hundred percent accurate—“

“Well, there’s a first time for everything. The test is wrong,” you cut off the droid. You regretted taking that tone with the nurse; you were never usually one to be snippy with droids. But, there was a time to apologize and there was a time to prevent yourself from panicking and right now you were doing everything in your power to control your emotions before they became overwhelming. You took a few deep breaths and tried to center yourself as Master Luke had taught you. 

The nurse complied and brought the machine over your abdomen once more and you heard the familiar beep indicating it was done. The machine was pulled back and the same two nurses came over to check the results. They both looked over at you and then back at each other, seeming hesitant of what to say. 

“What does it say?” you asked keenly.

“Positive for pregnant.” 

“N-no, that’s not...” 

But even as you started to refute the results, your feelings betrayed you and you knew that the droids were in fact right. You were only vaguely aware of your l shaking hand instinctively going over your womb as you began to accept it was really true. 

“How far along am I?” you heard yourself ask. It didn’t feel like it was you asking though; you felt separated from your body like you were watching the scene from afar. 

“Almost four weeks.” 

You sighed. The day Ben had come back from his mission. 

The nurse droid had told you it was going to fly in some prenatal tabs for you and you nodded numbly, not really listening. Your ears were ringing with all the thoughts that were going through your head. 

Before the nurse could close the door behind you, you grabbed its shoulder. The droid whirled around to look at you. 

“Yes, mistress?”

“I trust you’ll keep this confidential,” you said. 

“Of course. It is in our programming to only relay medical information at the patient's request,” it answered and you gave it a small smile. 

“Oh, and I’m sorry for being snippy with you earlier, this is just...a lot to take in.”

Considering you could be expelled from the Jedi Order for this, yeah, this was a lot to take in. Perhaps Master Luke would take mercy since this child would be his nephew’s, but maybe that would make it worse. 

“No apologies are necessary,” the droid replied and whirled back into the room. You continued on to leave the medbay and pushed past the exit doors. 

“So, what’d they say?” Ben asked, his large figure appearing out of nowhere. You reached for your belt, which was lightsaberless, luckily for Ben, before realizing who it was. 

“Blast it, Ben! You scared me!”

“Sorry, sweetheart,” Ben apologized but could help the small chuckle that bubbled up his chest. 

“You’re lucky I don’t have my lightsaber on me,” you snipped and Ben rolled his eyes.

“One,” Ben started and grabbed your arm to bring you behind the building of the medbay, “you should always have your weapon on you. Two, you wouldn’t have been able to get it out in time.”

As soon as you were out of sight, he looked around cautiously and, before you could reply, brought his lips down to yours, capturing you in a fervent kiss. You couldn’t help but lose yourself in the kiss, but to be fair, you hadn’t had any real alone time in, well, a month. You let his tongue slip into your mouth and you reveled in the taste of him. You realized how easy it was to completely lose yourself in lust with him. 

No wonder you were pregnant.

Your breath hitched at the thought, but obviously not for the reason Ben thought. He groaned deeply and you could feel his smirk against your lips as his hand brazenly cascaded down the small of your back. You reluctantly pulled back and luckily you could blame your quick breaths on the kiss. He stopped his hand just above your ass and rubbed small, soothing circles. 

“I’ve been worried about you.”

“Mm, I can tell,” you joked. “But, Master Luke could catch us at any moment—“

“He’s in his hut reading Jedi text,” Ben reassured you. You felt his irritation prickle in the Force at the mention of his uncle and you couldn’t blame him as their relationship lately has been rocky at best. You cringed at the thought of adding this situation to both their plates. 

“Well, what did they say?” He asked, pushing his irritation down. 

“Hm?”

“The nurse droids, did they give you a new diagnosis?” 

Now that you were discussing your health, Ben’s anxiety had flared and you could feel it coming off him in hot waves. 

You sighed and shut your eyes. If you were being honest, Ben was the last person you wanted to see right now. Not because he wasn’t comforting, on the contrary, you wanted to throw yourself into his arms and tell him everything...but you couldn’t, and that was the problem. You needed time to come up with a lie, to center yourself in an attempt to hide your feelings. Right now, you needed to relax or Ben was going to know something was wrong. You pushed yourself away slightly, worried he’d be able to feel your heart desperately trying to burst out of your chest. 

“Uh, well no...They took a few tests and they’ll let me know tomorrow, but I’m thinking they were right and it really is just a bad case of food poisoning.”

Ben could sense you were lying, you knew he could, so, for once, you were grateful for the wave of nausea that came over you. You gripped your stomach as it lurched and you went off a few feet away from him so he wouldn’t see you like this. But, of course, Ben instantly rushed over to your side and pulled your hair back and out of the way. Blast him for being a gentleman. 

“Sorry,” you apologized and wiped your mouth. 

“You don’t need to apologize, sweetheart. I think I should talk to the droids—“

“No!” You grabbed his arm and pleaded with your eyes. “I just want to go to my hut...please.” 

Ben looked at you skeptically but, respected your wishes and put his arm around you to walk back to the huts.

It had been nearly a week since you found out the truth and you knew you needed to tell Ben the truth and fast. You were going to start showing through your robes soon and you could no longer lie about food poisoning. No one had questioned you when you said the nurses recommended you take it easy for a few days but that could only last so long before suspicions rose. 

But, you were scared. This would be the end of the line for you, for both of you. You know Ben would follow you if you were banished from the order; he wouldn’t let you be alone and it doesn’t hurt that Luke hasn’t been very encouraging about his training lately. But, you didn’t want to be the reason he had to abandon becoming a Jedi, because even for all his complaining and drifting away, you knew Ben wanted to make Luke proud as much as you did; he wanted to be a Jedi. And Luke’s disappointment was something you dreaded almost most of all. The thought of his face after hearing the news gave you a whole new wave of nausea. 

But you couldn’t lie and say that the thought of running away with Ben wasn’t appealing. Selfishly, you let yourself smile at the thought of you and Ben settling down with a toddling child with big, black hair. You both could teach this child the ways of the Force in your own way, no pressure from Jedi or Sith looming over their shoulder, and Ben would no longer live with the pressure of trying to conform to the way of the Jedi. You could both be happy.

That night you dreamt of a small head with big, black, scruffy hair and a life of your own. Your paradisiacal visions were interrupted by a feeling of pure terror and you instantly jolted up in your bed. You only thought of one thing while running out of your hut: Ben was in trouble. . 

By the time you got to his destroyed hut, it was too late. Ben had already fled and Master Luke was knocked unconscious in the rubble. 

Oh no

(A/N: Thank you all for reading! I’m planning on leaving it here but I can be persuaded to finish it if there's a request for it! Please reply if you liked it! Reblogs are appreciated :) )

Ask to be added to my permanent taglist!

[beetlegoose01]

Frostbite (Chapter 2- Suspire)

AN: Chapter 2 is here friends! I appreciate all the kind feedback I received last chapter! Without further ado...

Previous Chapter: https://pepperimps01.tumblr.com/post/644922844412854272/frostbite-casetello-an-do-these-two-have-a-ship

~~~~

"So, can I go now?" Casey asked impatiently, trying to flex his arm. "I've got places to be, slowpoke."

Donnie glared at him, irritated. He seemed even more frustrated that Casey had made that semi flirty jab at him.  "Like where?"

"You know...around." He gave a toothy grin.

"Very specific, Jones."

"I like to think I'm very pacific."

"That's-"

"Actually..." Casey wiggled his eyebrows. "Red wanted to talk to me about something. Maybe a bit more than talk if you know what I mean..." He shrugged. "Can't exactly blame her. I'm a catch."

'We aren't there yet, Jones.'

'Is it about April? Because it's not my fault, she ...y'know likes me more.'

Donnie's heart plummeted, dropping the scalpel he was holding. It crashed by his feet loudly, but he didn't bother picking it up.  "You better go then." He said coldly.

"Are you sure? Because I wanted to tell you some-"

"Just leave!" He snapped. "Can't you tell I'm busy? I've got retromutagen to work on."

"Jeez, okay. Don't get your tail in a knot." The teen raised his hands in surrender.

Casey stumbled out of the lab, dazed and confused. His arm thankfully didn't hurt anymore, but he still felt a bit uneasy and sick to his stomach. He really just wanted to take a nap, forget about everything that happened and maybe never work with Donatello again. Couldn't that turtle take a joke?

He needed a distraction...

"CJ!" Mikey exclaimed, leaping towards him with a stupid grin on his face. Casey yelped, taken aback by the orange turtle's enthusiasm. At least that was a distraction alright.  "You won't believe this, dude!"

Casey smirked. "You know, I'm starting to think everything is believable at this point. What's up? Did you discover a new pizza joint?"

The smallest turtle looked about ready to explode with excitement. "Nope! Can't tell you yet, bro.  Come on, Leo's explaining everything at the dojo! I'm just getting you and Donnie! I'm ...Mikey the messenger!" And then he was off again, no doubt badgering Donatello.

Casey shook his head, laughing. Though he was somewhat curious about whatever the leader in blue had to say.

He entered the dojo, checking if Master Splinter was behind him. He trusted the old ninja master, and couldn't deny he was a big help...but that didn't stop him from flinching every time they made eye contact. Rats still gave him the creeps.

Raph and April were already there, chatting amongst themselves. Raph was currently practicing opening and closing April's tessen.

"I dunno, it just seems a bit..." He trailed off.

"A bit what, Raph?" April's eyebrows furrowed. "Go on, finish that sentence."

"It's not very sharp, that's all." As he said this, the tip of the fan poked his finger and he let out a squawk of pain.

"Not very sharp, huh?" April swiped the fan back. "Remember this from me: don't judge everything by its outer appearance."

"Touché." Raph waved at Casey, and the pair did an elaborate secret hand shake.

"What's this about anyway?" He folded his arms.

"Beats us." Raph shrugged. "All Mikey said was-" He changed his voice to a high pitched, cruel but accurate impression of his youngest brother. "Dudes you've gotta hear this! I'm gonna cry on the floor if you don't come to the dojo right this second!"

"It must be big if Leo wants to tell us." April said. "I mean, all Raph and I dealt with was the Purple Dragons graffiting a stop sign."

"It was a slow night!" Raph protested.  

"Maybe they saw Karai?" Casey suggested. That was really the only thing he could think of.

Mikey bounded into the dojo, followed by an extremely disgruntled Donnie, who made a big show of standing as far away from Casey as possible.

"What's all this about?" Donnie asked.

The single light bulb above them started to burn out. The team heard shuffling from behind the large tree, and a shadowy figure approached them, stepping into the dimly lit middle area. He dramatically raised his head, looking grim.

"You're probably wondering why I called you here this evening." Leo said, glancing at Mikey, who of course already knew and was wiggling with excitement.

"Well, yeah. Spit it out, already." Raph said impatiently.

Leo ignored him. "Mikey and I encountered something tonight.  Another mutant. We thought we caught them all or made allies with them but..."

"What?" His emerald eyes widened.

"What is it?" Donnie pressed.

"A dragon!" Mikey interrupted. "A humongous dragon! He had razor sharp teeth and claws!" He paused. "Actually he kinda reminded me of Leatherhead but way less friendly."

"Dragons aren't real, meathead." Donnie grumbled. "They're completely made up fictional stories."

"Have you ever seen a dragon before? Huh? Have you Donnie?" Mikey retorted, cloudy blue eyes filled with a sense of innocence that truly believed dragons were real- but also with a stubborn pride to prove his genius brother wrong. A common occurrence between the two youngest brothers.

"No but-"

"See?" Mikey looked triumphedley at Donnie, then turned back to Leo. "Continue,"

"Like I...and I guess Mikey was saying, we know it's some type of reptile. Not a dragon for sure, but something."

"Any distinctive features?" Donnie asked, snark evident in his tone. "There are over 8000 living species of reptiles, so you might need to be more specific."

"Ah, shut up Brainiac." Raph groaned.

"He's got a point though." Casey pointed out. "Not that I'm agreeing with him- I mean...there are like, a lot of reptiles out there."

"We didn't get a close look at it, I'm afraid. We had to retreat. Whatever it was, it was tough."

"And...kinda scary." Mikey said, hiding behind his oldest brother wearily.

"Fear is the path to the dark side, Mikey." Leo said firmly, patting his head. "Don't let your fear cloud your judgment. We can take it on. Just like we always do."

The group stared at the leader blankly.

"Did you really just quote Yoda?"  April said, covering her mouth to stop her giggles.

"Wh- nooo..." Leo blushed, leaning against the tree in a failed attempt to seem casual. "Why would I do that? That's totally ...lame." Clearing his throat, he continued: "Tomorrow we'll hold a stake out to find this mutant. I'm thinking they may have a chance to be an ally. Any questions?"

Mikey raised his hand. "Are you sure we can't have a pizza out instead? I'm not really a fan of steak and-"

"Any relevant questions?"

"Has it done any actual damage?" April tilted her head.

"It looked more scared than anything, actually." said Leo. "That's why I think we can convince it to join our allegiance."

"And if it isn't willing? Suppose it isn't up for prancing through a meadow with us and decides to kill us all?" Raph said. "Because our track record with friendly mutants tends to be a mixed bag."

"You didn't answer my question, did it do any damage?"

Leo chewed on his lip. "So...don't freak out but, it- she- he? Er- they looked very hungry and did attempt to spit on us. With acid. Or venom or whatever." He pressed on, despite the horrified looks of his peers. "It'll be okay! I have full confidence we can handle this as a team."

"So let me get this straight, Leo." Raph said, moving forward to his brother. "You almost got killed by this monster and your next course of action is: let's be friends! Are you out of your shell? That plan works just as well as Casey and Donnie baking cookies together!"

"For once I agree with Raph." Donnie said, earning a very disgruntled look from his brother.

"I didn't say friends, just figure out their motives." Leo mumbled.

"Whatever you say, Fearless." Raph pushed his brother aside roughly. "Good luck with that. I'm gonna check out Bloody Deaths III, anyone wanna play with me? Casey?"

"Sure," Casey felt his phone buzz. An anxious text from his twelve year old sister Riley snapped him back to reality. "Ah...actually can't. My little sister is getting worried. See you guys tomorrow?"

"Yeah, whatever."

"No worries. Older brother duties call." Leo nodded.

"Don't worry Raph, I'll play with you!" Mikey

"So will I." Leo agreed, happy to relax for a little bit. "How about you guys?" He glanced at Donnie and April, the last remaining members still inside the dojo.

"Just a moment. I'll be right there." April confirmed.

"Don't keep us waiting," Raph cracked his knuckles.

As they were leaving the dojo, Donnie felt a tap on his shoulder. Spinning around, he faced the beaming freckled face of April O' Neil.

"Hey!" She said cheerfully, blue eyes bright and curious.

"Er, um, hey!" He echoed, voice raising several octaves as puberty decided to betray him. He was grateful his brothers were in the other room, babbling about the video game Raph found in the dumpster. No doubt they would be teasing him about his failed attempt at flirting.

"I wanted to talk to you." April said.

"About the new mutant? Because I didn't get a chance to see it-"

"No, no." She interrupted, nudging his shoulder playfully. He blushed at the contact. "I meant about you and Casey. Everything turned out okay?"

Donnie fought the urge to groan. Of course it was about Jones. Instead, he bit his tongue, smiled sweetly and said: "He was...okay." he waved his hand vaguely.

April grinned, relieved. "Wow, that's way better than I expected!"

Donnie narrowed his eyes.

"What I mean is, you two are my closest friends. Seeing you two butt heads, act like you hate each other-  it hurts." She explained. "So it's nice seeing my two best buds get along.

'Best ...buds.' Donnie thought to himself, analyzing each word carefully. 'So maybe she isn't interested in him. That boy with his cocky grin and his stupid egotistical-'

"Casey mentioned you fixed his arm up too!"

"Huh?"

"His arm...he sprained it and you patched it up."

He rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. "Oh, that." He chuckled. "Wait...he told you?"  

"Yeah, he seems grateful but obviously too 'macho' to admit that."

"It wasn't really anything special."

"But it was, Donnie." April's eyes twinkled. "It was a really nice thing to do. I'm just...so happy you two are finally getting along. Thank you. I knew you would eventually!"

"Heh, well you know."

April chuckled, taking his hand as they walked to the pit.

Mikey sprung up from his beanbag chair. "Yuck, did you two kiss?" He gagged.

April rolled her eyes. "Wouldn't you like to know."

Raph pretended to throw up into his bowl of popcorn while Leo just laughed fondly.

"Take a seat you guys." He said. "We're about to start the game!"

"Actually I think I might call in early tonight." Donnie faked a yawn. "I'm so ...tired."

"You? Sleep?" Raph snorted. "If you didn't want to hang out with us, you could just say that. I don't think I've seen you go in your room since you were thirteen, Don."

"That's not true..." Donnie's cheeks flushed.

"Aw, leave him be." April said, grabbing a handful of popcorn despite Raphael's protests. "He needs his rest."

"Yeah, you do look significantly greener than normal, dude." Mikey pointed out.  "So to speak."

"Go get some rest." Leo said, raising a comforting hand to Donatello's shoulder. "That's an order from your leader."

"Well...goodnight then. Have fun." Donnie added an extra fake yawn for added effect, then retreated to the lab when they looked the other way.

~•~

Donatello checked his very messy notes, examining each point with precision. If he wasn't exact, weeks, heck, months of research would be a waste. He wasn't going to let anyone, let alone Casey Jones ruin his process. The lack of sleep already made his work sloppy.

"Add the dose of norepinephrine, stir carefully with the calibrated mutagen..." He mumbled under his breath. "Then wait ten minutes before..."

But he couldn't get that terribly charismatic smirk out of his mind. That no nothing, cocky little son of a-

"Focus Donnie. Don't think about him."

"Talking to yourself again I see."

"Gah!" Donnie yelped, practically doing ballet leaps as he grabbed the nearly fallen canister. He turned around to face his older, but significantly shorter brother. "Hamato Raphael!" He squeaked shrilly.

"Ooh using the full name on me." Raph snickered. "What did I do to deserve that?"

"How long have you been here?"

Raph shrugged, poking the bunsen burner. "Eh, long enough."

"Weren't you suppose to be playing that dumb game with the others?"

"Yeah, and we beat it." He said, piercing green eyes staring him down with a sense of judgement. "And I thought you were supposed to be sleeping. Shoulda have known you'd be back in your Nerd Cave." He flicked Donnie's arm.

"Why are you here?"

"Okay, twenty questions, is it against the law to see my baby brother?"

Donnie folded his arms. "Since when do you ever visit me for no reason?"

"Because I'm such a kind, caring brother?" He looked away guiltily. "Who simply wanted to check on you? Is that such a terrible thing, Donatello?" He leaned forward, dropping the act to return to his usual deadpan tone. "Also my motorcycle needs fixing."

"Ah, there it is."

"Watch the snark, I need it fixed soon."

"Fine, fine." Donnie sighed. "I will."

"Good, 'cause Casey and I are gonna hit the streets with that baby." He said smugly.

Donnie wilted. "Jones?"

Raph raised his eyebrows. "Yeah, Casey Jones. Human, dark hair, lots of missing teeth...this tall? Ring any bells? Oh, right. Forgot you and him had this thing going on..."

"It isn't about that." Donnie said quickly. "We...him and I..."

"You know, seeing you two act like idiots around each other isn't gonna help the team out. Even Mikey thinks it's stupid."

First April, now Raph? And apparently Mikey too...

"I don't care about what you and Jones do, it isn't really my business." Donnie cooled down, trying to tame his temper. "And we're trying, truly trying, at least I am to be civil."

"Hmph, yeah right."

"And ...I don't care if you two spend time together. Why should I? We aren't even friends!"

"Okay, okay." Raph raised his hands in surrender. "I'm going to bed. You should too by the looks of it. After my bike is finished, of course."

Donnie grunted.

"And Donnie?"

"Hm?"

"Who exactly are you trying to convince? Me or yourself?"

Donatello didn't have an answer.

~•~

Everything hurt. From the depths of her scaly toes, to her ferocious gaping mouth.What was she? She didn't know anymore. A monster? A freak? Any humanity she had left, was a clouded memory and there was no turning back. She struggled to move, still becoming accustomed to her new features. Four legs were harder to maneuver than two, but she made do.

She slivered across the murky water, pains in her stomach growling from lack of proper food. She couldn't recall the last time she had a warm meal. She lifted her head, silver grey eye slits opening. . In what she lost, her human form, her hair, and sense of a normal life- she had gained quite a few things too. A keen sense of smell, for one. Her eyesight had improved too. She had also gained an olive green tail, which helped with her balance.

'As long as I don't need those pesky glasses anymore.' She thought to herself bitterly.  Those horrid things were the cause of her harassment when she was a human. Now she would have the last laugh. They would cower in fear if they saw what she looked like now.

Her stomach grumbled again.

But yet...those turtles she encountered. So tasty looking...so delectable. They would satisfy her pain.

She stared at the mutant's reflection. It blinked when she blinked. It moved its tail when she flicked it.

This was her life now. She might as well make the most of being a monster.

She had work to do.

[kayrogers]

to all the girls i've loved before ][ p.  parker

a tatbilb au

Paring(s): LJ!tom holland x PK!reader

Inspo: TATBILB cause Peter is a total soft boi and also I'm a slut for rom-coms

Word Count: 1700+

Warning(s): cursing and awkward kissing

Part: prologue | part ??

A/N: this has literally been a draft in my notes for like over a year, but college has been creatively hitting me in the stomach with a baseball bat so I only wanted to start it when I got a semi-break. Obvs updates will not be regular just like everything else I write because I am the worst, but I mean thanks in advance if ya read it!

‘ Dear [Y/n] [Y/l/n],

First of all, I refuse to call you [Y/l/n]. You think you’re so cool, going by your last name all the sudden. Just so you know, that only makes you one of the guys. That’s it.

Did you know that I didn’t stop thinking about our kiss every time I saw you in school for at least the rest of seventh grade? Sometimes I think you do. Because you always seem to know everything. And you always smile when you see me blushing like you know you’re the reason why. That’s what I hate about you. Because you do just know, or at least you act like it. You’re too cool to be bothered by anything, or be wrong EVER.

Well here are some things you don’t know that I think:

You swear all the time and say the grossest things. I’ve heard every dirty joke Flash has ever made, and you beat him without trying! And you just assume everyone will think it’s cute cause you’re a pretty girl and you curse. And if they don’t, who cares, right? Wrong! You care. You care a lot about what people think of you.

You always show us bugs you think are cool and it’s gross. That’s terrifying and I hate when you stick them in my face cause I’m grossed out. It’s rude.

You’re so good at everything. Too good. I have to try harder around the guys to be half as cool as you.

You kissed me for no reason! You knew Flash wanted to kiss you. Everyone knew that Flash wanted to kiss you. He made all of us spit-shake on not kissing you if we ended up in the closet for 7 minutes in heaven because he liked you. But you still did it. Why? I wanted my first kiss to be special, and with my future girlfriend. All romantic, you know? That’s what it was supposed to be. And it wasn’t any of that. Thanks to you it was the most un-special kiss it could be AND I got my ass kicked by Flash!

The stupidest part is, that kiss made me like you. I never did before. Didn’t think of you as anything but one of the guys. Flash has always said you’re the prettiest girl we know. And yeah, that’s true. But I still didn’t LIKE you. Missed the hook that every other guy was on in middle school. A lot of people are beautiful. Doesn’t make them interesting or intriguing or cool.

Is that why you kissed me? Cause I was the only one who wasn’t wrapped around your finger? Well it worked! Ever since then, I saw you. I mean really looked at you. Behind every scratch, bump, and bruise from whatever sport you were playing, I saw you. How you weren’t just beautiful, that word isn’t good enough. You just exist effortlessly.

And yes, I did go through the thesaurus for that adjective. You’re hard to describe, [Y/n].

After you kissed me, I liked you for the rest of seventh grade and almost all of eighth. It’s not easy watching you with Flash. It’s also not easy when he shoves it in my face all the time cause he doesn’t like me anymore. So thanks for that! But I get it, if I had you I wouldn’t be able to shut up about you either. You make him feel special. Because that’s what you do, right? You’re good at making people feel special.

But not me anymore. I haven’t really seen you over the past year. And any time I do, you’re with Flash. Your spell has worn off [Y/n] [Y/l/n]. I am proud to say that I am once again the only boy in school to not be hooked into you. All because I got too much of you at once and now I don’t think I’ll want to be under that spell ever again.

What a relief!

Peter Benjamin Parker ’

You felt your brows furrow, cheeks equally red from a shyness you hadn’t felt in years and slight anger. Clearly he wrote this years ago, but why send it now? Right after Flash cheated on you?!

Did he like you? Did he hate you? Why did you care? It was just Peter-fucking-Parker.

You purse your lip, placing the letter back on the desk. Your blood boiled, heart skipping a beat. Every single reaction in your body was opposing and you hated how much it affected you.

So what would be the best course of action? To act like it didn’t effect you at all. At least, that’s what you saw as the right decision. It’d be easy, just let Parker down and tell him you didn’t feel the same. Because maybe that’s what this was? Maybe Peter did fall back “under your spell” and now that you were finally single he had to tell you? That was the only idea which came to your mind anyways.

You looked over at your closet, eyes focusing on your favorite shirt. It was a white crew neck sweater decorated in the entomology of beetles, and you decided you would be wearing that to turn him down.

“Don’t like my bugs? Yeah okay, Dickhead.” You muttered and pulled the item out before forming the rest of the outfit which consisted of running shorts and sneakers. Classy, right?

You took a picture of the letter before folding it back up and placing it into the envelope. Why? Well not that you’d admit it, but you were never complimented like that before. And that part of the letter made you feel kinda nice actually. He paid attention to you back then, which could have been sweet once upon a time. Now? Now you didn’t know how to feel about it and that bothered you immensely. 

Later, in school, You mulled over how you would confront the boy. It was weird, really weird. You and Peter hadn’t really talked since middle school and the most the two of you interacted in high school was you apologizing for Flash being a dick to him about 24/7. And now he was apparently infatuated with you once and you had to tell him that you didn’t feel the same. But as the clock ticked on, you knew you had at least one class with him and that was gym.

 You anxiously gripped the letter in your hand, jogging along the track and looking for a familiar set of brown curls. It didn’t take long for you to catch up with him, spotting Peter and Ned half-walking the whole thing while the gym teacher wasn’t looking.

“Yo Parker! Wait up a second.” You called and his head whipped around, his eyes instantly going to your sweater.

‘Do bugs really bother him that much?’ You thought and held back a frown before shrugging it off. There were more important matters.

“Nice shirt! Is it accurate?” Ned instantly chirped up and you let yourself smirk, he always had such an excited demeanor in a way that could light up a room if anyone bothered to notice him.

“You think you’d catch me wearing pseudoscience? What the hell do you take me for?” That smirk grew into a smile as you spoke to Ned, not noticing the pale color staining Peter’s face. Because while you were focused on Ned, Peter was focused on you. 

Specifically, the letter in your hand.

“You’re right, I apologize. What brings you over here anyways? You usually lap us twice by now.” You looked over to Peter while Ned talked, watching how he was unable to even look up from your hand.

“I wanted to talk to Peter, actually…  alone?” You scratched the back of your neck while Ned let out a big ‘ohh’ and quickly made himself scarce.

The boy looked more nervous than you had ever seen him, running his hands through his hair so much that every knot could have been plucked out by now. 

“What um- what’s up, [Y/n]?”

 “Listen, I’m gonna make this quick to save both of us the awkwardness. I think it’s really nice that you think I’m one of the prettiest girls in our grade and stuff… but me and Flash just broke up and I really don’t see you that way-”

The only thing you heard from him was an exasperated ‘what?’ before practically watching the boy fall in slow motion. His eyes rolled to the back of his head and you gasped out loud when his head hit the ground.

“Oh my god, Peter!” Dropping to the ground after him, you immediately move his hair from his eyes and wave your hand in front of his face.

“Are you okay? Parker? Do you know your name? What day is it?” You gave a choppy version of the concussion questions your coaches asked after a particularly bad hit to the head, panic evident in your eyes.

‘Did I just concuss this kid?!’ you thought wildly.

Slowly, he sat up, taking a couple breaths while you kept your hand on his shoulder. “You weren’t supposed to see that,” he said exasperated and you watched his eyes grow twice their size as he glanced to his left.

Storming towards the two of you was a recognizable scowl, an envelope in her hand. Michelle Jones. She was MJ to you, once upon a time, but you couldn’t think of the last time the two of you said a word to each other.

“Oh god!” Peter rolled his eyes, grabbing your attention yet again.

In a blink, the boy had managed to grab your waist and pin you underneath him, one hand was gently caressing your head while the other wrapped underneath you. You couldn’t even take a breath before his lips were on yours, surprise flooding your system. His lips were soft and you hadn’t even realized how your body instantly reacted to him as if you had done this a thousand times before, kissing him in a quick but simple rhythm. But once your brain did register it? You grabbed his face, separating the two of you.

“Parker, the fuck?!-”

“Bye!” He blurted out before letting go of you and running off at a speed you didn’t even think was possible for him.

So this left you, alone, confused, and strangely breathless on the ground.

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