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daisies-and-buttercups · 3 years ago

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“Love and War / Chapter II″ - Luca Changretta x reader

Summary: Waking up to an empty bed and the words that Luca left for you, you soon realise that everything is going to go down today, and you’ll soon have to pick a side.

A/N: I swear that this post took me at least three tries, tumblr kept deleting and/or messing up the formatting so I’m really hoping that this is worth it lol 💕

Words: 2.7k

Chapter I Chapter III

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The next morning you shifted in bed, stretching your arms in search of your lover’s body, but all you felt was the crumpling sheets, still warm from where his body was not too long ago. You groaned, sitting up and scanning the room, eyebrows scrunched into a tired look. If you had to guess what had happened the night before just by looking at your room you wouldn’t have had any clues. Your clothes were neatly folded by the chair and there was no other evidence that anything had indeed happened. No clothes abandoned on the floor, no man lying next to you.

You walked down the stairs almost second guessing yourself, thinking over the night's events while you prepared a cup of coffee that you so desperately craved. Taking a big sip your eyes landed on the small table by the door, only usually adorned by a small plate for your keys and some letters that you hadn’t gotten around to opening yet, now decorated by a beautiful bouquet. You never had flowers around, the item useless and expensive, not something that you could afford with your paycheque, but just with their presence they lit the room up, their delicate perfume filling your lungs. You smiled and walked up to them, lifting the small card up to read it. A simple phrase full of adoration and love, with a few words in Italian, made you blush at the love you felt, but the final sentence made your heart drop.

If today is kind with my soul, I shall meet you in your dreams tonight, mio amore.

His handwriting was smooth and elegant with each word, but the last sentence was slightly messy, revealing his feelings maybe more than he was used to. His fear. He didn’t think he’d make it back.

So today was the day.

You scurried over to the phone, picking it up and calling the Shelbys, hoping that someone, anyone, would answer, but no one did. There was no point in leaving the house, you wouldn’t know where to find them and you had no way of knowing where Luca was either. There were many places where this showdown could happen, and even if you found it, what were you going to do? You couldn’t just waltz in hoping not to get shot. Still, the mix of emotions in your chest made you dizzy. Why didn’t he say anything? You dreaded the images that flashed before your eyes, first that of Tommy’s lifeless body, still clutching his gun, then that of Luca, tumbling as a bullet hit him square in the chest. Tears fell as you pictured those scenarios, but knew that that was all they were. They weren’t real. But even knowing that, you couldn’t stop pacing around the room, counting the minutes and going over the events of the past few weeks. You didn’t know how to feel about this whole ordeal. You never forgot how Tommy and his family welcomed you when you had been left with nothing, giving you a job, food, inviting you over for drinks and celebrations, but as much as you dreamed of it, you’d never be part of them. You fit in, but not fully. You weren’t part of their circle, but you were part of their “clean” life. Tommy made sure to to leave you out of the dirty deeds, even if you gathered what happened behind closed doors, and by doing so he shut you out of the only part of their life that would make you fully fit in with them. Then Luca arrived, and the calls, on the phone that Thomas brought just for you, since you couldn’t afford one in any other way, started becoming less frequent, with less news. No more talking about the business, no more working by their side, no more gossiping with Ada or Polly on Saturday evenings. You still got your salary, somehow left by your door with nothing else attached to it, not even a note, but that didn’t change the stark difference in your routine. You barely felt like family, or whatever you had ended up being, anymore. You felt even more left out now. So when Luca came around and actually listened to you, and talked to you, and shared his interests while asking about yours, you felt appreciated, loved. You had found somewhere where you fitted. And now here you stood, weary of whose death you’d have to cry at the end of the day.

It took hours for the phone to ring with news, which made you jump into alertness, rushing over to answer. “Where is he?” You stayed quiet for a moment, fully expecting to hear Polly’s or Ada’s voice, not Tommy’s. He was alive, and clearly Polly had told him about your meeting with the Italian. “Where is-” “Where is he?” he raised his voice in unison to the loud sound you heard not far from him, probably his fist banging against the table. So they still were both alive. You let a breath out that you were unaware you had been holding, gripping your clothes tightly, adrenaline running in your veins from the news. He didn’t usually raise his voice, so his anger was evident, yet you weren’t sure if it was directed at you or at Luca. He clearly had gotten away, and the thought of that was enough to lift that weight off your chest. “I don’t know, Thomas.” “You knew last night, though, didn’t you? When he was in your bed? Bet it felt good, eh, fucking the enemy?” You didn’t answer, your face blushing in shame and anger. He had no right to spy into your personal life. You knew that in his books you were on the wrong side of the war they were fighting, but his words were harsh, cutting through you without any of the warmth they once held. “Don’t defend a fucking wop. Tell me.” “I don’t know where he is. But this has to end, Thomas, this war you’re-” “Why don’t you tell that to your friend?” He pronounced the last word with sarcasm and hatred, but what hurt him was the betrayal he felt when you made it clear that you cared about him. “I already did. I told him I support neither of your ways. Just stop, someone’s gonna get hurt.“ “And it would be a shame if you got caught in the crossfire.” he spat out, the silence ringing in your ears as if his threat were a slap. “Goodnight, Thomas.” You replied, slamming the phone down, not even sure if he was still there to hear you but not willing to argue anymore. You didn’t stop walking around the halls, hoping that someone else would tell you more about what actually went down, still in the dark, but no one did.

That night you laid in bed, thinking over everything that had happened, or at least what you knew. The fairytale routine you had fallen in with Luca, the fancy restaurants, chivalrous words and tender kisses were taken away from you so soon after they started, leaving you desperate for what you had started growing so used to. Had it not been for the vendetta, he’d probably be here next to you right now, drawing circles on your shoulders with his fingertips, kissing you softly. But he wasn’t here, and all you knew was that he must’ve been alive somehow, since Tommy had no idea as to where he could’ve been. Standing up you took a few steps towards the small balcony, desperate for some fresh air. There was barely enough space to stand on it so you leaned on the window frame, spotting someone moving away just as you glanced down towards the back street. Had you been in a less emotional state you’d have never chased after them, but right now all you wanted were answers. You turned the corner, losing your balance as you slammed into someone, but their hands held you up, pulling you against them. “You shouldn’t have come out here, principessa. You never know who might linger in the dark.” With your mouth agape you stood still for a moment, realising who was standing in front of you and finally wrapping your arms around him, colliding with his chest once more. He let out a low chuckle, melting into your embrace and holding you, feeling your heartbeat calm him down, a natural remedy that only you could provide. Your tears fell freely, wetting his coat while you shivered against him. “Well, lucky me then.” you joked, breathing in his scent, the notes of sandalwood surrounding you. “What happened?” “Nothing. The police got in the way.” he shrugged lightly, his hands still around your waist, pulling you against him. “Thomas was looking for you. He called me.” he nodded, looking around the street for any signs of someone spying on them, but no one was around at this time, but he didn’t care either way. “I’m leaving for Camden Town. I won’t be back for a few days, so you won’t see me for a bit.” “And what are you going to do in Camden Town?” You asked, although you already knew the answer. He wouldn’t stop, and there was only one man in London that had a strong connection to Tommy, and not always a good one. You had never met Alfie Solomons, but you knew enough about him to know where this was going. “Not important. I came to get a goodbye kiss.” his eyes crinkled as he smiled, lifting your chin with his fingers and finding his mouth, kissing you with an initial softness, growing into a hunger that he couldn’t afford right now. He groaned, breaking the kiss, resting his forehead to yours. “What are you planning, Luca?” “Goodnight, dear.” “It’s not gonna end well.” “Goodnight, dear.” He repeated, kissing your forehead and lingering for a moment more, before urging you to walk back home, waiting until you were out of sight to slip away, walking towards the car that would take him to London.

You spent days waiting for something, but there was nothing. No calls, no letters, no news. You picked a few books off your bookshelf, books you had never had the time to read, and scanned the pages, not managing to focus on more than a few pages. It was that dark feeling in your chest that you couldn’t ignore, and the lack of news only made it worse, feeding your mind with the most horrible scenarios. It felt like a blessing, if only for a short moment, when a call arrived shortly after dinner. You were resting your head on the sofa, singing along to some old songs while you stared at your hands, the concept of time slowly slipping away, when you received the news, making you sit up in disbelief. Polly had been brief, delivering the news and nothing more, leaving you clutching your telephone and staring into thin air for what felt like hours. She hadn’t said anything more, leaving you with the feelings that surrounded you. Sadness, rage, hopelessness… everything was bubbling in your chest, a feeling of guilt coating everything, making you feel like you were somehow at fault here, like you hadn’t prevented this. You paced around for most of the night, only pausing your wondering when the realisation hit you again, big tears slipping past your eyes as you recalled the memories of the times shared, stopping your incessant actions at the faint knock at the door early in the morning. “I saw your light on.” he looked behind you, his lips twitching up for a short moment, only to fall back into a stoic look when he met your gaze, clearly seeing the tears that you tried to wipe away before opening the door, your eyes red with sadness and rage. “Tell me you didn’t.” It was a whisper, one that made his heart break. It wasn’t just your expression, nor the redness under your eyes, but your moving away from the door, as if you feared him. “Alfie Solomons-” he started, willing to offer an explanation for his deeds. “I don’t care about Alfie! I asked you to stop this after the vendetta happened!” you shouted, getting closer just to throw punches at his chest, yet no matter your anger you were nothing but gentle, barely making him flinch. “He didn’t stop either.” “Because he’s stubborn. He’s-” “I am too. He killed my men. Just ‘cause you were closer to Arthur doesn’t mean that the death of my men means nothing.” “I don’t want to be part of this anymore.” you announced, slipping from his grasp and moving away, putting as much distance between the two of you as you could. “You never were a part of this.” “Maybe not, but with how things are going I’m going to end up as collateral damage.” “You know I’d never let anything happen to you. Even if you stood by him, I wouldn’t-” You turned and walked up the stairs, ignoring his words and grabbing your traveling bag from the wardrobe as he made his way up, scoffing but following you into the bedroom nonetherless. You picked your clothes and folded them quickly, placing them in the bag and throwing a couple other belongings in. “What are you doing?” He asked, sitting on your bed and stopping your movements by holding your hips, his touch delicate, in harsh contrast with his look. He always felt so… different around you. Delicate, careful, loving. Little things, like the way he remembered what wine you liked, or some of your little quirks, or the softness of his touches when he was near you. After the night where you both fell into your bed, he’d become more open with showing his affection, but before that he never really shied away from it either. His hand gently cradling the small of your back when guiding you into a restaurant, or the brush of his fingers against your cheek when a stray hair got away from behind your ear. “I’m ending it tomorrow.” He announced, avoiding your gaze. “What?” You turned to face him, not fully understanding his plan of attack. “I called a meeting with Thomas.” “To apologise?” “To make a deal.” He corrected you. “But it might not work. So…” He took one of his rings off, holding your hand and placing it in your palm, closing it around it. “To remember me by. Or not. Maybe it’s better to forget me, after all.” He brought your hand to your lips, as if to seal a deal, smiling. “I won’t have to remember you. You’re not going.” Your hand on his arm was supposed to stop him, or slow him down at least, but he just smiled at you as you would with a child that doesn’t fully understand the state the world is in. “I have to finish what I started.” “Luca, don’t.” you tried to give it back, but he shook his head, moving away from you and down the stairs. “Arthur didn’t deserve it.” “He’s the one that pulled the trigger.” You didn’t speak, not knowing what to add. You knew he was referring to the death of his father, but what Arthur had done was almost out of mercy. Tommy wouldn’t have stopped, so he intervened. There were many mistakes he had made in his life, but dying because of an act of mercy wasn’t what he deserved. “Ti amo, bedda mia.” And with a final look he left, not waiting for an answer, exhaling when the door closed behind him. He saw the way you looked at him, the tears that escaped your eyes, feeling betrayed by his actions, but he did what he had to do. “Luca, we’re not finished talking.” Your words had no effect on the man, just like you knew they wouldn’t, but you couldn’t stop yourself from speaking them. It wasn’t only grief that was holding you back now, but fear. For a moment you saw the man just as he had been painted since the beginning: a gangster, a killer, nothing more but a heartless man. You fell back against the wall, clinging on to the ring he had gifted you, the only thing that felt certain right now. You watched as he stepped out, closing the door behind him ever so gently, to avoid making noise, and wondered what hid behind those eyes. How much could you risk for him?

He could feel you looking at him as he made his way out, knowing just how disappointed you were, but he wouldn’t back down. He knew what was going to go down tomorrow, what he’d say, how he'd move, and he’d do anything to have you by his side.

After all, all is fair in love and war.

#luca changretta x reader #luca changretta x you #luca changretta #luca changretta imagine #peaky blinders x reader #peaky blinders fanfic #peaky blinders #love and war fic #Liza's attempts at writing

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oneofthosesimps · 4 years ago

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Martyr

pairing: levi x reader I nsfw

word count: 5729

summary: after a long day and lots of tension, levi takes care of you and fucks you into your dilirium

warnings: choking (i mean like you get no air at all), rough sex, dirtytalk, swearing, sub x dom

authors note: ok, i'm absolutely not satisfied with the fanfic, but i've been sitting on it for way too long and i have to get it out now, because i can't work on anything else. the next one will be better, i promise.

all credits to the artist of this pic

i hope that's right

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"They're miserable" Oluo says to you and wrinkles his nose. You look at Marco Bott in front of you, hanging in the ropes of the ODM gear and trying with all his might to keep his balance.

A gust of air swirls individual leaves around you, causing a few strands of your hair to fall into your face. The ropes of the ODM gear blow back and forth slightly and this small movement completely throws Bott off balance. You can see the effort and sweat beading on his face, he clenches his teeth tightly before panic overcomes him. His body can't find balance and he starts to row his arms, but it's too late. He topples over backwards and with a dull thud his head hits the stone floor. "Pathetic," you mutter, grabbing your forehead with your hand. Actually, such an impact shouldn't even happen, but judging by the appearance, since Bott slipped out of the leather straps, he hadn't fastened them properly. "The students are a disaster," Oluo says in your direction, and you nod slightly at him.

"Okay, Bott, out of the harnesses! Arlert, you're up next!" he shouts to the other group members, then runs to Marco to help him out of his predicament.

Your eyes roam over the other groups and their contraptions. Oluo was right with his statement. It's been a long time since you've seen such a pile of work. There are individual exceptions like Mikasa Ackerman or Annie Leonhardt, but as mentioned before, these are only exceptions. The rest are doing just as poorly as Bott. A long sigh escapes you.

"They are a bunch of shit.” Your hackles stand up and a cold shiver runs down your spine. The goosebumps start at your shoulders and then spread down your arms. Your heart seems to skip a beat.

"Yes, they are, Captain." Oluo stands next to you again and your captain joins in as well. Out of the corner of your eye, you look to your left at Levi, who looks straight ahead with his arms folded in front of his chest.

"Oi, Arlert, you're a disgrace to our troop. Get a grip."

"Yes, sir," Armin shouts back, but you can see the uncertainty Levi's words bring and his whole-body tenses. He also loses his balance, his body swings backwards and he hangs upside down in the ropes, like Marco Bott before - at least he doesn't hit his head.

"What did I tell you!!! Tighten the center!" roars Oluo, stomping his feet as he makes his way to Arlert.

A breeze comes up again, stronger this time, and the cadets have great difficulty keeping their balance. In fact, everyone sails back, except, to your surprise, Connie Springer, who is cheered on by the rest of his group. You pull your jacket tighter around you, hoping it would catch some of the spring wind, but you shiver anyway.

"Your jaw is tight," Levi's deep voice says beside you, and you turn your gaze to him in surprise. His grey eyes look down at you from above and you swallow hard. He's such a handsome man. His shoulders show well through his uniform and his shirt tightens a bit at his chest due to his muscles. His eyes sparkle slightly from the sun shining on his face. The wind has spread some hair on his forehead and your fingertips start to tickle. How you would like to brush them away. You clench your hands into fists to stop yourself.

"Didn't even realize it," you reply, turning your gaze back to Oluo and Arlert to stay calm. Your heart drums a little in your chest. Your comrade is trying his best to help him and give him instructions and assistance.

"To be honest, your whole body is tense". You feel Levi's calm gaze still resting on you and you put your head back and stare at the sky. A few clouds drift across the sky, white and fluffy.

"It's been a busy day, too." Your eyes shift back to him and you both look into each other's eyes. His grey eyes seem almost a bright silver. He studies you more closely and the corners of his mouth lift up ever so slightly. "Understandable, with this bunch of idiots." You roll your eyes and have to grin slightly before sighing again. It was admittedly leaching to complete the first training sessions with new cadets. They are all so full of anticipation before harsh reality catches up with them and about a third of all are sent back home - if they still have a home after Wall Maria was breached and Shiganshina District had to be left.

Of course, it was little different for you back then, but you performed solidly right from the start and made it to the top 3 of all graduates after hard training. That was also the reason why Levi included you in his squad.

Nonetheless, you just got annoyed and wanted a break from all the frustration and instruction you had to give. Being a teacher is not the reason you joined the Survey Corps.

Levi is just opening his mouth to say something when Petra's loud voice echoes across the square.

"Captain, I need your help." Over Levi's shoulder, you can see her, hands flailing in the air. Levi clicks his tongue and his expression changes, becomes slightly annoyed. You do the same. He leans over to you, his head right next to yours. His strong scent of black tea and citrus rises to your nose and your knees go weak. His hot breath hits the shell of your ear and goosebumps cover your body again. "I'll make you feel better later." Your heart starts beating faster and a deep blush settles over your cheeks. You hold your breath as he turns and walks with strong strides back to his spot by Petra, the Wings of Freedom emblazoned large on his back.

"Tch, I haven't seen a fucking weakling like that in a long time, Yaeger," you hear him shout further back. Again, a slight grin comes over you.

"Ma'am, can you help me with the straps?" calls Christa Renz over to you. She snaps you out of your thoughts and you come back to yourself. You expel your long-held breath and make your way over to her.

The rest of the training was like chewing gum compared to before. The remaining part of your group wasn't a total bust, but Levi's words left a sweet note and butterflies in your stomach. Your whole body tingled with joy and the scenarios in your head took their own course. Every now and then your gaze swung to Levi, even as you have pulled yourself together, but the temptation was far too great. And then when he caught your gaze, you could see the change in him even across the distance. At one point you even thought he winked at you, which was the most uncharacteristic thing ever for him, but just the pure thought that you were right made your knees weak again. For this reason, you were more concerned with your students, who were not very happy about it. You had the reputation of being almost as strict as Levi - but with less insults - and that although your size made you look more like a dwarf. At the end of the training, the Levi Squad then condemned the worst to clean up the mess. The sun was lower by now, it was late afternoon and the wind was blowing stronger. You walked together as a group back to the large building and followed the cadets to the mess hall.

As usual, you took your food first before the rest could strike, which you were more than happy about. At least on days when there was meat, it was always an advantage for everything and everyone to fill their plates before Sasha Blouse. Her love for food was immeasurable. After her, there wasn't that much left for others to lead and sharing was out of the question for her. You plod along behind Eld with your full plate and settle into the seat next to him and Oluo.

"What a day, huh guys?" groans Petra, sliding onto the bench across from you, followed by Gunther and then Levi, who grabs the seat across from yours.

You stare at the potatoes, meat and bread in front of you and start eating, almost burning yourself.

The others do the same, while Levi drinks his tea and lets his gaze roam the room to observe the other cadets.

"There, you say something. I wonder when it's going to be expedition time again. Time to kill some titans again, isn't it?" grins Oluo next to you, poking you in the side. You give him a dry look. "You mean so I can do all the work again and you can rest?" Oluo blushes slightly, whether from anger or shame, and slashes at the table with his knife in his right hand.

"I was here long before you even got around to it, kid".

"That makes your 39 kills all the sadder," you mock, and the others stifle their laughter.

Oluo contorts his face and is about to open his mouth when Eld slaps him on the back, "Oh Oluo, I can still remember when you wet yourself on your first expedition."

The blow startles Oluo slightly and he yelps in pain. He slaps his hand over his mouth and contorts his face. "I bit my tongue," he mumbles, which really makes the others laugh now. You, on the other hand, just roll your eyes again and are pleased inwardly.

No matter how much you get on each other's nerves sometimes, you are a family that always stands up for each other. Most of the happy moments you can still remember were spent with this group. Each had its strengths and weaknesses, which in turn compensated for another. Your gaze falls on each of them as they still laugh and Oluo still complains before you look at Levi.

Again, your breath catches slightly. His gaze pierces you and holds you spellbound. He looks at you as he slowly eats. A shiver runs down your spine again and you press your legs together. His gaze is intense and deep, going straight to your soul. His silver eyes are darker and possessive. No one at the table seems to notice what's happening, as Levi has always been good at hiding your personal moments. It's a mystery to you how he did it since you always felt caught and like your body didn't really belong to you. He was the one thing that always upset you and left you breathless. You smile slightly at him and his gaze darkens even more, making you swallow.

"Captain, how about a little break for us tonight? We could all sit down together for a bit and have a little drink," Petra catches your attention. She blushes slightly and you have to suppress the gagging. Never, never, would Levi ever feel anything for Petra. Everyone liked her, including him and yourself, of course, but not in that way. They were much too different for that and didn't have the same goals. But you had already noticed how Petra looked at Levi and blushed and bit her lip and stroked through her hair and smiled and laughed extra and positioned herself well and always stood next to him, sat down, tried to work with him, always addressed him directly, took him in protection. You were never jealous because Levi never gave you a reason to be, but Petra made it really hard for you sometimes. Especially since no one, except Hange, of course, knew about how things were between Levi and you.

"Oi, your hand," Gunther says, touching it. You recoil and realize how your hand hurts. You clutch your knife tightly, your knuckles white. Everyone is looking at you. You let go of it and it falls to the table before you mumble a quiet apology and continue eating. Speaking of which, you were bad at hiding your feelings for Levi. The others let go of you and turn their attention back to Petra and Levi.

"Tch, do what you want, I still have workto do". Petra looks slightly disappointed and starts eating again. The rest of the meal was quieter as everyone was busy filling their bellies. Eld and Gunther are the first to leave before Levi raises his voice. "Oi, Petra, take my dishes away as soon as you finished". The girl seems hopeful for a brief moment before Levi smashes her hopes. He looks at you and your almost empty plates. "... And the other one here too".

With these words he straightens up. You look up at him. "Would you help me just now?" His eyes show a sparkle again and your gaze falls on Petra and Oluo for a brief moment before you nod. With those words, he trots off. You quickly get up, say goodbye, and walk after him. Your path past the cadets is quiet and the murmuring around you also quiets, which always happened when Levi was around. No one would dare to accidentally say something that might upset him. Levi headed for the stone stairs in the hallway, down the long hallway to the door of his office. A few torches flicker on the wall, lighting your way, even with the sun still providing more than enough light from outside. All the while, you follow him quietly until he unlocks the door and both of you step inside.

You close the door behind you with a soft click and turn around. Levi is standing in front of you with his arms folded in front of his chest. He leans slightly against his desk and examines you from top to bottom. The evening sun shines through the window behind him and strong shadows stand out on his face. "How are you?" You bite your lower lip and swallow hard. "Pretty good, I guess," you say and avert your gaze, looking down at the ground. You continue to feel his gaze and you blush slightly. Your breathing gets a little heavier and you swallow again. The tension in this room is heavy and oppressive. The energy between you is crackling and the hairs on your arms are standing up. It is amazing how different Levi could behave. Toward everyone else on the planet, he was an ass, no question about it. But to you, he treated you like you were a flower that would wilt if he didn't take proper care of it. You bite your lower lip. Levi's footsteps come toward you until he's standing right in front of you and you can look at his shoes. He puts a finger under your chin and lifts your face. His eyes are impenetrable, and he can probably read you again like one of his books.

"You know better than to bite your lip," he whispers to you. He places his left hand against the door behind you and leans against you. His eyes pull you in before you close them and feel his lips on yours. In the background, you hear him turn the key in the lock, locking you in this room. His teeth graze over your bottom lip and he captures it, sucking on it before releasing it. "I'll do that for you, won't I?" A low moan escapes you and you open your eyes again. He was even closer to you, your noses almost grazing each other, and his hot breathing and warmth befuddle you.

"Remember what I promised you earlier?" You nod and lick your lips. His gaze immediately darts to that movement before he looks into your soul again. "Repeat it."

"You promised me that you would make me feel better".

A slight smile curls his lips and he takes your face in his right hand. You nestle into it and your heart flutters.

"So, do you still want this?" What a question, you think and nod slightly, kissing the inside palm of his hand and staring at him. Please make me feel good. Again, he has to smirk slightly and presses a feather-light kiss to your forehead before stepping away from you, taking his warmth with him. He steps back to his desk and resumes his previous posture there. His face and body tension are harder and his eyes seem much darker than before.

"Take off your clothes," comes his instruction. His voice is also low and hard. You look at him a little unsettled and surprised before you start undoing the buttons of your blouse. His gaze follows your movements and he tilts his head slightly. You kick your shoes aside. The removal of your pants in particular seems to fascinate him, and you swear you saw a sparkle in his eyes as your bra and panties follow the other garments as well. So, you stand in front of him, shivering slightly from the temperature difference, causing your nipples to poke hard at him and your skin to be covered in goosebumps again. He licks his lips and takes off his jacket, placing it on his desk behind him. He undoes the straps that wrap around his torso and sets them aside as well.

"Kneel down." You do as you were told and kneel on the cold wooden floor. This causes the cold to shoot more strongly through your body and you shake yourself slightly. Levi is still watching you and slowly lets his gaze roam over you. After your next blink, he rises and steps to the other side of his desk, which faces his window. He opens the first drawer on the left and pulls out something. After closing it, he comes back to your side and slowly steps towards you. You are a little surprised at what he just did since you can't see anything in his hands. He stops in front of you and looks down. You follow his hands, which reach for the buttons of his shirt, which he then slowly opens bit by bit. His gaze stares at you again, while he moves as if in slow motion. For you, it was all much too slow and with each button your heart beat a beat faster again. If it were up to you, you would have torn it from his body so that the buttons would fly across the room. But your hands remain still in your lap as you wait for each button. Finally arriving at the last one, he undoes it as well before slipping his shirt off his torso. His shoulders and arms work as he does so, and your knees soften. You love his body, he's a god. With all the years of training and fighting experience, it goes without saying that he is trained, but his cross and arms especially make your heart weak. You don't know what that is because of, but it's just a preference of yours on him. One of the many you have to mention about it. And you love every single scar from his skin you've run along them so many times with your lips and fingers. Slowly your temperature changes. Your body becomes warm and you notice how your center becomes moist. He reaches into his right pants pocket and pulls out a long piece of rope. Your breath catches and your eyes widen. Levi still just looks at you and plays with it a bit, tightens it and let’s go again. As he does, the muscles under his skin play again, looking indescribable with the setting sun in the background. Veins come out from under his skin and you pull your eyebrows together in frustration. He shines like a saint that you love to cling to so that he can keep all the evil in the world away from you.

"Hands behind your back." Immediately you do as he said and follow him as long as you can with your gaze as he walks around you and then kneels behind you. His fingers are warm as they graze your skin and he ties the rope around your wrists to join your two hands together. After he's done, he runs his hands up your arms, touching the haunches above your collarbones for seconds before pulling his hands away again.

"Close your eyes," he whispers in your right ear. The last thing you see before your eyes flutter shut are the last rays of the sun, which bathe the room in a deep orange-red. You feel something being placed over your eyes. Levi ties the piece of cloth to the back of your head and then rises. As soon as you realize he's done, your eyes open briefly, only to see deep black. Butterflies spread through your lower stomach and you press your lips together to stifle a moan. With excitement and anticipation, you feel more wetness between your legs and squirm slightly to create some pressure, but to no avail. Now without sight, you rely more on your ears and the sounds of the environment around you. Levi moves quietly around the room, you locate him at his desk and hear him light a match. The smell of smoke fills the room. When he seems to be finished, he moves back toward you. You hear the rattle of the buckles of his belts, which then fall to the floor with a sound. He loosens one strap after another until the sounds stop. You feel his presence in front of you and squeeze your legs together again. Fabric rustles before it's quiet again. Suddenly, a hand reaches into your hair and pulls your head almost painfully to the back of your neck. Air escapes your throat and you make a surprised sound.

"Open your mouth." Levi's voice seems even deeper than usual and hard, almost cold. You open it on command and stick out your tongue. You hear him smirk and feel one of his fingers, which slowly works its way to your throat. "I raised you so well," Levi murmurs, and you suck on his finger. Shortly after, two more join him. "I'm going to use you so well. You're going to do exactly what you were made to do: choke on my cock and milk it afterwards." A long moan escapes you and you suck on his fingers, your tongue playing with them before withdrawing them again. A feather-light touch brushes over your left nipple and you sigh. "I saw the look on your face earlier. How shamelessly you fantasize about such things while your cadets are in front of you and that idiot Oluo is standing next to you. How I would have loved to take his place". Your saliva causes your nipples to harden again as the cold air swirls around them. The hand in your hair loosens. Shortly after, you feel something warm and soft against your lips. Your mouth opens again and you groan. Levi's cock slides between your teeth into the roof of your mouth and he moans out too. "Fuck, finally." You feel the wetness between your legs run down your thigh before it drips onto the floor. Levi's hand finds its way into your hair again, and he pulls his hips back before they shoot forward again and his cock buries itself in your mouth once more. He holds this speed for some time. You get warmer and warmer, especially at the thought of you kneeling there right now in front of him and him using your mouth. "You're doing so good, slut," Levi murmurs from above, thrusting harder. The sound of your mouth smacking and his increasingly heavy breathing echoes through the room. You taste a few drops of his juice and your eyes roll back into your skull. Again, a long moan escapes you and the hand in your hair grips harder. Slight pain jolts through your scalp and goosebumps form on your skin again.

"Your mouth is so warm and wet. Just not as tight as your cunt, but I can change that". His cock finds its way deeper into your throat, almost hitting the back it before withdrawing completely. For a brief moment you feel his lips on yours, his tongue exploring the path his cock had paved earlier. He tastes himself on your lips and wants much more of it. The kiss is wild and he leaves you with throbbing, swollen lips. "Tongue out." Before you can take a breath, you're sticking it out at him again. He slaps his cock on it a few times before burying himself inside you again with one smooth thrust. His entire length fills your mouth, and you gag slightly as his tip sticks way too deep in your throat. Levi doesn't let up though, keeping you that way before resuming his previous speed and hardness. You squeeze your eyes shut, but tears escape your eyelids anyway. They wet the fabric on your eyes and find their way along under it, flowing down your cheeks and dripping on your legs. The more your throat hurts, the heavier Levi's breathing becomes. His balls hit your chin and his second hand finds its way into your hair as well, holding you in place.

"You feel so good," his deep, dry voice comes out. "...The way you sit here in front of me and suck me so good. Other men dream about it. Who would believe what a slut you are?" You moan and the vibration makes him wince and he claws into your scalp. As best you can, you slide your tongue around his shaft, grasping his tip, sucking on him while his hips keep thrusting. Your mouth and neck feel painful and your jaw hurts from the constant mouthing. As your tongue touches his balls, his hips twitch and he pulls back breathlessly. His cock pulls out of you again and you gasp for air. You cough heavily and saliva runs down the corners of your mouth.

Suddenly, Levi's hands push at your hips and pull you upward. Your legs are jello, which is why he catches your weight and supports you. The soles of your feet touch the ground for only a few moments before you feel his shoulder against your stomach and your face comes to rest on his back. The air is forced from your lungs and blood rushes to your head. He grips the rope at your wrists, thus holding you tight before he moves. “Levi, I want more”, you mumble and feel the juice running between your legs. He opens the door to his bedroom and carries you to his bed, where he lays you down somewhat roughly. The room smells like him. The bed linen is freshly washed, which is normal for him. The smell of tea is also heavy in the air, as well as its own note, which is that of Levi himself. “Tch, it's clear to me that you little bitch can't get enough. But do not worry, my big cock will fill you up in a minute.”

He turns you onto your stomach and pulls your butt up and towards him. You feel his warm breath at your center and your muscles tremble. "Aren't you ashamed of yourself for being so wet?" He blows against your wet lips and you squirm slightly under him. You feel his tongue licking once along your slit. You moan loudly as you finally get some touch before his hand hits your right ass cheek and you howl in pain. Without warning, his cock drills deep into your cunt and your moans mingle in the small space, echoing out to you. Immediately, Levi picks up the pace he had earlier while fucking your mouth. You jerk beneath him, moaning into the mattress beneath you, and your fingernails each dig into the wrist of the other arm. Again, Levi's hand closes around the rope and he pulls you up to him, grasping your throat with his other hand and biting your shoulder. You moan his name loudly and press against the warmth of his chest. He licks over the bite marks and fucks you harder. Your walls close tightly around his cock and he moans loudly next to your ear. "How tight can you get?" he murmurs, and his hand around your throat squeezes tighter. His fingers are right against your main arteries. Your air gets shorter, your pulse beats faster to push the blood into your head, but because of the pressure from his fingers it doesn't work. Light panic overcomes you and mixes with your lust. "Levi...I-I," you try to say before everything around you goes black. Your whole-body collapses and you can't finish your sentence. He immediately releases the pressure of his hand before you finally lose consciousness and the blood rushes back to your head. The difference in pressure makes you dizzy as you slowly regain consciousness. His thrusts don't stop, his endurance was immeasurable. He moans into your neck and your whole belly tingles with satisfaction. Your moans get louder again.

"Again?"

"Yes," you groan out. You hear him laugh softly before the pressure around your throat intensifies again and the scenario from just now repeats itself. The mixture of dizziness and pleasure is a deadly mix. Nothing feels better and you want more, more and more, but Levi knows exactly when to stop before he puts your little body through too much. As you come to yourself again, Levi loosens his hand around the rope and wraps his arm around your stomach. He presses you tighter against him, holding your weak body tight. "You're the biggest slut," he murmurs against your ear. The hand on your belly slowly strokes to your pelvic bones, slowly finding its way between your legs. He circles your clit with his middle finger, making you twitch and squirm against his chest as you praise his name. His lips settle on your neck, beginning to suck as his hand pushes deeper. He feels his own cock thrusting into you and adds his index and middle fingers, burying them in your creamy hole as well, which they grip tightly, and your moans grow louder again. No one must ever know what Levi does with you during all those hours in his bedroom. No one would probably believe it. How many marks he has left on your body, how many times he has cut off your air, how many times he has fucked you into unconsciousness, left your cunt sore. If Levi would be a religion, you would be its first martyr.

You lay your head in your neck and his hand around your throat rests on your forehead, pressing your head back. This makes it easier for him to get to your throat with his mouth. He licks away the sweat next to the mark before making more. "I'm so sick of no one knowing what I do to you," he hums against your neck. "I'm so fed up with the fact that some complete idiots actually still think they have a chance with you, can fuck you the way I'm doing right now". At these words he fucks you incessantly, his two fingers in addition inside you, which stretch you further and you are in heaven. Your delirium is near. He feels his way forward, curves his fingers, massages the inside of your walls. He just can't get to your g-spot due to the extra space his dick takes up and you will think you are going insane. "Even though yes I love how jealous you get of Petra. Tch, as if I would touch that filthy bitch." His thrusts get even harder and your whole-body tenses, groaning in pain. "No one can give me what you give me," he whispers. No one could give him the power he had over you. He could do whatever he wanted with you and you would get wet with lust and horniness. You were a dream come true, not just in that way. Levi loves you more than anything else in the world, even if he never says it, but deep inside you know it.

The thumb of his hand moves between your legs again to your clitoris and presses against it. A second, two seconds pass before you explode. Your vision goes white despite your blindfold, your body writhes, the muscles in your thighs twitch wildly, and you scream the room together. His name falls from your lips again as he fucks you through your orgasm. Each thrust brings sparks, his lips on your neck and his hands on and inside you. As your body slowly calms, he releases you, removes his hands, and pushes you back into the mattress. Your face shifts over the fabric before he has you back in the right position. His right leg settles next to your hip and you hear the bed creak beneath you. He continues to increase his speed, getting harder. His head settles into your neck and he moans loudly as he fucks you, finally meeting his end. Tears run down your cheeks as your body is drained, screaming at you to take a break. But the sensation between your legs pulls through your body again, making you moan once more. His hands dig painfully into your ass before Levi explodes inside you. His juice squirts into you and your name falls from his lips, giving you butterflies again. He thrusts with light strokes before gradually slowing down and dropping against your body.

He gives himself a brief moment before rising from you and untying your hands. without any remaining body tension, you fall onto the mattress beneath you and tear the blindfold from your head. The room is dark. The sun has set in time and your sense of time is confused. The light from the candle in the office brings a little light into the room, so that you can make out the outlines of the furniture.

"Better?" You hum to him and snuggle into the blanket beneath you. "Oi, I'll run us a bath, don't fall asleep." You grumble again and look after him as he leaves you alone and drained in the dark room.

#captain levi #aot #levi ackerman #attack on titan #aot x you #levi x you #levi x reader #levi x y/n #snk smut #shingeki no kyoujin

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szivtalan · 3 years ago

Text

love is in the words unspoken

all these moments are golden,

forever is mine with you

the blossoming of the cherry trees always puts hawks in a strange mood. he thinks they’re romantic, magical - reminds him of a time when he was more naive, more dreamy, didn’t know much about the world. it’s nostalgic, to see the carpet of sakura petals on the streets, reminding him of what is and what could’ve been.

‘hawks!’

it’s ironic that he runs into endeavor’s child just as the flowers begin to fall.

‘hey, it’s todoroki.’ he grins, glancing at the two heroes behind the one already rushing up to him: deku and dynamight. ah yes, the three musketeers, as they call themselves. it’s nice to see the top three teaming up that way. ‘where’s the honorific though, kiddo? i’m still much older than you.’

‘not that much.’ shoto replies, and it feels like a shot to the heart. that’s right... they’re both in their twenties now. ‘and i figured i’d drop the honorifics now that i’m above you on the hero ranking list.’

the tilt of his head would be adorable if he weren’t such an asshole. tokoyami was right when he said that his youngest was different than endeavor - hawks only wished to see such a playful side of him.

‘the disrespect.’ hawks laughs, slapping shoto on the shoulder. he hits harder than what would be necessary, but the boy doesn’t even bat an eye. sturdy. and tall. holy shit, is he taller than hawks now? ‘anyway, i really don’t mind. are you guys patrolling around here?’

‘GET YOUR ASS BACK HERE HALF-AND-HALF, BEFORE I GO THERE AND BEAT IT!’ one youngster yells at them.

‘kacchan, don’t be so rude! he’s talking to hawks-san!’

‘friendly bunch.’ hawks snorts, and shoto just shakes his head with a smile.

‘they’re the best. i’m just trying to catch up.’ he admits, sounding sincere.

‘DON’T IGNORE ME, FUCKFACE!’

‘what are you doing around here anyway?’ shoto asks. ‘isn’t your office in a different city?’

‘yeah, i just came here to stretch my wings, take a walk.’ hawks says, ruffling his feathers a little for emphasis.

‘are you walking on your wings?’

‘n-no...?’

‘then how-’

‘WRAP IT UP NOW!’ at dynamight’s next shout, shoto visibly flinches. he seems more irritated than scared, at least to hawks.

‘i just wanted to thank you for helping my dad all those years ago.’ shoto says then, bowing his head a little. hawks takes it back, he doesn’t have an ounce of disrespect in his body. he’s just a little warped in the social area, and hawks has a fairly good guess where he gets that from. ‘i’ll be going now.’

‘wait, ah- how, how’s the old man?’ hawks tries to aim for anything but desperate. ‘i haven’t heard from him since the retirement.’

shoto looks at him thoughtfully, and those dual-colored eyes make hawks immeasurably nervous. he feels like he’s staring into his soul, opening up the secrets he’s got locked inside.

‘he’s well. i go home on weekends.’ shoto says, pulling up a notebook and a pen. ‘here’s the address. i think he’d appreciate the visit.’

the road to the todoroki estate was the most tiring one hawks had taken in a while. it’s not like it was far from where they met with shoto, but he spent the entire time worrying if he’s dressed well for the occasion, if he should just walk instead of flying to not get gross and sweaty - if endeavor will even let him in, or he’ll just pass by and get told off.

the house is huge, traditional, designed in classic enji taste. hawks could see the roof from a street away, almost walks into a lamppost while staring, his heart picking up the speed both from the scare and the nerves. his feet feel heavier with every step, walking down the street, finally getting to the gate-

and seeing todoroki enji, former number one hero, the feared endeavor sweep the walkway to his door, the scene way too casual to not send an already spring-up hawks into hysterics.

‘what the hell is that?’ hawks spits, laughter erupting from deep in his belly. the look on endeavor’s face just makes him shriek louder, his abs clenching with it. ‘is that- a fucking broom for ants, endeavor, you look so funny-’

‘can’t a man just do his chores in peace?!’ endeavor’s yelling now; sparks fly on his heated skin, and then they burst into flames.

‘now that’s the endeavor-san i know and love.’ he laughs, holding onto his own stomach, wiping his tears. endeavor’s face appears red under all that fire, he walks up to the gate to let him in.

‘what are you doing here, anyway?’ he mumbles, extinguishing himself as hawks walked in. he holds his broom under his armpit rather awkwardly, with the gracelessness of a man not quite used to doing the cleaning. hawks looks at him, observes: the slouch in his shoulders, the specks of grey in his stubble, the blush high on his cheek, the early wrinkles. he smiles to himself, reasons unknown, buried deep in a secluded part of his heart.

‘ran into your kid downtown, he said i should drop by and say hello.’ hawks lifts the nylon bags he’s been carrying, offers a lopsided grin. ‘i brought takeout.’

‘hmpft.’ endeavor is elaborate, as always. a man of few words and plenty actions, something hawks has always admired in him. ‘you can stay. only for the food.’

‘so you’re still very much hopeless in the kitchen, eh?’

‘don’t make me change my mind, brat!’

the house is huge on the inside, at least five bedrooms, two bathrooms, a big kitchen and dining room, and one living room all fit into one floor. all of it echoes from their steps, empty and lonely.

‘your boy said that he’s visiting you on weekend.’ hawks pries, shrugging his coat off as he hands over the bag. his fingers brush against endeavor’s fight-hardened, calloused ones and his heart feels like it could jump out of his chest again.

‘whenever he has the time. shoto’s a busy man.’ endeavor nods, his voice dripping with pride. hawks doesn’t need him to say any more to know how fond he is of his son. it makes him smile, actually. ‘why?’

‘and the rest of your family?’ he asks, a little more cautious.

‘i see rei and natsuo on holidays, and fuyumi usually spends her school breaks here.’ enji sets down the bag at the low table, grabs a pair of chopsticks from the dish rack. there are plates piled high there: it seems like he can clean up after himself, but refuses to put things away. hawks figures it’s pretty comfortable, considers that for a second before he realizes how much he can see into endeavor’s private life.

they sit down at the same time, and their eyes meet. ‘i’m not lonely.’ enji immediately turns defensive. there’s probably pity or sadness in hawks’ eyes, he wasn’t paying attention to his expression for a second.

‘i wasn’t suggesting you were.’

‘being alone is something i deserve. so i take my punishment with pride and strength.’ enji squares his shoulder, sitting up impossibly straight at his uncomfortable seat. he takes the boxes out, scatters them across the table for them to reach. no plates, though. ‘itadakimasu.’

they eat mostly in silence, warm, comfortable, and hawks can’t take his eyes off him. endeavor looks so casual, so approachable like this. he looks soft, in the slightly frayed sweatpants, a little weary from use, and the soft cotton shirt hugging his bulging muscles, stretching across his enormous shoulders. his face is a little thin, the wrinkles obvious on its unharmed half. from this close, hawks can see the grey hairs on his temple, too.

‘i’m looking for a place to stay.’ hawks announces once they’re finished eating. the look of surprise and something else - hope? no, it can’t be... - flashing across endeavor’s face startles him, but he’s not about to back down, now. ‘what-... ugh, how much do you think you’d rent out a room for?’

‘what?’ endeavor appears shell-shocked. ‘wh- why?’

‘well, because my apartment building is remodeling, and i’m pretty sick of living in the busier side of the city anyway. figured i’d change it up, move into the suburbs-’

‘that’s not what i’m asking.’ he snaps. ‘why me? don’t you have friends who’d let you stay with them?’

‘not anyone i’d like to move in with.’ hawks shrugs, playing with a few leftover grains of rice. ‘you know, i can cook, and i’m also willing to dry off and put away your damn dishes.’

‘hawks...’

‘c’mon, we can have sleepovers! i can braid your hair and you can braid mine. it will be fun!’

‘i can’t let you do that, hawks.’

‘okay, yes, i admit, your mane’s a little short for a proper french braid, but i can make do-’

‘hawks.’ enji’s voice booms. ‘no.’

‘you’ve known me for almost a decade, old man.’ hawks is talking back, suddenly fired up. ‘why won’t you just let me take care of you?’

‘because i’m a perfectly capable person who doesn’t need anyone to take care of them.’ he huffs, steam seeping from his nose. ‘and because i can’t let you do that to yourself.’

‘what, enji?’ he’s loud. is he shouting? he can’t tell.

‘waste your time on a bitter old man who isn’t worthy of you.’

now they’re pulling up the big guns. hawks deflates, props his head up on his elbows.

‘retired, but still on your self-deprecating bullshit.’ he sighs. ‘will you take it to the grave?’

‘hawks, i’m serious-’

‘and i’ve been serious, too. my entire life, about my feelings for you. you kept shaking me off, saying it wasn’t appropriate for someone your age dating someone so young, saying you were married, but all this time, i kept getting refused because you hate yourself too much to allow yourself to be loved?’

hawks doesn’t know when he stood up, but he’s falling to his knees beside enji now.

‘what kind of an asshole does that...?’ he whispers, staring right into enji’s fearful eyes.

‘an asshole who cares about you.’ enji murmurs, letting hawks hit him in the chest.

‘this isn’t “caring” about someone! this is just lying to yourself and keeping yourself from being happy!’ his fingers tangle in the front of his shirt, pulling him closer.

‘keigo-’ enji hisses, losing his balance and gripping the edge of the table so he doesn’t fall against the other man.

‘tell me no.’ hawks proposes, his free hand coming up to cradle his jaw, so prickly and manly and strong, the shudder that ripples through him from the gentle touch, making him so weak and vulnerable. ‘no more running away, enji, no more games. tell me no right now, and i won’t ever bother you again.’

endeavor furrows his brows, the skin around his scar pulling grotesquely over his face with the struggle. he takes a deep breath, and hawks gets goosebumps as the hot air from the exhale hits his skin.

‘i can’t...’ enji whispers, and hawks can barely hear over the sound of his heart shattering. he starts to let go, but he forgets to breathe and move altogether as enji leans in instead, hand coming up to hold him close by the back of his head. ‘i can’t say no, not anymore...’

the first touch of lips against his have his insides flutter, almost working him into a panicked frenzy. he can only hope that enji can’t feel his heart beating in his throat as he kisses him, deep and desperate and oh so careful. hawks clings into him, lets him chase him for a change, holds on for the ride.

when they separate, hawks feels dizzy, drunk with heat and pleasure. enji looks just about as much present, he seems dumbfounded.

‘well, uh.’ he says, and hawks would kick anyone who says he doesn’t have a way with words.

‘i can come on thursdays and fridays.’ he offers, for now. ‘that way your kids can still have you on weekends.’

‘thanks.’ that’s all endeavor says before he pushes a few stray strands of hair back from hawks’ face, leans in for another kiss.

it’s a date, then.

#bnha #endhawks #anime #enho #todoroki enji #takami keigo #todoroki shouto #vmine #fluff #future fic #oh look at me not respecting my art and writing in a tumblr post again #oh but well i worked on it all afternoon so enjoy?#tododekubaku #if u squint lol #bakugo katsuki #midoriya izuku

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system76 · 4 years ago

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Behind the Scenes of System76: Industrial Design

Since moving into a factory space in 2018, System76 has delved deeper and deeper into manufacturing hardware in-house. Three years later, we’ve introduced five Thelio desktops, fine-tuned the hardware, developed our fully configurable Launch keyboard, and optimized our production processes. Helming the design process is Mechanical Engineer John Grano, who wears a number of different hats here. We sat down with John this week to discuss industrial design and the team behind our beautiful open source hardware.

How would you describe industrial design for people unfamiliar with the term?

To me, industrial design is basically the art of making something into a usable product. In industrial design, you have to balance looks and function, and that drives your form. It’s kind of like hardware UX in that it’s really important to have the right feel. If you can make the system connect better with people, they’ll like it more. Adding that softness we do with Thelio, like slightly rounded edges and darker wood, it makes it a little more approachable to have a semi-natural looking system and not something that’s blinking at you with red lights all the time.

System76 itself is a group of hardcore programmers and people that are really into Linux, but I think the idea of trying to democratize Linux is extremely important. If you can create something that doesn’t have that robotic aesthetic, it will provide people with something that feels more familiar and usable. No one really wants to go sit in a car that looks like a square with wheels on it. They want something that makes them feel something, maybe openness or comfort, when they’re in it.

What inspired you to get into mechanical engineering, and how did you end up at System76?

The way my brain works lends itself well to engineering, for better or for worse. There’s a lot of really solid engineers who don’t have much creativity, and then there are a lot of people who have great creative ability, but can’t do math. I kind of fluctuate in the middle; I wouldn’t say I’m the best at math or the most creative person in the entire world, but I have enough of each that the combination pushed me towards mechanical engineering. I like working with my hands, and it’s more of a study of how things work in the real world versus computer science, which is a purely digital and nontangible practice.

During school I worked mainly as a bike mechanic, and that helped me to think about how to build things better. That led me to my first internship at a bike company working in a wind tunnel, which was really fun. Realizing that I could probably never get a job there—or at least one that would pay me enough to live—I started working at an environmental engineering company, where I prototyped scientific sampling systems for R&D that would process materials with all these gasses at really high heat and tried not to die. It was kind of fun making these large-scale systems that were basically just gigantic science experiments, but I didn’t really have the creative outlet I wanted in terms of making something that looks good.

One of the main things that drew me to System76 was being able to have a solid influence on what tools we were able to use and how we were going to push the design. In the past three years, it’s pretty wild to see what we’ve been able to accomplish coming from a completely empty warehouse to being able to crank out parts.

I had also previously, while working at these scientific instrument companies, been working with a local company to design and develop a cargo bicycle, so I had that experience as well in terms of consumer product development with overseas manufacturing. I think that helped get me in the door here.

Let’s talk a bit about your team. Who do you collaborate with on a typical day?

It’s a very small team and everyone does a lot. I pretty much lead the mechanical engineering team slash design team...slash manufacturing team. Being a small company, we are all wearing a bunch of different hats. Aside from doing the initial design work on all of our Thelio desktops and the Launch keyboard, I also program our laser-punch machine and our brake press and run through all of the design for manufacturing hang ups that show up. Those changes tend to be a result of our current tools, and internal capabilities.

Crystal came on last August as our first CNC Machinist. She heads up all of the machining, trains our operators, makes sure our parts are coming out in a nice clean fashion, and has done a lot of work on minimizing machine time and maximizing the parts we can get out. She also provides really great feedback on what's possible and what kind of special fixtures or tools we'll need to make for a specific part. Around the same time we picked up our first Haas 3-axis CNC mill to start working on the Launch project. That led to some other opportunities to make parts for Thelio and improve the feel of some of the parts that we were pumping out.

We just hired Cary, who came from a similar background as me in consumer product development, as well as low-scale scientific machine development. He’s going to help build manufacturing tools for us, and he’s only been here now for two or three weeks. Going forward, Cary will be heading up the Thelio line long-term, and I’ll be moving to some interesting R&D work.

And Zooey?

Zooey doesn’t really do much. She just kind of sits there and waits for people to feed her their lunch. I take her out for walks during the day so she can get away from everyone petting her. She doesn’t like when they do that.

What was the R&D process like for Launch?

Launch is a less complicated product in that we don’t have to deal with things like cooling. Even dropping a PCB into aluminum housing deals with multiple processes, like using the laser and CNC machine. This was a start to looking at those processes to see how much time it takes to produce parts, the costs going into making them, and monitoring the cutting quality. You have to be familiar with the machines and know what you’re looking for when you see a tool going dull.

We first let the software experts do their thing and optimize a layout they wanted for their programming life. Then I was given that template, built a couple of sheet metal chassis that we wired up to test that layout, and made a bunch of little changes to that to get that right secret sauce for our keyboard-centric workflow in Pop!_OS. Once we got a sheet metal product that we were sure was going to be usable, we decided officially that we were going to pursue making a keyboard. That came with a whole new set of manufacturing requirements that we would have to look into.

We spent a ton of time working on pocket profile. When you look at a Launch, you’ll see that it’s not a perfect rectangle. That’s because when you’re using a mill, you have a round tool, so you can go through and get close to a pretty small radius on the corner, but you can never make it exact. If we wanted to get a very small, tight pocket, we’d have to use a very small cutter that takes an extremely long period of time.

We’re taking raw billet, which are these huge 12-foot-long sticks of aluminum that we cut down to get our final product. We went with a rounded rectangle so that we could use our cutter and decrease the overall time to machine that part. There was a lot of work in that and making sure the pockets were all 13.95mm versus 13.9mm versus 14.1mm.

We also did a lot of R&D on how we go about putting the angle bar on. Magnetic assembly seemed to be a good idea. We went from trying to glue magnets in to doing what's called press fitting. The bars come right out of powder coating while they’re nice and warm, when the aluminum is slightly larger than when it cools down. Those magnets aren’t actually adhered to anything in the bars; they’re squeezed in nice and tight from the aluminum cooling and contracting around them. That’s called a press fit, and doing that makes the process faster and less expensive.

It’s similar with the bottoms of Launch; we have steel plates that we press fit into that part as opposed to gluing or screwing, but that we do before powder coating; steel rusts, and we don’t want someone opening up their keyboard in a year and finding a little bit of rust floating underneath their super high-end PCB. So we do that, sand it down, use our media blaster to clean off the surface from the tool paths you see from the mill, and then we powder coat it through and through.

Word on the Denver streets is that Thelio Major is getting a redesign soon. What does that entail?

We’re bringing Thelio Major a lot more in line with Thelio Mega in terms of a different PCI mount for graphics cards, because we know that’s been a pain point for a lot of our users. We want to provide a little bit more robust installation for these graphics cards, which continue to increase in size and weight. The NVIDIA 3000-series cards are almost a pound heavier in some instances, and that’s a lot of weight to be shipping across the country.

We also want to continue to make Thelio Major cooler and quieter when it’s running with these new GPUs. Our new brake press allows us to make radius bends on parts, so we’re starting to run through R&D of a laser-welded external. It’s a wholesale departure from us using custom brackets and 3M VHB tape. That will provide a nicer finished product to our end user, and it’ll allow us to make our product faster with less material and less steps.

What qualities do you look for when adding someone to the team?

Creativity is extremely important. As a small manufacturing company, our priorities can shift on a day or in an afternoon where we don’t have the full line of product anymore. There are all sorts of examples in the past few years of times where you have to react pretty quickly. The motherboard’s been EOL’d, or we have to change our sheet metal design, build a new part, things like that. Making sure that someone can adapt to those changes on a moment’s notice is one of the key parts of the job.

We also want people who get excited about a new challenge and have the desire to keep improving something. I look for people who like to make things and go back in and refine it and not hold it up on this pillar. It’s good to not look at something like it’s perfect.

You have a lot of love for your Audi. What do you love about it over other options?

I like German cars. We have a family of them. They’re high-performance and not too expensive if you do all the work on it yourself. There’s a huge after-market community that tunes and changes these cars, which is pretty fun. Plus I prefer the metric system. Having a standard system drives me nuts, because what the [REDACTED] are fractions?

My real love, though, is bikes. I love tuning and riding bikes, and I love that more than I like to work on cars. It comes out of tinkering. I work with carbon fiber, I’ve done a lot of repairs on bikes over the years—there’s a certain sense of freedom you get from riding a bike that you can’t get from anything else. Not motorcycles, not cars.

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itmighthavebeenintentional · 3 years ago

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We've Got Tonight - Ch 5

Summary: “It’s not your job to do this, Andy. You make people happy. I was in the diner all of ten minutes, and you knew exactly how to get me to smile. You do normal, real things like garden and sing karaoke. Saving the world is my job, Sam’s job. Sometimes it’s even Cas’s job, but it’s not yours.”

Inspired by Bob Seger’s “We’ve Got Tonight”

Warnings: Major Character Death, More Major Character Deaths (sort of?), higher than show level violence, blood, light smutting, language, demons, apocalypse, inferred suicide, cult activity.

18+ ONLY, MINORS DO NOT PROCEED

Author’s Note: This story is set hazily around season 8. Just squint a little, and it’ll settle in somewhere. I wrote this story after certain big revelations in the show, but before other big ones; you’ll most likely be able to tell which. I play with time a bit in the story itself, so if things seem out of order, they are. Hopefully, by the end, all the pieces will fit together.

What the hell, let’s give it a shot.

Image and major edits by the incomparable @there-must-be-a-lock . Heavy editing and cheering by @thoughtslikeaminefield . Thank you both so much.

This chapter in particular is dedicated to @foxyjwls007 . If I'm going to torture you with something, it's not going to be a cliffhanger. I'm going out of town for two weeks, so you get an update early since I won't be able to post while I'm away. Thank you for the encouragement.

In case you missed it: Chapter 4 ItMightHaveBeenIntentional’s Masterlist

...

We’ve Got Tonight

Chapter 5

“Miss? Miss? Hey, are you okay?”

A hand grips Andy’s arm, firm but polite, and she jerks to, almost losing her footing. It’s been a long day already, and she still has two hours before she can go home, shower, and put her feet up for a little while before karaoke at the Brass Monkey starts up.

Maybe I can even fit in a nap, she thinks excitedly. But first, gotta wake up and make it through the rest of my shift.

Of course, if she hadn’t been tossing and turning all night from a crazy dream, she wouldn’t be as tired as she is now, but that’s neither here nor there. And it doesn’t help that she can’t even remember the stupid dream. It was really long, though, and there was blood and books and…someone...

“Can I get a refill over here?”

One hour, forty-seven minutes, and twenty-two seconds to go. She can do this.

The minutes crawl, though, and it’s all she can do to stay on her feet and focus. The lunch crowd has long since thinned, and she’s about to ask if she can maybe take off a little early when the door chimes, and she catches the tail end of the entering customers’ conversation.

“Could you at least consider putting something green on your plate? Like, ever? Broccoli won’t kill you.”

“I’ve already told you, I’m getting breakfast since you didn’t wake me up early enough to eat a decent one this morning. Pancakes, bacon, and coffee, which, I might add, grows on a tree, so it counts as a plant. That’s balanced enough for me. You like broccoli; knock yourself out, Jolly Green.”

“Sam isn’t green, Dean. Is your vision faulty? Perhaps we should get your eyes examined. Or you could try carrots along with the broccoli. Carrots are supposed to improve vision.”

No. No, no, no, she thinks, her mind whirling frantically. It was a dream, they can’t be here. This is...this is how it started, and...

She turns, and there they are, Sam and Dean dolled up in their clean, pressed feds suits and Cas looking just as rumpled and bewildered as she suddenly remembers. They seat themselves at an empty table in her section, but any thoughts of leaving early evaporated the second she heard their voices.

Every moment of the dream, every minute of those four weeks comes screaming back, cramming each terror-laden, tension-ridden second into her mind so fast she actually does stumble and has to grab the back of a nearby booth to keep from hitting the worn-out linoleum.

“It...hasn’t happened yet.”

“I’m sorry, did you say something? Hey, hey, hold on there. Are you okay?”

Then Sam’s hand is supporting her elbow, helping her straighten up, and she looks up into his concerned eyes, unable to express how glad she is just to see him breathing. Behind him, Dean and Cas are arguing about something trivial, wonderfully animated and alive and completely unaware of her.

“I’m sorry, hun, it’s just been a long shift. Gimme a minute to grab some waters and menus, and I’ll be right over.” Sam accepts her flimsy excuse at face value, and why wouldn’t he? He hasn’t lived with her for the better part of a month, hasn’t saved her life once, hasn’t tried to save the world with her. He doesn’t know her at all.

Why should he question a strange waitress in a strange diner who says she’s had a long day? He’s met hundreds of women just like her, maybe thousands, and he’s got no reason to question a completely legitimate statement.

She rushes into the back to find the coldest water possible to splash on her face. Her reflection gapes back at her from the staff bathroom mirror as the enormity of her situation begins to dawn on her.

Why? Why is this happening? Either she actually lived through those weeks and is somehow getting a do-over, or she dreamed the whole thing and is getting a shot to fix things from this end. But why? And how?

How in the hell?

Think, Andrea, think. It was real. It will be real. It hasn’t happened yet. You haven’t screwed everything up yet. You have to fix this. But how? How can I fix it when I screwed everything up so very badly last time?

Just...think. Think. Start small. Try to stop it before it happens. But...the cult. Crowley said they were real. They found me before, they’ll find me again. I could talk to Sam and Dean and Cas about what's going to happen. They’ve been through enough insanity in their lives that I actually have a pretty good shot at convincing them.

She stares into the mirror, racking her brain for every helpful detail she learned during her time with the Winchesters.

They're already investigating all the break-ins hereabouts; those were the cultists looking for me in the first place. Then they find me, take me, bleed me, and start the apocalypse. The boys could stop the ritual before it even happens.

Her reflection in the mirror frowns, unconvinced the solution could possibly be that easy.

But the literature, the books, it’s all still out there. Someone else could find it, could come after me. My blood is the problem. I’m the key. As long as I’m around, someone could still use me to end everything. Crowley can still use me to get to them. Think. You’ve got to actually stop everything and save them this time.

Her eyes widen as realization dawns. The world can’t make it without the Winchesters. There’s only one way out of this.

Fifteen minutes later, she sets a fresh green salad in front of Sam before dropping a towering stack of steaming pancakes in front of Dean.

“Fresh pot of coffee coming off in two, be right back with your refills. Need any more butter or syrup, hun? How ‘bout a couple of extra pieces of bacon on the house?”

“Don’t encourage him, please,” Sam groans. Dean slaps his brother on the back of the head, sending Sam’s coiffed hair into a tizzy of disarray. Sam swipes back at his brother, who waves off Sam’s attempts at retaliation like he’s swatting a fly.

“You shut your pie hole. She said free bacon. That makes her a queen.” He turns his most charming smile on her, glancing down at her name tag then back up to meet her gaze squarely. The crinkles around his eyes deepen with his grin. “Andrea, is it?”

“Andy,” she corrects automatically, and she can’t help her answering smile. He throws her a wink that clearly says he knows he’s cheesy but it's all part of his irresistible charm.

She doesn’t disagree.

“You are a goddess, Andy. I love you, and you need to know that.”

“You don’t,” she says, only just managing to keep her voice and smile level, “but you could.” His answering laugh sends a twinge through her chest, and if she clenches her jaw a little around her smile, she figures she’s entitled.

When the men finally finish eating, she offers a slip of paper to Dean, while Sam pretends he isn’t rolling his eyes.

“There’s a karaoke competition at the Brass Monkey tonight. Winner gets tab on the house for a week. Interested in maybe meeting up there around ten or so? We could have a drink, sing a song, and see where the rest of the night takes us.”

He grins and takes the slip from her with sure fingers. She’s certain he has her number memorized before the paper even retains his prints, but he makes a special show of tucking it safely into his pocket.

“Dean, do you think it wise to allow yourself to be so distracted when we’re in the middle of an investigation?”

And without even realizing it, Cas gives her the perfect opening.

“Oh, you boys investigating all the break-ins hereabouts? Were they too much for our local boys to handle? Listen, hun, my friend was one of the ladies whose house got broken into. If you want to stick around for a few minutes, I can fill you in on what I know and send you her way. Would that help?”

Castiel’s eyebrows lift in surprise, and he is clearly pleased with his first-rate investigating skills. “That would help immensely, Miss Andrea. Thank you.”

She can’t believe her luck at such a perfect lead-in, and she runs with it.

“Now that I think about it, the shop next door mentioned something about their alarm getting tripped a few nights in a row. Maybe I could talk to your friend while you two check it out? And I’ll see you tonight, Dean? Ten o’clock?”

Dean’s grin softens, and she can see the faintest tinge of red along his cheeks. She didn’t notice it the first time around, and now she wishes she’d paid more attention. Then the brothers leave, and she’s alone with the angel. ...

Chapter 6

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suitofvibraniumarmor · 4 years ago

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If You Just Realize

Part Thirteen: Keep It Together

Summary: More changes come for Sebastian and his girls. Pairing: Sebastian Stan x Reader Word Count: 2405 Series Warnings: Death, angst, sadness. Lots of creative licensing, I’m sure. Chapter Warnings: Implied smut, child custody issues. Square Filled: This entire series will fill my realized feelings square for @marvelfluffbingo. A/N: I’ve much enjoyed writing this series, and I hope all of you enjoy reading it! The tag list is open; requests to be added can be done so here. There are bits and pieces of Romanian throughout the series, mostly from Google Translate and the few things I’ve picked up as I learn the language.

Also, I don’t know why I’ve never mentioned it before, but a huge song inspiration for the title of this fic (and some chapter titles) is Realize by Colbie Caillat.

Series Masterlist

The car ride to the Hills’ house was tense; with an important, unfinished conversation behind them and another unknown in front of them, both Sebastian and Y/N were on the defensive. So much had happened in such a short time, they both felt as though it was only a matter of who would break first.

“That car wasn’t here when we dropped her off,” Y/N noted, getting out of the car. She met Sebastian at the front and held tight to his hand — more for her own comfort, she had to admit, than for his.

He said nothing, only walked with her up to the front door and rang the bell. Alice was there before the chimes finished, concern etched into her features.

“I didn’t know,” was the first thing she said, welcoming them in, but no further than the foyer. “I’m so sorry — Conor stopped by unexpectedly. Tim tried to just visit with him here on the porch, but his thinking still isn’t so quick and when Conor asked what I was doing …”

“And Conor wanted to see her,” Sebastian surmised. “Is he with her now?”

Alice nodded. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t know how to tell him no without upsetting the whole situation and Tim and Milena.”

“It’s not your fault — what else were you supposed to do?” Sebastian squeezed her shoulder. “Where are they now?”

“In the den, watching cartoons.”

Sebastian dropped Y/N’s hand and stalked towards the den. She and Alice were hot on his heels though, concern and fear racing through them at the stern set of Sebastian’s jaw and the dark shade of blue his eyes had taken on.

In the den, Milena was curled up in Tim’s lap, watching cartoons. She was stealing glances at Conor, as though waiting for him to make any kind of sudden movement. Sebastian stopped at the entryway and took a deep breath to calm his demeanor before Milena saw him.

“Hey, munchkin,” he greeted with a smile. “Ready to go home?”

Y/N breathed a momentary sigh of relief when she reached Sebastian’s side and saw the smile on his face; even if it was only for Milena’s benefit, it eased her nerves, too.

“Uncle Seb!” Milena exclaimed, scrambling down from Tim’s lap and racing toward her uncle. She wrapped her arms around his legs and looked up at Y/N. “We going home now?”

Y/N picked her up and nodded. “Yes, princess, we’re going home. Where are your shoes?”

“I have them in my room,” Alice answered. “Come on, Milena, let’s show Y/N where they are.”

The women left the room, and only then did Conor rise from the couch to shake hands with Sebastian. The latter man returned to his closed off, cold expression.

“I’ll leave you gentlemen to talk,” Tim excused himself. Conor helped his dad up from the chair, and then Tim was out of the room, leaning on the walker for support.

Sebastian kept his eyes on Conor the whole time. “You cannot be around her. If I have to have that put in the court papers too, I will. I know you’ve hit some low points, but putting your parents in this situation? Especially after everything they’ve been dealing with since your dad’s stroke?”

“She’s my daughter,” Conor returned.

“Not according to the papers you signed saying you didn’t want her,” Sebastian reminded. “She’s ours. Y/N and I will raise her, my parents and your parents will help and will see her as often as they’d like. You will never be a part of that.”

Sebastian turned to go, but Conor grabbed for his arm. Sebastian turned back, looked down at the grip on his arm, then back at Conor. That man put his hands up in surrender and took a step back.

“I’m sorry, but this conversation isn’t over,” Conor explained. “I was wrong to sign my rights away. I’ve seen her grow up through pictures up until now, but Irina would never hear of anything different.”

“And why should she have?” Sebastian countered. “You didn’t want Milena! You made that clear months before she was even born. I was there. My parents, your parents were there. My wife has been there more for Milena since Irina died than you have in her entire life. Where have you been when she cries for Irina? Where have you been when her tummy aches for no reason at all? Where have you been when she’s crying and screaming for hours at night? Nowhere. You haven’t been around at all. Now you see her for the first time in her life and you think you want things to change? You have no idea who Milena is, what her needs are.” He shook his head. “You can say whatever you want, man, but I’m not going to up-end her world any more than what’s already been done out of my control.”

Conor set his jaw. “We’ll see what the courts have to say about that.”

Sebastian snorted. “Yeah, go ahead and get the courts involved. You’re not going to win. Milena is ours, Conor. She will never be yours.”

With that, Sebastian picked up Milena’s jacket from the back of the couch and went in search of his wife and niece.

“How many days till my bir’day?”

Sebastian smiled and mentally counted the days. “Let’s see, we just finished Halloween, you birthday is the first day of December … about twenty-seven.”

“That’s so many,” Milena whined.

Y/N smiled from the counter where she was kneading bread dough. Sebastian and Milena were ‘helping’ from the other side of the island — which really meant Milena was playing with Play-Doh and Sebastian was supervising to see that none of the play stuff got in with the actual dough.

“It’ll be here before you know it,” Y/N assured, measuring out some cinnamon and sugar to fold into the dough. “What kind of party should we have? Oh, let me guess — princesses!”

But Milena wrinkled her nose and shook her head. “No! I want puppies!”

The adults laughed at the squeal of excitement that followed the mention of puppies. A shared glance when Milena went back to her Play-Doh told Y/N that Sebastian was thinking exactly the same as she was: it was time to talk about getting a pet in the house.

“I mean, we have all this land,” Sebastian began after putting Milena down for an afternoon nap, “seems silly not to have some little creature running around to keep Milena busy.”

“Little creature,” Y/N chuckled, setting the timer for the bread to bake. “Well, we can start looking, but if we want it for her birthday, we shouldn’t look for too long. I’ll get with your mom and Alice and see what we can all put together. Not that you and Tim wouldn’t wanna help but …”

“But it’s probably better we don’t,” he laughed. “I get it.”

She flashed him a winning smile before going to the sink to work on the dishes and Sebastian’s heart beat faster. Since the day Conor had shown up, they hadn’t resumed their conversation, having agreed there was too much going on at the moment to deal with anything else. Milena needed stability and calm, and they couldn’t offer that to her with Conor’s legal threats, the night terrors, and grieving her mother already on their plates.

Today, however, he couldn’t seem to stop himself. The house was warm and smelled of autumn, thanks to the candles Y/N had lit throughout the place. With his two girls there in good spirits, he finally felt like the place was home. She was singing along softly to the music playing from her phone as she rinsed out the dishes and loaded the washer. Her oversized sweatshirt — one he was sure had actually come from his collection — with the sleeves rolled up and her form-fitting cotton leggings had his eye all day as possibly the most adorable outfit he had ever seen her wear. It seemed a shame that he hadn’t kissed her in so many days.

She drew in a sharp breath when his hands landed on her shoulders, then giggled when she realized he was behind her. His lips pressed to the top of her head; she leaned back into him.

“You smell extra good today,” she told him softly.

Sebastian smiled. “I’m glad you think so. I know we have a lot of things unfinished and undecided between us, Y/N/N, but today feels so much like home. You are home to me. You’ll have to forgive me if I needed to be a little closer to you for it.”

Turning in his arms, Y/N shook her head. “Nothing to forgive.”

He smiled and dipped his head down to kiss her. Shivers raced over his spine when her hands, chilly from rinsing dishes, brushed over the back of his neck. She responded to his kiss eagerly, making Sebastian wish he had pushed closer to her sooner. As the kiss continued, he lifted her onto the counter and pushed between her legs so that he could be as close to her as possible.

“I suppose,” Y/N told him between kisses, “there is one piece of unfinished business we could get on with — at least one.”

Sebastian raised a brow. “At least one?”

She nodded then returned to their kiss. Sebastian picked her up and carried her bridal style to their bedroom. He was sure of one thing they could finish, but what else was there? It had him slightly distracted as he moved over her on the bed. His kisses softened as he settled on top of her, balancing his weight on his elbows.

“You’re sure about this? There’s more discussion for us to have, you know,” Sebastian reminded her in almost a whisper.

Y/N drew in a deep breath and caressed his face. “I love you, Sebastian. I want this life with you. Do you think you want this life with me?”

“No,” he answered, pushing her hair away from her face, “I know that I want this life with you. I love you, Bright Eyes.”

Her grin was as big as he had ever seen it. He leaned to kiss her again, his hand going under that oversized sweatshirt, his heart reveling in the certainty of their love for one another.

The blow came a few days later. Philip called so early in the morning, Milena was still asleep, and Y/N and Sebastian were only awake because she had a flight to Los Angeles for a talk show interview the next day.

“I almost forgot in all of this that I am actually an actress,” she chuckled over her coffee.

Sebastian smiled back at her, his heart not yet ready to let her be across the country, even it was only for a quick trip. “Too bad we can’t stay inside our cozy little bubble here.”

“Mmm, agreed.”

The phone rang then; Sebastian frowned at Philip’s name on the caller ID at that hour. He slid his thumb across the screen and answered with measured concern in his voice.

“You’re on speaker, Y/N is here with me,” he added, pressing the appropriate option on the screen.

“Good morning,” Philip sighed, “and also my apologies for starting your day this way. I don’t know how he managed it, but Conor has gotten a judge to rule for him to a mandated week with Milena in his care, to see how things go.”

“He can’t do that! He signed his rights away!” Y/N exclaimed. Tears immediately filled her eyes.

Philip sighed. “I know that, but this is complex situation. He’s her biological parent, her mother has passed away. I’ve never dealt with this judge before, but apparently she’s got a soft spot for fathers who are doing their best to be fathers.”

Y/N opened her mouth again, but Sebastian stopped her. “What does this mean?”

“Child and Family Services will be coming to get her later this morning. Pack her enough for a couple of days, but Conor has been told he needs to provide for her during this week, as well. Apparently he’s got a live-in girlfriend who he’s been with for a while, and she’ll be there to help him.”

Sebastian was near speechless. “We can’t fight this?”

“It all happened really quickly — I wasn’t even notified until it was on paper and signed off, or bet your ass I would have fought it. I know before I said we wouldn’t need it, but it would have been much better at this point to have Irina’s wishes on paper.” He paused for a moment. “I’m sorry, I know that’s not helpful. The best I can tell you right now is prepare Milena for what’s going to happen. Tell her it isn’t permanent as far as you know, tell her that you’re going to bring her back home just as soon as you can, but also don’t speak poorly of Conor. After a week, CFS will bring her back to you.”

“I’ve got to cancel my flight,” Y/N said, already on her own phone to call her assistant. Sebastian gently took the device from her, motioning for her to wait.

“All right, Phil, thanks for letting us know. If anything else comes up — just let us know what we can do to keep her.”

Philip promised that he would, then the men disconnected the call. Sebastian turned to Y/N.

��I don’t want you canceling that interview,” he told her. “As much as I know you want to be here, I’m not ready for the media to get a hold of this. As soon as you cancel something, they’re going to start speculating and digging. I can’t have that, not yet. You can’t help here, anyway.”

She sniffled. “But I want to be here for you.”

“I know, and I do want you here with me, but to protect ourselves and our privacy for right now, we’re going to have to support each other from a distance for a couple of days.” He kissed her head. “Besides, if they go to Conor, I get the feeling the pseudo-fame will only fuel his purpose.”

Y/N stood to wrap her arms around his neck. Sebastian held her just as tight, praying as they held each other that the little family they were working so hard to stabilized wouldn’t be permanently torn apart by this development.

AllOfTheThings: @captain-s-rogers @star-spangled-man-with-a-plan @letsgetfuckingsuperwholocked @hurricanerin @horsesandbandsforlife @im-not-an-armrest-im-short @shynara51 @sea040561 @pinknerdpanda @xtina2191 @jackryanplz @beakami @heartsaved @fullprunerebelstatesman @blackwidowismyhomegirl @averyrogers83 @jennmurawski13 @connie326

IYJR: @elsatxx @tanelle83 @amanda-teaches @etherealwaifgoddess @kmuir1 @ntlmundy @jayankles @rebekahdawkins @denise1605 @rhadigen @peace-love-hobbitness @itsallyscorner @mizzzpink @auspiciousharriet @the-murder-strut-murdered-me @learisa @tellmewhatyouwill @katherinereid @lokilokilokilokilokiloki @auriandthepussicats @tellmewhatyouwill @itsmycorneroftheinternet @andreagf956 @voltage-my2dlove

#marvelfluffbingo2020 #sebastian stan #reader insert #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian x reader #queue and i remember budapest very differently

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abused-sides · 4 years ago

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Virgil Comes Home [Roommates AU]

Trigger warning: This au follows most of the sides in the aftermath of surviving abuse (domestic, parental, etc). In this particular fic it’s not stated explicitly, but it’s an instrumental part of the story and if that bothers you, then please not only scroll past this fic, but block my blog as well.

More tws: All sides are sympathetic, mentions of living in homeless shelters, poverty, a lot of flinching (though no actual danger), food, descriptions of severe eczema, please let me know if i missed anything. If there are any other preventative measures I can take to keep people safe, also please let me know.

Genre: Hurt/Comfort

Ships: Endgame romantic intruloceit, romantic prinxiety, queerplatonic royality

Words: 1729

Virgil’s hands trembled as the elevator climbed.

He was still in a sort-of trance, ready to wake up back home with his boyfriend on his way and waiting for dinner. He wasn’t convinced he was moving into his new apartment today, wasn’t convinced he was starting a new life.

He flinched, the elevator ding sharp. He adjusted his backpack and ducked his head as he tiptoed down the hallway. He reached the door, but before he could knock, the door behind him swung open.

“So you’re the new one!”

Virgil whipped around and puffed his chest out, squaring his shoulders.

“Remus,” a bored voice said, “leave him alone.”

Remus stared with a manic, unblinking grin. His face was covered in stubble and his dark hair fell in oily, tangled curls down his face. Dread settled deep in Virgil’s stomach.

“Remus.” Another boy appeared at the door, a delicate, scab covered hand wrapping around Remus’s shoulder. The new boy’s face was red and blotchy, covered in angry scabs and dead skin. A glare twisted his face. “You’re going to be late for work. Want me to finish, or not?”

Remus’s face melted into a pout. “You’re the one that insists I put it up in the first place!”

“That’s because you look like you never made it off the streets.” The boy flicked one of Remus’s curls, his mouth quirking into a barely-noticeable smile.

The door behind Virgil swung open, and he leapt back so his eyeline could catch both threats.

“Are you two seriously trying to scare him off?” A boy who looked strikingly similar to Remus, only more… Put together, glared at the neighbours.

“Don’t lump me in with him,” the boy said flatly.

Remus giggled and kissed the boy’s cheek. “You’re stuck with me, Jan-Jan!”

“I’m sorry about them,” his new roommate huffed. “I’m Roman. Come on inside, I’ll help you get the rest of your stuff.”

Virgil’s heart pounded. He couldn’t get himself out of fight mode, even as Jan pulled Remus back into their own apartment and slammed the door. “This- This is it,” he managed. “This is all of it.”

Roman poorly masked his surprise. “Oh! Okay, well, travelling light has its pros, too, I’m sure.”

He gestured Virgil inside. The apartment was exactly how he remembered it; warm, a little cluttered, covered in frames of photos of the three of them, beautiful homemade artwork, to-do lists, and schedules. Patton, the one who interviewed Virgil, stood in the kitchenette over a sizzling pan of bacon.

“Virgil!” He cried happily and bounded over.

Virgil stiffened as Patton pulled him into a tight hug. He marginally relaxed when Patton pulled away. “You’re just in time, breakfast is ready!”

Shrieking sounded through the apartment— Everyone flinched, and Virgil covered his head as the smoke detector wailed. A boy in glasses came out of one of the closed doors, disabled the smoke detector without stopping, and headed for the front door.

“Thanks, Logan!” Patton straightened up and grinned. “Breakfast is ready!”

“I’m okay, I’ll grab something on the way.” He stopped in front of Virgil. His face was guarded, unreadable. He stuck his hand out. “My name is Logan. Virgil, I presume?” Virgil managed a nod. “Welcome. I won’t be back until tonight, but Patton works from home, so he should be able to help you settle in.”

“Mister, your schedule is self-imposed,” Patton said with a scowl. “You’re eating breakfast! I know you won’t actually grab something on the way. Do you think I’m stupid?”

The smallest of flinches tensed Logan’s shoulders. “Of course not.”

Patton scraped the burnt bacon into the trash. “Ro, set the table for me, love? Logan, show Verge to his room and get cleaned up for breakfast.”

Logan pursed his lips and nodded. “Come with me.”

Virgil followed Logan into his room. It was bare, walls empty and carpet vacuumed. There was a mattress and a desk with no chair.

“We wanted to get you started with more, coming from the shelter and all that, but we’ve been short on rent the last couple months so we could only spare so much.”

Virgil was shaking his head before Logan finished talking. “It’s everything I need. Thank- Thank you.”

Logan glanced at him from the side of his eyes. “No trouble at all, Virgil.”

Logan left. Virgil shrugged his backpack off and set it on the mattress. It was covered in what was clearly spare blankets, and a dirty pillow without a case. It was both so much less and so much more than what he left behind. It was his.

From his backpack, he pulled out two t-shirts, a pair of jeans, a sleep shirt, a teddy bear, a stress ball, and a bag of cash. This was all he owned. It was all he needed.

“Virgil! Breakfast is getting cold!”

He shook off the panic crawling up his spine with the realization that he did nothing to help. He just got here— How was he meant to help?

He steeled himself, forced up a scowl, and headed into the kitchen. He fought not to melt at the amazing smell coming from the stack of pancakes, warm bacon, and hot coffee from the table.

“Coffee, Virgil?” Roman asked as he poured Logan some.

“Uh, sure.” He refused to admit he’d never had any before. “Thank you.”

“Milk and sugar’s by the bacon!” Patton handed out napkins and took his head.

“I’m fine,” he mumbled. He wrapped his stiff fingers around the hot ceramic and pulled it close to his face. It smelled like hazelnut and vanilla.

Don’t cry.

Don’t let them see you cry.

“So, Virgil,” Roman said after downing half of his coffee, “Patton’s been talking about you nonstop, but we still don’t know anything about you.”

Virgil hummed noncommittedly, not sure how to answer. All the eyes on him made him want to crawl out of his skin.

“Don’t be invasive,” Logan mumbled. He cut his pancakes into perfect squares, piling up the round edges on his fork and dropping them onto Patton’s plate. Patton immediately soaked them in syrup. “He doesn’t have to talk about anything he doesn’t want to.”

Roman pouted. “I know that! But, well, he can at least tell us what job he plans on getting.” He peeked at Virgil nervously. “Right?”

Virgil’s heart was in his throat. Was he supposed to know that already? What jobs were even available in the city?

“Roman.” Patton gave him a look.

Roman huffed and continued eating. “Well, if you’re stuck, the theatre is always hiring for the crew. We can’t get anyone to stick around that long.” His eyes widened. “Not that it’s a bad job! We just don’t really have enough money to pay more than minimum wage, and there’re limited hours. You can volunteer more time if you want, but we wouldn’t be able to pay for it.”

Patton dumped approximately half a cup of sugar into his mug and stirred it with a child’s spoon, a frog at the end of the handle. “How about this: Virgil, would you want to walk around the city with me later? I have a few orders to finish up and then I gotta drop them off, so I’ll be walking around for a few hours. We’re sure to pass tons of help wanted signs, and we’ll see if anything pops out at you. If nothing does, maybe you’d want to go to the theatre with Roman tomorrow and see if you like it better there.”

Virgil nodded slowly. “Sure. Yeah, I can do that.”

They finished eating, Virgil silent while the others engaged freely. Roman was louder than Virgil appreciated, constantly making Virgil flinch or go into defence mode. Logan occasionally noticed and gave him a small nod, or an eye roll in Roman’s direction, and it almost made Virgil feel better.

Logan hurried out the first chance he got, claiming that he was behind on schedule and he really needed to get to the library. Roman was out shortly after, declaring something about the play they’re doing that Virgil couldn’t understand as much as he tried.

On autopilot, Virgil picked up all the dishes and balanced it all in his arms. Patton looked at him in surprise as he carried them to the sink.

“Wow, that’s- That’s impressive!” He laughed. “But you don’t have to do that!”

Virgil’s face heated up as his actions caught up with him. He scrambled for the upper hand, “Yeah, I drop in short on rent, don’t help cook, eat my share, and I don’t have a job to get to, but sure, I’ll go fuck off and you can do them.”

Patton’s giggling surprised him. “Well, I won’t complain! Thanks, Verge! I’ll just get started on my orders.”

He pulled out the flour, sugar, and other baking supplies while Virgil washed the dishes. When he finished drying and putting them away, he went to leave, when Patton stopped him.

“Oh, Verge!” Patton smiled sheepishly, his fingers covered in sticky cookie dough. “Could you grab the chocolate chips for me before you go?”

“Uh- Sure.” Virgil found the bag with Patton’s direction and poured them into the bowl until Patton said. “Anything else I can do for you?”

Patton looked at him in surprise. “Well, if you really don’t mind, I’m going to have to use the bowl and other stuff again right after I get the cookies in the oven. Would you mind washing those, too?”

He didn’t have anything better to do, and he wasn’t even paying the full rent. “Sure.”

He got those washed up, too, and once again asked if Patton needed anything else. He ended up helping Patton through the rest of his orders, getting powdered sugar and flour and cinnamon all over his clothes and hair. He knew more about baking than Patton had expected— Much to Patton’s delight.

“Okay,” Patton said once all the treats were packaged up in pastel boxes, “I’m going to go clean up, and then I’ll be ready.” He threw his arms around Virgil, who flinched, but found his arms wrapping back around him. Patton squeezed him and buried his face in Virgil’s sweaty neck. “Welcome home, Virgil.”

And then he’d skipped back into his room, door shutting behind him. And Virgil was left alone with the butterflies in his stomach.

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starr-fall-knight-rise · 5 years ago

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Humans are Space Orcs, “Honor.”

So translating my own language is a bitch. Yes I know I don’t have to do it, but also it is more fun that way. Although I added in translations for everyone accept on one or two parts on purpose. But you can still enjoy it, no need to worry. you don’t need to know the language to read this!

Also this is an action scene so it’s cool. Go on read it :)

You know that feeling where you studied for an exam and you thought that you knew the material, but then you get into the exam and it turns out you had no idea what you were doing?

Yeah, this is nothing like that.

Well, I mean it kind of is, but the result of screwing up is death and not a stern talking to from your parents about being more focused. Then again, perhaps I would get a stern talking to form Hijan.

When we crest over the hill --not gonna lie-- I feel like I’m going to shat myself. Granted loose bowels has never been a problem of mine, generally I have a pretty impressive butt clenching ability, you sort of have to as a fighter pilot, but this is a whole different level of terrifying.

It’s like one of those old movies where the hero is tied up by his hands hooked onto a rail line in a slaughterhouse and they are watching as the spinning blades slowly get closer and closer to their junk.

What I am saying is it’s like walking towards a meat grinder. The Drev are aggressive and violent spinning blades at each other, four arms flailing as they crash into teach other with the clattering of steel. Right in front of my eyes I watch as one of our clam members is violently speared through the throat after a minute slip up with his form work.

HE falls to the ground wide eyed and choking.

His opponent nods before continuing on his way.

Holy shit! Fuck!

Shit Shit shit!

“Nahasinsazh!”

Our group breaks into a slow job, and then into a full out sprint. I struggle to keep up, but surprisingly I manage to keep time. The Drev are bigger and stronger, but I'm smaller and more nimble, and I navigate the rocks faster. I make sure not to be at the front. I know that I won't be able to take that first hit.

The fighting line rises up in my vision.

And then the world erupts around me.

The first clash is so violent that I more than expectit to rent the earth and shake the very foundations to where I stand. A shape looms over me and I duck just in time for a spear to go cything past my head. My maneuver is followed by an absolute eruption of steel on steel. Hijan catches his spear on the shaft of her weapon and violently shoves him back. I see an opening to attack, but then that moment is gone.

I’m not sure If i can just kill someone like that.

“Tsata! Laza tach Zheengish!” Fight or yourclan

I’m still not sure about the clan, but…. I can do anything for Hijan.

My feet skidd over bare rock as a spear cuts towards my head. I dodge to the side again and Hijan takes the brunt of the force, but I use her distraction to rush inwards thrusting my spear point forward.

I feel it as it cuts through flesh, a jolting ripping sensation that vibrates up through the shaft of the spear and then into my hands.

The Drev warrior looks up at me with surprise on his face as I draw the spear from the wound and orange icor begins pouring down his front. Looking at his eyes, he doest sem scared, merely shocked. A shco which is replaced with…

Satisfaction

Peace

Hope?

I don’t know as I am drawn away from him a moment later and into the tide of the battle.

My feet pass over rough hewn stone as Hijan and I fight her acting as the muscle while I act as the spearhead.

Things are working out for the most part though my heart pounds in my ears making it difficult to hear anything but the pulsing of my own blood. HIjan turns to catch another spear with hers, and I turn to take the offensive when I hear a war cry from behind me. I turn eyes widening just in time as a spear point trusts towards my head. I throw myself to the side as the massive leaf blade bites into the ground where I just stood.

The hulking silver goliath stands over me his wide orange eyes filled with battle rage.

He swings his spear again, and the tip of the spear scythes past my stomach casting sparks as it goes.

I roll backwards landing on my back in the moss and rolling to the side only to gain my feet.

I look around for Hijan, but don’t Immediately see her.

The battle cry comes again, and I turn watching as another wild swing rockets towards my head.

He is using stone technique. It is slow and precise but when it hits it hits like a freight train. I raise my spear at the last moment, and when that downward momentum makes contact, I am plowed right into the dirt. The stele of my armor cracks against the stone and I can feel the ground give way under my shoulders and back. The power is incredible like getting hit by a speeding bullet train/

I have no idea how I manage to block it, and hold him off me.

His beak is just inches from my face, his wide orange eyes staring.

He presses downward with all his might, and I scream as I try to push him off me.

I watch him flinch as the power of my voice vibrates his ears.

Hmm, gonna have to remember that for later… if there is a later.

My arms tremble as I hold him away fro me. If he gets smart and stops pushing and just strikes I am done for.

I need a distraction.

Ah that’s a good idea.

I spit directly into his eye.

He was not expecting that one bit and reels back in shock.

I kick him square in the fork of the legs. I am not entirely sure if Drev have balls. I mean I heard their reproduction is similar to that of humans, so It can’t have been a nice feeling, and he doesn’t seem to like it leaping back onto his feet and staggering backwards. I come at him again, darting towards his side.

My hands are still throbbing from the last impact, my fingers are almost numb.

I catch him on the back of the knee and he roars in pain and panic crippling is far worse than death to a drev, however in his fear, I only make him more angry, he lunges for me, so fast and so wild that I barely have time to dodge out of the way.

I hit the ground again, spending way too much time here. The spar is thrust towards me. It cut s into the ground at my side. Near my shoulder

And between my knees as I scramble backwards.

I kick the shaft of the spear catching him off balance standing as…. A spear sprouts through the center of his chest. I can hear the horrible crunching noise the ripping of flesh as the spear is drawn back out, and he falls dead to the ground.

Hijan holds up her weapon covered in orange blood.

I am breathing hard.

She steps forward and I scramble up into her shadow. We are back together again, and like before we are back as a unit, cutting through the whirling crowd with near impunity.

But I can see that the battle isn’t going well, at least not for our side.

Hijan and I are now surrounded. Three of them and only two of us.

I didn’t actually believe I was going to die here.

But why hadn’t I thought that

It was a distinct possibility.

I realized at that moment that maybe I hadn’t had the respect for their culture that I should have. Did I think it was just some kind of fun game, go down for a little fun and then come hoe with some cool stories to tell. No, I was entering a warzone. I had made myself part of a clan and that meant that I had to either ride or die with it.

All around us comes the screaming of the dying and the moaning of the near dead. Bodies litter the ground, the air above us is filled with the little white moss spores kicked up like a cloud of dust.

Hijan and I retreated falling up against a short rock face. Pink moss climbs up it’s side.

Three attackers come in fast. I block one and she blocks the other, but the third spear catches her hard on one of her back armored plates.

My blood runs cold as I hear hijan scream in agony.

I spin on the spot kicking the third attacker away.

Hijan is on the ground, she isn’t bleeding but a spear is headed straight towards her chest.

I fully admit that I don’t feel adrenaline rushes easily.

I think it is a product of my flight training, but at that moment I don’t think. The world around me goes red my vision tightening to a single point blac around the edges.

My lips go light and it feels as if my entire body is held up by a thousand balloons or a gravity generator making me less than half my weight but twice as strong.

Before I know it I have leaped in font of the downward cut catching the blade on my spear. Metal rings, sparks fly.

Three more spears come in contact with the shaft of my weapon.

I see their eyes widen their bodies falter.

As one single human holds all three of them off. My vision darkens, goes even more read as I hear Hijan behind me. I remember who I am protecting, and I scream. Power like nothing I had ever felt surges through my body. The kind of power that can rip your body in half if you're not careful enough.

And I throw them off me.

Three Drev weigh almost three hundred or more pounds each, and I throw them off me. Two of them stagger away and trip backwards, and one of them is lifted half a foot from the ground and thrown more than two feet backwards.

All the muscles in my body are on ire, my legs to my back to my shoulders and biceps.

Even the muscles in my chest and abs are screaming.

And then it hits.

I am going in for another attack when a second wave of our Drev come barreling through. They take over the field like a tidal wave absolutely demolishing any who stand in their way.

I am left standing in the moss breathing hard, gasping for air.

I look down at myself only now realizing that I am bleeding. I know the blood is mine because it’s red, though I don’t feel anything.

More shuffling on the rocks behind me, and I turn.

“Hian!” I rush over kneeling next to her as she slowly sits up.

One of her hands is gently clutching the back plate which took the brunt of the impact.

I brush away her hands to look,, though I am not sure what I am looking for.

“Tsa Jirhash?” I prod at the injury

She winces but brushed me off

“Je je zhe ta’anini.”

I know she is going to live, but I worry she is going to be crippled. I know what that means.

She must see the fear in my eyes for she takes my hand and holds it between two of hers. Her eyes are wrinkled the way that Drev do when they smile.

“Tsa zheengish yahan. zhe leeni.” I feel my face flush just a bit. Her pride in me is…. Well it’s almost overwhelming. I realize now that the battle is over, the adrenaline starts to wear off and my hands begin to shake.

My legs are twitching so badly, that I have to take to my knees so I don’t fall over. My breathing comes in hard gasps.

Pain is returning to me, and I realize why I am bleeding.

There are cuts on my face and parts of my arms where the armor does not exist. The straps that hold on my armor leave deep bruises. My hands throb as do my bones/ Hijan pulls me a bit closer to her examining me herself as I kneel on the moss.

Looking for some cool air, I pull off my helmet letting a cool breeze blow over me.

My throat buns as I look towards the sky. The distant battle is beginning to fade.

As we kneel there on the moss, I turn to watch as our sentinel steps over broken bodies. He is painted in orange and his eyes are bright with the glee of a last battle.

“Lodnajasta.” The two of us bow our heads respectfully as he comes over

He looks down at me with surprise, “Tsa aninish. “ He seems almost impressed, and then he ruins it, “tsa dadarish yahanan huka zhe takasi tsa dee.” you did better than I thought you would.

Well thanks for that bro

I watch his expression fall a bit, and in surprise I turn to find Hijan glowering at him.

Raise an eyebrow incredulously as I turn back to look at the sentinel.

He looks almost apologetic, “Tsa yaheen zhankeel datasajish.” you showed great honor.”

He turns and walks away, his back stiff.

I wait for him to leave before I begin to laugh incredulously and turn to look at my companion, “Hijan. Nin tsa darish.” What did you do!

She looks almost sheepish.”nee nehzhankeelan datadich.” He was being dishonorable

She had to be insane.

She reminded me way too much of my mother in that moment.My mom would call out the president if he disrespected one of her children, and apparently so too would Hijan

I take her hand and smile, “zhe tatazi zhe tsa rekazi.”

Her eyes wrinkle again and she takes my hand.

Hijan was one of the best people/drev I had ever known.

If anything happened to her I would probably go on a homicidal rampage John Wick style.

But barring that, I was getting some great ideas.

Sunny needed to meet hijan like yesterday

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jayankles · 4 years ago

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We Need to Talk: Part 2

Pairing: Dean x Parent!Reader

Sam and Dean need the Reader’s help with a case involving her expertise but Dean and the Reader need to have a little chat.

Word Count: 2700

Warnings: Dean is rightfully angry in this. Talks of sex. (if I missed anything let me know.)

Written for: @spngenrebingo / @badthingshappenbingo / @spndeanbingo / @spnaubingo / @/spnonewordbingo

Squares Filled: meet the parents / voice breaking / single parent au / free space / rocky

Also written for @sdavid09 ’s Tale Tellers 2020 Bingo Challenge, covering the ‘Slice of life’ square.

Part 1

FEEDBACK IS GOLD AND APPRECIATED

“Uh, Y/N? Who’s this?” Dean said as Ollie had stopped playing with his toys and started to stare between the two new giants in the room.

Awkwardly, you rub and twist your hands around each other, a nervous act that you had acquired over the years. “This is my son, Oliver. Dean, I think we need to talk.”

“Hey, Sam? Could you watch him for a few minutes please?” When he accepted it, you graciously thanked him, leading Dean up to your bedroom away from prying eyes and ears. It was tough, stepping into your bedroom thinking about the last time you saw him and his brother.

“It’s really good to see you.” You break the silence as you sit on the edge of your bed.

He only nods, obviously it’s awkward, it’s been over three years since you had seen each other. “So, you wanted to talk.”

Damn it, the man is smart as hell but he could be oblivious to the most obvious things. Or maybe he knew about it and wanted to punish you. Either way, you were screwed and was going to have to tell him, you were going to have to spell it out for him.

“Oliver’s father hasn’t really been in his life-”

“What a douchebag! You need me to find him and beat him to a pulp?” Dean interrupted, his hand finding yours to stop them wringing together.

“Dean, he doesn’t know. It was a one time thing and he didn’t really have the capacity to take care of a kid, he was scared that he couldn’t keep anyone safe. I wasn’t about to spring him with a kid that he probably didn’t want when I could take care of Ollie myself”

“Was it another hunter?”

“Dean Winchester, I swear. I will lose my shit if you don’t let me tell you on my own terms.”

“Sorry, I just care about you. You know that, right? I’d do anything for you and Oliver.”

Your nose tingled as tears came to your eyes, hearing him say those words meant the word to you. You wished you had someone like that in Oliver’s life and it was your own fault for not telling his father in the first place because you were a scared piece of shit and chickened out on making that one phone call that could have potentially saved any of this embarrassment.

“Remember that night that shapeshifter took out my leg,and we hid in Bobby’s cabin and you took care of me?” You tried to explain slowly, his eyes widening as soon as the cogs in his head turned into place, suddenly remembering how that fateful night had ended. You couldn’t help but be ashamed of yourself. How you had deprived the man, the man you considered a best friend, the truth. The tears fell but you wiped them as quick as they came, you were not the victim, Dean was. It was of course a shitty thing to do.

“So, Oliver’s mine?” Dean asked, wrapping his head around what you had implied. With your bottom lip between your teeth, you nodded solemnly. Dean’s tongue brushed over his teeth, sucking on them. “And you didn’t think to call me at least to tell me that I have a goddamn son? What the fuck is wrong with you? Are you that fucking selfish? What if I wanted to help out, be there for Oliver, for you? You really think I don’t have the goddamn capacity to take care of a kid - my kid?”

He was right, of course he was, you were selfish to keep his own son away from him. You were scared and that was still no excuse. You swallowed, sniffling and nodding your head. “I tell him about you, you know.”

“Tell him that he’s got a deadbeat father that doesn’t know he exists?” Dean scoffs, almost a choked out laugh. He was on the verge of tears but the anger ripped right through him; all he could see was red.

“Nope,” you stand from the edge of your bed, scratching at the side of your face. You rummage through your bookshelf and find the box that you had hidden up there. “Quite the opposite actually. Told him you were practically a superhero. I tell him that I used to be yours and Sam’s sidekick.”

You both chuckle at that, Dean more so just because he knows that you were pretty much the Batman when you were at the bunker and more often than not, you were there to save their asses.

“He doesn’t believe it about me being out there with you because I’m just his mommy but he knows that you’re out there protecting him.That kid’s mind is like a sponge; he takes in all the information you tell him and-” You choked out, hiding it as a faux cough. “He’s smart, he definitely gets that from you. I didn’t want you to find out like this. I wanted to tell you before but I just got scared. I want you to be it Oliver’s life, even if that means you’re not in mine. This is all your decision.”

With that, you left the box on the bed,waiting a few seconds before you tapped him on his thigh, letting him ponder your words as you leave the room and head downstairs to where Oliver and his uncle is. You would have to tell him too.

Fuck.

“You havin’ fun there baby?” You ask Oliver, already knowing the answer as Sam throws him up into the air, catching him as soon as he falls back down. Almost a heart attack? Check. But the feeling all but dissipated when you hear his loud laughter.

“Yeah,” he laughs maniacally this time, it’s contagious and you can’t stop your own laugh. It was then that you knew the answer. Oliver was having the time of his life. At least he was bonding with his uncle Sammy already, babbling over and over about how he wanted to go again and higher this time.

“Ollie, you wanna go show Dean your dinosaur bed sheets? He’s upstairs in mommy’s room.” Sam handed him over to you and you lifted Oliver over the stair gate, watching as he toddled his way up the stairs safely. “You want a coffee? I’m sure you and Dean had a long drive.”

“Thank you,” he nods, following you into the kitchen. “So, I’m guessing you told him.”

Furrowing your eyebrows, you gave him a lost expression. “What are you t-”

Sam raises an eyebrow, lips pursed before he interrupts you. “Come on, Y/N. Don’t play dumb with me. You know what I’m talking about. Oliver looks exactly like a miniature Dean with a perfect mix of each of your skin tones. It doesn’t take a genius to figure it out either. We last saw you about three years ago and Oliver is two. Besides I heard the two of you before you left. It was gross so I slept in the car.”

“I guess, it’s pointless to say that you’re an uncle now, huh?” You scratch at your arm before grabbing the coffee pot and pouring him out a cup. “Sugar’s in the cupboard in the corner and creamer in the fridge, you know, if you changed your preferences from the last time I saw you.”

“The shouting upstairs kinda gave it away, made sure to play with Oliver to distract him.” You were thankful to have Sam, he was a good egg.

“I am sorry you had to find this way. I wanted to tell you but I didn’t want for us to become a liability. You were better off saving the world whilst I could protect me and Ollie. I didn’t want to be a burden to the two of you, especially when you had already looked after me, when we were young and stupid and I didn’t wanna listen to the two of you. I wanted to be the one to kick the shit out of you guys for lying about what goes bump in the night but the vamps beat me to it so I had to believe that the shit was real.”

“You shouldn’t swear, Oliver could pick up all the bad words you’re spewin’.” Dean says as he enters the kitchen, hand in hand with his son. “There better be enough coffee for me in that pot over there.”

You nod, making him one before you grab yourself an energy breakfast bar from the fridge. “You boys had breakfast?”

You made it to the small cafe, giving your friend a small wave as you entered with Oliver, Sam and Dean close behind you. Liah was quick to round the corner and say hello to her friend and her favourite little guy. The tall dudes that came behind her were just a bonus package to brighten her day.

“Hiya, sweetie.” She came in for a hug, squeezing you before she ruffled Oliver’s hair and pressed a kiss to the top of his head. “How are my favourite customers?”

“Better now that I’m seeing you.I feel like it’s been forever.”

“It’s been two months, Y/N. Of course it’s been forever but I’ve been busy with Eric and college.” She huffed and you told her that she didn’t have to say another word. You know how hard she worked. It was hard to balance work and college but you knew that Eric was good for her; he was keeping her on the right track, making sure that she slept, ate, took breaks from her studies. He really cared about her. “Take a seat with those fine ass men and I will take your order after I get some tips from that old geezer over there.”

She left, her notebook shoved into her apron as skipped over to the other side of the quiet diner.

“After you, find a booth anywhere you want, you’re my guests.” You said, waiting for the boys to find a table for the four of you.

“I really hope you’re paying because everything looks so good on this menu.” Dean groaned, overlooking the menu, you had to agree, they did cook some amazing things and you came in so much they made a secret menu item just for you.

“I’m paying but anything over two plates, you pay for yourself. I’m not made of money.”

Dean nodded, smiling when he noticed Liah come back with her pen and pad. “Am I getting you the Y/N special?”

“You know it, baby. Can you get Oliver some eggs and a little bit of bacon?”

“Sure thing. And for you boys?” Liah quickly scribbled down your order and waited for the boys to make up their mind.

Sam tucks his curtain of hair behind his ear. “Would it be okay to get a chicken salad with an egg white omelette on the side?”

Liah hummed, “any drinks with that?”

“Coffee, please.”

“And for you?” Dean is next on Liah’s list.

“Here we go, a stack of pancakes to start me off and then a plate of your greasiest breakfast foods you have.”

“Coming right up, you want a coffee too?”

Dean nods, thanking Liah as she walks away putting in your order, he’s almost certain that she’s spoken the words ‘baby daddy’ but he’s not too sure, his ear may have deceived him.

Liah comes out no later than 10 minutes, you know that everything is freshly cooked so you’re not worried about the wait. It gave you some moments with your favourite men, quietly catching up on the time that you lost with them, you never got tired of hearing their stories; even if it was their lives, you still loved that they were here to tell the tale.

You tucked into your food, watching over your family as they ate. Oliver inhaled his food almost as soon as it was set down on the table, you looked over at Dean and he had finished all but one of his pancakes. Like father, like son. You should have known really. All those years you spent with the Winchesters, all those annoying habits that got on your last goddamn nerve. But you still loved them - as much as you could.

“So I guess I’m finally meeting both of Oliver’s parents, right?” Liah whispers with a smile on her face, looking over your shoulder, making sure that you were out of earshot of the Winchesters and that Oliver was already preoccupied.

She was happy to meet Dean after all those times that you spoke of him. “Y/N’s told me a lot about you. All good things I promise, which is surprising because she talks a lot of shit about others. You must be really special to her.”

“He’s good people. One that protects others.” You look at Dean sincerely, catching his lips curl up into a smile before he watched Oliver play with his toy dinosaurs. “Sam’s not too bad either. Now go do your job before you almost get fired...again.”

After your meal, before you even have the chance to reach into your pocket, Dean takes the bill and pays for it all and by the smile on Liah’s face, you know that he left a tip. The four of you were back on your way to the place you called a home.

“So why Oliver? The name I mean.” Dean asks later that evening as Oliver watches his favourite show.

“Named him after my favourite superhero, duh.”

“Please don’t tell me his middle name is Arthur after Arthur Curry.” He groaned, almost whined. He hated Aquaman with a vengeance, a fish man that controls water.

“No Dean, you don’t have to worry about your son being called Oliver Arthur. He’s Oliver Dean, after my other hero.” You whisper, leaning back in your seat and staring into those gorgeous green eyes of his.

“The one who has saved my life countless times. The one who I should have told about his son. You’re the one who I loved Dean, the one who gave me the best gift of all even without knowing it.”

Dean doesn’t say anything. He can’t. Not with the tears gathering in his eyes, the ones matching yours. You’ve missed him. Missed the way the two of you would joke around. Missed the way that he would flirt with you. Missed the way that you could sit in complete silence, letting yourself bask in each other's company without ever being bored or would never be uncomfortable. But right now all you wanted to do was kiss him. You wanted him in your life but you couldn’t until you were sure that he wanted to be in Oliver’s life. That he wanted to be in your life.

“I loved you too.” His voice is small, almost unheard but you’ve trained your ears for any noise ever since Oliver was born. He licked at his lower lip, tugging it between his teeth before he whispered again. “I still love you, Y/N.”

His eyes drop to your lips before they drag away seeing Oliver asleep and Sam had already retired to the guest room upstairs. He’s slow, so slow, in fact, that you almost don’t see his movement but you know that he is when you feel his breath on your face. You know he’s there when his palm softly connects with your cheek. You know he’s there when he presses his forehead against yours. You missed his musky smell and you can’t help but press your lips against his.They’re familiar. One’s that you haven’t had the chance to remove from your memory. You didn’t really want to either.

Hands finding their way to Dean’s shoulders, you crawled into his lap, deepening the kiss. You wanted this, you wanted it from the moment you left three years ago but you pulled back. “I’m sorry. I-I shouldn’t have done that. You’re mad at me and I should have asked.”

You make a move to get off of his lap but he stops you. “Don’t stop. I’m not letting you go again. I’m not losing my family.”

FEEDBACK IS GOLD AND ALWAYS APPRECIATED

Forevers: @super100012 @lupine-princess @plaid-lover-bay25 @atc74 @growningupgeek @sophiebobzz @docharleythegeekqueen @poukothenerd @grace-for-sale @mrswhozeewhatsis @jesspfly @supernaturallymarvellous @sammysgirl1997 @roxyspearing @mogaruke @be-amaziing @deanandsamsbitch @frankiea1998 @hennessy0274-blog @spn-dean-and-sam-winchester @iwantthedean @capsheadquaters @emoryhemsworth @notmoose45 @essie1876 @cassieraider @brewsthespirit-blog @its-my-perky-nipples @riversong-sam @jotink78 @captainradicalpassion @jadalecki-jackles @spnbaby-67 @holyfuckloueh @gh0stgurl @alyssa6marie @esoltis280 @bumber-car-s @alexwinchester23 @x-waywardaf-x @thisismysecrethappyplace @randomparanoid @kellianz

Dean: @kenmen02 @ain-t-bovvered @deans-baby-momma @ericaprice2008 @shamelesslydean @thing-you-do-with-that-thing @wingedcatninja @mayasmedberg @kurosaki224-new-blog @valerieshubin @milo-winchester-4ever @sandlee44 @ruprecht0420 @akshi8278 @smoothdogsgirl @dslocum89 @plaidstiel-wormstache @ria132love @welldonebeca @iamabeautifulperson18 @starry-chaos @deans-treasure @larajadeschmidt13 @nyxveracity @dean-winchesters-bacon @adoptdontshoppets

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banshee-cheekbones · 4 years ago

Note

i loved your recent fic about snyder cut!barry allen, would you ever write a shipfic with that barry allen/iris west? their meetcute in the snyder cut was soooo cute

hey nonny! I loved this prompt and took a crack at it! I ended up going with nonbinary Barry again, using they/them pronouns. please enjoy!

also used for the fluff square on my @transbingo card.

~1800 words, on ao3 here.

second chance at a first impression.

At first, when Barry steps into the coffee shop at the edge of campus, they don’t notice anything out of the ordinary.

It’s just a normal coffee shop, part of a chain with two dozen locations spread across the city. Most of the tables are occupied by students, surrounded by textbooks and papers and laptops. While most of the customers are wearing headphones, there’s still a steady murmur of conversation filling the air, weaving perfectly with the lo-fi music playing over the speakers. The place smells absolutely decadent, like fresh roasted beans and sugar and chocolate, and even though they ate a full pizza for breakfast (after going for a quick run to Gotham and back in the hopes of burning off some of the nervous energy fluttering through their body), Barry's stomach still rumbles loudly.

It’s unlikely that eating anything other than the full contents of the glass display case lining the counter is going to have any impact on their hunger, but at the very least, maybe it’ll keep them satiated long enough to keep their stomach from interrupting their first class of the semester.

They get into line, absently glancing down at the time on their phone, only barely aware that there are a handful of people queued up in front of them. They still have half an hour before they have to get to class – plenty of time to get some coffee and enjoy a muffin (or three). Realistically, it could be a minute before class and they’d still have time to eat and end up in a front row seat, but they want to avoid using their powers on campus if possible. It’s probably not completely possible to keep their two identities separate, to keep The Flash from bleeding into Barry Allen, college student, but if they don’t try, then they’ll regret it.

They make a note to ask Clark about it, the next time they have a League meeting. They’re closest with Arthur, but seeing as he doesn’t give two shits about his secret identity being known, Barry doesn’t think he’s the best person to consult in this case.

Once they’ve decided on which three muffins to get, they turn their attention to the intimidating drink menu hanging above the counter. By the time they parse through the options and settle on something that sounds packed to the gills with sugar, they’re second in line, and they lower their eyes from the menu just in time for the person standing directly in front of them to turn around.

Barry’s stomach drops to the floor, but this time, it has nothing to do with hunger.

Standing in front of them, eyes wide, mouth partially open, dark curls spiraling away from her face, is the woman. The one that they saved a mere month ago (although, with everything that happened after that, with them resurrecting Clark and saving the world from Steppenwolf and discovering that, if they run enough, they can completely destroy the flow of time, it feels more like a year has passed since that day). The one that Barry has thought about almost every day. The one that they thought they would never see again – Central City may be small compared to Gotham or Metropolis, but it’s still a damn city, big enough that Barry has a hard enough time running into people they actually know, let alone people they’ve encountered for a handful of seconds.

They were long seconds, though. Long enough that Barry noticed how beautiful the woman’s dark eyes were, noticed how the smile that spread across her mouth once she was out of harm’s way lit up her round face, noticed how soft her hair was when they moved it away from her eyes.

They may have been mere seconds, and Barry may not have found out her name, but that hasn’t stopped them from thinking about her.

And now, here she is. Standing right in front of them.

Barry is faintly aware of the barista speaking to them, probably asking them to move forward and order, but for the first time in years, even though their brain is screaming at them to do something, to move, they feel physically rooted to the spot.

They don’t know what the chances of meeting like this are, but they’re sure that, if they asked Vic to run the math, his answer would be something like astronomically low.

They need to move. Not only because they’re holding up the line, but because this has to be weird for the woman. They only had a few seconds together, and Barry would be surprised if she remembers them in any real detail, which means that she’s probably wondering why she’s being openly stared at by some weirdo when she just wanted to get some breakfast.

And yet, despite the energy they can feel flickering through their body, Barry can’t move. They can’t get over the sheer unlikeliness of the situation, can’t stop themselves from flicking from one what-if situation to the next.

If they had decided to skip coffee and a snack, if they had decided to wait until the last minute and then bolt across the city straight to class, if they had been delayed for any reason, then this wouldn’t be happening.

Why is the universe so unfathomably strange?

Just when they think that the only way to move forward is to give into the Speed Force, shoot through the plate glass window at the front of the shop and hope that the crash causes enough of a distraction that everyone in the nearby vicinity forgets that they were there in the first place, the woman speaks.

“It’s you.” Her voice is soft, influenced by the smile curling her mouth, nearly as bright as the gold, silk scarf tied around her neck. She steps away from the line, over to the small counter stocked with sweeteners and lids and stir sticks, and Barry automatically follows her. Even though they're definitely moving, it still feels like they’re walking through molasses, like time hasn’t fallen back to its regular pace yet.

“You remember me?” they ask, still not entirely convinced that this isn’t some wild kind of fever dream or vision. Maybe they lost their concentration on the way to campus and got mowed down by a truck, and this is a last gift from their brain to make up for the whole dying thing.

If that’s the case, it might be the nicest gift Barry has ever received.

The woman nods. “I do. You saved my life.”

She’s right – Barry may be full of self-deprecation, but even they know that their abilities are the only thing that saved her from certain death. But still, hearing her say it so frankly, so gratefully, makes them feel off-balance, like the world is tilting right underneath their normally so sure feet.

“I was just in the right place at the right time,” they manage to stammer, seizing one of the pronoun pins decorating the front of their black denim jacket and twisting it back and forth, trying to keep their fingers moving at normal human speed. It’s a poor substitution for running, but for the time being, it’ll have to do. “Sorry I couldn’t save your car. It, um, looked like a nice one. I think. I don’t really know much about cars.” Instinctively, they wince at their own words – it may be a true statement (they've never been a car person, even before they gained their powers), but still, it being the truth doesn’t make it any less embarrassing.

Thankfully, the woman just shrugs.

“It was a nice car. But that’s what insurance is for. I have a better one now.” She waves out the window at a yellow convertible, long and blocky and definitely older than Barry is, parked outside the shop, before she says, “I looked for you, afterwards.” As someone approaches the counter, she takes a step forward, so that she’s out of their way. It puts her close enough to Barry that they can smell her citrus perfume, see the flecks of gold glitter mixed into her burgundy eye shadow. “I wanted to thank you. But it was like you disappeared into thin air.”

Close enough, Barry thinks.

“Sorry about that. I�� I had to run.” It’s a lame excuse, but it’s not an entirely inaccurate one - they had unfinished business with the dog groomer after all.

(Even if their business didn’t end with a job offer, they got to feed the dogs some sausage from the vendor whose cart got destroyed, which was, frankly, almost as good as landing a job.)

“Well, it’s not too late.” The woman’s full lips turn up into another smile. “Could I buy you a drink? If you have time, I mean. I don’t want to keep you if there’s somewhere you need to be.”

Barry’s heart stutters as they glance at the clock behind the barista counter and confirm that there’s still plenty of time until they’re supposed to get to class. Not that it matters, really - even if they’re late, it’s only the first class. They probably aren’t going to miss anything more exciting than the instructor reading through the syllabus, which is something they can do later (not to mention faster.

They don’t intend on slacking off on their degree – they want to make their dad proud – but they’re pretty sure that the universe has given them a pass for today.

“Okay,” they say, feeling their own lips curl up into a smile that mirrors her. “Yeah, I’d, um, I’d really like that.”

“Me too,” she replies. Waving at the lineup, she says, “After you.”

The line has grown while they were talking, reaches almost all the way to the entrance now, but Barry is more than happy to wait – not only because they’ve completely forgotten what drink they planned on ordering and need to look at the menu again, but also because it means they get to spend a few more minutes with the woman.

Whose name they still don’t know.

“Hey,” they say, looking away from the menu, all thoughts of coffee forgotten for the time being. She’s a few inches shorter than they are, and when she tilts her head up to look at them, they lose their train of thought for a few seconds. Thankfully, they’re able to snatch the train before it completely leaves the station and ask, “What’s your name?”

“Iris.” She shifts her coffee and the bag containing a muffin into one hand and holds out the other. “And you?”

“Barry.” They take her hand and quickly shake it, trying not to notice how soft her skin is, how glossy her deep orange nail polish is.

“It’s nice to properly meet you.” Fingers trailing across their palm as she lets go, she says, with a teasing glint in her eyes, “Don’t run off on me again. Not before I can buy you a coffee at least.”

“Don’t worry,” they reply. Their stomach is fluttering again, but this time, it’s less from hunger and more from the butterflies swarming through it, butterflies that aren’t going to go away anytime soon. “I won’t.”

#transbingo #barry x iris #dc fanfiction #justice league fanfiction #mine #mine: fic #thank you so much for this prompt!

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tenderlyrenjun · 4 years ago

Text

away we happened

summary: leaving jaemin to deal with math problems and renjun’s problems, jeno accompanies his parents to a gala in japan, and he gets the rare opportunity to see a ghost. ↛ ↛ ↛ rich boy!jeno x rich kid!reader ↛ ↛ college au, rich kids au, mentions of food, secret rendevous, might do another part for jaemin but idk yet ↛ word count: 1.8k

spin off from the rich truth: part four

"You’re not supposed to be back here.”

Jeno slowly sets down his phone, starting with the speakers then gently cupping his fingertips behind, on the camera. He looks at the second intruder, his now accomplice, and his jaw starts to close again, preventing the half-chewed gyoza from falling off his tongue. His other hand, which hid under the small, square bamboo plate, moves every non-essential item from his person so that he can adjust his tie and re-button his suit jacket. Jeno returns his glasses on the bridge of his nose, now needing to aid his vision for the far away beauty at the secret entrance of the kitchen. Well, this place is not really a secret, but he likes to think it is, otherwise his parents would find him ditching their colleagues at yet another vaguely important. And it is not like he has no reason to ditch - Jaemin, notoriously bad at math, is working, back in Korea, on their physics worksheet, alone; his parents stole him away at a bad time. Though, as he takes a look at you, dressed in some well-known designer evening wear, he knows that coming to Japan was not a mistake.

“You’re not supposed to be here either,” Jeno tells you, straightening up. His toes tap inside his black oxfords, hesitating to take the first step forward. And he does not, instead choosing to challenge the situation, as if you would betray him again and expose this place, this rendezvous, to his parents.

You roll your eyes, gliding further into the kitchen, now that the penultimate appetizer tray has left with the last of the champagne. Taking note of Jeno’s cutlery, you assume that he sequestered the remaining bits of food so that he could hide away back here until the announcements began. After all, it is a ritual you two share, no matter the continent. And consequently, you relax into your shoes, heel clicks translating into acoustic waves; Jeno thinks, probably still caught up by his international texts to Jaemin. You mute every sound, turning off his phone ringer first then slide onto the counter, face-to-face: an effective way to provoke his attention. The little paper bowl of soba noodles look the most delicious, you deem, and they make their way into a neat pile around Jeno’s remaining gyoza pieces, accompanied by a few extra cucumbers from the other dishes.

“The speeches are going to start in twenty minutes,” you reveal, passing the plate back into his hands. You pick up some utensils and dip it shallowly into the mini-mountain, then feed yourself a bite and pass it onto Jeno. “You ... We should leave here soon.”

Your torso turns away from him, allowing you to grab a nearby by napkin. It feels soft between your fingers and you yield back to Jeno while staring at the little paper cloth. Do you wipe his mouth too? Or have you lost that privilege, from all the distance that has separated you two? That distance seems so small now, as he watches you and you refuse to look into his eye, despite all the intimate acts you keep initiating.

Once your body feels too warm, burning bluer than his suit, your leg shakes toward the ground, foot dipping below your outfit’s lowest hem. And even though he duplicated your introductory accusation, Jeno does not want you to leave. He brings his palm up your thigh, onto your waist, repositioning you chest to chest, face to face, still on the counter (where appetizers belong). You ball the napkin into your hands before discarding it to the side, where your gaze follows, but he brings you to look at him with three little words:

“Don’t go yet,” he asks of you, eyes downcast at his fingers toying with your satin material, suddenly losing all of his confidence. He can feel your stare bouncing trough to crest to trough, your hands and his acting as pivotal nodes. His eyes though stand an amplitude taller, right under yours, at an origin neither of you can muster the courage to wave through.

"Why?” you copy his tone. He peeks up, shoulders tugged forward by your disposition as a smile tugs towards him. You keep in a personal bubble, but not annoyed when he breaks it, hands coming up your arms until you whisper a little taunt: “Scared that I’ll snitch?”

“Like you did last time?” he mimics you.

And you roll your eyes again, hand grazing his chest as you push him away. The second you detach from him, he grabs your wrist, staying true to his request. His grip is loose enough for you to truly leave if you want, but small enough to make an impact. So you indulge him, slipping your fingers between his, pulling his hand into your lap.

“Last time,” you reminisce out loud, “you almost got me in trouble with my parents.”

Jeno’s head falls, dangling chin against chest. His hair looks overly gelled, you notice then scan down his face. Something you will never forget, and particularly fall in love with over and over, is his smile - it sneaks into all the corners of his profile, across his eyes, raising his cheekbones, freeing his lips. And ever so enamored with bringing that beam, or at least some variation of it, back into his face, you stroke his bangs away, like opening curtains to the sunshine. Jeno perks up, his eyes finding yours then closing as he leans into your hand.

“But seriously,” you alert him, almost reminding him of Renjun’s soft voice when he is annoyed - it essentially tells him that you have spent too much time apart. When he opens his eyes again, the warmth of your palm unmasking his face, he sees you staring out the circular window on the kitchen’s main entrance. “We should get going.” You turn back to Jeno, retreating your hand and jumping off the counter, standing closer than the width of a magazine. “Remember the charity gala? Christmas 2018?”

Jeno trails your fingertips, nodding his head back into your palm. “Of course. You threw me under the bus because your parents hadn’t found us yet.”

“Yeah,” you confirm, trailing off.

A few social events ago, when you were addicted to your phone and lavish trysts, consumed by fighting for popularity at an international school in Germany that Jeno had never heard about until then, you wandered into the back room as it functioned like a closet for the toy donation and attendee’s coats. You kept staring at your phone and it only riled Jeno up, having met up with him earlier than usual. It felt weird, he recalls, because he gets to know you through all your social media updates and the infrequent FaceTime calls from a different timezone. He wanted your attention - handing you champagne glasses filled with cider, doing dumb dances to make you laugh, pulling out toys from the bins so that you would at least look at him instead of whoever the fuck Yangyang was. All his tactics were so effective, even the one where he poured his beverage into a water gun and stained your trousers, just under the knee; that you literally lost your phone that night. The two of you ended up giggling loudly until someone leaned in; Jeno thinks it was you and you think it was him, and the only thing either of you can implicitly agree upon is the illustrative glow on each other’s faces. Then his mom came knocking around and stumbled on the two of you before dragging Jeno, mouth stained red and jacket around your shoulders, out by the ear. His mom was going to tell your parents about how you were a bad influence on her son, but you told her that it was his idea to wander about prior to the actual start of the gala, even citing one of secret rendezvous points that you knew she was aware of.

“Can’t believe you ratted me out,” Jeno marvels, his tone light, without malice as he stands more upright. “You know that she capped my bank account and sent me to Kumon?”

Ah, of course you know that. It was the first reason he mentioned when he finally caught the time to talk to you, just before this semester started. You never forget a detail about him.

“Hey,” Jeno calls at you, his hand drifting toward your cheek now, repeating your actions onto you. His opposite hand braces against the counter thickness, almost to keep balance before you two head out into separate worlds again. He smiles though when you lean into his touch, clasping your hands at his lower back. His grip loosens as you tilt your head back, shaking your hair free, but ultimately, you return to his embrace. “You’re like a ghost most of the time.”

“How can I be?” you implore him, staring up in his eyes. Your hands travel up his chest, smoothing over the lapels, until you wrap around his neck. The urge to taunt him again goes suppressed as you focus on how handsome he is in this moment. And with the way he guides you, guides your conversation, you feel comfortable and curious, bouncing to the tips of your toes to meet him closer. “You see me online all the time.”

Jeno’s hand raises outside your arms, and his finger draws on your hair strand, springing it playfully a few times instead of answering you, almost like giving himself time to respond. Usually he would do this at the gala with some sparkling wine or at a dinner with a glass of water, and like you, he tries not to forget the little illustrations about your life, but then again ...

“It’s not the same,” he answers you, “and you know it.” By now the first announcer can be heard outside, which means the silver platters will interrupt their brief tête-à-tête - god, does it always need to be so short, because ... “I miss you.”

Your eyes glisten at him apologetically, and he tells you that it is okay, holding your face intimately in his hands. You bend into his embrace, wrapping your fingers around his. He continues soothing you, as if taking turns with you in a silent conversation, rubbing at your cheeks with his lone thumb, the only appendage free from your grip. It seems symbolic, since the two of you always have one foot out the door - almost literally in this case. You turn your head, looking out the window one more time before referring into Jeno one last time.

“I’m sorry.”

#the rich truth.

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paperanddice · 4 years ago

Text

Tears of the Crocodile God Part 9

Continuing with the hazards of the Weeping Labyrinth, and this update will be focused primarily on the snake section of the adventure. I think it’s the most hazard heavy section, with the Hag’s Lair and the Mold King’s Crown both having fairly involved and positioning dependent hazards to work around. At least in the 4e version. Since neither 5e nor 13th Age have the same degree of forced movement, hazardous terrain turns into off limit zones in 5e, while 13th Age doesn’t do that much environmental positioning at all. Depending on how important the hazard is to the idea of the encounter, this could be difficult.

Hag’s Lair

Fortunately, this encounter functions just fine if the hazard is a more passive thing. Deep pits of toxic mud fill the room, but none of the enemies have forced movement powers. The risk comes more from if the players rush, as the floor is slippery and thus anything more than slow movement risks losing your balance and sliding in. That’s not too bad.

5th Edition

Movement in this room imposes a choice. Either the character can choose to spend 1 extra foot of movement for every foot moved, or they can choose to move at their normal speed and make a DC 12 Dexterity (Acrobatics) check, falling prone on a failure. If the character falls prone while adjacent to one of the muck pits, that character slides into the pit and is affected by that hazard.

The muck pits themselves are difficult terrain, and any creature that ends its turn in the pit must make a DC 14 Strength (Athletics) check or sink 5 feet deeper into the mud, to a maximum depth of 20 feet. A creature that starts its turn submerged int he mud must make a DC 14 Constitution saving throw or take 7 (2d6) poison damage, become poisoned for one hour, and contract cackle fever. Old Beshebra and her sons are immune to these effects.

13th Age

A character must choose to either spend two move actions to cover the same amount of ground as a single normal move action, or make a DC 20 Skill check to cover the distance with a single move action. Failing that skill check means the character loses that move action as they fall prone and have to scramble back up to their feet. Rolling a natural 1-5 on this check and failing results in the character sliding into a mud pit, where they become stuck (save ends). Failing the save results in the character becoming hampered as long as they are stuck. Failing another save results in the character also taking 10 ongoing poison damage as long as they are stuck and hindered. Failing the save yet again results in the character contracting cackle fever. After the battle, roll a d6 to determine the symptoms of it. If you’re playing these characters on past the end of this adventure, look on the 13th Age SRD under the Death-Plague Orc to determine how diseases function long term.

Cackle fever symptoms (d6) 1: High fever, occasional mild visual or audio hallucinations. 2-3: Occasional delusions. You take a -3 penalty to initiative checks as the combat doesn’t seem real to you for a few moments. 4+: Bouts of wild, cackling laughter that incapacitate you. Whenever you experience high stress (during combat, dangerous scenarios, experiencing a nightmare), you must make an easy saving throw (6+). On a failure, you are stunned for one round as you burst into wild laughter.

Old Beshebra and her sons are immune to all of these effects.

Mold King’s Crown

Here’s where things get to be more effort. The three separate traps and hazards in this room, plus a magic item, means that the whole thing is just a pain to convert. Especially with how positioning based one of the hazards is. The death mold is a pain for both editions, partly because the way it functions in 5e is a little confusing. There’s supposedly 2 death mold hazards in the room, but there’s technically at least 4 sources of death mold period. Each of the 4 statues is infested with the mold. Given that the death mold activates when something moves within 3 squares of it, how does that function with this conflict in the number of locations? And the death mold isn’t given a specific location on the map anyway, so is it just that the four sources of death mold activate a combined two times per round, off of whatever statues are appropriate? It’s just not very clear.

One thing that’s consistent for both systems is that the casket contains a special magic scroll that allows anyone who reads it to view an important image of the history of an object they touch. Only one use.

5th Edition

It requires a DC 25 Wisdom (Perception) check to notice the pressure plates under the water’s surface. Any attempt to check for them with gentle foot steps or poking with a pole has a 25% chance of automatically activating the trap, but otherwise identifies the pressure plate without triggering it. Once any pressure plate has been stepped on however, the sluices open and 4 river crocodiles enter the room each round, continuing until all 40 have arrived. There’s no way of stopping this process once it’s begun.

Death Mold

Death mold releases bursts of deadly spores when it senses living creatures nearby. The first time during a round that a living creature moves within 15 feet of the mold or starts its turn there, the mold unleashes a burst of spores in a 15-foot cone. Creatures in that area must make a DC 13 Constitution saving throw, taking 7 (2d6) poison damage and becoming poisoned for 1 minute on a failure. If a Small or Medium living creature is reduced to 0 hp while poisoned this way, it immediately dies and transforms into a death mold zombie. The zombie rolls initiative and acts on its turn. The poisoned creature can repeat the saving throw at the end of each of its turns, ending the effect on itself on a success. The mold recharges this burst on initiative count 20 each round (losing initiative ties). If the mold is dealt radiant damage, it immediately goes dormant. Its spore burst is immediately expended to no effect, and doesn’t recharge the next round on initiative 20. Any amount of fire damage completely destroys the death mold.

Mold King’s Casket Mechanical trap If this mithril casket is broken or opened incorrectly, a store of alchemical explosives within it immediately go off, detonating the chest. Each creature within 20 feet of the casket must make a DC 15 Dexterity saving throw, taking 17 (5d6) fire damage on a failed save, or half as much damage on a successful one. The chest has AC 15, 20 hp, immunity to poison and psychic damage. A DC 20 Dexterity check using thieves’ tools opens the chest, but failing the check by 5 or more or failing it twice in a row causes the chest to activate.

Mold King’s Crown Wondrous item, rare (requires attunement) While wearing this crown, you gain resistance to poison damage and are immune to contracting any disease. If you are already infected with a disease, the effects of the disease are suppressed while you wear the crown. In addition, as long as you are attuned to this item, you do not age naturally. Curse. This crown is cursed, and becoming attuned to it extends the curse to you. As long as you remain cursed, any creature that regains hit points while within 50 feet of you must immediately make a DC 15 Constitution saving throw against disease or contract blistering fever. This disease functions exactly like filth fever, except for the following changes: • Symptoms manifest immediately • The save DC to reduce exhaustion levels is 15 instead of 11. • A creature infected with blistering fever that has 5 levels of exhaustion becomes highly infectious. Any living creature that ends its turn within 5 feet of the infected creature must make a DC 15 Constitution save or become infected with blistering corruption.

13th Age

The pressure plates for the crocodile dropping pipes can be spotted with a DC 25 skill check. A character that approaches a statue carelessly steps on and activates the pressure plate, initiating the battle as 4 river crocodiles immediately enter the room. Otherwise, the pressure plates activate during the first round of combat as either a character or a death mold zombie steps on one. Either way, for the next 10 rounds 4 river crocodiles join the battle on their turn until a total of 40 crocodiles enter the battle. Even if there’s no crocodiles in the room, keep their turn in the initiative order and have 4 more show up when they’re supposed to.

Death Mold

This is the one that caused me the most difficulty. Positioning based hazards like this don’t really function in 13th Age very well. This is my best interpretation of it, going off of the idea that the 4 statues are spaced around the room in such a way that just about any living creature who enters the room should be nearby to at least one statue at all times. Prioritize the river crocodiles with the attacks, the concept of the encounter is regular crocodiles turning into additional death mold crocodiles, and nobody is supposed to enjoy that.

Death mold: DC 20 skill check to identify the death mold as a danger, or to move during combat without setting off the death mold; +10 vs. PD (1d3+1 nearby living creatures in a group) - 2d10 poison damage. Mooks are immediately reduced to 0 hp. A creature that is reduced to 0 hp by this damage immediately dies and becomes a death mold zombie. Multiple use, 1/turn, maximum 2/round.

The river crocodiles automatically activate the mold when they move, as they have no concept of how it is a threat or how to avoid it.

Mold King’s Casket: DC 30 skill check to pick the lock, trap only activates on a result of 25 or lower; +15 vs. PD (creature triggering trap plus 1d3 nearby creatures) - 3d10 fire damage. Single use. Also activates if the casket is destroyed by a DC 25 skill check or if it takes 20 damage.

Mold King’s Crown: While wearing this crown, you gain +2 MD, have resist poison damage 12+, and you cannot be infected by any disease. When a nearby creature regains hp, it must make an easy saving throw (6+) or be infected by blistering corruption. Roll a d6 for the diseases symptoms after the battle, or immediately if the creature is infected outside of battle. Quirk: Insists on being treated like royalty. Blistering Corruption Symptoms (d6) 1: A rash of blisters, swirling with corrupted ichor. 2-3: Painful boils. You take a -2 penalty to PD. 4+: Open sores weeping disgusting ichor. You regain half the normal amount of hp when you heal using recoveries. See the Death-Plague Orc in the 13th Age SRD to determine how the disease functions over time if the character is infected and this is part of a long running campaign.

All right then. That was a bit. Next time we’ll wrap up the traps and hazards for the adventure, and after that we can start putting it all together into the actual encounters.

#D&D #DnD #Dungeons and Dragons #5th edition #13th Age #my homebrew #adventure #Tears of the Crocodile God

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