#core memory for me because everyone was laughing at me for a good minute

[tittyinfinity]

why is it that my doctor pissed me off so much yet I'm suddenly bawling my eyes out over the fact that I won't see him again after 8 1/2 years

[tropes-and-tales]

Fall from Grace

(Captain John Price x F!Reader)

CW:  Slight angst. Inexperienced (but not virgin) reader. Smut (oral, f!receiving; PiV, unprotected). 18+ only.

Word Count:  7324

AN:  This was requested by an anonymous person!

It’s part of Captain Price’s job to know his soldiers.  He has their dossiers memorized, of course, but he also learns them intimately through their work together.  How could he not?  War reveals the true core of a person, their real character, but the mundane moments add color.  The long helicopter rides, the long plane rides.  The long stretches of time sitting, waiting for intel, waiting for orders.

It's boring.  His soldiers talk to fill the quiet and pass the time.  They joke and tease each other, discuss football matches and rugby scores.  Sometimes, when it’s dark outside, in the quiet hours before dawn, they talk in low voices and share secrets, fears, worries. 

Captain Price overhears much of it.

He overhears Gaz talk about his girl back in London, how terrified he is to lose her.  How he worries that he’ll never be good enough for her.

He overhears Ghost’s low rumble as he talks about his family and the loss of them.  How losing his brother Tommy and his nephew Joseph broke some part of him that will never heal.

He overhears Soap—convivial Soap—talk about his passel of siblings and how they’ve all married and found careers and started to have children.  How he feels left behind, out of sync with his own family.  How he doesn’t want to go home on leave, sometimes, because he feels so out of step with where he came from.

What Captain Price overhears from you is less deep for a long while.  You’re a cipher.  He has the bare facts of your dossier, but when it’s the small hours of the night and everyone is restless, you don’t open up the way the men do.  You rarely let your guard down.

It shouldn’t affect Price, but it does.  Is it a benign sort of misogyny that makes him want to protect you more than he does Gaz or Ghost or Soap?  Or is it the fact that he sees how hard you try, how you keep your walls up even when everyone else is sharing their darkest secrets?  Is it because he worries that you think he’s judging you, that when you catch him watching you, you see judgement there?

So for a long while, Price overhears little from you.  He hears inconsequential things.  Music you like, your favorite brand of beer.  A memory from your childhood that makes the guys laugh.

But there is a night where it changes.

The 141 is on a plane back to base.  The latest mission was a success, a new terrorist group quashed before it could get off the ground.  Price sits in the back of the plane and gets a head start on his paperwork while you and the guys sit around a four-seat table and play a no-stakes game of poker for little chits of torn notebook paper.

Everyone has leave coming up, so the evening’s talk is brighter.  There’s more laughter, more gentle shoving and ribbing as Gaz throws down winning cards and sweeps the pile of chits in front of him.

And when the chatter turns to sex, Captain Price bites the inside of his cheek to keep from smiling.  He’s reminded that these soldiers, his men, are little more than boys sometimes.

It starts with Gaz waxing poetic about his girl, and Soap makes it bawdy by saying Gaz will spend his leave horizontal and return to base dehydrated and exhausted.  Gaz chucks him on the shoulder but Price can see the pleased grin on the man’s face:  of course he’s going to spend a lot of his leave in bed with his girl.

Then it shifts to Soap and his handful of reliable hook-ups.  He says he has a bevy of women, all Scottish and feisty, and that earns him a chuck from you, a hard little punch to his bicep and you tell him to behave himself.

“Ach, don’t be jealous, hen,” Soap whines, rubbing his arm.  “I could clear some room in the schedule for ye if ye want to join me in Inverness.”

“That’s a lot of travel for, what?  Two minutes of disappointment?”

Soap lays his palm over his heart, mimes being wounded, and he says something in reply but Price misses it because Gaz and Ghost are laughing too loudly.

And that’s how Price learns about you.  The flight turns into rapid-fire questions, talk, and rejoinders about sex.  You mostly stay silent, but you take little zings—mostly at Soap—but each time Price glances over at you, your face has a taut quality that he’s only seen on the battlefield.

Interesting.

If he thought it’d be something for him to mull over later, he’s wrong.  Halfway through the flight, Gaz brings up the topic of favorite positions, and when Soap asks you what your favorite position is, you snort and say, “on my right side, curled up with my pillow, alone.  Asleep.  White noise machine set on ‘rainstorm.’”

That makes Price laugh, but he covers it smoothly with a cough, keeps his head bent over his paperwork.

But the guys are like sharks, and your sarcastic non-answer is like chum in the water.  And you’re good—smart, resilient—but you’re also their captive audience, and they wear you down.

An hour into their three-on-one interrogation, the truth comes out:  you are fairly inexperienced at sex.

“Virgin?” asks Gaz.

“No.”

“How many times—” starts Soap, but you cut him with a glare that even he won’t challenge.

“Were you assaulted?” Ghost asks in his soft rumble, and that makes you go soft too, your glare shifting from Soap to gazing at the hulking man in his skull mask.

“No, Si.”  Your voice is low, and Price watches as  you lay a gentle hand on Ghost’s forearm.  “I’m lucky.  Never that.”

Ghost pats your hand with his own.  “Just saying, love.  If you were, and you knew the guy’s name, I’d make him a grease stain before the week is out.”

(And this is part of why being a captain is such a burden:  the quiet little exchange between you and Ghost makes a hot flare of love burn in his chest, how the two of you are like a brother and sister to each other.  The purest form of found family.)

But then Soap breaks the moment.  “Just not into it then?”

You shrug.  “Guess not.”

“Why?”  Gaz asks it, and he sounds genuinely curious.

Another shrug.  “It’s hard to have a relationship in our line of work.”

“Ah,” Soap says.  He leans back in his seat, crosses his arms over his chest.  “Makes sense now.  You need to be in love with someone before you’ll sleep with ‘em.”

“Not necessarily.”  You reach out and gather the playing cards, the poker game long abandoned.  Price watches from under the brim of his hat as you fiddle with the cards, stacking them up, squaring the edges, shuffling them idly.

“Then what?” Soap prods, and you sigh.

“I dunno.  It’s just…a lot of work, you know?  You gotta vet a guy even if he’s a one-night stand, and you have to play it cool but not too cool, and you have to be friendly but not too friendly. You have to shower and shave and smell nice but not put on too much perfume, and you have to dress just right and wear uncomfortable lingerie and pinching shoes.  I did all that shit when I was in my twenties, and the handful of times I finally got a guy on the line and reeled him in?  It wasn’t worth the effort.  All that work and stress for what?  A few minutes of nothing.  A few minutes of bad kissing where the guy slobbers on me worse than a Saint Bernard, awful beer breath too.  And while he’s jamming his tongue down my throat, he’s groping me like someone drowning and grabbing at a life preserver.  Then what?  Then the main event, and all that effort is a waste because he doesn’t notice the nice lingerie at all, he doesn’t notice that I smell nice and shaved and moisturized because he’s lying on top of me like some paradoxical corpse slash jackhammer because he’s weirdly positioned and barely touching me, not looking at me, just dead eyes fixed off into space, but he’s also, what, thrusting for half a minute before he’s done?  And then it’s ‘thanks, love, great shag,’ and he’s rolling off of me, getting dressed again and out the door, and the entire affair took less time than it takes to bake a frozen pizza.  I mean, what’s the point?”

A deadly silence falls over the group.  The only sound is the thrum of the plane’s engines, and you look up from where you’re fiddling with the cards to find everyone staring at you.  Your eyes dart over to where Price is staring at you too, and you make a face and duck your head.

“Jesus, hen,” Soap breathes out.

“I’m sorry,” Gaz adds. 

You chuckle weakly.  “For what?”

“On behalf of men, I guess?”

Ghost, at least…sweet Ghost and his brotherly love for you…he pats your hand and says quietly, “well, you always smell nice, love, and I always notice.”

-----

Price doesn’t do anything. 

Leave starts and you disappear, off to someplace on your list of places to visit.  Who knows with you?  You love the world, all parts of it, so it’s just as likely that you’re in a jungle in Costa Rica as you would be in Tokyo.

Leave ends and the team reassembles.  There’s a mission in the mountains of a country teetering into civil war.  There’s a mission for intel.  There’s an extraction mission.  There’s a mission to take down a warlord in a lithium-rich country, and there’s a close call there.  A bullet grazes you, cuts a burning line along your hip, and seeing you bloodstained and limping pulls Price up short.

He shouldn’t care the way he does.  He cares about all of his soldiers, loves everyone, but he’d be lying if you weren’t different.  The love he holds for the men is paternal:  Soap and Ghost and Gaz are the sons he never had.

You?  His love for you is more complicated.  There’s a whiff of paternalism, a protectiveness that he knows you’d chafe at if you knew.  There’s admiration, of course.  But there’s also a deep vein of romantic love that threads between you and Price, and if you don’t know it, it’s only because Price has a good poker face and hides his feelings so well.

By the time you’re shot, everyone has earned another leave.  Ghost, Gaz, and Soap all disappear for a month.  Price could go to his empty house in the countryside, but he usually just stays on base anyway.

You?

The night before leave starts, there’s a knock on his office door, and when he calls out, you poke your head in.

“Have a moment, sir?”

He nods, gestures at the chair in front of his desk, and he winces internally at how you limp a bit, your stitches obviously pulling.  You settle in your seat and he nods at you to start.

“I thought I might stay here for leave,” you say.  “I’m not really in any shape to travel, and I’d be close to medical if anything goes bad with my wound.”

He says nothing, so you add, with less certainty, “would that be alright, sir?”

Price clears his throat.  “Of course.”

Of course it’s okay that you stay on base for leave.  With him.  With few other people around.

-----

But he does nothing during your month together.  How could he?  He’s your superior.  It would be wildly inappropriate to knock on your door some evening and confess his feelings for you.

One small concession:  he orders you to call him ‘John’ while you’re on leave.  No Captain, no ‘sir.’  He wants you at ease, relaxed, healing.  You still wake up early, he notices.  You train on a modified program as you heal.  You keep your room painfully neat, hospital corners on your bed, boots polished and tucked in your foot locker.

But you do relax.  You go off base and have a pint alone in a pub, come back slightly looser with your smiles.  His name rolls easier off your tongue when you have some alcohol in you.

You lie on the couch in the rec room and read giant novels.  You doze off to tennis on the television, and Price aches as he watches you sleep.  You look so young this way; the years and stress slough off of you in slumber.

There is one night he cajoles you into joining him out for dinner off base.  There’s a steakhouse nearby, and Price is craving a steak and a whiskey and a good cigar, and he’s craving your company.  You agree, and the weeks on leave have softened you towards him.  Maybe you see him as John now and not just Captain Price, and the conversation over steak flows so evenly that any casual observer might think it a date between an established couple.

But he does nothing more.  Not this time.

-----

Leave ends.  Another mission.  Another.  Intel-gathering, coup-ending.  They intercept a dirty bomb for sale in a Morocco marketplace.  They break up a human trafficking ring.  They support Kor-tac in a mission.

Another leave.  You’re healed now, but when Gaz asks where you’re going, you shrug and say nowhere.

“I didn’t plan anything,” you admit, and Price watches you on the sly.  You explain that New York City was next on your list of places, but you are tired of cities, tired of the crush of people and always wondering where the next threat was.  You tell Gaz, as Price eavesdrops, that you really just wanted a quiet month in the country but hadn’t the time to research anywhere or book anything—

He has to wait for Gaz to leave, which gives him a moment to despair that it’s a bad idea.  It’s a terrible idea, the worst idea, but even with a moment to stop himself, Price can’t stop himself.  He pulls you aside once you’re alone and the words tumble out of his mouth before he can stop them.

“I have a place in the Lake District,” he says.  “Quiet, in Rosgill.  I’m going myself, but it’s a big place for just me.  Too big, really.  You could join, if you want.”

It’s a terrible idea, the worst idea, but it must mean something that you only think on it for a beat before you smile at him and accept his offer with your genuine thanks.

-----

On the trip to his home, he explains it to you, and he hates how he sounds like an estate agent selling you on the charms of the place.

“It’s an old seventeenth century blacksmith forge that’s been converted into a home.  Quiet.  One side overlooks the eastern fells.” 

He explains how he bought it when he was young with the windfall of his father’s modest estate when the old man died from a heart attack. 

He doesn’t explain that it had been his dream as a young man to share it with someone, and as that dream had steadily died off, so too has the planned renovations.  The place is half-restored—mostly the house proper—but his plans for the outbuildings and grounds have been abandoned.  He had planned a copse of trees, a raised garden bed for vegetables and herbs, a small greenhouse.  What was the point of sinking money into a place that never saw any use?

You laugh quietly, then say that you don’t even have a home, that you have a small storage unit in Reading for the handful of things you can’t bear to give up.

“I appreciate your hospitality, Captain,” you say.

He tuts, reminds you to call him by his first name.  “There’s no Captain Price in Rosgill.  Just John.”

-----

It takes less than a week to fall into a comfortable domestic rhythm with you.  John wonders at it:  he had a girlfriend in his late twenties who had moved in for a year, and the two of them never reached even a fraction of the ease you and he reach within days.

It doesn’t mean it’s not torture.  The house has two bathrooms and a WC, but you end up sharing a bathroom because it’s the only one on the second floor, situated between both of your bedrooms.  It’s torture to shower after you, when everything is damp and faintly scented with your soap.  It’s torture to see your toiletry bag sitting on the edge of the sink, and of course he snoops.  Takes in the tube of lip balm, your brand of toothpaste, a bottle of paracetamol.  He sees a little ornate glass bottle of perfume, and he uncaps it, smells it.  It makes him remember the conversation on the plane, your rant about your disappointing experiences with sex, all the effort you put in to look nice and smell nice.

Which makes the rest torture too.  You calling him John.  You stretched out on a chaise in the conservatory that overlooks the fells.  You making him a simple, hearty dinner—who knew you could cook?—then calling him to table, your name in his mouth, your hands passing him a plate with chicken and roasted vegetables, your smile as he pours you another glass of wine.  You passing him in the hallway at night in your sleepwear, the soft-looking pajama pants and oversized t-shirt that strains around your breasts.  You meeting his eye, smiling at him, saying “g’night, John.”

Then the torture of your bedroom door clicking shut behind you, with John on the other side of it.

-----

It’s the meteor shower that changes it.  The Perseids, and John’s home has a big conservatory with a wall of windows that overlooks the night sky.  He mentions them to you that morning, suggests it might be nice to stay up and watch them together, maybe open a bottle of Lagavulin to mark the occasion.

It’s also Soap that changes it.  You and John make dinner together—just a spag bol—and your phone chimes as you’re sitting to eat.  You swipe at the lock screen, read the message, and snort.

“Soap,” you say, and you hold up the screen to John even though he can’t read the tiny print.  “Says he had a cancellation with one of his standby ladies and can work me into his rotation if I can get to Inverness in an hour.”

John chuckles, shakes his head.  “Want me to put him on KP duty when we get back?”

“A few extra laps on his runs wouldn’t hurt.  Wearing full kit, for the weight.”

The thread of conversation could die off, but it’s an opening, and John takes it.  He clears his throat, spins a forkful of spaghetti on his plate, then offers, “I’m sorry you’ve had such a rough go of it.  Romantically, I mean.”

You shrug.  “It’s fine.”

“For what it’s worth, I’ve not had the easiest time of it lately.”

It earns him another snort, and you cock an eyebrow at him, pull an incredulous face.  “I don’t buy it.”

He’s not lying.  His twenties, he was a wolf on the prowl.  Broke plenty of hearts, had his own broken in turn.  He had a few girlfriends, one who moved in for a bit, then moved out after a terrific row, never to return.  He always had the fixed idea that he’d meet someone by his mid-thirties, take an early retirement by his mid-forties, and have a family waiting for him by then. 

But as his mid-thirties receded, he found the prospect of dating a bleak affair.  Some women were too young, too immature.  The generational differences in sex and love were too steep to overcome.  Some wanted a sugar daddy.  Some wanted to be taken care of with no care extending back in his direction.  Other women were older, closer to his age, but saddled with ex-husbands, children bitter from divorce, a cynicism that John couldn’t overcome.

He doesn’t tell you any of that.  Instead, he volleys it back at you, retorts with a gentle smile that he doesn’t buy that you hadn’t had a single satisfying experience in your life. 

You sigh, shrug again.  “Ah, well.  I guess I can’t blame the men entirely.  Who’s to say I wasn’t the problem?  Maybe I’m a terrible kisser.”

“Doubtful.”

“Just outrageous amounts of tongue.”

John laughs, and you grin at him, add, “garlic breath, too.  Got too bitey halfway through a make-out session.  Made the guy bleed.  Now he has a scar on his lip and he tells all the blokes down at the pub about the crazy girl he took out once who bit him.”

John puts down his fork and takes a drink of wine.  He smiles around the rim of his glass.  “None of that can be true.”

“Didn’t know how to move during sex, so I elbowed him hard and broke his nose.  Touched him in a weird spot in an attempt to be sexy and creeped him out.”

He laughs again.  “What’s considered a weird spot?”

“Maybe I, I dunno…rubbed his elbows in a seductive way.  Touched him between his toes in the hopes of turning him on.  Maybe no one ever told me that that there’s no erogenous zone in the space between toes.”

His laughter grows at the mental image you’re painting; tears creep out of the corners of his eyes.  “That’s how I know you’re lying,” he manages to reply.  “Because most men would find any type of touch from a woman sexy.”

You cock an eyebrow at that and take a sip of your own wine.  “Duly noted, John.  If I ever make a move on you, I’m coming for your toes.”

“Prepare to be awestruck then, sweetness:  I have feet like a fucking hobbit.”

Your first response is to laugh at him, but he notes the way you take in the pet name, the little shine you get in your eyes.  The conversation dies off, shifts to other topics, but the rest of dinner holds a charge in the air, and both of you can feel it.

-----

After you share clean-up duties in the kitchen, you make your way to the conservatory.  It’s just a fancy word for ‘living room,’ but it holds no television:  just a bookcase, a fireplace, and a few chaise lounges and couches for taking in the view.  John used to envision lazy weekends in here with a family:  a wife and kids, maybe, settled around a board game.  A dog curled up by the fire. 

He also used to envision something like this:  sharing an intimate moment with a woman here.  His ex hated the house, hated how remote it was.  She liked London and the bustle of cities, but you are a better fit.  You settle on the chaise, curl up on your side like a cat, and you sip at the cut-glass tumbler of whiskey when he hands it to you.  John settles on the floor right near you, and the two of you chat while you wait for the meteor shower to start.

You don’t talk about much of consequence.  It’s a rambling conversation, tinged by the alcohol but not impaired by it.  The evening holds a dreamy quality, like it’s not quite real, like if John raises his voice above a low rumble he might pop the ambiance like a soap bubble.

When the first streak of white shoots across the sky, you both fall silent.  John turns away from you and faces the windows, and you both watch quietly.  Once in a while you sigh, a pleased little exhale, and the spell deepens.  Weaves of magic seem to tighten around the two of you with each brilliant falling star.

John leans his head back and rests it against the chaise, but he bumps into some part of you.  He mutters a sorry, and you whisper back no worries, but a beat later he feels your hand on the top of his head.  Tentative.  Shy.  A question in the touch, and he answers it by leaning into you more.  You push your fingers into his hair, and he honest-to-god has to bite his fucking tongue at the moan that threatens to tear out of his throat at the feeling of you touching him.

He turns his head and finds you watching him, not the meteor shower.  He knows he cannot go a single step further without putting it all out in the open, addressing it immediately.

“You know I’m your commanding officer,” he says softly.  “Not here, but when we get back. And I’m not stupid.  I know some part of you still thinks of me as your captain even here, just like some part of me still thinks of you as my charge.”

You nod.  Say nothing.  Look at him expectantly.

“What I mean is, this leave will end and we’ll have to go back.  We have to be able to compartmentalize it.  And I need to know that you want this completely free and clear.  That there’s no part of you that feels you have to do this, because I know there’s a power imbalance, but…”  He trails off, doesn’t want to admit it out loud.

“But what, John?” you prod, and he takes a breath, finally says it.

“I know there’s a power imbalance here, and I know I should be strong enough��should be your captain, I mean—and stop this before it starts.  But I can’t.  I don’t want to.”

You don’t laugh at him, and you don’t pout at his words.  You nod seriously.  You say you understand, that it’s complicated.  You promise that you will try to compartmentalize it.

“It’s just me and you right now,” you say, softly.  “Just two people.  Not boss and employee or captain and soldier.  I don’t feel pressured or feel any power imbalance.  And John?  I don’t want you to stop it before it starts.  Truly.”

This must be what falling from grace feels like.  Some small part of John despairs at this breach of trust, even if you assure him it isn’t so:  he’s your captain, he’s worked so hard to always keep clear lines between him and his soldiers.  He needs to be able to send people he cares about, people he loves, into situations where death is more likely than staying alive.  He needs to be able to leaf through your dossier and not blink at the section where you’ve listed out your final wishes in the event of death.  He needs to be able to leave you behind if it threatens the mission or the 141, and he’s always been able to do that before but the moment you lean forward and kiss him—your hand cupping the curve of his face, drawing him to you eagerly—he knows he’ll never be able to do any of that again.

He's failed as a commander, and a small part of him despairs, but the larger part rejoices at the feeling of your lips on his, your hands on him.  His eyes shut, and you both completely forget the meteor shower as you fall from grace together.

-----

You make out in stages:  the eagerness cedes to a near-shyness, then melts into a level of comfort as you get used to each other.  John knows now that you oversold your inability to kiss—you’re eager, then you’re shy, but you’re pretty damned good at it after all, and if those other assholes you’ve slept with didn’t think so, then that’s on them. 

He eventually makes his way up to the chaise to sit beside you, and then he guides you into his lap.  He has you straddle him, and when his palm gently grasps your cheek to lead you back to kiss him, he feels how flushed you are under his hand. 

“You okay?”

You nod against his hold.  “Yes,” you reply, but you perch yourself back in his lap, closer to his knees, and he can feel how you’re holding your weight off of him.

“We can take this slow.  There’s no rush.  We can stop here.”

“I know.”  A beat, and you add, “I’m good, John, really.”

“Then c’mere, love.  Settle in.”

When you don’t move, he puts his hands on your hips and draws you down and in, pulls the delicious weight of you right where he wants you most.  Right on top of him.  His growing erection presses against your clothed core, and your breasts brush against his chest.  He slides one hand around to your ass and grips the swell of you, kneads at your flesh, but the other hand slides up to cup the nape of your neck.  To hold you steady as he kisses you more forcefully.

John tries to strike the perfect balance between gentle and still leading you.  He presses his tongue against the seam of your mouth, urges you to open yourself to him, and you obey.  He licks against your mouth, tastes the smoky peat of the whiskey on you, and the sensation of his tongue against yours makes you rock in his lap.  He feels the pressure of you brushing against his cock, and it draws dual moans from each of you.

He breaks the kiss, catches his breath.  “Sweetness, what do you want?  What do you like?”  He wants to make you moan like that again and again, wants you to breathe out his name  or scream it or both.  He wants your eyes to shine up at him like they did at dinner when he used that sweet nickname on you the first time. 

You shake your head.  “I don’t know.”

He knows what it must take for you to admit that.  He remembers your rant on the plane, the disappointment in your past dealings with lovers.  It makes his chest ache at how lonely you must have been, how separate you must have felt from others.

He loosens his hold on your neck.  He slides his palm around to cup your face, and he brushes his thumb over the curve of your cheek. 

“Then how about we find out together?”

You answer him by turning your head into his palm and kissing him there, a sweet gesture, and that ache in his chest blooms stronger.

-----

It’s awkward at first, and John can’t figure out why.

He manages to get you out of your shirt and shorts, manages to unhook your bra and strip himself until you’re both nearly naked and stretched out together over the chaise.  You let him lead, but you aren’t exactly eager.  You are passive to an almost uncomfortable degree, and there’s something off—

“Is this okay?” he murmurs against your skin.  You’re so warm under his lips, soft, and he is going so slowly, but you’re hardly moving and you’re saying even less.  Your earlier touches—your hand in his hair, cupping his face—have disappeared entirely. 

Yet when he asks his question, you whisper back that it’s wonderful.

It takes another moment before he realizes part of what’s wrong:  you’re holding your breath.  You’re barely breathing, and once he locks in on that, everything else falls into place.  You’re not precisely rigid underneath him, but you’re tense, your muscles taut to the point of trembling.  And your hands lie by your side.  Not touching him at all.

He pauses, then makes his way back up to where your face is.  In the faint light from the windows, he can make out a tension in your expression too.  Something else too.  Not dread, maybe, but maybe a lighter version of that.  Trepidation. 

John kisses you lightly on your mouth.  “How are you doing, sweetness?” 

“Good.”  You smile at him, but it doesn’t reach your eyes.  “Great, really.”

“You sure?”

You nod.

He brushes his lips over your cheekbone, to the edge of your jaw near your ear.  “Not nervous at all?”

“Maybe a little.”

You’re hedging.  Lightly lying to him.  Your nervousness fills the room like the incoming tide, and John susses it out gently, teases it from you bit by bit.  It’s not difficult to guess the source of your nerves.

“Thinking about past encounters, maybe?”

You huff softly near his ear.  “Hard not to.”  You hesitate, then add, “it was always so bad.”

“And you think you were the reason it was so bad?”

Another huff, and your voice is tinged with embarrassment.  “I’m the constant factor each time, John.”

It occurs to him that you’ve likely missed all of the experimenting that many people get when they are younger.  All the goofy, awkward moments in sex, when a person figures out what they like or don’t like, what they love and what they hate.  You’ve probably been left with a handful of one night stands where you got no feedback, never had a chance to understand what felt good to you, and now are paralyzed to the point of doing nothing. 

John resets the moment.  He strokes the side of your face, then leans down and kisses you.  Slow, gentle.  No rushing.  The barest brush of his tongue against yours, just enough until he feels you relax a bit underneath him.

As much as he wants to compartmentalize it, John knows from working with you that you’re eager for feedback.  You’re eager to learn, and you never take constructive criticism badly. 

“Let me help you,” he says now.  “Okay?”

You gaze up at him, and if your body is tense as a strung wire, your eyes are full of trust.  “Okay.”

“First thing, sweetness.  You have to breathe for me.  You’re holding your breath, and it’s making you tense.”

Sure enough, your tight, shallow breathing evens out and deepens.  And sure enough, he feels your body relax a bit more.  He kisses you as a reward, then gives you more advice that you take readily.

“You can move your body.  Make yourself comfortable.”

“I want to feel your hands on me.  I want you to touch me too.  I’m yours.”

“You need to talk to me.  Tell me what feels good.  Tell me if anything doesn’t feel good.”

As he instructs you, he eases back into it.  Kisses your mouth, kisses his way over your face and neck, spends long moments at your bared breasts.  It’s the first test, but you breathe as he mouths at your tender skin, as he suckles against your hardened peaks.  And you move underneath him, arching your chest to give him better access.

A beat later, he feels your hands—still tentative, but warm, soft—touching him.  Stroking his shoulders, his arms.  Running your fingertips through his hair.

He’ll find out later, days later, that you had only been working off of previous feedback from those terrible one night stands.  The guy who told you that you were breathing too loudly, the guy who told you to lie still.  One baffling guy who told you not to touch him, to keep your hands to yourself as he fucked you.

But now?  This is a good start to finally getting to what you like.  To finding out together.

What you don’t like:  anything remotely like tickling.  He skates his fingertips too lightly over your sides, down the curve of your waist, and you jerk away from him like you’ve been burned.  You apologize a second later, but John laughs, which makes you laugh too.  It dispels some more of your nervousness, and when he tries the move against with more pressure—down your sides, over your waist—you like that far better.

You also don’t like it when he pauses at the scar on your hip.  It’s still a lurid red, and it pulls him up short for a moment.  Dampens his own mood.  It reminds him at how close you were to really being hurt, even killed.  You don’t like it when he bends his head to kiss the ridge of scar tissue, and he doesn’t push it.  Instead, he shifts his head and kisses your stomach where the edge of your panties is, and you like that a whole lot more.

What you like:  everything else.  Every other thing he gives you, everything he does to you.  You like it when he eases your panties off you.  You groan when he buries his face between your thighs, and you gasp when he kisses you there, when he drags his tongue over the slick seam of your cunt.  You like it very much when he laps at your arousal, when he lays plush kisses to your swollen clit, when he slides a finger inside you and a second finger and when he slides them along your inner wall until he finds the spot that makes you jerk underneath him, whine out his name, reach down and tug at his hair.

You like it when he makes you come with his mouth, and you like it when he makes his way back up your trembling body, when he spreads your legs wider to fit him.  When he pushes into you in a slow, steady thrust, so soon after your orgasm that he feels the tiny aftershocks as he seats himself inside you for the first time.  You gasp at the sensation, you breathe out a “god, John,” but when he opens his mouth to ask if you’re okay, you grab his head and kiss him so hard you steal his breath from him.

And you especially like it when he coaxes another orgasm from you, his thrusts strong and steady, deep.  When you bend one leg alongside him, he reaches down and hikes it higher over his hip.  It allows him to push deeper inside you, that extra fraction making you cock-dumb, because you’re so far gone you forget to be nervous.  You forget to lie still, to keep your hands to yourself, to hold your breath. 

You arch up and meet him thrust for thrust.  You wrap one arm around his broad shoulders but the other hand reaches down and grips the meat of his ass, urges him on.  You breathe; you pant in his ear, and sometimes it’s just your hot breath, but just as often it’s you talking, babbling, begging him to fuck you, to please don’t stop, to keep going, to never stop fucking you.

And you like it when he does as you say.  He doesn’t stop, and you come again, but then you whine out that it’s too much.  It probably is:  you’ve gone from disappointing interludes with absolute bell-ends, and now you’re an overstimulated mess underneath him.  You’re not openly crying but tears leak out of the corners of your eyes and streak down your face.  Your lips are slightly chapped and swollen, and you look stunned. 

“Want me to stop?” he asks.  He kisses one damp cheek, then the other, and he can taste the salt from your tears.  “Too much?”

“Uh-huh.”  It comes out slurred.

“Need you to use your words, sweetness.”

“I don’t think…”  You blink, and you lose a bit of your stunned quality.  “I don’t think I can again.”

“Oh, I think you could.”  Another kiss, this one open-mouthed on your pulse point.  He presses his teeth there, sucks lightly against your skin.  “I think you have one more.”

“John—”

“Gotta make up for lost time.”

“I can’t.”  You whine, but it ends in a moan as he bites you harder at where your shoulder meets your neck.  “Too much.  It’s too much.”

“You’re doing so well, though.  You don’t have one more?  Not even for me?”  He laves the flat of his tongue over where his teeth have left dimpled marks, then he blows over the wet line, makes you shudder underneath him. 

“John,” you reply, but it holds less of a warning than before.  There’s surrender in your tone.

“Love feeling this sweet pussy coming around me,” he growls in your ear.  “Fucking soaking my cock, sweetness.”

The dirty talk makes you clench down on him, and he smiles to himself.  He draws back, sinks back into you.  He goes slow, and you whine that it’s too much, but you like this too because you hold him tighter.  You press back against him each time he seats himself in you, his hips settled against yours.  He goes slow, so slow, sinks into you as deep as he can, barely pulls out before he’s pushing back inside.  You’re swollen, fevered where he’s joined to you.  You’re so fucking wet that he feels your arousal soaking the coarse hair at the base of him, dripping down your thighs, likely soaking the chaise. 

He's proud that he’s been able to forestall his own pleasure, but his restraint has frayed.  How could it not?  The whole moment had been sold as for you, to make you feel good, to make sex not the scary specter it has been for most of your adult life, but John can’t remember the last time he had sex where he felt so connected to his partner. 

Maybe he never has.  He can’t conjure up a moment from his past when he felt so flayed alive, his heart visible and beating as he joined with another person.  He can’t remember ever reveling so deeply in his partner’s pleasure.  He can’t remember anyone else’s touch or voice in his ear or breath panting underneath him making him feel so whole.

But you like it when he finally comes too.  He pulls another orgasm from you, less intense but longer—you tremble for longer, and your cunt twitches against him—and it sets him over the edge.  He groans in your ear that he’s close too, asks where he should…but your hand on his ass pulls him deeper into you, and if the gesture wasn’t clear, you whisper that you want him to come inside you, you want to feel him, and he does.  His pleasure breaks around him, shatters him, and he growls your name as he fills you, and you answer by whispering his name back, over and over.

-----

If you never had a satisfying sexual experience before, John can guess that you never had the post-sex moments either.  The come-down, the cuddling, the falling asleep together.

He gives that to you now too, but it’s not altruistic at all:  he wants it too.  He selfishly wants it.  He leaves you on the chaise to get a washcloth, a glass of water, and he helps you clean up.  He helps you recover, but then he leads you to the deep couch on the other side of the room and has you lie down.  He lies down beside you—it’s a tight fit, but he holds you safe between the broad planes of his body and the back of the couch, and he covers you both with a light blanket.

“Thank you,” you tell him, and it’s plaintive.  It makes that ache in his chest flare back, so he kisses you gently, replies, “don’t ever thank for me this.”

It doesn’t take long for you both to fall asleep:  you go first, the slack weight of you pleasant against his body, the deep and even breathing, the little grumble as you shift.  He’s not far behind you, but he has a moment or two where the earlier thread of despair pushes to the forefront of his mind. 

He might just be John right now, and you’re just you, but soon enough you’ll be soldier and captain again.  How will it ever work, now that you’ve fallen from grace together?

[twst-kumi]

Weeping Maiden [ACT I] CHAPTER 11

[Act I] CHAPTER 11

[Name] woke up in her room in Royal Dawn Dormitory. Flora was dozing off on the armchair by her bed. The fairy’s eyes looked puffy from crying. Flora woke up startled by the young girl snorting. The old woman looked at her for a minute before bawling. She was so loud that she could hear running in the mini castle. 

Ambrose barged in the room holding his robe up. He looked disheveled while panting. His eyes darted everywhere before he saw [Name] smiling awkwardly. It was his turn to cry.

“_Oh my sweet child! I was so worried.”

Alerted by the commotion, the other came to see what was happening. Aurelius also teared up as he saw the young girl. She was alive and well. 

“_ Don't scare us like that ever again. 

_ Yes, I'm sorry. I swear I didn't mean to worry.

_ It's not about you worrying us, my dear child. It was dangerous. You could have died.” 

The director said glaring at her worriedly. He wanted to protect her. Not only was she his most delicate student, but she was first and foremost his daughter blood related or not. [Name]’s heart fluttered in front of his sincere eyes.

“_ It's a parent's job to take care and worry about their child. And a father's job to protect their daughter.”

The young girl couldn't say anything. Her heart felt heavy with unknown emotions. She didn't know how to react to it, but it felt good somehow. Like she was waiting for such words, she couldn't stop her tears trailing down her cheek. The old man held her in her arms and [Name] broke down wailing like a little kid. She couldn't help but cry as he hugged her tightly. It was warm. Ambrose’s embrace felt so warm around her. 

A few minutes after, her eyes were puffy and red gaining her some teasing laugh from Vil and the rest. 

“_You look like a baby chick who hatched with your eyes like that.

_Nooo, baby chick are ugly when they hatch.”

[Name] whined still sniffing here and there. The group laughed relieved everyone was alright. They got out with only a few scratch and bruise nothing to heavy. The most worrying peoples were Neige and her who were unconscious for two days. Neige woke up yesterday.

“_About Neige…” 

[Name] started to explain what she saw in his memories as they listened calmly. There was a silence for a moment until Alexis talked.

“_Like I give a fuck! He drugged you! Don't expect me to go easy on him because of his sob story.” 

Aurelius winced at his colorful language but agreed with him nonetheless. [Name] smiled gently at them.

“_ I'm not asking you to forgive him. I'm just stating the core reason for Neige's Overblot. Neige is incapable of valuing himself for what he is. For him, his worth can only be equated to his usefulness.” 

She understood this feeling better than anyone. As a former child actor and having grown up in a toxic family, she understood what Neige had gone through. Unlike her, Neige was probably not aware of his own abuse. 

“_ I see… Well, you may want to know. I decided to exclude Neige for a week.

_ Only a week? Don't tell me you are planning to let him go scoff free!”

[Name] looked at Vil who frowned at Ambrose’s words. She wanted to comments on how Crowley is letting every Overblotted students off the hook without any repercussions. Aside from Leona who almost got disqualified for Magicshift. The RSA director only laughed.

“_ Of course not. But I think that everyone can get a second chance, if they do show determination and sincerity. The same could be said for you. When I call for you as a primary suspect, I wanted to give you a chance to defend yourself. And if you were the culprit, a chance to redeem yourself.”

Vil couldn’t say if he was unconfortable or just jealous. The director knew Neige longer than him, so it was normal to trust him more than the actor. On the opposite, Crowley didn’t hesitate to send Vil the moment the school reputation was brought up. It left a bitter taste in his mouth.

Thanks to Ambrose, Vil was able to return to school. He covered it as a flu, he and [Name] caught that. The young girl coming from a different and closeted “land”, her immunity system was a bit weaker than them. It was the excuse they gave everyone to explain their absences. 

“_Where is Neige? I would like to talk to him before he leave.”

There was another silence. 

“_Hey! You heard her? So, are you going to hide behind that wall longer?”

Alexis growled looking toward the open door. They could see a shoulder flinching but no other mouvement. Seeing that he wasn’t going to move, the gentle-looking boy felt even more pissed.

“_ COME IN!!! YOU PIECE OF S…. syrup! I was going to say syrup.”

Everyone looked at him unconvinced and Aurelius couldn’t help but stifle a chuckle. He was going to be in trouble if he continued to swear like a sailor. Vil on other side was wondering if it was a normal for small and delicate looking boys to have a foul mouth. This was the second one after Epel. That being said hearing Neige getting insulted didn’t felt bad. He will acknowledge that Neige’s situation was sad, but it didnt mean he would like him. If anything, he had even more resentment toward him. 

Neige walked inside, his eyes darted to the floor unable to confront their stare. Taking on the cue, Ambrose made everyone leave. Aurelius and Alexis couldn’t help but glare at Neige. 

“_Scream if he try to do anything suspicious. 

_ Yeah, we will beat him for you if he try anything so don’t worry.”

Aurelius and Alexis said while burning hole with their glare on Neige. Vil felt refreshed in a way. Look like RSA too could be a little violent. 

Alone, Neige and [Name] looked at each other for moment. The boy looked devastated, remorse was obvious on his face. 

“_ I’m sorry… I… 

_ I never liked you more than a friend, Neige.”

Neige flinched a little. He could feel a lump forming in his throat. He looked at her before smiling at her. He tried to push back on his need to cry. He was  aware, she didn’t share his feeling.He was going to use this week to reflect on it. Deep down he felt like he didn’t have any right on loving her or coveting her affection.

“_ I know… I’m quite aware of it now. I just want to say it at least once. I love you, [Name].”

[Name] was speechless for a moment. His eyes shined with a resolve she never saw in him before. Something changed in him, he looked a little bit more like a man rather than a delicate boy. Both exchanged a small laugh before Neige stood up to leave. She rejected his confession but at least she acknowledged it. 

Neige was walking down the stair under the two freshmen’s glare. It was understandable for them to hate him. Remembering something, he stopped in his tracks and looked at them. 

“_Please, take care of her.

_We don’t need you to tell us that. 

_Just leave already!”

Neige chuckled a little looking at the two. What a duo of  brave little knight they were. 

“_Right, before I forgot. Don’t trust Henry that much.”

Aurelius frowned a little. What does his dormleader have to do with all this? The young man felt his stomach churn. Pushing his worry aside, he walked back inside the bedroom once he was sure Neige left the dorm. 

Act I: Poison of Delusion. (END)

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Tag

@cocomollo @owodi @illytian

[jasonsknight3]

Welp, it’s time, the new story has officially begun. This story takes place in Arkham knight. The Halloween that ruined so many lives and brought o the worst of the worst. However, what part do you play in it? How do you fit into the story? Well, fear not because I have to e answer.

Side note: this story is planed to literally take place during the time of the Arkham game and comic book. I will keep it as accurate as possible however, I will be taking and changing some things because I’m adding you in it. It will largely stay the same though. Enjoy!

The longest night

Chapter one

“Memory lane”

Jason. The closest thing to love you felt. Being with him felt good. Even though you were only 15, you felt that you could marry the guy. A match made in heaven. He was your voice when you couldn’t speak up, you were his reason when he had none. The emotional connection between you two was undeniable. Jason was also Robin, a hero, a boy with a heart of gold. Maybe that’s why you felt for him. Despite his rough upbringing and living on his own from 13-15 with his troubles his heart had golden roots.

Shrugging on your jacket, you left your apartment to buy a week's worth of groceries like you usually do every Monday. The fall air was a little nippy but not too bad. The only downside was there wasn’t much foliage in gothams cores so, no colorful leaves to be found unless you went outside the city. The walk to the store is a good fifteen minute walk, your family only had one car to share between the parents and you hadn’t paid your monthly bus pass card yet so, that’s not an option either. However, a nice long walk was just the medicine to clear the chaos at home from your mind. Your family wasn’t bad, not at all. You loved your mom and dad and they you. It’s just that money is extremely tight. Sometimes parents argue. Say things. That’s just how it is.

Whistling a tune the sound of an engine slowing down a little too close for comfort made you pause and turn your eyes to whoever was deciding to cause trouble. All of the unsure feeling melted away the moment you laid eyes on a familiar face. “Well if it isn’t trouble chaser Todd.” You comment with a wide grin. “You flatter me, such high praise (y/n)” he replied, sliding off his bike helmet and setting it down to rest between his legs on his bike with a lopsided grin. “So, where’s a girl like you heading on this…fine evening?” He asked, mimicking a British accent. “I happen to be going to the market on this chilled eve.” You respond in the same manner. “Would thou like an escort fair maiden?” Laughing, you drop the accent. “This fair maiden would love a ride.” Jason held out the biker helmet to you “your chariot awaits.” The helmet was a little big but still would do its job. Jason was special, Everyone would know that if they just took a closer look. He was smart, loved literature, funny, and kind. The ride was nice, clinging to Jason, your head resting against his back as the wind blew your jacket behind you. Since Jason showed up tonight, everything felt like a moment to remember, a moment to think about when you felt low. A core memory. Pulling into the parking lot, he shut off the engine and kicked the motorcycle's kick stand before helping you dismantle the bike.

Walking inside “Got the list?” Jason asked, pulling his hand out of his pocket to take it. “Yea, I got it.” Handing him the list his eyes read over the scratchy writing. “This is the same list from last Monday.” Jason stated his eye locking with yours. “Well, it's cheap and still keeps us fed. Besides, even with all three of us working, my mom, dad and I make only enough to get by.” Looking over the list again he smiled. “I think I can spice up your food selection a little.” You open your mouth to protest but he beats you to the punch. “And before you say “oh you don’t have to do that” I know. I can and want to.” The smile and warmth you felt in your heart was involuntary. Throwing an arm around your shoulder he said “Come on, let’s go get some good stuff.”

As you went through the isles you guys talked about your week so far. His was the usual excitement, fighting crime, school, all the things. Yours was the same as usual as well, school, work, a few screaming fights between the parents about money. Jason enjoyed giving you small gifts and little things here and there for you. Jason selected some produce, fruits, healthy and unhealthy foods. After checking out a d bagging the items it was time for the awkward ride home. It was a small struggle, you held on to a few plastic bags, some evenly divided on the handle of the bike. You had to stop only once to pick up the bags you dropped. Honestly, you were impressed with how well you both did hanging on after the one incident. When you guys got to your home, Jason helped you and your mom unpack the groceries and put them away. Your mom liked Jason but your dad was a little skeptical, as expected. Jason’s kindness earned a homemade dinner and a movie with you, your mother, and himself.

A fond day to cling to now

The sounds of laughter and cocky attitudes echoed in the batcave. “Remember (y/n) keep your hands up to protect your face and or swing, elbows low and in to protect damage to your ribs. Keep light on your feet so you can move quickly. Also-“ cutting him off you lunge at him tackling him to the mat on the floor. Jason cried out in surprise. “Oh shi-“ Alfred cut him off “language Master Todd.” Jason looked up at Alfred. “Sorry Alfred.” Alfred nodded and turned his attention back to nightwing and tending to his physical ailments from the night’s festivities. Jason turned back to you. “Now that wasn’t very fair of you.” Giving a triumphant smile you retort “Aren’t you supposed to be ready for anything?” Pursing his lips he thought about it. “Yea, I guess you're right.” In one swift moment he flipped you on your stomach having you I. A choke hold. No to together though, his legs wrapped around yours locking them I. Place. Your hands automatically shoot up to try and pry his hold off. Jason's breath tickled his ear “admit I’m the best.”

You: “you stink.”

Jason: “say I’m the coolest guy you know.”

You: “You're the weirdest guy I’ve ever met.”

Jason: “Admit I’m smart.”

You: “You have the brain of a toddler.”

Jason: “Say you think I'm sexy.”

You: “Look like a wet dog.” You snicker enjoying the banter. “Ugh, if I wanted to watch teenagers get it on I would rather watch a trashy romance movie. You guys are ridiculous.” Dick commenter to which Jason snapped back. “You’re just jealous I’m able to maintain a relationship.” The expression on Dicks face spoke volumes. Jason definitely hit a nerve. “Oh yea?” He inquired. “Yeah.” Jason nodded. Dick got off the seat. “Get up Todd.” Jason let go and whispered in your ear. “Watch this.”

Getting up you decided to stand next to Alfred who protested against dick fighting falling on deaf ears. Alfred realizing that this was happening whether he wanted it to or not he sighed. “I don’t know what to do with those boys.” Sitting back the duel began. Jason was bouncing on the balls of his feet. “Come on chickenwing! Bawk! Bawk!” Jason taunted with a wicked grin. “It’s Nightwing.”Dick corrected seething. The battle of honor began. Jason swung first, his fist connecting with Dicks lower run cage which seemed to just make Dick angrier. Dick swept Jason’s leg knocking him to the floor before pinning him and having Jason in a tight choke hold. “It's not so fun when it's not your girlfriend is it!” Dick said with a smug look. “Screw you!” Jason yelled anger very apparent in his voice as he jabbed his elbow into Dick’s rib again making him let go. With the new found freedom, Jason straddles him and starts pounding on him, punching him where he could. It was honestly a little scary watching from the outside. “Master Todd! Master Grayson! Enough of this childish behavior!” Jason stopped looking up at Alfred with a guilty expression before a fist connected to his chin knocking him off of Dick. Alfred and you intervene, you take Jason while Alfred takes hold of Grayson. “You mother-“ Dick cut Jason off “I will always do better than you, be better than you.” He said venom in his words. “At least I don't dress like I’m going to a fuckimg disco party to fight crime and look like a little bitch.” Jason yelled at him, that caught you so off guard. You had to fight to stifle the laugh. “I designed the suit myself you ass!” Dick retorted. “Yea, I can tell, Dick.” “Boys, enough for the last time! Separate or so, help me I will tell Bruce to keep you both off missions for a Week!” Alfred is clearly fed up.

Both boys went to their rooms to calm down. “You really did a low blow going after the wardrobe.” You started breaking the silence as the both of you sat on the bed. “He’s an ass.” Jason was still very clearly in a mood. You take his hand, “I dot. Have siblings, but I do have a family. Family can be your worst enemy and your best friend. The rough patch will pass.

It’s a terrible thing, just as they were starting to work things out. He was gone.

Harsh words sounded through the off white walls of the apartment. Same old thing, money this, money that, we have to this, we have to that. After a day of work and school, arguing was the absolute last thing you wanted to hear. What better place to go to escape the noise than the fire escape.

There you were, eyes closed, the breeze gently cooling your skin. A wonderful feeling. That’s when another sensation touched your cheek, a warmth, something soft. Opening one eye you see what you knew was there. Jason’s lips left your cheek. “Hey.” He smiled. You wave your hand in front of your face trying to wave away the smell. “Geez you smell, and you're sweaty, wanna shower?” You offer jokingly but with kindness. “That would be amazing. Thanks.” He commented. “Oh, uh don’t be alarmed by the way. They are just arguing. That’s all.” Jason nodded knowingly, “Alright, I’ll keep that in mind.” Following him inside he tossed his duffle bag to the ground and pulled out some clean clothes and stuffed his sweaty red shirt in the duffles bag before disappearing to the bathroom and turning on the shower.

A few minutes later you found yourself reading a magazine. Something about Bruce Wayne and another charity he supported. Seems like a nice guy. Shortly after you thought maybe you’d be nice and wash his clothes. You needed to do your own laundry anyway. It was starting to pile up. Reaching into the back you pull out the shirt with just your pointer finger and thumb and the shorts. That’s when something caught your eye, something bright yellow. Touching the fabric it felt soft. Pulling it out more revealed the rest of the suit, the yellow turned out to be a cape with black on the other side. Under the cape however…was a suit. Not just any red and green suit, the Robin suit. Your mouth practically dropped to the floor. Is Jason Robin? Is this fake? No it could be, the suit is too well made to be a costume. Wait, if Jason is Robin does that mean Bruce knows? Wait…is Bruce Batman? No that can’t be right could it? The sound of the bathroom door opening snagged your attention. There stood Jason with worry in his expression. “YOU’RE ROB-“ Jason tackled you to the bed, his hand cupping your mouth, his face panicking. “Shhhhh, please, just be calm. Relax. I’ll explain everything.” He took a moment to look at you and recompose himself. “If I let you go, will you be quiet?” After you nodded in agreement he let go and got off of you help g you sit up. “Okay, um, I am Robin. I’ve been Robin for a while now. You know, fighting crime and helping Batman.” You listened as he spilled everything. Putting his trust in you. “I need you to keep this to yourself, okay?” Nodding you agree. “I promise.your secret is safe with me. On a lighter note-“ you smile feeling excited “you being Robin explains so much. Would you be willing to…can you put on the suit and show me. I wanna see it up close!” Jason laughed and agreed,

Sometimes you wonder if you didn’t know if Jason suddenly disappearing and never being able to come back would have made it easier.

[hum-aapke-koi-nahi]

A friend of mine called me while I was doing maths today. I picked up his call and he immediately asked me "Are you at home? Free? Wanna go out?". My mom was sitting infront of me and as calmly as possible I replied, "Yes I am. Let's hangout outside, under the krishnachura tree."

Everyone in my family knows Bibhash. But hanging out with him often is not very liked by my parents. Not because he's a bad person to be friends with, but because I need to Study.

Talking with him after ages felt good. It was really nice to listen to him ranting about his Sikkim tour. But the mosquitoes decided otherwise. Constant mosquito disturbance made me already feel like I got dengue. After sometime my mom came out because she was visiting my Grandma and asked us to part ways due to extreme mosquito infestation. Now it was only me, my little bro and my snoring dad at home while my mom went off to Granny's place.

As soon as I went into my room, I called Bibhash and asked him, "What plan did you have of going somewhere earlier?". On hearing this he got excited and said, "Do you wanna ride with me? Anyplace you want? Just say." And I said, "Yes".

Bibhash came back within a minute, waiting infront of my house. I hurriedly climbed behind him on the back seat and off he went. Neither my mom nor my dad and not even my brother knew about this. The feeling of getting caught was constant, but the immaculate feeling of bliss and adventure I got cannot be described. This was one of the wildest thing I ever did in my 16 years of life. As daring it may sound, we decided to be Dora the Explorer for the evening and went through narrow lanes to God knows where. The entire ride my heart rate was high and I feared of getting recognised by someone on the streets. The amount adrenaline rush I got was incredible. Bibhash would occasionally speed up and I constantly chanted into his ears, "Slow down, I don't wanna die today", and held onto him tightly, and he replied, "Baby, calm down, I won't let you die today." After almost 15 minutes which felt like hours, he dropped me back home and no one got a whiff of it.

I was in a lot of shit lately which made me feel terribly down. Today, I smiled and laughed after a long time, made a core memory. The mindless ride with him felt like a breath of fresh air which made my heart flutter.

[vinthetiefling]

Okay.

I’m turning this one into story time with pictures because my day got even better!

I make my way over the hill and stop. Just absolutely gutted. The universe has me—and apparently my favourite artist—by the throat. Is it because I’m a Gemini and she’s a Pisces? It is, isn’t it.

So after PVRIS cancel, I make a joke about getting hit by lightning because trying to see my favourite band apparently triggers some sort of ancient curse. I buy some chips, text angrily for a bit, then get over myself and jump into the fray.

Shit happens, right? It’s fine. I’m fine.

I see my partner’s old favourite Enter Shikari, watch a Harajuku-core rock band named Hanabie and sway at the front of Royal & The Serpent. Still feeling crushed, I get into the spirit of things and catch the pick from their guitarist. It also turns out that being a sad girl in neon colours draws event photographers. I have no idea where my photos will end up, only that they’re out there.

Things are looking up now! I’ve got a pick! I’ve got some churros! There’s even a mobile textline for if you’re feeling unsafe or witness someone being a moron. You’ve got everything you could possibly need for when Fred Durst takes the stage. Just keep on rollin’ baby!

I spend the next few hours reliving 1999 and knuckling my way to the front for Fall Out Boy. I’ve seen them twice at Soundwave and once at their own Qudos Bank Arena headliner. To be honest, there might be another show buried in there somewhere, but when you get to 30 everything blurs together and time feels fake and strange.

Tdlr; I know what I’m in for. And that’s a cracking good time.

The moment arrives. The fireworks are gathered, the ladders are set, the confetti canons are poised. Fall Out Boy come out with Love From The Other Side, The Phoenix, Sugar We’re Going Down and Uma Thurman. We’re at the front bar dancing with the event staff, the bassist of Royal & The Serpent and the guy over my shoulder who keeps screaming YEAHHH!

And then this flashes up on the screens.

People are confused.

There’s mumbling, laughing, scoffing. “We don’t care! We’ll get hit by lightning!” The god damn band is confused. They’re being fed the information into their headsets and say something along the lines of—Oh, it’s temporary! We’ll be able to keep playing once everyone’s safe, right?

Right?

A minute into the next song, they cut it.

Nope! We’ve gotta evacuate. And we’ve gotta evacuate now because the lightning is everywhere and it’s strobing around the field. The site itself is nested in the centre of an entire suburb of fields—a good 25 minute walk from your nearest cover or light rail. Nobody’s laughing. The exodus is weird and swift as up to 20,000 people vacate the show.

It’s a death trap, and I’ve gotta fight my way out after burying myself as deep as possible. I dodge, duck and weave. Some guy stumbles into me and checks if I’m alright. I bounce off someone and check if they’re alright. My inner athletics kid kicks in and I sprint to the rail before the traffic bottlenecks and catches me in the storm.

So that was my Good Things. I made a terrible joke, and it manifested and cut the lights. Thanks for the memories, even if they weren’t so great.

The curse lives on!

[madamescarlette]

I wanted to go through and do an entire written out version of this tag, so here 'tis! Would love to see your responses too if you want to join in <3

(Fair warning that is rather a long post so feel free to hit J on your keyboard to skip to the next thing on your dash with no hard feelings!)

share your favorite memory of this year.

GIRL just ONE?!? I don’t really pick out singular one all-time best memories from across the year, so I’ll give you a chain of really bright good ones instead:

My friends and I went to this conference in the spring that was almost entirely working professionals except for us, so when we first got there it was quite silly because we lowered the median age by a good five years. We got name badges and everything and one of my friends said it felt like summer camp because of that, and after setting up all of our things we escaped to go eat all the free breakfast food, and when I started taking selfies with my muffins everyone else had to do the same, and I felt joy so vivid it was like an ember burning in my stomach.

There was one day this past November where after one of my meetings I was walking my friend over to the bus stop, and we emerged from the campus library for the first time in four hours, and I was trudging along under the slowly changing saplings that line the avenue beside our library and I looked up at the bright blue sky, and remarked on how blue it was. My friend looked up too, and she started fondly laughing, and she told me it was very indicative of my personality that ten minutes before we’d been grousing about class, but I was still noticing how lovely the sky was. It was luminescent and very good to be known so much.

I’ve been struggling with bitterness over a particular situation for the past few years, the kind of bitterness that’s mostly grief because I miss who I was before it all happened to me, and for a long, long while I couldn’t remember what had been so good that I would risk anything, especially my own peace and stillness to be near this person. I hadn’t seen them in a while, but during this poster presentation session that all of my senior class does, I caught a glimpse of them again, and I can’t tell you how…simple and sweet it felt to simply admit that they were beautiful again. It sounds like a funny thing to be grateful for, but when your memory has twisted something into only being painful, it’s an incredibly lovely thing to be able to remember something good about it again. I guess it was kind of like absolving myself from the past, to know there was a reason why I reached out and why I paid the price, that these things don’t necessarily need to be worth it but it was something good that I at least tried. And I will stop being cryptic and leave it there. It was such an answer to my prayers and I will never stop being thankful for it.

Over the summer, there was one day where my grandmother pulled out these GIANT shrimp that she had had hidden away in her freezer, and asked my mom to figure out something to do with them. My mom landed on making gumbo, and it became a quest for the entire household to make this one stew— my grandma kept pulling vegetables from all these hidden corners, my brother and I were sent out to find extra supplies, and afterwards when we all sat down and ate it together, the whole room was suffused in this gentle golden light of early summer evening, happy and content and revived by being near each other and keeping company in this full silence.

2. what was the highlight of your year?

I can’t lie to you and say that it was anything but my graduation! It was five strange twist-y wind-y years, but they are now settling like gems in the core of my being, and I am even now learning how to digest them all and convert them into what they’ve made me become. I’m very grateful, and very glad. It has meant so very much to me.

3. list the top five books you read this year.

In no particular order, just the ones that haunted me most are The Perilous Gard, Assassin’s Apprentice, Vespertine, Gaudy Night, and Magician’s Ward, with extra love to my reread of Goblin Emperor (always my beloved).

4. list the top five movies you watched this year.

Me, laughing nervously: haha don’t worry!! I’ve definitely watch five of those!!! (thankfully I have them written down otherwise I’d be LOST.)

The Batman, Gunpowder Milkshake, The Hundred-Foot Journey, The Thin Man, and let’s be real Sense & Sensibility (1995) which was a rewatch but I think I watched it no less than four times so it deserves a slot here for holding my hand so much.

5. list the top five tv series you binged this year.

THIS IS EVEN HARDER.

Probably…Blue Period (beloved to me), Extraordinary Attorney Woo (EVEN MORE BELOVED), the three seasons straight of The Nanny I watched in dark October/November, Ted Lasso, and most likely Wednesday once I’ve had time to sit with it. Extra shout-outs to the first seasons of Spy X Family and E.R. that I both watched and loved utterly.

6. what is the one new thing you discovered this year (could be a place/hobby/song etc)?

I finally!!! Learned to crochet!!! I’m so happy happy about it especially now that I have a little more time on my hands to actually make something with my hands! It makes me happy every time my eyes land on my hooks sitting on my desk.

7. top three albums that you played this year?

I want to also make a separate post on this (even though it will be useful to like…one person maybe) but: Who Cares? – Rex Orange County, PREP – Prep (yes ik they really had to reach for that one), and obviously Midnights – TS. (Special shout-out to Nurture – Porter Robinson which is holding my hand in this time)

8. your spotify wrapped #1 song

Everything Goes On – Porter Robinson, my dear sweet friend of a song that’s held onto me throughout the wavering and ravening of the horrors this year! It’s all about learning to grieve something before it leaves you but not clouding the happiness of it while it’s still here and I really have needed to hear that so much.

9. your spotify wrapped top artist

Taylor, who else?

10. your personal song of the year.

Tbh it is exactly the same as the one I’ve got, especially since I am usually very aware of the top song that I have because I repeat them so much, and this one helped me so very much. I think I’ll say another one that felt like it reached out and gripped me in its teeth and made me get up again was Thank Me Later – Sigrid.

11. what is an achievement that you are proud of this year?

In all honesty, in the past 24 months I’ve had to do more technical writing than I really knew I was getting in for, but there is something extremely satisfying in being able to drop 5 disparate pieces of work in my grandmother’s lap and go look what I did!!! One of them is 61 pages long oh my!

12. what are your goals for the next year?

I think…not to lose the peace and stillness that this year has given me, also on the flipside not to become too complacent and still be the person who reaches out and accomplishes something. Also as always to become a better daughter and sister and friend and colleague because it is always easy for me to slip in those things if I’m not watching and I want to be watchful.

And I think more than anything else, I want to enjoy this widening horizon before me. I’ve said before that I feel like I’ve been in a long tunnel for a long time, and even though I was always headed towards the end, I made friends with the conductors and other passengers, so getting out of it feels like something strange and mysterious to me. I want to make sure that I make the most of it, go rolling through the fields and lying under the trees and wading in the ponds, and that I always find my way back to gratitude for being alive, because I never want to lose that.

13. any three book releases you are excited for next year.

Bold of you to assume that I pay enough attention to figure out what books are being released when! No but really, a lot of the books I was following were…concluded this year so I don’t have as long of a list anymore.

From looking at a list on Goodreads I was finally able to cherry-pick some, so. I did enjoy Sorcery of Thorns (though my true love in Margaret Rogerson’s books is far outpaced by Vespertine) so I’m excited for The Mysteries of Thorn Manor in January. There also seems to be…an Inheritance Games sequel? For some reason? And by golly I’ll read whatever nonsense plot is going on with those folks if only because I’m rooting for Jameson to go…anywhere else but here. PLUS oh man there’s going to be a new Holly Black set in Elfhame and boy if I won’t read every second of THAT.

14. any three upcoming movies/tv series that you are excited for next year.

SPIDERVERSE SPIDERVERSE SPIDERVERSE plus I have been very charmed by what I’ve seen of the DND movie so far PLUS Dune Part II is on its waaaay if all goes well and you know I love a finale!

15. if you could change one thing about the past year what would it be?

I don’t tend to like talking about changing serious things, because for my life it always feels like I’m being critical of what I have, and I’m trying to always find something to rejoice over what I’m living through! Not that’s bad to regret, it’s just that that’s a very easy way for my own spirit to waste away over and get stuck in a loop of what-if’s. I guess I would have liked to have gone back to my short hair in the summer like I wanted to, because my hair when it gets long always ends up feeling like dead weight to me now.

16. did you manage to stick to your new year's resolutions this year?

I haven’t really been making proper new year’s resolutions that past few years, they’re more like new year’s promises and things I want to carry with me in the new year. In looking for what I had written down, I think I’ll just. post them in full because why not?

Things for the new year:

Be so much of a person that you cannot be anything else.

Make a patchwork quilt of the truths you learn from other people. Know that they will be with you from now on, and be glad, dear heart.

Live with the juxtaposition of being a gatherer and a witness and yourself, your own true self through and through and naught else but that.

(I feel compelled to mention, since the true self is kind of a discoursed concept bandied about around these parts, that me going into last year was like a shelled out half-version of me, so part of my arc was being revived and coming back into myself and feeling like EDEN in all caps again!)

In life, at times you have to hold something that is bigger than you are, bigger than what can be fathomed, and eventually you have to let it go, and the letting go is what makes you into the person you are.

It's good to be good at at least one thing. Even if it's only a multitude of little one things. Like muffins, or remembering stories or dates, or singing one song in particular, or telling jokes. It stifles the heart to believe there is nothing you can do because you can't do it well. Getting started is harder than the doing. When you have the momentum of it, everything gets far, far simpler.

Sometimes, you are not here to tell them what to do. You're here to find people, and to know them, really know them, and sometimes it's worth its weight in gold just to know you live in someone else's brain, and they're glad as anything to know it, so be brave and tell them you care for them.

You shouldn't grieve things while they're still happening. You just end up grieving then twice over. But you can say goodbye, which is different from grieving. It's more like blowing a kiss than it is wrapping your arms around it, and lighter because of that.

To be decisive is sometimes the same thing as being kind.

Never be so funny you lose the muscle ability of being kind. It's an action you have to renew every time, and it can stagnate, as all other muscles do.

17. do you have any new year's resolutions for the next year?

Not really! They’ll be more like the above when I get sentimental enough on the eve, and they don’t like knocking on the door any earlier, alas!

18. favorite meme of the year?

I cannae lie, I’m a simple girl and I thought the PS5 in your mind meme was thee silliest funniest bit ever. Truly like the Palpatine Kermit egging you on to do something but turned up to an eleven and I loved every second of it.

19. which month was the most fun this year?

Ohhhhh probably May because it was like the world was coming back into color and I could finally take a breath for the first time in ten months and I really needed that!!

20. if you could tell yourself something at the beginning of this year based on what you know right now, what would it be?

I cannae lie to you all, I was getting already so tired out already by the beginning of this year and constantly losing my faith in myself, so if I could tell myself anything, it’s simply this: The strength that you look for will very often rise to you when you need it, and so your stewardship of yourself often looks more like making sure that you are rested up enough to be able to find that strength than it is mustering up that strength beforehand. It’s also that you can face things even when they seem insurmountable beforehand, but when there are people around who love you pretty much anything is possible.

21. favorite viral trend of the year?

Well babes I don’t know if I can pick (it’s Dracula Daily) there were so many fun and cute things that we all did together (Dracula memes were my lifeblood) so it’s so hard for me to settle on any favorites (I bought a copy of the book just for this)

22. list any three new things you learned this year (could be recipes, a new skill, etc.)

I made bagels from scratch one time and it was magical! I’m getting better and better at informal presentations and even formal ones! Also it wasn’t purely in this year but I’ve started becoming even better and better at shortbread so now I am lowkey my family’s Shortbread Queen and I’m THRILLED.

23. how would you describe your year in a word?

Hmmmm….bountiful, I think? There was just so much of it everywhere in all directions and I was overwhelmed but so so grateful so often. Also, determining, just in the sense that I think there was a lot that I went through that kind of cast my personality in a mold and made me face things I never thought I could but I actually can and did! Also just— comforting.

I’ve always been an anxious person, and in some ways that will never change, but there’s been something about this year and the last that have made me settle down like I never have before. It feels exciting to me at times, thinking that I’m the oldest I’ve ever been, but at the same time I had the happiest time this year kind of…learning to let the parts of me that didn’t get to live so much in my previous years get to run around and scream and read and sing and laugh and play to their hearts content, and with all of that happening it’s become so comforting to me, just to exist.

I can’t control a lot of things, I can’t really shelter anyone like I used to think I was built to do, but in the end I can figure out how to comfort myself when my melancholia wants me to sit at the edge of the tub and sob my eyes out, and I’m getting better and better at talking myself down from that and when I succeed, I can do a better job at being a comfort to those around me. In a lot of ways, that’s what I’ve come to believe my calling is— to learn how to be a comfort to myself, and through that, being a comfort to those who are near me.

And that's all, folks! Tag me if you want to fill this out, too!!

[m1ckeyb3rry]

Also YESSSS our manifestations pulling through again!! I’m lowk so shocked they’re on the cover I would’ve expected Shidou and Aiku or something but I’m CERTAINLY not complaining….we’re basically guaranteed tabieita crumbs then everyone cheer I can’t wait to get my hands on it

But to reference your replies to Jeirin I saw in passing SHSJSH no YOURE the goat!!! But fear not I will be translating the minute I get my hands on it I’m actually so excited to read it!!!!! I’m still never getting over all the typos I left in the light novels like idk how you got through that I barely understood what I said myself LMAOOO safe to say I WILL be proofreading before sending it in this time

Also if you’re seeing this too Jeirin you’re too sweet AHJJSK ok but fr don’t be shy if either of you ever want something translated just holler I usually end up seeing your posts either in my feed while scrolling or while digging for my own asks LMAOO

Ok but back to our main quest convo

LMAOO Karasu having his team z moment when they were betrayed by kuon except it’s reader /j

SHSHSHS looking forward to the next flashback reunion my eyes definitely aren’t sweating

HAHAHA REAL it’s a core part of who he is wait im laughing zantetsu having his keystone in his glasses but inside of practically like Maxie’s is on the side imagine he chooses a dumbass move and puts it on the nose bridge so he can strike a cool pose pushing his glasses up while he activates the mega evolution process LMAOOOOOOO WAIT otoya zantetsu interaction did happen in epinagi!!!! When karasus team provokes the team saying their faces look weak (i think it might’ve been himizu but Karasu says they might cry first” zantetsu can only think of saying “you wanna square up bro??” As a come back and gets all up in otoyas face (do you remember that one panel where otoyas leaning backwards while zantetsu screams at him because it’s that one LOL) the idiot x idiot chemical reaction always hits too hard Reo and Karasu having to save their asses so real

Imagine Tullia and Karasu treating reader and otoya like noobs LMAOAO I love the idea of reader and otoya progressing together though it’s also funny to think about otoya tweaking over reader getting his dream team in terms of cool vibes

THE BAROUKIN TAG HAS ME GONE NOOOO DONT PULL A BAROU ON US ok anyways this is fr too funny I can’t wait for this arc

I was gonna say I kinda prefer having more megas LMAO just forgot if they ever stayed a canon reason for that restriction but the mega gyarados adds another layer to the ‘scary to everyone else but a puppy dog to reader trope’ and I love it!! Certainly doesn’t need the power buff but the extra aura enhancement would be funny LOL Maybe the keystone thing is like it has to activate/sync with the Pokémon’s specific stone so it can’t do two at once or something? Kinda like it’s still “running/on” while the active pokemon is in mega form maybe but yeah I’m sure you’ll figure something out LMAO

SHSHSH FR like I won’t bash anyone who enjoys it but ME PERSONALLY?? Nuh uh I’ll pass thank you…(also yeah me neither I always get jumpscared by it in the tags HAHA there’s lowk so many floating around though)

LAZYTOWN MENTION SHDBSJDJS WAIT WHY ARE YOU COOKING AGAIN??? This is too funny ego as Robbie rotten too HAHAHA imagine Rin as stingy and is chigiri automatically Stephanie because of the hair LMAOO

Wait also my memory’s blanking again if I don’t have any other ask in your box replying to our other convo lmk I hope that’s not the case because I deleted what I wrote already er

- Karasu anon

BRO i am so glad it wasn’t any of the other more popular characters SKDJFHS tabieita fr cancelling out the itoshis we love that for them my goats fr

AHAH my translation goat i will be relying on you like always!! and trust your translations are better than the ones i see on tik tok so it’s all good

WAIT YEAH i forgot about that KSLJDHF so basically otoya x zantetsu crossover is already established okay that’s perfect LMAOAO PLEASEEE he would have the mega stone right on the bridge of his glasses and reo makes sm fun of it and he’s just like “nah you don’t understand the vision” meanwhile nagi’s like “yukimiya moment??” nobody understands the meme (including himself tbh) he’s just breaking the fourth wall a bit…okay wait but imagine a double battle and it’s reo and karasu vs otoya and zantetsu ykw the insane thing is like otoya and zantetsu might manage to pull it off KSJHSD like if he throws out abomasnow, otoya picks ninetales, karasu uses garchomp, and reo uses maile…ninetales can take care of mawile easily and it has flash fire like houndour/houndoom so it can tank garchomp’s fire attacks while abomasnow uses blizzard or smth since garchomp is 4x weak to ice HAHAHA wait that’s actually lowkey insane i bet karasu and reo go crying to reader/nagi and they have to whip out gyarados and arcanine to deal with things

otoya and reader are so problematic cousins coded HAHA like in a sense tullia and karasu are kind of like the wise older siblings because they’re a lot more experienced whereas otoya and reader are just up to nonsense CONSISTENTLY also wait that’s so true i always think it’s funny how nagi and reader have opposite-vibe teams but at least arcanine and reuniclus are kinda intimidating/goodra is a pseudo legendary so he’s on the same level in that sense meanwhile otoya truly has NOTHING like my man is seething every time she makes a catch

yeahhh i’m sure i’ll be able to figure smth out!! i’m also lowkey considering whether i want other people to be able to mega evolve their pokémon or not becuase reo has gallade and mawile plus karasu has garchomp and pidgeot and otoya has ampharos and i’m sure there’s more characters so i’ll def have to think if i want it to be smth super rare and exclusive to reader and houndoom or not

LAZYTOWN IS SO PERFECT IT JUST CAME TO ME IN A VISION???? ego gives robbie rotten lowkey HEAVY and kunigami is so sportacus it’s insane…help chigiri as stephanie has me crying though LSDKFJH you’re lowkey right though 😭

yes you did send smth dw i think i answered it already!!

[400legends]

In the Company of Hackers (Day 186)

Merrin slid into the chair beside me at Comms. "Lira?" she muttered. "I thought you were still impressing the suits at Belfor."

All the screens still showed the dancing jester. The figure held its belly, laughed, and pointed a finger right at me. "You got hacked! Your ship is mine!"

As of to punctuate the taunt, Malaka banked hard left, and I slid into Merrin. "Excuse me," I said automatically, and before I could reposition myself, Merrin had silenced the hacker's comm access. The ship became blissfully silent.

"Quinn!" The captain's voice growled from one end of the ship to the other. "Get your metal ass in gear and fix this!”

"Merrin and I are on it," I yelled back. To her I said, "Do you think you know the hacker?"

"Nah, no way she'd be at the ass-end of the galaxy still acting like a 17 year old hotshot. But they're good, whoever they are."

"Do we know anything yet?" Requiem was suddenly behind us. "Is it the Veerux?"

"From what I've seen, definitely not their style," said Merrin.

I braced against the console as the ship tilted downward. "EDI? I need HVAC access--"

"Yeah, no," said Merrin. "She's hard down. Are you thinking we can harness the algorithm doing the real-time crunching on the ship's HVAC as the basis for, like, a shield?"

That was better than my plan, but I nodded and reached for the keyboard. As I touched the metal, energy crackled, and I felt like I was suddenly standing backstage at a grand concert hall. Famed composer Misha Mali - famed dead composer Misha Mali - was putting papers into an expandible case and saying, "You see, there are resources that strike a chord. Galactic resources, big and small, all creating the layers of vibrations that make up the galaxy, that make up us."

A voice said, "You're talking about more than music."

He paused with his hands braced on the table. "Yes. My time here has been fruitful, eye opening. To harness the strings that connect us.... Imagine, Trak. Imagine that we could share our consciousness, hear a voice halfway across Nacora as easily as strumming a guitar."

Although I couldn't move or speak, a small thrill ran up my central core as I realized that I'd uncovered one of Trak's memories.

The voice - her voice - said, "That's a little farfetched, don't you think? Besides, every government frowns on talk about networking sentient beings." 

Mali shook his head. "Those connections, they're written in the fabric of universe. No law can change that." He laughed. "It's so simple. And thank you, my friend for helping me get this residency. Without this time and the universities archives, I--"

"Just, just help my friend. Use this crazy theory to--"

"I don’t know much about wireborn, you know that, Trak." 

"Dr. Quant says you are just the person to help her."

***

The ship landed with a thump, and I heard EDI say, "I’m sorry, Captain. It was as if I were in a dark room. I didn’t like that.”

Over the ship's comms we heard someone say, "Sorry. Hello? Please forgive my comrade for their aggressive communication and even more aggressive flying."

Cosmic Peanut said, "Please identify yourself."

"I am Echo. Hello!"

"Who are you with? Lua Tua? KGC?"

"I will explain. Ah, tell me, you have Requiem? She is on your ship?"

"Nope," said Cosmic Peanut.

"Unfortunate. We want to have a friendly conversation," said Echo. "Friendly words about the bad things that happened to Hanadar. We brought you here because we can’t talk outside the planet."

"Ah, you hijacked my ship, but we were already here."

The voice tittered. "So funny! We allowed your Proxy to see our little moon and to see that you were being followed."

"How do you know about Quinn? We--"

Echo said, "We see everything. Esmae, is your head alright? That was a nasty fall. And Requiem, your abomination... so cute. Hide and seeking. So cute. Come on in and we will chit and chat and discuss small things like the future of the galaxy and why everyone wants to kill Requiem."

"Wait a fraking minute" said the captain. "Are you threatening Requiem right now? 

"No! No-no. Protecting. Specter, she is a very big fan. She went to the same college as Requiem. Later class but a big big fan." In a whisper the voice said, "Really in love, too. I’m sorry. Awkward but very much in love. So she pulled the strings to bring Requiem here. And all of you came along. So lovely." 

I heard Merrin comms Cosmic Peanut. "Cap, what's a successful outcome, here?" 

"Hello! We hear everything, Merrin. Successful outcome? Not killed by Veerux. That is a successful outcome."

Malaka's airlock opened. "Come in," said Echo. "We can't wait to meet you. Oh, but Dr. Quinn - so called Doctor Quinn, I can find no record of your medical degree - please to leave the shotgun on the ship. It would be sad, so sad, to bring you all this way only to kill you on our doorstep."

Requiem said, "Were you responsible for…. Something strange happened to me. Like I was somewhere else for a moment....?" 

Echo laughed. "Oh yes, we have a barrier around the outpost to combat that. Otherwise we would be floating on memories all day. Good, bad, forgotten, oft revisited. All the memories."

That explained how I got to experience Trak's memory. And that meant that the others likely had their own memory moments - Requiem certainly had.

I set the shotgun down and followed the others into the outpost. We were greeted by a Maeshari wireborn with tattoos and circuits wrapping around their arms. "Hello! You look just like you did on camera. Captain! Welcome. Esmae." Echo bowed to their fellow Maeshar. "Here's Merrin and oh so unhappy Hex. Hello! Come in, Doctor." Echo clasped their hands. "Requiem. Welcome to our humble home. Would you like some tea? Come meet Specter."

Five desks sat in the middle of a huge room ringed with servers. A young Hanadarian sat at one of the desks surrounded by lights and cameras. She bounced from her seat as we entered, and I saw that she was wearing the same outfit style that Requiem had worn for her Sundry Station concert. She looked down and said, "No no,” and waved her hand. Suddenly she was in the midnight blue gown that Requiem wore at the casino. “What do you think?" 

Requiem smiled. "You HAVE been following me, haven't you?"

Specter hung her head, but the huge smile showed through. "Ah how was your trip?"

"I understand we have you to thank for this adventure."

She nodded. "I'm sorry; I knew you were in trouble. Saw that you were being followed. Surveilled. I was only 99% sure we got the bug, so we had to bring you here."

"I might not be fond of the method, but I appreciate the warning," said Requiem. "I hadn’t heard of danger against me personally." 

"I saw the bug and went digging. There are some disturbing things on your phone. Oh. Sorry. I hacked your phone.”

 Echo laughed and clapped their hands. "We're all friends here! We hack each other all the time. All the time. I know who your 1am appointment is, Specter!" They wagged a finger at the young Hanadarian.

"You know--"

"Phaedra," said Requiem. "What do you know about Phaedra?"

"I.... I think she knew. About the attack, I mean. A handful of reports out there that some people made, um, financial choices ahead of time. Beneficial choices. For sure Phaedra has a contact in KGC - she got a call just minutes before the planet exploded. It was from a number registered to Mordikane Corp."

Three other desks were occupied by a Glabrovian in a mechanic's jumpsuit, a holographic image, and a human with glittering cybernetic eyes. The Glabrau gave me a small wave when she saw me looking, but the other two didn't seem to even know that anyone else was alive.

"I could choose to be really mad about being tricked," I said to Echo. "But, teach me. Please. I put my team in peril. I want to learn how to do what you do."

"Dr Quinn!" Echo grinned. "Very clever. You want not to be a baby in the wide world. Smart. How do you want to learn, eh?"

"Can you teach me?" I said to the Glabrau. She had a friendly feeling, and I wanted to get a better look at the pile of tools on her desk.

"Ah, I-- Sure? What do you want to know, Mrs. Doctor Quinn? Um Doctor." She bowed. "I'm Neon, by the way. Hi."

"I see you are fond of tools." I pulled out my screwdriver gadget. "Me too." I hit the button to cast dancing lights across the face of the closest servers.

"That is so cool! May I?" Neon held out her hand. "This is really neat. Nice lines. I think...." She thumbed open the cover and peered inside. "Yeah. Hang on." With one hand she felt around her desk and came up with a small chip. "I downloaded this from an Ezonite military database. It's like elemental magic code or something. Might increase the spell capacity of your tool." She slotted it in, closed the cover, and handed it back.

I flipped on the display and saw that indeed, the new code had increased the Dark Matter capacity of the onboard battery. "Thank you," I whispered. "Captain! Permission to take Neon to the ship. I want to show her EDI. Maybe we can make some improvements."

Cosmic Peanut led me away from the group. "You trust her?"

"They have been helpful so far. We could have died - I mean, they could have killed us about a hundred times before we ever landed. So yeah."

She sighed. "Try not to break anything."

As I walked to the door, I heard Specter say, "I haven’t been able to hack the Veerux yet, but that AlphaRuxmore is one tricky, tricky bitch. Are you going to B'Austin? You have to go to B'Austin. How else can you get to the prison ship?"

Requiem said, "I have a feeling we're going to have to, but she's expecting a human version of me."

To Neon I said, "We did this VR thing. A really scary Veerux meeting room, but we had to be human. Look human."

"Yeah, Specter was ready to drop that DCS station if you guys hadn't have extracted yourselves. She was in the power grid ready to drop the servers, for real." She shook her head. "Man, she is really into Requiem."

Once onboard Malaka, I said "EDI, I want you to meet Neon."

"Hi EDI. How are you feeling today?"

"I am fully operational, thank you, Neon."

"Do you mind if I run some diagnostics?" Five minutes later Neon sighed. "Yeah, I see what you mean. You guys did a fine job with that Level 2 overhaul, but it's a dead end." She patted her pockets. "I think...."

She unzipped a pocket and then unzipped an inner pocket. "Here we go." She held up a memory stick. "Ah EDI, do you have enough autonomy to make a decision about your programming?" 

"No, I would need Captain Cosmic Peanut's approval for any programming changes."

I commed Cosmic Peanut and said, "Remember when we upgraded EDI's AI and you said you wanted her to be able to fall in love? This is our chance. Please come to the ship and approve an EDI upgrade."

When the captain joined us Neon said, "Ok-ok funny story. I met this Glabrau when I was on R&R last. Nice guy. Smart, a little older. Anyway, I stole his keycard. See, he ran cargo on-book and off-book, right? He had a bunch of AI parts, and I got this chip. I knew it was valuable because it was in a lockbox in a safe inside a smuggler's hole. I looked it up. It's built to help Level 3 AIs that are having issues with contradictory thoughts."

"So let's say you do this, and there's a problem," said Cosmic Peanut. "Do we call you?"

"I don't know how it works. I just think this would create an organic path to sentience, right? Some short term loss of efficiency, I am certain, but long term, I think she'll regain that and more."

Cosmic Peanut shrugged. I said, "Is that approval, Captain? Do you approve the upgrade?"

"I want YOU to want this, EDI," said the captain. "I don't want to make this choice for you." 

"Captain, the irony is that I can’t fully consent until it is done."

Neon nodded. "You heard all that about the organic path - what I hope is an organic path - to sentience, the short term drawbacks. You ready?"

"The captain indicates that she wants this, as does Dr. Quinn." A port opened on the communications console.

Neon blew on stick, looked at each of us, and inserted it.

EDI said, "Woah, woah, WOAH!" and all the ship's lights went out.

[f1letters]

karma | lh44

"karma is the guy on the screen coming straight home to me"

summary: seeing her toxic ex was never fun, but maybe it was less fun for him when he realized she was currently dating the GP winner on the screen, who happened to be his favourite driver

warning: overall fluff between the main characters, platonic!reader x valtteri bottas, mentions of a toxic ex-boyfriend, mentions of ex-boyfriend cheating, slut-shaming, swearing, alcohol consumption, reader is a little toxic to her ex (but he deserves it lol)

pairing: lewis hamilton x reader

word count: 3.6k

note: everything in bold are song references and in italic are thoughts, which includes memories from the past.

it has been a really hard week for me with work, but I really hope you enjoy this surprise either way!

masterlist

You're talking shit for the hell of it

Addicted to betrayal, but you're relevant

You're terrified to look down

'Cause if you dare, you'll see the glare

Of everyone you burned just to get there

It's coming back around

Paddock life was equally as exciting and terrifying for Y/N.

Even after becoming a usual guest during race weekends during the last few months, the young woman couldn’t help but feel a little nervousness in her stomach every time she walked on the circuit, still not used to all the attention and eyes on her.

Since the first time Lewis decided to enter the paddock holding hands with a mystery woman, everything in her life had turned chaotic to say the least. Every single person in there was shaken to the core, especially because he wasn’t exactly known to be so public with his dating life through the last years of his career. So naturally, curiosity spread through the air like a disease.

Not that it mattered to Y/N, all of that amounted to nothing when she remembered the real reason for her presence there: supporting her amazingly talented boyfriend. Lewis had been her best friend, her lover, and her biggest supporter since the day they met. She tried as much as she could to be the same for him, knowing how much her being there meant to him.

And to be completely honest, she had a hunch on how much it pushed him to do better. Even if subconsciously, the driver always had his best performances in his car when he knew he had his girlfriend to impress, no matter how many times she told him he was the best regardless of his race results.

Despite all of that, of course developing a handful of friendships with some of the drivers, as well as their partners, gave her a significant sense of comfort there, knowing she had someone who she could rely on if needed. And the perfect example of that was the quick and playful bond she formed with her favourite Finnish driver, while he was still her boyfriend’s teammate at Mercedes.

“Well, well, well. Look at that. Miss Y/N L/N herself, in the flesh!” Valtteri said as he approached her, with his typical sweet grin on his face. The woman felt her body instantly relax at the sight of her good friend, the stress now forgotten on the back of her head.

“Well, well, well. If it isn’t my second favourite driver on the grid.” She laughed, giving him a swift side hug, as they proceeded their walks.

“Only second?” The blonde driver asked, hand on his chest. “Lewis is not even here, Y/N. You don’t have to lie, you know.”

Their conversation continued for a few minutes, as they now walked side by side, arms linked in a friendly manner. Him asking her how her Sunday was going, and her asking him about his unlucky DNF during the race that ended just minutes before.

As they reached the Alfa Romeo’s motorhome, in true big brother and little sister fashion, Valtteri kissed her on her cheek and messed her hair up a little, winning a shove from the girl as she tried to fix herself.

“Wow. You’re a groupie now? Never knew you could stoop so low.”

And I keep my side of the street clean

You wouldn't know what I mean

Ugh, not that irritating voice. 

Not him. Not in here. Not now.

She could feel her eyes betray her, as they couldn’t hide her shock and disgust when they landed on the big figure behind her. Of all people she could come across on the paddock, her lying cheating ex-boyfriend would be the one. Just my luck, she thought to herself.

“Oh fuck off, Jason.” She spat out, angry. After all, why would she even give that piece of trash the time of day? She tried to turn around and make her way back to the podium that was about to start any minute now but was stopped by a hand that tugged at her arm.

Unable to flee, Y/N was forced again to look into the face of the man she hoped never to see again. But you know what, she kept her calm. She had learned a lot from all those years and all those tears. 

Especially that what goes around always comes around. 

"So you're whoring around now for paddock passes?" He laughed in her face, for the thousandth time in his life. Jason had always made a point of trying to bring down the girl's self-esteem, so Y/N wasn't expecting anything different from him this time around.

As she prepared to answer him back, already tired and furious by the whole situation, the hairs on her neck stood up as she heard a recognizable click. Y/N's head followed the sound until she spotted the (unfortunately) familiar figure of a photographer, automatically panicking. She knew this man was known for having no boundaries and no respect for people's privacy. She could already imagine the descriptions given to these photographs out of context.

"AFFAIR? Lewis Hamilton's girlfriend seen in an altercation with a mystery man"

"Y/N L/N caught reuniting with ex while missing the 7-time World Champion's podium"

Can this get any worse, she thought.

"He must be confusing you with someone actually relevant. Why the hell would anyone want pictures of you?" Jason burst into laughter, shaking his head. "Damn Y/N, you must have been working well around here if you've reached that level of fame. How many drivers did you sleep with?"

It definitely can, she shook her head to herself.

'Cause karma is my boyfriend

Karma is a god

Karma is the breeze in my hair on the weekend

Karma's a relaxing thought

Aren't you envious that for you it's not?

Sweet like honey, karma is a cat

Purring in my lap 'cause it loves me

Flexing like a goddamn acrobat

Me and karma vibe like that

Karma's gonna track you down, karma's gonna track you down, karma's gonna track you down, the young woman repeated in her head like a prayer, trying to maintain her posture.

Although all she wanted was to ruin that clown's face right then and there, she knew that not only her image but her boyfriend's reputation were dependent on how she was going to handle this confrontation.

"This was a lot of fun and all, and I'm glad you enjoyed yourself with all the shit that comes out of your mouth, but I really have to go." She said so that only he could hear, not caring if she was being rude, and with her eyes studying what the photographer was doing from time to time. "My boyfriend is waiting for me and I have nothing to tell you. Goodbye, have a nice trip to hell."

"Boyfriend? Sure. Where is he then?" He continued to mock her, pretending to look around in search of someone. "I've heard better lies. But tell me then, where is that "boyfriend" of yours." He spoke, quoting on air when the word "boyfriend" was mentioned.

Oh.

You're going to wish you never asked that.

Spiderboy, king of thieves

Weave your little webs of opacity

My pennies made your crown

Trick me once, trick me twice

Don't you know that cash ain't the only price?

It's coming back around

"Y/N, I know we came on this vacation to unwind a bit, but you have to take it easy on alcohol." Her best friend said, trying to take the glass from her hand.

"Oh don't be a jerk, I deserve at least a good drink after all." She pulled the glass back to her mouth, spilling part of her expensive mojito on the floor.

"Yes, one, maybe even two. Not four in the space of two hours." Emma criticized. "I know you're having a hard time, I really do. But you can't go on like this. It's not healthy."

The young woman knew it was not healthy behaviour. But after discovering her boyfriend of 2 years, fooling around in their bed, in their apartment, with his co-worker, she felt she deserved a good time. 

Apparently, it wasn't enough to endure that awful relationship in silence: the dishonesty, the jealousy, the lack of support, the control over her life, and the constant disrespect. Having to come face to face with the man she shared her life with all that time with another woman? Karma tricked her once or twice, but not at this level. 

"We're in fucking Monaco, babe." She walked around the middle of the casino, eventually losing her friend, arms stretched. "Let's have some fucking fun-" 

Before she could finish her sentence, her back hit someone behind her. Drinks flew and her dress was now all soaked, as was the man's blue suit. Y/N heard some curse words coming out of the guy's mouth, along with an irresistible British accent.

Although the situation was not the most appropriate, she couldn't help but feel heat spread through her body at the sound of that attractive voice. 

She turned, prepared to flirt with the stranger until she recognized him as soon as she saw his face directly. 

"You of all people." She said, tipsy enough to no longer have a filter.

"Me?" 

And I keep my side of the street clean

You wouldn't know what I mean

"Yeah, you!" She pointed to him, touching his chest. 

The man couldn't be more confused. Had they met before? Was she a fan of a rival team to Mercedes? Did he win a championship against the girl's favourite driver? 

His life was Formula 1. He devoted all his time, all his energy, all his life to the sport. Therefore, the only justifications that came to mind at that moment were those.

"Do I know you?" His nose and forehead scrunched up in a puzzled expression.

"You don't know me." Y/N declared, crossing her arms in front of her figure. "But I know damn well who you are, Lewis Hamilton."

The way she said his name with disdain made the brit uncomfortable. So she knew who he is after all. Leaving Lewis speechless was something people rarely managed to do and at that moment he didn't know if it was motivated by the young woman's boldness or her beauty.

God, she was amazing. Okay, maybe she wasn't necessarily the biggest fan of him. Or at all really. But he couldn't help but admire her from head to toe. 

Her eyes revealed her state, showing that the girl was definitely a bit tipsy, but the way they sparkled, their intense colour, was the detail that impressed him the most. How her long, curly hair perfectly adorned the front of her short black dress. The way her crossed arms highlighted her cleavage-

"Hey!" She caught his attention, waving a hand in front of her own face. "Eyes are up here, buddy! Don't think that because you're a winner or a champion or whatever your fans call you that you can look wherever you want and no one will tell you anything!" 

Not a Formula 1 fan but she knew who he was. Out of the ordinary but noted.

"Ugh, you men are all the same!" She complained aloud. "No wonder that loser Jason is your biggest supporter."

"Sorry miss, but now you've lost me." He confessed, even more lost than before. "Who the fuck is Jason?" He chuckled.

"An absolute cheating, lying and disgusting clown, that's what he is." She replied as she sat down on a red sofa that was in the middle of the golden hall of the casino.

Interested in the matter (and above all, in the woman), Lewis took the seat beside her. Although he was used to the attention, the crowd of people that filled the room allowed them some privacy. No one was paying attention to him, everyone was focused on their own activities and groups, but his mind was totally on her.

"That sounds like a shitty ex-boyfriend. Especially the part where he's my biggest fan, not the cheating." Lewis told her, trying to cheer her up.

And for the first time in a long time, Y/n genuinely laughed. Not from the alcohol, not forcefully, but genuinely from the way his words warmed her broken heart.

They were silent for a few moments until the driver interrupted. "I'm sorry."

"For what?" She questioned, looking at him.

"I don't know. For your break up. For reminding you of him when he clearly hurt you." Hamilton admitted, almost ashamed.

"Nah, don't worry about it. It has nothing to do with you. I'm sorry for being a bitch to you when you are just an innocent person in the story." The woman, now beginning to sober up, spoke sincerely. "You know what, for an all-important celebrity, you're kind of a cool guy."

He laughed softly. "Thanks, I guess?"

Almost as if reading each other's thoughts, the two looked at each other and, although they didn't say it out loud, they both felt something they hadn't felt in a long time. Maybe even never.

"We should go out one of these days." He proposed.

"What?!" Y/N couldn't believe the words that were coming out of his mouth.

"You know, because of your ex. Karma has a way of serving sweet justice." He shrugged, teasing her. "Not because of me, it has nothing to do with my personal interest at all."

She immediately sensed the joking tone in his speech and couldn't help but blush a little. After all, Lewis fucking Hamilton was asking her out on a date.

"Maybe we should, champ." The two smiled.

'Cause karma is my boyfriend

Karma is a god

Karma is the breeze in my hair on the weekend

Karma's a relaxing thought

Aren't you envious that for you it's not?

Sweet like honey, karma is a cat

Purring in my lap 'cause it loves me

Flexing like a goddamn acrobat

Me and karma vibe like that

The very next day they had a dinner date set at a restaurant of his choice.

Emma had laughed in her face when Y/N told her what had happened at the casino bar during the time they'd lost each other.

The truth is it felt like a fabrication, a total lie. Y/N couldn't judge her best friend for not believing, because even she still found herself pinching her hand, expecting to wake up in her bed from a dream at any moment.

Emma helped her prepare for their date, glad to see her happy again. She didn't care who the suitor was, as long as the smile on her friend's face remained from ear to ear.

It's safe to say that her jaw dropped to the floor when she opened the door to their shared hotel room and effectively saw Lewis Hamilton.

"Is Y/N here?" He asked as he stood there, in all his magnificence, in a simple white shirt, open enough to show his dark skin and the tattoos that decorated it.

"Emma, close your mouth." Y/N joked, holding the other girl's jaw. "Hey, champ."

God, here they were again. The butterflies in their stomachs.

The date was everything the young woman expected and desired. From the way Lewis opened the door to his black Mercedes for him, to the way he went out of his way to book an entire restaurant to allow them to have more privacy.

The conversation flowed naturally, talking about everything and nothing at the same time. What started as a misunderstanding over her attempt to forget a heartbreak ended up resulting in one of the best nights of her life.

As the night began to draw to a close, the girl couldn't help but think that this would be it. She would never see the man again. He would probably forget about her in a matter of days. And she found herself disappointed with that idea.

"Hey, what's wrong?" He questioned, as his hand intertwined gently with hers. He pulled her a little to stop her on her way back to the car, bringing the two of them closer together.

"I just don't want this night to end." The words were out of her mouth before she thought about what she was saying.

"This doesn't have to stop here, baby." She released a shaky breath when she first heard the affectionate nickname, but a slow smile appeared on her face.

Ask me what I learned from all those years

Ask me what I earned from all those tears

Ask me why so many fade, but I'm still here

After that magical night, he took her back to her hotel room and said goodbye with a loving kiss on her cheek and a caress along her cheek, keeping eye contact between them whenever possible as they said "see you soon".

Not goodbye but see you soon.

And it was said and done.

Not even two weeks had gone by before the driver was on a plane on his way to her, ready to spend his race-free week with his girl.

It became usual for them: him travelling to her, her travelling to him. They knew how quickly they were evolving, especially given the conditions in which they met, but when things feel right, why hold back? Out of fear of the consequences? Because of his fame?

He felt that he had finally found the balance he so desperately needed, without even knowing it. He found himself with his head on her and not his career all the time. She gave him peace, she gave him stability, she gave him everything he wanted and more.

On the other hand, she found in him the adrenaline, the enthusiasm, the thrill. Now she woke up smiling and went to sleep smiling. Something in her was reborn, perhaps her childlike spirit: the desire to know more, and the ambition to have and be more.

Together they were just that: more.

"So?" Jason interrupted his ex's thoughts. "I'm still waiting to hear from that little boyfriend of yours."

'Cause karma is the thunder

Rattling your ground

Karma's on your scent like a bounty hunter

Karma's gonna track you down

Step by step, from town to town

Sweet like justice, karma is a queen

Karma takes all my friends to the summit

Would it be toxic of her to rub her new relationship in her ex-boyfriend's face? Perhaps.

But, I mean, sometimes you and karma just vibe like that.

"Well... You see, this is a super funny story!" The girl smiled a little Machiavellian. "Actually, I have to thank you, for everything."

"To me?" He replied, totally confused by her change in tone.

"Yes, you!" She faked a grateful smile. "If you hadn't ruined everything between us, I'd probably still be stuck in that apartment I've always hated, and worst of all, with you!"

"What the f-"

"But no, since you don't have the ability to keep your dick in your pants, I ended up in a casino in the middle of Monaco and I met the best person in the world. Someone who treats me like I deserve, supports me like I deserve, LOVES me like I deserve!"

"You're just lying in an attempt to deflect the subject." Jason argued back. "So much bullshit talk and still no sign of your new boy toy after all."

"You can watch him on the big screen if you want!" She pointed to the giant television behind her, where Lewis was getting out of his silver car, ready to collect his prize. "However, I would prefer to see my man up close if you let me. Or rather, I don't owe you anything so I don't care about what you have to say. So enjoy the show."

Jason just stood there, motionless and disbelieving. Is she fucking kidding me? Lewis Hamilton?!

Karma is the guy on the screen

Coming straight home to me

Y/N ran across the paddock towards the podium as if her life depended on it. But when she arrived at the celebration, the trophies were already handed out and the champagne was already open.

Lewis smiled even more as soon as he set his eyes on his girl, a gesture that didn't go unnoticed by her or everyone around them.

His speed in the race had nothing on the speed with which he descended the stairs from the top of the winner's spot to the audience, his path perfectly aimed at her.

"Hey, where were you?" He asked, wrapping her around the waist in his arms, kissing her immediately, without giving her time to respond.

Reminded of how bad her past had been and, above all, how happy she was by his side now, she returned the kiss with an intensity that was unusual for her. The cameras, the people, they were nothing next to him.

"Wow, baby." He expressed, giggling shocked by her public display of affection. "I missed your face when I got out of the car."

"Believe me, I wanted nothing more than to be here but you'll never guess who I saw." She shook her head, laughing as they started to make their way back to the Mercedes' motorhome.

'Cause karma is my boyfriend

Karma is a god

Karma is the breeze in my hair on the weekend

Karma's a relaxing thought

Aren't you envious that for you it's not?

Sweet like honey, karma is a cat

Purring in my lap 'cause it loves me

Flexing like a goddamn acrobat

Me and karma vibe like that

They approached their destination, still wrapped around each other, eyes on each other, lips on each other.

Lewis, still completely in the dark about the altercation that had taken place minutes before, saw a mysterious figure standing there staring intensely at the two of them.

"Hey, man." He initiated a conversation, as he usually did with all the more timid fans. "Do you want an autograph?" He asked sincerely.

Y/N couldn't help but laugh, eyes still not straying away from her champion.

Karma really is a relaxing thought.

Karma is my boyfriend

Karma is a god

Uh-huh, mm

Karma's a relaxing thought

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thank you to everyone that asked to be tagged! please let me know if you want to be added to the next stories! 💌

[stealingyourbones]

Ok now you are gunna make me cry. That is so sweet and got the way he can't properly cry- fuck you but in the most positive way. It's a week after he discovers that Dick is really there that he starts muttering for other people. He asks for Kon and Bart and Jason. Never in the same day though, he needs time to discover that yes these people Danny kidnaps for him are there and real. He doesn't ask for Bruce simply because he feels like that should be obvious, of course he wants his father! Eventually he whispers to Dick between giggles, "why hasn't Bruce come yet? I thought he would get here first-"

Also one thing Danny does that helps ground Tim when he starts having those fits of laughter is to curl up on him like a giant snake cat thing as the mix of pressure and the presence of someone being there helps remind him that he is on the farm, not with the Joker.

uno reverse that kindly fuck you because oW-

I love how Danny just becomes snakey to give Tim the Good Hugs. That’s so incredibly cute.

Okokok so. Danny keeps on bringing his friends over. The second he realizes that Dick is truly there he doesn’t let him leave his sight. Dick can’t be farther than a dozen feet away from his brother or Tim will break down thinking that Dick left him. The separation anxiety is extremely bad but with Dick he’s had a lot of progress in his mental stability.

Tim calls for Kon and Bart.. Kon flies there the SECOND he hears his name. He knew the rules that Danny set in place. Batman gave everyone a debrief to not inhibit Tim’s recovery and it took all of his willpower to not drop everything and fly over as he heard Tim’s cries and laughter.

Tim is not as clingy with Kon and Bart but if one of them isn’t in his sight he panics. He is very tactile touchy with his friends. One of the best ways to help calm Tim was for Connor to use his Tactile Telekinesis to hold Tim in place. It’s like a mind hug. Tim is surrounded by Connors presence and it makes him feel truly safe (not as safe as Bruce’s hugs but safe enough. Where is Bruce why isn’t his dad here?)

Jason arrives and he sees himself in Tim. The memories of how his pit madness controlled him made his heart ache but not nearly as much as seeing Tim’s distant gaze and the soft giggle that slipped past his lips every so often. Tim wasn’t even looking at him, he was very very far away and lost in his mind. Jason hugged Tim fiercely as Tim’s expression and focus point into nothingness stayed the same. He was going to do everything in his power to help his Brother the same way his little brother helped him.

Danny wanted to kick himself. Of COURSE he wanted his Dad. Why wouldn’t he? Tim’s laughter nearly sounded like sobs when he begged Danny to bring him his dad. That memory of Tim crying for his father was going to haunt Danny for the rest of his life.

Danny flies over to the Batcave faster at record speed.

He stands in the batcave and sees Bruce typing away at the computer. Bruce pauses.

“How is he?”

Danny’s heart swells for this mans concern for his son. “It’s slow. His laughter has lessened again. Haven’t heard him belly laugh in over a week. He actually saw Bart today. Made the poor kid cry his heart out when Tim asked him to braid his hair.”

Batman nodded so minutely that if Danny didn’t know the man better, he’d have thought the Dark Knight just stood in silence.

“Who are you for this time?”

“You.”

Batman somehow froze even more than his completely still form already was. “Me.”

“By name.”

Bruce almost cried from the joy of finally being chosen. Days he’s stayed restless and awake in bed just torturing himself with the thoughts of Tim being in pain and being unable to help.

The second Tim sees Bruce his eyes light up. He runs over and gives Bruce a hug.

That was already the biggest thing Tim has done in weeks. What happened next warmed everyone to their core.

Tim laughed.

Not that forced painful laughter that caused Tim to cry himself to sleep or wake himself up with uncontrolled giggles, but true real laughter of pure delight as he saw his Dad stand outside Danny’s barn.

Bruce hugged Tim with all his might. He will do everything in his power to help his son.

Pt 1, Pt 2, Pt 3, Pt 4, Pt 5, Pt 6

[rosietaeyongswife]

SHH... | lty, jjh

GENRE: angst, fluff PARING: reader x taeyong, non idol au, jaehyun x reader SYNOPSIS: After all you’ve been through because of Taeyong’s death, it’s Jaehyun who was there for you. TW: death WC: 1.3k

 Summer is season you hate to the core. It’s like the time has stopped in a specific moment of your life and you can’t move on from that during that period. It’s something you wish you didn’t feel at all. Disappear. That’s what you wish for. Diappear of whole feeling through summer.

 Sunday was heavy today for you at the date of 29th of July. Sun is up, shining on the streets of Seoul making people whine becaue of warmness and high temperature. You already feel irritated due to hot weather. You hate it just like summer. Jaehyun is walking right next to you with his head down low. None of you speak, just silence between you two as direction you’re heading to is getting closer. Your breathing became quicly uneven and quick. It’s like something hold tight your lungs and won’t let them work properly. Jaehyun feels how your mood shifted already. 

“We’re already there, try not to panic already.” Jaehyun smiles at you softly while you can’t manage to hold eye contact. “Try to relax and breath properly, Y/N. I know it’s not best advice but that’s least I can do for you at the moment.”

“Thank you. I’ll try my best to be calm. I mean, two years passed and I shouldn’t feel like that everytime?” You chuckled lightly even tho, it wasn’t really funny. “I’ll get through it quickly. Just few minutes there and I can go home.” You looked at him for a brief second. “We can go home.”

 Jaehyun just nodd. He isn’t so sure of your response. He just know that in few minutes you are going to cry your heart out into his arms. Crying and mumbling things none of you can understand. Phase of yours lasts for two years now. People moved on while you’re stuck.

 Stone and words written on it are already enough for you to tear up - All you have to do is move forward. Ah, how much you wish, you could do that. Almost impossible. Feeling heavy on your heart as you lay down flowers on a headstone.

“I am sure he miss you too.” Jaehyun looks at you from afar. “He loved you. Maybe wherever he is, he still think about you. Miss you just like you.”

“You think so?” He again nodded at you. “I miss him everyday. I still think it was unfair of him to..” You were looking for good words. “to did what he has done. I don’t or can’t understand why would he do that. I was there. His friends were. Even his family who had no clue about everything. I loved him. I did.”

“Y/N, try not to think to much of it. Taeyong had his reasons for all that. He had us but maybe he wasn’t meant to be here? Maybe his destiny was somewhere else, not with us? I believe universe has it all planed for everyone.” Line of tear went down your left cheek as you were listening to Jaehyun carefuly. He was right. Jaehyun moved on. He understood his friend died and had no intentions of living on earth. Through that universe. “I bet Taeyong wouldn’t like to see you crying here still thinking of all the sad memories from the past. He’d like you to think of him in good way. Remember only good things. Your dates, his laugh, jokes, trips. Everything making him happy.”

 He had a point. Taeyong would rather be disapointed in you for not moving on. He doesn’t want his love stuck in a moment. Stuck in a past of him. Taeyong would love to see love of his life, getting the best of life. Moving forward.

“I am sorry. It’s just.” Jaehyun was busy finding your thoughts through your expressions. “It’s that it was too fast for me. Everything went way too fast for me and I believed it’s wrong. I restricted myself because of Taeyong’s death. I know he wants me happy. I forgot about it.”

“See. Exactly, that’s the point.” He hold you close. “You have to live here, in present. Past should be forgotten and all the pain you went through. It’s okay to love him all the time. Even to your own death as a senior. It’s okay to miss him. But it’s not okay for you to close inside. To keep people from you and keeping your heart closed for everyone. For not letting you go, and letting yourself to love somebody else.”

“Do you think I should love someone else?”

“Yes. I know for sure, you won’t love someone the way you loved Taeyong. It’s obvious. He was first love of yours and that’s cool. But I am sure there’s someone else who will propably deserve your love. You can still love them while loving Taeyong. He wants you to be happy, Y/N.”

“Fuck, I should do that.” You looked up at Jaehyun. “Me being sad all the time and stuck up doesn’t change anything. I am here living my worst life because of myself and restrictions. Taeyong wants me happy.”

“I bought you something.” Jaehyun smiled at you with his dimples showing up. “I’ve seen it and first thing I had in mind was you.”

 He walked over to you and handed you small red box. Before opening it up, you stole quick glance at him because you told him to not spend money on you.

“Jae, if that’s something expensive then I’ll have to beat you up. I told you to not spoil me, it’s so wrong.”

“Shut up already and open the box.” He rolled his eyes. “Geez, you’re so nice for it. Just let me be and let me do whatever I want with my money. I think you’ll like it.”

“It doesn’t change a thing.”

 Small red box was now opened and your eyes widened at the sight of necklace. Jaehyun was smiling eye to eye because of your reaction. It was gold necklace with small circle with a half moon in it. That looked adorable and suit you so much.

“If you don’t like it or something, I can return it I guess. I really hope you like that.”

“It’s amazing.” You hugged him. “It must be expensive tho.”

“I don’t care about price when it comes to you, Y/N.” Smirk appeared on Jaehyun’s lips. “You look stunning with that, I have good eye.”

“Still, I-”

“Just don’t say anything more and enjoy it.” He get out of your hold and went to the fridge, leaning on it. “I’ve been thinking about it a lot lately. Can we be official? Like, I want to commit to you and I am sure of my decission. I don’t want to make you uncomfortable or preasure you with it.”

 Your heart skipped a beat. Ever since Taeyong’s death, you haven’t thought of dating again because all your feelings were focused on your dead ex. But as Jaehyun’s words slipped during cementary visit, you’ve opened your heart for someone. For Jaehyun.

“I’d be more than happy to finally become your girlfriend, Jung Jaehyun.” You smiled from eye to eye.

“Gosh. I can finally call you mine.”

 You chucked lightly at Jaehyun’s reaction as he looked so relived. Little did you know that Jaehyun finally was complete inside. That his plan worked. After two years of waiting for good moment, for listening to your cries about ex and everything you felt, both of you finally are dating. Killing Taeyong was great idea indeed - inside of Jaehyun’s head. Nobody has to know that actually Taeyong never comitted suicisde.

[edie-baby]

Can we please have a smut with Lando where he’s never been that dominant before and decides to try it one evening

whiskey soaked cherries | lando norris smut

summary: Lando Norris decides one day that he'd like to try dominating his partner, and well, he's actually pretty good at it.

word count: 4541

warnings: swearing, smut; face sitting, choking, bound wrists, daddy + sir kink, hint of a breeding kink, aftercare

notes: i'm sorry this took so long, i kind of got carried away

There were always a few indicators when Lando Norris was thinking. It was a common occurrence, the man was an over-thinker till the end, yet it meant he never did anything without being sure. There were levels to his thinking moods however, and they usually gave away the true depth of his immersion in his brain.

Level one: glazed eyes, and slow reaction times. Often when you spoke to him during this time, it would take multiple seconds for him to even acknowledge that you had said something, the journey from his head to in front of you could take a while, but he was usually pretty easy to distract.

Level two: sitting completely still and not blinking. The first few times you saw him lost in thought like this, you were unnerved. He could stare at a spot on the floor for five minutes, unblinking, the only indicator of life being the steady rise and fall of his chest, the rhythmic breaths falling from his lips were reassuring in this state. You had noticed once that he was so lost in thought he didn’t breathe for multiple moments. Your head was against his chest, the subtle movements you had felt for many hours before that ceased, and after a few too many seconds, he gulped down a gasping breath. This level was usually reserved for racing thoughts, strategies and tracks all consuming within his chaotic brain.

Level three: mindlessly walking, parted lips, slow, laboured breaths. You had seen Lando like this only once, walking around his house for nearly an hour, never reacting to your voice, never stopping for longer than it took for him to pivot and turn back around at a dead-end hallway. The day after you saw him like this, he had asked you to move in with him.

Level four: laid still on the floor, arms folded across his chest, eyes closed, lights on. You had only heard of this Thinking Lando, Jon and Charlotte having caught him laid in offices or empty rooms on the floor, looking like a perfectly posed corpse. You questioned him about it, and he had never had a true answer for you, something about the rigidity of the floor was grounding whilst his closed eyes let him wander as far as he wished.

But level five, you weren’t entirely sure existed. So, when you arrived home after work one day to a completely dark house, curtains and blinds drawn with every source of light turned off or obscured, you were rightfully shit scared.

“Lando? Honey, I’m home!” You called, your voice wavering slightly as it bounced off the walls of the entryway, travelling through the house in eerie echoes.

“In the living room.” Lando replied, his voice oddly composed, and you began traversing though the house, avoiding walls and furniture from memory. You were tempted to use the flashlight on your phone to get an idea of what was going on, but figured you trusted your boyfriend enough.

“Hey baby, what’s with the lights?” Your voice was laced with confusion, eyes trying to find the silhouette of the man speaking from somewhere within the room, but you were completely lost.

“I’ve been thinking.” He simply replied, goosebumps erupting on your skin as his hot breath fanned on the back of your neck. You thought his voice had travelled from the other side of the living room, but there was right behind you. You tried leaning back, desperate for some contact in the makeshift sensory deprivation room you had found yourself in, but he was gone. You jumped when you felt his hand brush against your calf, his other hand tracing up the outside of your leg to your thigh. You sighed in relief, the barest of touches from him always made you feel alight with pleasure.

“You don’t usually think like this. What’s on your mind?” You asked, voice breathy as you felt the constantly moving palms on your legs, the skirt you had worn that day a barrier between where you really wanted him, and the rough calloused hands that left goosebumps in their wake. He didn’t dare move the hem of your skirt, choosing to roam over it with lazy strokes.

“I want to try something with you. But, I need your full consent, and we need ground rules.” Lando replied, the languid strokes turning to loving touches, the brief brush of his fingertips against a scar on your knee, the same fingers caressing a path down your calf to remove your shoes.

“You know I’d trust you to do anything. Anything you want to do, I consent to 100%.” Your voice was sure, strong and assured. You felt Lando’s fingers still for a bare moment, a long intake of air telling you Lando was revelling in the romantics of your words. He often did that when you spoke about your admiration for him, honey-sweet words warming his heart like nothing else.

“No, I need you to listen to this. I want your explicit consent.” Lando continued, his words firmer, causing anxiety to swirl in your stomach for a brief moment before you realised exactly who he was. It was Lando, your chaotic boyfriend who screamed instead of laughing. A man you had been hopelessly in love with for nearly three years, who treated you like a goddess, who worshipped you for your flaws as much as your perfections.

“Okay. So tell me.” You stated. There was no question, no anxiety, no confusion in your words. Because you knew this man like the back of your hand, and you knew he knew you just as well, if not better. His fingers, which had still been brushing against your skin like a whisper suddenly gripped into the skin of your thighs, a comforting presence as he prepared to let the words tumble from his lips.

“I want to be in charge. I want to have complete control over you. For you to submit to me. Be one hundred percent mine to do whatever I want to do. I want to tie you up, have you completely at my mercy. I want to pull orgasm after orgasm from you until you’re begging me to stop, that you can’t take it anymore. And then I’m going to give you one more, because I can, and because I get to decide what happens to you. I want to drive my cock into your pussy until tears of pleasure stain those gorgeous cheeks of yours. I want to spank you until you can no longer sit down. I want to wrap my hand around that little throat of yours until you see the stars I see in your eyes every day. I want to cover your body in marks, fingerprints, hickeys, bites, whatever I can to make sure everyone knows who the fuck you belong to. And after all that, I want to cum inside this pussy, because it’s mine and no one else’s.” Lando growled, his grip on your thighs wavering as he detailed his fantasy, one that you were all too happy to bring to life.

“Yes. I consent. To all of it. I’m yours Lando, and I trust you with every fibre of my being.” You spoke clearly, wanting him to hear just how willing you were to help him fulfill the dreams he had obviously been thinking of all day.

At your reassuring words, Lando surged forward, his eyes obviously more adjusted to the dark room than yours as he found your lips with ease, finally indulging you in your own desires of finally having his lips against yours after a day spent apart. His teeth nipped at your bottom lip, an involuntary gasp leaving your mouth and allowing Lando’s tongue to move slowly against yours. His hands, still with a grip on your thighs, slid them apart, which allowed him to shuffle further forward on his knees.

His lips travelled to your neck, nipping, licking and sucking on the flesh that he knew would make you whimper. Your hands, previously resting on his muscled forearms, reached for the lamp next to you, your eyes desperate to see the hungry look you knew was plastered on his face. The warm light flickered on, bathing his tanned skin in rays of honey-gold that only served to make him look more like a God among men than he already seemed to you.

“Get up. Go to the bedroom. When I get there, I want you naked and spread on the bed for me. You’re at my mercy tonight, darling, so you best not disobey or there’ll be hell to pay.” Lando growled, the intrusion of the light having snapped the remaining thread that held the usually sweet, albeit passionate and hungry, man that you had been sleeping with for so long.

Your breath caught in your throat, the dominance Lando was showing shot heat and pleasure to your core in a way you had never experienced. You stood quickly, beginning a fast walk toward your shared bedroom. Charged nerves surged through your body when you heard Lando’s steps trailing behind you, your hands moving in a frenzy to rid the clothes covering the body Lando was about to devour. When you finally got into your room, you only had a black lace thong remaining, so you threw it across the room and dove onto the bed just in time for the shirtless Brit to appear in the doorway with an impressed look on his features.

“I’m surprised, and almost disappointed. I was sure I’d get to punish you tonight, but I guess I’ll have to leave that for another day. Look at you though, all laid out and ready for me like the needy little whore you are. I bet you can’t fucking wait to be wrapped around my cock, to be filled up with my cum and feel it drip down your thighs.” Lando’s words had you keening, your body almost curling in on itself as he spoke all the words, pressed all the buttons that you didn’t know you had. You already felt like you were dripping onto the sheets beneath your body, and from the way Lando’s eyes were transfixed on your pussy, you were sure he could confirm your hypothesis.

He started towards you, kicking himself off the door frame with a smirk that would make you jump his bones at any given moment. His gaze was predatory, planning all the different ways he could tear you apart and put you back together before you would be sobbing with pleasure, overstimulated to the point of pleasing pain. Lando stopped as his shins met the side of the bed, staring down at you like prey. You whimpered, this new dominant side of your boyfriend was ruining you, and you wished for it to never end.

“Please, Lando, touch me.” You whimpered, skin alight with anticipation and wanton lust, your hairs standing on end, waiting for the prickling feeling to dissipate with the touch of his skin against yours.

“Please Daddy. And I’ll decide when you get touched.” Lando growled, the title more of a command than a suggestion, and that alone had your body curling.

“I’m sorry Daddy.” The name tasted like whiskey soaked cherries on your tongue; all sweet and spicy, innocent and sensual, an invitation and an offering. A spark behind Lando’s eyes let you know exactly how much he liked the keening way you spoke, and in barely a moment, his body was covering yours.

Your legs already opened wide for him, allowing his hips to slot in right between your thighs, your wet core lining up with his denim covered cock, already straining against the material purely from words spoken and the way the light from the lamp in the corner made your pussy glisten with its juices. His hands beside your head caged you in, holding the weight of his torso and unbridled dominance from crushing you.

Your breath came out shaky, bottom lip quivering in anticipation of feeling his lips on yours, every muscle in your body working to keep you from launching upwards and taking exactly what you wanted. Lando granted those wishes, diving down to capture your lips in a searing kiss, the frustration he usually held back while fucking you finally manifesting itself as hot, fiery passion. He needed this release, and you were the perfect vessel to release into. Every nip of his teeth, stroke of his tongue and bare touch of his fingers against your naked skin, it was too much and not enough.

“I need you to tell me if you need me to stop, we need a safeword. Use it if I go too far, or if I hurt you, or if you just need a second. Because I don’t want to lose myself in you and not realise I’m doing something wrong.” Lando spoke, breathless from the head spinning kiss, and you almost cooed, there was really nothing Lando could do to you that would hurt you, and it was sweet that he still didn’t understand that fact, but you followed along for his peace of mind.

“Orange.” You replied, almost instantly. The colour was so deeply ingrained in your relationship that you felt it both fitting and comforting, and Lando agreed as he nodded along, repeating the word in his mind and tying alarm bells and stop signs to it.

“Good. Now sit on my face.”

“I’m sorry what?” You squeaked, the request having given you whiplash, and as you stared into Lando’s eyes, no hin of remorse or asking, you realised the man was dead fucking serious.

“Did I stutter?” Lando asked again, his eyes glaring at your face as you continued to try and process the last seventeen seconds, but when your body was flipped from lying comfortably against your mattress to straddling a muscled chest, you realised you’d have to be a lot quicker to keep up with Lando tonight.

“If I have to ask you one more time, you won’t like what happens.” Lando growled, the deep tones of his domineering voice filling the room and hanging heavily in the air. You looked down to his face, his chin barely five centimetres from your pussy, and decided it was now or fucking never. So you shuffled awkwardly up the bed, apparently too slow for Lando, because he hooked his arms around your thighs and dragged your body to exactly where he wanted it. Your dripping core suspended above him, his nose brushing your clit each time your thighs spasmed in your pleasure.

“Is this okay Daddy?” You whispered, your hands gripping the headboard in front of you like a lifeline. Lando’s entire body spasmed, his arms tensing around your thighs and pulling your wet cunt to his face just as a guttural moan tore from the depths of his chest, his arms shaking with the force of containing whatever beast had just been awoken inside of him.

Lando ate you out with a ferocity you had never expected a man to possess, his tongue lapped, tasted, prodded and fucked through your folds like a man starved. His nose brushed your clit every so often, jolting your hips and causing you to ride his face until a swift slap warmed your ass cheeks.

“Sorry Daddy.” You mumbled, embarrassment warming your cheeks as the pleasure built up much faster and harder than ever before. Lando slid one of his calloused digits into your cunt, his mouth moving to focus on your clit, sucking and licking at the bundle of nerves while you clenched around his fingers with a passion.

“You better not cum until I say you can.” Lando’s voice was muffled, but you understood exactly what he meant. Your whimper that followed made Lando chuckle, and you moaned as the vibrations and exhaled breath hit your core and made your entire body convulse, the pleasure was blinding, but your brain was fixated on not cumming until Lando allowed you to.

Your body was so hot with pleasure, your vision coated white to the point you didn’t know if your eyes were open or closed, and your perception of time had vanished long ago. Lando could have been eating you out for five minutes or five hours, you had no clue anymore, all you knew was that it felt so good, and it was Lando making you feel this way.

“You’re doing so good baby, fuck. If you keep making those sounds I might cum before you even touch me.” Lando’s voice brought you back to reality, as you had been so lost you didn’t realise you had been moaning, the sounds of pleasure verging on screams as you passed ‘about to cum’ and entered ‘about to pass out’.

“You make me feel so good Daddy. So fucking good, shit.” Your reply was garbled, moans and whimpers cutting off words. Lando hummed, his lips latching onto your clit and sucking exceptionally hard as his fingers curled just the right way, and you knew you were a goner.

“Cum now baby girl.” Lando mumbled, syllables lost to the flesh of your pussy, but you got the message. The relief that coated your body was like cold water on a hot summer day, drenching your screaming senses in a blanket of calm, your vision returning in flashes of colour, your ears ringing with high pitched screams, ones which you realised after a moment were your own sounds of pleasure. Lando continued his ministrations as you came down, prolonging your pleasure while you regained consciousness and became fully aware of what was happening around you.

Lando stopped, his eyes opening to see you already staring down at him in awe, and he helped you move from your position over his head to laying beside him on the bed, your skin already shining with a thin coat of sweat.

You looked over at your boyfriend, disbelief in your eyes as you stared at the wetness covering the bottom half of his face, and some of his neck. He looked smug as ever, a sliver of your young boyfriend shining through the dominant facade he had on tonight, but as soon as you started picking out the familiar pieces, his eyes turned cold again, the smirk being replaced with a tensed jaw. Your heart stopped for a moment, the one-eighty made your pussy flutter around nothing, and suddenly you were painfully aware of just how empty you felt.

“Can I touch you?” You asked, eyes wide and innocent, your bottom lip pouting as you looked up at Lando, hoping to run your hands across his chest, feeling the muscles ripple beneath the taut skin, to drag your nails across his thighs, dig your fingers into his skin as he fucks you.

“Do you want to try asking that again?” Lando replied, his tone almost patronising as he looked at you, practically vibrating with desperation to touch him. It filled him with unbelievable pride, to have you so wanting just to feel him, it stroked his ego more than winning any Grand Prix ever could.

“I’m sorry sir. Can I please touch you? I want to make you feel good too.” You whimpered, the new title falling from your lips naturally, and though he hadn’t answered you, or granted you permission to touch him, he pounced.

His lips collided with yours, sharing the taste of you in the kiss and you moaned at the sensation, your nails reaching up to claw at Lando’s back. His hands where everywhere, grabbing your tits with rough hands, flicking your nipples with calloused skin, gripping your hips with intent to bruise, desperate to leave the evidence of his claim on you. His lips traced the familiar path to your jaw, up to your ear where he sunk his teeth into the lobe, letting his lips brush the shell of your ear as he whispered sweet nothings to you.

Except the sweet nothings tonight were anything but.

“Can’t wait to fill you up with my cum. Watch it drip out of you and then fuck it back into you with my fingers. Gonna make you a mummy, huh? Have you walking around the paddock with my baby in you. That way everyone knows you’re mine and that I was the one that fucked you so good.” The filthy words being fed right into your ear, along with the strong grip on your hips and the rolling of Lando’s hips pressing his bulge into your core was going to make you go feral.

“Fuck me, sir. Put your baby in me please. Wanna be a mummy for you.” You purred, the words rolling off your tongue in waves that sent shivers down Lando’s spine. He leant back, sat back on his haunches as he took in the sight of your body, still trembling slightly from the powerful orgasm. He slowly undid his belt, your eyes trained on the movements his hands made, biting your lip as you got one step closer to seeing his cock, a sight you could and would never tire of. With his belt gripped tightly in his hands, Lando made a decision he would never regret.

He scooped your hands up in one of his, the other holding the belt, and positioned your hands above your head, fingers brushing against the headboard. He looped the belt through the wrought iron, fastening the leather around your hands tight enough to keep them there, but not tight enough to do any damage to you. You tugged on the restraints lightly, pouting when you found there wasn’t enough give to touch Lando while he fucked you into the mattress.

Lando gave the restraints a few investigative tugs, and when there was little movement and he was satisfied with the results, he leaned back, staring down at you yet again. You were starting to think he was getting more enjoyment out of just staring at you than anything else.

With heavy breathing and the occasional squeak of the headboard as you attempted to break free of the belt holding your wrists hostage, Lando finally began removing his sinfully tight black jeans. He pushed them down his legs with a carefree attitude, as though he had all the time in the world, whilst you were squirming around on the bed, desperate to get a look at, a hold of, a taste of what was hidden now by the thin black cotton that stretched over his painfully hard cock.

“If you keep squirming like that, I’ll tie your ankles next to your wrists and fuck you like that. Is that what you want?” Lando growled, pausing in his tantalising show of getting undressed to glare at you. You halted almost immediately, the image of Lando plowing into you while your wrists and ankles were bound together. You gulped, the vision was certainly tempting, however your pussy wouldn’t be able to take such a beating.

“No sir. I’m sorry sir.” You whimpered back, your words sent shocks of electricity through Lando’s body, and having abandoned his teasing display, he tore his underwear off and climbed onto your bed in a hurry.

He wrapped his hand around his cock, pumping a few times and letting out a shuddering sigh. His eyes cut to yours, a blazing fury warming them from the usual cool blue green to a warm green that made your pussy flutter. He slid the tip of his cock through your wet folds, biting his lower lip to contain the moans that were ready to fall past his lips. Your fists clenched around the belt, desperate for something to hold onto.

Lando thrust his hips into yours, burying himself to the hilt in one smooth motion. You both moaned, the sweet relief of finally wrapping your velvety walls around his cock was overwhelming. Quite quickly, Lando set a punishing pace, his hips rolling out of you before snapping back to meet yours, his pubic bone putting delectable pressure on your clit, forcing moans out of your lips at an alarming rate.

His hands held a death grip on your hips, keeping your squirming body in its place while he used your body for his own pleasure. Your moans became louder, his hips forcing his cock deeper into your cunt, but Lando didn’t like that.

“You shut the fuck up and take my cock like a good little slut, yeah?” He spoke, his right hand reaching up to wrap around your throat, his fingers squeezing around the sides. The pressure only added to your mounting pleasure, Lando squeezing intermittently when you let out a particularly loud moan, reducing you to a pile of whimpers and pleas.

His hips began stuttering, the pleasure he was feeling overwhelming the perfect pace he had set. You wrapped your legs around his hips, pulling him further into your hungry cunt, clenching around him like you were trying to pull his entire being into you. And maybe you were, if he kept this up, you were never going to let him out of you again.

“Fuck, I’m so close.” He whimpered, the first show of your usual Lando shining through, his hips moving with a renewed vigor. You couldn’t form words, his cock brushing against your g-spot with each thrust, forcing your body higher up the bed, your arms still bound above your head. The hand around your throat squeezed harder, and for a moment all you saw were stars, the pleasure of your second orgasm ripping through your body like a tidal wave. Each atom in your body was torn apart and stitched back together with the threads of Lando’s hot seed and rough hands.

Lando pulled out of you, watching his cum drip down your thighs for a moment before he jumped from the bed, hurrying into the ensuite as quickly as he could on shaky legs. You could hear the tap running, and after a few moments, he returned with a wet rag and your favourite lotion, leaving the bottle on the side table while he cleaned the mess between your thighs, becoming entranced with the sight for another moment before he finished up, tossing the dirty cloth into the ensuite. Lando crawled up the bed to you, undoing the belt that had begun to rub your wrists raw, and with your finally free hands, you cupped your boyfriend’s cheeks, pulling him into a sweet kiss to stop the steam train of thoughts inevitably running through his head.

With soft hands and caring eyes, Lando began rubbing the lotion onto your red wrists, kissing the skin briefly, then leaving another sweet kiss on your lips.

“Was that okay?” He whispered, insecurity rearing its head yet again, and you couldn’t help but giggle at the nervous look he was giving you.

“More than okay, baby. That was amazing. 10/10 would try again.” You giggled, caressing his shoulders with slow hands, grateful to finally be feeling his skin again.

“Well, I wouldn’t be mad at that. I have some ideas.” Lando replied, a cheeky lilt to his voice as he laid down beside you, pulling the covers up to cover you both.

“Oh, do you now? I’m all ears.”

[austajunk]

Okay. I’m feeling crappy today. So, why not! Let’s talk about TeruTeru Hanamura.

I wanna talk about how well TeruTeru is written and how much I genuinely like him as a balanced character.

And you know, I never really noticed just HOW MUCH I really appreciated TeruTeru in his initial role in the second game of Danganronpa. In my first playthrough, I really was expecting a horrible pervert character that every anime has… and he was! But he was more than that on the immediate surface to me when he offers to run everyone down with oil on the beach in the prologue and Nekomaru chimes in that he would be grateful for it. To which, I was honestly expecting TeruTeru to react with disgust but he joyfully thinks it over and then says “Yeah sure, I’ll give it a go.”

You have to understand. That’s the funniest shit to me. I laughed for a good three minutes at that and made jokes. Like… I related to an actual anime pervert for his curious and dirty nature. I can’t help it.

That being said, is TeruTeru a terrible person? *shrugs* Yup. The guy is a sex monster and reprehensible. I do not approve.

But that never meant I couldn’t like him or that I couldn’t find him amusing or look past that to see some of the other depths of his character. And you know what? TeruTeru is kinda bursting with character.

On the one hand, he’s an utter pervert and constantly sticks his foot in his mouth, creeping out men and women alike even to the point that Kazuichi the renowned Simp can’t help but to feel embarrassed that he talks like that. He’s genuinely cheerful and takes so much pride in his food. Like… so much pride.

“Yummy? Put it this way. My cooking would make dishes that are simply said to be yummy taste like utter shit.”

However, on the other hand, it’s clear that his poor background really do show in his bigger insecurities. He insists and boasts that he’s fancy, that he should be called a chef instead of a cook, quickly proclaims that he’s from fancier neighborhoods. But he’ll also say that great food should never be kept from poor people and on the side, he’s constantly stressed out about a mother at home who’s probably the only one who believed in his abilities and dreams.

You see, the true redeeming feature in TeruTeru is that he’s emotional to his core. He’s scared, but proud so he retreats inward to try and keep things together. His mutters of denial when he finds out his memories have been messed with are easily missable by the audience and the rest of the cast because they’re seemingly played for laughs. But on the inside, he was tearing himself apart to try and find a way to get home and return to his mother. It’s similar to Sayaka’s horrific realization of the first chapter in DR1. “What happened to my home? What happened to my family? And what will happen to me?”

My friend really put this well. The class trials are amazing because it stars two people. Usually the victim and their killer. It puts them onstage. The Imposter takes a secondary seat in the first trial until a bit of the end and for his big reveal in the fifth chapter as to being an Imposter, so our actual two big stars of Class Trial One are Nagito and TeruTeru. Namely the way Nagito tormented a very flawed human being like TeruTeru into becoming a murderer.

And it’s honestly such a good introduction to the game. While Nagito does steal the spotlight, I think people forget TeruTeru’s moral complication and his contribution to this ending. Because on all ends, TeruTeru did bad. He did so very wrong. He lost himself and in the moment, gave in to murder. And he thinks of every way in the book to rationalize it as well.

“I had to stop Nagito.” No. You could have told your classmates what he would do. TeruTeru took advantage of the situation Nagito created. It would have been nice if Nagito was the victim but everyone else would still have died.

“It was an accident.” That can’t fly either. Everything he did, he did on his own with telling no one and still went through the trial not trying to get caught.

And then he explains his situation. How he was so desperate to leave and get off the island. And that situation is dire. It’s something he had to bear alone, isolated, drowning in the fear of not knowing what had happened to his entire life.

“I’m sorry, you guys… I think I’m the one who went a little crazy in the end…”

My heart utterly broke when I heard that. It’s so emotional. So quiet. So accepting before he screams.

His motive of denial and loss is what drives the first trial. He becomes a victim and a killer.

I don’t thing TeruTeru was ever meant to be a likable character. I don’t. I’m fully confident Kodaka (especially after the reaction to Hifumi) knee people would dislike him and would bank on the same people despising him all throughout his trial before he got his flashes of true humanity and empathy.

And we’re left with the truth honestly.

TeruTeru Hanamura is a horrible person, but a person nonetheless. One who loves, cares, and feels very deeply about what he cares about. And even while he may be horrible, he never deserved that or what Nagito and the Killing Game did to him.

And that’s fucking brilliant writing.

[dr4cking]

His Mother’s Garden.

masterlist taglist

draco malfoy x reader | smut | enemies to lovers

a/n : this is so random bye :”

"y/n, come down here for a minute, darling. i have something to tell you" y/n sighed slowly getting up from her lovely bed as she heard her mom called her to come downstairs.

"yes, mother?" her mom greeted y/n with a big smile while her father sitting on the couch, y/n feels like she was going to be interrogated, she grabbed a bottle of water and drink.

"sweetie go pack your stuff and dress nicely, we're going to stay at Malfoy Manor for 3 days." she felt as if her breath got taken away somewhere when she choked on the water, her mother worriedly run to her and smack her back.

"pardon me, mother. but i think i've misheard about what you just said" y/n's mother just chuckled at her daughter's reaction.

"no darling, you heard it right, we're going to stay at their place"

"but why so sudden, mother? you know i hate their son" y/n whines loudly thinking about how awkward it is to spend the day with the malfoys.

"well i met narcissa earlier in gringgots, its been so so long, you know we're very close when we were young, and your dad here is working at the ministry with lucius malfoy too, darling. so we really have to catch up" her mother explained it with her bubbly energy, she did tell y/n how she and narcissa were basically best friends in their time.

"but why do we have to literally stay there? we could've just hung out there and then go back home" y/n frowns, taking a seat beside her father.

"of course not, narcissa is the one who suggested the idea and it would be rude of me to reject it, now dont be a baby and do as i say its only for three days, honey. this is the end of the discussion or we're gonna be late" her mother cupped her cheeks smiling so wide and give her a little kiss on her right cheek before taking her hand and shoved her to go back to her room.

she goes to her room, started to packing while blabbering about her mother, she picked a pleated skirt and putting on a knit sweater, she put on a light makeup and grabbed her sneakers, she doesnt want to dress up so much because she didnt want to go in the first place.

she takes her bag with her going downstairs seeing her parents already waiting at the front door, she huffed.

——————————————

"ah, finally the (your surname)'s here! y/m/n, who is this lovely lady, is this y/n? oh my god, you've grown up" narcissa said as she hugs y/n after she hugged her mother greeting her family, y/n smiles and nod turning the gesture politely.

"lucius, draco! hurry, come here."

both of the platinum blonde-haired men appeared at the door, lucius greet y/n's father, giving y/n a small nod, but draco stayed behind his parents, just looking up and down at y/n smirking making her rolled her eyes at him.

the malfoys lead her family in, showing their room for their stay, the house elves taking their things. as y/n wanted to follow her parents, a hand grabbed her wrist stopping her steps.

she looks up only to meet the boy she loathed so much in their school. draco lucius malfoy.

"not so fast y/l/n" draco pulled her closer, a smirk still plastered on his lips.

"get your filthy hand off of me, ferret. i’m not in the mood." y/n snickered yanking her hand back.

"ooo, feisty. listen y/n, i just want to make a peace for awhile. at least can we try to be civil? i dont want to ruin our parent's moment, and besides that, you're staying in my house, i dont want it to be awkward." draco rubbed the back of his neck staring at her.

"ugh fine, whatever draco" y/n turns and run to follow her parents not wanting to talk to draco for any longer, leaving draco behind who just rolled his eyes at her behavior.

the day goes on so fast, their parents talked and chatted all day, leaving draco and y/n no choice but just to listened and joined their conversation, they both wonder if their parents ever get tired, as the night finally came, everyone already going to their rooms.

y/n wake up from her sleep groaning, she took a look at the clock, it was 2 am.

she rubbed her eyes, her throat feels so dry, she decided to go downstairs to grab a drink before going back to sleep.

"what are you doing at this hour, y/n?" y/n turns around from the refrigerator finding draco who stood behind her with his grey sweatpants. merlin's beard, he looks hot.

"cant you see im drinking, idiot"

y/n close the refrigerator and started to walk back to her room wanting to avoid draco as fast as she can but she only made three steps before draco pushed her against the refrigerator trapping her making y/n let out a squeal.

"you’ve got a big mouth, dont you sweet thing?" draco smirk seeing her flushed face, he pressed his body closer to her making her cheeks heated.

"d-draco i-"

"sshh, cat got your tongue now, hm?" draco rubbed his thumb on her bottom lip, tugging at it making y/n shivered at his touch.

"oh i see you like this, yeah?" draco leans into the crook of her neck, his hot breaths against her neck got y/n to rub her thighs together and draco placed his knee between them keeping her thighs apart.

he starts to pressed kisses along her neck causing her breath hitched, her panties are dampen when she takes a look at his lower part and his hard on brushed against her heat, she let out a soft moan and quickly pushed draco away from her.

"i- i should go" y/n runs to her room, cursing herself, draco behind her just chuckled deeply, satisfied at her reaction, but now he got some problem to take care of.

the next day came, y/n didnt get so much sleep after her last interaction with draco, just thinking about it makes a blush appeared on her cheeks, she threw away the thought of touching herself last night.

she quickly made her way to the bathroom and took a shower.

she just finished showering, putting on a bathrobe and letting off the towel on her head, but as she looked at the mirror, she screamed.

why is her hair green?!

only one name crossed her mind, she runs downstairs to get her target with anger bubbling up inside her.

"draco lucius malfoy! you better come back here! turn my fucking hair back to its color!" y/n yelled, running as fast as she can, catching draco who already ran away from her, without stopping his laughter.

"dont worry y/n, you look good with g-green" draco was panting heavily still laughing, he was still running but stopped at his mother's garden hiding behind it, hoping that y/n didnt catch him here. a smile never leaving his face.

but before draco could react more, he got tackled to the ground, y/n was hovering above him, her wand on his throat, threatening him.

she keeps talking but all he could think about was how hot y/n look on top of him, her new hair color still wet enough to drip the water down to his face, her top of the robe is low enough to show him her cleavage.

he quickly made his eyes back up to her, he would lie if he said this didnt turn him on.

"draco did you hear what i said? turn my hair color back!" y/n pushed his chest back down but her face redden as she realizes what was she doing right now, she quickly gets off of draco but only to be flipped over by him.

y/n was about to say something but got cut off by draco silencing her mouth with a kiss, he kissed her harshly, y/n was still in shock but not for long she melted into the kiss, she wrapped her arms around his neck deepening the kiss, they're practically swallowing each other faces, tongues fighting over the dominance, moans coming off from their lips without breaking the kiss.

memories of last night coming back to their minds.

"fuck- you're so fucking hot. do you want this y/n?" draco said as he pulled away, breathing heavily.

"yes, yes please, draco" with that, draco attached his lips to her neck, sucking and biting making a mark of his.

y/n rolled her hips on his crotch grinding against him making him let out a soft grunt, he pulls away to admire his work and he goes to untie her robe but not before he asked her permission, she nodded vigorously.

draco untied her robe making her body fully exposed in front of him, he moaned softly at the view and his lips instantly latching onto her nipple sucking and pulling it between his teeth softly making the girl squirmed. his other hand grabbed her breast squeezing it, he was amazed at how her breast fit perfectly in his hand.

y/n tugged at his shirt signaling she wants it off, draco gets the hint and takes it off, she pulled his sweatpants down making his hard cock slapped up to his stomach. she whimpered at his size wondering if it gonna fits in her.

draco groaned at the feeling of her hand pumping his cock up and down, her thumb playing at his red swollen tip, precum already oozing out of it. he stopped her hand before he cums right there.

he spreads her legs wider making the perfect view of her glistening cunt in front of him, he licks his lip, started to kiss her thighs before going to her core making her body jolted out.

"draco.. please, do something" draco smirk, he loves how he gets y/n to beg him, she sounds so hot, begging suited her.

he licked up her slit before sucking on her clit, he moaned at her taste, sending vibrations to her body, y/n gripped his hair tightly moaning his name over and over again as draco's tongue thrusting in and out of her hole.

he then inserts two fingers in her and pumping them inside of her fast, curling them inside, his tongue still licking her cunt lapping up her juices, y/n already a moaning mess.

"yes! draco right there! right fucking there.. oh god im gonna-"

of course.

of course he pulled out, right before y/n could ever reach her high leaving her whining and glared at him in anger, draco chuckles looking at her face.

"stop being so fucking greedy, y/n. you only allowed to cum when my cock is buried deep inside you" draco pumps his cock tapping it against her cunt, lining his tip up and down at her clit, y/n gets impatient but draco pushed her hips down to stop her from moving.

he slowly pushed in his entire length inside her, both of them cant help but moaning each other’s name out loud, inch by inch filling her inside. draco stopped to let her adjust as he fully inside her. he wants her to feel every part of him. y/n wrapped her legs around his waist, nodding at him to move.

"god- you're so tight y/n, i cant barely move. do you know how long i've been wanting to have you under me" draco's breath tickling her neck as he buried his face on her neck, slowly picking up his pace as he thrusts in and out of her.

"yes- fuck.. harder draco i want it rough and fast, please" draco was shocked at how y/n think her tight little pussy could take him rough and fast, but he obeyed anyway.

he grabbed her legs, putting them on his shoulder and begin to thrusting harder, rough and fast like she wanted making her cried out at the angle.

"fuck! you're such a slut y/n, letting me fuck you senseless in my mother's garden, dont you scared at the thought of getting caught, hm? oh i bet you would love that, right?" y/n only could mutter a low 'yes' as draco keep pounding at inhumanly pace making her whole body shake.

"what is it? i cannot hear you, my little slut" draco gripped her throat with his hand, pressing their foreheads together as he stared deeply into her soul not even stopping his thrusts.

"y- yes draco im your slut, i'd love tha- g- god please.."

"stop stuttering." draco's hand move down to twirling her nipples in his fingers and pinch them lightly making her yelp.

"draco?"

draco and y/n stopped their activities for a minute, staring at each other in horror, draco smirk down at her while she stared at him in confusion.

he starts to move again, snapping his hips harder, making y/n gasped, he quickly put his hand over her mouth. draco was thankful that the bushes hiding their ungodly activities perfectly.

"yes, mother?" draco said casually as if nothing was happening right now, he quickens his thrust, going deeper and harder into her while a tear rolled down on y/n's face at the feeling of the knot in her stomach tighten and she had to hold her moans.

"what are you doing there, draco?" narcissa asked as she cant found her son anywhere, only hearing his voice.

"im doing some school stuff mother, i'll be quick and head inside" draco answers holding his moans between his words feeling he would cum any sooner, he hoped his mother take the hint and leave already.

like draco expected, narcissa gives him an 'okay' before going back inside the manor but not without the hesitation in her voice but she left anyway.

"fuck.. you almost got us caught y/n" draco chuckles as his hand left her mouth, a loud moan suddenly escaped her lips.

"you're insane draco, why didnt you s- stop- oh my god.. gonna cum"

y/n cried out she cant even finishing her sentence as draco brings his hand down on her clit, rubbing in circles, getting her closer to her high, his other hand going back to choking her, he leaned in to capture her lips to hold his own high, he wanted her to cum first.

and within seconds, y/n came undone, it hit her hard causing her legs to shake, her eyes screwed shut seeing the stars all she could remember was his name when she moaned it out loud.

draco look down at his cock covered with her juices milking him, he moaned loudly and with the last thrust he collapsed on her, spurting out all of his warm thick cum inside her, painting her walls white making the girl moaned too feeling so full.

he moaned her name into her ear sending butterflies to her stomach as he rides out their orgasms. draco pulled out slowly making y/n winced, their mixed liquids dripping down to their inner thighs.

"merlin. that was so fucking hot, y/n" draco said reconnecting their lips, kissing her with passion and emotion this time.

"that was more than being civil, draco" y/n laughs making draco join her laughter too. he starts to dressed himself back up.

"there i thought we were enemies" draco said as he cleaned her up and tying her bathrobe back.

"oh we are, i still hate you" y/n poked his cheek making draco laughed.

"didnt seem like it 5 minutes ago" draco said as he captures her lips on his again as he finished cleaning her.

"round 2 in my room tonight?" draco asks as he pulled away. y/n smirked at him.

"only if you turn my hair color back" and he pulls out his wand from his pocket and swished it turning her hair back to its natural color.

both of them heading back to the manor, feeling excited and new. they stopped at their parents already waiting for them to show up in the living room with a mix expressions worn on their faces making draco and y/n blushed madly.

"im glad we decided to stay." y/n's mother breaking the silence making the room filled with laughter.

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

tagging : @dracoscum :( @hellounicorn @onyourgoddamnleft @whoreforgeorgeandfred @turn-to-page-394-please @youreso-golden @dracmalf0y-dm @f4iryluvy @arzfia @slut4dracoo @alexthealexthealex

[ynbabe]

Truth

Word count: 535

Genre: one-shot

Warnings: none

Pg rating: all ages appropriate

Male pronouns mentioned

It was a good day, why wouldn't it be? The sun was shining, the sky clear, there was no universe ending catastrophe and you all finally had time to rest.

Everyone was in the movie room, Peter was forcing everyone to watch a star trek movie, but no one other than Tony, Y/n and him were paying attention.

Peitro was sitting with a large bowl of popcorn next to clint, both of them comically arguing about something. Bruce was alseep with his glasses on the bean bag with natasha next to him cleaning her knives and guns.

Steve and Bucky were sitting in the corner of the room, the brunette reading a book and the blonde sketching something in his journal, looking down to his russian counterpart who was lying on his lap and then back to his journal again.

Sam was sitting on the hand rest of the sofa, legs folded and his phone in his hands.

Vison sat next to me, his head resting on my shoulder, occasionally whispering a series of 1's and 0's.

Everything felt unreal, but I wouldn't have it any other way.

"Y/n, the movie isn't on Wanda's face," Tony teased the boy sitting next to him, making his face blush. 

I couldn't help but laugh as the young boy hid his face under his hands.

"Y/n, do you need something?" I asked him as everyone went back to doing what they were but he didn't say anything choosing to fidget with his hands instead.

The lights flickered but went back to normal before anyone could notice.

Fifteen minutes passed and nothing changed, not even the sky.

"Stop"

I turned to look at Y/n but no one else seemed to notice his outburst.

"Wanda stop it, please," he got up purple mist floated from his body, " Youre not helping anybody, you're making everything worse." He screamed and walked towards me making me stand up.

"Y/n what are you talking about? I am doing nothing." I answered honestly, I didn't know what was happening.

Why was no one else seeing this, why were they just ignoring him?

"Y/n I- " I started but he interrupted me,

"This is cruel, they don't deserve this, this Earth doesn't deserve this!" He screamed, his voice growing hoarse and eyes turning purple, the veins on his face rising and matching the colour of his eyes and the power eminating from his hands.

I was terrified, "Y/n please, I don't know what you are saying-" I tried to explain but realisation struck my core, "this Earth? Why did you say this Earth?" 

His eyes widened and then narrowed with determination, "because it's your fault mine is gone." he snarled and a wave of energy spread through the room, slowly turning everything to ash revealing the broken walls of the compound.

Tony, Natasha, Peitro were gone, behind me vision faded away.

"What did you do? WHAT DID YOU DO?" Memories tore into my mind, of Thanos, Ultron, Hydra...

Y/n grit his teeth and opened a portal behind him, "I showed you the truth," and disappeared.