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savemefromanepicoftimewasted · 1 year ago

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You Cannot Run From Your Past

Mobster!Simon "Ghost" Riley X F!Reader

The rest of the meal was quiet, save for the noise of knives and forks gently scraping against the ceramic plates. You were thankful for the silence, giving you the opportunity to think about everything that had happened that day. You’d gone from living on the streets to being housed by one of the most dangerous people in the country. a/n:this is a mafia au! so there will be a LOT of violence, MINORS DNI, this is part one of the series, the rest will be linked once posted warnings:mentions of wounds, blood, murder, gore, smut(MAJOR smut) word count:4.5k

Everyone knew who the 141 were, some of the most feared men on this side of the Atlantic. No one with even a single braincell knew to fuck with them. Their leader, Price, had killed men for less than what you were currently kneeling for. You’d gotten caught trying to steal money from one of the henchmen. Your boyfriend had kicked you out of the apartment, after finding out he’d been cheating of course, and now you were homeless. It was either steal from the, what you assumed was dumb, henchman or go hungry for another week until someone took pity on you. So here you were, kneeling before a man who wouldn’t think twice about putting a bullet between your brows.

“Did you really think he wouldn’t notice?” Price was more annoyed than truly angry, he felt some sort of sympathy towards you.

“I thought if I was quick enough he wouldn’t, no.” You were ashamed to admit you thought you could get away with your plan.

“Why were you trying to pickpocket anyway?” Price sat on the edge of his desk, staring down at you.

“Boyfriend, ex boyfriend, kicked me out and I’ve been living on the street for the last couple of months. Got desperate if I’m gonna be honest.” You hadn’t lived in England that long, having moved over from Massachusetts earlier in the year to live with your boyfriend.

God you had felt like such a moron, he’d lured you over with the promise of being able to take care of you, only to dump you out onto the street like trash. Of course he’d at least given the courtesy of telling you about Price and his men first, and yet here you were.

“Soap, take her and get her something to eat, I want to have a chat with the ex.” Your brow furrowed, why the hell did he want to talk with Eric anyway?

A man walked over, the strip of hair down the middle of his skull was slicked down yet looked almost fluffy. He helped you up gently, taking you down to the kitchen where a chef was cooking up something delicious. Your stomach grumbled loudly, leaving you embarrassed as everyone’s heads turned to stare at you. It really had been too long since you’d had a decent meal, not counting the scraps that the cook had given you a few days ago.

“Have a seat lass, eat as much as you’d like.” His voice wasn’t condescending and that you were grateful for, people could be so cruel to the homeless.

The chef dished up a heaping plate of what looked like spaghetti bolognese, the scent of roasted garlic and tomato filled the air. Your mouth was salivating within seconds, but before you could pull the plate closer the chef was sliding a heft piece of cheesy garlic bread on top. Oh my, you had definitely died and gone to heaven if this was going to be the case. You picked up your fork and slid the plate closer. The steam rising from the sauce caused a slight bead of sweat to rise along your browline. You couldn’t be bothered to wipe it away as you dug in, knowing better than to eat as fast as you could lest you get sick.

The flavours burst over your tongue like fireworks, this was definitely the best bowl of pasta you’d ever eaten. You swallowed the forkful you’d just eaten before biting into the garlic bread, nearly moaning at the salty bite of the cheese. This was how Price got to eat on the daily? God you would give anything just to eat like this at least once a month. Half the plate was gone before you came up for a breath, wiping your mouth with the napkin Soap had left by you.

“Would you like some water?” The chef was holding out a glass, his hands now clean that you noticed.

“Oh thank you so much.” You took the glass grateful, gulping down the water until there was nothing left.

You set the glass down next to your napkin, digging in once more to the amazing pasta. Maybe he was letting you eat one final meal before he killed you, there were worse ways to go. At this rate you weren’t going to complain, not since this was the first decent meal you’d had in forever. On the other side of town, you were completely unaware that Price had located your ex Eric and was paying him a personal visit.

Knuckles collided with the skin on his cheek, blood pouring from the wound opened by the ring on Price’s pinky.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Eric could barely lift his head, words slurred as his vision blurred.

“Do you really think I’m that naive? You worked for me, and yet your little friend is trying to steal from one of my men to get herself some food.” Price was beyond enraged, Eric was one of the lower henchmen, someone to clean up his dirty work mainly.

“Fuck, she’s still alive?” Eric screamed in pain as a blade dug into the skin and muscle of his shoulder.

Simon was standing by the door, arms crossed over his chest as he watched Price take care of a mistake he’d made. Though no one but Soap, Gaz, and Price were ever allowed to call him Simon, most people who bore witness to him as Ghost. He was the silent killer, slipping into someone’s apartment with ease and slipping out without leaving a trace behind. He’d had nearly as big a reputation as Price himself, for different reasons of course.

“Yes, she’s still alive, however since I’ve come to find out you’ve been stealing money from me you won’t be around to see any of it.” Eric’s eyes widened in fear, lips parted to beg and plea as Price pulled the trigger.

The gunshot was partially muffled, no one would call the police until Price and Simon had fled the scene, giving him ample time to make it home with an alibi. He began to wonder how you were doing, had you been able to eat and take a shower? Maybe you took a bath and soaked in one of the large tubs he had. It was the least he could do, the only thing Price never did was murder women or children, it was against his code. He’d heard about someone else who took anyone down that crossed their path, he refused to be like that.

Goddamn American’s.

“Make sure all our fingerprints are gone before tonight.” Price didn’t wait to see if Simon listened or not before heading down to his car.

His driver was waiting behind the wheel, nodding when Price muttered the word ‘home’. He hadn’t planned on getting messy today, but sometimes things happened that he couldn’t control. It would be less paperwork in the long run, he’d just transfer the money from Eric’s account to one for you. Maybe he could get Kyle to do it, he’d been itching to do something for the last few weeks anyhow.

“We’ve arrived sir.” Alex pulled the car into the garage, knowing better than to open the door for Price.

“Thank you, why don’t you take the rest of the night off? If I need your assistance I’ll call.” Price slipped out of the back of the car and headed inside to look for you.

The sound of two people arguing caught his attention, he could make out Soap’s voice right away, but the other wasn’t one he was quite familiar with. As he turned the corner the picture before him nearly had him laughing. You were standing across from Soap, freshly showered in what looked to be a pair of Soap’s pajamas, arguing about desserts.

“Brownies are clearly the superior choice! You just have horrible taste!” Soap scoffed, rolling his eyes at your bratty attitude.

“Tha’s a lie!” Soap was ready to argue his point on why the chocolate chip cookies were better.

“That’s because you have horrible taste! Even the chef agrees the brownies were better.” You refused to back down, ignoring the way Soap’s chest was heaving.

Price had stopped in the doorway, snickering at the way the two of you were acting like complete children. It was a nice change of pace, and with how his night had gone it was a pleasant surprise to come back to.

“You’re back! I just wanted you to know that your chef is amazing and makes some of the best bolognese I’ve ever had before.” Your stomach was still full, slightly aching with everything you’d eaten.

“Glad to know the food was up to your standards, you settling in alright?” Price kept his hands hidden, knowing his knuckles were bloody and bruised.

“I am, I honestly don’t even know how to thank you for everything.” You were afraid he would still kill you, especially since you’d spent the last hour arguing with his henchman Soap.

He brushed you off, assuring you that you didn’t need to worry about repaying him right then, he could find a way for you to work for him if needed. Maybe you could do the finances, it was an easy enough job for you to do, it would keep you housed and fed as well. You were quite attractive as well, he could take you to any fancy party as his arm candy.

“How well are you with money?” It sounded like such an odd question.

“I worked in finance in the US, so I’m decent.” You didn’t want to say who your employer used to be, lest it cost your life.

“Perfect, you’ll work for me, if that’s alright.” Price raised a brow questioningly.

Your jaw dropped open, nodding quickly to confirm that yes, you would absolutely be alright working for him. It would get you off the streets at least, though working for someone so dangerous was nothing new to you. Maybe you could get an apartment nearby, something that wasn’t infested with termites like your ex's place.

“We’ll get you started tomorrow, the first matter of business is taking you shopping so you can look presentable for meetings.” Wait, you weren’t going to have to be around him 24/7, were you?

“I’m sorry sir, I’d be going to meetings with you?” For some reason the thought unnerved you, what if things backfired and you ended up dead this time?

“Yes, is that going to be a problem?” Price turned to face you, brow raised slightly.

“No, not at all sir.” It was time to keep your mouth shut and do whatever was told, Price was a very dangerous man.

You only had a couple minutes to prepare before Price, along with Soap, were dragging you out to one of the many cars that sat in his garage. Soap would be driving wherever you wanted to go, money not an issue to make sure you would look flawless. Designers were a waste of money, sure having the logo would make heads turn, but thousands for a piece of cloth? Ridiculous.

Price insisted you buy things that at least looked professional, since you seemed to be so against letting him purchase things for you. Soap even tried to interject and get you to agree with Price’s demands, saying it was better not to argue. You wanted to stand your ground and refuse, until you caught sight of a gorgeous dress. There’d be no reason to wear it, but by god did you need to have it at that moment. So you relinquished and gave permission to price to choose things for you, as long as you could get that dress.

He agreed happily, choosing things and letting you find your size so as not to make you uncomfortable. It was nice, knowing that you would be able to get all these new clothes without the stipulation you would need to sleep with him. Your ex would constantly hold gifts and such over your head so you would sleep with him. And yet he’d still had the nerve to cheat and throw you out.

“Awfully quiet sweetheart.” Price turned his head to face you, noticing the way your brow had furrowed.

“Just thinking about the past is all.” You merely shrugged, there was no use in being upset over things you couldn’t change, but it still stung.

“Well, why don’t you tell me about it?” Price had turned to face you fully, attention focused on everything you had to say.

The words turned to ash in your mouth, could you tell him the truth about the type of person you were? How you’d helped someone murder so many innocent people that dared cross his path just by simply existing?

“Do you want the basic rundown, or all the nitty gritty?” You had only ever told one person about your childhood, you’d hoped to never run into him again.

“Everything, spare no detail.” Oh, well this was going to be a long day.

The words slipped out with ease, telling Price everything, from how your father was physically abusive, to how your mother tried to use you for her own benefit. You had run away at fifteen, working odd jobs before you met your old boss at eighteen. He kept you housed, fed, and clothed from when you turned eighteen to a few months shy of when you left entirely. You’d seen things most people who’d gone off to war never dealt with. It was a horrible reminder of how much you’d had to give up just to survive.

“You worked for someone else, someone important..who.” Though it was a question, Price knew exactly who you’d worked for.

“James Barnes, sir.” Your heart was racing, no one except for James, and his right hand woman, Natasha, knew about you.

Price’s expression darkened, causing your heart rate to spike suddenly as you realized how badly you’d fucked up. Would this be the end for you? Having admitted to working for what was essentially his rival?

“How long?” Price could use any information you had on the other man, especially if it meant getting ahead.

“Over ten years, took me in when I was barely eighteen.” It was the truth, you’d basically grown up alongside James.

“And you don’t by any chance know some things that could be useful to me?” It was a loaded question, do you tell him how James had a son he cared so much about. Or how his best friend for over twenty years had cut off all contact after he’d heard of what became of him?

“I’ll tell you everything over dinner.” It was a proposition. You give him information, he gives you anything you could ever ask for.

Soap smirked to himself, pulling down the long road that led to Price’s luxurious home. You would fit in quite nicely with everyone.

Price had everything brought to your room, the closets stuffed full of all your new clothes, shoes, and even the few accessories you picked out. It was nice, knowing you were going to be alright as long as you didn’t step on anyone’s toes. As you made your way down to the kitchen you noticed someone else talking to Price. He was big, arms large enough to crush your skull(though you’d probably thank him). Something about him seemed so familiar though, as if you’d run into him many times before.

“Ready to eat?” Price turned away from the stranger, gesturing to the expansive table.

“I am, thank you so much for all of this, I don’t think I’ll ever be able to repay you.” You walked over and sat down, if the food was even half as good that lunch was, you would die happy.

Soap and another man you’d never met before walked into the kitchen, taking their own seats alongside the newcomer. The chef brought out the first course, a delicate butternut squash soup with crusty pieces of bread to dop. You nearly moaned at how silky the soup was, making sure not to slurp and disturb anyone else. The bread had a slight bite to it, the crust just hard enough to soak in the buttery goodness without becoming soggy.

“So, what can you tell me?” Price had finished his soup, sipping on the glass of bourbon that had been brought out along with his food.

“James is someone that’s highly feared in most of the states, word spreads like wildfire and they’re all too afraid to say anything bad about him.” You took another bite of the bread, taking a moment to collect your emotions.

“His best friend Steve hasn’t spoken to him since they were teens, he’d found out about James joining the mafia and just disappeared one day.” You’d witnessed the way Steve had torn the other man apart, it was gut wrenching to watch.

You felt bad for James at that moment, he no longer had his family, and now the one person he could rely on was gone as well. Natasha was the closest thing he had to family anymore, and last you knew they were still friends.

“He has a son, named after himself of course, goes by JJ. Last I knew his son was nearly thirteen and was living solely with his dad.” You sighed softly, grabbing your glass of water to take a sip.

“Surprised he had the time to knock someone up.” Soap mumbled into his food, ignoring everything else entirely.

“Johnny, what did we talk about?” Price stared at the other man like a disappointed father.

“No talking shit at dinner.” Soap, or was it Johnny?

You tried to hide your smile, a soft giggle slipping through as you finished your bowl of soup. Soap looked affronted, how dare you laugh at him being scolded by Price as if he was a child, very uncool.

“Before we continue with our conversation, I’d like to introduce Gaz, and Simon.” Price gestured to the two men sitting across from you.

You were shocked that someone as stunning as Gaz was working for him and not as a runway model, he could bring people to tears with his beauty. Simon wasn’t glaring at you per se, more like he was trying to decipher you. There was something about him that made you want to stare back, but you thought better of it and focused your attention back onto Price.

“Nice to meet you both, I met Soap earlier and his horrible taste in snacks.” Gaz couldn’t help but laugh at your statement.

“Thank you! He’s always had the worst taste imaginable.” Gaz was definitely going to become a good friend, you could sense it.

“Shut up!” Soap threw his hands up, arms crossing over his chest with a huff.

“You do mate, it’s all out of love.” Gaz slapped a hand on his shoulder, laughing when Soap rolled his eyes.

The chef brought out the entree before anymore conversation could continue, a beautifully seared filet mignon with roasted fingerling potatoes and caramelized carrots. You wanted to dig in almost instantly, waiting until everyone had their plates before slicing into the meat. It melted like butter on your tongue, washing over your taste buds as if it were made by god himself.

“Alright, as I was saying earlier about James. He’s a very paranoid man, comes with the territory when you’ve slaughtered as many people as he has. So unless you have a reason to do business with him you won’t be able to get close. I’ve watched him murder a man for less before, and that’s the last thing I want to see ever again.” You cut apart one of the potatoes, popping the half into your mouth.

“So, what you’re saying is that if I need to take care of him, we need someone on the inside.” Price had a point, but James would see it coming a million miles away.

“Partially, but James would see that coming a mile away. You want someone he’s close with, a loved one, or a best friend that knows his every move and can get you the information.” You kept your eyes on your plate, not noticing the way all eyes were suddenly on you.

“And, do you know someone that could do this?” Price was asking something dangerous, sure you knew plenty of people that could, and had reason to kill James, but none of them were willing.

“The only man that would ever want to take him out would be Tony Stark, man’s had it out for him since he found out James had his parents murdered.” It had been the final straw that sent you packing.

“Hmm, I’ll have to give him a look see later.” Price dug into his own food, ignoring the way Simon seemed to still be staring at you.

“He’s a dangerous man, nearly had me killed just for walking on his property one day.” You rolled your eyes, stabbing your potato with more force than necessary.

Simon raised a brow, watching how you seemed to become annoyed at even mentioning Tony’s name. Whoever this man was clearly had a vendetta against you, and you as well for him. That’s how this type of world worked, you were either with or against the people you considered the villains. You seemed to fit in so well that Simon couldn’t be bothered to second guess any of it, not when Price welcomed you in with open arms.

“Have to be precautious, comes with the territory darling.” Price merely shrugged, he’d always kept one eye open no matter what, but some people were just paranoid.

“Yeah, I guess. Didn’t make my life any easier when I was trying to get out of New York though, I swear James has men everywhere.” You’d almost been caught twice before finally boarding the plane to safety.

The rest of the meal was quiet, save for the noise of knives and forks gently scraping against the ceramic plates. You were thankful for the silence, giving you the opportunity to think about everything that had happened that day. You’d gone from living on the streets to being housed by one of the most dangerous people in the country. This was definitely a dream, you were going to wake up in the morning and find yourself under that bridge with everyone else. It wasn’t the first time you’d had this dream only to wake up to reality. Though it usually landed you back in the US and not over in London.

“I’ll be in my office if anyone needs me, goodnight.” Price nodded towards everyone before leaving the table.

You weren’t sure if you were allowed to head to bed or not, after the day you’d had your body was begging for sleep. Soap’s clothes, while a little oversized, were definitely going to be comfortable enough to sleep in. Gaz immediately pulled Soap into a conversation, discussing something that sounded like an entirely different language to you at that moment. You gave Simon a quick nod before leaving the table and heading up to your new room. The only light was from the moon, illuminating the room in a soft ethereal glow.

Throwing back the covers on the mattress you crawled into the plush bed, groaning softly at how soft the comforter was. It felt as if you were laying on a cloud, even with the crisp air the blankets were just warm enough to keep you comfortable. Your eyes slipped closed before you could even try and fight them, slipping into dreamland.

Downstairs Soap, Gaz, and Simon were all sitting around the table. Soap had tried to pull Simon into the conversation only to be shot down immediately. Simon couldn’t explain it, but something about you drew him in. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt this way, always pushing away the prospect of dating as if it was a deadly disease. Soap would catch on to his sudden fixation on you, man was like a bloodhound when it came to women. The very last thing that Simon wanted, or needed, was Soap getting on his ass about you. He couldn’t get a proper read on you, there was something you weren’t telling everyone. And Simon was determined to find out every tiny thing.

Meanwhile in New York

James was angry, nearly panting as he paced the foyer of his penthouse. How the hell had you managed to slip through his fingers so easily? He’d had eyes on you for so long, and yet you’d managed to get to fucking England. Natasha had been the one to break the news to him, stance stoic as the words sunk into his bones. You were gone, and now there was a high chance that you’d managed to get yourself killed. James knew all about Price and his little minions, the fucker was slowly taking control of more countries.

“We need to locate her, now.” James kept his back to Natasha, the only person he ever trusted.

“I’ve reached out to my informants, they’re scouring every nook and cranny to find her. Last we knew her boyfriend was killed.” Shit, if they’d gotten to someone you were dating, you were definitely next.

“You mean that little shit convinced her to leave, and someone got to him before me?” James’ tone was deadly, venom lacing each word.

“It appears so, they’re claiming his death was a suicide, but the autopsy showed facial wounds caused by something small but sharp.” Natasha had seen the photos, it was pretty clear what had caused the superficial wounds.

He sighed softly, stepping away from the floor to ceiling windows to fully face Natasha who was watching him closely. James was the type of man to take out anyone that stood in his way of something he wanted. She could never figure out why James seemed to be so infatuated with you when you’d never shown any interest. You were friendly with him of course, but there had never been romantic feelings. Had he been trying to replace Steve’s friendship with you? It was the only thing that made any sense.

“Why don’t we make a quick little trip across the pond, there’s some people I’ve needed to visit anyway.” James smirked, reaching up to slick back his hair gently.

“I’ll call Scott and make sure the plane is ready in the morning.” Natasha turned away from him, pulling out her phone to make a quick call.

Who in the world did James know that lived over in England? The last she’d heard about that was when she’d had someone killed in their apartment for stealing money. Her phone pinged with a new message, a name she’d never expected to see again flashing before her.

Steve Rogers: We need to talk.

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levi-my-beloved · 3 years ago

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Birds of a Feather

Chapter 4

Parings: Canon!Levi x F!Reader

Content Warnings: Violence, torture, this one gets a little spicy y’all, descriptions of sexual acts, hints of abuse (please let me know if i’ve missed any)

Word Count: 14.8K

Summary: You were the most notorious criminal in The Underground City. With your organisation of highly skilled professionals, only one man could take you down. He also happened be be Humanity’s Strongest... and your ex.

Previous Chapter

First Chapter

A/N: well, you guys wanted it all in one post! this is by far the longest chapter, yet, and possibly the longest chapter in the entire fic maybe? i’ve caught myself up now with the progress of writing, since i’ve only completed one part of the next chapter so chapter 5 won’t be out within the next three days like these last four have been. i’m thinking i’ll need maybe a week? not sure, but the next part has a little flashback section which i hope you’ll all enjoy!

god these a/n’s are really long aren’t they? asdfghjkl sorry i’ll make the cut off now. hope you enjoy!!!

𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔

Whether it had been thirty minutes or thirty years, you couldn’t tell. Struggling to stay conscious as the four soldiers brought your limp body back to your cell. Your legs no longer work, gathering dust as they drag across the ground. Your abdomen and back were on fire. You were convinced. They had simply thrown you into hell to cook for a bit before dragging you back out. There was no other explanation. Other than the countless, seemingly endless beatings you had just taken. Whether your legs were tired or if your spine was broken, you couldn’t tell as they tossed you back behind bars, removing the rope around your wrists. You didn’t have the strength to fight back. Didn’t have the strength to even raise your head as they left.

Broken, split ribs sent agonising jolts of pain as you shifted in a lame attempt to curl up into a ball. You hadn’t cracked like they’d wanted you to. You hadn’t screamed, cried, begged them to stop. And you wouldn’t. When they came back for you, you would hold your tongue once again. You had never broken in the past. Whether you’d been compromised during an assault on a rival gang, or whether it was one of your mentor’s training exercises to get you used to torture. You had never broken.

You weren’t about to start now.

Still, the throbbing in your body prevented you from sleeping. You didn’t know what time it was. Time had escaped you during that ordeal. You didn’t even know what time of day it was, pretty sure it was night when they had come for you.

Fuck, your body ached. But you knew comfort was a long way from here. It always seemed so far away from where you were. Did you ever have comfort?

You lay there for god knows how long, seconds turning to minutes, minutes to hours. Hours could have turned to days for all you knew.

When the now familiar echo of footsteps reached your ears, you didn’t move. You didn’t care. Whoever it was could rot in hell for all you cared. Wishing death upon these fucking soldiers was the only thing keeping you from giving up right now.

“The bed not good enough or something?” Levi. Shit. The one person you didn’t want to see you like this.

You didn’t answer, choosing instead to try and count as many marks on the wall as you could. It helped to keep your focus off the dull throbbing coursing through your body.

“Oi, ‘you seriously still asleep? It's almost midday,” the singing of metal caused you to wince slightly as he rapped on the bars in an attempt to wake you from a sleep you weren’t in.

“Get the fuck u—” You had a vague idea what caused him to stop his impending barrage of insults you knew were about to flutter effortlessly from his mouth, and you couldn’t tell if you were thankful or not. On the upside, you didn’t have to hear whatever colourful language he was about to spew. On the downside…

“What happened to you…?” it was the second time he’d asked that question, but from the tone of his voice, you could tell this was less a passing thought and more of a question prompted by horror.

Levi froze. His breath caught in his throat. He had expected you to be awake by now. To be up, with that crooked, cocky smile on your face. In fact, he’d half expected you to be leaning against the wall, the door flung wide open as you twirled the keychain around your finger, simply begging him to ask you how you’d done it.

The last thing he expected to see was you, on the floor, curled into a ball. The shirt on your lower back riding up enough for him to see violent, deep purple bruises, blood steadily streaming from your spine and lower back.

Still you refused to answer, or even move. Filthy fucking soldiers, you fucking hated every last one of them. How fucking dare they? How dare they string you up like a piece of drying meat. They had no idea what you’d been through. What you’d had to do to survive. How dare they assume.

And yet,

And yet there was still that little voice in your head. That little kernel of doubt, convincing you that you deserved this. You had killed so many. So much blood was on your hands.

You deserved this.

You didn’t even notice Levi had entered your cell until a hand rested upon your shoulder.

“(Y/N)—”

“Don’t fucking touch me,” your reaction was instant. Instinctual. Immediately wrenching out of his hand, throwing yourself forward. A yelp escaped your mouth without your permission, fire igniting in your body as you moved so suddenly. It caused you to falter in your movements, landing harshly on your side. “Shit!” your voice broke as you yelped, agony flaring in your entire midsection, hand flying to clutch your side as you backed up against the wall. “Don’t fucking touch me,” there was no conviction in your voice. It was more of a plea than anything. If you had raised your head to look at him, maybe you would have laughed at his expression of twisted shock.

But instead you let your hair fall in front of your face, masking your own expression. Teeth grit in silent pain, eyes screwed shut.

Levi’s worry turned to outright unsettling fear. Over the last two days, he’s witnessed you more broken than he’s ever seen you before. He remembered sitting up with you after you’d woken from one of your nightmares. The two of you sitting on the floor against the wall, sharing a cup of tea to not waste resources. He’d seen you angry. He’d seen you upset. But he’d never seen you shattered.

“(Y/N)...” you’d forgotten how soft his usual bored voice could sound. Even after yesterday, you hadn’t heard that tone from him in years. It was borderline unnatural.

It prompted you to raise your head ever so slightly, glaring at him through thick, matted (H/C) strands. You refused to let your guard down, even though the sight of him squatting before you, eyebrows gently creased with suppressed worry almost made you relax. But you weren’t about to be taken away and tortured again.

Any scrap of trust that may have manifested yesterday during the carriage ride and your conversation had been crushed.

“Get away from me,” you looked feral, bearing your teeth animalistically as you snarled. Though it didn’t seem to deter him. He knew a dog only bared its teeth when it was wounded, fearing to be hurt further.

Levi sighed through his nose as he stood. You flinched at his movement and watched as he made more of a conscious effort not to startle you. Your eyes squinted in suspicious confusion as he took a small cloth from his pocket and started running it under the tap.

It seemed the faucet did work. Good to know.

Returning to squat in front of you, his eyes flickered from your face to your abdomen.

“Show me,” he instructed gently, and you almost obeyed him. Almost.

“Go fuck yourself,” you spat instead, bringing your knees closer to your aching body. If you hadn’t been trained to withstand pain, you would have cried out as your abdomen begged you to stop constricting your muscles.

“I’m trying to help,” your ears caught the slight irritation in his tone, but you didn’t care. He could kick you for all you care.

Actually, you really didn’t want him to do that.

“I don’t want your help,”

“You need it.”

“Burn in hell, Levi,” it was the first time you’d actually used his name since you said it back when they first apprehended you, and Levi couldn’t deny that it cut deep. A sentiment he masked with a frustrated exhale. Clearly he’d expected resistance. Either that or he was just as tenacious as he used to be.

“Well, I'm definitely not going up,” he responded, that same softness in his tone and despite your situation, you couldn’t help the slight huff of amusement. It seemed to put him at ease too, content you weren’t about to lunge for his throat.

Slowly, you uncurled from your position, visibly wincing as your torn, beaten muscles relaxed. Levi took this as permission to inch closer and you felt a small appreciation for his trepidation.

Still, you couldn’t help but flinch every time he moved too fast. A simple reflex stemming from your training. It wasn’t really something you thought about, but it prompted the raven haired man to freeze every time you moved.

You refused to meet his eyes as he gently lifted the fabric of your shirt, hearing his breath hitch slightly.

“Holy shit…” He breathed. You hadn’t seen how bad your body was damaged, but judging by his reaction;

It sure as hell wasn’t good.

Levi felt he could kill someone. Actually, a lot of someones. Shit, when he finds out who was responsible for this he would make sure they wished they were never born. The same rage he felt when seeing you flinch for the first time once again coursed through his veins, and this time, he didn’t think he could just let it simmer.

“Who did this to you?” you blinked, his question caught you off guard. Didn’t he know? How didn’t he know? Surely every soldier in the damn military would revel in the idea of you being tortured all night. You clenched your jaw, refusing to respond. You didn’t know why you were being so stubborn. Maybe it was the sheer principle of not wanting to show any sort of weakness in front of him.

In fact, now you thought about it, it was definitely that. Whether Levi sensed it or not, he chose not to press you for an answer. Perhaps he did already know.

You hissed as the cold, damp cloth gently soothed your inflamed skin, glancing back to his face. You hated the way his focussed expression calmed your heart. Loathed how that crease in his eyebrows eased your whirling thoughts. Despised how, from this angle, you could see just how annoyingly attractive he had become.

“Can you move?” he asked, silver eyes rising up to meet your own. The low torchlight highlighted the heus of deep blue you knew he had hidden away. You pretended you looked away because you couldn’t stand the sight of his face, rather than the reality.

You were far too tempted to lean up and capture his lips.

“Yes,” Levi couldn’t tell if you were lying, shifting slightly to help you move but stopping immediately when you flinched away.

“Lie on the bed,” for the first time in ten years, you were compelled to follow an order. You weren’t even obedient towards Viper most of the time. But nonetheless, you found yourself struggling to your feet, an arm braced on the wall behind you.

Clearly respecting your independence, Levi took a step back, allowing you to find your own way. If you weren’t slightly delirious from the pain, you would have missed a kernel of respect flashing in his expression, before he swiftly turned away, washing the cloth again as you collapsed onto the so-called ‘mattress’ with a hiss.

Levi rung the small cloth out onto the floor, focussing on the way the droplets collided with the stone, rather than the way every movement you made caused you obvious pain. Once again, every fibre of his being was screaming at him to cradle you in his arms and whisper soft nothings into your ear. He wanted you to fall asleep next to him, your face buried in the crook of his neck. He craved to feel your soft hair through his fingertips, gently coercing you into dreams. It hurt so much that he could see you, but he couldn’t have you.

Turning to face away from him, you once again shrivelled into a ball. You didn’t want this. You didn’t want any of this. You just wanted to be left alone. But the dip in the bed behind you told you that wasn’t an option right now, muscles tensing on instinct.

he didn’t ask for permission this time as gentle fingers gripped your shirt, dragging up to reveal your brutalised back. If you could see his expression, you might have even been afraid. Darkness shrouded his face, teeth grit in utter hatred. A muscle in his jaw twitching from the effort of clamping his mouth so tightly.

His first touch felt like you’d been shocked by the static that built up on the bed clothes. The damp cool gliding across the welts and bruises across your back. Balling your hands into fists, you refused to make any sound. Still having the mindset of not wanting to give anyone the satisfaction of hearing you in pain. It was a mindset you didn’t think would leave you for a while.

Levi worked in silence, allowing you to settle and almost relax after a while. You wanted to trust him, but you didn’t. Not really. However, right now, you trusted him not to hurt you further. Simply content to relish in the way he soothed the pain. It didn’t come naturally. Every time he pressed too hard it took all your strength not to lunge for his throat, but he would stop upon hearing your sharp intake of breath, waiting for you to settle before continuing.

After what seemed like an eternity of silence, you finally broke it with a question that had been budding in your mind.

“Why are you doing this?” your voice came out a rasped whisper, almost as if you hadn’t used your vocal chords for weeks. You were sure he wasn’t going to answer, opting instead to simply continue to clean your bruises. Another blanket of quiet had settled over the two of you before he responded.

“I don’t know,” he lied. Levi wasn’t sure why he lied. Honestly, he thought it was obvious enough. He still cared about you. So fucking much. It burned him to see you in so much pain. He’d never felt the mind numbing fury he felt when he saw what they’d done to you.

You weren’t really happy with the answer. If anything, it simply gave you more questions. But you were too tired to press for more. Almost too tired to notice when he’d stopped. Pulling your grimy shirt back down to your waist, you felt the mattress rise as he stood. You didn’t turn. You couldn’t turn. After the night you’d had, the exhaustion from the last 24 hours finally catching up on you.

Noticing how you were almost already asleep, Levi decided to throw caution to the wind.

You felt a soft caress through your dirt ridden hair, the action sending a pleasant buzz through your system. It was an action so familiar to the both of you, you wondered why you kept flinching away from his touch when all it did was gently drain you of energy.

“Sleep.”

You didn’t have time to contemplate his tone before the comforting nothingness claimed you.

꧁ꨄ꧂

Levi hadn’t been this angry in a long, long time. Sure, he’d been annoyed. When a solider made a stupid mistake or when a cadet didn’t know how to clean properly. But he hadn’t been this furious in years.

Maybe since the deaths of Isobel and Farlan.

It was obvious when Levi was in a bad mood. Sweeping through the headquarters like a storm. Cadets could almost feel his presence before they saw him, swiftly making themselves busy as he paid no attention to any of them. He had one goal in mind. One destination. And he didn’t even knock when he got there.

“Out. Now.” it wasn’t an order to disobey. When he opened the door to Erwin’s office, revealing a small meeting, Levi didn’t think twice to dismiss them, even if they were his superiors.

“Levi, what’s—”

“If you know what’s good for you, you’ll all leave the room for the next half an hour. Maybe longer depending on how this conversation goes,” his swirling eyes met Erwin’s and he swore he could detect the slightest fear in the man’s gaze.

Good.

He should be afraid.

Without so much as a mutter of goodbyes, the squad leaders and section commanders all dispersed, leaving the Captain alone with the Commander.

Erwin was the first to break the heavy silence.

“I’m assuming this is about Raven?” his voice didn’t waver, seeming to have regained his composure from the initial shock. But Levi wasn’t here for a dainty conversation. The unbridled rage pulsing through his bloodstream clouded his vision, almost seeing red.

“Did you know?”

“Levi—”

“Did. You. Know?” Levi hardly ever raised his voice. Usually it was only out in the field or on a mission, and that was only because it was easier to communicate that way. Keeping his bored, flat tones when slicing open the nape of a titan didn’t seem possible.

Erwin pinched the bridge of his nose, letting out a deep, defeated sigh.

“Yes. I knew. But Levi, you have to understand—”

“I don’t have to understand jackshit. Don’t you think she’s been through enough? She’s led a life being treated like an animal and now you’re allowing her to be beaten like one?”

“It’s necessary, Levi.”

“It’s barbaric!” Erwin had never heard such venom in his voice. Not even when he vowed to kill him all those years ago. He’d seen Levi’s rage. Witnessed it from afar. The way he tore through flesh like it was paper.

Never did he think he would be on the receiving end. Leaning forward, the blonde folded his arms against the desk, clearly conflicted.

“I know this is a difficult subject for you. You two grew up in the same environment, it would only be natural for you to care for her,” the conniving bastard. Levi borderline snarled at the statement. He did care for you. Deeply. But Erwin didn’t need to know that.

“But please listen. As I mentioned before, ties between the Military Police and the Survey Corps are taut. Any discord between us would cause them to snap. I already tightened them further by not allowing them to execute her publicly. I thought if she joined the Scouts instead, not only would we gain an asset, but she would also be able to survive. That didn’t sit well with Niles. He wants her to pay for what she’s done. If not by death, then by various other methods. This was the only way to keep both parties happy, Levi. Trust me,” Levi was starting to lose what trust he had in the man.

Whilst yes, his explanation made sense, it still didn’t sweeten the blow. How long would this go on for? Would they take you everyday, or just some days? How badly would they hurt you?

As if able to read his mind through his knife-like glare, Erwin continued.

“It’s only for this week. Whilst she’s in her cell. They don’t have permission to permanently damage her, only—”

“Only break her ribs and crack her sternum. Yeah, I saw,” he responded bitterly, folding his arms as he leant against the door. Fuck this. Fuck him. Fuck them.

Levi had never been so conflicted. Whilst the sight of you, beaten and broken, had shattered him, he also knew it was for your own good. It was this, or death.

He didn’t like the second option much.

But the memory of what they had done had burned into his skull. Running his fingers down your prominent, bruised spine. So fragile, but so goddamn strong. Muscles spread disproportionately about your abdomen and shoulders. Your stomach was concave for fuck sakes. And they were still beating the shit out of you.

It made him wonder. If he wasn’t so lucky…

Would he have received the same treatment?

Would he have been thrown in a cell and tortured for a week?

He doubted it.

Erwin waited for Levi to gather his thoughts. Waited for him to say whatever he was going to say next. He had expected Levi to find out. Had expected the man to have some sort of reaction, but nothing quite to this extent. Maybe there really was something deeper between you and him that Levi was keeping to himself.

“So this will continue for a whole damn week?” Levi asked, almost exasperated, running a hand through his obsidian locks. This was a nightmare. All of it. Nobody deserves this treatment. Not even Kenny, but especially not you.

It was Erwin’s slow nod that had his stomach dropping.

“Yes,” he replied quietly. “This will continue for the whole week.”

That was all Levi needed to hear. Whether it was right or wrong, he was powerless to stop it. Turning on his heel and heading back down the halls to his office, he tried to push the images of your broken body and spirit from his mind. Maybe he was hoping you were the same bright eyed, mischievous woman you were before he lost you ten years ago. How had so much changed since then?

How much had you changed so much since then?

He no longer saw that spark of life in your eyes. No longer able to bask in your genuine smile.

If he hadn’t seen so many young, hopeful souls shattered by the paralysing fear of facing a titan, or the desperate heartache of losing a loved one, he’d be surprised.

But he wasn’t. Not at all. Who knows what you have had to do to survive? Who knows just how much of yourself you’d had to sacrifice to get where you are now. But he wouldn’t accept that you were gone.

He would never accept that.

But from the looks of you, only a small fragment of your true self remained. Levi thought he was over being hurt by the changes in people he somewhat cared about.

Maybe he was wrong.

꧁ꨄ꧂

The week was gruelling. Taken from your cell at night and being subjected to both physical and mental torture was one of the toughest things you’ve faced. It was brutal, having to fortify both your mind and body nightly against the blows from the MPs. Sometimes it would change. Sometimes the original four switched out. Sometimes they had an observer. But every time was horrific.

You were sure you’d be dead by now if Levi didn’t visit daily to soothe your broken and cracked bones. If he didn’t ask his monotonous questions, all of which you either responded to with something sarcastic, or silence.

Very few times you actually gave a real answer.

Unlike this time.

“How did you get that scar?” It was always the question he started with. Always wanting to know what happened to you during the time he was away, and that scar down your right eye.

“Don’t you ever get tired of asking that question?” you huffed, tucking your elbows beneath your head.

“Don’t you ever get tired of not answering it?” since you’d seen him everyday since you arrived, you were beginning to relearn all the tells you knew he had, but had changed over time. For example, this smallest lilt in his voice when he found something amusing. He waited for your body to stop twitching as you laughed silently, before resuming the treatment of the damp cloth.

“Not really, it’s fun listening to you get more and more frustrated.”

“As charming as ever, Raven.”

You didn’t know how you felt about him using your alias rather than your name. You knew you’d asked him to, or rather, harshly told him to, but he’d used your actual name a few times since then. But you didn’t want to ask, not wanting him to feel uncomfortable.

You let the quiet blanket the two of you, debating whether or not to answer. You’d refused him everyday, but as more time passed, the more you remembered just how much you’d loved him.

“There was a rival gang in the neighbourhood next to ours. Always fighting us for territory or supplies. Honestly, I wanted them wiped out, but Prongs insisted that would make us far too many powerful enemies,” Levi had paused as you started the exposition, genuinely surprised you’d actually decided to give him a full answer, rather that the usual “I entered a sword headbutting contest” or something equally as ridiculous.

“We were at each other’s throats for years, never really landing a solid hit on the other’s gang, until the bastard managed to take one of my Shadows, Diablo, alive. I owed those people everything. They took me in when you—” you managed to stop yourself, but not fast enough for Levi to avoid feeling the gut punching guilt he felt whenever you accidentally mentioned him leaving. You really didn’t mean to, you were just used to talking more openly about it.

“Uh, sorry. Yeah, they took me in, so I owed them a lot. Plus, I’d known them for years by now. I trusted them and they trusted me. I wasn’t about to abandon her,” Levi could hear your conviction and resolve in the cadence of your voice, and silently wondered when you’d become so strong. He’d almost forgotten he was supposed to be treating you badly damaged back, until you hissed slightly. Looking down, he realised he’d pressed a little too hard with the cloth against your tender skin.

“Shit, sorry.”

“‘S’fine. Just concentrate, yeah?” despite your condition, you still had it in you to crack cocky jokes. Levi had half the mind to swat the back of your head with his cloth, but he decided to be merciful.

You left it a beat before you continued.

“Anyway, I didn’t have a choice. But it turns out, all the creepy bastard wanted to do was to make sure everyone knew I wasn’t untouchable. Then maybe we’d stop having smaller gangs ally with us. I let him scar my face, and in return he gave us Diablo back, completely unharmed. It was really fucking weird now that I think about it,” Levi pondered this for a moment, before another question popped into his head.

“What happened to him?”

“Who?”

“The creepy guy, idiot.”

“Call me an idiot again, I fucking dare you.”

“What will you do? You can hardly stand.”

“I don’t need to stand to beat your sorry ass.”

Shit, he’d missed this. This playful banter between the two of you. He’d missed it so goddamn much.

“He found one of my blades stuck in his throat pretty soon after,” Levi grunted in approval, a small smile bloomed across his face at the thought.

Good.

Creepy son-of-a-bitch.

The two of you continued in a comfortable silence for a short while, before your slightly mischievous voice cut through it again.

“Okay, my turn,” you sounded far too nonchalant for his liking, Levi narrowing his gaze to the back of your head.

“Your turn?”

“You’ve been asking me questions for the last few days, and I haven’t asked you one once,” if Levi didn’t know better, he’d say you were almost pouting. He was tempted to turn your head to check, but it seemed you still weren’t entirely comfortable with the whole being touched thing.

He hadn’t asked you about that yet.

“Alright, alright. One question.”

“How come you get countless and I only get one?”

“Call it a Captain’s privilege,”

“Pffft, Captain my ass,”

“Just ask your stupid question.”

You laughed at his feigned frustrated tone, knowing he was loving this as much as you were. You allowed yourself to think about how you wanted to phrase this.

“Are they still here with you? Farlan and Isobel?” you had been slightly hesitant to ask this, since he hadn’t mentioned them once. You didn’t know them personally, only seeing them fleetingly when Levi would usher you into his room, or having sparing conversation with them when Viper sold them that ODM. And judging by his pained silence, you now feared his answer.

“Yes and no,” your question had definitely caught him off guard. He didn’t even think you remembered them, so for you to ask after them was a little out of the blue. Hence why he opted to mimic your response from a few days ago.

You had clearly caught on.

“The hell does that mean?”

Levi realised he probably couldn’t tend to your back and tell this story at the same time. He was going to need all his strength to suppress the torrent of emotions he knew he was about to unlock. Sensing his change of tone, you slowly shifted so you were sitting next to him, making sure you didn’t move too quickly or awkwardly so as to not irritate your painful back.

You searched his features in the silence, partially hidden by the bangs you used to love running your hands through. You couldn’t help but wonder whether or not they were as soft as they used to be.

“It was my fault,” he admitted quietly. You hated seeing Levi like this. You’d only seen him like this once before, when Kenny abandoned him. You vowed you would never let him feel like this again as long as you were by his side.

This is what happens when you’re separated.

“What was your fault?” you gently prompted, not wanting to push him, but rather wanting to let him know that you were willing to listen.

“It was our first expedition. I was naive, agreeing to let them come with us, rather than the original plan which was for me to go alone. Raven, the reason I— the reason we left, was because we were recruited for a job, and killing Erwin Smith was part of that. But none of us knew what to expect beyond the walls. We’d trained but, we didn’t know what to expect when facing an actual titan,” you didn’t press further when he took pauses or longer breaths. You were happy he was comfortable enough with you now to even tell you this. “Everything was going smoothly. Too smoothly, and it wasn’t long before it all went to shit. I lost sight of them when the storm hit, losing them in the fog. I was completely powerless to stop an Abnormal. Shit, I didn’t even know it had passed me. I just saw bodies and limbs everywhere and knew I had to turn back. By the time I got there, it was too late. They were both gone,” Levi’s fist clenched into a ball, taking his focus away from the pain in his chest to the one in his palm. He didn’t even realise his eyes were closed until he felt a gentle hand on his shoulder. He stiffened under your touch, not quite able to believe how far the two of you had come in such a short amount of time.

“I’m so sorry I wasn’t there, Levi,” he didn’t really understand what you were apologising for, or why you felt the need. Afterall, it was him who left you.

“I vowed after that day I wouldn’t have any regrets. Some jackass said that if I did, their deaths wouldn’t mean anything. But I knew I would always have one. I knew I would always regret leaving you behind,” Levi looked to you through his bangs, an expression of guilt etched into his hardened face. You forgave him at that moment. You forgave him for everything.

“I’m here now, aren’t I? And whilst I may not be the same girl you left behind, I still have her memories,” your hand slid from its position on his shoulder to rest over his heart, feeling it flutter within his sturdy ribcage.

Levi faintly wondered if he was dreaming. If you could feel his heart rate increase with every touch.

“That’s why you said yes and no, isn’t it? Because they’re not physically here, but they are here,” Levi could do nothing but nod, his eyes trained on your face like a hawk. He wanted permission. Begged for it through his dark, swirling eyes. Screamed for it in the way his eyes flickered to your lips, your face so close he could smell that scent of freshly baked bread you’d always carried with you, even beneath all the filth. A few centimetres further and you would have what you’d wanted for ten long years. What you both have wanted.

“You sound ridiculous,”

“Your fault,” he could feel the flutter of your breath against his face, wishing nothing more than for you to close the distance.

Levi slowly brought his hand from his lap, his palm rising to cup your cheek.

It didn’t even get close before you flinched, eyes darting to his raised hand.

And just like that, all the tension dissolved. As if you hadn’t been busy getting lost within the storm that were his irises. Levi pulled back, as if he himself had been struck.

“I’m sorry… I wasn’t thinking,” he rose from his position next to you, wanting nothing more than for the ground to swallow him whole.

How could he be so damn selfish? It was obvious you couldn’t do anything like that right now. Maybe not ever. And he was getting way ahead of himself. You had already said the girl who loved him was dead, he couldn’t even think how or why he would assume just because your body was present, your mind was as well. Just because he was willing, why would you be willing as well?

Except you were.

So. Fucking. Willing.

And you cursed yourself for these instinctive reactions. Every sudden movement had your mind flashing back to training. Back to Viper’s brutal learning methods. It wasn’t even that much longer after Levi left you were made the Raven. After Viper’s death, it was almost instantaneous. But that didn’t stop those seven months of brutal punishments to leave a permanent scar on your psyche. You wished you could find your voice to reassure him that you’d get over this.

But you couldn’t.

And Levi was once again the first to speak.

“I should go. I’ll see you tomorrow Raven—”

“(Y/N),” you corrected him. After countless times of him calling you by your alias, you didn’t think you could stand it anymore. Levi raised his brow, seemingly a little confused by your interruption. “I’m not The Raven anymore. Technically that title belongs to Prongs now. So it’s just (Y/N),” despite the awkwardness of your recent encounter, you still felt that familiar warmth blossom in your chest at his softened smile, and quietly wonder if anyone else ever saw him smile this much.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, (Y/N),” you returned his expression, before lying back down on your side. This was your last night in your cell, before you’d be free to join the Scouts. You silently scoffed at the irony of that statement, but nothing could quell your small candle of hope as you listened to Levi’s footsteps get quieter and quieter. Maybe things weren’t so shit up here after all.

꧁ꨄ꧂

“You know, Raven, I’m going to miss our little nighttime meetings,” another harsh blow to your stomach sent you reeling, eyes screwed shut in both pain and defiance. They were trying everything they could to break you tonight. Blood running freely down your abdomen. Fresh bruises now blossoming over the wilted petals of previous nights.

Still you refused to break. Solid walls of spite had erected around your mind, and they wouldn’t be cracked or broken. Not by anything. So you took it. You took your punishment, only opening your mouth to hurl obscene insults or vile curses in their direction. Mocking the way they struck, laughing at their lack of strength. It only resulted in harsher blows, but it was worth seeing the frustration on their faces when you didn’t scream in agony.

“You know who you remind me of like this? I only made the connection a few nights ago. Strung up and beaten like your good-for-nothing father,”

That struck a chord in you. Your eyes flew open, staring at the ground in horror. This is what had happened to him? They had taken him and beaten him? Was he still alive? Was he here somewhere?

The man, who you’d dubbed Dirt, answered all your questions with his next jab.

“A shame he only lasted a few days. You on the other hand… you’re much more fun to play with,” a feral grin sliced through his face as he circled you, drawing back to land three excrutiating blows against your lower back. You grit your teeth, fighting back the tears that threatened to spill from your eyes. You didn’t think you had a heart to shatter. You didn’t think any of it remained for it to be broken again.

The MPs had taken two father figures from you.

That grin still adorned Dirt’s face as he went to swing the metal bat again, only to be interrupted by the door behind you opening. Dirt’s eyes narrowed, before whoever it was seemed to please him. God you couldn’t wait for the day where you tore that venomous smile right off his fucking face.

“Captain Ackerman. To what do we owe the pleasure?” you froze. What the hell was he doing here? Why did he always have to arrive during the moments where you really didn’t want him to see you.

But you weren’t expecting to feel a kernel of hope as he spoke.

You weren’t expecting the small smile that etched into your sweat slickened face.

“I was sent to observe. Since she’ll be joining the Survey Corps, I’m here to ensure you don’t break her,” Levi sounded as bored as ever, and you almost huffed a laugh.

Dirt scoffed, in irritation that he wouldn’t get to sever your spine with brute force.

“Very well. However, I must ask you to stand back. She swings like a stallion’s cock sometimes,” If it weren’t directed at you, you would have laughed at the comment. In any other situation, it would have been rather funny.

Just not this one.

Levi had never felt so sick. As soon as he walked in, seeing you strung up like that, helplessly, he had to force down the instinct to rip every one of these torturous bastards to ribbons. He’d never had to have such a tight hold on his emotions in his life, because if that hold slipped…

This would become a blood bath.

“Anyway Raven, where were we?” he asked, though the question was rhetorical. You knew he remembered. He was just trying to provoke a response out of you. But knowing Levi was here gave you a strength you weren’t expecting.

Looking up through your hair, you shot a glare through the thick, matted strands.

“Choke on your own blood, fuckface,” you spat, kicking weakly towards him. It wasn’t the show of defiance you’d wanted, but it seemed to get the message across. You were prepared for whatever consequences there would be for such a demonstration.

The repercussions came immediately. Roughly digging his fingers into your chin, Dirt forced you head up to look at him, his face a picture of mock amusement.

Levi’s jaw clenched.

“Come now Raven. Not trying to impress Captain Levi now, are you?” your eyes flickered over to Levi, his expression unreadable, grey hues trained on the two of you. A rumble of laughter echoed around the chamber as Dirt took in your spiteful expression. “Now I’m left wondering, how somebody like you could come from somebody like your pathetic father. How somebody so defiant, so fucking strong,” —he harshly jabbed at your stomach with the hilt of his bat— “Could be the daughter of somebody so weak,”

“Shut the fuck up,” you rasp, hot fury surging through your veins. How fucking dare he? How dare he insult your father this way. He was a good man. An honest man. He did nothing wrong. Nothing to warrant his or your mother’s death.

“Hm. No, I think I’ll keep talking. This might finally break you.”

“I’ll fucking KILL YOU,” the hook keeping your arms above your head creaked as you thrashed, trying to free yourself to wrap your hands around his goddamn throat.

“You should have heard his cries. His pathetic whimpers as we carved into his flesh. They were… amusing.” No. This wouldn’t be your downfall. You refused. This wasn’t it. You would not be broken by this.

“At least tell me what he died for. At least tell me why you took him, you shit-eating pig!” you spat viciously, trying once again to get free. It was infuriating more than anything. You had so many questions, never knowing why your parents had been killed. Why you came back to your house in disarray, crimson staining the floorboards as your mother’s blood drained from the gash in her throat. Your father, nowhere to be found.

Though he managed to keep his expression neutral, Levi thought back to your father. For the short time he knew him, he was a kind man. He did what he could for the people around him, always feeding those who looked starving. He was convinced that was where you got your compassion from. Why the hell would they take him and torture him?

“Why? He didn’t tell you? Interesting. Your father knew the location of The Nest long before you became our problem. You thought it was a coincidence Viper just happened to take you in? Please, this job was enjoyable enough, don’t make me laugh with your naivety as well,”

“You’re lying. My father was a baker. He was a good man. He wasn’t involved in our criminal shit!”

“Have you noticed a pattern in your life, Raven? Have you noticed how we tried everything to prevent you from falling down this path?” your jaw flickered at Dirt’s tone, mocking you as if they had done you a service.

“We thought your father would introduce you to a life of crime, so we got rid of him for you. When you fell into the care of Viper; well, we got rid of him for you as well,” his smile was snake-like as flashes from that night plagued your mind. Pressed up against the wall as your mentor was savagely dealt with. Begging at them. Screaming at them to stop. To let him go. Only for them to raise a rifle to his head, and paint the wall with his blood.

Dirt imitated a gun with his fingers, putting them up to your forehead.

“Bang.”

Slowly, you stopped thrashing, though the hatred in your veins didn’t cool. You simmered silently, raising your eyes once again. No tears. No sorrow. Nothing but feigned indifference flickered in the low light.

Dirt looked at you for a moment, eyebrows creasing in irritation as he stepped back, twirling the bad in his hands before repeatedly cracking it against your empty stomach. Levi only just managed to control his breathing as he watched helplessly, flinching subtly as every blow connected with your too-skinny body. Clearly Dirt was taking out some intense frustration. He’d just managed to compose himself when the bastard’s eyes turned to him. That fucking smile poisoned his features as he extended the handle of the weapon.

“Captain Levi. She killed a few of your men, did she not? Why don’t you see if you can break the whore?” You almost scoffed in amusement. Levi wouldn’t do that. Not to you. Not after everything the two of you had been through.

You’d finally found each other again.

You were so sure.

You were so sure of yourself.

You were so sure of him.

You’d rekindled that trust over the last week.

You’d rekindled something you thought was dead.

You were so sure.

Until he took the handle.

And the white hot knife of betrayal twisted into your gut once again.

Fuck.

Fuck fuck fuck fuck.

What the hell was he supposed to do?

Shit.

The weight of the bat felt ten times heavier than anything he’s ever held in his life. The weight of what he was about to do.

Fuck.

As excruciating as this was to watch, he knew it was ten times worse for you. He knew every blow, every crack, was undoing hours of hard work soothing your aches and bruises. Each thud against your body sent jolts of electricity through him. Nerve ends alight with adrenaline, heart beating as if he was about to fight every single one of these bastards just to get them away from you.

Still you have not broken. He couldn’t pinpoint the slight warmth in his chest, couldn’t comprehend what it was. Was he impressed? Surprised?

Proud…?

Levi wasn’t sure if the look of soul shattering betrayal in your eyes was worth it as his hands gripped the cool metal, slightly slickened with your blood.

He would explain it to you.

He would.

Once you were back in your cell, he would tell you why he did it.

But for now, his glare only darkened as he stepped forward. He couldn’t stand the expression on your face. Confused bewilderment, as if trying to work out what he was thinking.

Levi begged you to stop. Stop looking at him like that. Stop trying to work him out because not even he knew if this was the right thing to do.

It was almost a relief when your wide eyes clouded with heartbreaking realisation and acceptance.

A hiss escaped your lips at the first crack. Somehow, this felt more painful than anything those pitiful soldiers could do. Your eyes screwed shut, jaw clenched so hard you were afraid it would shatter into a million pieces.

Each blow felt so precise. So measured and controlled. It stung your heart more than anything else. You’d been betrayed. Again. For the second time in a week. Betrayed by the two people you’d ever loved. Scarlett, who’d picked you up when you were sure nobody else could. Who nursed your broken bones and your broken soul.

And by the first man who ever held your heart.

And truthfully, still did.

Was that all this last week had been?

A ploy just to fuck with you. To earn your trust only to immediately shatter you once again? To break your spirit? Granted, nobody knew the nature of your relationship between you and Levi, but that didn’t matter. The man you loved had just stabbed you in the back.

Again.

So much had happened in the last week. So much had been brought to the surface. It would take years to unpack it all, not that you had any intention of doing that. You just wanted it all gone. To bury it with your fathers. To never think about it again.

You were dragged from your thoughts by a shock of agony sparking up your spine, stemming from your lower back. It was Dirt’s favourite place to attack. Whenever he thought you were being too feisty, too aggressive. He would land as many blows to your lower back as he saw fit.

Admittedly, you doubted Levi knew you’d been snapping back spitefully all session before he arrived, but that didn’t quell the raging fire of hatred as your lips parted without your permission.

A broken cry of anguished agony wracked from your chest, chilling the air of the humid chamber.

Levi froze, horror flashing across his usually schooled features.

He’d broken you.

Levi had broken you.

And with it, any bond he’d managed to salvage over the last week. Any bridge he’d started to rebuild now came crashing down around him.

That one well placed crack had ripped away at your resolve, exposing the tired, hurt, beaten girl beneath.

The room seemed to have stilled. All falling into quiet awe at what had just happened. A slow clap split the stagnant air as Dirt walked up from where he was leaning against the wall. Levi was tempted to turn the bat on him, but he found himself unable to move.

“Your reputation precedes you, Captain. Striking her lower back like that after leaving it to simmer? Genius! We should have asked you to join us earlier,” Dirt cackled in delight as he produced a knife from his pocket. Reaching up, he easily sliced through the ropes binding your hands.

Stone rose up to greet your body as you fell uselessly to the ground, legs too weak to hold you.

“Oh dear. Are you dead? Maybe you and your father had more in common that I originally thought,”

“Enough.” Dirt’s jeering was interrupted by the no-bullshit tones of Levi, causing the soldier to whirl around. He’d finally managed to find his voice, once again reining himself in.

“But Captain Levi, Sir, she’s The Raven. Don’t you think she deserves some extra time with us tonight?”

“If you don’t leave now I’ll make sure it’s you who won’t be able to walk. Go,” you couldn’t tell if this was a blessing or a curse. If he was an angel or a demon.

Actually no, scratch that.

He was a demon, and this was a curse.

You couldn’t find it in yourself to move as you heard busy footsteps around you, assuming the four horsemen were gathering their effects.

“I do hope you make her crawl back to her cell, Captain. We all know your reputation for cleanliness. It would be a shame to dirty your hands touching this filthy whore,” Dirt drawled one more savage insult, before you heard his echoing steps get further and further away. You hoped the day would never come where you had to see his face again.

The silence in the room now was suffocating. You could both feel the emotions radiating off each other now the MPs were gone. He could feel your loathing, and you could feel his disgust. Or what you thought was disgust. What you assumed was disgust.

How could he not be disgusted? He must be. To do what he just did. You didn’t understand why he would come down everyday and help you if he felt such hatred towards you.

No, that’s a lie.

You did understand.

But that truth hurt so much more than anything else tonight.

It had sowed the seed of doubt in your mind. You knew you weren’t a good person. In fact, to most soldiers and nobles you were a devil. But you’d always clung onto the hope that everything you did was to help people. You stole medicine, you slit the throats of rapists, you provided weapons to those who didn’t have enough to fend for themselves.

There was a small part of you that truly believed you were doing good.

That small part had just been crushed, along with several bones.

Gathering what little strength you had, you extended a limp arm in front of you. Fuck it, you weren’t going to sleep here on a floor soiled by your own sweat, blood and saliva.

You would crawl if you had to.

“(Y/N)...” all he wanted to do was hold you. All he’d wanted to do since he’d found you again was hold you. He’d been so close yesterday, but he’d fucked that up.

Now he was sure you’d never willingly let him hold you again. The bat fell from his hand as if he’d realised it was covered in poison, heart clenching at the way you instinctively threw your arms above your head, terrified of some other attack.

You hated how his voice carried so much comfort. Hated how it soothed your raging mind. God you wanted nothing more than to rip his fucking tongue out and make sure he never spoke to you like that again.

A gentle hand landed on your shoulder, forcing you to stop.

“Get… get the fuck… off me… Get the fuck off me,” you couldn’t fight back as he tucked his arms under your legs and upper back, wincing as he lifted you into his grip. “Don’t… Don’t fucking touch me,” there was no strength left in you to push against him as he carried you back, but that didn’t stop you from weakly hitting the arms that held you.

You didn’t understand. One moment he was savagely beating you, and the next he was cradling you against his chest, holding you close as he took you to your cell.

Laying you down, he hoped you understood why he did what he did. It was a fool’s hope, he knew.

He realised you definitely didn’t understand when you started fighting back.

With a sudden surge of strength, you lunged for him. It was a weak attack, and you didn’t really know what you were trying to achieve as you threw yourself towards him with a cry of anguished rage, but you also didn’t care.

“I fucking trusted you,” you spat in between your flailing limbs. It really didn’t take long for Levi to pin your arms either side of your head, hovering over your body.

“(Y/N), stop,” He tightened his grip on your wrists as you struggled against his hold. It would have been a real test of strength for both of you had you not spent the last week having the life beaten out of you. You were weaker than you’d ever been, and he was taking advantage.

“I was right the first time. You don’t get to call me that. You don’t ever get to call me that. You sick, twisted BASTARD. So that was why you lied to me. That was why you didn’t tell me why you were helping me. You fucking coward, is that all you were doing? Convincing me I was safe with you? Tricking me into thinking you still actually cared about me you filthy fucking LIAR,” you barked a mirthless laugh, baring your teeth in a visceral snarl. “I swear to you Levi, I will not fucking stop until my knife is buried your goddamn THROAT!” you struggled again, twisting as much as you could beneath him, trying to free your arms, your hands, anything that could help you take him down.

He deserved this. He knew he did. Levi looked into the burning betrayal in your eyes and knew he deserved this. He would take every verbal blow you threw at him because he knew he deserved it. But he had to explain. He didn’t care. You could hurl whatever you wanted at him, but he wouldn’t leave until he had the chance to explain himself.

Then he would never see you again.

If that’s what you wanted.

“Just calm down, for a minute, please,” you hadn’t heard him beg like that in a very, very long time. Shit, you fucking hated what it did to you. In this position, your wrists held above your head, his arms caging you in, his legs either side of your hips...

The room suddenly felt far too warm.

“What could you possibly have to say to me? I fucking trusted you. You disgusting son-of-a-bitch. I can’t believe I actually thought—“

Levi finally lost his temper.

“What? You thought what? That just because we found each other again we’d play happy families? Grow the fuck up, Raven,” he spat your alias, finally releasing all the fury he’d pent up. He knew this was a mistake. None of this was your fault. He’d been angry with how you’d been treated. Utterly beside himself at Erwin.

And you were taking the fall for it.

“I didn’t lie to you, I didn’t have a fucking choice. If anyone saw me treat you any differently, they would start to question it. They would question why I was showing pity to a criminal. The Raven, no less. And I can’t—”

“Oh I’m sorry, I would hate to ruin your reputation, Captain,” you struck back with just as much venom. Just as much fury.

“Let me finish. I can’t let them get to you anymore than they already have. It was either them or—”

“Because I’m just so import—” you almost cried out as the grip on your wrists tightened, knowing they would leave yet another bruise on your body.

“Let. Me. Finish.” Levi narrowed his eyes, returning the glare you were holding on him and not continuing until you yielded, finally looking away and clamping your mouth shut. “It was either them or me. I could let them continue to beat the shit out of you mercilessly, or I could do it myself. I could try and make it better. I couldn’t fucking watch that shit anymore. I couldn’t fucking stand it. Those filthy bastards laying their dirty hands on you. Hurting you. Shit, you were half dead when I walked in. I was scared you were for a moment. Terrified they were just beating a corpse. But you’re so much stronger than I ever gave you credit for. They never fucking broke you. And they never will. Because if they touch you again, if they fucking look at you, I will go the the ends of the goddamn earth and tear them apart, because I care about you,” Levi hadn’t noticed he was panting. He hadn’t noticed the tears slipping down your cheeks. He didn’t think his self hatred could sink any deeper, but now he’d made you cry silent tears.

Loosening his grip on your wrists, he looked at you as though he’d been responsible for your murder.

“So, it was mercy? That’s what’s considered merciful up here?” you couldn’t really believe it. Twice in two days Levi had spoken more to you than you thought he ever did back when you belonged to each other. You didn’t think you’d ever sounded so small. So vulnerable. “Let me ask you this, Levi. Was it merciful on me, or merciful on you? Because you sure as hell didn’t make things better for me,” despite the quieter volume, your voice was still harsh.

But you had to know.

You wanted nothing more than to pull him in and thread your hands through his hair. To feel his body against yours. For his heartbeat to lull you to sleep. But you had to know whether he did this for you, or himself.

You understood now. You really did. And put in the same situation, you didn’t think you’d do any differently.

“Honestly…? Merciful to me. I couldn't bear it. I tried. I tried so fucking hard. But I couldn’t let them hurt you anymore,” his voice was no louder than a choked, guilt ridden whisper.

That’s all you needed to hear. Slipping your wrists free of his hands, you reached up. Cupping the sides of his face, you brought him down to you, since you couldn’t exactly sit up and go to him.

As soon as your lips returned home to his, you couldn’t stop the few tears from escaping your closed eyes.

Levi’s own eyes widened, and he was suddenly convinced he was dead. Was this actually happening? After everything he’s just done, everything he’s just said.

You forgave him?

When your tongue gently skirted his bottom lip, he decided contemplating forgiveness was something for later. Terrified of hurting you further, he rested his weight on his elbows, finally closing his eyes. He’d wanted this for so long. Since he laid eyes on you for the first time in ten years, he’d wanted nothing more than to envelop your mouth with his own.

With your eyes closed, you didn’t mind when his hand came up to gently caress the apple of your cheek. You didn’t mind when you opened your lips for his tongue to hesitantly slip in and explore your mouth, that slick muscle moving against yours. You didn’t mind when his hand travelled down to cup the side of your neck, tilting your head up to deepen the kiss.

Neither of you wanted to break away, having waited far too long for this moment. You reveled in the groan he emitted down your throat as your left hand found its way to his undercut, gently scratching and caressing in desperation. You hadn’t heard that sound in so long and you instantly craved more.

Levi’s eyes rolled back into his skull behind his closed lids, feeling your hands in his hair. God, he didn’t want to fuck you in a cell, but your hands and tongue were making it difficult for him to control himself.

He was the first to pull back, instantly missing the warmth of your mouth.

“I don’t understand,” he breathed, looking down into your eyes. You could see the swirling confusion in those sterling orbs as they flickered in the low light. You could see the arousal in his dark pupils. Feel it against your inner thigh. You wanted to take him right here and now, but not only did you acknowledge the fact you were literally in a prison cell…

You weren’t sure you were ready. Not yet. Not after everything.

“Levi… if you had done that for my sake, I would have shattered both your kneecaps,” you earned yourself a gentle laugh, his thumb coming up to smooth down your eyebrow. “But you didn’t. I know you feel selfish, and I know you hate yourself for it, but I also know that it was either that, or you beat them to death with that goddamn bat. I know you, Levi. You haven’t changed much yourself,” your left hand came back, softly carding through those ebony bangs.

Levi felt like he could fly. Felt as though you’d returned the wings he’d lost when he thought he’d never see you again.

(Y/N), I want to apolo—”

“Shut the fuck up.”

With that, you stretched up to capture his mouth again, instantly feeling like you’d come back home. You didn’t care about the surge of pain coursing through your abdomen and back. That’s what he was to you.

He was home.

You felt his length twitch in his constraints as both your hands found purchase in his hair, gently tugging at the black strands.

“Fuck…” he breathed into your mouth, his hips bucking involuntarily as you sucked his lower lip between your teeth.

You kept having to consciously remind yourself that you are in fact in a dank, filthy cell. And enveloping him between you increasingly slick folds was wildly inappropriate.

Levi thought it was entirely unfair how you were managing to drag whines and moans from him with nothing but your fingers and teeth. So he decided it was his turn to give something back.

His hand travelled down your body, almost instinctively finding the crease in your thighs. He swallowed his own groan of ecstasy as his knuckles grazed his arousal, opting instead to focus on the way your hips rose to meet the pads of his fingers, gently rubbing your swollen, clothed clit. His circular motions drawing out those small whimpers he’d craved to hear.

“Mmn, L-Levi... ACK, fuck!” your moan of pleasure turned into a small cry of pain as your abs contracted, sending yet another lightning bolt through your system. Levi withdrew his hand immediately, eyes instantly clearing and recognising your signs of discomfort.

“Shit (Y/N), your back,” you felt your heart swell at his concern, though internally cursed yourself.

“‘S’fine,” you insisted, rising up once again to grasp his lips with yours, only to be met with thin air and you ex(?) lover looking down at you.

“No, it’s not. C’mere,” Levi sighed and lifted himself off you, careful not to cause you any further damage. He looked for permission before gently turning you on your side, as if your tongue hadn’t been down his throat less than thirty seconds ago. He cursed his erection, finding himself a little hindered by it as he walked over to the faucet, allowing himself a few moments reprieve before removing the handkerchief from his pocket and running it under the tap.

Though the mirror was cracked, he could still see his slightly swollen lips, distorted against the spider webbing fractures. Could still see the mark you’d left on his face. Shit, he wished for those marks to be left elsewhere. His mind wandered back to the way you used to settle between his thighs, teasing him until you got him to crack. He loved the way you could coerce broken pleas from his throat. Adored the black-blue bites you left on the inside of his thighs, before your warmth enveloped him. Your flexible muscle flicking up and down his sensitive length, running over that prominent vein he hadn’t felt you caress in too long. He missed feeling the vibrations of your chuckle when he begged for you to let him cum. When he felt his balls tighten with release, and yet you denied him still.

But most of all he missed tasting you. He missed the way your arousal freely leaked onto his tongue. He missed the way your hips rose to meet his fingers, that breathy gasp when he found your hidden spot. The begs and cries you made when you wanted him to let you cum. When you whined for his dick to replace his fingers. Fuck, he missed the way your thighs locked his head between them as he brought you to climax with nothing but his tongue flicking over you little, sensitive button. Over, and over, and over again.

“Having trouble?” you grinned from your position on the sorry excuse for a mattress. You’d managed to turn yourself over to watch him, disregarding any agony you felt. You wouldn’t miss this for the world. You wouldn’t miss seeing Levi all riled up and unable to focus simply because of the administrations with your mouth.

“Shut up,” he grumbled, turning the faucet off and ringing out the cloth in the sink. You chuckled at his tone and his predicament, loving every second of it. Though you couldn’t miss the small glint of amusement in his dark eyes. “Oi, turn back ‘round. ‘Need to get to your back,”

“I bet you do,”

“(Y/N)...” he warned, with no real malice in his tone. If this was any other man, you would have lunged at them for taking that tone with you. But this was Levi. Your Levi. You knew he would never hurt you. Not unless absolutely necessary.

Case and point: hitting you with a bat to avoid a murder charge.

Begrudgingly, you tore your eyes from his face, haphazardly twisting on the mattress to face away from him.

“Hm, good girl,” Levi purred, eyes gleaming at the way your thighs clenched in reaction. But any spark of arousal was swiftly extinguished, when your body twitched away from his as he took his seat behind you.

You clenched your eyes shut, hating yourself for the reaction you couldn’t control. You didn’t blame Viper for your now primal fear. You knew he was just teaching you what you needed to know, but he had no fatherly experience, and possibly caused more harm than good.

“‘M’ sorry, it’s not you, I promise. I just—”

“No. No apologising. It’s not your fault,” you nodded, not trusting your voice not to crack if you spoke up now.

Levi thought hard about how he wanted to do this without causing any more reaction from you. Attempting to keep his mind from wandering too far, he tried to understand what made you comfortable enough to bring him onto your mouth. To gently tug on his lower lip. To thread your hands through his hair and--

“I have an idea… (Y/N), watch what I’m doing,” you did as he asked, turning your neck as much as you could to watch the movements of his hand. You tensed as his palm hovered over your side. But when you didn’t feel anything, you unscrewed one tightly shut eye, peering at him curiously.

“(Y/N), can you raise your body for me, just to reach my hand?” this might actually work. Levi had been wracking his brains for a way for you to feel comfortable again with touch.

Hesitantly, you slowly raised your body to meet his fingers, almost freezing as you felt no reaction. You didn’t tense, you didn’t instantly balk under his touch.

You hadn’t cried in years, and yet throughout the course of this long, long night, you had cried twice, the corners of your lashes growing damp as a tear slipped down the side of your face.

Growing increasingly concerned by your lack of response, Levi was about to move his hand from your side, but was immediately stopped by your own fingers covering his.

“Don’t. Stay. Don’t move away,” his heart burned at your broken plea, his worried expression softening in slight relief.

“I won’t. (Y/N), I’m not going to touch you without your permission. Ever. But, if you’re comfortable with it, we can do this. If you’re happy with this,” Levi gently moved his thumb against the fabric of your shirt, caressing your side. Your choked laugh of happy disbelief caused his small smile to broaden ever so slightly.

“Yes. Yes i’m happy with this,” still having trouble believing this was truly happening, you closed your eyes in bliss, allowing a few more tears to escape.

“Okay, I’m going to move your shirt up, alright?” your heart sung at his sincerity, nodding silently once again as you felt the fabric of your shirt bunch up ever so carefully. You loved how he always made you feel so precious. Nothing was precious in the Underground, but somehow he always made you feel worth diamonds and gold. You’d forgotten what that was like, until the damp cloth once again soothed your aching welts, chasing away the throbs of pain.

Those spears of guilt once again plunged into Levi’s heart as he saw what they had done to you. What he’d done to you. You were always so forgiving when it came to him. You always have been. He could lock himself in his room for days, not speak to you for hours on end and you would always be there to hold him when the pressure finally cracked. Always there to soothe him when he opened up after long weeks of isolation. When those memories of his mother dragged up again. When the day Kenny left forced him to hide away until he couldn’t take it anymore.

You always forgave him.

And could always sense what he was thinking.

He came back to the present when your hand squeezed his, as if you knew where his mind had taken him.

“It’s okay, Levi,” your soft reassurance broke his heart.

“I should be saying that to you,”

“Go on then,” you retorted, not even trying to hide the mischief in your voice

Levi chuckled, moving his hand from under yours to stroke your hair.

“It’s okay, (Y/N),”

“I feel thoroughly reassured,”

“Tch, shut up brat,” god, at this point your heart could have been a choir. Singing once again at the soft amusement gently lacing his tone. But you internally cringed as fingers threaded through your grimy hair, reaching up to move it away.

“Levi, don’t. It’s fucking filthy,”

“So’s your face but I recall sucking on it a few moments ago,”

“Levi!” you couldn’t believe he’d just said that. He was never one to make such jokes. But you couldn’t deny you loved it. Loved his low, breathy laugh at your indignant call of his name.

“What? Am I wrong?” you couldn’t see his slightly cheeky smirk behind you. Or the way one brow raised in feigned curiosity.

“Well no, but—”

“Didn’t think so.”

“God you’re insufferable. Anyone would think you’re— OW!” you turned to look back at him in mock anger. He didn’t actually hurt you, and by looking at your swiftly disintegrating expresion, Levi was able to decipher you were just fucking with him. Rolling his eyes, he continued his administration with the cloth, watching fondly as you settled back down.

You only spoke again when that hand in your hair started moving.

“Levi, seriously, it’s gross. Just focus on my back,” when he didn’t reply, you once again twisted back to look at him, unable to decipher the expression on his face.

“Stay here,”

“Like I’m in any condition to move, asshole,”

“Tch, don’t be difficult. I’ll be back in a minute,” with a final caress of your head, Levi chucked the cloth back into the sink before standing to his feet. You were a bit of a sorry sight, lying on your side, shirt ridden up to reveal your bruised, still bloodied back. He’d managed to gently scrub off most of the crimson staining your skin, but he wanted to provide you with just a little more comfort, if he could.

You didn’t even try to escape when he left the door open. Too tired to move. Your limbs felt like lead everytime you attempted to shift, exhaustion clinging to your bones like shackles. You didn’t know how long you waited, but you felt yourself start to drift in and out of consciousness, unable to help yourself marvel at how easy it would be to slip into a deep sleep. Your mind was far too heavy to sift through the lake of emotions you’d found yourself submerged in. Just as you were about to succumb to the call of rest, your faultless alert system brought you back to consciousness, adrenaline injected into your veins as you shot upright at the sound of footsteps.

“Calm down, it’s just me,” your brittle nerves settled at the sound of his calming voice, heart leaping when you saw what he carried in his arms.

Levi had brought everything he thought he would need. A small metal basin containing a small flannel, a wash-cloth, a small cup, the shower soap and hair conditioner from his own quarters and a large towel to spare the mattress of the water. Kicking the cell door almost closed with his foot, Levi crossed to the sink once again, setting out the contents on the cracked porcelain before filling the basin.

He left the faucet running, turning back to you with the town folded on his arm.

“Gonna need you to move if we want to set this down,” you raised a suggestive eyebrow, mouth pulling into a small smirk. Levi rolled his eyes. “Not like that, brat. Unless you want to sleep on a damp mattress. It’s up to you, really,” the amused spark in his eye betrayed his neutral, blank face as you gently shimmied down the bed, making a space for him to set the towel down.

You watched as he removed his jacket, mouth watering ever so slightly as his shirt clung to his back, unable to tear your eyes away from the movement of his muscles. They had certainly developed well.

“Oi, stop ogling,” he smirked to you over his shoulder, earning a sly grin from you in response.

“Can’t help it,” you chimed, eyes flicking to his forearms as he rolled up his sleeves. Fuck, if only you weren’t in a jail cell. Or utterly filthy. Or just not ready for that yet.

If only you didn’t have a thousand things stopping you from pushing him against the wall and engulfing his cock in down your throat.

But for now, you just had to settle with undressing and fucking him with your eyes. Something that clearly didn’t go unnoticed, if the way he writhed slightly under your pinning gaze was anything to go by.

“Stop looking at me like that,” Levi tried to steer his thoughts away from his length stiffening once again. Fuck, the way you were staring at him, he was starting to feel hot beneath his shirt, despite the naturally cool temperature of the room. Your heated chuckle only fueled the flames.

“Aw, why? Are you hard?” you teased, raking your eyes up and down his figure, lingering on the small tent in his crotch. You shifted slightly, almost groaning as the mattress below you rubbed against your swollen folds.

“Tch, obviously. And I’m not going to deal with it in this filthy prison cell, so don’t make it worse brat,” Levi marvelled at your laugh. A proper, head thrown back laugh. He couldn’t stop the fond smile spreading across his face at the sight.

“Alright alright, I’ll stop eye-fuckinig you,” you managed to say, after regaining some sort of composure.

“You’re filthy,”

“Isn’t that why you’re about to bathe me?” you tilted your head slightly, watching him lift the basin from the sink after turning off the faucet. He didn’t deem your comment worthy of a response, opting instead to look back at you with a blank, deadpan expression. Tucking everything else under his arm, Levi returned back to your side. He thought for a moment about how he wanted to do this before, wedging the water basin between his legs.

“Lie back, place your head on my lap. Gonna’ wash your hair,” he instructed, busying himself with getting the small, brown bottle of hair soap. But he paused upon sensing your hesitation. Looking back to you, he searched your face, before slowly bringing his hand up.

You shied away, closing your eyes instinctively, almost bracing yourself for the contact that never came.

“Hey, not gonna touch you without permission, remember?” you opened your eyes to see his hand hovering next to your cheek. He was waiting for your next move, and you could see the slight hopeful spark in his eye.

So slowly, you tilted your head enough to gently nuzzle into his palm, your own hand coming up to keep him against your face.

Levi smoothed the skin under your eye with his thumb, trying his damndest not to let any tears well up in his eyes.

Unbeknownst to him, you were attempting to do the same. Not wanting him to see you cry for the third goddamn time tonight. But it became impossible when he said something you didn’t know you needed to hear.

“I missed you so much, firefly,” your breath hitched in your throat at the old nickname. He’d only ever use it in the softest moments in the Underground. Stroking your hair whilst lying in his bed. Staying up and keeping you company when you’d shoot awake from a nightmare. He was never one for nicknames, so one day when he, out of the blue, called you his firefly;

you’d almost cried.

Your eyes widened, hand gently squeezing his own to ground yourself. You let out something halfway between a laugh and a sob.

“I missed you too. So, so much,” you hardly had to move forward before your face was nestled in the crook of his neck, his arms slowly tucking you against his body. “I missed you so much,” you whispered again.

Levi didn’t think he’d ever been this happy, at least not for a long, long time. Ecstatic you felt comfortable enough to let him hold you. Though he was usually so good at keeping his feelings to himself, so much had happened over the last week, he felt the walls to his emotional dam cracking ever so slightly, a few tears lining his closed eyes. He could feel the collar of his shirt dampen as you shed silent tears, his thumb rubbing small circles against your back.

Levi held you like this for what felt like hours. Content to just be in each other’s arms once again. In reality, it had only been a few minutes before he gently shifted you so the back of your head rested against his lap.

“Never known you to be such a cry-baby,” he lightly teased, gathering what he could of your hair and soaking it within the basin still wedged between his knees.

“I’m not. I haven’t cried in years. Literally. Probably since Viper’s—” you stopped yourself, not expecting the casual statement to hurt quite as much as it did. “Viper’s death,” you finished quietly, eyes avoiding any direct contact with his own.

Levi took note of your tone change, reaching for the hair soap. He was only vaguely aware of the relationship between you and the old Nest leader. Finding out through those vile MPs.

“Want to talk about it?” The tone of his question matched yours as he lathered the gel into your now cleaner locks to make sure the grime and grease was properly dealt with.

“Honestly? Not yet. Maybe not ever. I don’t know. I haven’t spoken to anyone about it. Not even Prongs, or Wolf, and they were his Shadows before mine,” you fell silent for a moment, before looking back to him. “How did you do it? How did you just… leave everything behind?”

Levi sighed at the innocence of your question. The raw guilt he knew you were feeling. Knowing you were up here, safe, warm, comfortable, whilst so many people down there were still suffering. Still dying from easily preventable illnesses.

“I didn’t. Not really. I still find myself thinking back to those poor sods down there. But I couldn’t think about it for too long, because I would find myself thinking back to you,” his hand stroked the top of your now damp forehead, smoothing down the wet locks of your hair.

The basin sloshed slightly as you nodded, disheartened by the fact that this feeling of suffocating guilt would probably never leave you. Levi saw this in your face. He saw the exact same swirl of emotions he felt when he knew he would never return.

But you’d left behind so much more than he did. You had a trusted group. A family who would only know what happened to you through the words of that young girl.

“They’ll be safe, (Y/N). He may be an asshole sometimes, but I trust Erwin. He wouldn’t break his word,” running his hands through your soaked hair, Levi gently teased the knots out with his fingers, easily gliding through the now freed strands.

His reassurance calmed your worries. Levi hardly trusted anyone, you only ever knew him to trust Isobel, Farlan and yourself. This Erwin guy must have really made an impression.

Reaching back to the small flannel he’d brought down with him, he began drying your hair, setting the basin to one side. You didn’t think you’d ever felt this pampered. This well looked after. You thought you could certainly get used to it. Returning your thoughts to the conversation, you exhaled a sigh.

“Yeah, I know. It’s just… My job was to take care of them. My job was to stop something like this from happening. Our entire operation was compromised because my shitty partner couldn’t get over some grudge she had against a boy she’d never met,” you poked his chest as he rolled his eyes, looking down at you with a brow raised.

“So it’s my fault?”

“I didn’t say that,”

“You implied it,”

“Oh don’t be so sensitive,”

“I wasn’t the one who cheated,”

You almost sat bolt upright at that, if it weren’t for him anticipating the movement. What did he mean ‘cheat’? You didn’t cheat. You would never cheat. Loyalty ran through your veins like blood, and if you weren’t so incredulous you would have spotted the smallest hint of mischief in his steely eyes.

“Wh— Cheat? I didn’t cheat. What makes you think that?” your genuine concern broke his heart, and he almost felt bad for teasing you like this.

Almost.

Taking your face in both his hands, Levi failed to suppress the fugitive smirk on his face.

“We technically never broke up, brat,” you breathed a sigh of relief, before turning back to scowl at him, tempted to lightly smack the back of his head.

“Don’t fucking scare me like that, asshole,” your scowl held no heat, too relieved that he was just being pedantic rather than actually implying you would ever be disloyal. But your glare melted away at the rumble of a chuckle emitting from his chest. You rolled your eyes, trying your best to feign annoyance and failing miserably.

Removing the small towel from your now damp hair, Levi deemed it dry enough for you to sleep on without catching a cold.

“There. Think you can do the rest yourself? I don’t wanna… make you uncomfortable or anything,” it was your turn for your heart to break, his consideration for your comfort and wellbeing always seemed to be his top priority. You took his hand in yours, gently stroking your thumb over his knuckles.

“You’ve done more than enough,” earnest gratitude swam in your eyes and it was all Levi could do not to stoop down and kiss you.

Instead, he stayed put for a little while longer, stealing all the seconds he could. He’d realised, with you joining the Survey Corps, you two wouldn’t be able to do this anymore. The company you’d both enjoyed for the past week would be ripped away by expeditions, training and paperwork.

So he greedily took as much time as the two of you could spare, before you would inevitably have to part ways.

“I have to go, (Y/N),” Levi whispered, although every part of him was longing to stay, especially when your face slowly fell in realisation.

“I know,” you tried to mask your melancholy with a gentle smile, but your voice betrayed you, breaking slightly as you spoke. Neither of you wanted to be the one to move. Neither of you wanted to be the first to burst the protective bubble of familiarity you both knew you wouldn’t feel again for a long, long time.

But to save him from doing it himself, you were the one to shift, allowing him to rise from the bed.

“I’ll uh, leave all this here and collect it early in the morning,” Levi shifted slightly awkwardly on his feet, running a hand through his hair. You nodded, adjusting yourself carefully. Your midsection didn’t hurt as much, more of an echoing throb, but you were still cautious nonetheless.

“Right, yeah. Probably a good idea, before anyone sees,” you shrugged, avoiding having to look at his face. You knew it would break both of you if you’d asked whether there was any chance of him staying.

Just for a little while longer.

“I’ll see you soon… Raven,” you felt your soul crack as he replaced your name with your alias. You knew it was right. You knew it was for the best. But that wouldn’t stop every fiber of your being shattering.

Levi hated how you said nothing as he turned to leave. He pretended not to notice your heartbreak as he deliberately called you Raven. He suppressed the urge to pick you up and take you with him. To carry you to his bed and cage you in his arms as you both fell asleep in each other’s embrace.

He didn’t know your prolonged silence was because you were gathering your courage. Silently arguing with yourself over what was right and what was wrong until you stopped him by calling his name.

“Levi…” There was no turning back now. You took a breath, finally raising your eyes to meet his now on the other side of the bars. “I—” love you.

You immediately stopped yourself, finding those three words caught in your throat. You couldn’t say them. Shit, you couldn’t say them.

You were a coward.

“Thank you,”

Levi stayed searching your face. He knew. He knew that wasn’t what you wanted to say. Because that wasn’t what he wanted to hear. He let loose a breath he didn’t know he was holding, giving you one last look of badly masked longing, before turning away.

“Training starts tomorrow,” though the words themselves were cold, his tone was laced with mourning as his footsteps echoed out of earshot, leaving you completely and utterly alone.

Levi had managed all but three steps into the hallway before his name was called by an irritatingly familiar voice.

“Ah, Levi. Good. My office. Now, if you’re not busy,” Erwin had a way of saying ‘if you’re not busy’ that sounded like he was really saying ‘there is absolutely no debate in this, you could be bleeding out and missing an arm and I would still expect you in my office within the next five minutes’. Levi knew he didn’t exactly have a choice.

“Sure. Let me make some tea and I’ll be right there,” he knew he’d made a mistake. The look in Erwin’s cerulean eyes told him that the tall blonde had figured something out. Something dangerous that could compromise his relationship with you.

Actually, he’d probably figured out he had a relationship with you.

Shit…

He was in so much trouble.

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young-dumb-and-vaccinated · 3 years ago

Text

A Deafened Bard (Stephen Strange x Female!Reader) pt. 2

Doctor Strange and y/n confide their tragic backstories in one another. Y/n struggles with her feelings for him.

Trigger warnings: abusive parenting, use of firearms, discussion of death and grief, mention of alcoholism

"On the outside, always looking in

Will I ever be more than I've always been?

Cause I'm tap, tap, tapping on the glass-"

You stopped yourself before you could indulgently belt out the titular lyric.

"Ew, why was I singing that?" You muttered to yourself. "I don't even like that song."

You knew, subconsciously, that it was because you were trying to avoid what you really wanted to sing. For the first time ever, you had an audience. Someone was paying attention.

"Love of my life, you've hurt me-"

"Oh, come on, butterfingers." He interrupted. "Love of my Life by Freddie Mercury. Give me something hard."

"I wasn't aware it was classic rock trivia night."

"Then why were you staring straight at me while singing?" He smirked.

"Was I?" You cocked your head, expertly deflecting his implication. "I'm so spaced out I don't even know where I'm looking."

"It's Freddie Mercury." He insisted.

"Uh, yes and no." You corrected, drawing on your encyclopedic knowledge of Queen from one particularly weird summer in high school. "While Freddie Mercury wrote the song, it was recorded on a Night at the Opera. Which was accredited to the whole band."

"That's a nitpick," he shook his head. "I'm still right."

You couldn't wear your heart on your sleeve anymore. You could only distract him with 70s glam rock trivia for so long before he started to notice a pattern. Although a sappy love song was in your heart, you sang the anthem of the depressed theater kid.

You were staring straight at him, though. But who wouldn't? You studied his features only for artistic inspiration. His sharp jaw and high, high cheekbones were… inspiring.

You couldn't lie to yourself. You fell and fell hard.

"Butterfingers!" Master Strange called out from the other side of the sanctum. "I need you!"

You dropped your pencil and pushed yourself out from the chair. "Coming!"

You followed the voice into his chambers. This was a new development, you thought. Out of respect for his privacy, you'd never dared to snoop around in his bedroom. But this was practically a written invitation.

The room was spotless. Not a book or a scrap of paper out of place. Nor was there much to look at at all. A handful of picture frames, some magazines from when he was a surgeon, all featuring himself on the cover.

"Butterfingers!" He called again, as if he knew you were about to snoop.

"I'm here!" You yelled back, eyes wandering around the room. "What do you need?"

"I left my watch somewhere in the library!" He sounded disproportionately panicked for what was just a minor inconvenience. "I need you to go get it for me."

"What does it look like?" You asked.

"It's a $27,000 watch." He snapped impatiently. "It looks like one."

"Jesus." You cursed.

"Don't give me that shit, [F/N]." He ordered, slamming his fist down against the sink. "Just do what you're goddamn told."

"Alright, alright!" You put your hands up. "Fine, I'll get it."

You hurried down the stairs and into the library. On the floor between his favorite chair and a stack of musty old books was a slim, silvery watch with a plain black band.

You picked it up and examined it. Apart from the price tag, was there really any reason for him to be so worried about it? He knew exactly where he left it. Did he have reason to believe it wouldn't be there when he returned?

All you needed to do was flip it over to get your answer. You read the inscription on the back.

Time will tell how much I love you -- Christine

You should have known that his massive ego wouldn’t keep the women away forever. Hell, it certainly didn’t deter you. Much uglier douchebags have gotten far prettier girlfriends than they deserved.

You closed your fingers around the watch and sighed. The fantasy you created for yourself, of slowly, deliberately earning his love was shattered. Christine already beat you to it, it seemed. You tried to smother the part of you that resented this person for her exclusive right to Master Strange's affections. You didn't know her, but you loathed her. And you felt filthy for it.

With a heavy heart, you brought the stupid, criminally expensive little timepiece back to its rightful owner.

"Here's your all-important watch, master." You mumbled, placing it on the bedside table.

"I know I told you I would give you space to question things," He said, swiping it from the table and expertly affixing it around his wrist. "But I'd really appreciate it if you didn't question this."

You tried to sound as non-passive-aggressive as you could. You attempted a more forgiving tone, but you couldn't hide your hurt. "It's fine. I don't care."

"I didn't mean to get short with you, [F/N]." His voice softened. "I'm sorry. But this watch-"

"It's fine." You cut him off, peering at the floor.

"It was a gift." He finished anyway.

You felt the lump in your throat rising. You knew what the watch represented and you wanted to smash it to pieces. Along with the sting of rejection, you felt the sting of tears in your eyes. "I know. I saw the engraving."

"She died two years ago." He lowered his head.

Suddenly, all your ill will towards this woman turned into guilt.

"I'm sorry to hear that." You said. "I can't imagine what it's like to lose someone who loved you so much."

"She had agreed to come to a speaking engagement with me. As a second chance, and-" Pain wrapped his voice. He closed his hand tightly around the watch and held it close to his chest. "Have you ever been in love before, [F/N]?"

From the way your heart ached, and how easily the thought of never being with him made you cry, you knew the answer. You'd been avoiding speaking it into being thus far, but you couldn't lie to yourself anymore.

"Yes." You whispered.

"You'll learn soon enough." He muttered. "It only brings more suffering."

The tears finally breached and you tried to blink them away. You didn't know what emotion was causing them: guilt, shame, contempt, anger, sadness-- they were all present.

"Master Strange, I-" you stuttered, tripping over your breath. "I respect what you've gone through, I really do, but it's not fair to take it out on me."

"You're right." He conceded. "I'm sorry. Please, go get some sleep.”

You nodded. “Right.”

You slept as late as you could get away with the next morning. In apprentice terms, that only meant sleeping until eight thirty. Your dailies could wait an extra hour while you laid in bed, feeling like garbage.

You stumbled down the spiral staircase in your pajamas. No bra, no makeup and no effort. You didn’t even run a brush through your hair. Why try, you thought. Why make an effort for the man who would never see you as anything but the help?

When you saw the piano, though, you did a full 180.

In the living area was a French cherry baby grand piano that definitely was not there before. You certainly would have noticed it before. You placed your phone on the counter and approached the new addition.

As if the memories were woven into the very muscles and ligaments of your fingers, you ran down a few octaves of C Major. The keys were smooth as porcelain and the sound that emanated from the instrument was next to heavenly.

A bright orange post-it note was stuck to the music rack.

“Love of my Life”, Queen, A Night at the Opera. 1975

Was this a request, or an admission of wrong? Whatever the case, it made you smile.

"You weren't being entirely honest with me, Butterfingers." He said, randomly materializing behind you.

You turned around on the piano bench and looked up at him. "What was I not honest about?"

"I'm so glad you asked." He sat down on the bench next to you, phone in hand. "Because when you said you used to play piano, you didn't specify you were actually a student prodigy."

Sure enough, on his phone, he was scrolling through your Instagram. Dozens of videos of a much younger [F/N] playing hundreds of different songs, singing with too many vocal runs and doing so with the entire content of her soul behind the music.

"Student prodigy is a bit strong." You turned your head to hide your blush.

He scrolled up and found a picture of a young, zit-faced teenage [F/N] holding an acceptance letter. "Last I checked, Juilliard doesn't give full-ride scholarships to just anyone."

You covered your face with your hands, smothering an embarrassed smile. "God, please. I'd rather you'd found my OnlyFans."

He raised his eyebrows. "As tempting as that sounds, I'd still rather hear your explanation on this. Why did you give up on something you loved?"

You looked at him in surprise. "You really want to know?"

"Well, I told you mine." He playfully nudged you in the side.

You took a deep breath in. "Well, it was about two years ago, now-”

"Cheers to you, [F/N]!" Your best friend Holly raised her glass of champagne in your direction. "Juilliard ain't gonna know what hit ‘em."

"I'll drink to that." You said, bring your own flute up to your lips and taking a swig. You wretched in disgust as the vile liquid ran down your throat. "Or maybe I won't."

"You're gonna have to get used to it." Holly nudged you with her elbow. "I think most professional musicians are alcoholics."

You narrowed your eyes at her. "I don't think that's right."

"Is too." She smirked. "Conductors are mad strict. Abusive even. Drive musicians to drink all the time."

You laughed. "Is everything you know about the world of music from Whiplash?"

"And The Perfection." She added.

"Thank you, Holly." You said, attempting to take another sip of champagne, purely for dramatic effect. "Very cool."

You felt a pair of hands on your shoulders. "Hi, Holly. Enjoying the party?"

Holly took a step back. "Hey, Mrs. [L/N]. Yeah, it's great."

"I hope you don't mind," Your mom said, her fake nice voice eeking through her clenched teeth. "I need to borrow [F/N] for a few minutes."

Holly's face fell. "Sure. I'll catch up with you later, [F/N]."

Your mother tugged you off to the side. With a stressed huff, she began. "Jason is out in the fields with his ROTC friends."

"And what do you want me to do about that?" You asked, knowing her drunk self couldn't read your sarcastic tone.

"Could you go get him and bring him home?" She said, squeezing your upper arm.

"Are you kidding?" You spat.

"[F/N], he's drunk." She scolded. "Do you want him to get another strike on his record?"

"I don't care." You mumbled under your breath. "Have him call an uber. Hell, let him sleep it off in the field. Not my problem."

"You know what he's like when he's drunk." She rationalized. "He gets rowdy. It had better be you."

You tensed up. "No. Holly and I are going to the French Quarter. I don't have time to babysit Jason."

"Just pick him up on your way there?" She pleaded. "It won't take long."

You knew this wasn't going to stop. "Fine, but this is the last time."

You were both dressed far too well to be trekking through the swampy ass nowhere when you should have been fucking your way through the French Quarter. Luckily for your evening plans, all you needed to do was follow the sound of gunshots.

You slammed the car door shut and Holly followed suit. Finding him was the easy part. The hard part was hauling his drunk ass back home.

"Fun's over, shithead." You announced, heels sinking into the sod as you spoke. You didn't have much trouble projecting over the gunfire and getting their attention.

"Shit, [F/N]?" Jason sputtered, so drunk he could barely keep his head straight.

"Holy shit, I didn't even recognize you in that dress." One of his dumb fuck friends added. He jabbed Jason in the side. "Why didn't you tell me your sister's hot?"

"Buster, I-'' You clenched your teeth. "I don't care if you live or die, but my mom needs me to bring Jason home."

"If you get in the car now, we won't have to use the chloroform." Holly added.

Jason scratched the back of his head with the barrel of his gun, then pointed it at you. "You're gonna have to make me."

"Jesus fucking Christ!" You exclaimed, hitting the deck. "What the fuck, Jason!?"

Jason and his dumbass friends laughed. "You should have seen the look on your face, [F/N]!"

"Put down the fucking gun-" You seethed. "And get in the fucking car."

He lowered the gun and looked like he was going to concede. Just when you thought he would cooperate, he stuck it up again. He keeled over in a fit of laughter when you and Holly panicked again.

"Look at them!" He shouted. "They're so fucking scared!"

You knew out in the middle of the swamp, nobody could hear you scream. So you used it to your advantage.

"Jason, you're going in the car, or under it." You raised your voice. "I will mow your drunk ass down like eight day old roadkill right here in this field and you will be LUCKY if anyone finds your bloated, shit-covered remains before the crocodiles get a whiff of you."

That seemed to get his attention.

"Sorry, boys." He pouted. "You heard her."

He had to 'get you' one final time, though. Only that time, the gun went off. Just centimeters from your ear. You clutched the side of your head, trying to drown out the deafening ringing with your screams.

You vaguely remembered Holly pistol-whipping Jason before loading you into the car to drive you to the hospital, leaving him desolate and drunk in the field.

"It was a one-in-a-million shot." The otolaryngologist tried not to sound impressed at what was clearly some kind of anomaly very few got to witness in a medical career. "When the bullet fired, the gunpowder traveled down your ear canal, burning the cells of your auditory nervous system and... singing your eardrum... clean off."

Your eyes widened. "Off?!"

The doctor lowered her head. "I'm sorry, Miss [L/N]. I'm afraid you'll never return to full hearing again."

You didn't want to kill the messenger. You knew she was only doing her job. "Are you fucking kidding me?!"

"If we could do a tympanoplasty, which, given the condition of the drum, is unlikely-" she began. "There would still be no way to fully repair the hair cells along the ear canal."

You took deep breaths to try and quell your simmering rage. "I'm leaving for Juilliard in three months."

"Hearing aid technology has improved significantly over the last decade." She said, a somewhat hopeful upturn in her voice.

That was when your mother decided to join in on the conversation. "Oh, we can't afford that."

You thought you were going to crush your teeth into bits from how tightly your jaw was clenched in fury. "Take it out of Jason's college fund, then."

"Oh, [F/N]." She said as if you had just told the funniest joke imaginable. "Please. That wouldn't be fair to Jason."

"You can afford to send that blithering idiot to the Citadel." You hissed. "You can afford to buy me a hearing aid so I can play piano."

"Beethoven was entirely deaf." Your mom pointed out. "And he became the greatest composer of all time. It's really just mind over matter, sweetie-"

"Sure, that makes perfect sense!" You plastered on a deranged smile, feeling driven to the brink of madness. "I can repair my destroyed eardrum with the power of positive thinking! Jason gets thirty-five thousand dollars a year to play soldier, but I have to just use my imagination."

She covered her face with her hands as if she was being attacked and went into kicked-puppy mode. "Don't be mad at Jason, [F/N]. He didn't mean to hurt you-"

"Fuck this." You said, releasing all your tension in those two words. "Fuck all of this. I'm tired of you defending that chauvinist asshole. The next time you see me will be when one of us is dead."

"Where are you going?!" She wailed.

You snatched your purse from the table and threw it over your shoulder. "I'm moving out."

“Disgraced at age nineteen?" Master Strange said, leaning back on the piano. "Let me guess, you turned to alcohol to cope?"

"You'd think, but actually no." You shook your head. The tone of the conversation had taken a sharp left turn from sadness to dry, apathetic amusement. "I probably would have if I could have afforded it."

"You missed out." He said. "Drinking a whole bottle of eighty year old scotch was definitely the highlight of my grieving period."

You'd never joined the clauses 'Master Strange' and 'drunk off his ass' in the same sentence before then. It was an odd mental picture for sure. One you needed to see to believe.

"I got desperate." You admitted. "Luckily, New Orleans had a lot to offer someone like me, so I didn't have to go far to find people claiming to have answers. But it was all essential oils, incense, binaural beats-"

"I'm sorry," he cut in. "What kind of dickhead suggests binaural beats to someone with only one functioning ear?"

You threw up your hands. "Right? Doesn't make sense. Anyway, I came across a woman named Mistress Fantina and she pointed me in the right direction. How to heal my body through control of my spirit."

He looked at you with that fascination of the human body characteristic of those in the medical field. "It worked, I assume?"

"I figured it out." You shrugged. "But I got so invested in the Mystic Arts that I forgot all about Juilliard. Became a full-time student. Ever since, I never once thought about returning to my old life."

"I suppose if I'd discovered this world because I had lost, say, my ability to perform surgery, it would be hard to leave it behind and return to the operating room." He thought out loud. Sighing, he closed his hand over his watch. "But no matter how medical science evolves, you can't reverse death."

You let the quiet linger for a moment.

#doctor strange #doctor strange x you #doctor strange x reader #stephen strange x reader #doctor stephen strange #stephen strange #dr stephen strange #stephen strange x you #what if #what if marvel #doctor strange supreme #tw guns #tw abusive parent

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wayward-mikaelson · 4 years ago

Text

I Still Want You, I Still Need You--VII. A Chance (NSFW)

Word Count: 4510

About: A few years have passed and you have adjusted to motherhood. Steve and Tony pay you a visit. You and Steve talk about a moment you guys had.

Characters: Okoye, Olivia (OC), Steve, Tony, Pepper (Mentioned), M’Baku (Mentioned), Bucky (Implied Return)

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader

Warnings/Tragger Warnings: Language, Sexual Content (Unprotected-Wrap it before you tap it, Oral-F Receiving)

A/N: This part is bit long cause it’s full of details. Also who knew that about Steve?!

*This contains content meant for the 18 and up crowd. Read at your own discretion

**Please do not copy and paste my work anywhere. Reblogs and sharing the link is just fine.

***This work is posted on other sites

****Go follow my other accounts. Links can be found in the pinned post on my profile.

*****Currently NOT taking requests

******Feedback is welcomed!!

Forever Tags: @hobby27 @donnaintx @myinconnelly1 @elansaidaris @magssteenkamp @440mxs-wife

Marvel Tags: OPEN

Story Tags: @cspr-2 @mysticalfestivalkoala @tanyaherondale @lilithknight1111 @lpzallana @snlsamantha @tomisagod @gloriouspersonbanditrascal @buckysgirl101

Bucky/Sebastian Tags: OPEN

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VI. Hello, Sweet

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Four years came and went.

You fell naturally into motherhood. Olivia was a good baby. She slept well during the night unless she had been teething up a storm. Those days you drank all the coffee you could. There were days you had a hard time but Okoye was there to help out and so did Steve whenever he came by. Steve and you grew closer as he helped you with Olivia. You called him super Uncle. The love and adoration that was always on Steve’s face, made you feel like you can almost move on. But the idea always scared you.

Olivia was a smart kid. She was a Stark to a T. She got her hands on just about anything and would make things. And for an almost four year old, it was extremely impressive. Impressive that Tony would sent little building kits for her and she would get them done in a few days with your help. She had the attitude of a Stark but she had the heart of a Barnes. Just like Steve predicted.

Your daughter��s facial expressions were one hundred percent Bucky’s. The way smiles played on the corner of her little lips down to the way she expressed herself with her eyes. Her long hair remained dark as well as her blue eyes. She was a miniature version of Bucky. Steve even said that each time he came back to visit, Olivia looked more and more like him.

Olivia was the calm to the the storm you had been through.

She kept you from falling apart.

She kept you whole.

But yet, you never moved on from losing Bucky.

You walked into the lab to find Olivia in the same place you had left her. She obsessed over the erector set Tony sent her. Tony loved to spoil his niece, just like you loved to spoil yours. A few months after Tony and Peppers wedding, Pepper had become pregnant and shortly after Olivia was born, so was Morgan. Whenever you went to visit them, which was the only time you left Wakanda, the two girls were inseparable. It killed you and Tony to see them have to part ways.

“What are you building this time, bug?” you asked as you sat next to her. Her dark hair hung around her face. She had always refused to where hair bands unless it was to bed.

“A rower coatter,” Olivia’s face popped through the hair, a huge smile on her face. The smile took your breath away. “Can you picture it to Unca Twony?” She loved it when you sent her completed works to Tony. And Tony loved it too.

“Sure thing,” you leaned forward and kissed the top of her head. “How about this weekend we go see them? I’m sure Morgan and you can find something in Uncle Tony’s workshop.” Olivia’s eyes lit up when you said Morgan and workshop. When the two of you would visit, Tony and you would find the girls in Tony’s workshop. You had to convince him to make a small space for the girls since they were always found there.

You sat down at your work table and began to fumble with the scrap metal in front of you. You made it your mission to get cleaner and better filtered water to the Border Tribe after discovering their wells were either running dry or had harmful bacteria in them. It took you a week and a lot of using that Stark charm to get M’Baku to agree to your aqueduct like creation.

“All I need to do is come up with good design,” you whispered to yourself.

After an hour of fumbling and putting pieces together. You finally came up with the perfect example. Now, all you need to do is email Tony what you need.

After hitting send on your email, you looked up to see Okoye walk into the lab. Over the last few years, the two of you have grown closer and could count on each other. You trusted her with yours and Olivia’s life.

“Okie,” Olivia shouted and ran to the woman. Okoye knelt down and let Olivia jump into her arms. Okoye had grown so fond of Olivia that she would take her out with the other members of the guard to show her what they were doing. Olivia loved it.

“How are you little Tiger?” Okoye kept the little nickname for Olivia from when she was in the womb. She has proven to be just that too.

“Good,” then off Olivia went back to her little work table. A true Stark never fully leaving their work undone.

“I see you got your aqueduct done,” Okoye came over to you. “When will we be able to get this done?”

“As soon as Tony can send me what I need, we will be able to get it up and running.” You pushed back from the table. “How’s the guard doing? Were they able to get the barrels of water out there?”

Since finding out about the water situation, you and Okoye decided it would be best to send water until you figured out what you needed to do. So Tony sent twelve barrels to fill with water, even though you asked for six. Tony somehow knew you would need more. Once a week Okoye and the guard would swap out six for six new ones. It was a good process.

“They did,” Okoye crossed her arms and watched Olivia. “This water should last more than a week. They had two barrels still full.”

“Good, that gives us enough time to get this thing built and get them water,” You stood up and made your way around the table.

“I haven’t seen Steve around these last few weeks,” Okoye gave you a side eye and smirk.

“I may have made our friendship awkward,” you said walking to get water. You slightly cringe at the last conversation the two of you had about a month ago. Since then Steve only called or texted you. Making the conversations brief.

“How could you make it awkward? It’s not like you two slept together…”Okoye’s chuckle died as she saw your face. “You slept with him, didn’t you?”

You pressed your lips into a thin line. Did you regret it? Nope, it was the first time in years you could let yourself just go like that. Was it the right time for something like that? Nope, but you thought it was and the next morning you had to tell Steve that.

“I did and it was great,” you closed your eyes as you remembered that night. “Then when morning came, some switch flipped and I just couldn’t do it. I wasn’t ready.” Your voice began to shake as you remembered the exact moment you knew you weren’t ready to move on.

Okoye reached out and touched your shoulder. “It’s okay. Someday you will. Tiger will need a father figure to look up to. Steve Rogers is that kind of man.”

Okoye was right. Steve was the right kind of man and you knew deep down you should maybe at least give him a chance. “I’ll call him this evening when I’m settled down for the night.” Then you replayed that night in your head.

The tension.

The kiss.

The feeling of his skin on yours.

The warmth of his breath on your bare skin.

***

You sat on the couch mindlessly flipping through a magazine, while you sipped on your beer. You rarely drank so you always wanted to keep it light. Steve was putting Olivia to bed and seemingly, it sounded like it was going well. She normally tries every kind of tactic to stay up later. When a door opened, you looked up to see Steve walking your way.

“Asleep already?” you asked setting the magazine on the coffee table. “You didn’t drug her did you?”

Steve laughed and sat on the couch next to you. He cracked open a beer and took a long drink. “Nope, she just wanted four stories and by the time I got through the third one, she was out.”

You leaned over and rested your head on Steve’s shoulder. You swore you felt his muscles tense for split second. “You are a life saver!”

Steve gave a light chuckle. “Tell me whats new? How’s Tony and them doing?”

“Still won’t talk to you huh?” you leaned away. You saw the hardness in those blue eyes. Tony still held some feelings towards Steve. You tried a few times to get Tony to just move on and forgive him for whatever it was. But Tony was a Stark.

“Nope,” Steve emphasized the P in nope.

“Well, they're doing good, Liv and I are going to see them next weekend,” you poked your finger into Steve’s arm. “You can come, you know? He’s asks about you too.”

Steve leaned forward and folded his hands. “I can’t,” he said not making eye contact. “I have that group i’ve been leading.”

You stood up with a huff and walked to the small kitchen. “You and your fucking excuses Steve Rogers. You and Tony are like freaking teenage girls who had a stupid fight and wont talk to each other.” You turned to see that Steve had gotten up and had his hands on his hips. “I’m just saying,” you turned to wash the few dishes in the sink. “You guys were the best of friends. You guys hung out almost all the time.”

You didn’t hear Steve come up beside you. You jumped a little but realized he was helping by drying the dishes. “That’s not why I hung out with him. People just assumed that, I just wanted to be closer to you and for the fucking life of me, I couldn’t man up and ask you out.” You rarely ever heard Steve swear. It surprised you each time.

But that wasn’t what made you drop the plate. You looked towards Olivia room and hoped that she didn’t wake up. You were in the clear.

“For years,” Steve continued as he turned to you. You just stood there and stared at the plate in the sink. The water spilling from the faucet, splashing water droplets around the sink. “I watched you with guy after guy. Almost dying in New York and then almost dying in Sokovia. I wouldn’t know what I would have done if you had.” Steve turned you with his hands. You kept your eyes on the ground. “The that day when Bucky went back on ice, that smile you two exchanged, I knew it was too late. I couldn’t be mad. The two you were perfect for each other.”

“Steve…” you stared to say but he shushed you.

“Then you lost Bucky and that literally almost killed.” Steve took his free hand and lifted your face to meet his eyes. They were soft and you saw just about every emotion he was felling. “Seeing you on that building ledge, I didn’t just pull you back for Bucky’s sake. I pulled you back for mine.”

Whatever happened next, it was beyond you. You didn’t know how it happened, but you found yourself closing the gap between you and Steve and pressing your lips firmly to his. His lips were soft and gentle. It was like something took possession of you body. Steve placed both hands on the side of your face and pulled away.

“You’re not kissing me because I told you how felt?” Steve asked resting his forehead on yours.

“I don’t know.” you answered honestly. Your eyes were closed and you were breathing hard. You really weren’t certain why you kissed Steve. He was never more than just a friend. But these last few years he’s been there for you and Olivia. “Just roll with it.”

And Steve did.

Steve pressed his lips back to yours and deepened it. One of his hands slowly makes its way to the back your neck, while the other goes down to you waist. It grips firmly as he backs you into the living room.Your arms instinctively wrapped around his neck. Steve’s tongue slid across your bottom one, causing you to groan.

“Not here,” you slightly pulled away. “My room.”

Steve’s hand left your neck and shot down your waist. Without any effort, he picked up. You wrapped your legs around his waist as he wrapped his strong arms around you. Steve started towards your room. You buried your face into his neck and felt his body tense up and him suck in a breath.

Once in the room and the door closed, Steve had your back pressed to the door. His breath was by your ear. Sending chills down your back and making you ache for him between your legs. “I am going to take my time with you,” he whispered in your ear, sending yet another chill down your back.

“Show you me what you got, Captain,” you rolled your hips into his already hard erection. Even thorough your cotton pajama shorts, you could feel his cock straining against his jeans as it twitched.

Steve’s eyes grew dark as he spun the two of you around and dropped you on the bed. He bent down and pulled your bottoms and underwear. He saw how wet you were without even having to look at your underwear.

“Someone’s excited,” he teased as he tossed the clothes to the side.

You pushed up on your elbows and gave him a smirk. “I can say the same about you.”

Steve smirked and rose an eyebrow before pulling you legs and placing them over his shoulder. “Let’s see if you taste better than you look.” Without another word, you watched as Steve dove in. His lips meeting your clit and his tongue shooting right inside you.

With a gasp, you shoot a hand to push his face further. The way he licked, sucked, and flicked his tongue around, had you shaking and breathing hard. You couldn’t stop whimpering his name as you felt yourself quickly getting towards that edged.

“Steve,” you whimpered. Your legs pulled him closer and you could feel him hum against your clit as his tongue fucked you. The vibration of his hum was what sent you over the edge. You cried out and both your hands and legs pushed Steve further, if that were possible, into you. Your body shook as your orgasm rocked through your body. And Steve still ate at you until your back fell onto the bed.

You lifted your head up to see Steve stand up and discard his clothes. When his cock sprung free, it had you drooling and you wanted it all inside of you. Steve made his way between your legs and looked at your shirt, with his bare hands, he ripped the fabric off your body throwing it behind him. Looking into his eyes, you could see the hunger and lust. He dipped down and kissed you, tasting your release on his lips. He gripped your hands in his and placed them above your head.

“I want to hear you say it again,” Steve mumbled against your lips. You felt himself line up with your entrance.

You know what he meant. “Fuck me, Captain.”

With that, Steve slipped inside you effortlessly. A soft moan escaped your lips letting Steve’s tongue shoot into your mouth. Once he was fully inside you, he waited until you were adjusted before he started to move in and out of you slow. You slowly lifted your hips but Steve used a hand to pin them back.

“I don’t think so, sweetheart,” he hummed as he peppered kisses to your jawline.

“Well,” you wrapped your legs around his waist. “If you don’t do anything about that slow movement, I will have no choice but to take control.”

Steve pulled out all the way and then slammed right back into you. You cried and moaned as he grunted as the pleasurable action was repeated. His cock slid against your wall in the most beautiful way. You arched your back into his chest each time his cock hit your cervix. His pelvic bone rubbed your clit perfectly, making you moaning, whimpering mess under him. The pressure on you hands and hip being pinned, added to the mess you already were in.

Begging him not to stop.

Pleading him to keep going.

Calling him things, you never thought you would call him before.

It all was bringing you closer to the edge.

Soon, Steve’s thrusting slowed but they were still hard and deep. His grunt were deeper, inside his chest. He let go of your hands and hip and wrapped his arms around you. You did the same. You knew you were at the edge and you knew that Steve was close too. You pushed his face up and see could see the love he had in that moment in his eyes. It was all for you.

“Cum for me,” you whispered.

With one hard thrust, Steve spilled right into you and triggered your orgasm. Your bodies shook together and your breaths were still uneven as the both of you came down. Steve pushed himself up and cupped your face with hand. He leaned down and kissed you slowly. There was no hunger behind it. Just love and passion. Then he rolled over and pulled you into his arms before the two of you fell asleep.

In that moment, everything felt right.

Morning came when Steve gently woke you up. He sat on the side of the bed and brushed back some hair. “Hey,” his voice was gentle. “Breakfast is ready and Liv wanted to show you the pancake we made you.”

You sat up and stretched. “What time is it?”

“Eight, you deserved a morning to sleep in. Especially after last night.” Steve leaned in and brushed his lips against yours. “I’ll let you get ready.”

Once you were alone, you slid out of bed and went to the closet. When you turned the light on, your eyes landed on a box that was labeled BUCKY.

***

You were putting things away as you thought about that morning. You had just told Olivia to pick up her space for the day when you turned around and froze. There stood Steve and Tony. Their faces told you that they meant business.

Olivia squealed when she saw the two men and ran towards them. Steve hugged her while he made eye contact with you. Then Olivia jumped into Tony’s arms. He picked her up and he had the biggest smile on his face. She pointed towards her project and mumbled something. Tony’s face just lit up.

“I guess while I’m here, we can get you something else,” He told her as she wiggled out of his arms. “Sorry, dear,” he said as he and Steve approached. “We would have called but what we have to tell you has to be said in person.”

You gulped. Tony’s tone had you wondering what he needed to say. Steve just stood to the side and had his hands on his hips. His eyebrows furrowed. Taking a deep breath you turned to a random guard that was placed there to watch over you guys. “Can you take her to Okoye?”

The woman took Olivia’s hand and walked out with her. You turned to the two men but it was Steve you addressed. “What’s going on?”

“You may want to sit down for this,” Steve said.

You looked to Tony and he nodded. “Okay,” you sat in your chair. “What is it?”

“We may have found a way to bring everyone back.”

You froze. Coolness filled your body and in the wake of it washing over you, goosebumps followed. Your breathing got stuck in your throat as and you grabbed your water and chugged the rest of it. Your ears were ringing and couldn’t hear what was being said by Steve or Tony.

“Let her breath, Rogers,” Tony’s hand was instantly on your back. “Gosh! We said we would ease her into this. Not dump it on her all at once.”

“How?” you choked out.

“Time travel,” Tony gently said as he sat on your table. “Do you remember Scott Lang? Well he helped me make it possible.”

Then you laughed. You laughed so hard that nearly fell out of your chair. “Time travel?” you asked trying to catch your breath. “You guys are going to go back into time and stop Thanos? What would that mean for us? I wouldn’t get Bucky back. 2018 me would still have Bucky and raise a child with him.”

Tony shushed you with his finger on your mouth. “Slow down, little sister. We are going back to get the stones and bring them to our time. Hoping it’ll work.”

You leaned back in your chair and folded your arms across your chest. You stared at Steve, who couldn’t take his eyes off you. “Do you think this will work?” You asked them both.

“We have to try, right?” Steve responded. “We owe it to those we lost. If not, then we just go on with life.”

You took a deep breath and just stared into space. You thought deeply about what was being said. You could get your husband back. Olivia could have her father. But what happens if this doesn’t work? Then you’re heartbroken all over again. You didn’t have the stomach to have such hope that they were serving to you on a silver plater. But yet, here you were taking it. Because that’s that just who you were.

“Okay,” you stood up. “Then I’m coming with you guys.”

“Nope, thats a huge ass pile of nope,” Tony said standing up too. “You missy, are staying here.”

“I agree,” Steve said.

“You have Olivia to care for,” Tony started to say.

“And you have Morgan,” you pointed out.

“She has two parents,” Tony said taking your shoulders in his hands. “Olivia only has one. For now. And if this were to go sideways and something happens to me, I need you there for Pepper.”

You took another deep breath. Tony was right. “Okay.”

“Perfect,” Tony said letting you go. “Now, I am going to go look for my darling niece and buy her something extravagant.” Tony walked out of the lab leaving you and Steve looking at each other.

The tension in the air was almost suffocating. You knew Steve didn’t want to look at you, he kept darting his eyes away from your each time you looked towards him. It wasn’t that the morning after sleeping with him was bad. There wasn’t even an argument. You just simply told him as you held one of Bucky’s shirts with a few tears in eyes that you couldn’t. That you needed some time.

Well, if this time travel thing works, then there goes the time you needed.

“You know,” you walked over to Steve. “I’m getting the feeling that you are partly on board with this.”

Steve looked down at the ground and then back at you. “What makes you say that?”

You made a face at him. “One, I’ve known you for over a decade. Two, you’re looking at me like you want to throw me on something and have your way with me. But you can’t because you’re best friend, also my husband could be coming back.”

Steve cracked a smile that disappeared just as fast. “It’s just horrible timing on my end. I’m fully on board with this.”

“Good,” you started to leave and turned back to Steve. “If this doesn’t work out, I’ll give us a shot. See where us goes.”

“And if Bucky comes back and he finds out about that night?”

“Then I tell him the truth,” you shrugged your shoulders. “In fact, I will just tell him. He’s been gone for five years. He would have expected me to move on. Now, let’s find my brother before he buys Liv something that’s too big to fit in my apartment.”

***

A few days have went by. Tony had sent the stuff you needed to get water to the Border Tribe. You and some volunteers set to work on getting it all started. It was hard long work that you decided to stay in your old house with Olivia. It made it easier to wake up and get to work and let Olivia play with the other children.

On the fourth day, you were ready to break ground when you noticed a change in the air. The same kind of change five years ago. You shook your head and passed it of as just thinking too much into it. You were too tired, you could barely sleep in that house still. You stayed up most nights as your mind raced with memories. And emotions.

“Let’s take a few hours,” you said to the others as you got up. You could barely concentrate. Today was the day that you brother and friends went on that time travel mission. You couldn’t help but worry about it going wrong. You were waiting for word about if it worked or not.

Olivia ran up to you and jumped into your arms. She nuzzled her face into your neck and you let out a soft sigh. She always knew when you needed hugs the most. She pulled back and took your face in her tiny, little hands. Her clear blue eyes stared deep into yours. She didn’t have to say anything to tell you that everything will be fine no matter what happened.

“I wuv you, Mommy,” she said.

“I love you, too, Tiger,” you gave her little butterfly kisses and set her down. “Can you take her back to the lab? I’m gong to take a few minutes and catch up later.”

“Yes, Missus Barnes,” the guard said taking your daughters hand in theirs.

When you alone you started to stare at the supplies in front of you. You wondered if this was actually enough. You wanted this to work so bad, you almost didn’t hear the snap of a twig behind you. You snapped your head up to listen for it again. Taking a deep breath you shook you head and went back to shuffling through the metal before you.

A twig snapped again.

You picked up a thin, but long piece of metal. “Whoever you are, you may want to think twice about who you sneak up on.”

You spun around, swinging the metal as you went. Something, well more like someone stopped your swing. You froze when you realized who had stopped your swing. A chill ran through your body. You know the color drained from your face. Those blue eyes were just as surprised as you were. They searched yours for some kind of answer.

Your hands fell and so did the metal. You took a step back only to lose your footing. He stepped forwards and grabbed your arms pulling you back towards him.

“Careful there, Doll.”

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popculturebuffet · 4 years ago

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Top 20 Animated Episodes of 2020 Part 1 (#20-#11)

Hello Hello Hello animation fans! And welcome to something i’ve wanted to since last year. See I had the idea for a best episodes list back in 2019: rather than do a best shows list, which would be only about half of 20+ shows anyway, I thought i’d do a best episode lists: to give as many shows a possiblitiy to shine as possible while still honoring the best of the year. But my own natural foibles got the better of me: I INSISSITED on watching everything I missed.. then just kept putting THAT off until it was was spring, shows were coming back and I just threw up my hands. I’ve regretted it ever since and vowed, especially since in the interim animation went from just being something I analyized for fun to my analyzing it for fun AND profit, to get it done this year. So I had to make a few caveats. First I gave myself at first till the 31st of the year and then due to covid and everything that happened, until the end of the first week or so of the year, i.e. today, to watch as much as I could. So several shows are missing. Some I REALLY got behind on and don’t have an excuse for (Craig of the Creek and Big City Greens), others I also really liked but my depression made it really hard to watch (F is for Family and very nearly Bojack), some I just kept putting off ever starting or forgot to start entirely (Hilda, yes even since season 1, Kipo: Age of the Wonderbeasts and It’s Pony) and some.. I gave up because as you can tell I sit on shows way too often (Ilve action wise I still need to get back to Doom Patrol), and I realized i’d rather watch stuff old and new I care about than waste time with something that I just stopped liking, i.e. Rick and Morty and Big Mouth which i’m guaranteed some flack for saying but I dont’ care. I have my reasons, and while I originally GAVE those reasons I decided to leave them out: this list is not about me bitching about why I quit certain shows. I’m a grown ass man, I can quit a show anytime, and given last year was such a craphole, I think we could use less piss and vinegar and more sugar. So before we begin, a bit about the state of animation last year: It was in flux. WIth a new decade dawning we got great new shows like Owl House, Close Enough, which in a year full of terrible suprises not only FINALLY got released but did so with a second season order, Solar Opposities, the Midnight Gospel and Kipo: Age of Wonderbeasts. Ducktales returned for it’s best season ever. Amphibia returned for a pretty good season. Disney brought back the wonderful mickey mouse shorts towards the end of the year, FINALLY given D+ some non-movie animated content. The Casagrandes got better as it went and just barely didn’t make this list and the Loud House kept on trucking and shows no signs of stopping with a season renewal and a movie coming out. And Adventure Time staged a comeback a few years after it died and while I haven’t seen BMO yet, Obsidian was fantastic and only barely didn’t make the list.

Not only that but we got great new series announced for the next two years: Lumberjanes is FINALLY getting adapted and by Noelle Stevenson herself. Gendy Tarkovsky is not only returning to children’s animation but with a wonderously weird concept about immortal unicorns turned into teens> There’s a promising show about a ghost and a plucky tween coming this summer. The Rise of the TMNT movie is still happening. Craig McCracken is also coming back. But naturally given this was 2020 the news wasn’t all good as we said goodbye to a lot of shows.. and this was after 2019 already took several from us, OK KO still being the hardest loss to this day and Star Vs very disapointing finale still leaving a bad taste in my mouth: Most gutpunchingly, the two frontrunners of animation at the time, shows that truly changed the game and probably gave other shows a chance at life they never would’ve had, including some on this list, ended.

Steven Universe took it’s final bow after we got one last trip to beach city with the Future miniseries, with the show ending gracefully and beautifully, and having pulled off it’s third succesive possible ending for the franchise and it’s defntive ending for steven’s story. Bojack did the same not long before, ending on a bittersweet but beautiful note and with a one two punch of the series best episode and i’ts second best episode, a satsifying but bittersweet finale we’ll get to. Both shows as I said have set hte standards and tones for most animation after them, and both’s absence is felt. She Ra suprisingly ended, though with a beautiful and wonderful finale we’ll, again, get to, and on i’ts own terms, but given it was the most likely to take up the shield from steven, it was another punch. Less peacefully was the ending of Rise of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, a show I caught up on after it’s demise which was screwed by the network over toy sales because that’s.. still.. a thing.

There is a light of hope, as the movie is somehow still in production and if it does well we may get season 3, but it’s dim and given the show, despite it’s flaws, had found itself and the finale, which they were given weeks to put together, was spectacular and, say it with me now “we’ll get to that”, I really hope it does. And that nick learns how to run an animation company for fuck’s sake.

Infnity Train while not dead, is on life support despite having it’s best season in season 2 and an okay season that still tackeled racisim very well even if story wise the season faltered, at a time when we REALLY need to tackle racisim in our entertaiment period. Venture Bros meanwihle was just flat out canceled for no given reason despite both having as eason renewal order and you know, being Adult Swim’s highest rated and best show for over a decade. Like Infinity Train and Rise there’s a SCRAP of hope, both adult swim and hbo max are apparently looking into ways to bring it back so a finale movie or a season 6 comic are propable, but given the show ended on two big cliffhangers, and given 2020 already had pushed back a LOT of things I’d looked forward to for good reason, and had now just outright killed a show, it was a massive shattering blow and easily the biggest of the year. But coming VERY close was finding out Ducktales was ending. While the finale would serve as a proper finale, I feel the show easily could’ve had more seasons.. Disney just dosen’t let shows go on forever, or sometimes not even for a reasonable amount.. or put those shows it didn’t let go on a resonable amount on Disney Plus.. and I will be bringing that last part up until Wonder Over Yonder is FINALLY put on the platform, along with MANy other shows. Figure it out. But yeah that was ANOTHER show I thought would lead the way and like Gravity Falls lead to Ducktales, Ducktales will probably lead to more shows including HOPEFULLY a frank and matt lead Darkwing Duck.. and even that’s in jeapordy since instead it might be done by Seth Rogan’s company who while not bad people and if their working on Frakn’s reboot great.. are not the people who spent three seasons setitng up a reboot in a unvierse they already spent three seasons deftly crafting. I DOUBT Frank won’t be involved since Let’s Get Dangerous was promoted to hell and back, but again given this is disney.. it worries me and I won’t be settled on this till we get conformation of a proper reboot with frank and matt at the helm.

Point is it was a rough year for animatoin even without covid taken into account pushing back seasons and forcing a change in work habits. But as this list attests even in the worst year in recenet memory, here’s hoping 2021 dosen’t say hold my beer, there was some damn fine animation, including some of the best i’ve ever seen and the shows that did leave or are getting ready to gave us one hell of a show. Before we get started one last bit of buisness for transparency: As I said i missed some shows and others I did watch but given despite this list’s sheer size it was still VERY tight, for the record each show got four nominees a piece, and some had even more episodes considered before widdling it down, and even at the 40 episode mark there were some tough cuts and by the end it was brutal. So here’s the show’s considered.

Shows Watched: Steven Universe Future, Infinity Train, Close Enough, She Ra, Ducktales, Amphibia, The Loud House, The Casagrandes, Rise of the TMNT, Animaniacs, Wonderful World of Mickey Mouse, Adventure Time: Distant Lands, Solar Opposites, Bojack Horseman, The Owl House, The Midnight Gospel Shows That Did Not Make the Final List: The Loud House, The Casagrandes, Animaniacs, The Wonderful World of Mickey Mouse, Adventure Time: Distant Lands, and Solar Opposites. Final note: all episode’s i’ve done reviews of at the time of this list will have links in the title to said reviews in case your curious So with that in mind , here’s my top 20 list, part 1.. becasue these posts are going to be long as hell so I needed to split up gang. On with the show after the cut as this is a really damn long one

20. Fragments (Steven Universe Future) “I bow to your strength.. my Diamond” Steven Unvierse’s final act was a masterstroke. The show ended with every major conflict resolved as the Diamonds decided , if only for Steven’s sake at first, to change their ways and helped him restore the corrupted gems, while Lars made it home. Our heroes were FINALLY, after seasons and almost two in-story years, as Steven “Finally Done, Finally Us, Finally Me”, the last part being especially pogniant since, while done thanks to a horrifying action on whites part, his breif seperation PROVED there was nothing of rose left; She’s gone. So Future uses this cleverly: With the conlfict of the movie resolved things were still very nice.. but eventually Steven started breaking down piece by piece: As the series went on it became clear what it was: A deconstuction of some of the less healthy part of the mostly fairly healthy and wonderful main show. It showed just what happen when someone whose put his identity into having some kind of destiny, someone whose felt their purpose in life is to make other people’s better and solve their problems and be a good person.. has no issues to solve. Oh sure there’s an antagonist here and there and Jasper refuses to change or admit no third great gem war is coming and that peace really has come.. but his family are finally happy with who they are, and are moving on with their lives. As someone whose had people move on without them and whose clunt to people this hits close to home.. hits close to home a lot.

So as the season went on Steven clung to everything, taking it VERY badly when Lars and Sadie not only revealed their attempt at a relationship failed after years of build up, and never told steven because they thought it wasn’t his buisness, which is true to a point as them breaking up isn’t anything to do with him but someone should’ve told him it was amicable given the amount of shit he’s seen between you two, just saying. But it still meant a good chunk of his friends leaving town, and him, behind. Attempts to fillt his gap with tv watching or gardneing, aka what the crew amazingly dubbed “Depression Hobbies:”, a term that hits close to home, failed and then a far WORSE attempt to fill the void in his life by proposing to connie failed.. she turned him down firmly, but gently recognizing this was a terrible idea, they were too young, and he was clearly going through some stuff. As garnet put it “Your partner is your compliment, not your missing piece”. Another beautiful term to stick in my brain.

So as if this wasn’t bad enough his body started mutatating and it turned out the pink form he’d gained was actually supposed to just be his body’s version of adrenline, but since he’d spent years in constnat struggle, his body was treating his emotinal stress like do or die situations with predictable results. We’ll get to that more in a bit but needless to say steven’s family were concerned and Greg returned from managing Sadie to TRY and help his son.. only to drive a wedge between them as Greg’s Smothering Parents seemed like the life Steven never had, instead of obnoxious people who refused to reconcile with their son even decades later despite plenty of effort on greg’s end and Greg having to raise a child alone with only marginal support from the gems at best at first. But Greg’s tragic inablity to see his son was hurting, as with everyone elses lead to him nearly getting them hurt in a car accident and thus this episode. After getting chewed out by the gems, who tragically simply don’t realize what’s wrong with steven, can’t figure out why themselves and he refuses to tell them, Steven runs off, to the one person who would never tell the gems where he is and the last place they’d expect him to go at his lowest: Jasper. And thus we get one of the darkest and moodiest episodes of the show’s long history.

After having lost a lot of his sense of peace of mind: his best friends are gone, his girlfriend is next, his parents and sister are constantly busy, there’s no one for him to turn to. Steven NEEDS someone like him and while his family is trying they just don’t know how to reach him and deep down he dosen’t WANT them to. Like me at times, shocker I know, he fears deeply that if they knew some of the flaws about him, some of the problems he’s had, they’d hate him. When as time would bear out for both of us, as my first stint of therapy near the end of colllege proved, it just means they understand you better and can HELP YOU.

So instead he turns to Jasper, and he does so for good reason: He wants to control his power and emotions.. the problem is Jasper dosen’t WANT what Steven wants. Steven wants to feel godo again and feel healthy and be the person people want him to be. Jasper.. wants a fight. She wants a diamond, someone to serve, someone stronger than her who will LET her be what she feels she’s meant to be: a warrior, a destroyer, a breaker of worlds. So she slams that steven shaped peg into a round hole, and it’s horrifying and uncomfortable to see our hero turned from a loveable hero.. to a power obssed, almost vegeta-esque asshole .. in short she’s made him into the very thing he spent years fighting against, all because he’s so scared of himself he can’t face himself. It shows just how bad things have gotten: that steven’s hates himself SO MUCH, that he’d rather become something worse than face the truth and let his family help him. So convinced they don’t need him that he needs to be something ELSE.

And so tons of training, abuse and hard labor lead to the moment Jasper and fans had been waiting for: a rematch between the two. And.. it’s easily one of the series best fights. For a series that’s at it’s core about ending the cycle of violence and often big exchanges of words and someone emotinally healing are treated as big as victories in combat.. the show has some of the best fight scenes in cartoons period, and this being the penultimate one, we’ll get to the last one next time, it’s a brutal, dbz style slugfest, something unlike the other fights in the show, with two opponents full of rage and hate going at it with everything they have.. ending in Steven, for one breif terrifying moment having BECOME what his grandmothers and mother used to be: A sadstic monster drunk on their own power “Your right jasper, I WAS holding back”

But when we next see Steven, running into the house and ingoring his rightfully concerned family..... he’s not that guy anymore. He’s back to who he was at the start of the episode: A scared teenager who deeply hates himself and who wants to be better but is ironically shutting out the only people who can help him. And one.. whose committed murder. This was a VERY bold move to make: Steven KILLED SOMEONE. Sure it was shattering so it got past censors, but in his lowest moment.. steven did the one thing that to someone who treasures all life, is anthemia to him: he killed, did what his mother did before she changed, did what his aunts have done countless times to countless worlds. And it horrifes him, with him desperate to bring jasper back and using everything he has, his powers and his aunts essences, to try and fix his mistake. And unlike anyone else in his postion he succeeds.. and Jasper, ignoring steven’s attempts to apologize is surprised at first at being shattered, knowing what happened.. befor bowing proudly, FINALLY getting what she was REALLY after: A diamond to serve. And steven can only gaze in horror at what he’d become and at the realization he can’t go back from this and he has no idea what to do now. An utterly grippling, utterly terrifying character piece with some of Zach Callistons best character work in the show’s storied history, with Steven shifting from being drunk on his power to utterly broken at having broken jasper. One of the series finest moments.. only topped by some things the series proper did.. and some more on this list.

19. Perils of Peekablue (She Ra and the Princesses of Power)

“They are my people. Which means most of them have sworn revenge against me at some point “ She Ra was easily one of the best shows of the 2010′s. While it started out excellent, and pretty gay, it ended being a masterpiece, and fabulously gay, as is befitting something related to He Man in some way.

A masterful space opera, She Ra had some great bones in a thrilling love story, great humor, great action and wonderful characters most of them main and supporting going through some form of development. It was a wonderful, magical show and I look forward to Noelle giving Lumberjanes the series treatment, both because the series concept is frankly better built for an ongoing tv series than a monthly comic, and because after this series she has my utmost faith in whatever she does. Also her story about how she both came to terms with her sexuality and met her partner was VERY lovely. Seriously check it out. Also her partner was the one who co wrote another entry on this list, just a fun fact. Point is this show was awesome. But as I said part of the show’s strength was it’s character and that shines on this day in the limelight episode covering what’s going with the rebellion since She Ra shot off into space to rescue her best friend. We do get to see the best friends squad breifly, but their simply heading home: With Catra rescued and on the path to being a better person, and firmly in adora’s lap because again this show is wonderously gay and because it annoys her and Catra gets off on that, our heroes are wondering how everyone else is fairing. So we see that, as with the Rebellion not doing so good against Horde Prime, our heroes seek the solution to their problems with the same solution homer simpson always uses:

Well okay less starting a new life and more getting the help of the mysterious prince peekablue, who I now realize is where the whole pikablue name for merril probbaly came from.. or maybe nerds making things up in the 90′s werne’t that creative. You decide!

So we get the ragtag team of Mermista, Seahawk, Scorpia and Perfuma, as the quartet try to bluff their way to the prince for help. Naturally we get Seahawk being seahawk, i.e. an awesome ham with a voice way older than he looks, Mermista being annoyed by that and being forced to admit she tried out pyromania to see what it’s like, which naturally is the most romantic thing Seahawk’s heard in his whole life.. as well as some VERY charming ship tease between Scorpia and Perfuma as Scorpia enrouages her the two bond and Scorpia finally likes someone who both likes her back and isn’t so obssed with her sorta ex and tied up in her own issues a relationship is impossible. Look I was suprised she found someone else as everyone here, but i’m happys for her. She’s the nicest person on this show and is now dating the second nicest person on this show. It’s nice okay. 2020 didn’t give me much nice, it gave me the emotoinal equilvent of being constnatly stung by hornets.

We also get a lovely musical number from Scorpia about being a spy.. and the revelation Peekablue.. is just Double Trouble. THEIR BACK BABY. It was nice for them to make a comeback for one last apperance and they do provid vallid information.. but prove to not be too useful despite this both due to their habit of being only out for themselves, hence setting up an elaborate cabaret act under the ocean.. and because Mermista got chipped by the crowd, so now our heroes are stuck in a giant coffin surronded by the thing she can manipulate. It’s only through a harrowing sacrifice by scorpia that Perfuma and Seahawk escape but with their sorta partners now brainwahsed to the other side. To amp up the tension back home.. things are even worse as Spinerlla, whose been brainwashed for several episodes and seriously worrying her wife Netossa... has made her move and with the rest of the rebellion’s leadership gone, chipped everyone but Frosta and King Micah, who dosen’t last long, meaning not only do our two remaning heroes BARELY escape, but the horde now has, between both plot lines, four really heavy hitters, as later episodes would bear out that Spinerlla is basically the red tornado when it comes to wind powers. Point is perils is a fun, breather episode... that then turns into a still fun but also heartbreaking episode as our heroes loose and loose bad and their only hope is in our ohter heroes making it back to htem in one piece.

18. 100% No Stress Day (Close Enough) “Long story short I owe them three grand” Close Enough.. has not had the easiest existence. It was greenlit in 2017, used it’s pitch reel as the trailer meaning everyone thought it was MUCH farther along, was meant for TBS but got shelved because the show it was to be paired with, The Cops, was created by sexual predator Louis CK. And since he came up and h’es primarily responsible for this show getting shelved for so long... Louis CK is a bastard. He harassed women, literally and metaphorically waved his dick around to show his superiority, knew he could get away with it, and ACTED contrite when caught and rightfuly punished for it by loosing everything.. then has spent the last year or so TRYING to mount a come back, with the help of Dave Chapelle who I lost ALLLLL respect for in recent years, despite not having apologized or done anything that resembles him having actually learned his fucking lesson or tells me that, could he get away with it, he wouldn’t just do it again. I’m taking time out of this unrelated thing ot make sure he does not get ANY power back, as too often preadatory or abusive assholes get away with this and get right back to doing stuff, like say Doug Walker, who I only bring up to remind people he’s a bad person who enabled worst people and abused a lot of innocent critics, and let htem lovingly euologize a man he knew was a preadator in life without telling any of them about said behavior, which he coudl’ve done without outing the victim to the world against her wishes. Because as another episode we’ll get to next time briliantly put it

But now i’m done reminding people of assholes, I can get back to what’s really important: The fact this show is a goddamn miracle. Not only is it as good as I hoped, which let’s face it in this year it was just as likely the show would be the video equilvent of scabies, but it got RENEWED. Turns out it’s being delayed.. was a blessing in disguise as it sidestepped being part of a failed animation block, and instead go to be the first adult animated show on HBO Max with tons of promotion. And judging by the future lineup of adult animated programming.. it’s probably going to be the ONLY good one for a while as other offering includes the prince, about life with the royal family, and a show about a 12 year old whose constantlly going thorugh trauma because they apparently did not get the irony when watching moral orel and also skipped the entire third season. And possibly got some brain damage I dunno. Hopefully will lead to much better shows down the line and actually gets a second chance at life, and even if it clocks in at only two seasons, it’s still a damn miracle and I will acknolwedge it.

So yeah as I said the show is fantastic and was one of my faviorites this year. The show treads some familiar terroitory as it does use the formula from Quintel’s “Regular Show”: Normal problems that spiral into bizzare chaos that still has it’s own effed up internal logic. The thing that honestly makes it BETTER in my opinon, is the passage of time. Quintel is no longer the brighted eyed fresh out of college and menial job guy he was: he’s married with a kid, and that fully informed this project, as instead of being about doofing around in your 20′s, it’s about the pressures of hitting your 30′s: from aging to keeping your relationship fresh to all the perils that come with parenting, to missed opportunities you deeply regret. There’s a lot of good stuff they dig into here, but it never overdies the comedy, simply ads a bit of depth to it. And regular show wasn’t LACKING that by any means, i’m not bashing the show.. i’m just saying Close Enough is starting at the level Regular Show was at at it’s best.. and could easily and handily suprasss it with time it now has.

And I was first given a good and proper introduction via this episode, as it leaked beforehand due to a french animation festival and I couldn’t help reviewing it, as i’d waited quite some time. But honestly while I like the first episode in the all in the show proper, quilty pleasures.. I feel this is a WAY better first episode and shoudl’ve been swapped with Quilty, as it introduces things even better and lets the whole cast shine, and thus is one of two close enough episodes on this list. The episode starts with Emily, the stable but stressed and anxious half our our main couple at the doctors office where we get a great barrage of jokes off the bat, from the laundry setting a blaze leading to one of the series best lines

Naturally this has lead to her body constnatly sleep fighting .. while she’s awake, so Josh, her husband and loveable doofus, offers to take care of errands so she dosen’t implode from the stress. This also displays one of the series best assets: While Josh and Emily are an optimistic and impulsive idiot and a stressed out, often voice of reason.. they actually LOVE each other. It’s like a far more healthy of early seasons homer and marge, where BOTH get in over their head but both clearly love and respect each other, and while Josh CAN be irresponsible.. he still holds down a decent job (Though Emily is more of the breadwinner and her job provides the insurance), is attentive to their daughter candace, and WANTS to be repsonsible. Trust me after countless dom coms where i’ve had to restrain from yelling “GET A DIVORCE” at the screen, it’s nice the tide is turning and Bob’s Burgers has become more of the norm couple wise than the exception. But yeah so the main group splits up: Josh takes candace and his best friend and local weirdo played by Jason Mantzokus every series needs, and easily my favoirite character, Alex to do errands while Bridgette, Alex’s ex husband, Emily’s best friend and both the bbay of the bunch and the most irresponsible one.. gets her high to help her relax.

Both plots are really great: The boys and candace run into a ham shortage, a joke that actually plays better in the pandemic age, and stripper clowns because in the series best gag so far, Alex explains via flashback he bet them they couldn’t make a dog, and one did so.. using his dick.

Just in case you were wondering if JG was enjoying the fact he could use adult humor now, though another part of the series charm is while it freely makes more adult jokes, it dosen’t ever get into gross or dudebro territory. It just means the censors are down and they don’t have to hide beer as soda anymore. They also have to tangle with some hamburgalers who are reselling the meat at rock bottom prices and creating the shortage.. and who deny being hamburgalers despite their tactics being backing up into houses with a large van and stealing hams. OUr heros avoid becmonig meat and naturally end up both in a car chase and then a bet for their lives in a game of Ladder World, josh’s latest game. Meanwhile Emily blazes it and we get a great getting high montage, as it shows BRidgette’s idea does genuinely help a bit.. until they run into Timothy, the teacher at cadance’s school who I hope gets an increased roll as he’s always a delight and this is his best apperance. Depsite the understandable awkwarndess and paranoia of running into your kids teacher while high, being an open minded guy Timothy offers them wine and then weed and even takes Emily punching him when her trip takes a bad turn, giving her a stern but fair “bitch use your words!” before the next seen has him helping her through her issues with some solid advice, allowing her to arrive in home just in time to save her husband and the cave goblin who lives in her house from clown strippers and meat gangsters.. which sounds like one hell of a gay porno. All in all a solid, always hilarous, always charming ep that shows the series off at it’s best.

17. How Santa Stole Christmas! (Ducktales)

“No, no.. Christmas is a SAD story?”

This is my third and hopefully FINAL time talking about this one, though given it has a high chance of showing up on the series best of list, probably not. Not that I mind, this is a VERY good episode, I just don’t have anytihing new left to say. It’s a heartwarming, fresh, engaging christmas special that uses the characters perfectly and for once actually strips down the cast effectively instead of making you wonder where everyone else is, while still giving everyone an apperance. It also has Webby giving Lena (And Violet) an adorable cheek smooch when delivering her parents and I will never not find that fucking precious. Plus it’s gay as hell with plenty of gay subtext between Scrooge and Santa, a sentence I never thought i’d say but i’m so glad i’ts my job to get to type things like that, and said kiss so that helps. But even besides that it’s just REALLY damn good. Again i’m leaving this short both because i’ve talked about this twice now, once when it came out as I do regularly for ducktales and again for my best christmas specials list, but it’s really that good and made it damn high on my bet christmas specials list and is only so low here.. because despite being a terrible year in every other respect we got some REALLY good episodes this year. So yeah this one’s a classic, I love it but i’m tired of talking about it till at least next december. Moving on.

16. Finale (E-Turtle Sunshine of the Spotless Mind, Shreddy or Not, Anatawa Hitorijanai, and Rise) Rise of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles “Oh and Blue your leader now” As I mentioned in the intro. Rise of the TMNT was unjustly canceled this year and even worse got it’s season order chopped in half and was given just weeks to throw together a finale. So it’s remakrable that not only was the season pretty damn good, having the series usual problems of sometimes overdipping into the boys stupidity hence the episode where everyone but Raph keeps eating poison, but also had both great character arcs in Baron Draxum’s reformation and Splinter getting more and more fleshed out and more screne time, and great laughs. Seriously Clothes Don’t Make The Turtle, aka that episode where our heroes end up trapped in an 80′s dress up montage, BARELY didn’t make the list.

And as a longtime fan of the franchise I couldn’t be happier this fresh take, which I was aprhensive about at first because it looked like yet another dumbed down teen titans go ripoff, and given it was dumb to begin with... but instead was a fun action comedy with a lot of really unique and intresting ideas. And despite the rush to finish.. they delivered one hell of a finale and on the high chance season 3 dosen’t happen... it’s a hell of a note to go out on. First things first: yes i’m counting multi parters as one episode. Not more seralized shows like SU Future or Infinity Train, where events can flow in and out, but stories that are clearly one big story, in pieces like the old days. Since hour long episodes of shows are fair game, I felt it only fair that multi parters around the same length as an hourlong special be given the same treatment. Not that any hourlongs made it this year, sorry fans of Obsidian and “Let’s Get Dangerous”, though both are throughly EXCELLENT episodes this was just a tight list.

Okay good. So yeah the finale, split over four episodes, is an epic: taking plot threads from all season and series and weaving them into a well paced, emotoinal, finale. Like previous more serious episode the comedy’s downplayed.. but it doesen’t feel like an entirley diffrent show and works well, and the always great fluid animation was kicked up to 11 for this one. So to make a long story short: in this series shredder is a demonic set of armor, but came back wrong at the end of last season when the food clan revivied him, so while the clan now has him back, they can’t really use him. And current head Foot Recurit, a spunky foot recruit whose failed to rank up despite being tough and ambitious and worthy of it, is at a loss how to reviive her master. The turltes, naturally, end up accidently blundering into the solution as they head into Splinter’s head to find the info to beat Shredder. The show gives splinter easily one of , if not the best, backstories he’s ever had: While at the start the character was highly annoying, being a lazy asshole who didn’t train the boys and did nothing.. the show eventually give us valid reasons WHY he’s like this: he didn’t like being turned into a rat by big bad of season 1 Baron Draxum and thus has depresion over that, had quit fighting since he’d been forced to be a cage fighter by his ex for a while, his ex being a giant spider just in case you thought this would be remotely normal an forgot what show we were talking about and genrally just had no horse in the tight training he usually does in most continuties.

This episode adds another, heartbreaking lair: We find out back when he was Hamato Yoshi, Splinter’s mom left to ward off shredder when he was a boy.. and thus never came back and presumibly died. Understandably he had no time for the clan at that point, constantly defying his grandfather.. and why should he have time for them? They took his mom away for a thankless duty sacrificing herself to stop something he had no way of knowing was real, another reason he never trained the boys. And his grandfather rather than be AT all apologetic clearly, via his actions, thought of this as some great honor and was baffled why Yoshi would have no intrest in repeating his mother’s actions or have any sense of honor, duty or even love for a man who as far as he could tell, threw his mom to the wolves and had no regrets about it. So we see Yoshi as both a rebellious teen and as a movie star throwing out his grandpa.. we see those in reverse of course, but the later scenes give context to those showing why Yoshi was so rude.. because he lost his mom and it still hurts him. HOwever helping her frees the shredder.. but also Karai who bizarely, in this continuity is not only an aincent ancestor of theres but a firm ally instead of either a deadly enemy or a fremeny of sorts. Or Splinter’s dang daughter, one of 2012′s best plot elements.. that was then wasted by turning her into a snek for a while because that show really went off the rails. So it quickly turns from a heartwarming and awkard family reunion.. to our heroes and karai barely escaping with their lives as shredder demolishes the lair, and Draxum, now a good guy after a season’s worth of wonderful chracter development, and Splinter stay behind, with Draxum cleverly bluffing and pretending ot be evil again.. only to try and take out shredder.

Meanwhile we get this series take on “the turtles going to teh woods to retreat” as Raph beats himself up for being a bad leader and our heroes learn to tap into their hamato nimpo.. which basically means super magic ninja powers which allows them to bring back their classic weapons and enhances their magic, as it was never in teh weapons but in them all along. Also April gets Karai in her, phrasing, and a glowing boost to her bat. The result.. is one of the best fights of both the year and the franchise PERIOD, which is what got me to catch up to see the finale because I saw a fan video synching it up to “Spin and Burst”.. and while not a naruto fan.. that song is fucking awesome and that video showed off an utterly marvelous fight. See for yourself

youtube

Seriously I wasn’t kidding. I’ve been a fan of this franchise since 2003. This is one of the best sequences in it’s history with or without the added soundtrack: The fighting is fast, frentic, beautfully animated and cool to watch and perfectly combines the series humor, with our heroes giving out quips and callbacks at the right times, with it’s fast paced and wonderous action. It also shows how far our heroes have come: while PART of it is them having super mystic powers unlocked.. they both had to work to reach those powers, and spirtually rather than phsycially,in the third part, but each power is merly an upgraded versoin of their old weapon powers, ablities they’ve spent the entire series mastering, paticuarlly leo who went from BARELY being able to work his portals to using teleport spam here. While they did pull a power BOOST out of their ass, it would’ve meant nothing had they not been anymore skileld than when they started and it makes the fight feel rewarding and impactful. And it ends with the hamot clan as a whole, with new ally foot recurit aka cassandra jones ina great last minute reveal that they CLEARLY didn’t have time to build up better, and smoke that bitch. Also Leo’s leader now bye. It’s just a damn good finale and I dind’t even get into all the great character stuff, including the great payoff of Casey’s face turn after seeing just how much of a monster the man she always wanted to serve is, and how he’s hurting Splinter, who ACTUALLY cares about her well being despite being an enemy. It’s just good stuff that fits the franchise like a glove but iwth the series own unique stamp on it. Nuff said.

15. Toadcatcher (Amphibia) “Your not upset because you lost the fight, your upset because you lost your friend! Your upset that Anne stood up to you and things between you will never be the same again.” Amphibia was one of the first shows I covered reguarlly and along with Ducktales one of the most popular.. so yeah it’s weird it not only is low on the list, but this is the only represtintive. But this was a high volume year for quality and while the show had other standout episodes like gravity falls tribute “Wax Museum”, Marcy’s introduction “Marcy at the Gates” and noir patische “Little Frogtown”, as this list already shows it was a really tight race. It dosen’t help that while Season 2 isn’t terrible.. it’s a bit more uneven, and unlike season 1 it’s weaker stretches of episodes weren’t as easily covered, as instead of airing every weekday, it was a weekly release. Which I prefer, as it means they aren’t being dumped out en masse and are given room to breathe and the passage of time feels more warranted when it’s spread out over a few months intead of a few weeks. It just meant the weaker episodes stood out more and drained on me more.. but it also meant the stronger ones were all the more a breath of fresh air. And nowhere was this more apparent as teh worst episode of the season, and series, thus far, Quarallers Pass.. was paired with Toadcatcher, an utterly marvelous episode and followup to ironically the series best so far, Reunion.

This episode catches us up with Sasha, Anne’s former best friend who tried to kill her in a sword fight, one where the entirety of wartwood including her adopted grandpa was at sake and Sasha knew this and did not care. She then followed it up by letting go when Anne was depseratley holding on, with the help of her new family, to save Sashsa’s life.. and Sasha let go. I discussed the full implications in the review so I will avoid trigggering anyone, and I mean tha tin the medical sense anyone using it ironiclaly or to mock people using it as it’s intended can get fucked, but she clearly didn’t intend to make it, but Grime saved her and spirted her off. So we catch up with both licking their wounds from the ordeal: Sasha has decided to take the Jasper route of horrible coping mechanisms and is training constnatly, readily kiling dolls of the plantars but still unable to truly hurt Anne, burying her feelings over her guilt and her best friend rightfully turning on her and then trying to save her anyway despite Sasha trying to gut her. Grime.. is binging on the wonderfully terrible teen soap Supscion Island, coming back this january on the cw, that was intorduced last season and generally not carring the king has his best men, women and nonbinary folks out for his head.

So both issues come to a head as General Yuaan, scourge of the Sand Wars, defeater of Ragnar the Wretched, and the youngest newt to ever achieve the rank of general in the great Newtopian Army, and she’ll never miss a chance to say that, has come for Grime whose in no condition and has no will to fight back. He also finally confronts Sasha when she snaps at him for it, pointing out she’s simply burying the fact that she lost Anne, things won’t be the same, and she won’t deal with it. The episode adds real depth to grime, going from an intresting but semeingly just evil overlord.. to someone who worked his way out of a fighting pit to be given a thankfless if cushy job by the same people who threw him in in the first place, someone who to my shock at the time.. CARES about his protege. While allowing Sasha in was simply to their mutual advantage at first.. he’s grown to genuinely care about her as his friend and offers to let Yuaan have him so she can be free. but Sasha refuses. Despite her issues.. she CARES about the old toad and together, and using Yaan’s ham against her, they beat her, and decide to rebuild their army... after Grime finishes his soaps of course. Can.. relate. A thorughly good, throughly emotinally episode that dosen’t lack the series humor but does have a depth and rhthym to it that the series has at i’ts best.

14. Quack Pack! (Ducktales) Jesus I was so tired when making this I nearly forgot an entry. And shame on me as this was one of the best episodes of an already amazing Season. Season 3 is easily ducktales best and i’ve been proud to cover it. It’s been my most popular feature and while not every episodes been GREAT, only one’s really not been very good, and none have been out and out bad. While it may be the end of the shows run and not without problems, they still have trouble ballancing the adults at times if not nearly as bad as before, to the point Launchpad just sorta vanishes after Let’s Get Dangerous outside of the Christmas Specail that takes place before the season anyway, and Louie is often written VERY badly.. but i’ve talked about these things all season in my reviews.

Point is those faults are overwhelmed by the strengths; The character ballance is better, several side characters have gotten tons of payoff to their arcs and more development, and the main plot is easily the best in the series history: By having essentially one main plot with two focuses, before they merge at the halfway marker, it allows the season to be far more streamlined after the really messy way season 2′s plots were handled. It just shows the show at it’s best and has produced amazing episode after amazing episode and it was really hard to widdle it down to the ones that got selected here and even then one got left out.

But one boost I haven’t mentioned is their wilingness to take risk. While past seasons had flashback episodes and what not this one, in hindsight, has some of the more risky episodes of the series, ones you really COULDN’T do in seasons 1 and 2: a whole episode flashback to the twins, basically taking our present day kids out for the whole season, an hour long special focusing on what, to fans not familiar with darkwing duck, is simply a very engaging side character and his new sidekick.. and launchpad (The ducks aren’t OUT of the special, but they aren’t the focus and aren’t around for most of the climax). An episode with really dark emotional moments.. which isn’t unsuaul for a disney show, see next time, but for one so close to their chest it was a lot. They were settled in enough to take plenty of risks and it’s paid off. It’s not to community levels of experimentation, but it’s still nice, intresting breaks from the usual adventures.

And one of the best and boldest of these was Quack Pack. Taking our heroes and plopping them into a TGIF sitcom. Of which this plot not only happened TWICE this year, three times if you count the entirety of beef house, which I do so let’s call it three, but both cartoon examples are on this list. But both tackle it in diffrent and intresting ways so both got on here. IN this case.. during a stock plot about a family photo, complete with Donald having his Don Cheadle voice back, we get some great parodies of convetions of les.s. good sitcomes nad even some of the greats: there’s the constnat catcphrases (ranging from a sticomy version of Della’s “On the moon”, to Beakly’s “I’m not a spy.. which sh’es understandably inscnesed to find out is her catchphrase) ,and even the wacky neighbor with our lord and savior Goofy showing up in the roll, as a nice nod to the more sitcom side of the Disney Afternoon. We just get a lot of good gags.. until Huey becomes aware, starting to realize things are off, with his guidebook being empty and things just not adding up. We even get a great bit of him being forced to do a disney channel/that 70′s show dance transtion only to react with exesntial horror. Naturally, given their lives,a genie did it, Gene, played by Jaleel White in a pefect bit of casting. Having been imprisoned in his lamp since the 90′s. Gene’s a bit behind on how sticoms work, but was just granting a wish, Donald’s wish, which the family figures out by trigggiring a flashback, Goofy VERY MUCH included. where we find out it was, unsuprisngly Donald’s fault.. though in his defense, and in the best line of the episode, when confronted about wishing for a normal life “I wish for that 30 times a day. How was I supposed to know a lamp was under me this time?”

And we find out why and it’s heartbreaking: Donald just wants a normal family, where everyone’s safe and, most tellningly “No one gets lost.”. It’s the climax of a series long HATRED of going on these adventures. For everyone else it’s fun, thriling, good stuff.. to him.. it’s not only a reminder of what cost him 10 years with his sister and his adopted sons their mom for that time, but a reminder of a lot of pain and humilation. To him he just wants the normal life he used to have back, despite that not being an option and his kids to be safe and his sister not to leave again. Granted his refusal to undo the wish is selfish.. but i’ts understandable. And while the rest of them try to break the wish, and end up fighting the horrifying audience it’s GOOFY who gets donald to see all families are diffrent and that there is no normal: just what you make and enjoy. It makes donald realize that as hectic as his life is.. it’s his life, his family.. and maybe. it’s not so bad. After years of denying how much he used to love adventuering.. he realizes part of him stilld oes and no amount of turning against it will fix what he lost... he just has to enjoy NOW. It’s good solid character development for my favioriote member of the cast, and overall a fun, genre spoofing episode that pokes fun at the genre but reallyg ets how it works.

13. Growing Pains (Steven Universe Future)

“ What do I do? How do I move on from all the stuff I've been through? How do I live life if it always feels like I'm about to die?! “ So yeah big recap of steven’s emotional well being to get into future earlier, but rewinding a bit, this one takes place with our hero at a low point. Not “oh god I comitted murder what am I now oh god” low as we got to earlier and the series itself wold get to later, these lists make time warped and space bendeble, but still pretty damn bad. As mentioned before Steven tried proposing to connie, not helped by Ruby and Sapphire both being fully on board, as both are hopeless romantics seprate but when combined as a Garnet their shared braincell can get working properly and has settings other than “emotoinal pain, peppy (ruby), a bit distant but kind (Sapphire) and horny”. While it was as beautiful a propsal as you’d expect from Steven.. Connie gently rejected it since you know, he also wanted to be permafused and their not even legal marrying age left. He’s 17.. despite what this episode claims. She’s 15 or 16. They aren’t ready and she knew it not even ruling it out entirely, just saying “not now”. But as this episode bears out.. Steven really isn’t an emotinal state where he could properly process that way and after shooing her away, even though she WANTED to talk it over and genuiely make sure he was okay as she damn well knew this wasn’t easy on him, but also knew it’d probably be bad to press him while he was clearly in pain. So like everyone else she made the mistake of leaving. So Steven’s binging on junk food, and bemoaning the fact that even dogcopter is getting married.. also Dogcopter is gay. Given the show he’s a fictional character in, you THINK i’d of been less suprised but you’d be wrong. Point is steven isn’t dealing well and is going pink and with the gems gone for the weekend, and Greg unavaliable due to being busy as a manager, Steven is getting worse and his body is starting to warp. Thanfkully connie comes to check up on him and insits he see a doctor.. and since her mother’s a doctor and thankfully had a cancelation. Unthankfully it turns out, to Prianka’s understandable frustration.. Steven’s never been to a doctor. Which does make sense, Greg taking him in might’ve alreted authorties to his lack of schooling or his injuries from age 13 onward, plus he had no idea of knowing how his body would react to tests. That being said given by this point in the series Gems are well accepted and known around town and everyone loves and adores steven, Greg had no real excuse by this age especially after the second gem war. And that’s proven by the fact it turns out steven’s body has tons of internal scars which, due to him turning out to have a wolverine style healing factor, mean h’es alive and without brain damage, but still has plenty of internal scars. It’s a godo metaphor for his mental trauma: he came out of his various happenings ALIVE.. but not mentally okay and with PLENTY of ptsd. When Prianka asks him to list his traumas.. he dosen’t even get past season 1 before she’s understandably horrified, though she’s figured out exactly what’s causing his pink mode: as mentioned before his contstant life of danger and having the threat of a fight at any moment over his head for 2 solid years, maybe 3 given the third light game shows he still had a lot of work to do before the movie and future, and honestly still does at times during both, mean his flight or fight response has been shot so the adrenline charged pink form, meant to protect him from danger.. is triggering for EMOTIONAL pain and suffering.

Steven dosen’t take it well and keeps enlarging when pressed.. and accidently spills the beans about the proposal... and understandably, even if she was FULLY in the right can’t be around Connie: while she had every right to reject him, it dosen’t mean it hurts any less. Sometimes even when you do the absolute right thing.. it can still hurt to be on the receiving end of that. But Connie is still Connie, aka the most emotinally stable and mature person in the main cast very much including the sentient space rocks who are centuries older than her, so she called Greg who naturally dropped everything because his son needed him. It shows the genuine conflict, one, again that I’ve grappled with: Steven is so obssed with not boterhing those he loves, he fails to see they’ll help him when he needs it without a second thought. So Greg thankfully calms him down and taks over the failed proposal with no judgement or anything just support. Sadly things go downhill from here but it’s a good episode that turns the entire series on it’s head with some damn good character work.

12. Annhilation of Joy (The Midnight Gospel)

“Again? How Many times is this guy gonna die?” “Until he learns” The Midnight Gospel was a plesant suprise. Penndelton Ward’s return to animation after leaving Adventure Time, the show is a collberation between him and podcaster Duncan Trussel. It was a suprise both in how quickly it came together, and in how it’s real nature wasn’t properly expressed in the trailers: while the series does tell us the trippy adventures of Clancy, a 40 something “Spacecaster” who uses an illegal simulator to visit worlds to interview various people.. said interviews are expercts from Trusseul’s own podcast, the Duncan Trussel Family Hour, something this series has badly made me want to listen to. As such while dealing with zombie apocalypses, a quest to avenge a dead lover, being processed as meat and meeting death herself while looking for his hose, Clancy interviews his subjects, including Death herself, and talks on various subjects related to medation and spirutality, throughly fascenating interviews greatly woven into trippy visuals. Hopefully the show will be back for round 2 at some point as both Ward and Trussel are game, but for now the first season stands on it’s own as a throughly trippy, throughly wonderful blend of Trussel’s words and insight and Ward’s boundless imagination. And the best of these, narrowly beating out the final epsiode which uses an interview with Truseel’s late mother to inform clancy’s own actions, as Clancy’s Mom is dying from cancer same as Trussels tragically did. But I like this one slightly better due to it’s great blend of the subject with the plot. Once again Clancy is ignoring his pain, and his sister’s calls, by diving into the space vagina of his simulator, taking a weird form, and easily my faviorite of his shapeshifted forms of the season: a living rainbow that wouldn’t be out of palce in a pbs kids show, complete with the fact he makes musuical chimes when touched not unlike a children’s toy and has chosen this form to enter the simulator’s jail. It’s there he gets engagled, literally, with Bob and Jason. Bob is an angry, upset prisoner who chewed his own tounge out years ago, and Jason is his soul bird, a represntation of his pain bound to him by blue rope that Clancy got tangled in. So Clancy is taken along for the ride with them as every time Bob dies, the celestial beings in charge of the prison put him through weird emtional torment, pluck out his heard and weigh it against a feather plucked from jason.

Thus while Clancy and Jason have a spirited conversation about Buddishm and about not treaing spirutality like a game with levels and having to earn progress but as an emotinal journey, Bob goes through a buddishm inspried journey of his own, mixed with a bit of edge of tommorow. He dies, gets tourtured then resets.. but slowly learns to empathize, to let go of his anger and violence and help those around him. It’s an utterly mesmering journey to watch this angry green big headed man go from a violet convict who will gladly shoot and stab.. to a pacfisit eager to help those around him. And it’s thorughly convincing and backed wonderfully by the interview and easily a sign of what this weird and unconveintonal series can do at all cyllnders. Seriously Netflix you’ve been on a loosing streak decisionmaking wise. Make. More. Of. This.

11. Save the Cat (She-Ra and the Princesses of Power) "C'mon Catra. You're not done. Not yet..."

God that image is unsettling. Anywho back to She-Ra, and somehow this is the second time i’ve had to rewind the progress of a season by about an episoide. Weird. Point is saved the cat is one of the most tightly packed and thrilling episodes of the series.. and the crux of Catra’s character arc. Before this Catra had hit her lowest point, having lost ..j well everything. She pushed everyone from adora, to the nonambigiously a couple trio, to her own best friends away through her shitty behavior and inferoirty complex and somenoe she THOUGHT was her friend.. turned on her for money. Oh and as an added stomp on the tail all that betryal, all the blood spilled in her name.. was for nothing. Horde Prime made her irrelvant: she couldnt’ manipualte him because a combination of a god complex and an army of loyal drones meant he had nothing to hide and eyes everywhere. She had nothing. Eveyrthing she did every sacrifice she made every worse and worse turn she made a s a person... amounted to NOTHING. So it was at this point she and glimmer, despite you know killing Glimmer’s mother, were forced to work together.. and Catra sacrificed herself both to get Glimmer safe and because for once.. she wanted to do something right. Her self loathing, some of it warranted, a lot of it already there from an abusive childhood, left her with one option: sacrifice herself and HOPE, something good can come of it, Apologize to Adora, hte one person she ever loved and hope she can at least surivive this. Naturally, Adora having seen her friend/love of her life has not only REALIZED what she become, but sacrifice herself.. isn’t having this, and after an episode of repairs both on the ship and emotinally, our heroes are naturally, despite any personal hangups with her ready to save Catra. Naturally this hits snags. On Bow and Entrapta’s end, they accidently free a horde clone she mistakes for hordak and, having no other real option and with the guy being useful, Wrong Hordak is born! I love me some Wrong Hordak. What a guy, makes you cry, und I did.

The main issue though is Adora let herslef be captured.. only to find Horde Prime is a sadstic bastard and has not only chipped Catra, but is using her newfound peace of mind to play with adora’s head, using Catra’s heartbreak from the past to manipulate Adora in the present.. and force them to fight because hey he’s a sadistic jackass with a god complex. They make their own fun. But Adora gets through to her .. only for Prime to decide fuck it and try killing her with Adora BARELY saving her with her power, and Catra, as she fades, wondering why Adora even bothered. And the why is simple.. as a wise fictional version of a wise president once said “Dying is easy young man, living is harder”. Not the last time that quote will be relevant in this top 20 list, but the point, and it was delebrate on Noelle Stevenon’s part, was to subvert this kind of thing> The bad guy gets redemption but then dies seconds later. Instead.. Catra has to LIVE with what she did and make up for it, become a better person and work for redepmtion, instead of just getting to end in some big blaze of glory. But at the same time.. it’s the better route. The harder one sure.. but she gets to have a life and to undo the damage and maybe for once.. actually live instead of just trying to surivive. IT was the right call in a series full of them.

But yeah the day is saved, our heroes have two new roomates and Catra weakly greats Adora.. but with genuine warmth for the first time in .. years I guess? I don’t know this series time span. Point is the healing and the ship tease for our finale can begin and this episode is a tense, well put together masterwork. The pacing really is what put it up this far, as it really ratchets up the tension, and being the last season, meant there was no guarantee anyone, including catra, was going to make it. Excellent stuff all around.

So that’s where we leave off for now. i’ll be PUTTING PART 2 HERE WITH A LINK. once i’ts finished For now watch this space and..

#best of 2020 #2020 #best of list #Steven Universe #Steven Universe Future #She Ra and the Princesses of Power #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #save rottmnt #ducktales #amphibia #the midnight gospel

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spc4eva · 4 years ago

Text

Star-Burned: Chapter Three

Sundays are going to be posting days just like Mandokar. I've decided to also add the two pieces will be in the same collection in the same universe; so Paz has a sister who is with Din.

My headcanon is that many Death Troopers are Mandalorians who joined the Empire after the Great Purge. Just an fyi.

Word Count: 10,421

Rating: M (+18) oral sex f!receiving, unprotected sex

Masterlist

Cross Posted on AO3

So Jawas were alright.

They were kind of finicky because most of the time they were thieving little bastards and you really had to keep your eye on them. Sure, they could do nice things, they'd proven that before when they had brought back your parents' bodies without asking for payment. But... the moment they actually got to take a look at Paz's ship you knew you were in for it. They fucking wanted it. The entire thing. All of it. Your signs must've done a good job, because they hadn't come into the sheltered alcove where it was hidden like a lost treasure. The road led up to your farm, but the smoke churning up from the ship typically would've drawn them in like moths to a flame. Now the robed midgets were milling around, chirping in their language, and billeting Paz with questions that he couldn't understand.

"What do they want?" Paz looked to you for guidance.

"Your whole ship," you laugh before glancing down at the lead Jawa, Tho Qeohe. You reasoned with him, discerning, in the past, the Jawas only by the different belts of items that they adorned their robes in. This ship belonged to someone, you were looking for assistance in standing it up and the appropriate parts to make the last repairs, which would probably include scrap metal, any engine parts, and landing gear.

Make it worth it. What was there to offer that would be worth parting with that many materials and the addition of assistance? Jawas did not work for free and nor did they do favors, despite how long they'd known you.

"They said you have to make it worth their while. They'd be willing to give the parts, but a good trade will be expected. Do you have anything... rare on your ship?" You ask Paz finally after quietly debating with Tho. Immediately, the Jawa pointed at his armor, which he had donned today. You shook your head, explaining that he was Mandalorian and the beskar was off the table entirely. There was an aggravated huff of dismay, Tho convinced that there would be little worthwhile that could otherwise be exchanged for all those parts. Unless...

Oh-ho-ho the little buggers were trying to be cheeky now, tugging on your pant leg and gibbering excitedly. No, you needed your tip-yips, they were your solid source of protein.

"I have a camtono of Exonium that was looking to sell once I got to the right spaceport," Paz offered, which... which was actually a good offer. You blink a few times and explain to the Jawas that the Mandalorian is willing to trade in his camtono of the fossil fuel.

Not enough. Maybe two camtonos, but not just one. Groaning, you rub your face and consider again. You could part with a few tip-yips and perhaps request that Paz took you to the city so you could acquire a new bacta shot and tip-yips. Fine. The freaking birds could go, but Paz would have to take you back to the city because you needed the eggs.

"I've come to an arrangement," you admit grudgingly. Why did these little assholes like eggs so much? They were chanting the awful word over and over again. "They'll take the camtono of Exonium and..." You grumble about your tip-yips, hoping that he wouldn't hear you.

"They want your chickens too?"

"Yeah, they're being brats. Jawas really like eggs," you explained, huffing a breath and crossing your arms over your chest. "I'd hate to be a bother, but I'm going to need a ride to the city in order to get more. I can't live out here without a solid, renewable source of protein."

"A bother?" Paz rumbled, a chuckle crackling in the edge of his vocoder. "Tracyn... I owe you considerably more than being a taxi to the city. I'll buy the tip-yips for you. And the bacta shot you had to use."

Well... that was a fair deal... right? You wanted to ask him to throw his shiny bucket into the mix and just stay here, but that would've been crossing a line. Smiling dolefully, you turned back to Tho -- the sweet smile being replaced by a grimace and begrudging glare, which on you was not at all intimidating. Actually, it was sort of comical and Tho laughed at your attempt to posture in front of the Mandalorian.

Jawas were restless buggers and got their work underway immediately. You had to supervise, mostly because you could hear them being evel kenivals and had to thump a few of their heads to keep them from worming their grubby hands into places they shouldn't. It was going to be a long few days. Thankfully, the one saving grace you'd gotten out of all of this was that Jawas knew tech. Be that droids, starships, cruisers, speeders -- you could name anything and they'd know it. You had rapport with them, despite the fact you had to chastise them at least four times every hour. By nature, they were sneaksie monsters. So you used that to your advantage, because they didn't want to spend more time than was necessary to keep up their end of the bargain.

They had the proper lifts and equipment to hoist the ship up, which you learned was called the Kote. Pieces of metal slopped off, just as you'd predicted and it made you wince. The Kote was old, but before this dogfight, actually seemed as if it had been in good condition; well maintained and kept up to date. The Jawas fussed, complained, kicked and cried like petulant children about being put to work instead of thieving. But they helped. Again, they didn't want to be there forever and so they helped solder parts on, repair the hull, and even Tho had gone as far to berate you for improperly wiring connections to the engine. Jawas were intelligent, no matter how much people looked down on them, they knew what they were doing.

By the end of the third day you were a fucking mess. Your muscles were trembling, fending off exhaustion and hyped up on gallons of caf. But you couldn't go to sleep. Not when the Jawas were here. Not when they could pilfer things when you weren't keeping hawk eyes on them.

Paz had tried to get you to rest, but you couldn't. He didn't speak their language or know what little shits they could be. You sort of loved how annoying they could be, in their own unique way, but you also knew that you were the glue bonding this entire arrangement together.

"You need to rest, Tracyn," he insisted as you dropped the wrench for the fourth time in under 10 minutes.

"Al-almost done," you insisted, managing to pin a puffy glare over at a Jawa who was eying your wrench. They knew you were testy now, each hour that passed knocking off another bit of your ever vanishing patience. Actually, you were probably in the sphere of negative patience.

"The Jawas are packing up. Tracyn... Tracyn please, you're going to kill yourself from exhaustion and the heat-" Paz grabbed your shoulders, steering you away from the landing gear that you had continued to work on. You managed to stick your tongue out at the nearest Jawa before being brought into the Kote. Your eyes blinked a few times, cutting the difference from the brightness of day and the dim of the hull. Maker, had it really been three days? Your brain was fried and you were working on fumes. "Hey... hey can you hear me?"

Had he been talking? You blink again, finally focusing on the snapping fingers beside your ear. "Hmm?"

"You need to go to sleep," Paz decided firmly.

"B-but," you were too emotional for this right now. Immediately your eyes began to fill up with tears. You were letting him down. What if the Jawas started stealing stuff? You were almost done. Just a couple more hours and it would've been good to go. "I can do it. I still have enough energy. Maybe another cup of caf will do the trick."

"You've drank enough to fuel a starship," Paz reminded you duly, brushing away the frustrated tears from your eyes. "C'mere, shh now. You're just over tired-" he grabbed you, pulling you into an embrace on his chest. The cool beskar felt good against your clammy skin, neck lolling naturally into the crook beneath his helmet. "Maker I would have never guessed you had so much energy in you. And all you want are tip-yips and a bacta shot for this?"

"I'm a simple girl," you sniffle in defeat. "And I like eggs just as much as Jawas."

His chest rumbled and you felt the laugh before you heard it, but the sound relaxed your warbling, his hands sliding underneath you before cradling you like a child. Had you been in a more sensible state of mind, you might've protested in worry that he could be hurting his ribs. While he felt strong enough to don his armor again, that didn't mean that the lingering injury wasn't hidden beneath. He was taking you deeper into the ship, opening the door to a room that was dimly lit. Your lashes were fluttering, sleep trying to smother you completely, but you rebelled against it - trying to figure out what was going on.

He was setting you down on a bed, ooh Maker the bed felt so nice. There were furs and blankets, so this wasn't your bed. Didn't have fur on your bed. Smelled like him -- blaster residue, leather, oil, and some kind of soap... you couldn't place it because you didn't use soap in a sonic shower like a water one. But it was nice. "Hmmm," a soft moan emanated from your throat and you'd all but forgotten you hadn't cleaned off in three days either since beginning your crusade to finish fixing the Kote. You were out within seconds of your head touching the pillow.

Paz pulled off your boots for you. You'd passed out completely after being set down, all flustered and moody. He'd tried to stop you earlier, only receiving a few combative looks, which included you puffing out your cheeks like a frog and raising your shoulders in a mock attempt to seem bigger than you were. You weren’t mean or off putting; you were determined and willful. He had also been helping where he could with welding, since he wasn't completely useless when it came to repairs. But you didn't stop. Even he had taken a few breaks, trying to coax you into shutting your eyes for a few minutes, but you'd scarfed down your rations, inhaled a cup of caf, and went back to work. Honestly, it was quite admirable and cute.

You'd given up your tip-yips to get him these parts, part of your survival to make certain he could get off this orange rock. Now that the ship was nearly complete, he was beginning to realize he didn't really want to. He liked waking up to someone making him breakfast, someone to have easy conversation with, to just... relax around. Being Mandalorian meant he didn't often have these down times. He constantly had to have his head on a swivel, watching his back, finger ready on the trigger. But these weeks, despite the pain from his injury, had been calming. You were calming.

The more he saw you in your element, the more he realized how strong you were. Not in a physical aspect, but mentally. It took a certain kind of person to be able to live out on their own without falling into an abysmal depression. You took each day as it was, put a foot forward while smiling, and had one of the most chipper, cheery dispositions he'd ever had the honor of crossing paths with. To top that off, you were an excellent mechanic, engineer, and he liked your food. Your silliness was a coping mechanism and part of your undeniable charm. And Paz was falling hard for you, maybe just as hard as his ship had crashed to this planet and the canyons nearest to your farm.

Even now, he couldn't keep his gaze off of you, all oil smeared, hair a mess of curls, tangled and dirty from laying in the sand and fixating on the task at hand. He had to give it to you, you were capable of inhuman feats of fixation. He wished half the Foundlings he taught were capable of even an ounce of your tempered focus. You were the type that if you set your mind to something, you'd read all the books you could get your hands on before trying to learn how to do it yourself.

And now with the Kote in good condition, Paz knew that your time together was coming to a close. He had to get back to the Tribe, to the planet the covert had relocated on, and that meant leaving you behind. He really wanted to ask you to come with him, perhaps as a crewmate to help around the ship, but because he wanted the chance to explore these growing feelings... but your farm. You loved the blasted thing so much and he couldn't take that from you. He doubted you'd want to go. For now, he'd enjoy what time he had left with you; his little ray of sunshine.

---

You woke up, still groggy and bone weary from your three day stint of making repairs. Maker, why hadn't you listened and just set your head down, because you felt like shit right now. Glancing around, you noticed that you were in some sort of chamber, which appeared to be on a ship from metal walls and floor. Oh. This must've been Paz's room on the Kote. It was coming back to you. The Kote was a decent enough sized gunship that it had a captain's cabin and crew quarters. You remembered because you had been inside fixing things.

The corners of your mouth quirked and you grabbed the canteen of water sitting by the side of the bed, taking a few generous gulps before getting up. Oh... oh you were gross. Three days of sweltering heat, dirt, grime, and oil. Fuck, why had he put you in his bed? You were literally as smelly as a womp rat. Arms held out slightly, you waddle around, trying to locate the Mandalorian. Outside the cabin, you found him over by an open arsenal, jaw dropping at the ensemble of weapons that were hung neatly. Shit, you knew that Mandalorians considered weapons their religion, but you didn't think one person needed quite that many.

Paz turned and caught you staring, your arms still held out as it felt too grimy to put them back down. "How're you feeling, mesh'la?"

"Better," you admit honestly. "Dirty."

"Go wash up in the fresher," he offered, pointing in its direction.

"Uhm," you considered it for a beat before glancing back at him. "How do I use it?" That felt like a stupid question, but honestly you didn't know how. Sonic showers you just pressed a button to turn on. Water had things like... pressure valves, gauges, and oh dear lord you were overthinking something so simple but that's what you did. Everything was methodical up in that brain of yours and managing water flow and heat seemed overly complex.

Paz got up and escorted you to the fresher, which was big enough to accomodate a good sized person, such as himself. A toilet, a sink, and a large shower. There was just one knob. "You turn it like this and then twist it this way if you want it warmer," he demonstrated by turning it on, water hissing like a snake and making you jump back into him. He didn't laugh at you, which made your thankful, cheeks burning as you watched it pitter down like rain into the drain. "I have some spare clothes you can borrow."

That you could borrow? One of his shirts was going to be a tent on you! But... your coveralls were filthy. "Thanks." He left you to it, closing the door behind him as you faced your newest challenge: taking a shower in water. Now, you'd been rained on before, but you'd never taken a shower in it. Clearing your throat, you began stripping, peeling off the offensive and smelly articles, before standing awkwardly in front of the shower. Finally, you tested it with a hand, snapping it back as if you'd been burnt. Oh, ok... so just wash in it... Seemed wasteful, but then again other planets weren't as water starved. Other planets were green and had oceans. Some had ice.

You'd like to see them if it didn't mean leaving your farm. But how would that be possible?

Rather than linger any longer as the water continued to billet into the glass door, you hopped in and slid the door shut. Ooooh, this was really nice. The water was just a little warmer than your skin, the way that the dirt and grim started to slide right off. Your curls soaked through, a thick heavy mop against your back. Soap. You glanced around, noticing a part of soap and a bottle of shampoo. Usually you just used deodorant, since in sonic showers you didn't wash with anything. This soap was what you had smelled in bed, full bodied and clean. Humming to yourself, you absolutely went to town. Strangely, you were feeling a lot cleaner than a sonic shower had ever made you feel. Layers of dead skin scrubbed off, flushed from how hard you'd worked it, to the point where you were pink and raw but oh-so-clean.

When you turned the water off -- incorrectly at first, dousing yourself with ice cold water -- you popped your head out to see that a towel and clothes had been left in place of your dirty ones. How was he so thoughtful? Why was he so thoughtful? It made you smile regardless, taking up the towel and drying yourself off, a pleasant warmth radiating in your chest from the Mandalorian’s thoughtfulness. Your curls were soaked through and required being tied up in the towel to scrunch off some of the dampness. Paz had left you one of his undershirts and... nothing else. At first you were a little worried that you'd not be covered up enough, but that quickly changed after sliding it on with a pair of socks. You were pretty much covered, like a child trying on their parent's clothing. The shirt fell over your knees, the socks -- also his -- came up to your knees. The long sleeves were waaay too long for you, so you had to push those up before stumbling out of the fresher. No underwear. Those were being cleaned too.

So the moment you stepped out, a rush of fresh air went right underneath the hem of the shirt and attacked between your thighs. You swallowed hard and then managed to look over at Paz, as he'd returned to checking on his weapons. "How was it?"

"I've been in water before, but not like that. Just torrential downpours," you admit, coming to sit across from him, pulling the shirt down over your knees carefully so you don't accidentally flash him. "But it was really nice. You get to do that everyday?"

"Yes, as long as there's enough water in the tanks," he replied, which made you stiffen. How much water had you used? You'd been in there for a while. "Water isn't that expensive on other planets."

"Oh," you relaxed. "Weird." Turning your head down you look at what you believe it was a rifle, carefully taken apart. "Why did you do this? Was it broken?"

"Hm?" he glanced back down. "I was cleaning it."

"Oh, I didn't know they had to be cleaned." You wish you hadn't said that, because Paz was looking at you -- with what you could only assume was a shocked or incredulous expression beneath his helmet.

"You've... never cleaned that blaster that you have?"

"Uhhhhh," you tried to dredge up any memory of cleaning it, but came up blank. "No."

"Have you ever fired it? I can't imagine there's much here you'd need it for."

"I've fired it," you huffed, crossing your arms over your chest. You weren't a good shot. Not really. Especially since you didn't have a reason to practice. You just figured having it might save you from a chance encounter with any sort of wildlife that didn't get along with you. Which had yet to happen due to your natural affinity with them.

"How often?"

Again, no immediate answer. "Dunno, maybe like... once a year to check it." That was pushing it. You hadn't fired it in the last year, but you were trying to make yourself not sound half that bad.

He got up, finding your utility belt and removing the dingy little blaster. It looked so pitiful when compared to his clean, neatly arranged rifle. He sat back down and patted the space beside him. "C'mere, let's take a look." You scooted over to his side of the table obediently, anxious as to the wisdom a Mandalorian could impart. "Maker, this hasn't been oiled in ages-" he was trying to take it apart, the rusted bolts grinding with sand caught between them. Your face was starting to burn -- swelter actually -- because you knew that wasn't right, didn't take a genius to know that. It sounded awful.

He forced the slide off and there was a snap, the tiny little screw crumbling completely in a puff of metal and rust. "Well..." he started. "I'm surprised it still fired."

"Maybe..." you whispered self consciously. "I haven't tried recently."

"That's good... in it's own way," he assured you, despite the fact your blaster was most definitely broken because of your own negligence. "Here, let's take a look at mine instead. You're not going to be able to salvage that."

He removed his own blaster, twice the size of yours, and clean as a whistle. "Now, pistols come in different shapes and sizes, utilize different types of plasma -- some even use slugs. This is a standard cartridge pistol, but it's been made for my own hand. Slide comes off one the top like this-" Paz dove into the details, removing each piece, demonstrating in front of you the proper and safe manner in which it came apart. Your attention was rapt, soaking it in like a sponge, the details, where you needed to clean and oil and how often you should do it. Apparently, if you were practicing, you should clean it later in the evening -- which you'd never done. Letting the residue sit on the metal wasn't good, it corrode in the inner workings and the weapon wouldn't last as long as it could.

"Show me how to put it back together now," he requested, leaving it on the table disassembled.

You liked puzzles and that's what this was. One, intricate puzzle. He'd done it piece by piece, so this wasn't really much of a challenge. Rocking forward on your knees, you started with the grip, unlocked the trigger mechanism and began returning the parts to their home. You pinched your finger once, but it didn't so much more than make you suck a little air before continuing. Finally, you had a weapon in your hand, just as when Paz had removed it from his holster.

"Aren't you forgetting something?"

All the pieces were gone until he opened his glove and revealed the firing pin, the most important part and you'd built the pistol around nothing. Without the firing pin, it was all just for show. "Were you hiding that?"

"Wanted to see if you'd notice," he mused, sounding as if he were smiling beneath that bucket.

"That's not very nice, now I have to take it apart again," you sighed deeply, reaching for the firing pin, but he snaked his arm away and from your grasp. "Hey!" You followed after him, realizing that he was teasing you, keeping the last piece just out of your grasp as you flailed, trying to steal it from him, failing spectacularly as he deftly evaded your clumsy jabs.

"The firing pin is the most important part. I'm surprised you managed to put it together and not realize," Paz continued to elude you, which was impressive considering how big he was and that you were now standing up, still trying to wrestle it from him.

"I'm a farmer, not a Mandalorian," you remind him, grunting as he palms your stomach and pushes you just out of reach, your short arms struggling in vain.

"You're a lot more than just a farmer. Engineer and mechanic also come to mind," he let the firing pin come just within grasp and you went for it, taking the bait greedily just like Jumbles ate the eggs right off your lap. Paz removed his hand from your stomach and you fell.

Sailing right through the air, you tried to catch yourself as the breath whooshed out of you, heart thundering at the loss of stability, a garbled yelp escaping the back of your throat. Then there were hands, just as quickly as there hadn't been, cushioning your fall before you made impact with Paz's lap. You weren't a fan of that trick, trying to calm down as he picked you up and righted you. "Y-y-you couldn't j-just gi-ive it t-t-to me?"

"No, that was a little too fun," he admitted to your chagrin. The beskar was cold, leaching through the thick shirt you were wearing, which had climbed up a few inches since you'd been dumped in his lap, nearly baring your ass. You shivered, the firing pin finally in your grasp, glancing down at the pistol as your heart rate began to pick up in an accelerando. "Fix it."

Like this? On his lap? Oh dear, your mind was already beginning to churn a little slower than usual. Shifting, you fumbled for the pistol, fingers clammy and not as deft and confident as usual. Your loose curls puffed around you, mostly dry from your shower and smelling absolutely divine. But it was sort of in your way. You blew a curl out of your face, jolting when you felt a gloved finger trace along the crown of your ear and tuck a few strands out of the way. Your heart picked up again. Now you were glaring at the pistol as if it'd called your mother a fat bantha. Don't be distracted. You can do this. You can-- a hand wrapped around your midsection, dragging you further onto his lap, flush against his cuirass. Ok, you weren't thinking of anything more than each minute thing that the Mandalorian did.

From the steady rise and fall of his chest, the palm on your leg massaging into your flesh, the other one tight against your abdomen. Focus! He was doing this on purpose. This was all a part of his game -- and. you. weren't. gonna. lose. Were you a sore loser? Honestly, you hadn't played many games except with the Jawas and you liked to rub it in their rude little faces when you won. So yeah, you probably were a sore loser.

"Mesh'la," he drawled in your ear, causing you to tilt your neck back, throat bobbing as you finally had the pistol taken apart enough that you could return the firing pin to its home. "Can you be a good girl for me?"

You were convinced he was still trying to distract you. "W-why?"

"Because you look so pretty putting that pistol back together. Can you be good for me?" he murmured and that's when you realized it, this was a turn on for him. Seeing you, someone absolutely clueless about weapons, learn from him and then put it together piece by piece... You froze where you were, wondering how to perceive this new bit of information. You were already growing flustered, a combination of arousal and competitiveness making your cheeks hot and attention wane. There was something incredibly sexy about trying to impress a Mandalorian with your newly found skills in taking a pistol apart, even if you weren't a good shot. You just hadn't thought that he'd enjoy it so much.

"What do you want me to do?" you questioned softly, your rapid pace grinding down slowly, nearly to a halt. Replaced now with the gunning of your heart rate and the ever increasing blush jetting across your features.

"Finish and then close your eyes," he instructed.

Nodding, you completed the last pieces of the puzzle and reached to place the pistol down, finding that your arms were too short to reach the table. His hand moved from your leg, taking it and sliding it back into his holster. The next breath you took stuttered, your nerves getting the better of you as you closed your eyes. Paz shifted and then pressed a button on his vambrace, plunging the cabin into total darkness. You couldn't see, because you hadn't opened your eyes, but you could tell by the way your lids were now completely dark.

A soft click, followed by hydraulic hissing made you tilt, steadied by the man before you before your heart rocketed into your throat. The thick blanket of your hair was pushed to the side, scratchy facial hair meeting the tender side of your neck, and Maker -- oh, it was his mouth. The realization made you groan, a strangled, pitiful noise as you comprehended why he'd asked you to close your eyes. Just another safety precaution on top of the cover of night in the Kote. He sucked at your skin, biting marks down the side which burned as they were exposed to the air.

You were making the most delicious mewling noises as he kissed your skin, confirming that his decision was certainly worth it. He owed you more than this he thought, but he was also on borrowed time. In his shirt, trying to learn about weapons after he'd broken your rusted out blaster, and then managing to fixate on putting it back together despite his roaming hands... You'd done a good job too and his trick had been rather underhanded. You had put the pistol together with what you were given and he couldn't fault you for that. But perhaps he had been hoping you'd notice right away. He was still impressed that you'd been able to do it at all. There were a lot of pieces to a gun and you'd been undaunted. Then again, you were good with machines, so he hadn't expected anything less from someone who had taught themselves how to repair a starship from books.

You were precious and didn't deserve to be alone. He didn't want to leave you alone. He wanted more time to sit at a table with you, to teach you how to defend yourself, to show you all the places you were missing that were just as beautiful and wild as your home planet -- but in unique ways of their own. He wanted to bottle your sunshine and take it with him. He was afraid to let you go, afraid you'd meet your parents' fate, and that his world would be a little darker if he came back to this planet to say hello and found out you were gone. That's why this felt right, because he wanted you and didn't want to frighten you by saying it -- forcing your hand in coming with him when you loved it here.

And what did he have to offer other than himself? A constantly moving home? A covert that had to hide in the shadows? Being gone for long periods of time when he had to go on hunts to provide for the Tribe?

His mouth met the hollow of your throat, you'd been slowly turning in his grasp to his will. Cradling you in one arm, bent down to lavish attention on your neck, his other palm meeting your chest again. Ankles twisted out into the darkness in front of you, your own hands clinging to his leg as you held yourself firm, pushing your chest out a little, into his grasp as he finally crested over your jaw and met your own mouth. You were overwhelmed in an instant, an explosion of heat and sensation that rocked your whole body as you got lost in his embrace. You already knew his lips were soft, but flush to yours, they were heaven and you never wanted them to leave.

He was gentle, so astonishingly gentle for such a large, imposing man. Kindly plying at your mouth before you were the one who lost your patience. Your lips parted and you licked his eagerly, seeking entrance, wanting to feel all of him. He acquiesced, filling your mouth with his heat, tongue interlocking and a gasp causing you to sputter as he squeezed your nipple. When... when did his hand get under the shirt? You hadn't noticed, distracted entirely by the electricity you felt while kissing him.

He broke away and you whimpered, thumbs swirling circles around the stiffening peak of your nipple, flesh pebbled. "Good girl... can I take it off?"

"It's your shirt, you can take it back whenever you want," you breathed, deserving a light chuckle as he pulled it up and over your head. Careful to keep your eyes shut, your bare ass met the beskar and you hissed.

"Let's move to the bedroom," he suggested.

You nod, about to get on your own two feet when he gets up with you in his arms. You hoped his ribs weren't hurting, but you felt a bit guilty in admitting that you sort of didn't care, because you were wondering about what was going to happen. He placed you carefully on the bed and from the sound of it, he was reaching into a drawer.

"Mesh'la? I'm going to put this over your eyes. Just in case?" he offered it to you so that you knew what it was, the soft gossamer material sliding against your pads. A blindfold?

"Ok." You wanted his mouth back, squirming as you waited and he secured the blindfold around your head. While it was unfortunate that you couldn't see his body, you were still highly aroused by the amount of trust he had in you to ask for just closed eyes and now a blindfold. Huffing anxiously, you gripped one of your breasts, thumbing your nipple while waiting, wondering what he was doing.

Finally, after a couple of minutes, he returned, the bed depressing as he climbed onto it. Robbed of your sight, you leaned heavily on your sense of hearing and touch. And your hearing was shot, really only aware of the pounding of your pulse as you yearned to be touched again. A hand planted beside you, warmth radiating off of him as if he were a heater, before he kissed your collar, jolting you like a little shock of electricity, a sigh of relief following and easing your shoulders. Why... why was he doing this? Not that you were complaining, Maker no, you definitely weren't complaining -- it's just... No one had ever spent this much time on you.

He was sucking welts into your skin, each one sending lancing ripples of pleasure across your exposed flesh, as he made way down to your breasts which, admittedly, made you a bit nervous again. "Mesh'la?" he noticed that you were holding your breath. "What's wrong?"

"I-they're sensitive. And... in the past-" Oh you were going to ruin the mood, but what if he accidentally hurt you too? That would definitely ruin the mood. He’d been careful before, but this wasn’t last night and you were fully exposed for him to do as he pleased.

"I'm going to be gentle, I know..." he assured you, pressing featherlight kisses around your breasts before taking a nipple in his mouth. He teased the skin lightly, nibbling, sucking. All doubts you had evaporated like water after the wet season and you exhaled deeply again, chased with a moan of agreement. "I'd never hurt you, mesh'la. Never." And you believed him, with all your heart you believed this terrifying, intimidating warrior of legend would never hurt a hair on your head.

Massaging the breast he wasn't kissing, you arched into his palm, core melted completely, taken aback by how much this was doing for you. Your thighs pressed together, trembling with anticipation, your bundle of nerves vying for attention. He moved lower, dragging his tongue along your ribs, creating more marks on your soft tummy, before his beard scratched along your hips and you bucked. A strong hand guided your legs apart and you didn't resist, needing attention down there as you panted as if you’d run two miles and the rest of your body vibrated in expectancy.

You were expecting his hand, so when the warmth of his mouth met you down there you actually screamed.

"Woah! Hey, it's alright-" he jumped up, holding your hip down as you almost began hyperventilating.

"S-sorry. Y-you su-urprised m-me," you stammered through your confusion and fright, trying to gulp down breaths to steady your heart rate. Now, you'd given blowjobs before, but none of the men had ever reciprocated. "Yo-you don't have t-to." You'd never even suggested it before, coming under the assumption that it was just a dirty thing that men didn't like to do. "D-don't feel obligated be-because I-"

"Has no one done this to you before?"

You shook your head, cheeks flushing, thankful for the darkness to hide your face. Or... that's what you thought. You didn't know there was a light on in the room and Paz could see everything going on. So then why did you shake your head? You were too frazzled to think straight.

"Mesh'la, I want to. I want to taste you everywhere."

The confession made you whimper wistfully. "But I thought-" that guys didn't like to do this.

"I don't know why someone wouldn't have by now," Paz admitted, caressing the skin he'd marked up, admiring your complexion and body.. Even as he told you this, part of him was further aroused that he'd be the first to take this from you. "You're so pretty. Everywhere. Especially down there. Will you let me?"

Part of you was disconcerted, battling with the idea that you'd thought was a no-go for most people. But then you thought about how nice the warmth of his mouth had felt and the trust you had in him to make you feel good. Finally, you nodded again.

Paz returned between your legs, carefully warning you as he blew on your clit before lathing his tongue over it. Your neck jerked and you arched immediately, the new, foreign sensation making you cry out, but not of surprise. Gripping the blankets, your legs trembled, his palm keeping you from closing and squeezing on him. His tongue was softer than his fingers, more dexterous and able to fill your clit up entirely, tracing it in a new way that felt erotically luxurious and overwhelming. "So sweet, love. And wet. All of this for me?"

You hummed in agreement, barely able to control yourself as you clenched your teeth between huffs. Why had no one done this before? Stars, you had no idea what you were missing out on. How much more was there that you'd not experienced? He sucked on your bud, switching between lavishing attention and swirling circles. He trailed down, his tongue dipping between your folds, the insides of your sensitive thighs catching the rough edge of his facial hair.

He returned to your aching nerves, laying into you as his tongue flicked quickly, clutching your thigh as your breaths became more labored. You couldn't see, but you felt it coming, scooping low into your pelvis, pressure building to the point where you felt the reins of your control slipping and you got choked up. He might've spoken had his mouth not been what was dragging you to the proverbial edge, destroying you, obliterating you like the Death Star had done to countless planets. You disintegrated, the same bird flying over the edge, but this time both wings were healed and you soared into the sky. You kept riding, his mouth replaced with fingers as he continued his ministrations through your orgasm.

"That's it mesh'la," he soothed, the deep voice cradling you as you panted and came down, legs clutching as your clit became intensely oversensitive. He licked between your folds, removing his hand from your swollen clit and began lapping up the mess you'd made.

"W-wh-wha," you were breathy and a little incoherent, speech slurring as you tried to fumble around for him blindly.

"What is it?" he inquired calmly.

"Wh-what about you?"

"Do you want to keep going?"

"Mhm."

"Tell me what you want," he edged up the bed, coming down to lay beside you, returning his mouth to yours. He was wet, facial hair damp from eating you out, and his tongue was tacky. The taste was foreign, but not unpleasant and a little sweet. He wasn't wearing any beskar now, which must've been why it had taken him a moment to come to bed. Your palm met his bare chest and you savored the ability to finally be able to explore it. You were careful, not wishing to brush too hard against his ribs, but what you felt was as impressive as what you'd seen before. Your fingers butterflied over his strong pectoral muscles, trailing to meet in the center as you coasted between his ribs and to his solid abdomen. He was broad, hips bigger than yours, a wisp of hair descending below the belt.

"This," you slid your hand underneath his waistband, not surprised to find him hard after playing with you. It'd been like this last time. Even though you claimed it, you were partially terrified of trying to accommodate his cock. A thrill rushed through you, the idea of the immense pleasure it could bring or how it'd fuck you within an inch of your life. There was no knowing until you tried and you wanted to try.

He huffed in your ear, "You certain?"

"Yes," you asserted, squeezing him and enjoying the moan that followed; your small palm couldn’t even fully encircle his girth. Yet it was the unmodulated tone of his bass, filling your belly up with warmth as he laid beside you. Stars, his voice was so much better, if that were even possible. Every breath, noise, and huff no longer crackling with static and the full heat of it numbing your senses.

"You... should be wet enough, but-" he considered you, Maker he wanted to do it, but you were so small. You weren't frail, you'd proven this by now, but the difference in size between the two of you was severe. You only reached up to his chest while standing, not even his shoulders. He was afraid of breaking you.

Now your hands had wormed down and you cupped his balls, squeezing all recourse from his mind as he moaned again. "I trust you."

Paz drew in a deep breath, filling his diaphragm as he considered the logistics very, very briefly. His ribs still hurt and they were aching now. "You'll have to go on top, mesh'la."

You were always up for a challenge, despite the fact that his words sort of scared you. On top? As in getting speared by him? Absolutely split open with nowhere to go? He was rubbing reassuring circles into your side, giving you the time you needed to think about this before you finally gave another 'mhm'. Hooking your fingers of the waistband of his pants, you helped guide them off before he sprung up in your palm. Able to estimate where his hips were, you threw a leg over and pressed his shaft into the heat of your folds, beginning to slick him with your wetness. Each stroke against him was debilitating, from the sensation of your pussy, to the way your perky breasts bobbed, and the cascade of hair fanned out in a curly cloak behind you. Paz was absolutely entransed.

Finally, you decided you were wet enough to make your attempts. Realizing what you were about to do, he gripped your hips as you came up onto your knees, touching his weeping head to your heat. Your legs began to quiver, anxious but also excited, blood rushing as quickly and suddenly as a flash flood as you tested carefully. Just his head stretched you wide and there was more to follow. This was gruelling work, so painfully slow that you weren't even certain it was possible as you coasted down an inch and stiffened. Drawing a deep breath, you shimmied more and let out a heart stopping moan. The rest of him slicked up and you yelped as he was buried to the hilt.

Both of you froze, mostly you because you hadn't expected the rest to go in so easily. Not easily exactly. Your entire insides felt as if they'd been rearranged at this point and you didn't know if that was good or bad or if moving would make it worse. So you sat there, on the brink of panic.

Paz was frozen because you were so fucking tight. His cock felt as if it were being strangled by you and you weren't even doing anything. His head fell heavy against the pillow and he tried not to spend himself in that moment, but it was difficult. You were silken inside, the tight walls a vice grip around his cock and pulsing around him.

And then you moved, testing the waters a little bit and bucking forward as you knew this was going to obliterate you. Not in the same sense as the orgasm Paz had brought you to before, but in the sense you were going to hurt tomorrow. Even now your legs ached as you mounted him, refusing to move properly as you tried to ride him.

He could see your struggling and the valiant effort you were making to move, but he gleaned that this was overwhelming for you too, your pubic area distended slightly as your tiny frame managed to fit him. Maker, the sight of that caused him to shift, grinding his hips into you, watching as you released the lip you were biting and cry out gently. He could see his own form in you, stretching you, but somehow still fitting aside from the telltale bulge.

"We can... we can stop-" Paz offered despite the fact he didn't want that. He wanted to keep going. He wanted to see how he moved inside of you, filled you up, and made you whimper. His thoughts were derailing and he was losing his composure.

"N-no. I just... need help," you told him dolefully.

He could do that. "Just tell me if it's too much." He began slowly before smoothing his hands along your hips. The last thing he wanted to do was break you before leaving you on your own. The rhythm was slow at first, each soft strike causing you to moan in protest, but it was the slowness that hurt more. You began to move into him, picking the pace up a bit, working in tandem so that his hands could guide and assist your trembling legs. It still hurt, but it was a blistering white burst, each hit against your pelvis a battle between pleasure and pain. Maker, you'd never been stretched so wide before and it was so good, an experience of ecstasy you’d never had the honor of battling, clenching your jaw as you fought for control and were beginning to unravel at the seams.

You moaned his name finally, incapable of keeping a straight face, the result an even quicker assault into your cunt, his fingers brushing back against your clit as you panted.

"Mesh'la, Maker-- you're so fucking good. So tight and perfect. Cum for me a second time? Will you?"

"Mm," you couldn’t even talk as you could feel it building up in you as he drew quick circles, pounding into you, your back aching as you tensed. Your ailing core was glazing over and your eyes rolling back into your head as you started to fall away. "A-ah. I-I'm going to, b-but-" Where would he finish? You weren't on any kind of birth control, you hadn't needed to be for a couple of years now.

He shifted, throwing you down against the mattress with ease, before continuing to strike into you. This angle was different, his mouth meeting yours, the soft mutterings in a language you didn't understand not mattering. You knew he was saying sweet things in your ear. "Where?" he knew it was coming, you were on the brink of an orgasm, toes curling.

"O-on me," you managed, just as your body betrayed you, muscles snapping into rigidity and voice halting to a pitiful whine in the back of your throat as you lost sense of up and down. You were snared by the rapture of each forceful pound into your cunt, fingers still tracing your clit, until you were overwhelmed entirely and mumbling incoherently.

It took all his will as you clamped down around him, walls fluttering and back arching beneath him. The darling noises in tandem with how good you felt made it gut wrenching to pull out and stroke out the last few bits of his orgasm, spending his seed on your breasts and stomach. The pearly ropes flew from him as if he hadn't just been sucked dry a few nights ago. Glistening in the low light with his cum, your chest continued to bob as you came down from your high a second time. You were a pretty sight, one that he admired as you tried to catch your breath.

Eventually, you brushed your chest, coming away with the sticky cum. Bringing it up, you slid your fingers into your mouth, suckling away the precious liquid just as you had done before. You savored the taste of him, finding yourself hungry for it again after last night. Paz was leaning back against the headboard, length twitching as he watched you lazily mop up his spent load and place it between those plush lips and swallow. You missed a few spots in your blindness, but Paz scooped it up, bringing it to your mouth where you cleaned his fingers. He kissed you after, an insistence mess of his lips as he tried to prove what he was feeling with that kiss.

"Mesh'la," he purred, pulling you back across the bed and into his arms. You fit perfectly enough that he could snake his arm around your hip and nestle onto the curve of your ass. "Are you hurt? How are you feeling?"

"Good.. tired, but good," you mumbled, naturally nuzzling into the side of his pec as his arm came around you like that other night. Your legs ached, numbed slightly and from how you’d been split open further than ever before, but you didn't regret any of it. "Was it good for you? I'm sorry I had to ask for help."

"Don't be sorry, I didn't think you'd even be able to fit me," he chuckled, brushing your thick hair back and coasting his thumb in crescents along your hipbone. "You were amazing. So perfect. Just wish my ribs weren't still hurting."

"Are they ok right now?" you reached up gingerly, grazing over the afflicted side.

"They're fine."

"Maybe I shouldn't have... you did turn me over at the end..."

"Shh, I'm fine," he assured you, grabbing the edge of the blanket and tugging it over both of your forms. "Just go to sleep. I'll be here in the morning. You're safe."

"I know," you mumble, nearly incoherent as you're pushing a kiss into his collarbone. "I know."

---

He was there like promised when morning came, strong, solid, warm, and snuggled close, but you were also duly reminded that you hadn't been home a lot in the last few days while working on the Kote. You really didn't want to leave his side, because there were probably only a few days left of getting to be beside him, but you also couldn't ignore your animals. The idea of pulling away made your every fiber shriek in disdain, because you’d wanted this more than anything. To wake up beside someone, to be in their arms, and to just waste an entire day there.

"Paz," you whispered, poking his chest lightly.

"Hm?" he sounded groggy, as if you'd woken him up by doing that.

"I have to go check on the farm," you said apologetically. Truly, you didn’t want to go. "Do you have your helmet nearby so I can get up?"

His fingers tightened around you, the idea of having to lose you not a fond one, but you had responsibilities. Sighing, he grabbed it off of the nightstand and slid it back on, smothering the clean smell of you and the breaths he’d once felt against his cheek. Each moment that you both lingered like this staved off the eventual separation. Chasing it away like a bad dream. But sleep was coming and you couldn't keep that nightmare away forever, nor the sorrow that would chase after. "I'll meet you there in a bit."

You removed the blindfold after the sound of the helmet clicking back into place. Finally able to see, his chest was revealed to you and you could make out the lattice work of scars along it that you hadn't quite noticed before when you'd stripped him to heal him. They were hidden beneath his chest hair, but this close, you could really see them. Maybe you'd get to ask about them before he left. You tried not to wince at the idea, shoving it to the back of your mind after pressing a kiss to his chest.

"Where did you put my clothes?"

"In the ion cleaner, next to the fresher."

"See you soon," you hummed, heading out, naked as the day you were born to find your clothes where he'd told you. They were clean and fresh, vacant of oil and clay filled sand. Throwing it back on, you snapped the scrunchie on your wrist around your hair and smiled gently. This was his home, so neat and clean when it wasn't in disarray from a crash landing. It suited him, you decided. There was a homey feeling to it despite it just being a starship. Maybe that was because of the night you'd shared around the table, talking about something that was a part of his everyday life, leaning about it... he had described everything so well to you.

There was only one speeder bike, but you knew the path well enough that walking on this fine morning wasn't a big deal. Sunlight smiling over the ridge, not yet basking you in its warmth as it hadn’t crested the edge of the canyon. Trudging up the pass, you hummed a soft tune, finding that despite your legs being a kind of achy, that you're in a really good mood. It didn't really skim your mind that you hadn't seen Jumbles in a few days. He wasn't actually your pet, just a wild animal that liked your company. He was probably fine, hunting in the nearby passes while you only checked in periodically to feed the remaining tip-yips. Wait... How many days had it been? It might've been two since you went home.

Picking up your pace, you chugged up the rest of the hill and glanced at the coop. No chickens. Aw hell, did those fucking assholes take all of them? Usually they made pretty well on their bargains. Fuck. You'd have a stern talking to Tho next time you saw him. Maybe you'd be even angrier if you weren't in such a pleasant mood from your evening with Paz, but you were already destined to go to the city. Grumbling, you stomped over toward your home something catching your eye. Not something... more like a few things. There were a handful of speeder bikes out in front of your house.

Had someone stopped by? Ah, well as long as they hadn't dumped the place you supposed that was fine. Make themselves at home within reason. You went to the front door and opened it, somewhat excited to have other guests. Man, so many people all in such a short amount of time!

And then your chipper smile slid right off. Sitting at your kitchen table was a pod of stormtroopers. "Uhhhhhhhh," you froze in the doorway. You were good at fixing things, but reacting on a dime during a stressful encounter? Shit. You were absolute massiff shit at that.

"Do you live here?" one trooper inquired.

"Y-yeah," you looked between them, realizing that they were playing Sabacc. Ha. That was kind of funny. "Am I in trouble? Can I help you with anything?" You clasped your hands in front of you to keep them from shaking. The Empire had been looking for Paz. Is that why they were here? Nothing else on this planet that might interest them.

"Depends. Have you seen a Mandalorian?"

You giggle, because you're extremely nervous and that seems the logical thing to do. Had you seen a Mandalorian? You'd slept with him last night. Was that the Mandalorian they were looking for? "Nu-uh," you lied, hooking your fingers in your utility belt. "Why would a Mandalorian be all the way out here? Ain't nothing out here."

"You're out here," a stormtrooper pointed out. This one was in all black armor and he sounded more dangerous than the others. The grit of his tone raked unpleasantly down your spine and your anxious smile quavered. "What's a pretty little thing doing out in the middle of nowhere?"

"Workin'," you grumble.

"No husband? No family?"

"Gotta husband," you protested, hoping that saying this would deter them from doing anything... bad. Kriff, what were you kidding, they were going to do whatever they wanted unless Paz was right behind you and you knew he wasn't.

"No, you don't," the dark stormtrooper laughed. "You're here on your own. I know, because I went through this shack."

Fuck. Welp. You had two choices and you didn't have a blaster, so you turned around and fucking booked it. Flight. Definitely flight. You heard them shuffling after you, legs regrettably weak from your tryst with Paz and you were stubby and short. Adrenaline did a good amount of the work for you as you sprinted back down into the ravine, sorta praying a krayt dragon would pop up and save your sorry ass.

"Stop running!" You were yanked right off your feet, held up by the back of your coveralls like a kitten. You garbled, losing a chunk of the oxygen in your lungs as you swayed. "You know where he is, don't you?"

"N-no! I do-on't know w-what you're talkin' 'bout!" You thrashed helplessly in his grasp, the dark trooper leaning in.

"Mhm, so I'm guessing that your nonexistent husband gave these to you," he poked at a sensitive mark on your neck, making you gasp, completely forgetting that Paz had given you those. "I mean, if I found you out here on your own, I probably would've done the same. Look at you. Must be lonely to let some random mando sleep with you. Tell us where he is and I'll show you a better time. What a real Mandalorian is like."

He was Mandalorian? He was wearing the wrong armor. You gave him a look down before bucking, continuing to thrash to no avail. Nothing ever happened on this planet. Why the one time something really good happened it was followed by the freaking Empire?

"Stop," the trooper ordered, but you didn't, you just kept flopping around like a fish hoping he'd drop you. "Stop!" He slapped you so hard that you felt it in zip all the way down to your toes. Now you stopped, ears ringing and eyes unfocused as stars danced in front of your vision. "There. That's a good girl. Now tell me where the Mandalorian is and I'll be a little nicer next time." Good girl? No, he hadn’t done anything to deserve calling you that.

You gave him a contemptuous glare after your vision stopped spinning, still rather pitiful coming from you. He was waiting for an answer. So you cursed at him in Jawaese, deserving of another earth rending slap.

"You've seen him. Where. Is. He?" he drew his blaster and pointed it at you, cold metal meeting your tender throat. "I thought people were hospitable on this planet. You've been nothing but a hassle. The Mandalorian's not worthy dying over. Just tell us where he is and we'll let you go."

Maybe the Jawas hadn't taken your tip-yips. How many days had the Imps been here? You glanced around, jaw stinging and weary from your fight. You were still off your feet like a petulant loth-cat being held by its scruff. The other troopers were milling around, kicking over supplies, they'd pushed 6PO to the ground and it couldn't get up, legs flailing, cricking quietly as it couldn't speak to ask for help. Jumbles wasn't around, which didn't make any sense. Jumbles was always around. Jumbles was-- and then you saw him. Over by the barn door where you stored your speeder bikes, his legs sticking out from the door.

"Jumbles?" But you knew he wasn't going to get up. You knew you weren't going to see his stupid drooling face. You could feel the lack of lifeforce from him. They weren't going to let you go. No, one of the stormtroopers was pouring fuel all over the tip-yip coop, another was pilfering through your greenhouse. "Jumbles?!" You were more hysteric this time, blinking tears as you began crying over the massiff.

The death trooper glanced in the direction of the barn. "Oh that?" he tilted his blaster away to laugh. "That thing was your pet? Thought only Tuskens kept them. Learn something new everyday. So, what's it gonna be, dala?"

#paz vizla x you #paz vizsla x reader #paz vizsla x you #the mandalorian fanfic #the mandalorian fanfiction #paz vizsla smut #smut with plot #smut with feelings #star-burned

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hobidreams · 6 years ago

Text

Stay Quiet | JJK {M}

you think the library is only a place for studying. jungkook convinces you otherwise.

pairing: boyfriend!jungkook x reader genre: smut, a dash of fluff words: 2.7k contains: college au, public place, condomless sex, oral (f), dirty talk, you almost get caught, but you kind of like it a/n: spawned from the drabble prompt that’s bolded in the text! reposted, thanks to tumblr being tumblr.

You have one goal for this term: a 4.0 GPA. Or as close to it as you can get. Grad school application deadlines are coming up, and you’re so close to the end you can practically taste the celebratory beer on your tongue. The library has become your new home, open twenty-four hours a day for all your studying needs. Your new routine is waking up early and leaving late. You don’t actually mind spending so much time here, not if it’ll get you to the marks you want and need.

Unfortunately, your boyfriend doesn’t seem to share that opinion.

“Jungkook, stop staring at me,” you mumble as you flip the page of your textbook. “Is there something on my face?” You’re eight hours into today’s stretch and it’s just nearing dinnertime, so the crowd has thinned out a bit, leaving just a few study groups occupying the tables.

“No, you’re just pretty.” Jungkook grins, handsomeness radiating off him in his casual black tee and slightly mussed dark hair. Single silver hoops hang from his ears, your birthday present to him last year. He never leaves home without them.

You can’t help but smile at his words. He always makes you feel like the most beautiful woman in the world, even through the current exhaustion and grease and stress. You love him so much. Even though he’s totally distracting. “Thanks.”

“Aaagh, I’m bored. I’ve already browsed through all the Reddit threads and Facebook posts I can.” He throws his arms in the air in a stretch.

“You could just go home.”

“Home’s boring without you.”

You let your highlighter drop onto the table and meet his gaze. “If you’re going to stay, you should study.”

“I know all the material already.” He purses his lips as he taps his fingers on the tabletop to a quiet beat. “Plus… You’re wearing those sweatpants again.”

Your eyebrows knit. “What’s wrong with the sweatpants?”

“Nothing wrong, but it just… It makes me think of the last time you wore them.”

You try to wrack your brain for that particular memory but come up short. “What do you—"

“Can you please stop talking?” A person from the table next to you interrupts, annoyance in their squinted eyes and pouty mouth.

“Sorry,” you whisper, offering a raised hand in apology.

When you look back, Jungkook’s scribbling away on a scrap piece of notebook. Half a minute later, he tears it, hands it to you with a perfectly innocuous look on his face. You take the page, feeling a bit of high school nostalgia as you cast your eyes to his penned words.

Movie night. You wore them and your black thong, and I almost ruined ‘em when I stripped them off? Fuck. You came five times. It was amazing.

Are you blushing? You’re pretty sure you’re blushing, reading such filthy words in a public space. It’s coming back to you now, how you teased him by grinding your butt against him the entire night with subtle shifts. You had taken your delight in the way he became stiff in his jeans, emitting guttural grunts of frustrated arousal. He’d punished you (or was it a reward?) for it after, nice and slowly.

I can’t stop thinking about your pussy wrapped around me. So tight, so wet. If we were home, I’d already have my hands in your panties. Baby, I wanna touch you.

“Jungkook!” You whisper-hiss after finishing the second note he slips your way. “I have to study!”

He leans back, face infuriatingly neutral as he pushes away from the desk in the roller-chair. He adjusts his baggy top, your eyes drawn to his crotch as he pulls his shirt away and damn it, he’s half-hard. He knows what bulges do to you, especially his. You hate yourself for falling so easily for his seduction, heat already swirling in the pit of your tummy.

You suck in air through gritted teeth. You’re not going to get anything done like this; you need to set things straight. He’s already starting on his third note, amused by the faces you make as you read. You interrupt him. “Come with me.” You stand up.

Jungkook practically bounces to his feet, following close behind. He reaches for your hand along the way, sweetly lacing his fingers with yours. You’re heading for the very back of the floor among the stacks and shelves, where all the Old English books are stored, and no one ever goes. When you deem this to be as much privacy as you’re going to get, you whirl around.

“Jungkook, you can’t keep writing those notes.” You fight to keep your eyes on his, pointedly away from his crotch.

He’s not nearly as flustered as you. He calmly leans against the shelf with his arms crossed. “Why not? Are they affecting you?” That smirk. Ugh. All this time, and it still makes your heart flutter.

You don’t respond. Can’t, really, as he closes the distance between you with a few steps. His toned arms trap you in heat, breath warm against your forehead while he drops soft, promising kisses. Jungkook’s eager fingers start to trace the band of your sweatpants, just barely dipping inside to toy with the panties beneath. They’re plain, cotton, but still one of the hottest things Jungkook’s ever touched because they’re yours. “How wet are you under here?”

When he draws you closer, you can feel the outline of his full cock against your thigh. “Just let me have a taste, baby.” He palms your ass cheeks and if your pants weren’t in the way, he would hear the wet squelch of your soaked slit when he parts you.

You swivel your head, staring through the cracks of the books, hoping you won’t find another person among the tomes. “W-We’re in public, you know.”

“Please.” Jungkook licks his lips. “Don’t make me wait any longer to have you.”

You’ve lost. You know it by the flames that lick at your thighs, begging to be doused by his tongue. You know it by the knots tying themselves in the pit of your stomach, unraveled only by his touch. He drops to his knees and drags your pants down with him. You lean back against the surprisingly sturdy bookshelf and try to tell yourself that nobody comes back here anyway.

He flits that cute nose across your thigh, close enough to drink in the honey scent of your lust. “I’d say I’ll try to make this quick but... We both know I would be lying.” He trails a fingernail down your clothed slit. You shiver when he brings it back up, circling around your clit.

“We don’t have the time,” you mutter, too aware of the instinctual bucking of your hips to meet his fingers.

“You’re just impatient.” He whips his eyes up to meet yours, mirth clear in his dark irises as he gives you that mischievous bunny smile. But he’s nice to you, seeing as he’s in love with you and all. He eases your underwear halfway down your legs, enough to expose you to the stale library air and to his stare. He spreads you like he did before, this time the lewd noises clear and enticing.

Jungkook emits a low groan at the sight of your juices glistening, smeared all over the lips of your cunt. “You were gonna study while you were like this?” He dips his finger into you to gather droplets to use as lube for your clit. “You’re soaked, baby. Just from thinking about my cock?”

Your answer is a furtive whimper when he kisses your clit, tongue lavishing saliva and stimulation. He’ll be the first to admit that he’s addicted to your taste and how you twitch in response to the flicks, the licks. He can tell that you’re nervous right now, probably too aware that you could be caught as you keep looking around. But the fact that pleasure is burning away your fears? That turns him on.

Jungkook’s slim hands leave slight imprints on your thighs as he continues with coquettish strokes, flitting in and out. It’s an erratic rhythm to match your heart, twitching with fear at every slight noise or bump, afraid that someone will poke their head around the corner. But there’s a thrill with that too – one that you’ll probably never admit out loud but manifests itself in the jolts of bliss shooting through your nerves. It’s a high that Jungkook understands so well, adrenaline junkie that he is.

He can never hold out for too long after tasting your tangy sweetness. The tender exploration turns into something much more when he plunges his tongue into your cunt, shallowly fucking you as an infuriating preview for what his cock can do. If only he’d reward you with a finger. But he seems content to dart his tongue in and out, switching between that and a suction that makes your knees long to crumble. Your hands search for something to hold on to, eventually settling for a few dusty, thick-spined hardcovers.

“T-Too loud, Jungkook,” you stutter, sure that all his sucking and slurping is attracting too much attention among these confined walls.

“Can’t help it when you taste so good.” He smirks, looking filthy yet boyishly handsome with his lips all shiny, pink. “You know how much I love your pussy.” He presses a fond kiss to your clit, as if you wouldn’t believe him otherwise.

“Still… We have to stay quiet…” But you’re a hypocrite with the moans that tumble from your mouth, as unstoppable as the wetness drooling from between your thighs when he settles back in. If you were back home, you’d already be screaming his name and you both know it. You settle for burying your hands into his hair and raking your nails along his scalp.

“What if I want to hear you?” Jungkook grins because you’re grinding yourself onto his mouth. You can’t get enough of him despite yourself; his tongue’s just too convincing when it’s stroking its way up your heat. “Moaning like you always do when you come for me.” His hands grab palmfuls of your ass and squeeze. “Damn. Just thinking about it makes me so hard.”

When he lightly hollows his cheeks to add suction, every semblance of sanity slips from your mind. You tug his head higher as the shaking starts, but he doesn’t need your encouragement to keep his rapid pace. He’s seeking the reward of your whimpers as he draws out your climax until you’re too sensitive to go any further. At least, like this.

Jungkook surges to his feet. His belt and jeans clatter to the floor, pooling around his ankles before your aftershocks have had any time to subside. He spins you around, decisive hands not allowing any counterargument while your chest meets the shelf. All you can see through the musty books is the grey wall.

“S-Someone needs to keep a watch out.” You’re fretting, but the full, solid cock that nudges against your posterior demands your attention.

“Nah. Just focus on me.” One thrust, and he plunges the first delicious inch inside you. “Focus on how I’m going to fuck you, baby.”

It’s true – he makes it hard to think about anything else with the stretch of his cock, the girth addicting. His hands find purchase on your waist, pulling you closer to him as he snaps his hips upward. In three thrusts, he’s drenched himself wholly into your heat. He’s trying to control himself as best as he can but your walls cling eagerly to his shaft, spurring him on. The shelves slightly rattle against the concrete in reply.

“It’s been too long since I was inside you,” he growls, nipping at the column of your neck. “I missed this pussy so much.”

“Missed you too.” You’d forgotten how the pressure builds so furiously, racking up with each thrust that kisses your cervix. You try to adjust, wanting to staunch the slap of his hips against yours, but he’s pumping at a pace that refuses to be quieted. Hells, you’re close to just abandoning your inhibitions. It would be so much easier to just give yourself over to Jungkook, to let him fuck you both into moan-filled, sloppy orgasms among the silent audience of books.

Then you hear the footsteps.

Unmistakeable.

Padding across the carpet, steadily coming your way. Probably boots or something, judging by the heavy, noisy steps.

Your heart sputters. “Shit.” Cursing, you try to push Jungkook away so you can have some semblance of plausible deniability but his arms hold you still. His cock stays right where it is, plunged all the way to his balls. “Jungkook, someone’s coming!”

“Shhhh.”

“Oh god, they’re getting closer,” you whine. “They’re going to see.” Fear ripples through you but excitement is firmly alongside it – thrilling and obvious while your muscles tense.

Jungkook groans, a tortured, soft noise when your cunt cinches around his shaft. “Who’s my dirty girl?” He whispers against the rim of your ear. “Getting so tight. I think you want to be caught.”

“Jungkoook...” Now when you say his name, it’s in frustration. He’s only grinding his hilted cock, enough to make the slight friction agony.

“I think you want them to see you like this, so fucking gorgeous on my cock. Sucking me in so well.” A lazy crescendo of thrusts threatens to buckle your knees when they turn into deadly pumps, aimed right for your sweet spot. Your voice is higher than it’s ever been, high pitched and whiny in your need. It makes your boyfriend chuckle. “You’re not being quiet at all.”

Arching against him, you feel sweat trickle down your spine. “I’m t-trying...”

Suddenly, he slams himself all the way home. “Let’s put on a show, yeah?” You jolt forward, his grunts animalistic and low with each rut. One of his arms hooked around your waist, he moves like nothing else matters in the world except bringing you pleasure and taking it in turn. Every smack of his pelvic bone against your ass feels possessive and you can’t get enough, even though you can practically feel the new pair of an intruder’s eyes on you.

Your mingled lust drips in rivulets down from your cunt onto his balls, more trickling out with every stroke. He just keeps going, the stamina trained through hours upon hours at the gym put to fantastic use. Especially when he nudges your legs apart even more. He lowers two fingers to your neglected clit and starts to rub.

It’s not even a minute later that you’re coming helplessly, bucking your ass back into him in a carnal search for more. His fingers never stop sending pleasure through your veins. It’s a double-edged sword, bringing him crashing down with you seconds later. Jungkook shoves himself so deeply into you that it hurts, but it’s so worth it to hear his groans, to feel the hot burst of cum shot right against your core.

He doesn’t stop until your walls are thoroughly sodden with him, still spasming erratically in climax. You hang your head and just try to breathe through the humid air. Your cheeks burn, stroked by the hair fallen out of your ponytail. Having Jungkook pressed against you doesn’t help, for his temperature runs just as high.

A minute later, rationale returns to your addled brain as the spent cock slips from you. “Oh!” You spin, looking desperately around Jungkook and the shelves for any signs of your unwanted visitor. Your heart only calms when you confirm with your own eyes that there’s no one there. “Damn it, babe, we could’ve been kicked out if that person came any closer!” You lightly swat at his arm while he produces a tissue from a pocket, to soak up the leaking cum.

Jungkook laughs, thinking your glare is much more cute than intimidating. “I heard them leave a while back. You were just too distracted to notice.” He lightly touches your nose with his own – a soft, loving boop.

“Whatever...” Your cheeks flushed, you reach down for your sweatpants. “Will you let me study now?” You grumble. You’re not actually sure if you’ll get any work done though, not when your thighs and cunt are slick with pleasure’s mess.

Jungkook affectionately pats your butt. Then he buries his face in your hair for a kiss from a smirking mouth. “Maybe.”

#btssmutclub #jungkook smut #bts smut #bts imagines #bts reactions #jungkook x reader #rain writes #stay quiet #i reaaally hope this works #i give up if it doesn't

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finleyjayne · 5 years ago

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EXTRA

Pairing: Bucky x Fem!Reader

A/N: Hey guys, I know y’all don’t know me but I’m going to be trying to post some of my fan-fiction. It’s both exciting and scary, please reblog, share. I’m going to be trying to write a little blurb every day for the month of April. If you have any requests please send them my way and I’ll try my best. Thank you in advance. If you want to follow me for ONLY writings my writing blog is @finleyjaynewriting.

Warnings: Angst, Panic Attack, Self-deprecating thoughts

Summary: You are a part of the Avengers family but it’s sometimes hard to keep yourself from falling into bad habits that you thought you kicked when an essay question from your last college English class causes you to backslide. It’s a good thing your boyfriend Bucky is there to rally the troops and remind you that you are loved, even when you decide to run around the tower in a cape.

picture credit goes to: Marwan & Khaled Couture Fall/Winter 2019

Originally blogged by @fashion-runways

You had been sitting here, staring at your outline notes, grading rubric, and notebook for over an hour. And you still hadn't a scrap of what to write. The list of adjectives on the page getting fuzzier as you tried to decide whether or not they fit you. Or if they were something that your friends, team-members, or family would use to describe you.

If there was one word to describe you, you'd like to think that it was intelligent. But seeing as you live in a tower with not one but two geniuses and three supersoldiers who have heightened cognitive functions, it was terrifying how stupid you feel on the daily. Even with your triple-majored ass, you were on the lower end of intelligence.

Okay, so the people around you wouldn't call you the smart one in the group. What about determined. I mean, it takes a substantial amount of determination to get three master's degrees at the same time in five years. Tapping your pen against your chin as you think, you shake your head. Yeah, no, not when compared to Mr. I-can-do-this-all-day.

Sam is the compassionate and supportive one.

Natasha is independent and fearless.

Bucky is strong and loyal.

Bruce is sweet and patient.

Wanda is attentive and courageous.

Tony is eccentric and a genius.

Steve is gentle and determined.

Clint is funny and hardworking (even if he tries to play it off).

Gods, this assignment is going to be the downfall of my perfect 4.0 GPA. You think to yourself, slamming your head onto your notebooks. Why did you have to take English? None of your majors were English oriented. Music, Engineering, and Chemistry. No English, no need to know how to write a complete sentence. No need to write 2 pages on what your friends consider you using one word. You should know, you've made it 97% of the way through all three majors without taking a single English class. The most writing I had to do was my dissertations, which had nothing to do with this useless "self-expression piece." The prompt doesn't even make sense! Write 1000+ words on a single word. How is that logically not just busy-work?

Just as your eyes and sinuses start filling with the feeling of hopelessness, Bucky comes waltzing into the tower's library with his book of the week.

"Heya dollface. Taking a nap?" He calls, the chuckle entwining into his voice in that perfect way it does.

And that's all it takes for your body to unleash the body-shaking sobs. The soulful wail that tore through your chest and out your trembling lips was nothing like you'd ever let anyone see. Especially not your team. You were already the weak one. You didn't need them to think anything less, but after comparing yourself to them for the last two and a half hours, you couldn't keep your self-deprecation locked in its cage anymore.

Seeing you this way was terrifying for Bucky. He had never seen you cry anywhere besides on stage. Not when you had been on the Mission from Hell. Not when you were hormonal, and Clint stole your heating stuffy. Not even when you were grieving the loss of your ex-girlfriend. So now having your usually bubbly, determined, happy-go-lucky self in a full breakdown was new territory for him.

"Woah," he said, eyes widening as he stared. "Hey, hey, hey, it's okay, doll. If anybody deserves a nap, it's you." He comforted as he took giant steps to your chair. Lifting you effortlessly and positioning you into the cradle of his arms as he took a seat in the large Papasan chair to the side of your chosen workspace. Holding you in a tight embrace like you did when he was having a hard time with his anxiety.

He focused on breathing evenly and keeping his heartbeat in check, knowing that if he didn't stay calm, the situation would escalate into something worse. Shushing you and rocking you as he observed the table for anything that could give away why you were crying. Bucky knew better than most about your anxiety and depression. He had asked you once how you knew so much about helping him during one of your many cuddle sessions. You had just said that you were working from your own encounters before you changed the subject.

Though he didn't know everything, Bucky did try to help you as much as he could, especially as your friendship turned into something more. Still, he couldn't see anything that would cause you to become this upset. Usually, you would complain about your English assignments as you hyper-focused on them. Giving up on figuring it himself, he turned back to his distraught girlfriend, who was fighting to control her emotions in his arms.

"Babygirl, can you match your breaths to mine? Come on. Breathe in, hold, breathe out." He whispered, holding her tighter to him as she shakily followed him through the exercise a few more times. "Good, now what has my BAMF girlfriend distressed. Who do I need to take care of?"

You could feel the seriousness in his voice before you could see him through your tears. "Nobody, it's not a big deal. Just a stupid essay for English."

"Don't give me that shit, Y/F/N Y/L/N." Bucky cuts off your excuses sternly. "You rarely cry, which, no matter how much you fight it, is unhealthy." Before you could even open your mouth to argue, he had a gentle, calloused finger on your lips. "Not going to remonstrate this. You are clearly upset, you are not okay, and that is okay. I just want to know why so I can help you more fully." He says, lifting his finger from your lips to tuck a few strands of your hair from your face.

Sighing, you look down. "It's just this essay, I have to write about one word that my friends use to describe me. I ended up spiraling while trying to find a word that would be mine when all the ones I usually consider myself are more aptly displayed by somebody else. Honestly, I don't know why you keep me around. I'm pretty average." you admit, curling in on yourself as your tears gather again.

"Hey, none of that printsessa." He scolded you softly. "You are important to us. You are smart, fun, and inspirational. You are the reason we aren't at each other's throats. You are the instigator of too many of our team-building exercises. You single-handedly instigated the reconciliation between Steve and Tony." He started, giving you a smirk as you begin to scrunch your nose up. Tears were forgotten.

You really didn't like it when he made sense when you were upset. It made feeling bad really hard. The worst part; Bucky damned well knew it. "But, you're biased, Bucky."

"Maybe I am, but I also know you. And if I heard you correctly: It doesn't say one word YOU would choose to call yourself, but one word WE would define you as. Therefore, you shouldn't be wondering what words we would use. You should have gotten up and asked us. Or even better, you should've texted the group chat and asked! Then you wouldn't be here sending yourself into a hate-spiral, doll." Bucky reprimands softly. Determined to get rid of the lies that your mind is spewing at you, just like you do for him.

"I don't wanna bother you guys with my stupid homework. You guys didn't sign up to be pestered by my lack of self-mediation." You grumble huffily, knowing full well you are acting stubborn.

"If you won't help yourself. I guess it's up to me to help you." Bucky states, standing up with you still cradled snugly in his arms.

"BUCKY!" You admonish, clinging to him at his sudden movement. "At least let me walk. I'm overwhelmed and sad, not crippled."

"What's to say, I don't just wanna carry you? Huh? Also, you're holding me just as tightly love." He smiles brightly at you, kissing you briefly before turning back to the exit. Book, schoolwork, and his original objective forgotten for his new mission. He was going to find his doll her confidence again, with all the positive affirmations that should've been her first thoughts.

Once settled in the elevator, Bucky looks up, "Hey, Friday, can you take us to Tony, please?" After confirmation from the resident AI, he sets your feet on the ground from the bridal carry he's holding you in but keeping you close to him. "So you need one word? What is your plan?"

Keeping your arms in their place around his neck, you lean your head against his secure warmth. "I don't really know, Buck. I kinda got stuck on the first step. If it was an analytical or critical styled piece, it would be a breeze, but it is supposed to be a descriptive essay. I don't know what to do with that. If it was a song, I'd be cuddled with you and my ukelele by now, putting finishing touches on the finished product. But no, there isn't any room for incomplete sentences. Maybe I'll make it a song just to spite the evil bat."

"Hey, dollface, it's okay, I'm here to help you. Does it just have to be one word, or can it be structured for each person you know to have a different word? Remember what Peter said that one time he was working with you on Formatting? Your thesis could be something like 'I am many things to many different people and therefore have many different words that can be used to describe me. These things are A, B, C, and D. Then, you can use each term for a paragraph of fluff."

Taking a deep breath, your lip twitches somewhere between a smile and a deep frown. "That does sound like a good idea. I don't really want to track down everyone, though. Can we get everyone into the same room and ask them as a group? It would be less hassle, and maybe we can decide on reasoning and stories to use to explain why? I really don't know how to do this without being really pessimistic and cynical about the whole thing."

"Mr. Stark is in his lab, he is recommended that he is brought down to the commons, where I will page everyone else." Came Friday's disembodied voice.

"Thank you, Friday," you whispered. You weren't really sure that you were ready for this, but you know that this is the best way to finish this essay without spiraling into your self-pity again. It has to get done. Procrastination is not an option. After all, these are your friends. They don't have to know that you were bawling your eyes out about this stupid assignment.

Taking another steadying breath, you wipe the remainder of your tears off your make-up-less face onto Bucky's soft T-shirt, before turning out of his embrace to march confidently into Tony's Lab. "Hey Tones, your presence is required in the Commons." You call as you walk in the door. Knowing that Friday would've warned you if Tony had been in the middle of something delicate.

"What is it for? I want to get this sequence reconfigured. Can it wait?" Tony said, his full attention on a large display of Smalltalk equational programming floating off of his Holotable.

"Nope, if you don't come now, you don't get to participate, let Friday do the reconfiguration code. It will be done by the time you get back. If you come and keep your attitude to a minimum, I'll let you use me as a scapegoat for your next prank." You try to bribe when he looked offended that I'd suggest such a thing.

"Any prank? Even if it's against loverboy?" Tony perked, throwing a truly roguish smirk over your shoulder.

"As long as no one is injured or harmed. But to make sure that I can cover your ass, you need to fill me in on the joke BEFORE you pull it." You say herding him away from the endless rows of code while he is occupied with his next plot.

When you finally make it to the Commons, The rest of the Avengers are gathered on the couches. All seemed to be in a decent enough mood. Taking a deep breath, you look to Bucky for direction on how to implement this plan of his.

He gives your hand a squeeze as he guides you to the middle of the sectional. Holding you from behind, he clears his throat. "Hey, guys. Thanks for coming to this impromptu meeting. I know you guys were probably doing nothing, anyway, but I appreciate you coming down here. Doll, here, needs some help from us. Well, you guys, since apparently, I am biased." His tone is light as he brings attention to us.

You can't help but feel that knot of uncertainty come back as he speaks, though. You try your best to hide the shaking of your hands by holding onto Bucky's forarms that rest tightly around your middle, grounding you into the moment. Please just let this be quick.

"You are biased," you grumble. "You have to say the best things because you are my boyfriend. It makes for a skewed view on what my friends think of me."

"She does have a point, Buck. You tend to have neverending heart-eyes whenever anything is about her. Though that is reasonable, seeing as she is your girl. I'd be more concerned if you didn't have a shade or two of rose to your glasses." Steve said from his station in on the nearest end of the couch to the door.

"If his glasses are tinted any pinker, they won't be able to be seen through." Scoffed Sam from the other end of the couch.

"Doesn't matter," Bucky cut in before there could be any more railroading. "Y/N has an essay that she has to write but couldn't find the right inspiration for the prompt. Seeing as it pertains to our views on her, I felt it necessary to bring our expertise into the mix."

"Oh, What's the prompt?" Bruce asked from the corner of the window seat.

"It's stupid, It's an essay on the word that your friends and family would use to describe you. Well, in this case, describe me." You say to the oak coffee table that separated the majority of them from you and Bucky.

"Doll, stop hating, and just accept the help." He whispered into your

"Well, you've definitely come to the right place. Come on, guys, what words describe Y/N?" Tony said enthusiastically, rubbing his hands together from the place he found next to Natasha.

"Friday, can you make a list on the monitor, so we don't forget any?" Steve asked the AI helpfully.

"Good idea, I'll start with eccentric," Nat stated.

"Bubbly."

"Funny."

"Smart."

"Out-going."

"Playful."

"Creative."

"Hardworking."

"resourceful, Multi-talented, Impressive."

"Badass."

"Stubborn."

Words just kept coming at incredible speed before there was a ding at the elevator. "Mrs. (Y/L/N), The package you ordered last night needs to be signed for if you wouldn't mind." Friday cut in.

As more words were being piled onto the TV screen, you turned toward the elevator. "It's here already??" you asked, making your way to the waiting delivery man. I quickly signed for the package before coming back to the group. Ripping into the box without care as Tony and Clint argued over positive and negative words on the list.

Letting out an excited squeal while you pulled the long, sky-blue cape out of the box and swishing it over your shoulders, clasping it easily, and spinning in a circle to make it swish out. It was just as you imagined. Silky, soft, and absolutely perfect for everything. When you finally came back to the conversation you found yourself at the center of attention, everyone's eyes were on you in different mixes of amusement and exasperation.

"Where you going, Miss Bennet?" Tony laughed out.

"What do you mean, where am I going? This is my house cape. Don't you have one? It's the latest fashion." You bite back, raising your head in indignation. "I love it, I am going to wear it. EVERYWHERE."

As everyone's faces split into the biggest smiles, Peter walked into the room, tossing his backpack onto the floor as he took a seat between Sam and Steve.

"No Capes!" He said, lovingly referencing the Incredibles. Sending a ripple of laughs through the group of superheroes. "So what has you so Extra today, Y/N?"

"Nothing, I just saw this for sale while I was doing research for my recital dress and thought it would be nice." You respond fondly, feeling invincible in the cape.

"THAT'S IT! YOUR WORD IS EXTRA!" Clint said, springing from his perch. Everyone looked contemplative for a moment before nodding.

"Agreed. It's perfect. You give extra in everything you do." Steve said, not really getting the modern connotation.

Even though it isn't any of the words that you thought they would choose, you can't really complain. Especially when it gives you the privilege of wearing your Couture Cape around the tower, just because you want to.

Smiling at Bucky, you raised slightly on your toes to kiss his cheek, whispering a thank you. And with that, you whooshed off to write the worst essay in your academic career. Leaving the bickering and astounded Avengers in your wake.

#reader insert #bucky x reader #bucky x y/n #bucky barns x reader #student reader #sorry not even remotely sorry #fins reads #fins' fic recs #fins' recs #fins recs fics #fanfiction #fic reblog

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365days365movies · 4 years ago

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February 23, 2021: His Girl Friday (Part 2)

Gotta say, I’m loving this movie...but FUCK Walter, holy...

I, uh...I was going to look up a GIF of Walter from Sleepless in Seattle to bring up a point...but then I found this GIF of a gerenuk eating popcorn, and I HAD to use it Because, I mean...look at that shit. That shit’s gold. Also helps that I love gerenuks.

And yet these are the only two GIFs of gerenuks on here? C’mon guys, get on this. They have the longest neck of any antelope species, they’re like stretchy impala, man! AM I ALONE ON THIS? HAVE YOU SEEN THEM EATING???

...Wait...OH RIGHT MOVIE. Sorry...I like gerenuks. ON WITH THE RECAP (Part 1 right here)!

Recap (2/2)

After escorting Mollie out of the room and scolding the men for their conduct, Hildy gets a call notifying her that Bruce was arrested for stealing a watch. Uh oh; looks like we know what Walter told the short guy to do. GODDAMN, WALTER IS A DICK. I get why Hildy divorced him.

Hildy goes down to the jail and convinces the jailer to release Bruce. As they head home in a car, Bruce realizes that his wallet has been stolen, as well as other things from his pockets. Yeah, wow, so Walter’s an absolute asshole...and I’m starting to wonder whether or not Hildy and him are getting back together after all. GODDAMN, I hope not. Because he literally had a dude steal all of Bruce’s shit, JUST to keep Hildy there. Absolute asshole.

Meanwhile, the journalists read Hildy’s article, noting how good it is. And it is good, but it also obviously feels pretty goddamn manipulative, which is accurate. Again, I get why Hildy wants to leave the profession. Hildy returns as the put odds on how long her marriage will last, and calls Walter on the phone.

She says the following to him:

Now, get this, you double-crossing chimpanzee: There ain't going to be any interview and there ain't going to be any story. And that certified check of yours is leaving with me in twenty minutes. I wouldn't cover the burning of Rome for you if they were just lighting it up. If I ever lay my two eyes on you again, I'm gonna walk right up to you and hammer on that monkeyed skull of yours 'til it rings like a Chinese gong!

...HOLY SHIT. That was fucking GLORIOUS. She hangs up and storms out, understandably enraged, and bids her farewell to the newspaper business. Meanwhile, Earl’s being interviewed by a psychiatrist in a prison across the street. He’s tired, but they still have more questions for him, despite the fact that he’s being executed the following morning. He once again states that he’s innocent.

Hildy says a finally poetic farewell to her fellow journalists, and then BANGBANGBANGBANGBANGBANG!!! From across the streets, gunshots ring out and an alarm bell goes off! It’s a jailbreak, and Earl Williams has escaped! With some quick edits, the boys make their calls, and Hildy calls Walter, letting him know that she’s on the job! JUST WHEN YOU THINK YOU’RE OUT

As the journalists (and Hildy) are in pursuit, we quickly learn what’s going on through the reporters on the phone, as well as through a call from Hildy to Walter. She demands more money from him, as she had to spend Walter’s money to bribe the info out of a cop. In exchange, she gives him the scoop.

The doctor was getting Earl to re-enact the incident, but to do that, they needed a gun. So Sherriff Peter B. Hartwell (Gene Lockhart), a bumbling idiot of a sheriff who’s been appearing sparsely throughout the film, gave him the gun. Earl took the gun, and Earl SHOT the gun at the doctor, who will survive.

With that, Hildy’s about to get off the phone and leave in a cab with Bruce. In response to that, Walter sends a woman, Evangeline (Marion Martin) to “handle” Bruce, and I assume he’s getting her to seduce him. HE. IS. A. DICK. He also sends the short guy with the hat, Diamond Louie Paluso (Abner Biberman) over to give Hildy the money in counterfeit bills. GOD I FUCKIN’ HATE WALTER

Bruce calls Hildy once again as she’s about to leave. He’s been arrested. AGAIN. Evangeline’s in the background, and he explains that he’s been arrested for “mashing”. What’s mashing? Well, according to the post-gazette, it’s public sexual harassment. Apparently, in Omaha, you could be charged $5 for calling a woman a “chicken”, $10 for “honey-bunch”, $15 for “turtle-dove”, and $20 for “baby doll”. I mean...bring that back? I genuinely want somebody to go on Judge Judy to contest a $50 fine for catcalling someone on the street, BRING THIS SHIT BACK

Unfortunately, Hildy doesn’t have money to bail Bruce out this time, and needs to get it from Louie first. She leaves, and the Mayor (Clarence Kolb) arrives with the sheriff to talk with the journalists. The journalists basically tell each of them that they’re idiots, and leaves them behind. And as the two talk to each other, another man, Joe Pettibone (Billy Gilbert) comes in with a reprieve for Earl from the governor.

However, nobody else knows about this, and the sheriff’s men find Earl at that moment. They decide to go through with it, and tell Pettibone to claim that he got last as they tell the Sheriff’s men to shoot to kill.

Diamond Joe shows up with the counterfeit money, and Hildy tries to get him to confess his crimes to the cops. He leaves in a rush, leaving Hildy alone...until Earl shows up with a gun. And he’s NOT happy. He holds her at gunpoint, telling her not to try anything. All he wants is to be left alone.

Hildy manages to get ahold of the gun, and Earl gives up without any struggle. Hildy calls both Bruce and Walter to tell them the news, and that’s when Mollie shows up unexpectedly. She genuinely does seem to care for him, and Hildy ends up letting her in. And JUST THEN, some of the other journalists come in Hildy hides Earl in a desk, and Mollie fakes a fainting fit.

And THEN, just as Hildy’s trying to hide Earl from the curious journalists, Bruce’s mother Mrs. Baldwin (Alma Kruger) shows up, angry at Hildy for giving Bruce the run-around, and more than happy to have their engagement called off. However, she also reveals that Hildy told Bruce at Earl was there, riling up the reporters, and ollie distracts them by telling them she knows his whereabouts, then JUMPS OUT OF THE FUCKING WINDOW, but she LIVES, and then WALTER shows up, and

...Ow. OW. OK, where was I?

Right, Walter uses Louie to get Mrs. Baldwin out of there, while Earl is still in the desk. Hildy tries to go save both Mrs. Baldwain and Bruce, only for Walter, ASSHOLE that he is, schmoozes Hildy into going along with him, rather than taking care of Bruce. Goddamn it, Hildy.

Walter calls the paper to tell them to scrap the front page for the story that the newspaper has caught Earl Williams, which is technically true. Bruce shows up, having been bailed out, and is understandably frustrated. Fact of the matter is, Hildy’s kind of all but abandoned him for the story, and he wants to know if she ever ACTUALLY loved him. And honestly...this is NOT how I saw this going down.

He leaves, telling Hildy that he’s going off on the 9:00 train. However, Hildy, now completely lost in the story, doesn’t really hear anything Bruce is saying, and it’s weirdly tragic to me. And when Hildy asks where Bruce went, Walter says that he’ll be back. I...FUCKINHATEWALTER.

Hildy realizes this too late, of course, and that’s when Louie arrives, fresh out of a car accident, in which he and Mrs. Baldwin was involved. There’s a possibility that she’s died, putting YET ANOTHER thing on Walter’s shoulders. He’s genuinely a piece of shit, by God.

And as Hildy’s going to try and find Mrs. Baldwin, THAT is when the sheriff and the other journalists show up, all suspecting that Hildy knows where Earl is. Ever the disgusting shyster, he tries to con the men to carry the desk with Earl in it out f the building, which is something he’d been trying to do to keep the scoop in his grimy hands.

AND THEN, MRS. BALDWIN SHOWS UP. She accuses Walter, rightfully, as having her kidnapped, and he tries to con his way out of the situation once more, while Hildy’s trying to make amends all the while. Cornered and accused, he bangs on Earl’s desk three times to emphasize his point. And, uh...then Earl bangs back.

Jig’s up.

The capture leads to all of the journalists calling the main office, making stories about the capture all the way. They leave, and the mayor and sheriff remain with Hildy and Walter, and the two look finished.

AND THEN THE MESSENGER FROM BEFORE SHOWS UP WITH THE REPRIEVE. See, they told him to “come back later”. Well, it’s later, and he delivers the reprieve RIGHT in front of Hildy and Walter. Learning that Williams was reprieved, and that the Mayor and sheriff knew this and are STILL hanging him (with the Sheriff even about to kill him earlier in front of everyone)...well, it seems we have a predicament, is what I’m saying.

And after that, the two basically mutually blackmail each other, and the Mayor and sheriff leave. And with that, Hildy notes that they were lucky to get out of that scrape. And after all of this, AFTER FUCKING EVERYTHING...she’s still in love with Walter, isn’t she? Which is funny, because Walter reminds her of Bruce, and tells her that he’s the one who wired the bail money to him.

He says that he’s trying to do something noble for once (bullSHIT), and tries to get her out of there before he changes his mind. But Hildy calls him out on his manipulative bullshit, which he denies (BULLLLLLLSHIT). He tries again to push her away, and she resists it, saying the story needs to be finished. But still, he pushes her away, and bids her goodbye with a kiss.

AND THEN HILDY GETS A CALL FROM BRUCE

Jesus. He’s been arrested again, this time for passing the counterfeit money that he got from Hildy got from Joe got from Walter in the GODDAMN FIRST PLACE. And it’s at this point, after promising to take care of it, that Hildy breaks down. Because, GODDAMN APPARENTLY, she NEVER wants Walter to let her go without a fight, and is ACTUALLY REVEALED TO LEARN HOW MUCH OF A DICK HE’S BEEN.

And they decide to remarry. And he tells Hildy to carry her own suitcase. And this is NOT A HAPPY GODDAMN ENDING. JESUS CHRIST.

And yet, AND YET...this movie is fucking fantastic. I mean, FUCK WALTER, and Hildy’s gonna have a TERRIBLE time with him, but GODDAMN do I like this movie! More in the Review! See you there!

#his girl friday #howard hawks #cary grant #rosalind russell #ralph bellamy #gene lockhart #walter burns #hily johnson #romance february #romance film #screwball comedy #user365 #365 movie challenge #365 movies 365 days #365 Days 365 Movies #365 movies a year #motionpicturesource #classicfilmsource

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loquaciousquark · 5 years ago

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hey! love your writing and hearing about your process. you have mentioned that you need to write out a full fic first, rather than writing and posting chapter by chapter. what is your process for editing those longfics? i finished the first draft of my first longfic and the idea of editing it seems incredibly overwhelming. do you have any recommendations?

thank you kindly, anon! this is a difficult question to answer because I have no actual writing...training, I guess, is the word? I was a biomedical sciences major and I have never taken a creative writing class in my life, so I haven’t the foggiest idea if what I do breaks every Prime Tenet of Proper Writing ever, so take everything here with a grain of salt.

Because the thing is: I hate editing. HATE it, loathe it with every atom and sinew of my body. It is by far my least favorite part of the writing process, and because of that I go to great lengths to avoid it as much as humanly possible.

I’ve talked before about how I outline, I think, but basically, I outline all my long pieces heavily to get as much right on the first pass as I can so that I can not have to do major edits. Drafts, likewise, don’t really exist for me; 95% of what I write on the first pass gets published in that form with only minor changes. I strongly suspect this is an artifact of me being an architect rather than a gardener in my writing; I can’t remember the last time I scrapped a whole scene (or even a major part of a scene) because of how heavily I outline first and how strict I am with myself in sticking to that outline. Probably the vampire AU, honestly, because of Jade--but more on that later.

Here’s an example of what some of my outlining looks like:

Like, sometimes I’ll do proper numerals and such, but more often than not it’s just paragraph descriptions of the major things that should happen in each chapter, and if there’s some phrase or idea that I really want to use, I’ll just jot down a few specific phrases right there in the document.

This does a few things for me, but the biggest is that it gives me a solid bird’s-eye view of the thing I’m trying to write. If I don’t know them already, what are the themes I want to emphasize? What are the plot threads that run throughout? If I have “introduce Gilchrist the evil baker” in chapter one, this helps give me the reminders to make sure Gilchrist has appropriate follow-through in each subsequent chapter and isn’t completely forgotten by the side-plot I accidentally brought up in chapter three and loved way more than Gilchrist’s unleavened muffins.

And this is not to say that I build the entire lattice out of iron from the start so that there’s no room to grow. Even in this fic I’ve just finished, I was telling @eponymous-rose as I was working on the epilogue (which I hadn’t intended to have) that I wasn’t sure what it was going to be about, but that I could feel it was needed; and it wasn’t until I was writing the epilogue’s last few lines that I realized both why it was important regarding the overall themes of the fic as well as regarding the characters’ individual narratives, even though I hadn’t planned for it in the outline.

This process is also why I tend to write the whole fic before ever posting a single word. If I realize in chapter nine that I completely forgot Gilchrist the baker existed until I made an inadvertent reference to a crooked croissant, there’s not a darned thing I can do about it if chapters one through eight are already posted. And because I also have major personal hangups about making public mistakes, I would much prefer to write in private, fix my boo-boos before anyone else sees them, and THEN post, rather than getting a half-dozen comments wondering if this was all a secret patisserie plot all along.

The other thing I’ll add here is how important my betas are to me and how I write. I am by nature an incredibly impatient person--I’m the one shopping at 8:30pm at Hobby Lobby and then working on a spraypaint project in the backyard at midnight by phone flashlight because I refuse to wait until the next day--so this has always been a little hard for me. However, being able to give the whole fic at once to a beta and say here, this is it, and letting them read the whole thing at once--this is so invaluable to me in picking out things I’ve forgotten, scenes that didn’t translate well from my head to my page, or plot points that might be weaker than I first thought and need shoring in multiple places throughout the plot.

@jadesabre301 has been my beta for...years. Middle school? Twenty years, maybe? And by now we know enough of each other’s writing to know where the pitfalls are, how each person needs to be checked. I tend to forget side characters exist when I have a huge cast; Jade is always there to remind me they exist and to bring them back in (see Sebastian’s chapter in Ever Rise for a perfect example; that chapter didn’t exist before she told me to let him be alive again). I tend to overuse certain phrases and metaphors, and I’ll sometimes have characters repeat the same action several times in a scene without realizing (see Invicta, where I had three separate people cross their arms in less than 500 words before she called me on it).

Jade also has a marvelous ability to look at a work’s overall structure and point out which sections are strong and which sections are weak and need a little tweaking before they’re published. (Again, because I hate editing, the bones are usually sound enough that I can make these changes with only a few paragraphs or sentences here and there; and when Jade tells me to cut some line altogether I rarely save it, because if it didn’t make her cut here I know it’s not worth the saving anywhere.)

Example!

And because she also knows me very well, she is also very kind to point out the things she likes throughout her edits, which is just as invaluable a skill in an editor and I hope she realizes how important it has been to me over the years.

And because this is quickly getting much longer than I’d ever intended, I will close with the last thing that has helped me with my own editing when I’m (alas) forced to do it: I know what my problems are, if that makes sense. Not just the structural issues above, but repeating phrases and words to the point of distraction, hammering metaphors into the ground when a lighter touch would do them better service, and significantly overusing emdashes & semicolons. (Based on @eponymous-rose‘s beta/grammar check of this most recent fic, 43 of 350 or so emdashes died, and more will again when I get a chance to look over it once more.)

So when I’ve gone through it enough that I’m happy with the characterization and the plot threads and themes, as set out by the original outline I spent too much time on, then I go through and do one or two passes on word choice. To be quite honest, I do a Find search through the document for words I know I overused, then look at each usage and make sure they’re not too close to each other. Example--I did a search for “hard” on this last fic, and found I’d used it four times in the same paragraph. All in different ways--his eyes were hard, his grip hardened, he had a hard set to his shoulders, etc--but too much! So knowing the words (and issues in general) I tend towards and looking through to excise some of them specifically helps a lot in the editing I am willing to do.

SO!

To summarize: how do I edit my longfic? As little as possible!

heavy outlining prior to writing to make sure I have themes and plot threads properly established and mapped out throughout the piece

sticking closely to my outline throughout the writing process

sending only completed fics to beta so that they can read the whole thing at once and more easily pick out flaws in structure, theme, or character progression

ctrl-f words/phrases I know I most frequently overuse to cut the unnecessary ones (I’ll sometimes run the fic through something like this site to check phrase frequency for anything that might have slipped through)

and when all else fails, I set the whole thing aside for a week (again, I am impatient--longer would probably be better) and then come back and try to read it with fresh eyes

I hope this has at least been moderately helpful? Again, I’d like to emphasize that I have no idea what I’m doing, and this is hardly foolproof, but it’s worked for me so far, and hopefully at least a small part of it will be helpful to you. Thank you for asking!

#writing: other #quark replies #long post for ts #anonymous #someone tell me if i should cut this!#nm i'm just gonna cut it #how did this get so long

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gerryconway · 6 years ago

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Burton's Revenge.

After a miserable time at the movies last night, I've come to the conclusion that Tim Burton's grim and joyless "Dumbo" is an auteur triumph.

SPOILERS AHEAD. (Though for this movie, "spoiler" is descriptive as well as a warning label.)

I don't recommend "Dumbo," but I admire it. Burton has accomplished something almost startling with this film: he's made a movie that is about as unsubtle a "f**k you" to both his corporate sponsors and the audience as one could get without actually superimposing "F*CK YOU!" on every frame. Contempt for Disney and for the audience that gobble up the company's live action remakes of classic animated films oozes from every shot, every scene, and in particular, from the entire second half of the movie. If some films are a love letter, this is hate mail. Tim Burton clearly hates how Disney is exploiting the animated films he cherished as a child, and "Dumbo" is his bitter revenge.

Why am I sure "Dumbo" is the angry vision of a furious auteur and not a well-meaning misfire? Because I respect Tim Burton as a filmmaker too much to believe this movie isn't exactly what he wanted it to be.

Burton has been making films for thirty-five years, and though the films he's made lately haven't been quite as quirky and strange as his earlier movies, they still display the control of a man who knows what he wants to achieve, and how to achieve it. You might not like where he goes, but he knows how to get you there. So, "Dumbo," with all of the issues I'll mention below, is exactly the movie Burton wanted it to be.

The question is, why? Why would Burton want to make a movie so driven by rage against audience and corporate sponsors both?

And why "Dumbo"?

If you've seen Burton's interview with Ray Harryhausen, available on some of the Blu-ray reissues of Harryhausen's films, you're reminded of how much of Burton's vision of filmmaking is informed by his still-childlike appreciation for simple wonder. As he sits with Harryhausen and plays with the saucer models from "Earth vs the Flying Saucers," Burton looks and sounds like a five year old kid gawping in awe at a shopping mall Santa Claus. He still loves the things he loved as a child, and he becomes a child again in their presence. His joy is sincere.

The man who felt joy and wonder in the presence of Ray Harryhausen could never have produced the grim, joyless, misery-soaked downer that is "Dumbo" unless he was trying to say something about the destruction of his own childhood sense of joy and wonder.

I think "Dumbo," in its not-so-thinly veiled critique of the cruelty of corporate exploitation of children and nostalgia, is Burton's attempt to tear down the structure he helped to build.

It was Burton's own remake of "Alice in Wonderland" that set the current live-action remake frenzy in motion, remember. Whatever you may think of that movie (I like it for its weird and subversive charm), there's no question it was enormously successful and clearly inspired the corporate minds at Disney to authorize a wholesale ransacking of Disney animated classics as fodder for subsequent live-action redos.

As a loving fan of those original classics, I think Burton must have been horrified by what he'd unleashed. He couldn't have felt otherwise. Again, look at his interview with Harryhausen. The kid in him cherishes joy and wonder. Whatever virtues the Disney live-action remakes have, with the exception, I'd say, of Burton's own "Alice," joy and wonder aren't an apparent high priority for the filmmakers involved. If anything, most of the remakes are drained of wonder by the translation from the imagined to the tangible.

Which brings us to "Dumbo."

The original "Dumbo" is a slight, one-hour fairy tale, centered entirely on a baby elephant with big ears who can fly, and cast almost completely with talking and singing animals. With the exception of a thoughtless racist element, it is a film of charming childlike innocence with a simple message about the strength of mother and child love and the power we gain when we let go of emotional crutches. ("I need a feather to fly.")

This is not a movie that demands a live-action remake, or even, in its story elements, supports the possibility of one.

And, in fact, Burton's "Dumbo" isn't a live-action remake-- it's an angry, passionate argument *against* such a remake. The baby flying elephant is a MacGuffin in Burton's "Dumbo"--not the emotional core of the story. There are no talking or singing animals, no other fantasy elements, not even a hint of fairy tale atmosphere. From a character point of view, I'd argue, there is no emotional core: none of the "live" characters in Dumbo have any emotional resonance at all. They are all bleak and joyless and broken, emotionally dead, barely responsive to the world and the story supposedly taking place around them. One of them, a little boy, has no character existence at all-- I'm not sure he's even named, and he could be removed completely from the film without any discernable impact. For a filmmaker with Burton's skill set such a failure to develop even marginally interesting characters with a vital stake in the story is inexplicable-- unless it was intentional.

I think it was intentional.

I think "Dumbo" is an act of auteur subversion, one of the most breathtaking acts of creative defiance since "Citizen Kane," though certainly far less successful as a piece of entertainment. In fact that may well be the movie's most defining artistic characteristic-- its complete unwillingness to entertain.

It really is a remarkable achievement. To trick Disney into financing and releasing a major motion picture which savages everything about the company's approach to its classic films, and, in addition, to its entire corporate raison d'etre, is a stunning accomplishment. What a trick. I imagine the script reads very different from what Burton shot-- it's possible to describe something one way, shoot it another, and edit it all together to produce the opposite effect from what the screenplay suggests. Because there's so much CGI involved, Disney executives probably never realized what Burton was doing until final cut. And that, in itself, is part of Burton's savage attack on Disney's corporate methodology. The further film executives get from true hands-on creative involvement in the films they make-- through increasing dependency on CGI and post-production manipulation-- the less they really know about the movies they're making. The very power to ham-handedly rework a mediocre director's work in post allows a master director to hide his intentions until it's too late to reverse them. By the time Disney executives possibly realized what Burton was up to, if they ever did, they'd sunk too much money and time into his version of the film-- and had no choice but to either scrap the movie entirely or release it as it is. Given the exigencies of corporate finance, and the apparent belief on the part of Disney executives that the appetite for live-action versions of beloved animated classics is insatiable, releasing Burton's hate mail movie was ultimately the only logical thing to do.

In the end, "Dumbo" isn't a good movie. It probably was not intended to be. It's Tim Burton's angry rant against making movies like itself. It's a slap in the face to the people who financed it and the audience who shows up for it. As a work of protest it's kind of admirable. As a film-going experience, as I stated above, it's a miserable two hours.

You've been warned. At least now, if you see it, you can "enjoy" the movie for what it is-- a scream of contempt, an artist setting fire to the gallery displaying his work. Personally, now that I've defined it... I think I like it.

YMMV.

#dumbo 2019 #Dumbo

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teroknope · 7 years ago

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Can you do a oneshot with Kylo‘s son in training with Kylo Ren and is becoming exhausted/ frustrated with not being able to amount to his father, so he throws a temper tantrum (like Ren often does) and Kylo tries to calm him down and tell him it’s alright? That would be wonderful if you could do that please :) thank you

A/N: I have combined this with two other anons who asked for more Dad! Ren. It’s ended up being really long LOL. I wrote some of it while on my lunch break at work! Thank you for asking as well, I really appreciate it. I hope you had a nice Christmas (•ө•)♡. Also, I did not want to put in a specific name for Kylo’s son so it is Y/S/N (You can change it with that funky app I mentioned in the last ask!)

Edit: I completely forgot to post a link to the weapon Kylo’s son is using, which is this!

W.C - 2K

He remembers the first time he saw his father fight, he was a child, no older than five. He admired the pure strength with which he obliterated the droids. The second thing he remembers is the first time he saw Ren use his lightsaber. Y/S/N had always seen the saber on his father’s belt, but never the blade itself. He never imagined it would be so bright. All this impressed him immensely. He saw his father in a new perspective, one which he came to admire.

Y/S/N had finished his schooling for the day and was frantically bored, he had been home for less than one hour when he began to ask question after question. You didn’t really mind as he was a curious child. He then asked something he never had before.

“Mom, I miss dad, can we go see what he is doing?” he warmly smiled at you.

You paused and glanced at your son, you knew your husband was training this late afternoon. In fact, he had been busy the past few weeks. You took your subspace transceiver and contacted Kylo, he was only a few floors down but it was easier to take your son there and be turned away

Ren was training immensely; today was more physical than mental. He was sweating from head to toe, his arms and legs gently throbbing. The focus and silence of the room were disturbed by a nervous first order officer walking in, looking like had gotten the short straw.

“Commander Ren, Lady Ren wishes to contact you” A First-Order officer informed Ren, he took the transceiver out of the officer’s hand. You appeared in the palm of his hand in the dim blue hologram.

“What is it?” Ren asked, although short of breath.

“Y/S/N Want’s to watch you train, may we come down to you?” You asked hopefully.

Kylo pondered for a short moment “Yes… come down whenever you are ready.”

You looked at your son and smiled, Ren heard him excitingly yell in the background, it made him smile gently. He was thankful his officer could not see his smile through his mask.

Half an hour later you brought him the training room, the room was separated into two parts. The entrance was small, a big thick layer of glass acted as a barrier between them and the room. It was a place ideally build to train Stormtroopers, Ren made sure modifications were made to suit his training. The room was just about large enough to swing a lightsaber around, but not much more than that.

“Lady Ren,” The First Order officer greeted you, you smiled at them. Your son ran ahead of you, standing close to the glass. All he saw was darkness, and then the powerful erratic glow of his lightsaber appeared. Y/S/N watched as Ren held it next to him, the red light reflecting off his face. Needless to say, Ren obliterated the droids.

This was the first time seeing him as a warrior. He admired the strength and swiftness in which he swung the lightsaber; it was like it was air.

Kylo obliterated the droids in mere minutes, the training session ended and lights returned to the room. The scattered remains of scrap metal spread across the floor.

“Clean this up,” Ren sturdily ordered the troopers as he placed his lightsaber back into his belt. He did not need his vision to sense that his son was watching him, although he could not make out his expression. He felt a slight twinge of fear; this was the first time your son had seen him in this environment.

Kylo entered the observer room, the whirls and clicks of his mask echoing through the room as he removed his mask. He held it in his gloved hand.

“It has been a while since I saw you train,” You remarked, he looked good all worked up.

“Dad!” Y/S/N excitedly yelled, running to Kylo and hugged his legs tightly. He noticed one of the officers smirking slightly, Kylo had grown accustomed to his son being with him and other First Order officers, but it did not stop them talking. Kylo glared at the man menacingly. You observed that the officer’s lips turned expressionless…and slightly blue?

His son pulled away from Kylo, still gripping onto his clothes. “That was so cool! The way you swung your saber and that moment where used your hand to slam the droid against the wall!” He spoke rapidly, not taking a second to breathe.

Kylo bent down and picked his son up, balancing him in the crook of this arm. He handed him his helmet, although it was a bit heavy for his small arms, he did not admit it.

You were admiring the moment of Kylo holding your son, he did not hold any fear in his eyes; just admiration.

You happy moment was disturbed by A First Order officer arriving in the room “Lady Ren, General Hux requires your assistance”.

You signed, inwardly, of course; Kylo could sense your annoyance “Regarding what matter?”

“The reports regarding the Tie-Fighter weapon schematics”

You nodded at the officer “I will be there shortly”.

Kylo watched you leave the room, he held his son in his arms. He took the helmet from him and held it in his hand. Y/S/N rested his head on his shoulder.

Kylo began walking towards the elevator which leads to your room with Y/S/N still in his arms, passing numerous officers and troopers along the way.

He entered the elevator that leads to there home; It moved slowly. The lights were dim, Y/S/N nuzzled into Kylo’s shoulder. Finding comfort in the safety of his arms. He could tell he was tired. Kylo wrapped his other arm around his son, bringing him into a tight hug. His son softly spoke before to him.

“I want to be as strong as you someday”

Y/S/N wished that moment would have lasted forever, how gentle his father was with him, despite the brute strength he had witness moments before. As always, things could not stay the same. As he himself began to physically change and age, so did his training in the force.

He still remembers how his father made it seems so easy all them years ago, and yet here he was struggling to put a first order blade through a droid. General Hux and Ren were observing him a distance, ironic how the roles were reversed.

He was in the same spot his father was, surrounded by droids, although feeling more like a fool than a brave warrior. His black hair was filled with sweat, his cheeks red and his skin dry. He had defeated around four waves, he had forgotten how many but it felt like more than four. He had a short moment to rest, but it did not last long,

The new droids began their malicious assault, stepping over the scrap pieces of other droids that surrounded the floor. He took his weapon, which for today was a Z6 riot control baton, he sighed when he received it off General Hux, who had a slimy smile.

He wished he had a saber light his father, but I suppose this would have to do.

He retaliated with all of his strength but he took a pause for a moment, which was his downfall. Within less than a second the one remaining droid grabbed his arm and twisted it behind his back, he howled. His hand relaxed and his weapon fell to the floor with a cold thud. Y/S/N groaned, he felt the droid let go of his arm. He mistakenly relaxed, again.

The droid harshly kicked the back of his right knee and threw him onto the cold floor with ease. His cheekbone bouncing off the metal slabs. He felt the metal knee of the droid bearing down into his back, the cold hand clutching his head pushing it further against the ground.

“Enough” Ren’s voice resonated through the speaker.

The droid ceased fighting and returned to its post. Y/S/N remained on the cold ground for a few seconds, enjoying the relaxation of his back and arm. He begrudgingly sat on his knees; turning his aching neck to face the room which Hux and his father were in. Not Good he thought as he saw Hux beginning to converse with ren.

“Not what you expected commander?” Hux smirked, “Your son has been training for other a year now, I would have imagined some improvement if he is to be of use to The First Order then-“

“That’s enough General, I won’t delve into matters you fail to understand” Kylo interrupted him. Like General Hux would understand the severity of training in the ways of the force.

Y/S/N groaned, rolled over and stood up. The training seemed endless, day in and day out. He wasn’t sure what was more gruelling, the meditation or the physical strain. His hands were covered in blisters, cuts and bruises, It hurt to bend his fingers.

He wondered when the pain would stop. Kylo never went easy on him, from the start he told Y/S/N that it would be the toughest thing that he had ever done. Kylo never went easy on him, never let him win one for sentimental sake. He had to be tough, resilient and strong.

By the time he had managed to stand up and look at the glass only Hux remained. He wearingly sighed, he stood up, rotated his shoulder muscles and picked up the weapon he had dropped. Even bending down to the floor hurt.

The first sound he heard was the opening of the only door in the room, the next thing he heard was the unsheathing of Kylo’s lightsaber, he felt his heart stop for a short second. He hastily turned in the direction of the familiar noise.

“F-father?” Y/S/N was confused. Ren was pacing towards him at an increasingly fast pace, he began backing away from him, his own father.

“Don’t back away from me Y/S/N,” His voice reverberating through his helmet, “Face me”

Y/S/N unsheathed the Z6. He barely had time to equip it before Ren struck a blow at him; barely missing his left arm.

He fought back but every strike of Ren’s saber pushed his arms back, every strike he went was too heavy and Kylo was too swift. Dancing around Y/S/N like it was nothing.

“Fight back, Y/S/N” his voice was emotionless like he was not fighting his son.

Ren lifted the blade to strike from above but Y/S/N pulled up the baton and used it to defend himself. He struggled immensely, his arms suddenly feeling like lead, this feeling shifted into his entire being as Ren used the force to propel his son forcefully forward. He bounced off the floor to then uncontrollably roll across it.

He groaned loudly as he began to stand up, he ached everywhere, Kylo twirled his saber in his hand. The noise bleeding through Y/S/N ear’s

“Focus! Y/S/N!”

He became furious, of course, he was focusing what else had he been doing the past year, no since his earliest memories of his father teaching him the ways of the force.

“I can feel your frustration,” Kylo commented “use it”

He ignored the pleas of his body, he bellowed roughly; forcefully attempted attack Ren, and he let him get close to him. He used all his strength to swing the Z6 at his father. Kylo, in one swift move, scraped the saber across the floor; the sparks of heat falling onto Y/S/N body. He could feel the short burns of the small sparks on his face.

“I’ll never be as strong as you, ever since that day I first saw you train, I always wanted to be your equal” He ran his arm across his face, wiping away the small specks of blood from the sparks.

“But I am nowhere close… all this training for nothing!” he roared at Kylo.

He gripped the Z6 with great force and dragged it across the clean walls of the training room, scraping off the white tiles; leaving black residue as a replacement.

Kylo waited. His son stopped for just a moment, breathing loudly. Kylo began to approach him but he saw his son move sharply, his eyes peering into the room behind the glass, the room where he watched his father all them years ago. But what he saw now was Hux smirking, whispering to a First Order officer.

“I’d say he is just like commander Ren in his childish temperament…wouldn’t you ag-“. Y/S/N gritted his teeth in anger, he may be frustrated at his father in this moment but he detested any words from Hux’s mouth, especially when they were distasteful.

With brute force swung the Z6 was flung into the glass, although not smashing it. The First Order officers took a few steps back and Hux took, even more, his eyes panicky watched as the crack spread throughout the glass. Then Y/S/N lifted up his bloody hand, he tensed his fingers to turn the large cracks into small shards of glass. He could feel Hux’s fear.

“Y/S/N” Kylo commanded, “That’s enough”. He removed his helmet and placed it on the ground. He could sense his son’s emotions, ones that felt too similar to his own at times. Anger, fear, hate, frustration.

“It’s not enough is it though?” his eyes were bloodshot, dry and beginning to form tears “it’s never enough for you is it!”

Kylo calmly spoke to him “it is enough Y/S/N”

“But you are getting to that point, you managed to hold off my saber for a few seconds.” Kylo complimented his son “That’s far more than what you did a few months ago”.

“It doesn’t matter what I did a few months ago, or even now” His voice wobbling, “I will never be as strong as you!” He roared at Ren, the boundaries between father and son and apprentice and master blurring once again. He did not want to show his father weakness, he had to be strong, as expected.

But to Kylo his son’s weaknesses were as clear as glass; he could see it in his eyes and could sense it in his mind. Time for Y/S/N seemed to pass slowly, thoughts whizzing through his head at a million miles an hour. But then it all came to focus, Kylo had placed his hand onto his shoulder; he noticed in that moment how his son was no longer the little boy that admired him from a distance, he becoming his own person, and with that trying to find his place in the universe. He looked at his eyes, which avoided his contact, they were sore, red and full of fear.

“Y/S/N” he called out, his son looked at him, his mind full of ambivalence.

“If you do not think you are strong you should look at your surroundings, a person who is weak could not do this” Kylo gestured with his hands. The room was devastated, he knew this would have consequences for his father. His mind was suddenly was brought to the present. Kylo could sense his worry.

“Do not worry Y/S/N. You have done well today” he gently spoke to him “I am proud of you”.

What? Y/S/N was in shock. Kylo had never once said that to him throughout his training. Even the disrupting voice of Hux could not get through his thoughts.

“Ren, I will not have you obliterate my ship!” Hux attempted to scream, although his voice had a twinge of fear. He could deal with one force user on his ship, but not two and not two who were very similar in power.

Ren intimidatingly walked over to hux, the glass cracking between his boot.

“You should use choose the words to talk about my son and myself more carefully next time, general.”

Y/S/N felt that same happiness when he saw his father train for the first time, although it was more accurate to describe it as pride.

#kylo ren x reader #hexfalcon #kylo ren imagine #star wars imagine #dad! kylo ren #kylo ren fanfiction #star wars fanficiton #mentions of general hux #theleastwriting #MKWrites

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unnecessaryopinions · 5 years ago

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2019

A friend of mine asked me earlier, “Nasaan na ang year-end essay mo? [Where is your year-end essay?]” She meant it as a joke, of course, as I had been doing it almost every 31st of December but I still hadn’t posted anything. I wasn’t really planning to write it this year, but when I finally decided to do it—

Nothing. I didn’t know what to write. I don’t even know why I kept on writing this, but I might as well finish what I started. I turned to my Memories on Facebook for inspiration.

I first posted something about the new year back in 2013. It was a selfie taken with my very first smartphone, and the caption was a statement of hope and excitement for the next year. To be honest, I don’t feel the same enthusiasm as I did back then. The fear of uncertainty has long been lurking in my head and it’s prevailing now more than ever, so I think I’ll scrap that.

“Two thousand fifteen,” I opened my year-end message that year. “…one of the things that I’ve learned is that we should accept the fact that we can’t really please everybody.” Yeah, I totally learned the concept of not giving a f*ck about what other people would say, but have I learned to apply that concept? I don’t think so—not fully, at least. I ended it by asking those who had read it to tell me anything that they had been wanting to tell me, “may it be positive, negative, or whatsoever”. It was a proud display of my surname, and it was a declaration that I wanted to change the way I feel about confrontations. Maybe I’m not as brave as I thought—I still hate confrontations, so I think I won’t do that, too.

I then scrolled up to 2016, the year when I started to use the expressions “rainbows and butterflies” and “roller coaster rides” on the things that I write. My year-end posts that year were a combination of my posts one and three years prior: asking people to message me something that they had always wanted to tell me and hoping for the next year to be a better one. Well, that was helpful.

I went to Twitter and I saw a tweet that pretty much summarizes my entire year. “[The] first [and] second half of 2019 felt like [two] different years,” they said, and it did feel like that. The first half was surreal. I was in a state of euphoria—thrill and exhilaration flooded my brain like I was skydiving. I thought that nothing could go wrong. Then, fears and doubts poked holes into my parachute, and the experience became a terrifying one. There were no safety nets to prevent me from hitting the ground.

Thud.

That’s how the second half of my 2019 started. Days and nights of pain and tears followed that fall. I always wore a mask to hide the sadness in my eyes. My broken pieces even hurt those who tried to touch them. One day, I decided to collect my shattered parts and to start rebuilding myself, one tiny piece at a time. From there, it has been a long and tiring climb to the next peak. It is still far ahead but I think I can manage. I’m slowly getting there.

I guess I’ll stop hoping for the next year to be a better one. Instead, I’m hoping that I, and anyone reading this, too, will have the strength to overcome the challenges that the year ahead will bring. I admit, I’m still afraid of what could happen in the future, but if we work hard to be a better person, then any year would be better than the last, wouldn’t it? We won’t need any safety nets when we jump from a certain peak anymore because we will have become wiser then.

We can just spread our wings and fly.

Happy new year!

#2019 #new year

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notable-law-music-tech-news · 6 years ago

Text

How to Cook a Turkey in Parts

[Photographs: Liz Clayman]

If you've ever spent any time putting the things you create on the internet, you're sure to have learned that you can never please everyone. This is true of roasting turkeys as well. I've seen people complain about even the most beautiful, perfectly roasted turkey. The skin can be deeply browned and crisp, the white meat juicy, the dark meat cooked through, and yet afterwards someone will inevitably whisper, "That turkey was a little underdone, wasn't it?"

The thing with poultry like turkeys and chickens is that cooking them whole always means at least a minor trade-off. The dark meat is best when well-done, and the white meat is not, and there's really no way to get each to its ideal temperature in the same amount of time. Yes, there are techniques that can help a lot, like spatchcocking the bird, but in the end, you're always executing a balancing act that leaves some part of the bird at least slightly shy of its ideal.

There is another way, though, and that's to cook the bird in parts. Breaking down the turkey and cooking the components means you don't get the grand centerpiece of a whole roasted bird on the table. But I'm not convinced that's nearly as much of a problem as it's made out to be.

I mean, just look at that platter of meat up above, nicely carved and reassembled for the table. Is that such a visual letdown? One could argue that sawing away at a whole bird in front of guests is a less appealing sight—given how rarely most Americans cook and eat whole turkey, few people are practiced enough at carving one to do so gracefully.

If you do decide to cook your turkey in parts, you have some options. We already have several recipes on Serious Eats, all by Kenji, each designed to deal with either some or all of the butchered bird. What we don't have is an overarching guide to those options. So I'm going to break it down for you here. (Break down the topic, that is—you can break down your own turkey at home, or ask a butcher to do it for you.)

Once you split a turkey into its component parts, you can handle those parts in a handful of ways. The breast is lean and prone to overcooking, so it's much better suited to roasting or sous vide cooking than longer cooking methods, like braising. The legs, on the other hand, can handle more heat. They, too, can be roasted (but for longer than the breast to get them perfectly well-done), or they can be braised, since, unlike the breast, they do amazingly well with extended cooking.

Sous vide, we've found, doesn't lead to good enough results with turkey leg meat to warrant the time and effort—roasting the legs is far easier, and tastes just as good.

How to Break Down a Raw Turkey

Cooking a turkey in parts first requires that you cut it into said parts. This is as easy as breaking down a chicken, and pretty much exactly the same process, except that a turkey is larger. How you do it, though, depends on the cooking method you've chosen.

The legs come off the turkey the same way no matter what: Cut through the skin on the top side of the bird that stretches between the legs and the breast, working the knife down into the natural gap between the leg and the body of the turkey.

Pop the joint where the thigh connects to the body, then continue cutting to fully remove each leg.

What you do with the rest of the turkey will vary with the cooking method. If you're roasting the breast on the bone, as our recipe for roasted turkey in parts calls for, you have to cut the breastbone, with all its meat, from the back.

Using a large, hefty chef's knife or a cleaver, this is relatively easy to do. The hardest part is when you get to where the wings meet the body, since the bones are thicker there. The trick is to find a path through the joints, instead of trying to cut through the bone itself, though a cleaver can do it with brute force if you don't feel like using finesse.

If you're cooking the turkey breast sous vide, you'll need to remove the breast meat from the bone. If you're using our recipe for sous vide turkey breast, you'll first want to remove the skin covering the breast, since the recipe will have you crisp it in the oven and use it as a garnish.

After that, cut out the wishbone, which runs along the breast where it hugs the neck.

Removing the wishbone makes it easier to slice off the meat in one large piece, since it otherwise gets in the way of the knife. (Really, you should remove the wishbone in all cases, since it's just as much in the way when you're carving any fully cooked bird, whether it was roasted whole, spatchcocked, or in parts.)

The final step is to slice the meat off the breastbone. Just like when you're carving a roasted bird, start with the knife adjacent to the keel, then slice downward until you meet the bone. Continue to work the knife along the bone, separating the meat from it as you go.

With your bird butchered, you're ready to get cooking with any of the following recipes.

Whole Roasted Turkey in Parts

Of all the approaches and combinations that are possible when cooking a turkey in parts, roasting them all is by far the easiest. Instead of fitting a whole or spatchcocked turkey into the oven, you simply shove all the parts in. Then, using an instant-read (or probe) thermometer, you pull each when it's done. That's about 150°F (66°C) for the breast and 170°F (77°C) for the legs.

It's not too impressive of a sight going in and out of the oven, but once you've carved the bird—splitting the legs, cutting the breast meat from the bone and slicing it—you can arrange a platter that's quite a looker.

There's really no additional work here compared with cooking the bird whole; you're just front-loading some of the carving work, and taking full control of the results in the process.

Braised Turkey Legs

If you want to get fancier, and have the time to add to an already-busy holiday workload, you could use a different approach for the legs, braising them instead of simply roasting them. With this recipe, what you get in return is meat that's silky and imbued with a flavorful red wine–based sauce. Admittedly, it isn't gravy, but it can hold its own in terms of deliciousness.

The first step for braised turkey legs is to brown the legs in a pan, which builds a good base of Maillard-reaction-y flavor (sounds sexy, right?).

Then you'll sauté aromatics, like onion, carrot, celery, and garlic, and add the wine and some chicken stock or turkey stock. The turkey legs get nestled into this, their skin peeking up from the inky broth to brown as the liquids reduce and the meat grows extra tender.

When the legs are done, strain the cooking liquid, then thicken it with a roux made from butter and flour. It's not traditional for Thanksgiving, but it is elegant.

Sous Vide Turkey Breast

If you're feeling ambitious, you could say to heck with roasting any part of the bird. You could braise the legs and cook the breast...sous vide.

Why do it? Well, as you can see from the photo, it sure makes for some pretty presentation. But beyond that, it gives you ultimate control. There's no risk of overcooking a turkey breast sous vide—it reaches its final temperature, in this case 145°F (63°C), and it stays there. All you have to do is slice it and serve it.

Well, okay, that's not all you have to do. There's some work involved, and it requires a small amount of skill.

First, you have to remove the skin from the turkey breast, ideally in one whole sheet. Then you have to cut off each half of the turkey breast from the bone, which I've described how to do above.

Once you've done that much, though, you have to arrange the turkey breasts into a cylinder by stacking them head to toe and tying them together with kitchen twine.

This isn't the easiest thing to do, but it is doable, especially if you have a second person to help hold things together for the first few rings of twine. After that, the meat should get easier to handle, and won't squirm and slide around too much.

That cylindrical shape is key to cutting perfectly round medallions later, but if for some reason it fails, the only thing that will be harmed is your picture-perfect presentation.

Meanwhile, the skin goes in the oven, sandwiched between layers of parchment paper and two baking sheets, until it's browned and crackling-crisp.

It's worth noting that what's pictured here is our most basic sous vide turkey breast recipe, but if you're feeling even more ambitious, you can try our deep-fried sous vide turkey porchetta (turchetta). It'll add some welcome Italian flair to the holiday table.

Don't Forget to Make Your Gravy

One of the best things about cooking a turkey in parts is that it yields plenty of scrap pieces of turkey from the back for making a quick turkey stock. That stock can then be whisked up into gravy in no time, just by thickening it with a roux of butter and flour and seasoning it with salt, pepper, and a little umami bomb for even deeper flavor. (Soy sauce and fish sauce are two of many options.)

Even better, because you'll have those scraps ready as soon as you've finished butchering your bird, you can make the gravy while the turkey cooks. No need to whip it up at the last minute with the drippings and fond from the turkey's roasting pan after it comes out of the oven. (Though pouring off the fat, deglazing it, and stirring it into the already-made gravy sure won't hurt.)

Will someone still complain? Maybe—people are crazy like that. But at least you'll know you did everything right.

This post may contain links to Amazon or other partners; your purchases via these links can benefit Serious Eats. Read more about our affiliate linking policy.

#newsofnote recipe

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williamjharwick · 8 years ago

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Physical Product Experiment [PPE #2] – Validation and Feedback

Welcome to the second edition of the Physical Product Experiment! In this series, I will be exploring and experimenting my way through a brand new realm for me: a physical product.

In case you missed the first Physical Product Experiment [PPE #1] post, you can check that out here.

To help ease you into this second post, I want to share a quick recap on what it is I am experimenting with, why I am doing it, and what it means for you!

But before I do that, I want to thank those who’ve already signed up to be a part of the initial feedback group for this physical product. You will, with the help of the productivity calendar, be writing the first draft of a book in ninety days. That’s awesome, and I’m so excited to see what you’ll write.

Remember this: You are the glue that holds this experimentation process together. Without your integral feedback and actual testing of the product, it might not make it anywhere. Thank you!

Why I Am Experimenting with a Physical Product

As I mentioned in Physical Product Experiment #1, this experiment represents the opportunity to try something new. And with that attempt comes a chance at some amazing possibilities. That’s why I am doing this; creating this physical productivity calendar.

I think the calendar can make a world of difference in the lives of folks like you and me. Whether you use the calendar to help you write the first draft of your book, or simply stay on top of the day-to-day tasks, it’s an integral tool that I envision to be not only easy to use but also necessary.

Although it’s all very exciting, the truth is it’s also scary and it may fail. But I think, and I hope you do too, that it’s an experiment worth pursuing.

Won’t you join me for the ride?

The Importance of Feedback

This physical product experiment is a test in the power and importance of feedback. To make this a successful physical product, I need to first validate its legitimacy and value. And that’s why, in the last post, I asked for twenty volunteers to test out the calendar with an actual, real-world task: writing the draft of a book in ninety days.

Before you launch anything, as I wrote about in Will It Fly?, you need to validate it. You need to make sure it’s actually something that people want. If I found, through this experiment, that this physical product concept wasn’t something people were interested in, I’d scrap it.

I want to make something that people will benefit from.

That’s why feedback is so important.

One of the things I’ve discussed a lot here on SPI is the idea of the “first, immediate reaction.” It’s something I seek from my mastermind group all the time. To elaborate on that, think of it this way:

How would someone respond to your idea with their first, immediate reaction? What’s their gut response going to be?

That’s an important gauge to keep in mind when you’re testing out your product idea. Within the context of my physical product experiment, I’m seeking that first, immediate, gut reaction from you, as you read and learn more about the calendar product; and, more specifically, I want that first, immediate reaction from those who’ve signed up to test out the calendar.

Now, before I delve deeper into the importance of feedback and validation, you may be wondering if there’s a downside to sharing your ideas with people. Unfortunately, there is.

First, there’s the insecurity part. You’ve spent all of this time coming up with this cool idea, and if you find that the first, immediate reaction is one of negativity or discouragement, that always sucks.

Second, there’s the worry that others might steal your idea. That could happen. You can’t control what people do. You can only control what you do. That is, in some ways, part of the risk that comes with the territory.

Here’s the thing. We can control our own insecurity. That’s part of the discomfort that comes with taking risks and putting ourselves out there. It’s why we do what we do. As for the idea stealing, well, there’s not much we can do about that. If people want to do that, that’s their choice. One way to reduce that risk is to share your ideas with those you trust, and maybe other people connected to them.

The truth is that the pros far outweigh the cons.

The Time I Didn’t Ask for Feedback

If you don’t talk about your ideas with others, you risk creating something that people won’t want. I’ve done that before, and I learned a lot through the process.

It was many years ago. I built a piece software without ever sharing it with anybody. Well, not until it was too late, that is. I thought it was going to be great, and make a big, positive impact. But it didn’t. I quickly discovered that it wasn’t anything special. That was really tough to stomach.

After I built and I was all set to launch it, I remember sharing it with some folks to see what they thought. But it was far too late for any changes. I was out of money and totally worn out. I couldn’t even take advantage of the positive ideas that came out of those conversations because I had already worked my way into a corner with no way to escape except to just let it go.

And so I did.

That experience reminds me of my conversation with John Saddington on Smart Passive Income Podcast Session #61 about the entrepreneurial mindset and successful startups. In that episode, John had said something that has stuck with me to this day, nearly four years later. He said:

“This is kind of a very global and very quick overview, but the first thing you do when you have a great idea is you write it down. You don’t keep it in your brain. You write it down, you vomit as much as you possibly can on a physical piece of paper. I could spend a lot of time on why I think physical pieces of paper are really valuable. So don’t just put it in Evernote, don’t just put it on a text document on your computer. Actually write it down. There’s something powerful when you apply pressure with the pen on the pieces of paper.

And then I want you to carry it around wherever you go for the next couple of weeks, or even the next month. I want you to share it with as many people as you possibly can. The people that you know, your spouse, your kids, your friends, maybe your business partners, people at Starbucks, in line at your local deli—EVERYONE. Because this is what happens when you start sharing that idea—it starts becoming refined. And a refined idea is a much more mature idea.

You’ll get quick feedback—instant, guttural feedback from people—and especially from complete strangers that say ‘that is a stupid idea’ or ‘that’s a great idea but have you thought about this?’ And again, because you have a piece of paper, you don’t have your iPhone, it’s harder to type on your iPhone, you can quickly add that. And so that’s what I do with great ideas. I capture them and I start sharing it, because now the idea is refined.”

As I mentioned before, and what John said here, is that you should be looking for that initial, immediate, gut reaction. I’m not a body language expert, but there are specific things you should look for when you share your idea with people to see how they respond. First, look to see if they move in any way. Do they perk up a bit? Do their eyes widen? Do they tilt their head?

These are all potential examples of a positive reaction in your audience. If you don’t see any of those body language tells, it could be a sign that your idea isn’t ready. Either way, it’s important to be mindful of these little tells in your audience, as they can be the key to which direction you go with your idea.

Remember the Data

In addition to the body language, data is another, more objective indicator of whether or not your idea is going to be a success.

When my team and I were creating my new course, Smart From Scratch (it’s currently closed but we’re opening it up again in June, so sign up for the waitlist here!), data and web analytics were important parts of our research process.

While data isn’t the only thing you should look at, it can help you verify and backup your claims. For example, when we built FoodTruckr.com, I did a lot of research into the data first. I looked at keywords in the food truck space, I figured out where, within the data, I could stake my claim. If I hadn’t done that data research, I might have created a site that targeted people who were looking for food trucks for sale, rather than guidance on running a food truck business. “Food trucks for sale” was a huge keyword in the industry at the time, so I had to be careful, with the keywords I used, to avoid that mistake.

However, it all came together more fully when I had actual conversations with people in the food truck industry. I learned about how some always wanted their own food truck. I learned that some needed basic business guidance in running a food truck. I learned that some were less likely to read a blog post about food trucks than listen to a podcast.

It all goes to show that, yes, data is important.

But nothing is more important than actual conversations with people.

And so, in the FoodTruckr example, we created a FoodTruckr podcast. To this day, even though I haven’t published an episode lately, the podcast gets anywhere between 200 and 1,000 downloads per day. That is, without a doubt, the result of the conversations I had, which has in turn directly affected the books and the products that are being sold on that site today.

Without being open to conversations with your audience, your idea won’t fly.

Feedback with the Physical Product Experiment

Let’s get back to why I’m here: the physical product experiment. Even before this experiment started, I initiated conversations with people to gauge their reactions. I actually talk about the questions I asked of people specifically in Smart From Scratch, which is an interesting wayfinding point in this product experiment journey.

You can actually see the progression of how this calendar idea came into being within Smart From Scratch. It was at that point I started to adopt potential customers by bringing people into the process, asking them questions, engaging with them openly about the idea.

The fact that I was able to get 65 email applications in response to the first Physical Product Experiment [PPE #1] post, is a testament to the interest in this idea. If I didn’t get any emails, or very few, then it would be very clear to me that there was something wrong with the product, the messaging, or the target market. And I’d need to rethink it with my team.

You see, traditionally, when people start businesses, they will often skip the research or maybe even just focus on the data only without engaging with the audience to find out how they respond.

They’ll go out there, they’ll spend all of their money, they’ll build their product, they’ll put all that sweat equity and effort into the idea. And then, they will make it available for purchase and shout from the rooftops to say, “Here is my product” But then, when no sales come in, they have no idea what went wrong. Was it because of the product? Was it because of the way that the product was sold? Was it because of this or that? Was it the messaging? They have no idea They’re just guessing at that point.

Don’t do that.

Instead, reach out early and often. Engage your audience, see what they think, get the feedback both you and they deserve. Trust their opinion. More often than not, you’ll be able to improve your idea greatly through that feedback loop.

With this physical calendar product idea that I’m exploring, as I talk to more and more people about it, it’s clear that this calendar and workbook idea is something that’s out there. It’s not necessarily new. So the feedback has been that it can’t be like anything else out there. It has to be an improvement on what already exists. There are a lot of great workbooks out there now that can walk you through certain processes: goal setting, discipline, and focus. That’s great. But if I were to create just another one of those with a calendar on top of it, it would definitely not be a great option, and nothing that people would want to pay money for because there already have those to choose from.

What would make my workbook better than the rest?

The answer, based on the feedback so far, is a calendar and workbook combination that targets a specific goal. In this initial test case, the goal is to write the first draft of a book in ninety days—a goal twenty of you are working toward now! That was a goal idea plucked straight from my audience, which is super cool.

But, like the product idea itself, the day-to-day use of the product needs to be interesting and engaging as well. So, based on lots of back and forth conversations about the daily goals, including discussions about daily or weekly word count goals, we learned one very important thing:

To those who had started writing a book but then stopped, we asked why they stopped. We learned, curiously, that they weren’t inspired or compelled to move forward because they either didn’t know where to take the writing or didn’t feel like the creative process was engaging or innovative enough.

So, that informs my idea by telling me that I need to make sure that a) users of the calendar and workbook feel compelled and inspired; and b) that they are engaged creatively.

If I simply created a calendar, that wouldn’t work. I needed a workbook too, and I needed to make that workbook engaging, like a handy tool. So, the idea is that the workbook would act as a guide, or the instructions toward completing the goal. Like a tutor, in a way, so there would be that built-in interactive component.

When I was first talking to people about this product idea, we had a lot of conversations about, well, what kinds of interactions would you like to see? Would you want to write down things on both the workbook and the calendar? Then there’s the discussion of what you’d want to write down. And, if there are any other components involved, including magnets or stickers that can help people keep track of their goals.

The Calendar + Workbook Goal: Writing the First Draft of a Book

As a first test of how the calendar and workbook are used together, we tasked twenty people to use the calendar and workbook as their guide to writing the first draft of a book in ninety days. Now, because this is still an experiment, we don’t know how that will go—and for those of you taking that challenge currently, we’re counting on you for all your amazing feedback!

Writing a book is definitely a challenge. I’m no stranger to that. So, we’re not sure yet how we will be gauging success as someone goes through the process. Words written per day or time spent writing or what. That is something we’re still exploring because a part of me wants to say, “Well, if you don’t meet that goal, you can still get a lot of great writing done.”

Sometimes writing is not about writing itself. It’s about coming up with ideas and brainstorming, which doesn’t include any words on a paper at all. But those are foundational elements of writing. So for example, if there was a goal to write 1,000 words per day, you still might feel like a failure even though you did all that mental preparation and brainstorming. There’d have to be a balance there.

Other options we’re still discussing is to, rather than set a daily word count goal, make it so the writer just needs to track their habit of daily writing. Not set word count goal. Just that they’ve written. The more you write, after all, the more likely your writing will become a habit. It becomes easier, and then you have the potential of achieving that deep work phase like Cal Newport mentioned in Smart Passive Income Podcast Session #255.

Every one who I spoke to loved the idea of tracking a habit that supported a specific goal. I like the idea of even including a sticker, from the workbook, that can be placed on the calendar as a visible motivator to keep going. I think that is simple but powerful.

And yet, we’re still here experimenting and testing. There are still a lot of questions in the air, and we’re still collecting a lot of feedback. People validated that they really liked the idea of a shorter, thirteen-week or quarterly calendar rather than a twelve-month calendar. The idea is that it allows you to reassess your goals more quickly when the new calendar rolls around.

One more thing I’ll mention about the feedback is that people wanted to know who else was going to go through the calendar/workbook goal process with them. I think we can all agree that it’s much easier to do something when you know there are other people doing it with you. But that wasn’t initially something we had thought about because we just were working on the workbook and the calendar. But now, thanks to the awesome feedback, I think there’s going to be a community component added in to enable and inspire them to engage with each other.

So, that’s where we’re at now. We’re still having conversations with people but we’re narrowing things down and are about ready to create our first prototype. We’re also working on branding at the same time because we’re planning for the future. If this is something that works out very well, we’re going to expand it into other goals. However, we’re definitely not making anything permanent until we can say yes to this particular step and have something in place before moving forward.

Stay tuned for the next installment of the Physical Product Experiment! You’ll see that on the Smart Passive Income blog next month!

Thanks to all those who’ve signed up to test out the calendar and workbook, and to those who have simply expressed curiosity in the idea. You folks rock.

If you haven’t yet made the leap to start testing and writing your first book draft, we’re opening up a few more slots!

Physical Product Experiment [PPE #2] – Validation and Feedback shared from David Homer’s Blog

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