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skepticalarrie · 2 years

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Hi allie 🥺🥺 I hope this is not too much trouble but its hard for me to keep up with everything. do you know which songs from louis' new album we have information about already or the lyrics?? thanks

Hi, anon! We actually have good information about most songs so far, which is very exciting:

1.The Greatest: This song was leaked, here are the lyrics. And that's what he said about the song for Euphoria Magazine:

“That was specifically written as a tour opener, not necessarily an album opener at the time. Musically, it’s interesting. There’s probably not another song like that on the record. It starts the album with a statement of intent, which I think is important. There’s a certain ambitious level to that.” (September 1st 2022)

Also a quote from his interview for BBC:

Faith In The Future is dedicated to his avid fanbase. The propulsive opening track, The Greatest, is a celebration of their relationship. (September 17th 2022)

2. Written All Over Your Face: We have the lyrics here and here's a quote also from Euphoria Magazine:

[The album immediately switches it up and dives straight into “Written All Over Your Face,” an infectious indie floor-filler that we both agree is reminiscent of the first two Arctic Monkeys albums.] “I’m a big fan of that sound, big fan of that energy. I went into the room with these people I’ve done a few sessions with, and I said, let’s try and take this as punk as I can get away with. I suppose that’s where the Arctic Monkeys reference comes from; there are obviously punk elements within what they do.” (September 1st 2022)

3. Bigger Than Me: It's the first single from the album so it's by far the one we have the most information about, I couldn't put together everything he said about the song but here are a few things LTHQ shared:

It was written during summer 2021

It was written in London at Wendyhouse Studios with Robert Harvey, George Tizzard, and Rick Parkhouse

It was produced by Mike Crossey in Los Angeles

And here's a few quotes:

“We did it in London. We wrote that in London. There was a lot of pressure, at least I put a lot of pressure on myself in terms of what i wanted out of this first single. And I knew that I kind of, especially with how well the tour shows have been going on, I wanna keep this momentum going. I knew I had to come out of the blocks with something that feels pretty big inside.” Smallzy (September 5th 2022)

“I was nervous I’m not gonna lie, I’ve done quite a lot of shows this year which have stayed in the same set, so to add something new, and then to add that song - probably the hardest song I’ve had to sing vocally, it’s got that big chorus - I was nervous. But what surprises me everytime, the song has been out no time, and there’s so many people out there that know it already, in the crowd I mean, so naturally that fills you full of confidence.” BBC The One Show (September 7th 2022)

4. Lucky Again: This one also got leaked in August. Here are the lyrics.

5. Face The Music: It was written in collaboration with Dave Gibson. We also have a quote from BBC:

Coming of age is a theme that surfaces throughout his new album, Faith In The Future. On Face The Music, he philosophises that "good and bad and right and wrong are stories made up when we are young to scare us". (September 17th 2022)

6. Chicago: Jojo Wright said this about the song, here's the transcript:

“We went into the room, had a little chat […] and then he decided to leave the room while we listened to the music. He walks back in and I’m like “Who’s Chicago about? Who’s that?” He didn’t give me a crazy answer, but it’s about a person. […] He just appreciated the fact I had - that all of us were just curious! What is this about […] It’s just a deep track, it got me thinking who is this about, what happened…”

7. Common People: We have this quote from BBC:

Common People (not a cover of the Pulp classic) is about reconnecting with his roots in Doncaster. "When I get lost, I go back to where I started," he sings. "That song's just trying to capture how amazing the people are there. If you're one of us, we'll hold out our arms and we'll embrace you." (September 17th 2022)

8. Out Of My System: We have part of the lyrics here, this one was also written in collaboration with Dave Gibson. And here's a little quote about the song from Alt Press:

That incorporation of dance melodies is something that erupts on “Out of My System,” a pulsating, punk-tinged Arctic Monkeys-inspired track that recalls the heyday of early aughts indie rock. The day Tomlinson made the track, he had been listening to “Teddy Picker” or “Dancing Shoes” (he can’t quite remember), but he knew exactly what kind of music he wanted to make. “I went in and said, ‘Let's try to write a song that is as punk as I can get away with,’” he recalls. And he led with that kind of intensity and energy from early Arctic Monkeys albums to craft the song. (September 6th 2022)

9. Angels Fly: Nothing

10. Saturdays: All we have is the people he worked in the song with, it was registered in June 2022:

11. Silver Tongues:

Plus the quote from Euphoria Magazine:

With that, one particular track that Tomlinson is most pleased with is “Silver Tongues,” a joyful and wholesome moment that honors the little intricacies of his relationship. Once completed, he boldly stated it was the first time Tomlinson had written a song that he could imagine being sung by an artist that he is really fond of. “That song was a great part of the writing process,” he says. “On this record, I tried to write with less professional songwriters and more artists, and ‘Silver Tongues’ is a good example of that. What you get with that is a different level of care and love for what you’re doing, instead of making it about money and trying to get the single.” Another reason Tomlinson credits “Silver Tongues” for being so special is its authenticity. “It’s not trying to be anything that it’s not. We were not trying to write a single, and there’s just a certain level of energy to it,” Tomlinson adds. (September 1st 2022)

12. She is Beauty We Are World Class:

Plus the quote from Euphoria Magazine:

Faith In The Future is bursting with exciting moments. However, what might surprise fans the most is the fact that Tomlinson is delving back into the dance genre sooner than expected on “All This Time” and “She Is Beauty We Are World Class.” (September 1st 2022)

13. All This Time: Same as the above

14. That’s The Way Love Goes: We have two quotes:

After taking on a journey through various sonics, Tomlinson closes Faith In The Future with the melodic and most tender song, “That’s The Way Love Goes.” After playing around with the tracklisting, Tomlinson claims that he “couldn’t get away from that idea,” adding that “you’ve got two options to end the album: you either end with a slap round the face or a little ballad moment.” Detailing a non-sexual love between two best friends, Tomlinson is confident that this is a song fans are going to adore. “I think it’s an interesting story, an interesting visual going through the song. With the way the album is structured, it kind of fits nicely to finish on that message. I wouldn’t have been able to do that on the first album because there weren’t enough peak moments of energy,” he says. Euphoria Magazine (September 1st 2022)

Tomlinson’s focus on intensity doesn’t extend to every song on Faith In The Future — at least not overtly. While he would have left the listener (hopefully) wanting more with “a wall of sound” on a record’s final track, he approached Faith In The Future’s closer “That’s The Way Love Goes” differently. The song, which was his take on the vulnerable simplicity of the Streets’ “Dry Your Eyes,” was the only track he could end the record on — one about a friend encouraging another friend to get over the fact that he’s not in a relationship anymore. “It's not the fact that you're not sympathizing. You're looking after him from afar, but you're not necessarily a shoulder to cry on,” Tomlinson explains. Alt Press (September 6th 2022)

The 4 extra songs: Headline: We have the lyrics here Holding Onto Heartache: Nothing :( Saved By a Stranger (demo): You can listen to the demo here and here are the lyrics. Paradise: Also nothing so far.

#ask #faith in the future #long post #the greatest #written all over your face #bigger than me #chicago #out of my system #silver tongues #that's the way love goes #fitf track list #mine #masterpost

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bloodpenned · 3 years

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plz plz plz can you write m!whitney skullfucking pc

wordcount: 2.5k (can’t believe this is the first time i write an actual fic on here.) cw: noncon, detailed ero guro / gore porn, eye trauma, drugging, knives, vomit mention, needle mention, degradation, victim blaming.

or: whitney fucks your eye socket and prepares you for the act. don’t read this to upset or trigger yourself, please.

Since all of your holes have been used by others, Whitney makes one for himself.

“Look at you- You can barely keep your fucking head up, slut.”

The voice drifts to you from far away, a figure leaning over the ice you’re trapped under. Where am I?, you ask, but all your vocal cords produce is a gurgle. Your limbs are made of cement and frozen in place. Letting yourself be dragged back into the depths of unconsciousness is much easier than staying afloat. Through trembling eyelids, you barely make out the shape of the person in front of you. Their legs, to be precise. Pain shoots through your scalp and you jolt, finally present enough for the ties around your wrists and ankles to register in your mind, the cold wall you’re leaning against. That it’s Whitney, because who fucking else would it be, yanking you up by your hair. Your tongue still refuses to move.

“Follow.” His voice feigns disinterest. Yet he keeps shuffling, leaning his weight more on one leg, then the other again. He holds his hand in front of your face, moving it from side to side. Your head is so fuzzy you see no reason to disobey. By the time you’ve caught up with him to the right, he’s already back the other way. Your eyelids droop. He laughs. “God, you’re out of it. Poor you, did I gave you a little too much? You can’t say I’ve ever underestimated you.”

As soon as his grip loosens, your head drops and black dots litter your vision. Drool spills from your mouth. Something bad is about to happen, there’s no other explanation for this. His hands will end up all over your body again. But there’s no chatter of his friends, no flashes of cameras, so different from the usual that you don’t know what to expect. The world fades out, before flickering back in the middle of a sentence.

“...pay me back. Got that? Good.” The hand is back in your hair, keeping you steady. He’s digging around in his pocket. “If you weren’t such a whore, I wouldn’t have to do this. Did you think I wouldn’t see those pictures? Wouldn’t know when my slut’s gagging around someone else? I promised I would beat some sense into you if you didn’t listen, so here we are.”

Whitney’s found what he had been looking for. There’s something in his hand, moving toward your face too quickly to make out. Everything’s so blurry that even while squinting, you can’t immediately tell what it is. You nearly go crosseyed trying to figure it out. A handle clenched in his fist, gray, reflecting surface, ending in a sharp point-

A knife.

“You’re a fucking cumbrain already, but I’ll give you one too.”

You watch the situation unfold from the back of your skull. This is happening to someone else, anyone except you. It’s a movie, and a bad one at that. You can’t pinch your arm to wake yourself up. Whitney had hurt you before, sure, with his bare hands. Never like this. He’s always made fun of Kylar for having to resort to knives, why would he use one now? Is it just a threat? It has to be. Then again, you’re so disoriented you don’t stand a sliver of a chance against him. Your heart hammers against your ribcage, so loud it makes your head throb. The furthest your abilities go is to shake your head and force a whimper from your throat, rubbing your wrists raw on the zip tie. Whitney presses cold steel against your cheek. You try to spit at him, but you can’t put any force behind it. It dribbles down your chin in a slow stream.

Whitney barks out a laugh. “What the fuck are you, a dog?” The knife digs into your skin, a gentle push away from slicing you open. “Don’t get to get too excited yet, we haven’t even started, slut.” He slides the blade up to your bottom eyelid, leaving a shallow cut. (Your brain is fuzzy. Your cheeks are warm, burning- Are you blushing? Is the wetness rolling down your face a tear?) Your fingers twitch, your teeth grind together, every muscle pulled tight like a bowstring.

His breathing is laboured, eyes boring into yours, expression blank for a mere moment. Whitney, as you know him from school, is all but empty. He’s of scoffing and snarling, of laughter and grins- This is nothing you recognize. Your gut twists. Every instinct in your body is screeching at the top of its lungs for you to run. At the same time, another part tells you to stay as still as possible, as if you will simply fade out of existence if you don’t move. (But it’s okay, because none of this is real, and you’re at the orphanage in bed curled up under the covers, and you’ll wake up late and rush to get your uniform to not miss the bus and you’ll be fine, you’ll be fine, you’ll be fine-) Whitney’s tongue darts out to trace his upper lip, his fingers turning white around the handle.

The next, there is a blow of air against your eye before pure, indescribable agony accompanied by a wet squelch. You’re dying, you’re dying, you’re dying, it’s over- Half of your face has been blown off, your brain is exposed for all to see and poke and prod, your lungs collapse with every breath, your throat spasms around vomit. What’s left of your right side of vision is a red and black pulsating blur. The screams, the sole outburst you’re capable of, are mere groans in the back of your throat. Your mouth opens and closes like a fish on land. Blood, sweat, tears, pus, slime- You wouldn’t know. Something oozes down your face, thick mucus, making a mess on your lap. You’re warm, you’re cold, sweat thick underneath your clothes. Everything is wet. Everything is hot.

A hand is on your head, stroking. The sensation dissapears into and becomes one with the pain, the thing that melts everything else away. “There you go, you’re being so good! But I’m not done yet.” He speaks to you in the tone reserved purely for dogs. From the corner of your good eye, you can see him reaching his fist back and pounds it against the handle, your entire world dissolving into nothing as it hits.

When you wake up, you do so to a palpitating heart that’s skipping beats left and right, to a convulsing body, to spit frothing at your mouth and a needle in your leg. The gag in your mouth rubs against your tongue and tastes of sweat. Whitney has discorded the knife, left it at your feet. Your eyeball looks like scrambled egg white on one end, a sloppy mess, and you gag. At one point or another, you will have to come to term with the fact that you’re never going to see from it again.

“Can’t have you leaving before the party’s started.” Your head whips around, the sensation of something sloshing inside your eye socket immediately making you regret it. Wind blows straight into the wound and causes you to ear up. He’s on your right. Somewhere. What you assume to be the syringe falls to the ground with a clatter. There’s no way he isn’t standing there, in the void he created, on purpose. You would’ve preferred to be really fucking dead right now. Let him rape your corpse, at least you wouldn’t have to be there to notice it. Whatever he injected you with, it’s all so much sharper now. The lights are brighter, every little step he takes ringing in your ears, your right eye (or the slurry that’s left of it) aflame. You rock back and forth to shuffle further away from him, but you’re already backed against a wall and the movement makes the blood in your skull slosh alongside it.

“Gotta check if you’re wet enough for me. Thank me later, slut.” Whitney pulls on your eyelashes, the tip of his finger teasing the hole. Once in a while, it dips into the wound, your nerves tingling in anticipation at the near touch. Breath hitching every time, your brain can’t comprehend what’s exactly happening to you. Your heart pounds in your ears, your limbs keep twitching against your will. Now that you can, you want to struggle, but you’re so scared of that pain, terrified that he could choose to take the other one as well.

All you want is for this to be over. You just want to be home. As flawed of a home it is, it’s still the one place you can think to return to. (Robin will be there, waiting for you. They always have. Could you still keep up with them during games, now that you’re like this? Bailey’s presence, suffocating as it is, at least keeps you safe from intruders. How pissed off are they going to be, now that you're a damaged ware?)

“Can’t you sit still for one fucking second? You wanna know what it feels like when I slip so badly?” Your head jerks to the side against your will, foot hitting his ankle. “I guess you do, huh? But, fuck- You keep writhing around, maybe I should give the needy whore what they want. You’re soaked, that’s for sure.”

Whitney pulls away, his fingers coated a pale red. Using your hair as a rag, he smears the fluids in it, tugging on it once for good measure. He takes a step back, descends back outside your field of vision. There’s the rustling of fabric, unbuckling of a belt, a zipper being undone. You begin to plead through your gag, repeating muffled, incomprehensible words, because please, anything but this, not right now, not ever, hasn’t he done enough, isn’t he satisfied, he’s already ruined you enough, please, just please-

“It’s cute you think you have a choice.”

There’d been a nagging suspicion in the back of your head that it would come down to this. Every meeting with Whitney would end up leading down the same path, but this time... You choke on your breaths, chest heaving with sobs. With every shock of your shoulders, more heat leaks out of your eyes, your entire face turning into one throbbing mess. You squeeze your eyes shut. (There’s no way you can move the right eyelid, the knife has torn straight through it. All it is now is limp meat, hanging on by a thread.) His dick presses against your cheek. Fucking hell, why does he have to be so big too? There’s ringing in your ears as he leaves a trail of precum, mingling with the mess already there. His scent overpowered by the metallic smell of blood. Why can’t you just pass out again? But you’re still twitching, thoughts racing faster than you can keep track of.

“You’ve been asking for this, don’t try to deny it. I’m not stupid. Well, you’ve got my attention now. You better be grateful.” He misses the first time, the head of his dick rubbing against your eyebrow. Whitney curses underneath his breath. Trembling fingers tug your eyelids as far apart as possible and you hate it, you hate this so fucking much, you want someone to come by here to save you, you want to sink through the floor, you want to die.

He sucks in a breath through grit teeth, and hits his mark. You’re not sure how much he crammed inside your skull, but all of it was too much, too cruel. The screaming is clear through your bounds, raking your throat raw. Whichever way you move, his cock stays lodged in between the bone. The muscles snap and tear, the bones crack, the flesh, like the tight fit that it is, clings around his dick, and he groans as he pushes himself further inside. An impossible amount of more fat and mucus and slime comes free, clogging your nose. The back of your head slams against the wall with every movement, but it doesn’t hurt, doesn’t compare.

There’s nothing else. There can be nothing else. Your mind is full and empty at the same time. He’s all you can think about, he’s fucking the memory of him into your brain, leaving his permanent mark. Is this what he wanted? You’re being dissected, pulled apart, the creases of your brain violated. He’s saying things, (tight, mess, slut, enjoying, loud.), but he’s pulling out and the scrape of the warm flesh makes the scenery blur. Your throat feels like it was pulled across sandpaper.

The pressure dissipates and you cry in pure relief. But, a moment later, he’s back in and down a slightly different path at a slightly different angle and there’s more snapping, more gushes of fluid. The only thing that will ever fit there again will be him. The perfect little cocksleeve. He’s pushing up against something and you don’t know what, but every time he twitches and brushes against it, your entire vision blacks out. Where the pain reached a crescendo before, it’s turned around to be almost numbing now. Are your nerves torn up? Are you dying?

“Open your mouth. Wait, fuck-” He’s breathless, stuttering over his words. His dick twitches and scrapes against bone. Trembling fingers remove the gag from your mouth. If this were literally any other situation, you might have been almost proud to have turned him into such a wreck. “Stick your tongue out and it’ll be over. Done.”

You latch onto those words like a lifeline. No matter how it ends, you just want it to be over. Without much more than a second of delay you do as he asks, your good eye rolling up to try and look at him. Considering how full your head is, you hardly notice the strings of cum being added to the pool, until some of it leaks through your nose and onto your tongue. He puts one hand on your head, shaking it until more follows. (Though his cum isn’t the only thing there.)

Strings of blood and slime stick to his dick like drool as he pulls out. You hate him. You hate yourself. You hate this fucking town, and you hate every piece of shit in it. Your brain is a cacophony of screaming, of visions of growing fangs and claws and tearing him to shreds, of burning this whole town down. All you do is stare up without really looking, eyes glazed over. You’re tired, so unbelievably tired. All you want to do is rest, even if it’s while bleeding out in some shitty alleyway. His voice drifts to you from far away, smile clear in his tone.

“That wasn’t so bad, was it?”

An eye for an eye has never sounded so appealing before.

#degrees of lewdity #whitney the bully #i knoooow he wouldnt do this but whatever i like writing it and also i can do whatever i want #it was just a top tier request i cant help myself #seriously dont read to freak yourself out !#k.gore #k.degradation #k.drugs #k.knife

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mostlysignssomeportents · 4 years

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No one should be on the No-Fly List. There should not be a No-Fly List.

It's been a minute, and the past four years really raised the bar on presidential evil, but here's a thing you should remeber: George W Bush was a fucking terrible president and everything he did was terrible.

The War on Terror - the latest addition to America's pantheon of Forever Wars - leveraged a national trauma to strip away human rights and incinerate official accountability.

Though this was described as a tool for punishing "terrorists," the toolkit it handed to every law enforcement officer, from G-Men to school cops, was given a real workout.

The war on terror turned everyone with a badge into a puny martinet, able to violate the rights of marginalized and disfavored people without fear of any consequences, reversing decades of hard-won progress on civil and human rights.

The punishment the war on terror has meted out to women, LGBTQ+ people, BIPOC people, political progressives, racialized people, Black people, Muslim people, and anyone who looked crosseyed at a mall cop is limitless and endless.

GWB did some really awful shit, like creating offshore torture sites (not just Gitmo, a web of them, around the world), and starting a bogus war that has raged so long that there are adults fighting it today who weren't born when it began.

In the grand scheme of things, the No-Fly List isn't even in the top ten of garbage things for which we should forever curse GWB but it is still an utter piece of shit, an idiotic policy enforced by idiots to no good purpose at the cost of enormous human suffering.

The Identity Project, and its Papers, Please! website, have been documenting the No-Fly List's incoherent cruelty since its inception. Today, they posted an extensive article explaining how the list (really many lists) works.

https://papersplease.org/wp/2021/01/19/put-them-on-the-no-fly-list/

There's this thing that happens when you study corruption: you start with this complex, difficult system, and someone who understands it begins to explain it, and as they hold up each piece and say what it does and what it's called, you have a revelation:

Ohhhh, it's just bullshit.

I mean, go read up on how mortgage-backed securities work, or pharmacy benefits managers, or special purpose acquisition compaies, or cash bail. Really lean into it, pay attention. You'll get there.

The reason it doesn't make sense to lay people isn't that it's complicated. It doesn't make sense because it's fucking nonsense. The complexity is there to delay this realization.

That's the no-fly list. It's bullshit.

The Qanon-addled white-nationalist cult members who stormed the capitol last week shouldn't be on the no-fly list because there shouldn't be a no-fly list.

And if that's not good enough for you, try this one on: they shouldn't be on the no-fly list because if we lower the already rock-bottom standards for inclusion on that list, they're coming for the people you love next.

G-men and campus cops and TSA gropeaholics and thrice bailed out aviation monopolists and small town cops flush with civil forfeiture cash won't hesitate for an instant before putting the Wall of Moms and your whole middle school gay-straight alliance on the list.

Forever.

If there's one thing we should all have learned from the four year nightmare we've just barely survived, it's that being stampeded into taking away rights from people you don't like is an utter monkey's paw, and when the fingers curl, they're coming for you.

We need to do something about the violent, deranged cult that spent the summer showing up in battle-rattle to terrorize state lawmakers, culminating in the Jan 6 riot. We need a COUP Act to investigate the links between cops and Nazis.

https://twitter.com/actdottv/status/1351291227530924032

But what we positively do not need is to expand the power of the institutions that we have good reason to suspect are shot through with unhinged white nationalists so they have even more control over who can exercise the basic human right of going from one place to another.

Always remember: the No-Fly List is composed of people we're sure are too dangerous to be allowed on a plane - but who, inexplicably, we don't have enough evidence against to convict of any crime. In other words, it's an evidence-free witch-ducking stool in the cloud(s).

#pluralistic

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chikkou · 3 years

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Did work go ok? ): im so sorry you had to do it on no sleep

ok i ate now so i feel a little more focused LMAO

anyway the fucking weird thing is it wasnt even a bad day?? it was just fucking bizarre. i think i was just barely keeping it together so things that wouldve been frustrating or red flags about the job were just fucking HYSTERICAL to me

some highlights included:

- literally EVERYTHING that was supposed to be prepared for my arrival (my email, some software im supposed to have access to, etc) was not ready. they had 2 weeks to get this shit ready. stuff that was supposed to take maybe 2 hours tops ended up taking the entirety of my shift. the guy training me ended up showing me how to do half the shit on HIS computer because we couldnt log me onto mine.

- my monitor being so fucked during a zoom call that it kept duplicating this one persons video onto other videos like a virus, and when i refreshed to fix it, not only did it start duplicating a DIFFERENT video, but it also broke the colors and started turning this dude purple and grey and the wall behind him green and red. i was shaking laughing the entire time and the guy training me just looked tired

- the automated door to the IT office locking us out. like the dude punched the numbers in and tried to open it and it just wouldnt budge. when someone inside tried to open it for us it STILL wouldnt open. we had to walk around to the other side and wait for someone to open THAT door, which was in another department so we had to wait until someone from that department noticed and let us in. this made what shouldve been a 5-10 minute process turn into an almost half hour long sojourn. the icing on that cake - and i shit u not - is that roughly 3 minutes after we finally got inside, someone else tried the door from the inside and it opened just fine. incidentally i was chatting with my trainer during all that and now im pretty sure hes gay so thats nice LMAO

- because nothing was ready and i couldnt do much of anything, but also am not (technically) allowed to be on my phone, i spent the majority of my shift reading and rereading the company website. thats literally 80% of what i did for the entire 8 hour shift. i was exhausted and crosseyed by the end but hey i sure know their fucking insurance policies now (and theyre bad ♥)

- the piece de resistance for all of this: the reason everything was in such fucking disarray during my shift is because, apparently, the (unofficial?) head of IT quit out of the blue the day before and abandoned everything he was supposed to be doing, including processing my paperwork. no one outside of IT knew and i literally only found out bc i mentioned that he hadnt answered when id called him earlier, to which this other IT guy responded, "well, he quit yesterday, so. thats why."

in fairness to the dude who quit im sure the other IT employees could have done it on their own, but his quitting was really sudden and when i told my trainer what happened he got all sullen and was like "oh. okay... that makes a lot of sense." so i get the impression this dude was probably the backbone of the IT department and him leaving so abruptly really upended their whole shit fgjkdfg

thats not even all of the stuff that happened either. these are literally just the things i personally found the most fucking insane/the funniest. like... this was all my FIRST DAY bro LMAO

#anya's anons #long post #i hope this is vague enough LMAO

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sukifans · 4 years

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PET • RI • CHOR

[n] a pleasant smell that accompanies the first rain after a long period of warm, dry weather

ZUKO X OC SERIES

SUMMARY: a captured waterbender and the fire prince may sound like an unlikely pair, but kena never much cared about others’ expectations and zuko, well… he was just along for the ride

⏎ MASTERLIST // PART II « PART III » PT IV

Zuko was starting to enjoy his life in Ba Sing Se a lot more now that Kena was a part of it. She liked to visit him during his shifts to sit and do her coursework. Even though they didn’t get to talk much while they were both busy, he liked just knowing she was nearby. She radiated a calming energy from her table in the corner that seemed to make difficult customers and broken teacups a thousand times more bearable. In slower moments he found himself studying her — how her brow furrowed in concentration, the way she chewed her bottom lip, when she tapped her pen against the table as she read, and (his favorite) the small smile that her lips quirked into whenever she looked up and caught him staring at her. Uncle teased him mercilessly and almost always wore a knowing smirk, but it was okay because it made Kena laugh. Hearing her laugh after all these years was his favorite sound in the world and he tried to hear it as often as he could.

Kena liked to coax him out of the apartment when he wasn’t working. She claimed he still looked a little worse for wear after his travels and sulking inside certainly wouldn’t help with that. He complied easily, of course — she didn’t know it, but he thought he’d do pretty much anything for her. He was firmly wrapped around her little finger and, honestly, he didn’t mind all that much. That particular day they were both free and she had decided to take him up to the Middle Ring to visit one of the nicer parks. They sat in a large open field, leaning against a tree trunk in the shade of the foliage and relaying their stories from the years apart. She was trying to teach him how to weave a flower crown like she’d learned from a group of singing nomads but he was pretty miserable at it.

“Don’t laugh at me,” he muttered when he caught her grinning at his lopsided attempt that looked nothing like a crown, even by the loosest definition.

“You’re tying them together wrong. Look-“ she said. She leaned over and slowly showed him the proper knot. His brow furrowed as he watched her nimble fingers wrap and pull at the stems, resulting in a perfect two-piece chain amongst his many attempts.

“I don’t think this is salvageable, Kena.” He looked irritated, dropping it in his lap. She picked it up and pulled it over her head, setting it on her shoulders.

“Maybe not as a crown, but it makes a very lovely necklace, I think.” He smiled at her.

“That’s not saying much. You could make a rice sack look good.”

“Oh, uh... thanks, Zuko,” she responded, taken off guard by the compliment. She looked down at her hands as her cheeks warmed. They sat quietly for a bit, enjoying the gentle breeze on the warm day. She was surprised when Zuko shifted to lay down and set his head on her lap. When he noticed her wide eyes, he sat up again.

“Sorry, was that okay?”

She nodded. “Yeah, it just... surprised me, is all. Lay back down.” She put her hand on his shoulder and guided him back down. Grinning, she set the intricate crown of white and yellow flowers she’d made on top of his face. He squinted up at her. “A crown fit for a prince,” she declared. He rolled his eyes.

“I don’t think this is how crowns are meant to be worn,” he said.

“Forgive me, my liege.” She bowed her head dramatically. “Us common folk know not of such things.” She laughed when he groaned and closed his eyes, moving the flowers to sit on his chest instead. He sighed contentedly when she started playing with his hair, twisting the short strands between her fingers. Cautiously and delicately as one would handle a butterfly’s wing, she ghosted her fingertips over his scar, sending a not-unpleasant shiver down his spine. He cracked one eye open to be met with her questioning gaze.

“My father,” he said in response to her unasked question. He closed his eye again as she frowned and moved her hand back to his hair. “Uncle let me sit in on a war meeting and I spoke out of turn. I questioned one of the generals’ tactics and got challenged to an Agni Kai for my disrespect. I thought I’d be fighting the general, but since I had spoken out in the Fire Lord’s war room, it was my father. I refused to fight and begged for his mercy. He... did not forgive so easily, and- ow, Kena.” Zuko opened his eyes fully when she tugged too hard at his hair.

“Sorry,” she mumbled, dropping her hands. “I just- hmph.” She clenched her fists and sucked in a deep breath to calm herself. “I’m fine. Keep going. How did you end up in Ba Sing Se?”

“Well, I was banished after the Agni Kai. Uncle came with me — thank Agni, I think I would’ve been dead ages ago if he hadn’t — and we’ve been... traveling for the last three years. I think Uncle got sick of being on the move all the time, so now we’re here, I guess.” He carefully avoided mentioning his hunt for the Avatar. He didn’t want Kena to know that side of him because it might push her away. He desperately wanted to be the person she thought he was and he was terrified of losing her again. She was the best thing to happen to him in a very long time. Kena could sense wasn’t telling her something, but she knew better than to push him. He’d obviously been through a lot, and she wanted to be a positive force in his life. Positive forces don’t pry. He would tell her when he was ready.

“What about your mother?” She felt him tense up and she slowly began carding her fingers through his hair again, weaving small individual flowers into the inky black.

“What about her?”

“Did she try to stop the Agni Kai?”

He squeezed his eyes shut again and sighed heavily. “She left when I was eleven. I haven’t seen her in years. I don’t know why, or what happened, or even if she’s still alive, but I know she’s gone because of him.”

“And Azula?” She frowned at his scoff. “I know you two never got along, but she’s still your sister.”

“She only got worse as we got older. She was practically jumping for joy when I was banished because she could be Father’s little pet in peace without her failure of a brother around.” His voice was filled with bitterness as he spoke about his sister, mouth twisted into a deep frown.

“You’re not a failure,” Kena said gently.

“Only you and Uncle seem to think so.”

“Well, that’s because we’re smart. I’m quite proud of you, actually.”

He looked at her suspiciously. “For what?”

“For not going back. It’s very brave of you. You grew up sheltered in the palace and then were thrust out into the world with nothing after losing everything you knew. It’s admirable, how you kept going.”

Zuko felt his stomach churn uneasily. She was too confident in him, too ready to believe that he was as good and strong as he pretended to be. He felt sick lying to her but he knew he would feel much worse if she left.

When he was silent, she continued. “It’s difficult to go through all that and still make an effort to be kind.”

“I don’t think that’s how many people would describe me.”

“You’re a bit grumpy and gloomy, sure,” she laughed at his offended look, “but I think you’re very sweet.”

He ignored the warmth flooding his face. “It’s easy to be nice to a person like you.”

She smiled. “Kindness, compassion, empathy — they are all choices you have to make. If they were easy, the world wouldn’t be in a century-long war.”

“I’ve done a lot of bad things in the past.”

“We all have. We are products of our circumstances. Your whole life you’ve suffered and yet you’re still a good person.”

“I don’t think I’m a good person.”

“Well, I do. Good people make bad choices, too. Being good doesn’t mean being perfect.”

He avoided her eyes, focusing on ripping up the blades of grass. “You sound like Uncle.”

“Like I said, we’re smart.” She used the pad of her finger to smooth the lines between his brow, rubbing away his anxious look. They were silent again for a few minutes while he mulled over her words. She could tell he was deep in thought, so she just continued her ministrations on his hair while she waited for him to speak again.

When he did, his voice was soft. “My father used to say that Azula was born lucky, and I was lucky to be born.”

“What an idiotic thing to say,” she said simply. His eyes snapped up to her. He’d forgotten just how blunt she could be.

“Excuse me?”

“I think you’re luckier being you than her.”

“She’s a prodigy. She’s always been his favorite.”

“Yes, and where has that gotten her? Azula is still a child and yet she’s been driven to the brink of insanity trying to be good enough for your father but she never will be.”

“She was loved.”

“She was used. You were loved, Zuko. What about Iroh? Your mother? Me?” When he didn’t answer, she shook her head. “What your father gives her, that’s not love. You have both suffered at his hands, but you have people who love you. Azula doesn’t have love, she has fear. I feel bad for her. I hope one day she finds peace within herself. I hope she learns to love and be loved.” She propped her elbows on her knees and held her head in her hands, leaning over his face as her hair fell around them and shielded them from the rest of the world.

“You loved me?” he asked quietly, staring up into her eyes in amazement. Her heart broke a little at the shock in his expression.

“Of course I did. I’ve always loved you.”

His pulse raced at her words and he leaned up on his elbows to get closer, examining her face for signs of deception. All he saw was the gentle smile that graced her pretty mouth, the raised white scar stark against her brown skin, her soft grey eyes that beckoned him in. He could stare at her until he went crosseyed, memorizing every detail. She’d been cute when they were kids, sure, but now... he thought she might be the most breathtaking person he’d ever seen. His gaze flicked down to her lips and he thought about kissing her.

Before he could move she was shifting to stand, grabbing his hands and pulling him up to his feet as well. She propped the crown she’d made him onto the tangled nest of black hair and tiny wildflowers on top of his head before dragging him out of the shade and into the bright afternoon sun. She sighed happily before flopping down in the grass again to lay on her back, stretching languidly like a cat in the warm rays.

“Come on, fire boy; you need some sun. You still look sickly.” She patted the ground next to her and bent her other arm behind her head.

“That’s just my skin... water girl,” he muttered, rolling his eyes as he laid anyways when Kena laughed at his weak retort. She slid her hand over his and laced their fingers together. His palm radiated warmth into hers. She smiled and closed her eyes, tilting her head into the sunshine. His eyes devoured her, admiring the way the light bounced off her high cheekbones and silhouetted the slope of her nose and the gentle curve of her lips. She felt his stare and opened one eye.

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Like what?”

Like you love me, she wanted to say. “Like a weirdo,” she joked instead, poking her tongue out at him playfully. His huff of annoyance was betrayed by the small smile he couldn’t fully hide. They laid there for a while, just staring at each other and basking in the other’s presence with their hands still clasped between them. She scanned his face unabashedly. Anger still bubbled in her core when she saw his scar, only to be assuaged by the way his honey-colored eyes seemed to glitter and glow in the sun. There were no words in any language sufficient to describe how they felt being together again, but they didn’t need words. All that mattered was that it was the best and most content either of them had felt in years. Her heart felt remarkably full when he kept her hand squeezed tightly in his as they made their way back to the Lower Ring in the orange glow of the setting sun.

“Oh, I almost forgot to tell you the news,” he said suddenly, stopping in his tracks. She looked back at him with raised eyebrows, signaling him to continue. “Some men came by the tea house yesterday afternoon and offered Uncle the chance to start his own shop in the Upper Ring.”

She frowned. “What’s the catch?”

“I don’t know,” he shrugged, “but they offered him total creative control and a new apartment for us. He agreed.”

“Oh,” she said hollowly, “that’s nice.” She dropped his hand and turned to keep walking, looking troubled. Surprised at her reaction, Zuko jogged to fall back in step next to her. He hadn’t meant to upset her.

“What’s wrong? I thought you’d be happy to hear that. It’s just like we used to talk about as kids, remember?” She sighed.

“I am happy. It’s just... I won’t be able to see you in the Upper Ring.”

“What? Why not?”

“People down here need a passport and approval to get up there. I don’t have either.”

“Oh,” he echoed her from earlier.

“Yeah.” They stopped outside her apartment and Kena avoided meeting his eyes. “But I am happy for you and Iroh. You both deserve better than this.”

He shook his head. “I don’t want it unless you’re with me. I can’t lose you now. Not again.”

She ignored the way her pulse jumped. “I’ll be okay.”

“I know you will, but I won’t. I- I need you, Kena,” he admitted, voice soft. “Finding you here is the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

“Zuko...”

“Come with us,” he said suddenly, standing in front of the entrance to her building and taking both her hands in his. She sent him a sad sort of smile.

“I can’t just up and leave, even though I want to stay with you.”

“Why?”

“What about Fera? She’s been with me since my mom died. I go to school, I have friends, a job... I’ve been here for years. I had to make a life for myself.” She felt bad when the excitement fell from his face, but she couldn’t just give up the little illusion of normalcy and stability she’d built here in the Lower Ring. It was what she’d craved after a life as a political prisoner and on the run with her mother, on her own, or with Fera.

“You’re right,” he finally said. “I’m sorry, that was selfish. I understand.” She stepped forwards and hugged him, burying her face into his neck and soaking in his warmth like she’d done in the sun earlier. Though he’d tensed at first, he slowly wrapped his arms around her in return and held her tight. He’d buried his craving for friendly, loving touch after his mother left and now that she was here again and offering it so freely, so genuinely, he felt the walls he’d built around himself crumbling. It scared — no, it terrified him to sense himself becoming more vulnerable again (something that had for so long felt all too much like weakness). If he had to be weak for someone, though, he was glad it was for Kena. She was one of only two people in his life who had never hurt him or lied to him or left him (she didn’t leave him, he’d rationalized long ago; she’d been taken away).

“You can still come see me down here,” she mumbled into his skin. “People of the Upper Ring can travel as they please.”

“Yeah, I’ll do that. I’ll come see you every day, even if it’s just for a little while.”

“Zuko, you don’t have to-“

“I know, but I want to. I don’t want to go another day without seeing you ever again.”

“So dramatic.” She rolled her eyes as she pulled back but beyond her teasing tone he could sense her gratitude.

“I’ve been told,” he chuckled.

“I’ll miss seeing you at Pao’s, though. You always looked so cute in your apron.”

His face went crimson. “I am not cute,” he muttered as she giggled.

“Are you hungry? You can come up for dinner, if you’d like.”

“I promised Uncle I’d help him make roast duck tonight to celebrate the new shop. Thanks, though. Another night,” he said as he stepped back from her. She smiled.

“Sure. I’ll see you tomorrow, then. I want to come by in the morning to see you and Iroh off before you move up the social ladder.”

He nodded in agreement and started to leave, but not before she grabbed him by the wrist and pulled him close again to kiss his cheek. She giggled when he flushed again, just as red as the day he gave her that fire lily. He opened his mouth, then closed it again, then mumbled something about seeing her tomorrow and hurried away as she laughed. She loved how easy it still was to get him flustered.

A sense of guilt gnawed away at his stomach as he walked back to his apartment. He felt bad about lying to her again, but he couldn’t exactly mention his plan to steal the sky bison as a means to capture the Avatar without admitting what he’d done over the last few years. He felt so conflicted as the two sides of him tore further apart — the side that wanted to be who Kena and Iroh thought him to be, and the side that still wanted to prove everyone wrong by bringing the Avatar back to the Fire Nation. Maybe he could make Kena understand; maybe she’d even go back with him. If he fulfilled his destiny, surely his father would let her stay.

When Kena made her way up to Zuko and Iroh’s apartment early the next morning, she found it already deserted. She frowned as she left, wandering into the street outside. Had she missed them already? Did they leave the night before for some reason? She couldn’t imagine why Zuko would lie to her about something so silly. All she wanted was to say goodbye, whether or not they were actually moving to the Upper Ring.

She walked to Pao’s and asked if he had seen them. At the mention of “Mushi,” the man went into a long-winded spiel about loyalty and betrayal that left her regretting her decision to ask. As politely as she could manage, she excused herself and left the premises. She desperately wished she could talk openly to someone about everything going on. At this point, she’d made up so many fake identities and backstories that it was sometimes hard to keep straight what was real and what was false, and who could know what about her various personas. At one point she’d considered writing it all down somewhere but that would be difficult to explain should anyone stumble across it. Only Fera knew what was happening, and even she was still in the dark about some things. Feeling a familiar sting of loneliness, Kena resigned herself to returning home to wait for Fera to get back from work so she could vent for a while.

Iroh sat by Zuko’s side for the entirety of the day, unable to sleep despite being awake through the night at Lake Logai. He watched his nephew twitch and sweat in his feverish dream state, pressing cloths soaked in cool water to his forehead through the hours. He could hardly even enjoy his tea as he waited for the prince to awaken. Every time his breathing changed, the older man would sit up at attention, watching with baited breath. It now neared sunset, and Zuko had still not opened his eyes.

Watching the sky change color through the window, he thought about rumors he had heard amongst the peoples of the Lower Ring about a benign spirit that visited at night. If one left a white candle burning in the window with a strip of blue cloth hung nearby, she was said to appear and heal the sick and injured. The people called her Tui’s Daughter. The stories reminded him vaguely of the legend of the Painted Lady from the Fire Nation. As he lit the candle, he hoped she would happen through the Upper Ring this night. Perhaps a visit from a spirit is exactly what the prince needed to help along his inner turmoil.

No matter what she did, Kena seemed entirely unable to fall asleep. She tossed and turned in her cot for what seemed like hours to no avail. Something still felt wrong about Zuko’s sudden disappearance, even after talking with Fera about how flaky and dishonest men could be. It was like an itch in the back of her skull that she couldn’t scratch and it her made her antsy and restless. She sighed in resolution and abandoned her attempts at sleep to dress in the bright moonlight pouring in through the window. She had to know he was alright, even if that meant he’d abandoned her.

As she came to the wall that closed off the Upper Ring, she kept to the shadows. The area was crawling with guards and surely Dai Li agents to keep the elite of Ba Sing Se secure and comfortable. She’d snuck into the Upper Ring only once before, and it was the closest she’d ever been to getting caught. She hoped the blind spot that opened during the shift rotation hadn’t been remedied yet, otherwise she’d have to take more drastic measures. Patiently, she waited for the opening.

The spirits must’ve been on her side that night because she was able to slip through into the Upper Ring with relative ease. That, or the Dai Li were occupied elsewhere. Whatever it was she was happy for it because now she was running through the pristine empty streets, searching for some sort of indication of where Zuko and Iroh may be. She didn’t know exactly what it was she was looking for, but her gut told her she’d know when she found it.

A flicker in her peripheral caught her eye and she whipped her head around. A few buildings away, a white candle burned in a window on one of the upper floors. She had to admit she was curious; The people of the Upper Ring rarely called on Tui’s Daughter because they could afford the best doctors Ba Sing Se had to offer. The spirit tended to stay in the poorer areas, especially in the refugee ghettos, because they needed her the most. Despite her desperation to find her friend, she moved towards the apartment with the candle.

Iroh immediately tensed when he heard a creak from the stairs leading up to their apartment. He hoped it was the spirit, but was ready to defend himself if need be. He hid himself from sight when the knob rattled and the front door slowly cracked open. Relief flooded his body when he saw the intruder donned a long, flowing white dress and a black smiling koi mask exactly as the rumors had described.

“Thank you for coming,” Iroh said as he emerged from his hiding spot. “My nephew is very ill, but I’m afraid it is not a natural sickness.”

The spirit had jumped into a defensive position when he spoke. Now that they stood facing each other in full view, she lowered her hands. As he looked on, the realization dawned that this was no spirit at all.

“Iroh?” the woman whispered and the old man hummed thoughtfully.

“I’ll admit I was doubtful about the rumors, but I can say I never expected you to be Tui’s Daughter.” Iroh moved closer and bowed his head in greeting. She ripped her mask off to reveal her face and Iroh smiled when he recognized her. “Hello, Kena.”

A/N: was originally going to end this at crossroads but this is long enough and also seems like a good stopping point for now. thank you all for the lovely response to the last part, yall made my heart uwu and i hope you liked this one just as much!

TAGS: @beifongsss @the-lva-way @lammello @llorom6nnic @idkdude776 @aangsupremacy @royahllty @mamooska8 @bucky-blogs @youneedmemanidonotneedyou @eridanuswave @rosetheshapeshifter @fantasticchaoticwho @bwndito @dancerslovelife @justab-eautifulmess @whalerus

#petrichor #mine #atla #avatar the last airbender #atla fic #atla fanfic #zuko #prince zuko #zuko x oc #prince zuko x oc #atla zuko #zuko fanfic #avatar fic #zuko fic #zuko x reader #prince zuko x reader #the last airbender

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mell-bell · 5 years

Text

Fight so dirty (but your love so sweet) - Part III

The Mandalorian x Reader

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 / Part 5 / Part 6 / Part 7 / Part 8

Words: 5135

Series Summary: You are sent to hunt down a Mandalorian, the odds aren’t exactly in your favor

Chapter: 3/8

Author’s notes: You guys are seriously the best thank you for reading!!! I love you all. When I first wrote this I thought it was gonna be short but once again it kinda imploded and thus 5000 but such is life. So sorry if there are spelling mistakes or such I’ve edited so many times I’m going crosseyed. I think I tagged everyone who asked, if not please just drop me a message! Hope you guys enjoy!!!!!

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“Hey, no! Put that down!”

A gruff shout pulled you from sleep.

With a groan, you rolled over burrowing back into the warm blanket, pulling the long sleeves of the shirt you had stolen over your frozen fingers.

That infuriating man refused to pay for any type of heating system on this ship, claiming his armor and your clothes would be enough to keep you both warm.

“Stop!”

A crash echoed from the front of the ship as if something had slammed into the front window.

Your eyes shot open, squinting against the sun shining into the room. You focused your eyes at the clock, groaning at the blinking numbers. You had only slept for two hours.

Ever since you had escaped from the Imperials and Stormtroopers almost a month ago, you had been jumping from planet to planet.

Two weeks ago, you had thought you found a safe place. But four days after your arrival, a mercenary had broken onto the ship, slipping through a panel in the dead of night. Mercifully, the Mandalorian had dealt with him quickly before any harm could be done. But when he showed you the fob, you knew they were still tracking the little green child.

It was then that you both decided someone should guard the ship at night. At first, the Mandalorian had claimed he would take every night and even though you knew better, you let him try. It wasn’t until two days later when he fell asleep in the middle of eating lunch that you told him you would be alternating nights.

And you had been on guard duty last night. The man and child sound asleep inside while you froze your ass off sitting outside the ship staring into the dark forest.

You landed here three days ago and although everything seemed quiet, you both knew not to risk it now.

Risk wasn’t in his vocabulary anymore. Your Mandalorian had basically become your shadow. Anytime you left the ship, he would be at your back.

At first, you found it annoying, but one day in a market, a stranger had grabbed onto your arm. And you almost snapped. If he hadn’t stepped between the two of you, you would have shot the innocent man. Now knowing that he was always just a step behind you was a weight off your chest.

Rolling out of bed, you pulled on some heavy socks grumbling at the fact that he had picked the one planet where it was heavily snowing. Running your hands over your eyes trying to rub the sleep from them, you began to make your way through the ship. As you grew closer to the cockpit you could hear muffled curses and continuous bangs.

“What on Hoth is all this racket-“ You froze, the words catching in your throat at the sight before you.

The Mandalorian was sprawled on the ground, tangled up in a net, his finger pointed sternly at the little green child perched on the pilot’s seat, who chirped excitedly when he saw you.

Your face broke out into a wide smile but before you could make a noise, the warrior moved his gaze toward you.

“Don’t even think about it.”

You nodded solemnly fighting back laughter, a small snort escaping before you turned on your heel and left the room.

Stepping to the side, out of sight, you listened quietly as the man continued to reprimand the little child quietly before explaining how to be safe around his weapons.

Still chuckling quietly to yourself, you made your way to the back of the ship where you had created a makeshift kitchen and dining area.

There was no way you were going back to bed now.

Life together had become somewhat of a domestic thing. This ship had become home. You had argued with the Mandalorian for days when he stated he was giving you his room. You had even slept in the cockpit one night just to spite him. But when he promised to build himself his own room, you finally relented.

Things between the two of you had taken some time to get back to normal. The guilt that had been eating away at the Mandalorian had faded. He didn’t tiptoe around you anymore. But you could see it in his movements and actions. He purposefully alerted you when he was around or how he never let you out of his sight. You were slowly moving on from what had happened to you. And for the most part, you had. But the lingering trauma was still there.

A quiet shuffle sounded behind you, alerting you to the child who waddled through the door. You reached down, passing him a bowl of soup. The child began to slurp happily, as you grabbed him placing him up on a chair at the table before turning back to finish cooking.

The little child had become a fixture in both of your lives. The child loved to hear you babble on about nothing. So, when you would work around the ship you would tell him what you were doing. Even the quiet warrior had begun to talk to him. Though it seemed like most of the time he was reprimanding him for touching things he shouldn’t.

“…Is that my shirt?” You heard a soft voice behind you.

Throwing a glance over your shoulder at the Mandalorian in the doorway, you chuckled, “That it is.”

“Why?”

Your brows furrowed confused at his statement, “What?”

“The shirt. Why are you wearing it?”

“It makes me feel safe.”

After a beat of silence and a slight tilt of the man’s head, you realized what you had said.

Stumbling over your words, you frantically sputtered out, “Nope, I mean the cold- uh, do you want some soup?”

You continued to babble about random things, making the small child chitter, all while ignoring the man who hadn’t moved an inch since you had spoken to him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“I need you to spar with me.”

You leaned against the opening of the back of the ship, looking down the ramp as the Mandalorian tinkered on an outdoor panel. He turned around and slowly looked you up and down. Instinctively, you stood up straighter.

He nodded, “Get dressed and let’s go.”

You had healed nicely. Your hands had healed rather quickly, barely scarred, the salve the Mandalorian rubbed on it each night saw to that. The scar on your stomach was no more than a fleeting memory. Your ribs, on the other hand, still tweaked here and there. But after a month of rest, you were getting antsy.

You hadn’t been able to keep up with your usual regime without injuring yourself further. You had ripped your stitches more than once lifting something too heavy. And you had even tried to do some pushups one day, but when the Mandalorian walked past just in time, he lifted your whole body up and placed you back on the bed with a stern warning to rest and heal.

But it had only been a month. You should be back in fighting shape in no time.

Five minutes later, you hit the ground with a thud and groaned. The Mandalorian gently kicked your side, prompting you to get up.

He held out his hand and you raised yours to his. But when you saw it shaking, you curled your fingers into a tight fist trying to brush it off and instead reached down to the ground to push yourself up.

As the Mandalorian put you through the motions, he did so slowly. You expected your muscles to do what they were used to. But your body was stiff and too slow.

As you tripped, and fell, and missed, you grew frustrated. You slammed to the ground again and again. Your body was screaming and when the man before you asked if you wanted to stop, you ignored him. You got to your feet, wiped the blood from your nose, and raised your arms to start again.

He hesitated.

But when he saw the determination in your eyes, he sighed and started back up.

He reached out to help every time you fell, but when you didn’t take his hand, he pulled back with a sigh and continued to attack you knocking you down over and over.

After completing the first few exercises, he chucked you a baton as he held out his own.

You started slowly as you felt your muscles begin to remember the exercises that had been drilled into your head. But you could feel him holding back. He wasn’t hitting you hard. And you purposefully gave him opportunities to take you down. But he didn’t.

You pushed him, “Come on, hit me. I can take it.”

“Stop.” He warned as you swung out at him wildly.

“I can take it.” You growled.

He shook his head, taking a step back as he dodged your aggressive attacks, “You just started training. You need to take it easy.”

You let out a grunt of annoyance as he easily ducked your baton again.

“You never had problems attacking me before. Don’t go easy on me now, I’m not gonna break.”

He shook his head as he slammed the baton down at you again. Your arm screamed under the pressure but you still pushed back at him.

“Come on.” You shouted, reaching out and shoving him back.

He swung out and soon you were going faster and hitting harder. Right. Left. Right. Duck. Jump.

You smiled as you landed a blow. And then another. But you had been overconfident. Without warning, just like he had done before, he kicked out your legs from beneath you.

You slammed to the ground and looked up just in time to see the baton coming down at your head.

Only you didn’t see the baton. You saw a stormtrooper’s gun. Your eyes slammed shut, and you flinched back, as you tried to sink into the ground. When nothing hit you, you relaxed minutely.

A gentle hand touched your arm and you shot to your feet, quickly backing away from the Mandalorian. He held out his hands in a peace offering, gently placing the baton on the ground.

“I don’t need your pity.” You spit out.

He took a step forward reaching out, but you pulled away and took off down the hall.

It wasn’t until a few hours later, when you were lying on the roof of the ship, looking at the stars, that he came to you.

He laid silently next to you, giving you the choice to start the conversation for yourself.

“I thought I was ready.” You whispered so quietly that when he didn’t respond you thought he hadn’t heard you. You sat up pulling your legs into your body, holding you shaking hands in tight fists.

“It’s going to take time.”

You pressed your shaking hands to your face, “We don’t have time. I need to be strong, not weak.”

He reached out, gently pulling your hands away from your face, covering your smaller ones in his, “You will be.”

You smiled, “Stronger than you?”

“I wouldn’t go that far.” He chuckled.

“You know one of these days I want to spar you without your armor and see how you hold up.” You teased pulling a hand back to poke at his chest plate.

“You couldn’t handle me.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

As the month drew to a close, you sat down to shift through the food and supply rations you had left. Jumping from planet to planet this past month, you hadn’t had time to check what you were low on.

You sat propped against the wall as you checked off the last box of supplies. Frowning down at the numbers in front of you, you quickly counted and rechecked finding that it hadn’t been an error on your part.

Dropping the pad to the ground, you groaned closing your eyes.

A soft coo sounded next to you, and you peeked, seeing the green child chittering in front of you.

“Hey, go get your dad will you?”

The green child chirped as he began to waddle away.

A few minutes later, footsteps echoed in the ship as they grew closer. You were still leaning against the ship, your eyes closed.

You didn’t give him a chance to speak.

“We need money. One of us needs to take a client on.”

“That’s not a good idea.”

“We’re running low on food. And supplies. We’re not going to last another month. I know it’s a risk but it’s one we have to take.”

The man sighed. And you opened your eyes, smiling when you saw the child resting happily in his arms.

“Fine.”

“Great!” You smiled jumping up, “I know just the place to go.”

A few hours later, the Mandalorian landed the ship on the outskirts of a forest.

Pulling on your red cape, you skipped happily past the warrior and child on the way down the ramp, “It’s nice to be back.”

This planet was a happy reprieve to the desolate snow planet you had just been on. The forest was in bloom in colorful flowers, the green of the trees brightening up the world around you. Taking a deep breath, you walked slowly along the trail, smiling at the chirping animals in the trees. The Mandalorian was on edge as he followed behind you, looking left and right as if he expected an enemy to come flying out of the trees.

“You said you had contacts here.” His voice steady, but you know he was wary of trusting anyone.

You nodded, “When I worked with Commander Trax, she sent me here for a long mission, I lived here for a month helping the citizens.”

Stopping at a tree abloom with bright yellow flowers, you smiled pulling a few off the twigs. You turned with a smile and bent down passing one to the little green child, motioning that he could eat it. And soon he was chomping down making happy little sounds, as you all continued along through the forest.

“Where are we going?”

“The cantina. If there’s any work under the table, it will be there. And hopefully, we’ll find my contact there. Easier than having to knock on every single door in town.”

As you reached the end of the tree line, the Mandalorian passed you one of his blasters. You rolled your eyes but shoved it in the back of your pants before you took off down the street.

It looked exactly the same. The town was small but homely. The market place bustling with merchants and buyers. You had loved living here.

As you continued down the street, you waved at the citizens you passed by. A few recognized you and greeted you by name, welcoming you back.

The Mandalorian walked slowly behind you, the child at his side. People passing by said hello and he offered each of them a solemn nod.

When you reached the door to the cantina, you waved back at the warrior silently telling him to remain behind. But when you walked through the door and all the blasters went up, you sighed.

The Mandalorian stepped in front of the small child and pushed you behind him, his own blaster raising as his gaze scanned the bar.

You moved around him, pushing his blaster down, “He’s a friend. I promise. I’m looking for Nyko.”

Murmurs echoed through the crowd of people before suddenly everyone parted and a woman walked toward you.

You smiled and the older woman smiled widely in return, “Well look who it is!”

She waved at the other’s to drop their weapons. Everybody obeyed and immediately turned back to their own conversations, though they were still throwing wary glances at the Mandalorian, who had moved to stand silently in the corner.

The woman walked right up to you, pulling you into a hug.

“Long time no see. What are you doing here? With a Mandalorian no less.”

You nodded toward the back corner, and she responded by placing her arm around your shoulders leading you to the furthest table in the back. Your Mandalorian followed behind you like a shadow.

“We’re looking for work under the table.”

Nyko nodded solemnly, this was business, “I’m assuming it has to do with that little green fellow.”

The Mandalorian started forward but you held up a hand.

“Yes.”

Nyko nodded, “I can probably find you something, but I’ll warn you things in the underworld work differently then you’re used to around here. You’re going to need to Compete if you want to work.”

You stiffened slightly and the Mandalorian stepped closer to you.

“Got yourself a watchdog here.”

“More like a partner.”

Nyko eyed the man curiously before she waved her hand, and people appeared out of the woodwork, joining you at the table.

Papers were passed around and introductions were made.

The Mandalorian watched in amazement as all the citizens looked and talked to you with respect.

You seemed to fit in nicely here. You looked happy.

You nodded one more time and gathered all the intel of the table, holding out your arm you waited and Nyko grabbed yours.

“Don’t wait five years next time you stop by to say hello. I wish you luck in the Competition.”

You smirked and her eyes glinted as she knew it was all but a joke to you.

Stepping out of the cantina, you began to walk back toward the ship, the Mandalorian and green child following behind. As you walked, you passed him the map Nyko had given you.

“We’re going to meet here. Gather your weapons. I will meet you once I stop by a few places to grab some supplies.”

You went to step away but a hand grabbed onto you.

“Be careful.” His voice was deep with worry.

You knew he had heard Nyko mention the Competition.

“You don’t need to worry about me here.” You offered him a sad smile.

You walked down the street missing the soft, “But I do” that fell from his lips.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You hadn’t been out of sight from your Mandalorian since you got back, and it put you on edge. Although you knew this was a safe town you couldn’t help the lingering feeling that someone was going to come out of the shadows.

As you reached the outskirts of town, you reached back making sure your blaster was easily accessible. With a deep breath, you followed Nyko’s directions through the trees. Left. Left. Right. Over the bridge. Right at the yellow tree.

The Competition was infamous around here. Hunters would step forward to compete. To decide who would be given the bounty. The winner’s reward was the puck.

Your red cape swept behind you as you pushed your way through the crowds of people. There was a reason you didn’t want him here with you. Didn’t want him to see you this way.

You shouldered another person out of the way, growling when they turned around to look at you. This was a big event. Bets were placed. Winners were rigged.

But you were here to win.

You stalked up to the table in the center, people moving out of your way when they saw your red cape float out behind you.

With a grin, you shoved your way to the front of the line, pushing the man in front out of the way you slammed your hand down on the table, “I’d like to enter.”

The man behind the desk sneered at you, but that quickly changed when you placed a heavy bag of coins in front of him.

Passing you a number, he took your coins testing the weight in his hand, “Good luck.”

“I won’t need it.”

You had only competed in a Competition once before, but this one was different. There weren’t any rules. People died here. You could kill, maim, and still win.

As you stood in line with the nine other contestants, you found maybe one or two that would cause you some trouble. A man twice your size, with a knife peeking out from his sleeve. And a woman small and slim, with a wicked grin on her face, you knew a mercenary when you saw one.

The first task was easy enough. Target practice.

Top five moved on.

You took your turns throwing well, until the last shot when you purposefully missed a target.

The man next to you snorted and you feigned defeat.

Next was an agility competition.

You had never jumped on these so-called agility poles before, but your quick footwork from the workouts the Mandalorian put you through helped you fly through.

It was down to two.

You and the man with the knife.

The last task. The cage fight.

You swallowed as the mixture of cheers and boos echoed throughout the cold room, the cage closing in around the two of you.

Pulling off your cape, you quickly wrapped your hands before facing the man who stood in the way of your bounty puck.

The bell rang and with a feral grin, you launched yourself at your opponent.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You arrived back at the ship, limping slightly, sporting a wide grin on your face.

The Mandalorian looked up and when he caught sight of you, stood quickly walking over, lifting your chin so he could see the growing bruise on your cheek.

You waved him off, “I’m fine.” You pressed the puck in his hand. “I’m gonna go clean up, you look into that.”

The man watched worriedly as you limped your way up the ramp.

After cleaning up, you met the warrior at the base of the ramp, he was packed and ready to go. Grabbing your pack from him, you swung it over your shoulder before following him back into town.

He worked quickly. In the few minutes you had taken to get ready, he had already scouted out where your bounty was located.

Motioning for you to do the honors, you kicked in the door. The dozen people in the room began to scatter, tripping over each other to reach the door. Pulling out your baton \, you began to knock their legs out from beneath them, only moving on when you didn’t see the face from the puck.

You grabbed the shirt of a man, hauling him to his feet, “Where is the man named Ronzan?”

The man frantically motioned to the back door. The Mandalorian shuffled over silently, his blaster raised as he kicked open the door. A scream sounded from inside and you grinned, letting the man from your grip go.

The man, known as Ronzan, was on the ground pleading with the Mandalorian standing over him.

Ronzan froze when he saw you, “I have money please.” He begged.

You rolled your eyes before reaching out and shocking the man, who fell back to the ground unconscious.

“You’re carrying him.” The Mandalorian stated, prodding the man’s body with his boot.

You looked down at the man and sighed. Reaching down you were about to haul him up when you heard a whimper echo in the room.

Furrowing your brow you began to look around the room. Pushing a desk against the wall, you pulled back the rug to find a hatch in the ground. With a quick whistle, you motioned to the Mandalorian in the corner to help you pry up the hatch.

The hole that opened up was dark and deep, the whimpers you had heard echoing from below. Reaching out, you grabbed onto the Mandalorian’s hand before stepping over the edge. The man slowly lowered you down into the dark hole. When your feet still didn’t touch the ground, you braced yourself. You squeezed his hand once and he let you drop.

You fell far, rolling once, twice, before pushing yourself to your feet. Reaching for the walls, you began to walk slowly, letting your eyes adjust to the darkness around you.

“Hello?” You called out.

You continued walking when you suddenly tripped over a chain on the ground. Reaching out to grab it, you held it as you followed it. And at the end, you found a young girl.

“Hey...”

The girl flinched backward as you reached out. You hesitated. Reaching down you pulled a tool from your pack using it to snap the chain off.

“He can’t hurt you anymore. We need to go.” You pulled the girl up, she was freezing. She wrapped her arms around you and you held her close as you led her down the cold hall.

When you made it back to the hole above, you saw the Mandalorian looking down. He vanished from view and a second later, dropped down a rope that had knots tied in it.

Placing the young girl's hands on it, you prompted her to start climbing.

When she was close enough to the top, the Mandalorian above reached down grabbing onto the girl, pulling her up easily.

The young girl looked up at the warrior in awe, her hands hesitantly reaching out to touch the cool metal of his armor.

You pulled yourself to the surface just in time to see the young girl reach up to touch the Mandalorian’s helmet. The man flinched back and the girl shot back cowering in on herself.

You rushed forward, pulling the girl over to a bench, where you kneeled down in front of her.

“He’s a friend. A Mandalorian. Do you know what that is?” You prompted.

The girl shook her head, throwing a nervous gaze at the armored man.

You offered her a smile, “Well, he’s one of the best warriors in the galaxy. He can’t take off his helmet because if he does he won’t be allowed to put it back on. And doesn’t he just look dashing in it?”

You waited for the girl to nod her head.

“Alright, well I think it’s time to go.” You held out your hand, waiting for the girl to take it.

You motioned to the man in the corner, and you could feel the glare the Mandalorian gave you underneath his helmet as he lifted up throwing the unconscious man over his shoulder.

The trek back to the underworld was long. But a little less than an hour later, you had dropped off the unconscious male and received notice that the credits would be transferred to you.

On the way back to town through the forest, the young girl began to chitter on in a different language, you nodded your head along with her every time she looked at you.

When you reached the bustling town, you leaned down to the girl, “Do you recognize this place? Does your family live here?”

The girl nodded and began to drag you through the crowds. When she reached a small hut at the edge of town, she burst through the door. Inside you heard the clatter of objects and multiple gasps and shouts.

You cautiously stepped through the doorway to find the young girl in the arms of an older woman. You stepped forward, startling the woman, but when the younger girl began to speak in a different language to her mother, she relaxed.

Reaching out, she grabbed your hand tight, “Thank you, for saving my daughter.”

You offered her a smile, as you gazed around the small hut, the open room scarce of belongings, a cluster of young children crowded together on a bed in the corner.

Clearing your throat, you motioned to the older woman, “If you wouldn’t mind, I have something I would like to show you.”

The woman nodded slowly confused, but quickly gathered her children and followed you out the door.

On the other side of town, you unlocked the door to a small house that had long since been boarded up. The woman and her children stepped through the doorway. The youngest took a step forward, throwing a glance back at you, but when you just nodded at him he smiled before taking off to explore the new house.

“What is this place?” The Mandalorian wandered around the room, his hands drifting over knickknacks on the tables. He stopped in front of the fireplace when something caught his gaze. He stepped forward, reaching out and grabbing a photo propped on the mantel. It was you.

“This is where I used to live.”

You looked down at the key in your hand before turning to the young girl beside you, “This is yours now.”

The girl wrapped herself around you thanking you profusely. Her mother tried to resist but you assured her that you knew it would be in good hands. She promised to keep the door open if you ever wanted to come back.

You nodded as you slipped a piece of paper with your contact information into her hand, “If you ever need anything.”

She nodded tears in her eyes.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“How did- why-“ The man was at a loss for words as you walked back to the ship.

“After my parents died, before I worked for Commander Trax, a man like that owned me. I got hired to do some work at a young age and got in too deep before I realized he had complete control of me. Commander Trax saved me.”

The man nodded, “You changed their lives.”

You knew.

“I never told you about my helmet, how did-?”

You cut him off, “I worked with a Mandalorian in the past. I learned a lot from him. He told me about many of your beliefs. That’s why I never pried. It’s your right.”

The rest of the walk was made in silence.

When you finally made it back to ship, you paid the woman Nyko had hired to watch the little green child.

She happily passed him over, claiming he had caused too much chaos and that she was sorry for the mess he had caused on the ship.

The child settled comfortably in your arms as he chittered excitedly. You spoke softly to him in return.

As you began to climb the ramp, the Mandalorian reached out grabbing your arm, “Thank you.”

You shot him a smile.

Later that night, you were lying on the top of the ship staring at the stars. The transfer had gone through, the credits now officially yours. You had been paid handsomely.

Soft footsteps vibrated against the metal of the ship as the man settled beside you, “You could be happy here.”

“I could.” You agreed.

“You could s-“

You sat up abruptly before he could finish his sentence and he followed. Turning to look at him, you leaned over pressing your lips to the cold metal of his helmet.

“You’re crazy if you think I’m going anywhere.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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klbmsw · 4 years

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Thomas Clay-

· There's a reason why we can't have nice things in this country. Our roads and bridges are falling apart. Our electrical grid is so antiquated that if most civilians understood how bad it really is, there would be drastic measures taken. There are a whole variety of cybercrimes that happen every single day including child sex trafficking that we can't even get the house or senate to address because Republicans would rather litigate Roe vs. Wade every election cycle than to accomplish anything real or meaningful that would make life better for the American people. Truly, I say this in all honesty and the utmost contempt, if any Republican wanted to help their fellow countrymen then they'd find the nearest pool of water and drown themselves. Of course Republicans are too heartless and selfish to do anything for the good of the country or their fellow man. As you can tell, I've become a bit more ornery the past three and a half years but the last week or so has put me in a lather of murderous rage after the Scumbag-in-Chief had the unmitigated gall to claim Kamala wasn't 'qualified' to be Veep while his toady DeJoy is dismantling our post office to prevent people from exercising their right to vote in the vain hope of helping Dumbfuckitus get re-elected. Anyone seen any Republicans saying this isn't okay? That slowing down the mail on purpose is keeping our veterans from getting their meds on time? Anyone remember the apoplectic rage seizures Republicans were having when Clinton pardoned Marc Rich? Or how silent they are now after he commutes Roger Stone's sentence?What I am grateful to Trump for is proving me right to all of my friends who would say to me, 'Oh Thomas! Republicans aren't as bad as you're saying they are! It's just a difference of opinion but we're all Americans in the end.' Well how'd that turn out for ya hmm?Republicans will lie about anything, cheat as the day is long and steal as much as they possibly can from future generation who will just have to listen to The Black Keys' 'I Got Mine' and suck it because doing anything for anyone else is anathema to the black hearts that pump the slime of sedition through their veins. Trump has known since before the election that Russia was interfering in our election to benefit him alone and after the election he promised to have a commission look into it. What's he done to keep a foreign country from undermining our Republic again? Well besides not a damn thing, he's floating the turd of an idea that he should have Putin come to Washington so he can show how 'tough he is on Russia.' It's enough to make even the grossest flatterer nauseous. If Republicans gave one solitary frig about a fair election, we could have block-chain electronic voting. Block-chain encryption is what Bitcoin uses and it is quite simply impossible to hack. It is impossible to forge or tamper with. Each nonce and hash created in a block chain is unique like a social security number. To give you some idea how big a 256 bit encryption chain is, when Alan Turing was trying to crack the German Enigma machine, the possibilities of finding the key were one in 158 million million million combinations or a trillion million. The numbers to a 256 bit encryption are so large they would make Kurt Gödel crosseyed. The technology exist right now for all Americans to vote instantly and safely. We would have all of votes counted instantly and we could declare a winner as soon as the last poll closed. But we can't have nice things like that because 5% of the population controls 40 senate seats which are you guessed it, Republicans. Republicans have no interests in a free and fair election because they know if they had to compete by winning a simple majority vote, they would be in a permanent minority. That's why scumbags like Brian Kemp and Ron DeSantis do everything they possibly can to keep black people from voting.Black people aren't their only problem come November. Right now Joe Biden leads Trump among Latinos 59% to 31% and naturally you would wonder how any Latino could support Trump. It's no different than chickens voting for Colonel Sanders but that's not important. What is important is that there are over 8 million newly registered latino voters in the United States, 2 million in Texas alone. I might be telling tales out of school but I don't think Latinos are much happy with Stephen Miller's nazi policies towards them. Think what you want but Trump is not trying to sabotage the Postal Service and constantly whining about imaginary voter fraud because he's not worried about winning this election. He's good and scared and he should be because as dumb as Trump is, he is well aware of what Attorney General Adam Schiff is going to do to his felonious ass! He can sign as many pardons for his friends and family as he wants but you can't pardon someone for charges that haven't been filed yet. If we ever hope to rebuild what's left of our self-respect as a nation then Donald John Trump must spend the rest of his god-forsaken life in prison for the crimes he's committed against the people and our Republic. For all you namby pamby democrats who still soil your honor by speaking to Republicans, just remember this; Republicans are nihilistic lying scumbags who should be afforded the same deference we grant syphilis and pederast. You best get that straight NOW before you start telling your 'friends', "it's got what plants need' because I am damn sick of having that orange shit-demon in my life and anyone who isn't on the Fuck Trump Train is a mortal enemy to all that's right and good about the United States and we must all be ready to raze the earth to remove that petulant miscreant from our house come hell or high water on November the 3rd.If you'd like to help me keep shoving a harpoon into Fat Nixon's ass, please join my patreon for a paltry $1 a month. Thanks. https://www.patreon.com/thomasclayjr

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shewhoridesonrainbows · 5 years

Text

Words Upon Your Skin - Ch. 2

AO3

Chapter 1 * Chapter 2 * Chapter 3 * Chapter 4

Marinette was stressed.

It was four weeks and three days since someone stole the Butterfly and Peacock Miraculous from top fashion designer, Gabriel Agreste, and his assistant, Nathalie Sancoeur. Neither of the former-villains remember anything from the last five months and, until the Miraculous Heroes get to the bottom of it, they were keeping the identities of Hawkmoth and Mayura close to the vest.

Another thing the heroes were hiding was the truth about Mme. Agreste. The official story was that she had been a Jane Doe in another country after an accident and Gabriel had only recently found her. After Ladybug told Gabriel what the consequences of his wish would've been he agreed to put her in the best hospital in Paris.

Marinette growled as she ran her fingers roughly through her hair, halfway undoing the braid she'd put her hair in that morning. Her last year in school was starting soon and all she could do was worry about the Thief.

Why did they take the brooches? How did they find Hawkmoth's lair? What's their plan? WHO ARE THEY? Are they biding their time, learning how to use the Miraculous? She didn’t even have Master Fu to help anymore since he had used the last of the magic keeping him alive to erase Gabriel and Natalie’s minds of anything dealing with the Miraculous.

"UGH! I'M GOING TO GO CRAZY THINKING ABOUT THIS!" The sudden shout startled Tikki and Plagg, who were both curled up napping together in the windowsill.

As soon as they were able to find time alone that disastrous day, Marinette had revealed herself to Adrien. Tears were shed, hugs happened. They'd even tried dating for a brief (very brief) time but quickly realized that neither of them were in the emotional headspace to be anything other than friends with the other. And they both really needed a friend.

Which is why Adrien was currently sprawled out on her chaise, headphones on and blasting the latest Jagged Stone album. One of her old magazines blocking his face from view.

"C'mon Lil' Bug," Plagg yawned, "I was in the middle of such a nice dream." The God of Destruction floated down to her, landing on top of her head and curling up. "I was surrounded by cheese..."

Tikki watched her Chosen as Plagg rambled on about his dumb cheese dream. She knew that Plagg and her balanced each other out, that all of her Bugs needed one of Plagg's Kittens so they wouldn't burn themselves out. Plagg was doing his best to lighten Marinette's mood but what she really needed was the boy that was trying to deafen himself if the noise coming from those headphones were anything to go by.

While Marinette was distracted by Plagg, Tikki zipped across the room to get Adrien's attention. She hovered right between the blond's nose and the magazine in front of him, green eyes going crosseyed to look at her. Tikki motioned for him to turn the music off so they could talk.

"What's-" he started, but Tikki shushed him. He tried again in a whisper, "What's up Tikki?" He leaned forward to close the distance and set the magazine down.

"Marinette is seriously stressed out!" It almost sounded like a hiss. "The Thief is all she can think about and if you don't take that girl out and do something fun, Right. Now. I will personally make sure you'll never find you left socks ever again."

"Tikki, socks aren't left or right, they're for both feet," Adrien chuckled. He made the mistake of thinking Tikki was joking. Hint: she wasn't.

The tiny red Goddess started to vibrate, magic slowly being released from her body.

"Do you want to test me, Adrien Agreste?" Eyes wide and barely able to swallow down fear, Adrien stood up abruptly.

"Come on, Marinette," he said a tad too brightly to be completely real, "Let's go get ice-cream and maybe we'll hit up that fabric store you like!"

"What are y-" Marinette didn't finish her question before Adrien was grabbing her wrist and dragging her down the stairs. The Kwamii quickly sped after the teens, zipping into Marinette’s purse as she grabbed it from the hook by the door. Adrien and Marinette were on the street before he slowed down long enough to look back at her.

“Sorry about that Mari, but you’re stressing way too much to be healthy so you need an afternoon off.” Adrien pulled his phone out of his pocket and quickly typed up Andre’s Ice-Cream. “And hey, Andre’s cart is close by, we won’t even have to walk far.”

Marinette relaxed just a teensy bit at how caring her Chaton was. Of course she’d noticed that Tikki had said something to her partner, and by his sudden eagerness for ice-cream Marinette could guess the gist of what that ‘something’ was, but she could still feel the love from both of them.

“Alright, but slow down, Kitty,” she smiled, “I’d still like my arm attached.” That got Adrien to stop completely and they both looked down at the grip he had around her wrist.

“Oh,” he winced and let go. She rolled her shoulder as he continued, “I’m sorry, Bugaboo. Guess I got a little overzealous.”

“It’s ok.” Marinette glanced ahead and could see the ice-cream cart on the corner at the end of the street. She looked back at Adrien and grinned. “Bet I can get to Andre first.”

He turned around, grinned back at Marinette, then stepped backwards to line up with where she stood. “And what do I win when you don’t?”

She stretched her legs as she thought about a worthy prize. “Well,” he started limbering up too, “on the off chance that you beat me, I promise that we can have a full day of no Thief talk. Just us, some video games that I’ll definitely beat you at, and all the leftover pastries we can eat.” They both straightened and Adrien reached his hand out.

“I like that idea, and if you win I’ll buy every bit of supplies you’ll need for your next three projects.”

Marinette’s grin widened as she shook his hand, “Prepare for your wallet to lighten considerably, Agreste.”

With the conditions agreed upon they hadn’t even let go of the other’s hand completely before taking off. Adrien had long legs but Marinette was quicker on her feet so she shot passed him immediately. She laughed as she drew closer to the ice cream cart, just inches ahead of the other but stumbled to a stop when she heard the voices coming from around the corner. Adrien had just enough time to give her a startled look before running straight into a group of girls that had appeared from around the building. He knocked over the leader of the pack and they both fell to the ground in a tangle of limbs.

Apologies started to form on his lips as he jumped back and stood up, until he got a good look at the girl. There, still lying on the ground, was Lila Rossi. Her hair was shorter but it was definitely her. Adrien took a quick moment to bemoan his bad luck before shoving down the voice in his head that was telling him to let the liar stay on the ground. He put on his most forced smile and reached towards her. “I’m sorry, Lila, I didn’t see you in time.”

Lila smiled sweetly back at him and grasped the offered hand, pulling herself up.

“It’s ok, Adrien,” she started. “I know how good Andre’s ice cream tastes and I’d be running to it too,” she paused then began to rub at her ankle, “if I hadn’t twisted my ankle while I was in Gotham.”

“Really?” came Rose’s voice. Adrien looked over at the rest of the group, all of them were the girls from his class. “What happened?”

Adrien could feel three pairs of eyes roll behind him as Marinette stepped forward to stand at his side. Eye contact with Mari confirmed that they both knew what was going to happen next. Here comes some long winded tale about how Lila tripped while saving some celebrity’s hamster or something.

“Well,” Lila began as everyone was served ice cream from Andre, of course Adrien and Marinette were shoved to the back of the line. “As you know, my mother is a diplomat so I was touring America with her during our summer vacation. During our stop in Gotham, which is such a beautiful city by the way, I was caught up in a villain attack.” Lila paused a second for her audience to gasp.

“I know, I know. It was scary. Especially since Ladybug wasn’t there to be able to Cure everything. My mother and I were dining with Bruce Wayne and his family when the windows were shattered. Everything was a bit of a blur but the next thing I knew Scarecrow had grabbed me by my ponytail and was about to inject me with his Scare Toxin. Luckily I noticed a knife from the table had fallen close to me so I grabbed it and sacrificed my hair so I could get away.”

There was a chorus of ‘oh no’s from the other girls. Except for Mari. Mari had to hold back a snort because Adrien had leaned over and whispered, “Like Sakura during the Chunin Exams?” in her ear.

Lila was still smugly going on.

“I twisted my ankle when Scarecrow lunged at me, making me trip over a chair. Lucky for me Batman and one of his sidekicks swung in and saved the day. He told me that cutting my hair saved my life and might’ve saved everyone else’s because it distracted Scarecrow long enough for Batman to get there.”

Lila sat back and took in all the oo’s and ah’s from the group around her. Alya grabbed Lila’s attention and asked, “Can I interview you again for the Ladyblog?”

“Of course you can,” Lila smiled. “I’ll try to fit it in my schedule, I met my soulmate while I was there and Dami likes to take up a lot of my time. I was actually in Gotham to meet him in the first place.”

The mention of soulmates had Rose almost frothing at the mouth.

“Oh my god how romantic!” she grabbed a hold of Juleka’s hand and beamed at her girlfriend. “Remember when we met and found out we were meant to be?” The taller nodded but Lila coughed gently to get everyone’s attention again.

“Yeah, it was really special, how Dami and I figured it out. It was right after the attack and Dami asked for my number, he said he wanted to be able to check up on me but it was obvious that he had fallen for me. So when he wrote my number on his hand and it appeared on mine too we knew we’d found our soulmates in each other.”

“Wait,” someone piped up from the other side, “he was at the restaurant during the attack?”

Lila feigned surprise, “I’m sorry I keep forgetting only those close to him call him ‘Dami’.” She giggled a little. “I told you I was dining with the Wayne family, my soulmate is Damian Wayne.”

Marinette almost gagged. Of course, Lila was claiming to be soulmates with the heir to some huge fortune an ocean away. Marinette tugged on Adrien’s sleeve.

“Come on, I don’t feel like ice-cream today,” she said when he looked down at her. She smiled weakly and continued, “Besides, you won the race so what do you say to starting my winning streak early?” She knew he could see through her but she knew he’d go along with it if only to get her away from Lila.

“Sure thing, Buginette.” And, without another word, they turned around and walked back to the bakery, leaving Lila to spin her tales to those that had refused to listen to Marinette a year ago.

Marinette felt safe to vent halfway down the street. Adrien nodded along because he knew she needed to let out some steam.

“Lila is so easy to prove wrong,” she began. “Like, all they need to do is look up anything about a Scarecrow attack over the summer and bam!” Marinette clapped her hands together. “But nooo, they're just going to believe the story. I love them but sometimes they’re about as dumb as a box of hair.”

Marinette waved her hands around during her rant and something caught Adrien’s eye. His focused zeroed in on the marks on her left arm.

“Mari, hold on a sec,” he said, grabbing her wrist for the second time that day.

“What is it?”

“Was this here earlier?” They both examined the words written on her arm. Her eyes went wide.

“No,” she squeaked out and looked back up at her partner. “Adrien does this…”

He grinned at her. “Marinette, you’re soulmate wrote to you.”

They must’ve broken records with how quickly they ran back to Marinette’s house, desperate to get to her computer. After a quick Google, it looked like “11pm Pier 5 Bring Titus” didn’t mean jack shit without a specific city to go with it. Adrien pushed himself away from the desk with a frustrated sigh.

“Looks like you’ll just have to write them back and ask what they meant,” Adrien stated. He turned and looked at Mari sitting on the chaise, analyzing her arm as the writing faded. She hadn’t said a word since the markings first appeared. “What’s wrong Bugaboo?”

She finally tore her gaze away from her (now clear) skin. Her voice was barely a whisper, “This is the first time my soulmate has ever written me.”

Adrien was startled by this.

“You’ve never had even a dot appear?”

“Never,” she shook her head.

“What kid never draws on themselves? Hell, even I doodled on my arm at one point and you know how Gabe is.”

The thought made Marinette wince. “What kind of parents do they have that they were never able to even try to contact me?”

They sat in silence until Mari jumped up and grabbed the nearest pen with a determined expression. “Well, whatever life they had before this is over, they’re going to have so much support and encouragement from me their arms will look like those inspirational posters.”

Adrien could only smile as his lady got to work scribbling on her arms.

#maribat #daminette #fanfic #words upon your skin

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spnsmile · 5 years

Text

SPN CODA 15X13

“Hey, what’s going on?” Dean calls when he spots Cas and Jack preoccupied with the table.

“Oh.” the Nephilim flickers dull, soulless eyes over the hunters who just came back from a wild goose chase.

“Jack-” Castiel begins warily but too late.

“Cas was just telling me to eat his heart.”

Absolute silence reigns in the Bunker. A stillness too painful with hiking tension and pounding of hearts.

Jack couldn’t possibly understand it, but the way he saw how Dean had looked at Castiel scared him. Sam’s stare was pure bafflement, but Dean’s?

It was indescribable. The Nephilim couldn’t even put it into words. What was it that made him wary of Dean when he woke him up inside the cowboy room?

That feeling with a gun pointed on his head? It’s the same feeling except… Dean didn’t need his gun to have the same effect. The Nephilim couldn’t help glancing at the angel who tried to keep up with the hunter in a battle of eye contact, but he soon failed. And when Cas fails to have eye contact with Dean? There’s that one word that popped up his head and it spelled one thing.

Disaster.

It’s Sam. It’s always Sam who breaks the ice and for that, Jack will always be grateful.

“Cas, that’s not helping.”

Castiel diverts his eyes to Sam with tightness on his throat. “I know, I just…”

“He did tell me it’s only for the last resort.” Jack pipes up, trying to be helpful. He wondered if it was, but the way Dean’s eyes glints dangerously in his direction has him clamping his mouth. It’s like that gun again, heavy and… Much more. But Dean’s expression closes at once and he is turning away before anyone can speak again.

“Great. Uh, yeah you guys have some good talk. I’m gonna go take a shower.” he waves his hand and goes, leaving Sam sighing heavily while Castiel swallows hard.

Very hard. And then the angel just stands up too and trails after Dean’s footsteps. Jack exhales so loud and leans back on his chair with large eyes at the entrance to the corridor where Castiel’s back disappeared.

He turns to Sam with dry lips.

“That was… Scary.” he shifts on his chair while Sam slowly takes the space Castiel just left. By the looks of his face, Sam has plenty to say and Jack would rather have that than Dean’s whose silence can kill.

“Jack… Let’s talk.”

***

The footsteps in the corridor are heavy. The scurrying footsteps behind him are lighter and barely touching the floor with his pace.

“Dean-”

No answer.

“Dean!”

The hunter doesn’t bother as he turns to the next corridor till he’s in front of his room. He pulls on the doorknob when a hand slams it shut from his back.

Castiel finally catches up behind him.

Dean grits his teeth but he doesn’t turn. He closes his eyes patiently with a throbbing vein at the side of his head. He gotta cool it down.

“Cas, I want to enter my room.”

“Dean, I-” Castiel’s voice is all over the place the way it cracks and hesitates over his words.

That’s unfair. He shouldn’t be the one feeling broken. Dean hates the shaken tone. The way it sounded to him, Cas was certain wit what he wanted to happen.

“Your hand. Take it off, I want in.”

“Dean, you know I only said that as a last consent in case there’s no other choice. And I-”

“It’s okay. I get what you want to do.” Dean opens his eyes.

Clarity is there. Cas is doing, saying what he thinks must be done. And Cas has always been right about stuff, always looking far ahead unlike him who can only see as far as his shoes, only live in the moment and act at the moment.

If it’s being objective compare to being emotionally controlled, then it’s probably Cas who gets the right call.

Dean isn’t good when it comes to his priorities and he thinks he never will be, so he left the table before he could say anything horrible.

He’s done being horrible to Cas.

“Dean, let me at least explain. It’s not anything sacrificial or me throwing myself away-”

“Dean…”

“It’s alright, I just gotta sort stuff.” he can’t look Cas in the eyes. He chews his dried lips and at least gives a side glance to his best friend. “It’s fine, Cas… I’m not…”

“I still want to talk,” Cas says quickly, eagerly.

“Fine. Talk."

Cas seems ready for the crossfire. He never did back down from the hunter.

"Dean, you're angry about the "heart but it isn't what you think it is."

"Oh sure. Because there's a metaphor for offering their hearts to get eaten! Jack said it clear! How else am I supposed to interpret that, Cas!?" Dean bites down his bottom lip tight. The pain doesn't even register, he could make it bleed and it wouldn't make a difference.

What bothers him is the angel still acting like it's no big deal.

"This heart thing isn't a coincidence. Just how many angels do you think are still out there?" Cas doesn't even know any pedal breaks and Dean's just itching to tackle him but at that closed space?

"Yeah, noticed that huh? Good. Spot on."

Castiel frowns while he clasps his hands together.

"I think we would be blinding ourselves at the possibility. But, it's as Jack said... it's a last resort if needed be, Dean and I... I am just as much willing to bet my life on Jack if that's what it takes to win."

A win. Dean hung his head as he remembers. This isn't just about them anymore.

"I know." he just nods again, throat burning like he's just taken the strongest whiskey. A win they needed badly where sacrifices will happen. How could he forget? "I know," he repeats more firmly with heart sinking.

"If you know..." Cas tilts his head, voice gravelly. "Then why are you still angry?"

"I'm not. I mean... What do you want me to say?" he flickers a lookup, the force in the meeting of their eyes are full static this time, silent with intensity and meaning but its the quiver of resignation in his deep voice that gets Cas leaning forward with all intent to invade space.

"At least don't leave me behind. Stop walking away from me while we're both here." Castiel says behind his ears and the shiver that runs on his spine jolting a reaction over his pants. "I'm trying here, Dean."

Try harder." Dean's voice is rough as he wills calm, summon it with all his heart for his body to stop aching for touch.

"Dean..." Cas's voice now turns resigned and it's unfair. Dean turns his head from the front seat and locks eyes with the angel and just lets him see everything. It's futile to pretend a wall still exists between them. Not with the pooling heat inside his jeans.

Not that he needed Cas to know...

"I'm not angry that you think you have to make that call... Hell, every year I make one single wish you and Sam would kill me."

"Dean-" Cas just looks hurt so Dean finally gives in and raises his body from his chair, feet stepping carefully on the front sear before hooking it on the other side.

Castiel watches him dive on the next empty seat at the far end with his bowlegs making it easier to land. After a few more shifting of legs and ass, Dean sits up beside the angel and sighs.

"S' matter with me saying it? How this ends, its gonna be ugly, you just gave a very good example of one. There's no happy ending here, Cas, and there's no point pretending. We know what's waiting for us there. There's no saving the day without all of us kicking god's bucket list, but..."

But...

He looks up with as much determination enough to gey Cas attention when he adds-

"You will not lose yourself to Jack. Don't make it horrible for him, man. I've been there...me wanting you guys to kill me, I just want it to end." Dean peers at the blue round eyes, initiating the end of distance this time when he slides closer to the angel. Dean nods at the angel seriously.

"Jack may be soulless now, and he got a mission. But you don't let yourself die on his hands because at the end of the day? That blood? It's what will make Jack. You make him promise to do the horrible and he will do just equal horrible to everything. That's what you need to see. You get to die... and you get to destroy Jack at the same time. D'you really want that to happen, Cas?"

Castiel stares at him. Just looks and this time, the blue eyes don't look as confident. Dean blames himself for doing that so he gives him an apologetic look.

At least Cas looks like he will listen now. That's enough for the rocks grinding down Dean's stomach to disappears much to his relief.

He can convince Cas. He can convince his angel to take it all back. Convince Cas there's still a way other than him being another sacrifice. Dean can do all that part later on, but at least, he wants Cas safe. Wants him okay. Just... Wants him.

He wants Cas.

Cas looks soft and lost the way his eyes fall down his hands, bottom lip caught between his teeth as he takes in Dean's words. Out of instinct, Dean caresses his smooth cheeks without thinking. Cas looks broken and maybe Dean feels the same way too because that's how it's always been. They damn broken people together, repairing the other.

His touch lights life back in the blue eyes. Before he knows it, Cas grabs a fistful of his collar but stays an arms-length away, leaving Dean with heart up his throat and butterflies flapping inside his guts.

"Cas-”

"I don't want to... I can't leave Jack..."

"Yeah, sure." Dean feels a tinge of jealousy, but he cannot be selfish now. Cas has found another reason, another being to be faithful to, to be loyal to and Dean's not cutting it with him being at the center of all death and destruction.

He gotta let go of his angel too.

"Stay with Jack. He'll need you when all of this is over. He's already lost his mom and I don't think we need to look up my hand for palm reading, we know I won't make it there,"

Cas grip on his collar tightens.

"I told you to stop saying that," he growls, pulling Dean even closer enough to leave the hunter crosseyed. "I'm not going to lose you, Dean."

"It's okay. I'll get there in the end anyway."

"I don't want to lose you." Castiel falls silent for a moment.

"You won't." Dean wished he could believe that himself. "It's you I'm worried about."

"Why?" Cas wraps an arm across Dean's chest, head comfortably on top of the man's chest.

"Cas, you basically just told Jack to go all "The Ripper on you. And you know who's the big bad wolf behind my back... Let's not make promises here."

"Dean." Castiel pulls Dean so they're facing each other again. I don't want to lose you."

Dean just kisses his lips in answer. Sweet and very much in need, he lets Cas lead this time until he is breaking away.

"Tell me," Cas says gruffly, letting Dean up a little so their eyes meet again.

"What."

"Tell me to stop wanting to take you away." he confesses, "To bring you somewhere safer where nothing like this can hurt you... Can take you away... Please, Dean."

Dean opens his eyes. He could feel Cas's body tensing. Could feel Castiel's forlorn soul in need of consolation. Half of him wants to tell the angel he can't. Half of him wants to tell Cas there's no escaping their fate this time. No resurrection, no reruns of the show but just...fucking cold-

"Dean..."

It was said with urgency and need that has the hunter reacting on instinct. Dean slinks his hands around the angel's chest He grazes his forehead past the wet lips and damp cheeks. Cas had been crying.

Pained, Dean reaches and cups Castiel's face like its everything he needs on his hands. The angel looks at him, eyes wet from tears and how could Dean not say it? How could he even doubt it?

"Then we win."

Cas blinks. "What?"

Dean grits his teeth. "We win..we don't let that bastard win. Cause as much as you want to take me away, I wanna do the same thing. But... Our feet wouldn't take us far. Running away will only give us grace time, but it won't solve anything..."

He wipes the tears away, hating the way Castiel is breaking to pieces about something that hasn't passed. Dean decides he doesn't want that. He embraces Cas again.

"We're gonna win this with us both living... All of us... We're gonna win this to live, not to die, you hear me, Cas? Let's not think of dying while living, hear me?"

Castiel nods, burying his face on Dean's neck with fingers holding the man's arm tight and at that moment, Dean's heart swells. He remembers everything he has been fighting for since the beginning. At that moment, he felt like he can protect everything. Protect Cas and his family and they'll be damned if anyone tries and stops him.

The nip on his neck reminds him of another thing. He pulls back to look the angel in the eyes, Castiel who follows his neck with lust dancing in those blue eyes, eager and wanting. In love.

Protect Cas he will. ✨

Aw! I found the keep reading hehe. Also full form on A03 but that's EXPLICIT tag so... ❤ anyways :)

#Castiel x dean winchester #destiel fic #ao3 #lockdownfest #deancas #Casdesn #castiel loves dean #15x13 coda #supernatural

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jbbuckybarnes · 5 years

Text

Kinktober - Day 21

21/31 Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader Prompt: Size Difference Warnings: 18+

M A S T E R L I S T

Today was the day. You’d be seeing your boyfriend again. Steve. Steve Rogers. Yep, Captain America. You still didn’t know how you managed to get that catch but you did and it was a sweet romance until now. You’d been going slow with everything but you definitely enjoyed being picked up at random. You were small compared to him, like…SMALL. He was 6'2 and you were in the lower 5’ region. He loved picking you up to get to things, carrying you to his bed when you came over to the compound or just having you around his waist for a kiss. Today he was coming back from a mission, a long one fixing the quantum realm and making sure nobody would ever get stuck in there again. Today was also the day you would implode if you wouldn’t finally get more than just his t-shirt off of him.

“Hey, honey.” he was out of his quantum suit, but his sexy Cap suit was still on and if it wouldn’t be so hard to get off you would pounce on him right now and wouldn’t let go. “Hey, Stevie!” you jumped at him and were caught. “Had a good time without me or did Sam annoy you?” he grinned. “No, but I missed you,” you said laying your head onto his shoulder. “Missed you too, baby.” he planted a kiss onto your forehead. “Still need to get out of my suit. We can cuddle all you want in ten minutes,” he mumbled. “Oki,” you said calm and jumped back down. The moment he left for a shower your legs started feeling weak. Your body knew what was going to happen. Your mind was 100% sure about it. After 10 minutes you walked to his room and knocked on the door. “Come in.” you closed the door behind you and saw him walk out of the bathroom with boxer shorts, his favorite shirt, and freshly dried hair. “Steve?” you almost blurted out his name. “Hm?” he looked up with attentive eyes and started frowning when he noticed your behavior and fast heartbeat. You walked over to where he had just sat down on his bed and sat down on his lap to be on his eye level. “I really missed you.” you whimpered and his hands went over your hips. “I really missed you too, baby.” he smiled softly. “No, I mean I MISSED you.” you held eye contact. “Elaborate, my old brain doesn’t get it.” this reminded you of your shared confessions. Oblivious to the obvious was your shared specialty. “I craved you.” you reworded it. “Oh, OH.” he the realization hit him. “Yeah.” you smiled a bit unsure. “God, I couldn’t stop thinking about you either.” his thumb slowly went over your lower lip. You stopped his wrist and sucked on his finger suggestively. “Like that?” you dipped your head to the side and saw him swallow with his instincts kicking in. His eyes were darker and his jaw tensed. “Mhm.” is all he got out. “Steve, I want you. So bad,” you whispered with your hand going through his hair. “I want you too, honey.” he grabbed you a little closer. “Can we take the next step?” you murmured before he captured your lips. You felt the bulge in his underwear and let out a tiny moan in the kiss. With a hum he blindly made you stand up and pulled down your pants and panties at once. A louder moan was muffled by the kiss. You went apart, threw your shirts away, anticipation building up more and more. He grabbed you into your initial position, starting to kiss you again but more gently, hands caressing the insides of your thighs, getting hums of pleasure as an answer. You went apart, “You sure?” A nod was sent back at him before lips melted again and you felt fingers searching your folds. “Tell me if I hurt you,” he mumbled between kisses before two fingers dove into you and made you part your lips for a moan. “Always wanted to know how beautiful that sounds.” he smiled up at you while stretching his fingers out with every in and out motion. “Your hands are so big, Steve.” your voice was hoarse with your head lolling back and your fingers clawing into his shoulders. “Feels good?” he grinned almost proud. “So good.” you sighed before his fingers left you and you squeezed into his shoulders. You watched him get off his boxer shorts, seeing his full size compared to your torso. A little over a third of your torso to be exact but he was taller than you and was injected with the serum. You just didn’t know if he might hurt you. The eyes of both of you were on the latex rolling over his length before you shared an intense moment of eye contact. “You ready?” he whispered and you nodded, being picked up by your waist with ease. He had one arm around you, one hand helping him enter you and you slowly went down until the two of you touched. You held your breath, feeling him slowly stretch you out. He looked up at you without you noticing. Your center was gushing wetness for him to enter more and more and the deeper he was inside of you, the greater it felt. You thought he might be hurting you but instead, you were going crosseyed from pleasure and intensity. When there was no further to go he groaned, squeezing your hips. “You still with me? Never saw someone going so crosseyed in my life.” he smiled at your hazy eyes. “I. Wow. That’s,” you blinked a few more times, “Feels amazing.” “Good, don’t want to hurt you.” he stroked your skin before helping you move up again. You looked down on yourself, seeing an outline of him and how it turned into slick pink further down. “Fuck, Steve.” you moaned out. “You feel great, honey.” he murmured encouraging you to move down again, which you did with a shared moan. Forearms on his shoulders and an arched back were your body’s natural reaction before sliding up again with his support and groans hot on your neck. You started falling into a rhythm and moaned the easier it got to move on him. “Fuck, that’s good.” you moaned out. “Yes, darling.” he moaned too. You grabbed into his hair picking up the pace out of bodily instincts and moaned out melodies in every octave. This was a religious experience, you were dizzy and shaking. “Mmmh, darling. A little faster. You’re almost there.” he held himself back and you heard that in his tone. Your body moved by itself and got sloppier and sloppier while you started cursing like a sailor. A high-pitched squeal left you and you got a, “Yeah, that’s my girl,” back from a strangled voice. You were wildly pulsating around him and had his hands soothingly moving over your back. “Didn’t think that would be a perk of dating a smaller girl.” he grinned panting. “If this is so intense every time, I need to get a doctors appointment for my permanent dizziness.” you chuckled. “Or bruises,” he mumbled. You giggled, “And rearranged guts.” “Guilty as charged.” he grinned. “Can you?” you held your arms up and he got you off of his lap with a shared sigh. “That was awesome.” you fell onto the mattress with a dopey smile. “Yes, it was.” he pulled you closer after a short trip to the trash can. “I love you, Steven Grant Rogers.” “Ew, not my whole name,” he chuckled, “Love you more, darling.” “Quite literally…more.” you snorted.

M A S T E R L I S T

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poc-movie-supremacy · 4 years

Text

Has life been good to you?

A.N.: This is a future!fic, westallen are elderly people in this story. It’s date night for them. If you have any constructive criticism, tell me, but don’t be mean about it, please. I hope you enjoy this fic! (also I don’t own any characters or setting related to the flash tv show or the comics)

_______

Her joints ache as she puts away a finished book. She slowly walks around the room, searching for her tablet to play a card game. The room is quiet, lit with the glow of the sun. It filtered through the redwoods surrounding their cabin. This cabin used to belong to Barry’s father, but after the kids proved fine on their own and no one needed the Flash, they retired to it. It was quaint and quiet. It was odd at first, but then it became a gift. She felt more relaxed than she has in a while. Life never became lonely either, not with the ability to portal anywhere.

Iris found her crossword puzzle and settled down in the big red armchair in the living room. Today is date ‘night’. Well more like date afternoon, Iris is almost 75 she’s going to bed earlier and earlier. Barry had gone out to the store to buy some forgotten stuff for dinner. He was still a lot more nimble than Iris in his old age. On good days he could carry her to their bed, but usually he just threaded his arm through hers and walked her to bed. She was grateful for it, Iris underestimated Grandma Esther when she was watching Iris. Doing most things in her old age was a lot harder than it seems. Barry helped her a lot though which she thinks he likes. It makes him feel needed, she figures.

After about an hour Iris heard the door opening. “Hey honey I’m back.” Barry entered the house carrying two paper bags filled with stuff.

Iris put down her crossword, “Hi baby, do you need any help with the groceries?”

“No, I just needed these things.” Barry peaked his head over the wall to give her a sheepish smile. Iris arched her eyebrow curiously at her husband. “I may have gotten more than I needed.”

Iris gave her husband a look but smiled. “It’s alright, we probably don’t have to go shopping soon then.”

Barry finished putting away all the groceries. He sped over to his wife. “I don’t think so. I bought wine and mint chocolate chip ice cream.”

Iris’s eyes lit up. “You bought wine and mint chocolate chip! Oh, can we have it for dinner?” Iris squeezed her husband’s hand and pouted at him.

Barry looked at Iris fondly. His free hand swept a loose gray curl behind her ear. “Yeah, but for dessert. I’m making lasagna for us.”

“Need any help?”

“No it’s ok. Lasagna’s easy to make.” Barry also didn’t want Iris in the kitchen since she couldn’t cook that well even after all this time. She glared at him but stayed where she was. Barry leaned down and kissed her on the forehead.

After turning on the music, Barry bustled around the kitchen preparing the lasagna. Iris hummed softly to the music as she told her husband a bizarre story that apparently happened to their granddaughter. She had dressed up as a chicken in an attempt to vandalize her rival school, but when she heard of a man intent on ill will towards old ladies, she, in a chicken costume, took her friends, also in chicken costumes, took him down. Thankfully they beat him, sustaining only minor injuries.

Barry’s eyebrows shot up. “Her first time fighting crime was in a chicken suit?”

Iris laughed out loud. “Mhm. Joey and Melanie were not amused when they found out. Joey called me almost raving about how irresponsible those kids were. It took a lot of effort to not laugh. Once he realized what he was complaining about he apologized, to both of us.”

Barry chuckled. “Moments like these remind me why Joe said he couldn’t wait for us to have kids. I’m glad they’re ok. You think Cisco’s fuming that his great-niece went out super-heroing and not only did she not ask him for a suit, but the suit she did go out in was a chicken suit?”

“Oh, I wouldn’t be surprised. It happened last week I think, so we’ll be hearing about this soon.” Iris said.

Barry's eyes sparkled in mirth as layering the lasagna. Iris shivered and slowly walked around the house closing the windows. “Ok I put it in the oven, in 45 minutes we will be having lasagna.” Barry ambled over to his wife who had just closed the kitchen window. He wrapped his long frame entirely around her. Old age has made them shorter, but he still had a good foot on her. Iris buried her face into his chest and returned the hug.

“Still cold?” Barry whispered.

“Mmm not anymore.”

“Sorry.”

Iris looked up at him crosseyed and pouting. Barry giggled at his cute wife, it did not help change her facial features. She stuck her tongue out at him then continued cuddling her husband. Barry looked at his wife dreamily and smiled dopily. He looked at her like that so much his friends nicknamed his dopey. (Harry got nicknamed grumpy. He wasn’t amused) Barry didn’t mind the nickname though, it was true. He was in love with her, has been since they were kids and she offered him cookies on the playground. Now 68 years later, they survived every damn thing no one could think of, had kids and grandkids, and got married. The song that came on made Iris’s smile stretched from ear to ear. “Do you remember this?” A thousand years was playing on the tablet.

“That movie was horrible.” Barry groaned. He remembered that day like it was yesterday even though it had been decades ago. It had been a tiring day fighting crime, so they decided to rewind by watching a movie. Iris got them a ton of snacks then Barry curled up into her side. She mindlessly ran her fingers through her hair while she looked for a rom-com to watch. By accident, they watched the fifth twilight movie. It definitely wasn’t their favorite and Cicso definitely didn’t approve of their choice, but the song, a thousand years, was the one thing they liked from that movie.

“It wasn’t the best no, but the song, this song, was really beautiful,” Iris remarks. Barry is struck with a good idea. He reluctantly pulls a little away from the hug to put them in a waltz form (even though the song wasn’t a waltz to their knowledge).

He quietly sings Christina Perry's song to Iris. It’s one of her favourite things about him. They slowly sway side to side as they dance in the kitchen. He spins her around and kisses her temple. When the lyrics, time stand still, come up Barry flashes them into flashtime. He cupped her face and kissed her softly. When they stopped, he rested his forehead against hers. She happily sighed, eyes closed and smiling. She felt lucky that they were able to be together this long. She remembers thinking that he was going to die in the future, when she was going to die, and she counts her blessings that neither of those futures came true.

“I love you.” He whispers, and he looks at her like she hung the freaking moon. Her hands softly fiddle with his thick red sweater with the gold trim. (It was a gift from Kara)

“I love you.” She adores him, she adores everything he does for her, she wonders if she has repaid the favor.

“You’re gorgeous. You get more beautiful with every passing day.”

“Every hour every minute?” Iris asks cheekily. He laughs and twirls her. She thinks it’s the loveliest sound in the world.

“Every hour every minute and then some. You are an angel, Iris West-Allen, and I am lucky to have you.” He’s starting to sweat. Using his powers drains him more quickly than it used to. He doesn’t want her to notice, but she does.

“I am lucky to have you, Bar.” Her voice is quieter when she says this next part. “It’s ok, baby, take us out of flashtime, you’re tired.”

Even though he knows he should, he still tries to argue with her. “No, I’m ok Iris,”

She gives him an unimpressed look. Some things never change. Barry yields to her good judgement pretty quickly. Now they can hear the rustle of the trees and music from the tablet. Iris leads Barry to the couch and she goes to get some milk and a power bar.

“The lasagna will be done in 25 minutes.” Iris handed him the powerbar and glass of milk. Barry took the milk from her and put it on the nightstand. He pulled Iris to his side and took a bite out of his bar. She rested her head atop his chest and listened to his heartbeat. It was it’s usual quick pace which she found comforting. Barry ran his finger through her hair methodically. His thumb started to caress an old scar on her hairline.

“Do you ever miss when we used to be heroes, out on the streets catching criminals, helping people?”

“We still do, help people I mean. Playing card games with Cynthia, baking with Kara, trading books with Diggle, meditating with Wally, it keeps us all sane. As for the first part, it was a thrilling life with a lot of rewards, but it wasn’t the safest life. You know we’re lucky to have lived so long.” The green arrow mask on the mantle and other knick-knacks from other dead heroes was a big reminder of that.

“Time has been good to us,” Barry remarks. He doesn’t say that not everyone has been so lucky, but she knows. He knows she knows when she curls closer to him.

“Time, the speed force, life’s been good to us all, let’s hope the next generation has the same luck.”

“Let’s hope.” The rest of the night was relatively quiet. The lasagna was delicious and completely gone by the end of the night. The wine and ice cream made them a little more giggly than before. After two glasses each they called it quits and headed to bed. After readying themselves for bed, Barry and Iris curled themselves up in bed. A small part of her head was the only thing peeking out from under the mattress, resting by his chest. Blankets were piled on top of her. Barry squeezed Iris’s hand.

“Goodnight, my love.” As he was about to turn off the light he saw a photo on his nightstand. It was a photo of them, their parents, their kids, their spouses, and their grandkids. The other photos around them were of their friends throughout the years. Time has been good to me, he muses. Turning off the light cocooning himself around his wife, they drift off to sleep, at peace.

#barry allen #iris west allen #westallen #iris west #the flash #ella's flash fics #we're all fic writers here #fluff

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