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cariantha · 2 years ago

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Bad Dream

Book: Open Heart, Book 2 Pairing: Dr. Ethan Ramsey x F!MC (Dr. Sawyer Brooks) Rating: General Category: Fluff Word count: 1.2K Summary: Sawyer has a nightmare while Ethan is out of town and despite the distance he is able to bring her comfort in the sweetest way.

A/N: To the anon who sent this ask, I’m sorry for taking so long to follow up. I had promised “Coming Soon” content, but the original idea for this fic was not working. So, I scrapped it and ended up going another direction, inspired by the song Bracelet by Lauv. Hope you like it!

Almost three months had passed since the attempted attack on the senator and Sawyer was doing fairly well. Finally back to work full-time, going to counseling, and taking medication as needed. Despite the positive prognosis, Ethan knew there could still be setbacks. Nor was he over his own fear of losing her. So he continued to keep a watchful eye. And being this far away caused stress and constant worry.

It was supposed to be a quick turnaround trip. The plan was to fly to Cleveland with Baz, consult on a case, and return home as quickly as possible. But nothing had gone according to plan. A diverted flight, lab work delays, and a challenging diagnosis kept him in Ohio three days longer than originally anticipated.

2:00 P.M.

8:30 P.M.

“You were right, Ethan,” Baz announced as he returned to the conference room with updated lab results. “It’s POEMS syndrome.”

A couple hours later, Ethan and Baz had drafted a detailed treatment plan to present to the patient's physician of record.

“Baz, we’ve been in Ohio much longer than I anticipated. I need to get back to Boston. Do you think you can wrap up this consultation on your own? There’s a flight back to Boston leaving at 5 a.m. that I’d like to catch.”

“I got this, Boss.”

“Thank you.”

1:00 A.M.

After booking the flight and packing his things, Ethan laid on the hotel bed intending to catch a nap before his ride to the airport arrived. Eyes closed but far from sleep, his phone buzzed and vibrated on the nightstand, Sawyer’s name flashing on the screen.

“Rookie?”

“E-Ethan.”

He sat up and turned on the lamp when he heard his whimpered name. “Hey,” he said delicately, “what’s wrong?” His heart started to beat faster and harder, mind suddenly racing with all of the possible reasons for the broken voice on the other end of the line.

Trying to stop herself from crying, Sawyer snuffled, “I just needed to hear your voice. Will you talk with me for a little bit?”

“I’m here,” he assured her, “whatever you need.”

With that specific request he understood the cause of her distress. Though not as frequent several weeks later, Sawyer continued to have nightmares about the poison attack. This one likely the result of whatever triggered her anxiety earlier in the day. “Was it another nightmare?”

“Yeah, it was a bad one,” her voice was still shaking.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“Not really. Is that okay?”

“Of course.”

“I’m sorry for waking you up.”

“No need to be sorry. I wasn’t asleep. I was actually lying awake thinking of you.”

“You were? What were you thinking about?”

One night after a particularly upsetting dream, Ethan brought comfort by revealing one of the moments when he started to realize he had feelings for her. Since then, whenever they were together and Sawyer woke up from a bad dream, he soothed her back to sleep with another endearing memory.

“Do you remember the leather wrist band you bought for me at the farmer’s market last year?” he recalled.

“You mean the friendship bracelet I gave you? Because you were being stubborn and wouldn’t admit that we were friends?” she wise-offed.

“Can you hear my eyes rolling?” he came back with, earning a light chuckle from the other end of the line. “Yes, that’s the one.” His voice now gentle, “I don’t remember if I ever told you, but I took it with me when I left for the Amazon. You know that I convinced myself that it would be best for us to try and move on… but that didn’t mean I was ready to let you go right away. With a foot already out the door, I realized that I needed to take a piece of you with me, so I went back for it. I figured I’d wear it until enough time passed that I didn’t need to anymore. I was so busy and distracted when I was working that I sometimes fooled myself into thinking I was finally getting over you... but at night when I was alone with my thoughts…” he exhaled softly, “well, they always drifted to you and I’d wake up missing you even more.” Sawyer sniffed back sentimental tears as he continued. “The day that I didn’t need it anymore never came. I wore that leather band every day until I came home.”

“Thank you for telling me that,” she whispered. “Want to know something?”

“What’s that?”

“When you first told me about the W.H.O. mission, I started following their Pictagram account. After you had been gone for a few weeks, they posted a picture of you and you were wearing the bracelet. And the night you came back, when we were talking in the beer garden, I saw it around your wrist. Just under the sleeve of your jacket,” she explained. “It’s the reason I kissed you that night. You’d never wear something like that unless it meant something important to you.”

“I see you’ve mastered the art of observation,” he joked before getting serious again. “And it did. It still does.”

Sawyer’s phone vibrated in her hand as a notification alerted her to a new text message.

“Ethannnnn, you’re wearing it now?” touched by the gesture.

“This time it was the first thing I grabbed when packing for this trip. I wanted a piece of you with me while I was away.”

“I love…” she caught herself. It’s not that she didn’t want to say it, she just didn’t want to pressure Ethan to say it back if he wasn’t ready. “I love that. It’s so sweet.”

“And far less creepy than pocketing a pair of your panties,” trying and successfully making her laugh.

“Well, I should probably confess that I’ve raided your closet and will be spooning your pillow so I can feel close to you too.”

He laughed heartily at the mental image. “Are you feeling better?”

“Much.”

“I’m glad. Go have a cup of tea and try to get back to sleep,” he encouraged.

“Any chance I’ll see you tomorrow?” she asked hopefully.

“We’ll see, but I think the odds are looking good,” he replied knowing full well he’d be boarding a plane and on his way home to her in just a couple of hours.

“Well, fingers crossed. And Ethan?”

“Yeah?”

“Thank you,” she said most sincerely.

“Only good dreams now, okay? Goodnight, Rookie.”

“Bye, babe.”

9:00 A.M.

Ethan entered the still apartment, leaving his coat and suitcase in the entryway. Seeing no sign of life yet, he quietly made his way to the master bedroom. Head just barely poking out from under the comforter, he found her just as she said, spooning his king size pillow.

He carefully toed off his shoes and parted with his shirt and pants. He removed his watch, placing it on the top of the dresser, but left his other accessory on.

Lifting the comforter, Ethan climbed into bed scooting up against her backside and wrapped his arm tightly around her. Though jarring her from sleep, the familiar touch and scent instantly quieted her alarm.

“Surprise,” he breathed into her ear before kissing her cheek and trailing down her neck.

With a raspy morning voice she uttered “Hiiiii” while her hands hugged his arm, the feel of braided leather under one of her palms.

“Did you have better dreams after we talked?” he mumbled against the skin of her exposed shoulder.

Rolling over, she nudged him flat onto his back and slowly straddled his hips. “Mhmmm, the best. And it looks like they’re about to become reality,” she smirked before leaning down and kissing him deeply.

Tag List: @choicesficwriterscreations @openheartfanfics @potionsprefect @jamespotterthefirst @annfg8 @peonierose @socalwriterbee @tessa-liam @jerzwriter @quixoticdreamer16 @mysticalgalaxysstuff @inlocusmads @txemrn @trappedinfanfiction @mvalentine @takemyopenheart @ofmischiefandmedicine @openheartforeverinmyheart @doriopenheart @coffeeheartaddict2 @genevievemd @starrystarrytrouble

#open heart #open heart choices #open heart fanfic #ethan ramsey #ethan ramsey x mc #ethan x mc #ethan x sawyer #choices stories you play #choices open heart #playchoices #choices fic writers creations #cfwc fics of the week

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doodlebeeberry · 1 year ago

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Hourly

(for objectober day 6: city)

It wasn't even a bad thing, inherently. They—he—had been waiting months to get back home. Or back to Earth, at least. Their own respective Earths. It had just been sudden. Too sudden. Bryce hadn't known what to make of it.

In which Bryce is left waiting in San Fransisco, and the consequences of having to be patient.

inspired by this drawing by @/sodabottlehfjone that i had life three separate ideas for a while back. admittedly this left the scope of my original idea a bit but still.

Also theyre humanizied here for consistency sake btw

2:58 a.m. An alley off 13th and Cabrillo, tucked between a shooting range decorated with little more than sun bleached targets and a diner sporting a crooked, half lit sign. Clear sky overhead. A dumpster half full of garbage and a skinny grey alley cat sniffing around near its base, where a few scraps had slipped through a torn bag and sprinkled the ground like an inverse confetti. No stars, not with the city light. In red and green blinks, though, an airplane crawled across the sky. The faint roar of its distant engines played Foley over the night.

It took one minute for the monotony to break. Kind of. Sixty seconds, the cat investigated a napkin and an empty grape jelly packet. The plane flew further eastward. Then, 2:59 on the dot, to the second, the millisecond even, and Bryce was there. Not there, then there, in an act so devoid of fanfare that, for several seconds afterwards—fifteen, to be exact—neither he nor the world itself seemed to have processed his appearance. Six months of grass stains were hidden only just by the green of his jacket. One hundred and eighty three days worth of wear showed on his pants, his shoes, his face tilted up and frozen mid one—sided—conversation. Longer hair with faded dye dripped down his head and shoulders and around his cheeks. The very first thing he saw, upon returning to Earth, was the plane retreating over the rooftops. Its green lights winked at him. Sixteen seconds after his appearance the wind blew stiff into his hair. Several strands tickled his nose. His mouth shut—clicked, with the tap of his teeth against each other so suddenly—and he took a deep breath in. It came back out heavy, something between a sigh and a growl and a groan.

"That idiot," he said. The cat looked up at him, his words alerting it to his presence for the very first time.

At 2:59 and twenty one seconds, the cat scampered around and away from him down the street. In the following thirty nine seconds the engine whirr faded from the air, and by 3:00 a.m on the dot Bryce was well and truly alone.

There were two ways he took that. On the one hand, he'd been alone a lot over the past six months or so. The plane wasn't massive really, but it was plenty big enough that he could wander far enough in the plug's direction for the silence to swallow him up. On the other, it never struck him as actual 'alone time'. Not like it was in his apartment, or his car, or the whole of Bridgeport, or now, with the smell of garbage starting to reach his nose. On the plane it was just separate. Quiet space. Maybe it was Liam that made it feel that way. Invisible and, if he wanted to be, inaudible above them in Airy's world.

Or was he besides them? Was that how Liam had described it?

At 3:01 a.m, Bryce decided not to sweat the details. He fished around in his pockets instead, pulling out first a blue sticky note and looking it over the same way he checked his phone for the time. It did not tell him the time. It read him a couple phone numbers, a couple names, a couple different handwritings, a couple too many crinkles along the corners from living in his jacket for so long. He stuck it back in his pocket. Next a few dollar bills. Some coins. 16.65 total, lucky him. They all went back in his pocket. Then came a receipt, a torn scrap of cardboard packaging. 'Charger' was the only thing of note written on both of them. With purpose Bryce tucked them away. By 3:03 a.m he had taken a full, meticulous stock of his pockets. He wasn't expecting to find his phone, having lost it multiverse jumping months back, but the lack of it still disappointed him. Even if he wasn't sure what messages he would've been coming back to.

A car drove past the alley. Headlights cast out around him, the LED kind that were brighter than the sun, and peeled away just as quickly without ever quite reaching him. Just an inch or two too far. The car in question had been red, he thought, and small.

3:04 a.m, he realized he could see the reflection of the sign next door on the windows across the street. He couldn't tell what the buildings were—shops, restaurants, apartments. Whatever it was, the lights inside were dark. From the distance, Bryce couldn't see his reflection.

3:05 a.m, he resisted the urge to pace. It was tempting, but he bit it back. He turned a pocket nickel in his fingers instead.

3:06 a.m, someone walked by. Tall, but not thin, with hair up in a bun. He guessed it was blonde, or white.

3:07 a.m, nothing happened. He cursed. "That idiot," Bryce hissed again.

3:08 a.m, He began to pace.

3:09 a.m, Bryce replayed their last interaction. 'Stop' wasn't what he'd meant to say, but everyone had vanished, one by one, and shouting Liam's name had hardly seemed to work. He'd given them no warning. Bryce had been telling Amelia a story. Then, Amelia was gone. Subway followed. Then Charlotte. Atom.

Quiet. A slight shuffle in the air. "Did you—"

"Yeah. Yeah, I did"

"are you gonna... can you send yourself back?"

Pause. "Maybe. Probably."

2:59 a.m. Keyboard clacking.

"You've gotta go back"

Less a pause, more a breath. "I—"

"Go home , Liam."

3:10 a.m, Liam was never good at listening to him, not in Bridgeport and not now. Bryce didn't know what he was waiting for.

3:11 a.m, he considered leaving the alley.

3:11 a.m and one second.

3:11 a.m and two seconds.

3:11 a.m and four seconds.

3:11 a.m and eight seconds.

3:11 a.m and sixteen seconds.

3:11 a.m and twenty-one seconds.

3:11 a.m and twenty-two seconds, on the dot. To the millisecond, even. And Liam was there. Bryce was no longer alone.

They stared at each other. Liam clutched the strap of his backpack.

"Sorry," Liam said, simply. Another car passed, this one blue. Bryce could make out a baseline thumping through it's doors. diner—scent wafted above the garbage, slightly. The tense energy wound up in his gut lessened, tired.

3:11 a.m and fifty-nine seconds. "Come on," Bryce walked around a proper reply, "let's eat."

* * *

The diner itself was fine. Small. A little dimly lit. Empty save for one guy in a worn-out suit jacket slowly chewing on a hot dog while watching a lets play on his phone. A counter with some assorted old barstools and booths that ran along the walls. Glancing at the bored server behind the counter—short and older with an abstract tattoo running along their neck—they sat at a booth beside a window. From this angle, Bryce could spot the moon hanging over them. Yellowed and crescent thin.

He wasn't all that hungry, honestly. He wasn't sure why he'd brought them here, beyond the promise of coffee that would chase away the sleepiness hanging over him. Regardless, he traded away the majority of his 16.65 in pocket money and contemplated swiping a bite or two of Liam's waffle—lightly syruped, and unbuttered—while waiting for his coffee—sweetened, but without milk—to cool, if only to keep hunger from catching up to him. He knew it would, sooner or later.

Bryce set his chin on the table, slowly but surely giving in to sleep. They hadn't said much since they'd walked in, and it was the quiet between them that kept him from slipping under completely. He shut his eyes.

Liam, moments later, was the first to break that quiet.

"You alright?" he asked.

"Tired," Bryce replied, halfway to a mumble. Liam hummed. There was music playing in the diner, a dad-rock sounding band Bryce didn't know the name of, just loud enough to hear and acknowledge before it faded to the back of his awareness. If he bothered to listen closer, he could hear the sound of people shuffling around in the kitchen. Above all that, though, came the sound of ceramics across laminate. Bryce pried his eyes open. The waffle sat in front of his nose. Glancing up, he found Liam looking back. A scrap of waffle was pierced on his fork. He glanced between it, the plate, Bryce. Bryce, for his part, flicked his eyes towards his still steaming mug, then back to Liam. Liam bit off his waffle scrap and gestured with his fork. Bryce scoffed a bit. Once again, Liam was never particularly good at listening to him. Still though, he sat up and snatched his fork from its resting place on the table, his pinkie brushing the warm mug in the process.

"You never know when to quit," Bryce told him.

Liam held out his knife. "It's been six months"

"So?" Bryce took it, "plus, they burned it"

True to his word, the left side of the waffle was overdone. Less of a golden shade of brown and more of a dark, dark one.

"So?" Liam returned. Bryce didn't argue with him. Instead, He focused on cutting up one of the better looking sections he'd been offered. It gave fairly easily under the knife, soft and springy. He came away with a single square, a tiny puddle of syrup pooled within it. Sticky threads followed it some ways from the plate as he lifted it. The song faded out, shifting from electric guitars to acoustic, different in tone but not inherently more mellow. The waffle piece sat patiently on his fork. Bryce did not bite it.

"What took you so long?" he asked. Liam, once again, paused. "to get here,"

A singer began, voice low. Liam looked just left of Bryce, like he was looking at his ear instead, or the counter behind them.

"I had to get Texty," he began, patting his backpack, "for one"

"That took ten minutes?"

"It could've"

Quiet seeped back over them. Bryce leveled him, disbelieving, but Liam still didn't meet his eye. Bryce dipped his piece in a thin syrup streak on the plate. He took his time, dragging it through, gathering up a heap of what was most likely artificial maple onto his piece. With one final glance at Liam that, once again, missed him, he bit into it. Sweetness filled his mouth, sweetness and the taste of maple. He couldn't remember maple flavour enough to speak to the authenticity of it—even before everything, maple syrup had never exactly been a frequent part of his diet. The syrup hadn't soaked the waffle completely. It was springy, relatively soft, thankfully devoid of burnt flavour. All told, it broke over him like a wave. He still wasn't hungry, but his body knew he hadn't eaten in months. The dissonance shook up his senses as he swallowed, foreign, familiar, a good reminder that he was on Earth again, even if he wasn't home, all at once. It all must've shown on his face, because he found Liam looking at him again, slightly puzzled.

"God, that's weird," Bryce summed up, "how did you put up with eating again, the first time?"

Liam shrugged, "I don't know. I guess I was so focused on getting to Bridgeport I just didn't think about how long it'd been." He pierced another piece with his fork, glancing out the window. "Honestly, seeing the sunrise again threw me off more than anything"

Bryce followed his gaze. It wasn't even 4 a.m; the sun wasn't rising yet. The moon hadn't moved much. It still watched them from the sky. Another plane was slowly making its way across the sky, though. Blinking, red and green. The door swung open, shut. Less than three seconds later the suited man walked past their window, leaving them the only patrons inside.

"I guess I can see that," Bryce said. They watched the city sleep a little longer.

A minute passed in this quiet.

Then another.

And another.

Then, as Bryce's eyes began to droop again—

"You told me to go home," Liam said, suddenly. Bryce looked at him, but caught the fading green of his hair rather than his eyes once again.

"Yeah?"

"You said I had to go home"

"Yeah, what's your point?"

"Why?"

Bryce blinked.

"Why?" he parroted.

Liam turned to him. "Why?"

Bryce shifted, leaning away from the window to look at him fully.

"What kind of question is that?"

Liam, following his lead, turned away from the window as well. He shrugged.

"It was over," Bryce said, "you stopped Airy, you sent us home, you didn't need to be there anymore." He grabbed his coffee, which had finally cooled enough to drink. Sipping it, he found it much less sweet and much more burnt than the waffle had been. Like he was sipping from the same pot they'd prepped the morning before—a likely bet, if he was to guess. At the very least he could appreciate its warmth.

He watched Liam's expression shift, and somewhere along the line he began fidgeting with a stained blue sleeve. Setting his mug down, Bryce nudged the half eaten, half forgotten plate into Liam's hands.

"You needed to go home," He said, "That's it. End of story." Bryce tried to keep his voice firm, certain, as though his thoughts on the matter began and ended here. Consciously, he didn't think of 2:59 a.m, how he'd felt when he'd opened his mouth. The coulds and woulds and formless opinions he had on Liam's fate. Either way, he'd known and still knew now, Bryce wouldn't have been able to do anything about it, not really. So instead, he picked up his fork. It left a sticky spot on the table where he'd left it.

Liam looked at him. His lips were pressed thin and his look measured. Almost like he didn't believe him, or had more to share. But whatever it was stayed in his head.

Without another word, he grabbed his fork and began, again, to eat.

#shout out to the dinkus. ive always used dashes for things like that but now i think i may swap sides #objectober #objectober 2023 #hfjone #hjfone liam #hfjone bryce #writin and ravin #im not that happy with the ending of this. or the inconsistent voice. or the fact that i didnt proofread it (cause its 3am again)#BUT. i had fun. and i like the concept. and also i like it. so. you know.

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aburruso-capstone-uhwoacm · 10 months ago

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Progress Report #1

These past two weeks, I’ve been working on the pre-production materials for my capstone game (working title: Sneaker). Most of it involved making concept art (which I’ll get into later), but there were some other major things that happened.

Before I discuss what exactly happened, I first need to explain my capstone idea. Basically, it’s a puzzle game where the player has to input coordinate points. These determine where their character will move and shoot. This is important to know because it will explain the first major event that happened in these past two weeks: I revamped the story of the game. The idea I was originally going to go with involved a high school student shooting down evil drones. The problem with this, however, is that I wanted to integrate a grid in the game (since it’s about coordinate math). I couldn’t figure how to do this without it clashing with the plot, which would take place in a city. So, I decided to completely scrap the “kid vs. drones” idea and instead went for a story that took place inside the metaverse; my reasoning is that the floor could look like a grid (because it technically takes place inside a computer). Now, the plot of Sneaker involves a girl going into the metaverse to take down servers that allow people to hack into others’ computers. There is a bit more to it, but that’s the basic idea.

Afterwards, I got started on the concept art. Designing the girl (whom I named Sasha) took a lot longer than I expected, mainly because I had trouble finding a good hairstyle for her. The final hairstyle I chose is heavily inspired by Meryl Silverburgh’s from Metal Gear Solid. While I wanted to emulate the way her hair flares out, I also didn’t want to copy it completely. Combined with the possibility that Sasha could only be facing to the right for most of the game (I’m still figuring that out), I decided to change the bangs so that the larger bang is on Sasha’s left instead of the right; this is because I didn’t want her hair to cover the eye that would be facing the player most of the time.

After I finished designing Sasha, I also designed the servers and some obstacles. These took less time than Sasha, though I did try to experiment with different ideas. For example, there is an eviction bot that takes the form of a hole. Originally, I made it circular, but then I decided that it would fit the setting better if I made it a square.

While this is all good and great, I still have one big issue: the color scheme. So far, I’ve made all the designs on paper. However, I don’t think I have enough color pencils to give Sasha and the obstacles the colors I want for them. I’m thinking that I may have to go digital for this. Otherwise, I’d have to figure out the colors when I start making the sprites (which would not be ideal).

Besides the concept art, I’ve also been creating a “full” game design document for Sneaker. I’ve been using Scott Rogers’ template from his book Level Up. However, I did make some adjustments to account for the fact that my project just consists of a single demo level (such as removing the game progression outline). Earlier, I had made a 1-page and 10-page document (also following Rogers’ templates) containing a lot of information about the game. So, I could just copy-and-paste some of the text from them into the full document. Still, I have to add more content, such as the player metrics and artwork.

Based on my workback plan, the pre-production stage isn’t over until Saturday. So, I’ll try to finish the rest of the concept art (primarily the UI and the color schemes) and the game design document. Once I’m finished with that, I’ll be able to start the first build of Sneaker. :)

#capstone #cm491 #gamedev

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brzatto · 1 year ago

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Hello! I'm the person who wrote the dissertation-length comment on chapter 2 of BCM. My essay of a comment probably speaks for itself but I really love your writing. I'm still thinking about your fic over a week later and reread your reply to my comment over and over. It took me a full evening to read chapter 2 because I would read a part, sit and think about it, then move to the next part. Even though the chapter was so long I was scared with each paragraph that it was going to end, I didn't want to stop reading. The ending was really satisfying, if the fic ended there it would be a lovely ending, but like I said in my original comment I'm so happy there's more to come. The ominous reply from you saying you might scrap what you've written and rewrite the ending nudged me to message you. I really hope you don't scrap what you've written so far! Even if it's not the direction you want the fic to go now, I think everyone would love to see the alternate ending if you're happy to share it in the event you don't use it for the fic. Kind of a "BCM 0.5" if you will. Everyone is begging for the porny carmrich writing so thought I'd throw my hat in the ring and beg for the alt. ending of BCM. xD

Also thank you for leaving such a long reply to my comment! I really liked hearing your thoughts about Carmy and Richie and would love to hear more about your writing process. Your fic was the first The Bear fic I ever read and it hasn't left my mind since I first read it back in December last year.

Sorry for another really long message I can't seem to stop typing once I start. xD

(p.s. you should post the carmrich pwp huhuhuhuhu)

of course i remember you! i always remember repeat commenters and i distinctly remember being at work when i got the email for the first comment you left me on bcm, it was a really lovely comment and it made my entire night.

i say this often to a lot of commenters but it really does mean so much to me that you enjoy my writing and it has that sort of effect on you!!! like more than you’ll ever know. i can count the number of times i’ve actually published works on ao3 on two hands and i’ve always gravitated towards rarepairs with nicher audiences in almost every fandom i’ve been in so the type of enthusiasm i’ve received so far with bcm is really genuinely touching. i always try my best to reciprocate the energy given to me in the comments i get but longer ones make me especially happy because i loooove discussing character analysis and dynamics with people and i’m always eager to know how other people interpret my characters and my writing! thanks for how much thought you put into all of your comments, i always look forward to reading what you have to say <3

as for the ending of bcm i don’t actually think i’ll fully be scrapping it, it’ll still end the same general way that i had in mind but i’ll probably end up rewriting/reworking it because a big chunk of the fic leading up to it is still unwritten and by the time i actually get close to the ending it probably won’t make much sense as it is currently word for word. i don’t normally write in chronological order, i write scenes out as they come to me (i usually envision climactic scenes very visually in my head and then write them out first lol) and then fill in the gaps/flesh out the storyline as i go. but since i got the idea for this fic and planned it out back before s2 came out and now s2 is out and canon’s been vastly expanded i’ll probably end up also borrowing some elements from s2 for my own storyline purposes just because if i’m being fully honest… i actually can’t tell you what ch3 of bcm and onwards is going to be like. i have vague notions of major plot points and the direction i want the story to take and fragments of later scenes in my docs but even as it stands now uncompleted bcm is the longest thing i’ve ever written (it’s 49k on ao3 and 60k in my docs) like… ever. i’m not used to finishing fics at all much less writing long fics (if bcm would count as one) so this is all very much new territory for me but everyone’s support and encouraging really helps keep me engaged and on track! including yours 🤍 in the event that the ending does drastically depart from what i’ve originally envisioned for it i probably will upload the alt ending separately. i’ve also sort of toyed with the idea of writing some scenes out from richie’s pov but if anything that’ll be something that comes much much later.

#this is so very very sweet it put a real big smile on my face as all your comments have <3 #it’s so crazy to me how much bcm has progressed since i first got the idea for it back when i first watched the show back in… last august?#something like that #i’m also very agonizingly and painstakingly perfectionistic which is why chaps are so long + updates take forever 🥴#but it really makes me so happy that my works have resonated with you and stayed in your mind all these months #maybe i will post the pwp. as a little treat for everyone who’s had to wait 7mos for this update #ask

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magpiejay1234 · 5 months ago

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ED2.

Life Stream Dragon appears here. IIRC the original plan according to rumors was to have it show up after the Misty Duel, to restore life, which would also likely be in-universe justification of all souls trapped in Earthbound Immortals being revived at the end of this arc.

(Of course, this would also mean Life Stream Dragon wasn't planned to be a Synchro Tuner.)

Crow is depicted with the main cast, but not a Signer. It is pretty clear in the Yoshida episodes that he intended Crow to become Dragon Head in replacement of Rex using the arm in a vat, hence why he is depicted as Crow's idol here, but rest of the production wanted to keep close to Takahashi's original intention, even though they scrapped the idea of Crow's prototype being the final boss of this arc back when the production started.

Crow being the Dragon Head causes huge issues, despite being narratively quite good, as Lua becoming the Heart of Crimson Dragon was not something planned in advance. Since Lua was designed to become a Signer, but had to lose the mark associated with him because of the early changes staff made to Takahashi's plans, the Life Stream Dragon's debut would be delayed for years.

However, going by later episodes, it seems part of the reason why Crow took so long become a Signer, and Lua took even longer in addition to staff still considering making Crow an antagonist (most likely a minor temporary one), there might have been still conflict about whether making Lua Dragon Head, or their eventual decision of introducing a new mark.

It seems the second idea was having Lua become a Signer before WRGP, presumably during the Skiel Duel, but that didn't materialise due to the mark issue, but also because that two-parter occured during the time show was showcasing cards that won the fan-made card contest (Chaos King Archfiend, Drill Synchron/Warrior, Splendid Rose, Bird of Roses, Morphtronic Vacuummen), which was set up during the end of Fortune Cup.

As for Black-Winged Dragon, we have a better idea. Its debut was on Episode 95, though that is the second part of a two parter, with Episode 94 being on January 27, 2010. This means its design was finalised around late June 2009 the latest (going by six month production cycles). This coincides with end of Dark Signers, and start of S3, meaning all the episodes from Ghost Duel to Crash Town were already written, and due to the production issues caused by BBT, they didn't go over the episode production, unlike the last minute changes to ZEXAL's ending.

However, calling Black-Winged Dragon "finalised" is a stretch, as its effect will apparently be different in episodes 95-121, and only become corrected to be like its OCG effect in episode 126. This probably means Episodes 126-154 were written in a different writing order, which also means the the way episodes are written, and the way episodes were actually produced was actually different, at least for the last stretch of 5D's.

Black-Winged Dragon's effect being different is not an issue caused by animé, but rather OCG, which delayed its card release to have Majestic Red Dragon (already debuted in Dark Signers arc) appear as the cover card of Absolute Powerforce, which also caused the Fake Jack two-parter to become a thing. Similar issue was caused by Chaos Neos in GX, despite being only appearing during Rainbow Dragon's debut Duel, it got its dedicated main set. Though there it was due to Gladiator's Assault coinciding with Supreme King mini arc, as Evil HEROes were instead moved to third Duelist Pack for Judai rather than a main set.

This would also explain how Yoshida found time to publish the first chapter of ZEXAL manga before ZEXAL animé.

This is also partially why Yuri's Starving Venom appears near end of S2, way before the Fusion arc, before its effect was finalised, in order avoid another affair like this.

Yoshida has his part to blame here, but the far bigger issue lays on Konami, and TVTokyo being weird about merchandising, which is, ironically enough, not primarily due to Blackwings, or Infernities, but Jack, and fan-made card contest (Bird of Roses is particularly amusing, as it forced Ruka to change her Deck concept from Fairies to regular Plants).

****

As for the actual ED2 animation, and song, they are pretty good. Check them out.

Though Misty is already showcased in her Dark Signer outfit there, Carly isn't yet.

Edit: Misty isn't in her Dark Signer outfit in ED2 yet, though she is in parts of OP2. This has been corrected.

Edit 2: Miswrote OP2 as OP1, haha.

#ygo random thoughts #shitposting

0 notes

danafeelingsick · 2 years ago

Note

Anon is back! Sorry for not being specific I was thinking writing actually

done, finally! sorry for the wait anon, and thanks for clarifying. i had too big of an idea for this, so the set-up took longer than i anticipated. and i haven't written anything for these two characters yet (although i've read plenty), so the first fic for a character is usually me trying to settle on headcanons and decide their voice, etc. now, i'm not the biggest advocate for ships, I'd rather stick to platonic stuff if i can help it, but this one. i had the meaning of ᵖᵘᵖᵖʸ ˡᵒᵛᵉ open in another tab as a wrote this. still can be read as both, you decide. hope you enjoy, ehe~

original request

ʜᴏᴛ sᴛᴜғғ

NON-KINK BLOGS AND MINORS DNI

In which Childe and Zhongli share a meal together, but Childe can't handle Liyue's food and spices very well.

ᴀᴏ3

ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢ alcohol consumption, descriptions of food, overeating, indigestion, stomach ache, belly rubs, back rubs, vomiting, induced vomiting, burping, throat finger!ng

ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ 6.8k~

❝ 𝙲𝚑𝚒𝚕𝚍𝚎 𝚕𝚞𝚛𝚌𝚑𝚎𝚍 𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚍 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚊 𝚐𝚞𝚝𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚊𝚕 𝚋𝚎𝚕𝚌𝚑 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚗𝚎𝚍 𝚠𝚎𝚝 𝚋𝚢 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚎𝚗𝚍, 𝚋𝚘𝚝𝚑 𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚜 𝚐𝚛𝚒𝚙𝚙𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚒𝚍𝚎𝚜 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚎𝚊𝚝 𝚊𝚜 𝚑𝚎 𝚑𝚞𝚛𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚍𝚕𝚢 𝚋𝚞𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚍 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚍 𝚒𝚗𝚜𝚒𝚍𝚎 𝚒𝚝.❞

Zhongli was an interesting man, Childe remarked, watching as he gracefully picked up another jade parcel off his plate, letting out a small hum of delight as he tasted it. He couldn't take his eyes off him.

His presence was the saving grace from what promised to be another long boring conference, filled to the brim with uptight bourgeois and pretentious assholes. Being a Harbinger, Childe didn't have the option to skip out.

Since he wasn't a noble, nor a retailer, Zhongli was there as simply an illustrious guest of the Wangsheng Funeral Parlor, lending his thoughtful advice to any who asked.

Childe had only met him a handful of times until now, but just the first had been enough to capture his attention. How couldn't he? His amber eyes were mesmerizing as he talked, bewitching him into listening to his buttery voice for hours on end.

Zhongli was a mysterious man. No one knew where he was from, and he would always find a way to skirt around the subject seamlessly, sending you back, in one way or another, to his rambling. The knowledge he possessed seemed endless, far more literate than any scholar Childe had met. And he would attribute all of it to a good memory.

Seemed like a lie, but he knew better than to put that man against the wall, even if he wanted to. Even if prying information out of unsuspecting mouths was his job, Zhongli left him powerless in that regard.

“Childe”, he heard him say from across the table they shared, their eyes suddenly meeting when he caught him staring. His heart nearly leaped out of his chest. “Since you've already finished your portion, care to try some of mine?”

“Sure, why not?” He accepted, his hope deflating when he saw Zhongli push the plate in his direction, instead of serving him as he had done on another rare occasion. “Is there something different about it?”

His smile was telling. “See if you can tell me.”

Childe picked up the appetizer and ate it, being careful to not squeeze it too much and destroy the outer layer of cabbage. It had happened before, the scraps on his plate were enough to cobble together another portion.

He focused on identifying whatever it was that Zhongli had asked for to be changed in the recipe, trying to capture the subtler notes under the spicy broth. Was the ham tasting just slightly sweeter?

“Did you ask for the ham to be cooked with honey?”, he risked it, trying a coy smile as he saw his thin eyebrows raise slightly under his dark hair. “Then what is it?”

“Honey would make the meat overly sweet, and the texture too soft. Not the chewy quality you usually get, it wouldn't pair well with the vegetables”, Zhongli explained, trailing the rim of his glass as he spoke, returning the smile as he glanced back. “But you were close. I asked if the chefs would add carrots alongside the ham as it cooked. You can taste the extra sweetness in the broth as well. It does make a difference, doesn't it?”

Childe agreed to simmer in the aftertaste of each appetizer as he nodded, eager to hear more of what Zhongli had to say. “Wouldn't you say–”, a lengthy gurgle interrupted his line of questioning, and Childe glanced down at his white stomach, sneaking out from under his unbuttoned blouse.

The both of them paused as Childe felt his face grow hotter.

Zhongli held back a soft chuckle as he saw the faint blush taking a hold of Childe's cheeks. “Looks like the appetizers weren't enough for you. Would you like to order the main dishes now?”

“Uh, yes. Sure”, Childe managed to say, clearing his throat one time too many behind his fist.

It happens. It wasn't a big deal. Zhongli had already laughed it off. He tried to tell himself, but that didn't stop the uneasy feeling from settling on his stomach.

Traveling was a large sum of Childe's responsibilities as a Harbinger, and with it came a small window of time for sightseeing. Sampling the local cuisine, however, was the part that left him feeling the most homesick. Since he had been assigned to stay in Liyue, the complaints of his digestive system had become more frequent. It took a handful of sleepless nights through an upset stomach to make him even consider food as a possibility.

Zhongli was able to get ahold of one of the waiters with a simple gesture of his hand, highlighting another reason why Childe enjoyed each one of their day dates, he seemed to have a way around people that was nothing short of magic. He wasn’t immune to it.

He watched as they exchanged brief greetings and Zhongli placed his order, speaking with his hands as he traced words on the menu. There was a glint to his amber eyes as he handed it to Childe, almost as if he was curious to see the choice he would make, now that he had listened to so many of his lessons on authentic Liyue culinary.

He realized he was right when Zhongli didn’t immediately offer him a suggestion and took the time to scrutinize each item on the list, twiddling with his chopsticks as he showed intrigue for a particular name on the list.

“I'll have the black back perch stew”, he said, the description of it grabbing his attention: a poached fish dish with jueyun chili pepper and diced vegetables.

He jumped at the opportunity of easing his homesickness. It sounded similar to something he would find back at Snezhnaya, but as he put the menu down, he didn’t find the muted smile on his teacher's face he was expecting.

“Wait, if it's not too much trouble, could you add a portion of rice buns as well?”, Zhongli asked, raising his hand to stop their waiter from leaving. He looked at Childe as he added: “As a palate cleanser.”

Zhongli had his stern expression back as he took a sip of his drink. Did he disapprove of his choice? Or had he just lost interest in their conversation? Childe couldn’t tell. That man could be a total mystery when he wanted to.

He glanced away, briefly running his eyes across the restaurant they were in, part of him wishing it could be only the two of them. Maybe if it wasn't for the constant chattering in the room, not exactly a disturbance but still an incessant buzz hanging in the air, Zhongli would be talking to him more.

Childe could still recall the way he greeted him, more enthusiastically than he had anticipated, unable to contain his toothy smile. And how they barely exchanged a few words before the two were swiftly separated by swarms of guests wanting to extend their courtesies. Took him a while to finally drag him to a fairly secluded table, and after he did it, they were able to finally have a chat and share a meal.

If only Childe's stomach would agree. The thing felt awkwardly tense inside his abdomen, almost as if it clenched as it anticipated food to fill it. He had never been nervous around people, hell, he was a diplomat in some sense of the word. It couldn't be it.

Perhaps his body knew even before his mind, but he couldn't help but fill his eyes with the sight as the food arrived, his dish being settled right in front of him. A deep bowl of thinly sliced white meat simmering in a bright red broth, diced vegetables floated along the surface, meticulously surrounding the pile of fish fillets in the center, the top sprinkled with the same fiery red dust.

Not exactly what he had in mind, but it looked appetizing nonetheless. He quickly took the chopsticks between his thumb and middle finger, struggling to pick off the filet at the top.

Zhongli was evaluating his food with precision, using his chopsticks to pick the meat apart as a slight frown curved his eyebrows. On the plate, as he quickly ruined the composition, were four squares of a reddish-brown braised pork meat, one of them already separated from the layer of fat and crispy on the top.

He tasted each separately, giving slow hums as he evaluated. Truly, Zhongli couldn't keep his critique off of anything he did, and Childe had yet to formulate an opinion on whether that was a bad thing.

“Is… something wrong with your food?”, Childe asked, gently blowing over the slice he was holding as he waited for it to cool down.

“Not at all”, Zhongli responded. “I asked if they would employ another technique of red-cooking, unlike the traditional one, which usually takes a long time”, he continued, thoroughly picking the scraps of the meat he had dismantled. “To my surprise, they were already using it.”

Childe hummed in response, looking at his plate now, then at the dripping meat between his chopsticks. He risked it and gobbled it down before he had the chance to drop it. The pepper was all he tasted at first.

“I suppose that leaves room for me to invite you out for a proper Tianshu Meat. If you would be willing to accompany me”, Zhongli offered simply, not a hint of hesitation in his voice, finally raising his eyes only to see his face blossoming into a pink shade. “Childe?”

He didn't respond immediately, his mouth hanging half-open behind his hand as he fanned himself, trying to blow around the burning in his tongue. Zhongli had to bite the inside of his cheek to prevent himself from laughing.

“It would be wise to–”, he tried to say, having to look away as the corners of his mouth wanted to turn on their own. “Wait until it is cold. Or is it too much for your tastes?”

It was a mixture of both, but Childe wasn't about to say that. Instead, he concentrated on carefully chewing and swallowing, the heat irradiating through his esophagus as he felt it slide down.

“I– I can handle it”, Childe responded, desperately downing the contents of his cup, the cold alcohol swarming his mouth and washing down the numb bitterness of the chilies.

“You can have the rice buns if it's too much”, Zhongli suggested, managing to muffle his smile for good.

Childe was right about to protest when he thought again about the offer, his hand slightly shivering as he took another fillet and a steamed bun in the other hand, alternating between the two.

Zhongli was right, the soft texture of the rice and its subtle sweetness made the pepper bearable, allowing him to enjoy the little hints of flavor in his dish. The meat was juicy and tender, something he would thoroughly enjoy if it wasn't for the abominable amount of spice in that hellish mixture. He was right once again.

They exchanged brief words as they ate, mostly Zhongli commenting on the technique used in the making of his food, reinforcing his promise to take him out for a proper taste of that delicacy. Childe tried to keep up, adding in a few questions here and there, but while he divulged, he couldn't help but feel a slight discomfort settling in his stomach.

Zhongli had already finished his meal by the time Childe got two-thirds through his, but thankfully not his speech. So kept explaining the vast history behind the plate he had ordered, and the many, many alterations it had gone through before reaching the plates of Liyue's restaurant.

Childe listened intently as he slowly munched at a rice bun, his throat starting to feel somewhat tight as his appetite slowly faded away. But he pushed through, trying to focus on the better aspects of the plate, at the tender texture of the fish and the mastery in the cut, the faint taste he could identify under all the pepper. That was about it.

In no time the lack of flavor on the rice buns, or rather, the numbness of his palate turned the munching and munching of the treat into a grating task. He struggled to swallow, feeling as if it wouldn't go down fully, just sitting over his stomach, sticking to his ribs.

He was sweating by this point, feeling the droplets gathering on his brow, but he wasn't about to give up. Childe had been raised to never let food go to waste, and even after becoming a harbinger, these teachings remained with him. He fought through it, managing to gobble down all the fillets in his bowl, now left with a bright red broth of pepper and vegetables floating on its surface.

“Oh, are you planning on drinking it?”, Zhongli stopped his rant to ask, sounding more intrigued than he had anticipated.

“Am I not supposed to?”, Childe inquired with the bowl halfway to his mouth.

“I've been told it can be too spicy, even for Liyue's standards”, he responded, resting his chin on his hand. He couldn't help the interest in his eyes as he saw Childe take the first sip.

It felt like alcohol ablaze going down his throat, like drinking molten lava straight from the pyro archon's mouth. His throat spasmed as the hellish broth went down, scorching his esophagus and sending an agonizing heat spreading through his body, falling inside his stomach like molten glass.

It was torture. But it was worth it as he saw the amused look on Zhongli's face as he settled the bowl down, simmering in the taste of the burning squirming flesh of his tongue. Childe endured a few seconds before he hurriedly shoved the last of the steamed buns in his mouth, placating the burn as he chewed slowly. Add another full glass of booze to the mixture.

Zhongli had a perplexed look when he next spoke. “You see, I underestimated you. It is rare to see the bowl empty like that.”

“Oh?”, Childe couldn't help the cocky smirk creeping to his lips. “Am I special or something?”

“Well, it is novel to see a foreigner handle Liyue's spices so well, even locals sometimes can't finish it”, he explained while he ran a napkin over the corners of his mouth. “But tell me your thoughts. I've heard great things about this dish.”

”The dishes from my homeland can be spicy as well. It's nothing new to me”, Childe remarked, noting his voice had become coarse. He went to refill his cup, but stopped midway and raised an eyebrow. “Wait, you've never had it? I find that hard to believe.”

“I've had it once or twice, but it wasn't to my liking”, he confessed, coming off harsher than he meant to. “It can be a particularly tricky dish if the fish isn't done right.”

“I'd rather you don't say it”, Childe said half-jokingly, feeling the heat still spreading from the inside of his abdomen. The last thing he needed now was reminding his stomach of its weakness.

Zhongli seemed confused for a moment, slightly tilting his head to the side as he studied his words. Childe thought he was still looking at him but after a few moments, he noticed his eyes following some movement right behind him.

Then he noticed the sound of approaching footsteps, and his hair stood on end as a hand came to rest on his shoulder. Zhongli raised his eyes to greet the newcomer, a polite yet stiff smile stamped on his lips.

“Mr. Zhongli? How long has it been?”

It took Childe about one second to decide he didn't like their new friend, as they let go of him and pulled a chair, immediately engaging Zhongli in what sounded like pointless chatter to him. Something about an upcoming ceremony? Whatever it was, he stopped listening as soon as they started speaking.

Childe could only hope the annoyance wasn't clear on his face as it was inside his head. He was clenching his teeth as he went to take a sip of his drink. In no time he had already drained the cup and was already going for more.

It wasn't uncommon. Mr. Zhongli was a connoisseur of countless topics, after all, it would be a surprise if at least one of their meetings didn't have the mandatory asshole to interrupt them. Sometimes they would even hunt him down while they dined somewhere private, and while Zhongli was always quick to dismiss them, Childe couldn't help but feel their time together was growing thin whenever this happened.

He let out a longing sigh, frowning when he felt his breath sting the inside of his mouth. That discomfort in his belly was steadily growing, making itself more noticeable as he could now equate that bothersome feeling of fullness to the first signs of indigestion. It had always lingered there, as he filled up on the appetizers they had ordered together, now, after that whole meal it had reached its peak. That had been a mistake, Childe was one to confuse a belly ache with hunger more often than not.

It was clear now that it wasn't hunger, as he eyed his stomach from under the table, seeing that it seemed tighter, a volume almost noticeable under his poor choice of clothing. He regretted bitterly now, not picking something he could button fully, instead opting for what he thought looked best.

Maybe it was the few cups of alcohol he had, but he was now hyper-aware of the sensation of the food churning inside his stomach, the walls of it cramping as it struggled to break down the overly complicated dish. Normally he could handle it, even the heartburn taking a hold of his esophagus, but today his belly seemed to have it out for him.

Childe quickly realized this wouldn't just go away. He could feel bubbles shifting inside his stomach, uncomfortably moving like a bottle of soda being shaken. The mental image was enough to make him press his lips into a thin lip, his cheeks filling as he contained a burp that threatened to slip past him suddenly. It tasted faintly acidic as he felt it burst over his tongue, bringing with it a taste of the pepper sitting atop his stomach, but he did his best not to think of what it meant.

That wasn't good. Childe didn't have it in him to keep up the appearances, he could feel the color draining from his face as more burps slipped out, and he did his best to slowly release the air without making much of a sound. The irony, now he wished the chattering of the party was louder.

A dull pain had sprouted in his upper abdomen, derived from that burning fullness previously there, and now it was a full-blown ache just above his belly button. He snagged another look only to find out his once pale lean stomach had acquired a slightly pinkish tone as it stretched out, almost quivering with each breath he took.

Childe couldn't help the scowl he had on. Normally he would have a little window of time before the stomach trouble started, he would be able to get back to his home, try some home remedy he still remembered, and attempt to sleep before the noises started. But now, even before he ate, his gut was already stubbornly gurgling, and now he could almost see the sound rippling across the surface of his packed abdomen.

Slowly, he placed a hand there, noting how tense the organ felt under the skin, almost hard, the spasms of it quite noticeable, almost pushing back under his palm. His fingers distractedly sank into the flesh, trying to massage out the cramps, feeling the different points of tension slightly relaxing under his touch. It felt good despite the obvious threat of someone spotting him, but he could tell it was doing little to nothing to help.

As soon as he rubbed on a specific spot, a particularly stubborn pocket of air, a belch quickly traveled up his throat, tearing itself free from his lips as if someone had just gut-punched him.

He felt like he was going to vomit if he kept prodding. Which threw him off because the feeling of nausea wasn't there yet, but he felt so overly full any sudden movements would have him doubling over. He tried his best to keep the idea of puking away from his mind.

The ache only seemed to deepen further into his digestive system, and shivers crept under his clothes, leaving his feeling smoldered by his attire, his waistline felt way tighter than when this whole thing had started.

Childe cursed under his breath, keeping his head down as he tried to convince himself this wasn't happening. It couldn't be happening. He should have a little more time, just a little more time before–

His introspection was cut by a long gurgle he caught in the middle, and before any had the chance to turn their heads, he slipped away from his seat, turning on his heels as he speed-walked away from the table.

***

Finding a bathroom to camp out his sickness wasn't a difficult task, but it took Childe a little longer than he would in perfect health. He was muttering curses in his mother tongue as he pried past other guests, making a bee-line for the door as he saw it.

The door opened and shut, and shortly after light came flooding into the small room.

He sat over the lid of the toilet and buried his head in his hands, trying to breathe around the growing nauseating pain in his abdomen. The embarrassment kept nagging at him, like a small voice on his ear, biting as it wanted him to sink further into himself.

Childe sucked in a shuddering breath between his teeth, feeling as if his stubborn meal was sitting atop his stomach, breathing along with him. Air bubbled at the back of his throat, and he slowly opened his mouth, allowing burps to seep past him, in hopes of clearing a little room in the already overtaxed organ.

Childe slumped forward, wrapping his arms tightly around his middle as he heard it gurgle once more. His stomach was churning restlessly, sending nausea rolling over him in waves he had to swallow back constantly.

The root of his tongue was burning, a devilish broth of stomach acid and pepper raising and falling at the back of his throat, like the ocean bathing the side of a ship, threatening to seep into the deck. It wanted out, and the more he tried to deny it, the worse it would be.

Childe slowly got to his knees, raising the lid of the toilet and letting his head hang over it. The light wasn't enough for him to see his reflection, and to that he was grateful. A trickle of spittle landed on the water, ripples disturbing across its surface as the odd colored gob sat atop, too dense to mix with it.

His dinner was trying to kill him. He could feel it trying to claw its way out, pain irradiating from his upper abdomen to his chest, refusing to go down and continue the digestion. It sat there like a piece of volcanic debris, making him sweat, but no matter how much he waited, it wouldn't come up on its own.

He groaned, clutching at his belly as it cramped, leaving him breathless as the pain persisted no matter how much he wished it away. He tried giving himself careful rubs at first, then he tried kneading at the knots, gently at first, then impatiently shortly after. All it did was earn a few short burps out of him.

Still, he pressed on, his fingers sinking into the plush flesh of his abdomen, pushing harder as the air rushing out of him turned hotter, then quickly wet.

He gasped and spat out, hopeless as it wasn't anything more than a small bubble of acid burst at the back of his throat. Feeling nauseous and miserable, he strung an arm over the seat and rested his forehead against the meat of his forearm, his mouth hanging open as he waited for a little mercy.

***

Childe groaned as he heard the knock on the door, a cold fear taking hold of him as he realized he hadn't locked it. He didn't have the energy to get up and lock it now, nor did he have the time.

With a second knock, the door slowly crept open, and he heard a familiar voice calling his name. This couldn't be happening.

He heard the door close again, the key turn, then steps made their way to him. A faint sigh could be heard leaving the visitor's lips.

“Mr… Zhongli?”, Childe groaned, tilting his head to the side to find the man looming over him, then shortly after, kneeling by his side. “W-What are you doing here?”

He didn't respond immediately, roving his eyes over the pitiful form latching onto the toilet bowl as if it had become a decoration to it. His light grey suit had turned a darker shade where sweat formed wet spots, soaking through the fabric as his body seemingly short-circuited under the challenge of digesting such a dish.

“You've been gone for a while”, Zhongli informed, frowning as he laid eyes on the pitiful state he had found his friend in. “Are you okay? Were you feeling unwell?”

“Y-You should leave…”, Childe forced out promptly, his voice deeply slurred with nausea.

Zhongli spent another brief moment in silence, watching as Childe's hand clawed at his stomach, his breaths sharp as he inhaled between his teeth. Gently, he laid a hand on his back, feeling his clothes damp with sweat and his muscles trembling under the fabric, he was shivering from what seemed like exhaustion.

An unheard hiccup jostled his torso, making Zhongli hesitate as he heard him groan under his touch, further curling into himself as he clawed into his stomach, riding out the pain of another cramp.

Gently, Zhongli tried separating his hand, carefully prying it away from his middle.

“Calm down, you'll only hurt yourself like this”, he said softly, holding the trembling limb by the wrist. “Your stomach is bothering you, isn't it?”

“I-It sounds like it…”, Childe commented, mustering a small pained chuckle that sounded more like a yelp. “This is… ugh. You really should go back.”

“You may say that, but you don't look well enough for me to leave you”, Zhongli pointed out, reminding him of the hand resting on his back, grounding him in his presence. “Are you sure you want me to go?”

Childe remained in silence for a moment, staring at the undisturbed water underneath him, wishing this would be over sooner.

“No…”, he finally said, whispering. “You can– You can stay….”

Zhongli hummed in response, seemingly satisfied for the moment. An admission that his company there was desired, it eased his worry for a moment, only to multiply it as he realized Childe didn't strike him as someone capable of asking for help, not even his help, not even at a time like this.

“Now, could you tell me what you are feeling, exactly?”, Zhongli inquired, his voice soothing and gentle, instructing him into relaxing before he tried to speak.

“I feel… sick”, Childe groaned, glancing away as he could hear how pathetic and small he sounded. “I think it was that… spicy dish. My-My stomach still hasn't settled from it. It, uh… it just won't digest.”

Zhongli hummed low in his throat, taking pity on the man's suffering, and yet, he couldn't relate to the sentiment. It sounded foreign to him. But seeing Childe so miserable, his face pale and glistening in sweat, his eyes glassy with unshed tears, he couldn't help but feel a pang of guilt over not realizing it sooner.

“Does it hurt here?”, Zhongli asked, the hand that used to be on his back drifting towards his midriff, hovering over it as he eyed him for permission. “May I?”

“Uh… hm-hum…”, Childe nodded, clenching his abdomen as he felt his warm hand rest over it, the touch sending an almost electrifying sensation through his body. His fingers crawled under his blouse, settling onto the curve of his abdomen where his bloated gut sat. “Ah…”

“Calm now…”, Zhongli whispered, feeling through his glove the muscles of his stomach pulling and twisting, something shifting inside, the organ tense as it kept spasming. “It does seem… painful”, he remarked.

“Ugh… it happens… a lot, actually”, Childe groaned, his voice airy as he fought to stabilize it, Zhongli's hand on his belly making it hard to think of anything else. “I think Liyue's food just doesn't agree with me”, he blurted out, immediately regretting it.

But to his surprise, Zhongli simply raised an eyebrow, confusion showing on his face. “You should've told me that sooner. We could've asked for a dish to be changed, It wouldn't be an issue.”

“Well, it's a bit… late for that now”, Childe panted and his stomach groaned in accordance. “Besides, I'm not even sure what exactly it was… ugh.”

“Have you tried making yourself vomit yet?”, Zhongli suggested, applying a subtle pressure to Childe's belly that had him slightly squirming, rebelling against the hand wrapped around his wrist.

“...no”, he panted, feeling like his mind was racing and slowing down at the same time. “I'm… nauseous, but– guh, it isn't enough to make me– hah!”, he let out a yelp as Zhongli suddenly sunk his open palm into his stomach, applying a bit more force than before. “D-Don't, don– uurrrp.”

Childe lurched forward with a guttural belch that turned wet by the end, both hands gripping the sides of the seat as he hurriedly buried his head inside it. Scorching hot vomit burned its way out of his mouth, staining the water below with a bright red greasy broth that spread like paint.

He stared, wide-eyed as it trickled out of his mouth, each drip adding more color to the water. It tasted utterly revolting, much like pure undiluted acid, the pepper laced in it only contributing to the corrosion.

“Don't do this… without warning”, he panted, tears prickling in his eyes like grains of salt.

“Well, I do apologize”, Zhongli quickly said, sounding slightly surprised. “But, are you feeling any better?”

“Ah… not much”, he moaned, spitting into the water, his face crumpled in disgust as his tongue burned anew. “It– ugh, I don't think it was enough.”

“Would you rather I use my fingers instead?”, Zhongli proposed, unblinking, making Childe feel as if he was being smoldered by the heat of his presence. “It'll do you no good to keep holding onto it.”

The sickly man felt his face flush a deeper red, crumbling into a frown as his stomach gurgled loudly again.

“You would do that?”, he said, finally, almost incredulous as he eyed Zhongli's unchanging expression of muted concern. He nodded, slowly retrieving the hand resting on his back and bringing it to his mouth, pulling his black glove off. “A-Alright then.”

Childe still hesitated, hearing Zhongli move closer and position himself almost directly behind him, one arm lacing around him and bringing a hand to his lips.

He opened his mouth fully, allowing his fingers to enter and trail the curve of his tongue as they went deeper, his throat locking involuntary as he tried to pry into his esophagus.

He gagged almost instantly, his throat clenching harshly around him as he let out a struggling retch, the sound coming out muffled and pained.

He regretted not telling him to be gentle, for Zhongli barely waited for him to breathe before he started moving his fingers in and out. Slowly at first, hearing the wet sounds of his throat spasming, trying to push out the intruding appendage. He gagged again, his tongue driving back as his stomach jumped under it, the motion sending a throbbing ache across his abdomen.

“Go on…”, Zhongli whispered, almost as if permitting him as he threaded deeper, petting the tender slick flesh coating the back of his throat.

That seemed to do it, the feeling of his fingers grazing the inside of his neck like that, had his eyes rolling back on his skull as another gag broke him. He tore away from Zhongli's hand as he lurched forward, retching violently into the bowl before he could finally bring anything up, vomit poured out of him like a faucet, splashing into the water.

It tasted revolting, Childe struggled to block out the burning sensation in his tongue as the gush of murky red liquid spewed out of him. It seemed endless at first, unstopping as if Zhongli had somehow managed to unclog his throat. Childe barely had a second to rest, as soon as the fluid part of it tapered off, he could feel a volume building up, and quickly, he started choking on a heavier thick mush.

He struggled to get it up, but now his stomach wasn't showing any signs of stopping, it kept jumping as his retching kept tossing it around. And Zhongli's hand under his shirt, pressing an open palm right under his solar plexus, not giving him any chance to catch his breath.

What had become of those steamed rice buns lazily drizzled out of his tongue as he coughed and coughed to rid his throat of the blockage, a subtle taste of fermentation under that numbness of pepper, almost overpowering the alcohol mixed with it. Along with chunks of undigested fish meat, clumps of rice dough and chewed mushy vegetables floated across the top of the dense mixture, tainted by the acids of his stomach, but barely different than what it had looked like going in.

Zhongli slowly settled his now free, saliva-coated hand on Childe's back, feeling him heave violently, his shoulders rolling forward as he kept spewing. Each cough seemed to run a pike through his back, he flinched with every sound, feeling Childe's stomach writhing with each motion, almost throbbing as it cowered before the next, and his lungs compressing painfully as he gasped for air.

Zhongli was having difficulty ignoring that disgustingly sour, almost rancid smell of fish. It sent his stomach in loops, his throat bobbing up and down as he kept swallowing against the disgust.

And still, he was almost morbidly curious to see just how much Childe was able to store in that otherwise lean stomach.

The motions of his abdomen, rolling and clenching as he gasped and choked, the organ underneath it jumping. He could very much feel the walls of his stomach contracting, it seemed painful even for him, but there was still an almost inhuman interest in him, wanting to know for how long this would carry out.

So he kept pushing against it, noticing his motion would result in an increased volume of the ongoing wave Childe was purging, or wet-sounding burps erupting out of him or strangled retches each time he sank his palm into his skin.

“There you are”, Zhongli whispered gently, managing to mask the disgust in his voice, running his hand up and down his spine as he noticed the shivers it would cause. “Keep going… get it all out.”

Childe took his advice to heart and mustered another sizable gush of vomit, this one purely pieces of chewed white meat and the now faint red of the broth, hitting the water as a dense pinkish paste that clogged his gullet on the way out. He tried not to look, but each retch would force his eyes open, leaving him disoriented, his head pounding mercilessly. The whole episode was sapping his strength little by little.

“There you go…”, Zhongli encouraged, tapping his back lightly and nearly wincing as he felt Childe cough under him.

His mouth was hanging open, mercifully allowing vomit to drizzle out as he forced his throat open, trying to breathe around the sharp ache each retch would sprout in his middle. His head felt heavy, pounding restlessly as the now intense nausea clouded his senses. He barely noticed when the vomiting tapered off, standing there coughing, head hanging limply over the edge as drool hung from his lips in thick threads.

Despite nothing else coming up, Childe kept gagging over the toilet, the vision of barely digested food forming a thick layer over the water, and the realization that it all had come from him just disgusted him to the point his stomach wouldn't quit it.

And Zhongli's hand still pushing on him wouldn't let him rest, he must've not realized there was nothing left in there, given how deflated he looked now. His stomach throbbed viciously like an open wound, making him feel as if his inside had been thoroughly scooped out.

Weakly, one of his hands fell from the seat, fumbling with Zhongli's as he tried to pry off his fingers from his sensitive midriff, but it seemed like he couldn't get a good grip on him.

“Y-You're… hurting–”, he tried to warn, but just the shaky motion had him weakly gagging into the bowl, a trickle of pure bile dripping from his mouth.

“Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't realize…”, Zhongli hurriedly said, letting go of his stomach as he slid his hand out of his blouse, lingering for only a moment. He discreetly cleared his throat.

“It's… okay”, Childe muttered, his voice nearly gone, spent by coats upon coats of acid wearing out his throat, leaving it in rags. It hurt to talk, so he resorted to just groaning over the near lake of his former dinner.

He clumsily spat into the bowl, trying to ride his mouth off that vile taste. His lips burned with the residue of pepper, there was some stuck in his sinuses too, but no matter how much he spat it wouldn't clear.

Grimacing, he slowly raised his torso, going to clean his mouth with the back of his hand, but Zhongli quickly produced a folded paper. The man gently grabbed his chin and lifted his face, thoroughly cleaning the corners of his mouth and chin. “S-Sorry, you had to see this…”

“Don't worry about me”, Zhongli said tenderly, mustering a polite smile as he balled the paper and threw it inside the toilet. He grabbed another piece for good measure and handed it to Childe. “Is there… uh, do you think you are done?”,

“Yeah, I– I think so…”, he responded, spitting into the bowl once more.

“Then, can you walk on your own?”, Zhongli inquired as he leaned to flush the toilet, avoid looking inside of it he pulled the lever, sending vomit and alcohol mixing with the water into a whirlpool.

“If I say no…”, Childe started, watching as the contents of his stomach swirled in the water, disappearing with the current. “Will you carry me?”

“I think you can walk just fine, Childe”, he responded playfully, although his tone came out more cynical than he planned, to which Childe pouted, returning the playfulness. He couldn't help but find it oddly endearing given how red his face was and how wet his eyes looked. “But I'll help you at least.”

Zhongli wrapped both arms around Childe and helped him stand, placing one hand on his shoulder and the other on his chest to stabilize him. The man swayed in place, grabbing onto the wall for extra support. “I wish I could stay here 'till this shitty party is over.”

“I'm sure it'll be fine if you leave now”, Zhongli speculated, shooting Childe a sympathetic look. He still looked pale, his back slightly curved protectively over his middle. “How are you feeling?”

“Just… a little light-headed”, he whispered under bated breath, holding the square of paper over his mouth, as the neutral smell of it calmed his stomach just a little. “But I think I'll be fine, I can make it home.”

“If you say so”, Zhongli said finally, almost coldly as he guided Childe out of the bathroom.

“Listen, if anyone asks, can you say I'm drunk or something?” he asked in a hushed tone as they reentered the salon, a thousand stares glued to his neck. “It's less embarrassing.”

“You wouldn't be too far off”, Zhongli remarked. “But consider skipping the alcohol next time, green tea would do you much better if you have a fragile stomach.”

“It's not fragile, I'm just not used to it”, Childe retorted, disgruntled, trying not to raise his voice, but Zhongli only returned a coy look. “Next time? Hah, you're still willing to go out with me after that whole show?”

“Why would I not?”, Zhongli raised an eyebrow.

Caught off guard again, Childe glanced away, slightly pouting when he saw Zhongli give a soft chuckle to his reaction. That man. He could be charming when he wanted to.

#emeto #emetophilia #vomiting #burping #overeating #indigestion #stomach ache whump #gen/shin imp/act #chil/de tarta/glia gen/shin imp/act #zhon/gli gen/shin imp/act #can be read as platonic or romantic #romantic caretaking #caretaking #tw food mention #tw alcohol mention #tw vomit #dana//emeto fic #my writing

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egcdeath · 4 years ago

Text

finders keepers

summary: did captain america just steal your cat?

pairing: steve rogers x reader

word count: 2.5k

warnings: tooth rotting fluff, strangers to lovers

author’s note: it’s been way too long since i wrote some pure, self indulgent fluff. this has been quite the refreshing experience for me but i think it’s back to our regularly scheduled program after this ;)

you can find my masterlist and taglist here

Miso had an air of arrogance that you admired. She took the world by its kitty balls, doing whatever she pleased whenever she pleased. Your cat left the apartment for sometimes days at a time, and frequently led male cats to your door. To you, your cat was more like a roommate than a pet, hogging up most of your bed, standing on the counter while you attempted to make food for yourself, and leaving most areas dirtier than she originally found it.

Okay, maybe you were personifying your cat a little too much. But after moving out to D.C., you were unspeakably lonely. Most days, it felt like Miso was all you had, and that you were all Miso had (save for her army of cat boyfriends).

This made things all the more concerning for you when you’d realized that you hadn’t seen your cat companion in five days. Five whole days without the comforting vibration of her purr, her ungodly hours of wakeup calls demanding to be played with, or pet. The cherry on top was that the cat food outside your door appeared to be completely untouched.

In your frenzied realization of your missing cat, your mind raced with a thousand different terrible situations your dear Miso could’ve found herself in. You frantically clicked through pictures of her on an online album and attempted to find a photo that would capture her white fur with large blobs of auburn, and her vibrant blue eyes to put on your ‘MISSING’ sign. The longer you clicked, the more that you began to worry that she had been caught and kidnapped by some terrible person with bad intentions.

You finally threw together the poster, sending it to your phone so that you could print it off at the OfficeMax down the street. Luckily for you, you didn’t make it that far, as the moment you began to lock the closed door of your apartment, you saw the unmistakable figure of your cat.

In the arms of your neighbor.

Now, you’d never met Steve. He was an Avenger, Captain America to be exact, and you were just… you. You’d convinced yourself that attempting to introduce yourself to him would ultimately end in failure, and an embarrassing one at that. Maybe he’d scoff and walk away, or call Tony Stark in front of you and tell him about the crazy woman he just encountered.

But none of that mattered. Captain America was stealing your fucking cat.

“Excuse me, sir?” You asked, stepping away from your door and approaching the Greek God of a man to the right of you.

“Oh, hey! We must be n-“

“You have my cat,” you said bluntly.

“I’m sorry, what?” Steve seemed to do a double take

“My cat, y’know, the feline in your arms.”

“Well, maybe we just have similar looking cats. This is Arabella.”

You nearly scoffed at this, shaking your head. First, Captain America kidnapped your cat, and now he’s trying to convince you that it’s not your cat? Yeah, you’d know Miso from a mile away. And what kind of name is Arabella?

“Arabella is a great name for her,” Steve retorted, pulling the cat closer to his chest. Shit, did you say that out loud?

“Well I think it’s time for Miso to come back home,” the cat’s ears perked at this, and she glanced over at you. The sight of you made her wiggle and hop out of Steve’s tight embrace, landing on her feet and trotting over to you. The damn cat rubbed her face against your calf and purred as if she hadn’t been cheating on you for long enough to have gained a new name.

You squatted down and rubbed the back of your hand against her cheek, and shook your head at your pet, “you’re getting put on probation, young lady.”

She didn’t seem to mind, pacing back and forth around you. You glanced up and saw Steve with a rather neutral expression on his face, as if he was masking whatever it was that he was feeling.

“I’m sorry about that, ma’am. Uh, maybe I’ll see you both around sometime,” disappointment coated his every word before he opened up his apartment door and promptly closed it behind him.

You were surprised at how quickly he conceded, but you weren’t particularly mad about it either. You weren’t sure what you’d do if you never got your Miso back.

——

A whole day later, you’d been in your apartment typing up an email when a soft rapping at your door got your attention.

“Just a second!” you called, hopping up and hurrying to the door. When you opened it, Steve was standing in front of you, waiting with an oversized box in his hands.

“These are some of Ar- Miso?” he trailed off, waiting for you to confirm the name, and you gave him a tiny nod. “These are some of Miso’s toys. I just figured if she’s not staying at my place anymore…”

As if on cue, Miso strolled up to the door, and stretched her arms up on Steve’s leg, begging to be picked up. The man glanced at you for approval, and you gave a dismissive shrug before he set down the box, and held up the cat.

Steve frowned as he held her, and frankly, it pulled on your heart strings. You had to remind yourself that this man had been holding your cat captive for at least a week, and at most… who knows.

She clearly had a connection with him, and that was what intrigued you most. Miso was a very picky cat, and it was only occasionally that she found someone that she genuinely liked, let alone wanted to be picked up by. If you continued to watch the display of affection in front of you, you might just cave.

“Uh, I left something in the oven for a little too long, so I should probably go get that. Thanks for stopping by.”

Steve nodded, understanding that it was time for him to exit.

——

You should’ve seen this coming the minute Miso was back in your home. You stepped out of the shower one morning to find your front door slightly ajar, and your animal nowhere to be found.

You huffed, frustrated that just three days after you told yourself that your cat was completely indoor from that point on, she had escaped. She could literally be anywhere at this point.

In a whirlwind, you threw on a sweatshirt and pants, ready to go print out the missing posters that you had designed just a few days ago. As you slipped on sneakers, you realized something very crucial. She might just be at Steve’s place.

You groaned aloud, rubbing your temple as you thought of how difficult your cat was being. You were becoming a bit nervous to approach Steve, you hadn’t gotten off to the greatest start, and if your cat wasn’t there, things might just be awkward.

Regardless, you knew you needed to try, so you exited your own home, and knocked on the door of Steve’s.

A few moments later, he appeared with your cat in tow.

“Hey!” he paused and trailed off, “I never got your name before.”

“That’s what you care about right now?” you glanced down at your animal. “It’s Y/N, by the way.”

“Hi, Y/N. Miso and I were just enjoying breakfast, if you’d like to join us?”

Was Steve shooting his shot?

“I appreciate your offer, but I think I’m alright. I have to get back to work, and my cat is still in your custody,” your eyes flickered down to the animal who stood proudly by his side.

“Maybe some other time,” he shrugged. “You work from home?”

You nodded, then squatted down to get eye level with your cat.

“I’m jealous,” he chuckled. “Alright, I’ll stop bothering you now. Bye Miso, see you around, Y/N.”

You picked up your cat, who briefly dug her nails into the ground in resistance before submitting to her capture. As you brought her back home, you couldn’t help but wonder if you’d made the right choice.

——

Ever since you’d discovered Miso, or Arabella’s secret life, it’s like you couldn’t stop noticing her connection to Steve.

Some days, she’d be gone until the dead of night, when she’d meow and paw at your front door until you woke up. Other times she’d be laying in bed with you, and she smelled distinctly of your neighbor. Your cat had single handedly turned a stranger into a thoroughly integrated part of your life.

It was as if Miso was now your child, and Steve your ex-husband in a Cold War style custody battle, where Miso seemed to prefer her father. It was slightly disheartening. At the very least, you knew she was in good hands.

You held a throw pillow to your chest while you watched a rerun of a sitcom on your television, procrastinating in your work for as long as you possibly could. The sound of a knock on your door pulled you from your trance, and as you peeked through the peephole of your door, you saw a slightly distorted Steve.

Opening up the door, you gave him just the faintest hint of a smile, “what’s up, neighbor? Need me to grab you some treats for Arabella, or something?”

“Kinda the opposite,” he gestured with his head down to the cat squirming in his hands. “I’m gonna be gone on a mission for the next week or so. I just wanted to let you know that if Miso gets out, she’s not with me.”

Steve set her down on your carpet, and she happily collapsed at your feet, “keep her safe for me, alright?”

——

You took a deep breath as you approached his door, hoping he hadn’t left just yet. You fiddled with the sticky note containing your number, and polaroid photo of your cat in your hand, considering turning around and scrapping the idea all together.

It was silly to think that an Avenger would ever bother reaching out to you. You were probably overstepping anyway. Steve would think you were a freak and take full custody of your beloved Miso once and for all.

Going against your better judgment, you set down the polaroid-note combo and quickly slid it under Steve’s door. Whatever happened happened.

The next morning, you were pleased to receive a notification from an unknown number.

Send Miso pics?

You were more than happy to oblige.

——

Over the course of Steve’s week-long mission, you’d sent several pictures and videos of your cat doing random things. Trying to get on the table, sleeping on top of your dryer, and even playing with one of the toys Steve provided.

Surprisingly, Steve wasn’t as dry of a texter as you thought he’d be. He was eating up all of the Miso content, and would occasionally even ask for you to send more photos.

The final night of his mission, you were surprised when you received a FaceTime request, at first writing it off as a technical error (he was from a different time period, after all), but the follow up call demonstrated his intentions.

You cautiously picked up, the knot in your stomach growing as you did so, “hello?”

“Hi!” Steve greeted optimistically, the phone just a bit too close to his face. “Any Miso sightings?”

“Yeah, she’s actually sleeping on my foot right now,” you chuckled, flipping the camera so you could show her off in your dim, lamp-lit bedroom.

“So cute,” he hummed, “how have you been?”

“Me?” you laughed quietly, “I’m not the one on a top secret mission in god-knows-where. But I’ve been fine. How are you?”

“Honestly? I’m pretty tired. Kinda can’t wait to get home and see you and Miso,” he said in a quieter voice.

Your brain stalled out for a second. Steve was excited to see you? You hoped that you were reading this the right way, as you were more than willing to go with whatever it was that Steve was putting down.

“We’ll be expecting an immediate visit from you, then. I’ll let Miso know that she needs to start kneading a bread loaf for you as soon as possible. Any idea of what time you’re getting into D.C.?”

“Probably late morning, but it really depends on when Natasha gets up.”

You had a moment where you realized that you were talking to a real life superhero, and he had just referenced his friend… who was also a superhero. You paused for a second.

“Y/N? Hey, you still here?”

“Yeah! Yeah. I just zoned out for a sec. Well, you better get here safe or else someone is going to be very annoyed with you.”

Steve laughed softly across the line, and you adjusted yourself in bed, yawning softly.

“I’m sorry, I forgot how late it is over there,” Steve apologized.

“Don’t worry, I was up anyway. One of Miso’s boyfriends is pretty upset that he can’t come in here and spend the night with her.”

“Which one?”

“I think that grey one. I don’t really know what his voice sounds like, but she’s been leading him on lately,” you responded, eliciting a laugh from both you and Steve.

“Try to get some sleep, okay? I don’t need you snoozing while I come to visit our girl.”

“You are something else, Steve Rogers,” you said fondly, adjusting your phone one last time as you hugged a pillow. “I’ll get to sleep. See you tomorrow.”

“See you tomorrow. Sweet dreams, Y/N.”

You hung up, and cuddled into your pillow with a sigh. Calling your dreams that night sweet was an understatement.

——

You seemed to be Steve’s first stop after his mission, stopping at your door with his duffel bag still attached to his arm, and wearing a slightly dirty and much too small white t-shirt.

Expecting his presence, you quickly got the door and gave him a toothy grin.

“It’s so good to see your face without a screen,” Steve commented. Internally, you swooned.

“I could say the same for you, Steve.”

Miso had been summoned by the sound of Steve’s voice, practically sprinting to the door and meowing at him on the top of her lungs.

“Miso really appreciates you coming here to see her first,” you added as he lifted her up and quietly cooed into her wrinkly head. “Feel free to take her for the next few days. I’m sure she’s getting tired of me.”

Steve shook his head at you, and grinned, “that’s so sweet of you,” he briefly looked down at his wristwatch, and his brows raised.

“Shit. I have to go, but I promise to see you soon. I’m glad to see that everything is well. Take care, Y/N,” Steve began making his way back to his own apartment, and you watched him with the semblance of a frown.

You really needed to stop longing for the unobtainable.

——

You hadn’t heard from Steve in a few days following his return, and your brief interaction with him. Part of you wondered if he was avoiding you for some reason.

Your phone lit up the room as it went off, and you grabbed it to look at the notification you received.

A picture of Steve grinning with Miso sitting on his chest looked back at you with a simple message connected to it.

Wanna come over? :D

#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x you #chris evans x reader #chris evans x you #steve rogers x y/n #steve rogers fanfiction #captain america x reader #captain america x you #captain america fanfiction

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randomgamefan · 3 years ago

Text

Hello Inscryption fans it's me, an Inscryption fan!!

This fandom is still pretty new, but uh

Stupid writers gotta be stupid writers, so i have something for you all! Its the first part/chapter of a fic!

It's an AU, but real quick we just gonna say the entire games gonna be spoiled here, so if you haven't finished Inscryption, please do so before reading this.

Also might post this on a03 if y'all like it? I know my own follower base is p small but hey, uh, why not? Also, for those of you on computers, I'm sorry if the formatting is wack, I'm on mobile.

Also I'm calling this AU playtester AU for a reason you will all see later.

Currently tw for: swearing

Okay!! I'll stop rambling, here's the fic!

[Recovery process initiated]

Luke's head had never hurt this bad before. He could probably count the number of major injuries he had in his life on one hand, so there wasn't much competition, but this was definitely the worst pain he'd ever been in.

The pressure seemed to push on his eyes, somehow, like the aching pain bouncing around his skull was pushing out everything in its way of escape. He put the palm of his hands against his eyes, rubbing until the pain behind them dissipated enough to put his hand on his forehead, blinking away the static-like spots that clouded his vision, his headache fading slowly.

Which, unfortunately, brought Luke to another question - where the fuck was he? As his eyes adjusted to the low light, he could tell there were trees around him, though it wasn't a part of the forest he was familiar with. They seemed to have a pattern, a subtle rhythm to the woods that only fueled his headache. Worse than that, though, was the darkness, stretching around him.

Luke staggered to his feet, hoping to see his beloved camera around him - no dice. He was quick to turn to his pockets, but found them empty. Letting out a heavy sigh, he muttered to dead air "great, well this is just incredible. Guess I'm going to run into a bear out here and die or something."

His words, of course, garnered no response, but with enough talking to a camera, that's something you get used to. Without any idea where he was going, Luke set off, trying to search his scraps of memory to figure out how the hell he could have gotten this deep into the woods.

It had been last night he had finished Inscryption the game, watching the game files delete them in front of his face. He expected most people would call bullshit, but he had the entire thing recorded on his camera. Luke had every intention on putting the entire playthrough everywhere, as well as suing the hell out of GameFuna. There was something wrong with that game, sure, but knocking on his door day after day? Breaking into his house? What the hell kind of company does that, on top of having a game that openly controlled your computer?!? He would make sure it all went public, and..

Luke was startled out of his thoughts by the loud cracking of a stick breaking under his shoes. His head snapped upwards, and he could see the clear outline of a path in the woods. It stretched out quite far, but at the end, he could see the light shining from a small cabin. Finally, some hint of civilization, took long enough. Luke was just about ready to put a call into the police department, get home, and get something done to these fucking people at GameFuna.

The trail stretched much longer than it originally looked as he walked it, the creatures of the forest buzzing and calling in the night. The sounds felt familiar and safe, and Luke found the melody of the forest soothing him as he tried to offset the strange, building feeling that he'd seen this cabin somewhere before. And yet, the more he stared, the more Luke knew he'd never been to this part of the woods, and he'd never faced a cabin such as this himself. At least, outside of horror movies and games, it was quite stereotypical looking in that sense.

Finally, after what seemed to be far too long, he reached the front of the cabin. To the left, he could see a small river trickling through the land, a stone bridge reaching over. To the right, he could see a path leading to a lake, the moon reflecting off the watery surface.

The cabin itself wasn't much to look at, worn down wood stretching around the exterior, with old fashioned curtains blocking his view of the inside. A chimney reached into the sky, nothing billowing out of it. The door was as old and wooden as the rest of the cabin, and he worried that knocking itself might damage the old thing. However, Luke's desire to go home was greater than that of preserving an old door, so he reached his hand up to knock anyways.

...

No one replied. After a couple of seconds, he tried again, calling, "hello?" Into the night. Once again, no one responded.

Luke sighed. "Oh, shit.. come on, someone answer the door." He growled at no one, trying once again to knock. No reply to his knocks came, though. And after a few minutes, Luke knew that for the time being, at least, he was stuck out here.

"Might as well make the most of it." He muttered to dead air, heading to the small stream on the left, wondering if there could possibly be anything worth checking out in the area. However, he didn't get far before a loud growl froze him in place.

To his right, a mangy mutt glared at Luke, teeth bared. It's growl was low, full of anger and intent. Without a doubt, this thing could tear Luke apart.

"Now, now puppy.." he didn't appreciate how his voice shook, stepping backwards. "It's okay,, I'm not here to hurt you, hey.." His words only caused the hound to let out an ear splitting, guttural bark, Luke defensively raising his arms to block an attack.

"Damn gunnit you old mutt, down!" A voice called, a thud sounding not far from Luke's feet. Opening one eye, he could see the dog was now contently munching on a bone, an angry looking man with a pickaxe storming towards the pair. Luke stepped back, taking a bit of a defensive stance as this man carried something that could definitely split Luke's head open, despite the man's smaller stature.

"Now, what are ye doin' here?" The other man raised the butt his pickaxe to Luke's face. "Ye don't look like a challenger!"

Oh, this was probably the cabin owner.. that made more sense. Luke let out a small sign of relief.

"Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to trespass, I'm just lost. Would you happen to have a phone I could use to call for some help?"

He shook his head with a chuckle. "This place ain't mine, but If I were ye, I wouldn't rely on Leshy bein' awake! Sleeps like a rock!"

Luke felt his heart skip a beat, trying to rationalize what he'd just heard. It was probably nothing, he had to be logical.

"Well, uh, do you happen to have a phone, or know a way into the cabin."

"Oh, door's unlocked!" The man replied with a chuckle. "Jus walk right in, he won't mind!"

Luke nodded. Though breaking and entering wasn't a personal passtime of his, guess you've gotta adopt new hobbies every now and again.

"I see, thank you." Luke tried to keep his tone even, despite his heart beating out of his chest. "I'll be doing that now."

The other man nodded. "If 'e complains, jus say the prospector let ya inside!" And with that, the prospector walked off.

That did not help Luke's heart rate.

The door creaked on old hinges as Luke quietly swung it open. The interior of the cabin wasn't well lit, and Luke found himself wishing once again he had woken up with a flashlight.

A small candlestick was by the door, only one candle on its two prongs lit. Luke took it in his hand, admittedly afraid of surveying the room. However, a grunting sound alerted him to the figure in the corner before he even had a chance to look around.

The candlestick slipped from Luke's fingers.

Staring back at Luke were two spiraling pupils, eyes incomplete and enticing at the same time. It felt like all time froze, Luke's feet glued in place as the candlestick fell to the floor with a loud clang, extinguishing itself.

Neither spoke for what felt like hours, until finally Luke found his voice once again.

"You aren't real." Was the only thing that came into his head. This couldn't be real, not in a million years. And yet, those familiar eyes stared back at him.

That seemed to get a laugh out of the old photographer, a bit of a broken one. "I'm quite real, as far as I'm concerned. Are you?"

Luke felt a weight on his chest seemingly lift, and he laughed. This situation was ridiculous, impossible, unfathomable. And yet, the eyes on him didn't waver, and didn't laugh along.

"I'm not sure anymore, honestly. Man, what the *fuck*?!" The answer was honest, a bit brutally so. Luke felt tears tugging at his eyes, his mind begging for a logical explanation to why he was facing a character he'd seen in the game he'd dug up in the ground, the game that took over his PC, the game that knew his name, the horrible, cursed disk.

Leshy didn't have a response to his laughter, rather, when Luke was done laughing, he spoke up with an invitation.

"Would you like to play a game?"

Luke wiped the tears forming at his eyes.

"You know, why the hell not?"

141 notes · View notes

viking-raider · 4 years ago

Text

Southern Generation - Part IV

Summary: Sy wakes up in Lily’s arms and shows his gratitude for her comforting him. The mysterious caller is revealed, causing Sy to get extremely protective.

Pairing: Captain Syverson/OFC

Word Count: 7,178

Rating: M - Language, Protective!Sy, Domestic Kink, Stalking, Harassment, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Angst, Confession, Smut - Nipple stimulation, intercourse, orgasm, cream pie.

Inspiration: Always wanted to write a Sy fic and this is a re-work on an old fic I wrote several years ago.

Author’s Note: Thank you for all the love and support, @wondersofdreaming! Your ideas, suggestions and encouragement mean the world to me, and my stories.

Sy woke the next morning wrapped around a warm body and a steady heart beat in his ear, he tipped his head back and was met with Lily's sleeping face, his head pillowed on her breasts. He smiled, hugging his arms snugger around her waist and sighed, comfortable and peaceful, nuzzling his face into her chest.

Lily moaned softly, making Sy smile against the fabric of the night shirt she was wearing, her hand moved against the broad expanse of his back, fingertips sleepily caressing his spine, unconsciously soothing him, before moving between his shoulder blades, tickling the nape of his neck and rubbing the back of his head with her palm.

He vaguely remembered her calling his name and holding him after his nightmare, whispering into his ear that he was safe and at home, with her. Lily made the choice to bring him to her bed, comforting him even more, until he fell asleep, and for the first time in years, Sy actually dreamt about something other than war and endless spaces of bloody sand.

Reaching up, Sy brushed his fingers through her bangs, smiling. “My Angel.” He whispered, not wanting to wake her.

Carefully unwrapping himself from around her, Sy slipped out of bed and gingerly covered Lily up, before tip toeing downstairs to the kitchen. Scratching the back of his head for a moment, Sy moved about the kitchen, setting up the coffee maker, pulled out the skillet and started making breakfast. He figured she had been making him breakfast every morning for the last several months, it was time for him to return the favor.

So, Sy went all out, once he had everything made, he brought it upstairs to her.

Lily took a deep breath and moaned, stretching and rolling onto her back, but found Sy was no longer in bed with her. She sat up, panicked that something had happened to him, and was about to get out of bed to look for him, when he appeared in the bedroom door, relieved he was all right.

“Morning.” He smiled, finding her sitting up.

“Did you make breakfast?” She frowned as he approached her side of the bed.

“I did.” He nodded, setting her steaming cup of tea on her bedside table. “I thought, since you always make me breakfast, that I'd make you breakfast this go around.” Sy explained, setting the tray of food over her lap.

“What's better than breakfast in bed?”

“Nothing currently comes to mind.” Lily smiled, a soft blush on her cheeks, actually pleasantly surprised at this change of events, touched at Sy’s sweet gesture.

“I didn't think so.” Sy chuckled, pulling up the chair that was at a small desk in her room and sat down, balancing his own plate of food in his lap.

“So, what's on your agenda today, Captain?” She asked, taking a sip of her tea and was surprised to find it was exactly to her liking.

“I think, it's time I started working on the roof.” He replied, bringing his fork to his mouth. “I want to at least give it some temporary patches, before the weather turns.” He told her, after swallowing. “It'll also give me a chance to find out what all the problems with it are, and if I'll need to re-roof it.”

“I hope not.” Lily frowned, washing down some of her food with a gulp of tea.

“Well, from what I've seen on the ground, it looks to be the original roof that was put on when the house was built.” He chuckled at her, setting his empty plate on her nightstand. “That was nearly a century ago.”

“Unless, you know about it being replaced since then?” He asked her, tilting his head.

“The realtor didn't mention it to me.” Lily replied, searching her mind for any scrap of memory of the day she bought the place.

“That's all right.” Sy assured her, gently touching her hand. “I'll get it done, don't you worry.”

Lily smiled at him, turning her hand to thread her fingers with his. “I'm not worried, since you're the one on the case.” She replied, softly.

Sy grinned at her, bringing her hand to his mouth and kissed her fingers, before letting go and collecting their plates. “You know, what would you say, if I managed to install a dishwasher for you?” He asked, pausing in the doorway of her bedroom.

“I have a dishwasher.” Lily giggled, holding up her hands and wiggling her fingers at him.

“You know what I mean, sugar butt.” He laughed, smirking even broader at her.

Lily shrugged, still giggling at him, her cheeks coloring at his nickname. “I don't know, Bear. I've never had one before.”

“Well then, Angel, I'll riddle that one out for you.” He promised in a soft voice.

“I believe you.” She whispered back, giddy, and not for a dishwasher.

“I'm going to check the mail.” Lily said, drying her hands on a dish towel, after washing the dishes from lunch.

“All right.” Sy nodded, still sitting at the table.

Sy had stood to refill his coffee cup, when the phone rang. Biting his lip and glancing out of the kitchen, he saw Lily was too far down the driveway to call her back to answer it, so he picked it up instead; clearing his throat.

“Moore residence.” He spoke into the receiver.

“She's a sweet thing, isn't she?” A sinister voice asked from the other end.

“Excuse you?” Sy barked, a flash of hot anger bursting through his body.

“Oh yes.” The voice chuckled, incredibly delighted. “She is sweet as a Lily, so pure and good.”

“Who is this?” Sy demanded with a deep growl, his teeth gritted and bared as he gripped the handle of the phone even tighter in his hand.

“She's mine, you know.” They growled back at Sy, breathing heavily, their own anger mounting. “She's always been mine and she will always be mine.”

“Not anymore.” Sy hissed back and slammed the phone down in its cradle.

“Sy?” Lily frowned, coming into the kitchen as he hung up the phone. “Who was that?”

“I don't know, you tell me?” He replied, turning towards her, brows drawn together.

“I'm not the one that answered it, Austin.” She countered, shaking her head, confused by his anger.

“It was some guy, said you were his, always had been and would be.” Sy told her, pushing his jaw forward.

Lily's eyes glassed over, letting out a shuddering breath and started trembling. Sy blinked at her, his anger at the caller's words melting away to alarmed concern. He took a step forward, reaching out for her, but Lily stumbled away from him, tears finally spilling free.

“Lily.” He whispered softly, his chest tight. “Easy.” He cooed at her, licking his lips.

“I'm not his, not anymore.” She whimpered, shaking her head. “Why can't he just leave me be.”

Sy blinked at her, frowning harder. “What?”

“Nothing.” Lily mewled, biting her lip.

“No, come on.” He coaxed her, resting his hand on her arm and gently pulled her against him. “Tell me.” He whispered, gently rubbing her back.

“I thought I got away from him.” She sniffled against his shirt. “Thirteen hundred miles away from him. I was so careful—so careful.” She mumbled, hands clinging onto the sides of his shirt. “I don't-I don't know how he found me—unless...”

“Unless?” Sy frowned, still slowly rubbing her back and trying to process what she was telling him. “Sit down.” He said, moving them towards the breakfast table and pulled out a chair for her, before bringing the other one around from the other side to sit beside her.

“Start at the beginning.”

Lily cleared her throat and stared down at her hands, folded in her lap. “I was born and raised in Middleburg, Virginia. You know, that I'm an only child and that my mom died, when I was born. I was raised by my grandparents, because my dad was in and out of my life, before just finally disappearing from it, when I was nineteen.” She explained to him, licking her lips.

“He blamed me for my mom's death.” She added, quietly.

Sy reached out and rested his hand on her thigh, squeezing it gently, and gave her a sweet smile.

“When I was seventeen, I met a boy at church, Jak.” Lily continued to explain to him. “It was the only time I really got to interact with others, my grandparents were strict, homeschooling me and only really letting me out of the house, unless they were with me, which was usually only for church on Sunday.” She fidgeted, shyly. “He was the only boy to show any interest in me, which didn't and did surprise me. The little house on the prairie dresses my grandma made me wear, and the glasses I had back then, you could see the moon through them.” She chuckled, cheeks colored.

Sy smiled back at her, even picturing her as a little girl like that, he still found her beautiful.

“But, Jak didn't care, or at least he didn't say or show he did. I would sneak out at night to meet him in the apple orchard my grandfather grew. It had been in our family since the Revolutionary War, the land was given to my, how many times, great-grandfather as payment for his service in the war.”

“I bet it's beautiful.” Sy commented, warmed at the thought.

“They are, so many of the trees are the original ones that were planted.” She smiled back, picturing the orchard in her mind. “The first one that was ever planted, after he cleared away the land, is still there and yielding, there's a plaque staked by its roots, and people come from all around to see it and the orchard, the Warren Apple.”

Sy rested back in his chair. “Your family owns the Warren Orchard Company? You're one of those Warrens?”

“I am.” She nodded, smiling proudly at that fact, but it vanished.

“Anyway, Jak and I would sneak every moment we could to see each other. He even got a job, during the summer, in the orchard, so we could see each other even more.” She took a deep breath, letting it out softly. “But, a year after we met and started being sweet on each other, my grandparents lodged a missionary for his two year mission in our ward. Jak thought he and I were getting close, that my grandparents had actually brought him to live with us, so he and I could court and marry.”

“He grew jealous and possessive. I was stupid, naive and young, I didn't know what was happening, that he was being abusive, until it was almost far too late.”

“What happened, that caused you to realize it?” Sy asked, tilting his head at her.

“I met Jak in the orchard one night, when I was twenty, the day after the missionary went back home to Michigan, because his two years were up. When I got there, Jak was pacing, already angry. Livid. When he saw me, he started yelling about how he had seen me kissing the missionary, how we practically ate each other's faces on the back porch, while everyone else was in the house, during his farewell party.” She said, glancing out the window behind the breakfast table.

“Of course, I hadn't been. Matt, the Missionary, and I had been on the back porch together, I had gone out there to get away from the press of all the people and he went out there to check on me. We had hugged, only the once, since doing so isn't really acceptable, two not courting, unchaperoned kids. But, we did nothing more, before going back inside. The truth didn't matter to Jak though, he had his version of what he saw and it was unchangeable.” Lily bit her lip and gripped Sy's wrist as his hand still laid on her thigh. “He lost his temper and hit me, but in my love sick stupidity, I didn't break it off there or tell my grandparents about it.”

“Instead, I enrolled in a university for Photography and Web Design, moved out of my grandparents' place and into one with him, like an idiot.”

“You weren't an idiot, Lily.” Sy told her, shaking his head and slipping his hand into hers. “It's more common than you think.”

“I know it is.” She sighed, clinging onto his hand.

“He only got worse and it got harder for me to get my school work done, with him accusing me that I was sleeping with my project partners, even teachers.” She huffed, shaking her head at his allegations, that now sounded so ridiculous. “The straw that broke the camel's back was,” She paused, biting and licking her lips, fighting down a bubble of emotions and memories. “One of my project mates called to ask me about the faux website we were designing for a fake company we had to make up, cause she wanted to know what time was good for us to meet up, and Jak answered the phone, claimed he heard a guy in the background, throwing the phone across the living room and went ballistic, saying I was having her call me to set up a time for me and the guy he heard, to try and fool him.”

“He spent the next hour going to town on me.” She said, glancing up at him, the hint and meaning in her eyes.

“Afterwards, he went to work and I packed a bag. I had some money from the family orchard business, so I took a good portion of it, bought a greyhound bus ticket to a cousin I was close to in New Jersey, Maggie, and stayed with her, knowing he wouldn't find me there, my grandparents wouldn't think I'd go there, and she wouldn't ever rat on me. While I was there, I petitioned for a name change, from Liliana Warren to Lily Ana Moore, and finished my degree, then found this place and moved out here.”

“So, how do you think he found you?” Sy asked, worried about her safety and angry that this asshole had the audacity to hurt her and wanted to try and hurt her again, but he kept a lid on his temper, not wanting to frighten her anymore than she already was.

“I've been keeping tabs on my grandparents, mostly through my cousin.” Lily answered, biting her lip. “She called me a year ago, to tell me that my grandmother had a stroke, a pretty bad stroke at that. She's apparently wheelchair bound now. Maggie went down there to visit them, and my grandfather was talking about how he needed someone to work on the company website, when Maggie let it slip that I have a web design business.”

“Oh.” Sy let out, eyes wide.

“Yeah.” She nodded back. “So, of course, they got upset, understanding that Maggie knew what had happened to me and where I was and all that. She called afterwards, apologizing up and down to me for it. She didn't tell them where I was or anything like that, just that I was safe and fine, and if I wanted to contact them, I would.”

“Did you?”

“I did.” Lily sighed, voice tight. “I figured after four years, I owed them a call.”

“So, do you think they told Jak?”

“I don't know.” She shrugged. “But, a week after I called them, I started getting hang up calls, then calls where no one would say anything for a few minutes, before hanging up. Then, two months ago, I got a call that was different from the others, he said something to me, and a month ago, he said something being soon.”

The wires connected in Sy's brain. “That's what caused you to take all those pills.”

Lily gulped and bit her lip, eyes burning, as she nodded her head. “Ye-ah.” She choked, fear and anxiety starting to mount inside of her again.

“Hey, hey.”

Sy cooed, wrapping his arms around her and pulled her into his lap, hugging her against his chest. “It's all right, Lily. It's going to be all right, I promised to protect you and I will. You are safe with me, you will always be safe with me, whatever the cost.” He whispered in her ear, holding her close and planning ways and means to protect her.

“Sy?” Lily called from the open door of her bedroom, just as Sy stepped out of the hall bathroom, in nothing, but a pair of black boxers.

“Lily?” He replied, rubbing the towel over his head, and looked up at her, lifting a brow, inquisitively.

Lily rested her hand on the handle of her door and stepped sideways, giving a little motion of her head into her room, a soft and offering expression on her face. Sy blinked at her, surprised, then down at Aika, who sat in the doorway of his room, feeling like he was picking what lady to sleep with for the night.

He tilted his head at Aika and gave her a sympathetic expression.

“Sorry, Girl.” He whispered to the Shepherd, turning towards Lily.

Lily chuckled at him, smiling and shaking her head as he passed by her and into her room. “You can come too, Aika.” She called to her, then turned into her room.

“You're cool with this?” Sy asked, eyes motioning to her bed.

“It was my idea, wasn't it?” She smiled at him, then stepped inside her closet for a moment and came back in a t-shirt-like nightie with Mickey Mouse on it, before pulling down the blankets and crawling into bed.

“It was.” He nodded, then laid down with her, covering up.

Lily scooted closer to him and Sy draped his arm over her waist, tucking her against him and she let him lay his head on her chest, stroking his arm. She was comfortable with the warm weight of his body against hers, the clean scent of his skin and hair from his shower. She felt Sy's body slowly melt into hers as he fell asleep, it had been her plan. Lily knew there was a high likelihood of Sy having another episode or nightmare, but figured, if he was there, with her, already safe and comfortable in her arms, he wouldn't have it.

That was her deepest hope, at least.

But, the next thing Lily knew, she was being jerked roughly off the bed and pinned underneath Sy's mountainous weight, his heavy and hot breath puffing against the side of her face as he blanketed her with his body, clearly startled and on high alert. The room lit up with a quick flash of lightning and the furious sound of rain beating on all parts of the house filled the bedroom around them.

“Austin.” She gasped, grasping the back of his arms, nails digging into his sweaty skin, thinking he had been set off by the noise of the sudden storm. “Aust-”

“Ssshhh.” He hushed her, lips brushing her temple, the hairs of his beard tickling her skin. “Stay here.” He whispered into her ear, then moved off of her and out of the room, Aika sitting in the open doorway and growling into the darkness of the hallway after him.

Lily sat up on her elbows, knowing that what was happening couldn't have been from one of Sy's nightmares or the storm, because Aika wouldn't be acting like this, she was angry, like she was daring something Lily couldn't see to try and cross her. But, nothing came, not even Sy, and Lily was starting to get worried. So, getting up, she edged around Aika and tip toed downstairs, jerking at another boom of thunder and crack of lightning, until she found Sy standing in the entryway.

“Austin?” She called out to him, over the sound of the rain, which sounded much louder downstairs.

“I told you to stay upstairs.” He barked, not looking back at her.

“What's wrong?” She asked, knowing there had to be something, by the tone of his voice.

“Nothing, just go back to bed.”

Narrowing her eyes, Lily stepped closer to him and her eyes grew wide, seeing what had caused Sy to wake up and react like he had. The large bay window in the den that faced out onto the porch and the front of the property was smashed, the glitter of the broken glass shined in the lightning strikes and left the outline of the brick amongst them, the cause of the broken window. Lily's eyes snapped out the living room window, expecting to see someone, not just someone, but Jak, to be standing out in the yard, staring back at them. But, there was no one, but her and Sy's cars. Her heart started to race and pound, making her feel dizzy and lightheaded, trembling so hard she almost lost her balance, but caught herself on the back of the couch.

Sy turned and grabbed her, picking her up in his arms and carried her back up to bed. “Stay here.” He ordered her, pointing a stiff finger at her, then went back downstairs.

Going out back, Sy grabbed a large piece of plywood he had bought in preparation for repairing the roof and instead used it to board up the broken window, until the storm passed and morning came, so he could find a piece of glass to replace it, leaving him and the den floor mostly wet. He moped the den floor and laid out nearly every towel Lily had in the house in hopes the old floorboards wouldn't warp under the water damage.

He stepped out onto the porch for a moment, glaring into wet dark. “This is my house now.” He growled, knowing Jak was still out there somewhere nearby. “My girl.” He hissed, before turning back inside, going up to the guest room to change into a dry pair of boxers and joined Lily back in her bed.

“It was him.” She mumbled, hugging her pillow to her chest. “It had to be him.”

Sy sighed softly, locking his arms around her waist and hugged her to his chest, curving his body around hers. He didn't know what to say to her, they both knew it had to be Jak, who else would have thrown a brick through someone's window in the middle of a storm like this one, especially after all the other incidents over the last several months; all the lines drew back to Jak on his unhealthy, possessive rampage to reclaim Lily as his own. Sy was afraid that if he verbalized his agreement with her, it would only inflate her already inflamed fear of the obvious.

So, he just clutched her tighter to him, pressing his lips to her shoulder and squeezing his eyes shut against the bright flashes of lightning.

“Lily, I'm going to go to town, I have something I need to pick up.” He told her, searching the living room for his car keys.

“I thought you already ordered the new windowpane?” Lily called back, appearing out of the kitchen, where she was washing the dishes.

“I did.” He nodded, he had found a shop that he could order a replacement windowpane for the den window that morning, but it wouldn't be ready until the next day. “This is for something else.” He told her, finding his keys under a magazine on the coffee table.

“What are you going for, then, Bear?” She asked, tilting her head at him.

Sy paused and regarded her. “Don't worry about it, Angel. I'll be back in an hour.” He told her, then, went out.

“Okay.” Lily frowned, glancing out the living room window, the thunder and lightning had passed during the early morning, but it was still raining cats and dogs.

Sighing, Lily turned back into the kitchen, taking a bucket and mop out of the utility closet, filled the bucket with warm water and soap, before getting down to mopping the floors, with nothing else to do in the current weather.

Sy rushed out to his truck, but was still almost half soaked by the time he settled himself in the driver's seat. Turning on the car and cranking on the heat, Sy pulled off the property and headed towards Celina. He pulled into the small parking center the small town had, scanning the rain blurred signs, looking for the one he was heading for, before opening the door and rushing towards it, pulling open the door, with an electric ding, announcing his presence.

“How can I help you?” the shop owner asked, coming out of a small room in the back and stopped behind a long glass case.

“Yeah, I'm looking for something specific.” Sy replied, stopping on the other side of the glass case, a look of understanding in both men's eyes.

“What specifics would that be?”

“Taurus, PT111 G2, 9mm.” Sy rattled off with familiar ease.

“Do you have a license and ID?” The store owner asked, eyes scanning the case between them.

“Then, some.” Sy laughed, pulling out his wallet to show the man his qualifications.

“You're a retired Captain.” The man noted, seeing Sy's military ID.

“That I am.” Sy chuckled, grinning with some pride.

The store owner got Sy squared away with the weapon he wanted, a secure case and a couple rounds of ammo, while also chattering about the military, being a retired Staff Sergeant himself. Getting back into his truck, he put the case under the passenger seat, pausing to stare at it for a moment,emotions and thoughts brewing inside of him, then shook them off. Satisfied, Sy went back home to Lily, finding her dusting the living room, when he came in, carrying the case and sat it down on the coffee table.

Lily paused, dust rag poised above the mantelpiece, staring at the case. “Is that what I think it is?” She asked, finally looking up at him.

“If you think it's a gun, then yes.” Sy replied, sitting down on the couch and tugging on the soaked laces of his boots.

“Why,” She gulped, arm dropping to her side. “did you buy a gun and bring it here?”

“Because, I wanted to and as a precaution.” He answered her, yanking his boots off.

“A precaution?”

“There is a fucking asshole out there.” Sy barked, jerking his arm up and finger pointing out the window. “Trying to hurt you.” His finger moved to her, in emphasis. “I am a big man. I'm a strong man. I've killed and subdued more than one man with my bare hands, but a personal cost.” He explained to her, standing and jerking up his shirt, showing her a couple of scars on his sides and chest, some were round and puckered, gunshot wounds, others were stripes, like stab wounds.

“If that prick decides to come into this house, to try and put his hands on you. That,” He pointed down to the gun case. “is going to be the first thing he wants to meet, because if he has to get close enough to me, that I need to put my hands on him, then they will be that last thing he will ever feel.” He told her, chest heaving as he got worked up over the situation.

Lily gulped at him, biting her lip, a flash of fear in her eyes at his passionate words, seeing a vein of rage that Jak had also been capable of.

“I just want to protect you.” He said softly, taking deep breaths, trying to calm himself down; seeing he had scared her.

“I know you do, Austin.” She whimpered back, gulping, eyes shiny. “I know you do.”

Sy moaned, something cold pressing into his neck. “Hm, Lily.” He chuckled, scrunching his head and shoulders together, grinning as the cold and wet touched his bare chest, making him grunt and wiggle away. “Why are you so col-” He started to laugh, opening his eyes, only to meet the soulful and tawny colored eyes of Aika.

“Aika, what are ya doin' here?” He frowned, and sat up, finding it was just him and the German Shepherd in the bed, Lily nowhere in sight. “Lily?” He called out, turning his head towards the master bathroom, but it was empty.

Panic filled Sy as he yanked the blankets back and pounded down the stairs into the living room, then the den. Sy squeezed his eyes shut, taking deep breaths and clenching his hands in and out of fists, trying to keep himself cool and calm, before going into the kitchen, hearing the screen of the back door knocking against the door frame, and found the main back door was ajar.

“What is she doing?” He whispered to himself, biting his lip and looking back, considering the option of going back upstairs and getting the gun, but something in his gut told him he wouldn't need it.

Opening the door, Sy stepped out onto the back porch, a shiver wracking his body as a strong gust of rainy wind rushed by him. He narrowed his eyes, scanning the drenched backyard, the tall, unruly and uncut grass bent from the pelting of the rain and gusts of wind, he caught a quick movement to his left and turned in that direction, stepping off the porch and followed after it, towards the barn, just catching the billowing fabric of Lily's white nightie, vanishing inside.

“Lily, what are you doing in here?” He called out, pushing open the barn door a bit more. “Lily?” He called again, frowning as he crossed the barn and found her huddled in one of the old horse stalls. “What are you doing in here, Angel?” He cooed at her, shaking his head, droplets of rain running down both of their faces, and watched her melt into the corner.

Lily panted, her back pressed against the warped and worn wall behind her, arms pressed to her chest, her nightie so soaked, it was almost see through. Sy bit his lip and gulped, slowly crouching down. He knew what was going on, he had seen and suffered things like this a million times over the last ten plus years. She was having a PTSD episode, running away from the terror that was inside her head, trying to hide and find somewhere safe from it. Everything over the last several months with Jak stalking and harassing her was really starting to affect her, finally breaking her it seemed.

“I'm not going to hurt you, love.” He said softly, keeping his voice soft and low. “Come here.” He gulped, opening his arms to her and biting his lip with apprehension. “It's all right. You know, you can trust me, Sugar.” He whispered, nodding his head as she slowly unfolded herself and crawled over to him.

“Hey, Angel.” Sy cooed, sighing softly, and closed his arms around her, pressing his lips to the top of wet her head. “Ssshh.” He hushed her, rubbing her back and cupping the back of her head, feeling her tears add to the raindrops on his chest.

“I c-can-can't ta-take it an-anymore.” She sobbed, trembling in his arms, overcome with emotions and cold.

“We'll get through this, Angel.” He whispered to her, cupping her chilled cheeks in his hands and tilted her head back to look up at him. “We will get through this. You and I will get through this together. Everything will work out.”

Lily shook her head, her pale lips trembling. “N-no, it wo-won't. He-he always g-gets what h-he wants. All-always.” She mewled, whining. “I don't kn-know why I-I thought I c-could ge-get away.”

Sy's expression was hard for a moment, before he brought their faces together and kissed her, deeply. Lily stiffened against him, taken off guard by his kiss, but she didn't pull away or push him away. Gulping, she shyly returned his kiss, resting her hands on him, feeling the skin of his sides jump and react to her icy touch.

“I've wanted to kiss you.” Sy said, pulling back. “For such a long time.” He admitted, looking into her eyes. “Since that day on the porch, when you woke me up.”

“Since, you gave me your hoodie at the fair.” She whispered back, licking her lips, the warmth of Sy's still lingering on them.

Sy leaned forward, kissing her gently and brushing his fingers through her dripping hair, Lily pushing forward to deepen it for a moment, letting out a breathy whimper. Sy smirked, then looked down at the floor between them, it was still strewn with decades old hay and dirt. He held up a finger and stood, bumping around in the dark barn before a scratching sound sounded among the patter of rain on the metal barn roof. A moment later, a teeny glow filled the space and Sy approached where Lily was still kneeling, holding an old, beat up, oil lantern he knew was in the barn from his many searches of the space, hanging it up on a bent and rusty nail on the stall wall, then disappeared for another moment.

“Stand up.” He said, motioning her out of the stall, holding something in his arms.

Lily frowned at him, but stepping out of the stall and out of his way, catching a glimpse of what it was, it was one of the drop clothes he bought for when he painted the house, keeping the paint off the new porch. Sy unfolded the drop cloth over the dirty hay and stall floor, making sure it was comfortable, then turned back to her.

“How gentlemanly.” Lily complimented him.

“I am a Southern boy.” Sy chuckled, letting his Southern drawl deepen, and wrapping his arm around her waist, pulling her against him. “Who's in love with Southern Lady.”

Lily blushed as Sy kissed her again, hugging her against him and up off her feet, turning around and slowly dropped to his knees, gently laying her back on the situated drop cloth. Lily wrapped her arms around Sy's neck, moaning softly against his lips, feeling the fabric of her nightie rub against her cold hardened nipples as Sy moved to kiss down to her neck, sinking his teeth into her delicate skin and let out a loud moan, pushing up against him.

“Austin!” She cried out, pressing her cheek to his ear as he continued to bite and suck on her neck, his beard tickling and rubbing against the skin underneath her jaw, leaving it red and sensitive.

Sy chuckled, loving the sound of her calling out his name with the metal patter of rain, his hand gliding over the soaked material of her nightie, bunching and hiking it up out of his way, pressing his palm against her side, rubbing his big hands all over her exposed body, grunting and growling into her neck, like a wild grizzly bear, finally getting his claws on his prized catch. His big mitts were on her plump breasts almost instantly, squeezing and kneading them, rubbing the rough pads of his thumbs over the sensitive nubs of her nipples, making her moan and whimper, fidgeting beneath him and rubbing her legs together, adding to the growing slickness between them.

“You sound so sweet.” Sy moaned back, pulling away from her neck, a set of dark teeth marks left behind, dipping his head for a moment to swirl his tongue around one of her nipples.

“Sy.” She whined, gulping down a moan. “Sy, please.”

“Oh.” He smiled, impishly. “You like that?” He asked, flicking her erect nipple with the tip of his tongue and watched her partially melt. “Your sweet, sensitive, little buds.” He cooed, then closed his lips around one of them, suckling gently, rubbing and rolling his tongue against it.

“Ah, shit!” Lily gasped, gripping his shoulders, eyes rolling and fluttering back into her head, heels digging into the fabric of the drop cloth. “God damn it, Austin.” She snapped, pressing her palms to the back of his head, holding his mouth to her breasts, her moans and whimpers filled the barn, pushing against him, egging and begging him to keep going, her breathing growing rugged and labored, moans becoming more urgent and reckless.

“Ah, fuck fuck fuck.” She cried out. “Suck them harder.” She coaxed and demanded. “Oh shit! Please, Austin!!” She gasped suddenly, body going rigid with a soft tremor.

Sy pulled away from her and dripped a hand between her trembling thighs, finding an extremely wet patch there. “So, you come, when you get your pretty breasts sucked.” He grinned, fully turned on and impressed, licking her juices off his fingers and palm.

“I've also never heard you say such naughty words.” He added, teasingly.

Lily chuckled, slowly recovering and smiling shyly up at him.

“Oh, it's too late to get shy now, Angel.” Sy laughed, leaning down and kissed the corner of her mouth. “Your secret is out.” He continued to tease her, playfully bouncing her boobs in his palms.

“And, I'm not letting you off.”

“I'm going to regret this, I can just feel it now.” Lily huffed, shaking her head, but her smile gave away her true feelings.

“Yes, you are.”

Sy chuckled, his hand dipping back between her legs, rubbing her still dripping folds with his calloused fingers, melting her into a puddle of weak and vulnerable whimpers. “You're so sensitive and sound so sweet.” He cooed at her, licking his lips and watching her face. “So, so sweet.” He panted, mouth slightly ajar, slipping his free hand into his damp boxers, curling his fingers around his thick and rock hard shaft, giving it a few shallow strokes.

Lily's eyes drifted down the length of her sweaty body, watching Sy work his cock inside his underwear and felt herself shiver in want and anticipation of it. She licked her lips and looked up at him, their eyes in a silent communication of what they both wanted. Sy shifted, yanking off his boxers to kneel between Lily's legs, wrapping them around his waist, her hips and bottom resting atop his thighs, with the small of her back lifted off the drop cloth beneath her.

“You're sure?” Sy panted, gulping thickly and already breaking out into a sweat, staring at her with wide eyes and blown out pupils.

“Yes.” Lily sighed, nodding her head vigorously at him. “God, yes.” She moaned, squeezing her legs around his waist.

Sy smirked, pressed a hand to her hip, pushing it up her side to palm one of her breasts, squeezing and rubbing it, while taking the base of his cock in his other hand, pumping it a few times, rubbing the fat and cut tip against her still wet pussy, slowly slipping between her folds, brushing her entrance and pushing inside. Lily let out a moaning sigh through her nose, feeling his wide girth stretch her open far more than she had ever been before. Her toes curled and squeezed his hips between her calves and thighs, back arching and hips shifting against the nearly uncomfortable burn of his length being buried ever deeper inside her core. Sy tilted his head at her, bracing a hand on the drop cloth, beside her head, and leaned over her, causing Lily to let out a raspy gasp as his cock changed angles inside of her, and kissed her, slow and passionately, still pushing his hips into her.

“You are so beautiful.” He rasped against her lips, nibbling on her pouty bottom lip.

“Austin.” She whimpered back, breathy, hooking her arms under his arms and pressing her palms flat against tense and sweaty back, nails digging into his cool skin. “Austin.” She chanted, softly, rubbing her nose against his.

“Lily.” Sy moaned back, finally flush inside of her, and rocked into her, taking his time and enjoying her heavenly warmth wrapped around his cock, like a toasty sleeve. “I love you, Lily.” He whispered into her ear, kissing her jaw and cheek.

Lily blushed and let out an airy chuckle, hiding her face in his neck and broad shoulder, hugging her arms and legs tighter around his body, clinging onto him for dear life and squeezed her eyes shut, taking in the sound of Sy's heavy breathing and loud moans and groans, grunting, and sighing out her name, the still steady pitter-patter of the fat raindrops on the old, rusted tin roof and sun-kissed wood walls, all mixed with her own sounds of pleasure.

“Sy?” Lily whispered, after their shared climax, still feeling the euphoric and relaxing pleasure it gave both of them, as she laid on the drop cloth, half tucked underneath Sy's body for warmth in the drafty barn.

“Hm?” He hummed back, nosing her hair and took a deep breath.

Lily smiled, feeling the vibration in his chest, nuzzling back into him. “I love you too, Austin.” She whispered, turned her head to look back at him.

Sy lifted his head and looked down at her, a smile slowly pulling across his lips, an excited and giddy feeling in the pit of his stomach, reaching out to gently brush her hair out of her face, picking out a few bits of straw that happened to get stuck in it from earlier; before oh-so-tenderly kissing her.

“You have no idea how happy that makes me, Angel.” He murmured against her cheek.

“I'm guessing as happy as it makes me, Bear.” She chuckled back, kissing the tip of his nose.

Lily softly stirred just before dawn, cradled in Sy's arms as he carried her out of the barn, the rain finally letting up, and into the house. He carried her upstairs to her room and gently laid her down on her bed, letting him help her out of her still damp nightie and tossed it through the open door of her master bathroom, before crawling into bed with her.

Both of them were out cold before the blankets settled around them, unaware of the audience they had a good deal of the night.

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h50europe · 3 years ago

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Why the myth about Steve's PTSD doesn't add up and other inconsistencies

In the last few episodes of H50, PL tried to sell us a mentally broken Steve suffering from PTSD. Only the whole thing came a bit too late. The clip you see is from season 4 and ended up - no, not in the series - but somewhere on the floor of PL's editing room. And why? after Kurtzman and Orci departed, along with their writers, PL took the helm and started turning Steve into a super-soldier. He stylized him into something that wasn't meant to be. Instead of developing the characters, PL began to incorporate more and more hair-raising action sequences into the series and then let Steve fight on the front lines. There was no mention of Steve's mental state, and a lot was explained by PL with: it just happened "offscreen." Yeah, sure. PL can't create a decent character. He can only produce stereotypes and one-dimensional beings. Like Adam. What potential would that character have had had he been turned into Five-0's antagonist? But no. So his role remained diffuse and monotonous. Sometimes even tragicomical.

Back to Steve. When SEAL Team started on CBS, PL also lapsed into SEAL mania. If someone who writes fanfiction were to produce as much garbage as this man did, he would be chased away from every writers' platform in disgrace. PL's Super SEAL also had to rescue his team members from a blazing inferno. Not man by man, no, he flew a helicopter right into the danger zone and lifted a whole cabin out of the burning jungle. If lunacy had a name, it would be PL. While the action became more and more exaggerated and unrealistic, the same happened to the protagonists. After the departure of Daniel Dae Kim and Grace Park, PL completely lost his mind. And please, don't blame the writers for the nonsense that was thrown at you. A series stands and falls with the showrunner. He dictates what he wants and passes it on to his staff.

And so, lovable Steve became a soulless robot who only showed feelings here and there. Danny diminished more and more into a sidekick. McDanno became a ship that drifted anchorless through a stormy sea and threatened to capsize again and again. From season 8, it became a reboot of the reboot. PL tried an ensemble show and failed more than miserably. Often the actors just stood around bored. At least that was the impression. The only highlight was episode 8.10. A feast for all McDanno fans. But even here, the outcome of "who shot Danny" was more than insubstantial.

Wait, there was something about SEALs... Oh, yes. Junior appeared on the scene and became Steve's lapdog. I really wondered when there was going to be an episode where he would fetch sticks for Steve. Luckily we had Eddie for that. And because he thought he was so clever, PL invented the episode speed dating. How many subplots can you squeeze into one episode at the same time? In some episodes, you couldn't even take a look at the bag of potato chips without losing the thread.

The case of the week became the yawn of the week. There were so many loose ends that PL then came up with something called retconning. That's what you do when you're no longer satisfied with what was once established in the series years ago, or it no longer fits. But PL went one step further and did the same with the characters. The more the series was dragged out, the more the characters deteriorated and became OOC. It means, often, they were not recognizable at all. And that's where we come to Steve. Because PL, in his desperation, didn't know what else he could do to Steve, and so he killed Joe White. He did it in such a cheesy way with a fake sunset that it made you sick.

Of course, one episode later, there had to be another gig of PL's favorite Barbie. He stuck a fake beard on poor Steve/Alex, so he couldn't even hug Danny/Scott properly. The episode also raised more questions than it answered any. And Steve? He still didn't suffer from PTSD, even though he had now lost Joe White and a fellow SEAL. Everyone is dropping like flies, except for Steve, who is standing like a rock. No matter what. He doesn't need in-depth talks with Danny, nor psychological care, nor any sleeping pills. No, he's doing great. He also opens a restaurant with Danny because apparently, the carguments are already getting on PL's nerves. Unfortunately, this plot device leads into nirvana. The idea was nice, but nobody thought it through to the end. And the merry-go-round continues. Until we get to season 10, where it gets even more absurd. Now PL is almost bombarding us with McDanno episodes, or at least it should seem that way. Oh well, he's already planning for season 11, so a new character has to come on board quickly. While in the beginning, Steve's mother, Doris, dies.

Alex was allowed to take on the subject. Of course, only under the strict eyes of PL. He then nullifies Alex's idea that Steve kills his mother. Because a good soldier and Super SEAL won't do that. Little does PL know. THAT could have been the opening of a PTSD scenario for Steve. However, apart from that, this episode would have had any potential for a multi-arc. Just imagine Steve chasing his mother across multiple episodes. Again, PL stepped in and butchered Alex's episode. You can really feel sorry for the guy. PL at his best or worse? He just can't help it. And then, on the very last meters of the series, he brings someone new, who is allowed to cruise around with Steve most of the time. Because Danny was kidnapped by Wo Fat's widow, PL also invented quite late to have some villain at his disposal. This wannabe mastermind must really have been living under a rock somewhere if she wasn't even mentioned by her husband or appeared earlier.

Because towards the end, PL obviously ran out not only of steam but also of ideas, everything culminated in a wildly illogical scenario. Steve has to live through a dramatic day with Eddie, who stands as a metaphor for Steve (as I said, PTSD was never a thing for Super SEAL), Danny bangs his brains out in a ladies' room with a complete stranger, who dies shortly after that in an accident with Danny's rental car. Apparently, there was no budget to turn the Camaro into scrap metal. Danny then also goes home alone, ignoring the incoming emergency vehicles. Everything remains open at the end of the episode. While Steve expresses his gratitude to Tani and Quinn and says, he would be just as lost as poor Eddie without the dog and all of them. The strange thing is that you never notice anything until that sentence. A few forced dialogues are supposed to make the drama visible, but they all happen way too late or are so poorly written that you miss them.

PL had decided early on to make Steve a Teflon hero. That also means he didn't need to put much substance into the character. Which you can clearly see if you compare the first three seasons to the rest of the series. But towards the end, PL wanted to turn the tide and forcefully rewrote Steve's past. There is a huge difference if you compare Steve from seasons 1 to 3 with Steve from season 10. It is only a sparse remnant of what made this character so great. This change in Steve's personality also affects his relationship with Danny. The witty, affectionate banter degenerates into a snappy, humorless bitch-fest that takes all the joy out of it.

The final two episodes could have been written for any other crime show. As mentioned, we have Cole, who even gets a book'em Cole from Steve, which can only be described as out of line. And it begs the question, was that what Lenkov originally had in mind? Danny out of the show and Cole in? Was the last episode, which mainly featured McCole, something of a test run? Did all the McDanno moments happen only to tear the two apart eventually? Was the real final scene the one where Steve and Catherine take Danny's coffin back to Jersey? Was Danny not supposed to survive? Was that the real reason Steve wanted to get out of Hawaii because he wanted to pay his respects to Danny? And would he really have returned to Hawaii later? Or would he have turned his back on Hawaii? To me, this ending is more plausible than what PL served us. Then, Steve handed over his credentials to Cole instead of Danny, his second in command. Honestly, you can't make the end of a series any more sloppy and dumber than that. And I won't even lose a word about the last 1:30 minutes because I think everything has already been said.

No PL, mission absolutely not accomplished. You created Teflon-Steve. You never wanted him to show any weakness. You turned him into a superhuman who can survive anything. Only to pull the rug out from under him on the last few meters to the finish line and spit on his legacy. How can you dismantle such a great series and its characters like you did? How much do you have to hate something to do that? In the final interviews, the showrunner didn't exactly cover himself in glory either. Everyone who grew up with the series from day one knows that its end was wrong on all the possible levels and that the showrunner is solely to blame for that. It takes a fair amount of egoism and carelessness to drive 10 years at full throttle against the wall. Not many people can do that. Whether you can be proud of that, however, I doubt.

My respect if you have made it this far. Each of you gets 10 extra brownie points for it.

#McDanno #steve mcgarrett #danny williams #scott caan #alex o'loughlin #H50 the final chapter #H50 series finale #Lenkov #Eddie #Junior #seal team

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azurevi · 4 years ago

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enstars charas with an overworked s/o

First time writing enstars🤡 this took kinda long becz exams but i hope its good ^^ also kinda self indulgent hhh

Characters : natsume, ibara, leo, tatsumi, arashi, keito

Natsume

Natsume watches from the doorway as your head bobs about, hands tapping unrhythmically on the keyboard. You're already falling asleep, yet you still refuse to go to bed.

Normally he won't interfere with your work, knowing that you're fully capable of making the right decisions, but it's a pain seeing you pushing yourself so hard.

"Still working?" he steps in, holding a steaming drink in his hands.

Your head snaps up at his voice, and you nod. It's a project that you've put off for far too long, and of course, you have to suffer the consequences.

"The deadline is two days later, if I don't finish this section today I probably won't make it in time,"

He sets the mug beside your hand, observing your wandering gaze and disheveled hair which you must've been running your hand through. "I don't think you can finish it, though. You already look worn out."

You raise the mug to your lips and take a sip of whatever it holds. The drink tastes sweet and refreshing in your mouth, and almost instantly your muscles relax. "You aren't any better, you know,"

That's true. Being a nightowl himself, Natsume's words don't really seem all that persuasive. At first you would lecture him about how little he rested, but you gave up eventually. You suppose he's built differently, seeing as he can still perform well after only three hours of sleep.

"Pretty sure I'm in better condition," he says, pulling a chair beside you and popping down. The wood scraps against the floor, creaking slightly. It's usually a sound that you find unbearable, but you seem to have missed it as you try to continue your work.

"Come here, love," he stretches his arms out, wiggling his fingers expectantly. You raise a brow, contemplating whether you should give in. It won't be a surprise if you fall asleep right away in his arms.

"But work…" you sigh, tearing your eyes from him. His shoulders drop immediately, a frown forming from the rejection. "You're just gonna leave me hanging? How cruel…"

You know he's just messing with you when he let out a dramatic huff, but somehow his defeated look still tucks at your heartstrings.

"Fine, fine…" you sigh, sneaking your arms around his torso and burying your head into his neck. His chest hums with satisfaction as he digs his fingers into your messy hair, soothing out knots he finds along the way gently. With every stroke you're getting drowsier and drowsier, and you know that you're supposed to be working, but the feeling of his hand running through your locks and the steady rise of his chest convince you to stay.

You fall asleep almost immediately after you close your eyes. Natsume calls out to you and smiles when he hears your slight snoring instead. It's probably the best to get you to the bed and tug you in, but he decides to stay in his spot for a moment longer and relish your presence.

Ibara

Ibara knows from experience just how hard it can be to sway you when you’ve made up your mind. That’s why he doesn’t try to sweet talk you or lecture you into sleeping.

No, if he really wants to get you to listen, he will have to trick you into it.

Almost like a hunter watching his prey, Ibara leans against the doorway as he tries to come up with a flawless plan for his mission. Several empty cans are littered around the desk and he can already smell the aroma of coffee from so far away. You had your fist in your hair, and every once in a while you had to stretch your muscles awkwardly from the lack of movement.

“Don’t you think you deserve a break?” he walks towards you, peeking over your shoulder at the work you’re struggling with. It’s yet another project for the other units, and you seem to be stuck in a dilemma.

“I don’t feel like sleeping without finishing this,” you say.

“Right, but I think you added an extra 0 here,” he points at the paper you're working on, where the value had been increased tenfold because of your negligence.

“Oh goodness,” you sigh deeply, immediately erasing the zero. “How amateurish of me,”

Ibara watches as you rub the space between your eyes, trying to soothe the looming headache that was making your work even harder. “It feels like all the muscles in my body died,”

“You’ve been sitting for hours after all,” Ibara suddenly smiles, his eyes diminishing into thin slits. You don’t need to hear anything to know that he’s plotting something behind the smile. “What if I give you a short massage?”

Well… that is unexpected.

“A massage,” you repeat.

“That’s right,”

Now that is interesting. You’ve heard from Hiyori about how good Ibara’s massages are for more times than you can count, and it’s something you’ve always wanted to try. It just keeps slipping your mind. A massage sounds just as appealing as a five star meal right now considering how tired your limbs feel.

“Come on, I promise it’ll be worth it,”

“Fine,”

His smile widens even more. “Alright then! Please get onto the bed,”

“You wanna do it on the bed?” you frown. “I’ll fall asleep,”

“It’s not gonna be long,”

This sounds way too risky especially with the amount of work that’s still unfinished, but his grin is unwavering, as if he already knows what your answer will be.

“God, alright,” you admit defeat and throw yourself onto the bed face first. There is a moment of quiet shuffling before Ibara settles himself behind you, making sure he isn't crushing you under his weight. His hands find their way to your back, and start working their magic.

"Normally I would get massage oils, but that'll be for next time," Ibara says in a low voice, as if trying to lull you to sleep. Hiyori was right about his skills -- you don't think you've ever had a massage so satisfying before. Somehow, he just knows where to knead and how much pressure to put. With every passing minute your muscles are getting looser, as is your mind. You almost feel bad experiencing this for free.

You're about to fall asleep when something suddenly jolted your consciousness, like a big slap to your face. You have no idea how long you've been laying down in that hazy state, but you've still got work to do.

"That was the most incredible massage ever but I have to work now…" is what you're trying to say, but the words come out too jumbled and incoherent to be understood. When you try to get up, Ibara presses you back down, insisting that he's not done with the massage yet.

"I'm going to fall asleep for real," you argue weakly as your body slumps back into the mattress. Ibara watches as your words cease and your face loosens up, mouth slightly ajar as you finally indulge yourself to sleep. Maybe you'll be mad at you in the morning, but seeing you rest makes everything worth it.

Leo

This is so, so ridiculous.

You've been telling Leo to go to bed for the past two hours, but did he listen? Evidently not, seeing as he's clinging to your arm with half-lidded eyes that are failing him every two seconds.

"Just go to sleep first, kay? I still have tons of stuff to do," you flip the pile of complicated documents around, not wanting to spare them another glance. Alas, there isn't much time left before your work is due, and the only way you can think of to tackle this is to keep pushing through no matter how worn out your body feels.

Your head is throbbing and somehow your sight just won't focus. You're pretty sure you're starving too, but you feel no incentive to leave your seat and grab snacks. No, you have to finish your work as soon as possible.

This might've been a lot easier if not for Leo. In the middle of your working he suddenly jolted awake and whined about wanting to cuddle with you. It's no surprise though, considering how often the two of you cling to each other during your sleep, but tonight just doesn't work out.

"Aren't you tired too? I can't sleep without you…" Leo mumbles.

"Pretty sure you're falling asleep as you speak," you say, even though you shouldn't be the one talking right now, not when you're also getting groggy just from his warmth and presence.

When you turn to look at him, his face is squished against your arm, mouth slightly ajar as he snores. To prevent him from waking up again, you decide to tuck him in.

Which is a big mistake, because just the sight of the bed is enough to knock you out. Also because Leo's not letting go of your arm even in his sleep.

"Come to rest, please…" he mumbles quietly and you sigh. Trying to work when your body is screaming isn't going to do much anyway, you suppose, and you flop yourself onto the mattress with the boy. Leo may be childish at times, but everything he does comes from wishing for your wellbeing.

Tatsumi

Lying to Tatsumi feels like committing the worst crime ever, but the guilt of going to sleep with your work still unfinished is even greater.

That explains why you're here under the dim light of the desk lamp against Tatsumi's advice, trying to fight the sleepiness getting to your head as you type away on the keyboard. Just a few more pages and you will go to sleep, you decide, but 'a few more pages' is looking a lot like five essays right now.

You lean back against the chair, throwing your head back. You dare not close your eyes, because you're sure a second longer than an usual blink and you'll be a goner.

"Come on, come on…" you return to the original position, shoulders slumped and eyes squinting as you try to string sentences together. What is usually an easy task has become an impossible mission, and the voice at the back of your head suggesting you to give up isn't any help.

Absorbed in your work, you fail to notice the ruffling of the blanket and the shuffling of slippers behind you. When Tatsumi sets his hands on the back of your chair and calls you, you flinch dramatically.

"Oh," you sigh after calming down. "Did I wake you up?"

"Not really," he says. "I thought you agreed to go to sleep,"

You grimace at his words that remind you how you made a false promise with him when all he wanted was for you to take care of yourself. "I know I did, but I couldn't really fall asleep thinking of all this stuff," you gesture vaguely at the screen.

"I don't think you're doing well though,"

As if trying to prove his point, a yawn escaped your lips and tears blurred your vision. "I suppose not,"

He sits back onto the bed, reaching out so that he can hold your hands in his. "It's no use trying to work in your current state, you know? I know that you're feeling stressed out from all the work piling up, but rest is important for your productivity too. And I'd hate to see you overworking yourself," he pressed a kiss to your knuckles. "Let's go to bed first, and we'll tackle whatever's on your plate tomorrow, alright?"

He doesn't have to say much to sway you. It's one of his charms anyways -- being able to persuade you without even trying.

Arashi

Arashi glances at the clock. 1am. You've been working at your desk since 8, and she can see that you're already starting to fall asleep.

"Sweetheart? You should go rest," she says softly, resting her arms on your shoulders from behind. This brings your mind back to the present, and you sigh realizing that you've zoned out once again.

"Is this due soon?" Arashi asks.

"Not quite, but I don't want to pile everything up. I'm supposed to finish this part today but so many things happened that hindered my plans," you rub you the corners of your eyes. "And I'm already feeling tired,"

"Then you should probably sleep, right? Lack of sleep can mess your face up easily," she turns to cup your face, professionally observing your skin and missing the blush on your face. "You still look cute, but I'd be really sad if you became a victim of sleep deprivation~"

Her voice sounds light and casual, but you can tell that she's genuinely worried about your health. You pull her into a hug, burying your head in her clothes. She always gives the best hugs, hugs that understands you without having to exchange words, hugs that reassure you and rid you of anything on your mind, that remind you even if the world turned its back on you, you'd still have a home to come to.

"Let's go to bed," you suggest, voice woozy.

"Sure, but let's do some skincare routine first!"

You always enjoy doing routines with her even though you're never one to pay much attention to yourself. But something about her being close and taking care of your face makes you feel at ease, and with her soft hands working on your cheeks, you quickly fall asleep.

Noticing your dropping head, Arashi lets out a sigh before carrying you in her arms, planting a light kiss on your forehead

"Sweet dreams, my love,"

Keito

When you started dating Keito, Kuro was quite delighted. One because he never believed someone could actually put up with the man, and two because someone can finally keep an eye on his atrocious working schedule.

What he didn't expect though, is that you're just as much of a hard worker as Keito.

As the night passes, the two of you are still working incessantly. Except from the occasional small talks, there's only the sound of paper and keyboard in the room. The tea he brewed a while ago has already been emptied. You turn to look at the green-haired man, and although you can only see his back, he doesn't seem to be too affected by all this work. Perhaps his monstrous workload back in Yumenosaki Academy has turned him into a machine who doesn't feel tired.

But that can't be true. Surely, overworking a lot doesn't make you immune to it. Keito may not be vocal about how he feels, but he's still a human, and he's bound to feel tired,

The tapping sound on his end pauses abruptly as he turns to you, only to meet your observing eyes. This startles him a bit, and you let out a small chuckle.

"You should go rest-" he glances at the clock on the wall and frowns. "-it's already so late,"

"You're one to talk," you retort.

"I can still function without sleeping, but you shouldn't push yourself too hard,"

There it is again. He never seems to acknowledge his own weaknesses, only paying attention to others as he hides his feelings inside the myriad of work thrown at him each day.

"No one can 'function without sleeping', Keito. You're not a superman,"

"..."

Keito's shoulders are still tense, but he seems to be deep in thought as he isn't working on the computer either. After a moment of silence, he shakes his head and resumes typing. Perhaps he's reminded of his responsibilities, of the various roles that he plays, and how he can't afford to let anyone down.

As always, it's hard to move Keito. You brush it off and turn back to your work.

It isn't until Keito stands up to get himself a new mug of tea that he realizes how drained you look. Your eyelids are drooping and even from far away he can notice errors on the computer screen. Your figure is slouched, leaning towards the table like you just want to fall asleep right there but can't.

"You should really go to bed," Keito walks to you, hand resting on the chair's rail.

"Are you going to come with me?"

"What?"

"Are you going to come to bed with me?" you repeat.

"I still have work,"

"Then I'm not gonna rest yet,"

Keito raises his brows. "Are you threatening me with your own health?"

"If this is what I need to do for you to rest, then so be it,"

Silence fills the room. He watches as you tap away on the keyboard, re-typing every once in a while because your fingers just can't seem to find the keys. It's almost painful to watch.

"How incorrigible," Keito sighs. "Alright. Let's go,"

You jump to your feet immediately, dragging him to the bedroom. "No sneaking out after I fall asleep, okay? You have to rest for real,"

"Fine," Keito grunts.

The moment his head falls onto the pillow, he swears he can slip into dreamland right away. You throw your arm across his torso and he instinctively rests his head atop yours, listening as your breathing becomes more and more calm.

The both of you may be hopeless cases, but you always find a way to hold each other up.

#enstars x reader #ensemble stars #enstars #natsume sakasaki #ibara saegusa #leo tsukinaga #arashi narukami #tatsumi kazehaya #keito hasumi #sie writes

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dreamsmp-au-ideas · 4 years ago

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Guess it’s good brother dream brain rot time now that we’ve pretty much canonized phoenix Tommy in it. I must now do my proper due diligence. Adding in my two cents and furthering the spread of my brand, phoenix Tommy.

When Tommy is a little tiny thing Phil does everything in his power to try and keep it quiet that Tommy isn’t a regular avian hybrid, but a phoenix. Things like phoenixes, dragons, or other mythical avians are extremely rare mutations that happen seemingly without any reason but will often reoccur within the same bloodline more often than not.

Phil is something mythical. Maybe a dragon, maybe a griffin, maybe even something a little less well known like the zhenniao, yatagarasu, or alicanto. Either way he’s something mythical, it runs in his blood. It ends up running in Tommy’s too. Phil is one of the few mythological avians who doesn’t hide his features because people are usually far too fearful of both him an Technoblade to do anything. Unfortunately, what people weren’t scared of was the idea of trying to kidnap a child.

There were attempts to steal away Wilbur when he was little. Before he started presenting and turned out to be just your regular avian. There were fewer attempts when it came to Tommy. There was unfortunately one attempt that ended up being successful, he was stolen from the cradle and subsequently lost in a skirmish when Techno and Phil caught up to the man who took Tommy.

Dream found baby Tommy floating along in the river, figured the kid was probably abandoned since he’d heard of orphaned children being floated down rivers and never seen again, and subsequently took Tommy in.

Everything was fine and okay for a couple years and Tommy was quickly accepted into the family. Unfortunately when Tommy turned five his traits started to come in and he nearly burned down the house. The family didn’t want to abandon Tommy but realizing he was a mythical avian was a problem to say the least. So Dream, having recently become an active admin, gathered up his things and left with Tommy. He didn’t blame his family for their worries but he wasn’t going to abandon his little brother either. Not when he’d found Tommy. Not when he’d been the one to practically raise Tommy.

Dream and Tommy were very distrustful of strangers still for obvious reasons and Tommy was pretty much stuck wearing the mask in order to protect himself, but Dream did what he could. Dream didn’t originally wear a mask actually, he decided they should match as a way to make Tommy feel bad for always having to wear the mask when he didn’t want to. He found private places that were safe where Tommy could practice flying and stretch his wings since Dream was super concerned early on about them atrophying and never being able to properly carry Tommy. Sure, it was too dangerous for Tommy to actively go flying often, but Dream didn’t want to accidentally ruin Tommy’s chances of ever being able to fly. The most important facet of their relationship is that he wanted to protect Tommy but never cage him.

When Dream first took control of the Dream SMP it was originally so he could make it a safe space for himself and Tommy, only allowing his few friends who knew about Tommy and what he was to join, like Sapnap and George who have a super good relationship with both Dream and Tommy in this au. Dream is still super jumpy and protective of Tommy and Tommy trusts people a lot less, but Tommy also acts as something of an ambassador in Dream’s interpersonal relationships, keeping Dream from becoming too jumpy and letting them decay. Similarly Dream taught Tommy to be a lot more cautious of strangers and this Tommy is a heck of a lot stronger having grown up with a pvp legend like Dream.

When other people started joining it was still a controlled enough environment that while cautious, Dream let Tommy “play” for lack of a better word. Three canon lives is a rule everywhere that everyone has to abide by, regardless of what admin you’re living under. The admin doesn’t get to decide what’s canon either, it’s something seemingly up to chance. Or maybe the gods. No one knows what makes being pushed off a cliff by your mortal enemy so different from falling off one by your own stupidity, but some people theorize it’s the intention of the action.

Obviously this isn’t a rule that applies to Tommy. They both know it, him and Dream. And here’s the thing. Some legends say that there are no draw backs to a phoenix dying. Others say that too many deaths too quickly will slowly harm the phoenix. Both of these are false. A phoenix needs deaths. Canon deaths. The same way that kids needs to be tossed in the air and spun around to help develop their brains as really little kids, a phoenix needs to die repeatedly for their brains and bodies to properly mature fully and in a healthy manner. It’s an actual necessity for them to die, in fact, too few canon deaths run the risk of a phoenix getting sick and dying permanently.

So when new people join the Dream SMP, Dream doesn’t hesitate letting Tommy side against him. It’s an unspoken rule between them. Good brother Dream goes pretty similar to canon up until Pogtopia actually. Dream doesn’t hesitate to take those two canon lives and Tommy intentionally misses during their duel. He ends up with way more canon deaths than just two, and he keeps secret what they are from the rest of the SMP, saying the two times Dream killed him were the canon two. Each time he dies his magic gets a little stronger, his feathers taking on an even glossier coat. He still gets pissed at Eret after the betrayal because everyone else doesn’t have unlimited canon lives, but Dream shushes and reassures him that if anyone does die permanently then he’ll help Tommy bring them back.

Phoenixes are creatures tied to the frayed and broken bridge that crosses life and death. Just like they can’t die and have dominance over flames, another power of the phoenixes is that they’re uniquely skilled when it comes to necromancy. Real necromancy. Not the human equivalent that brings back soulless husks with a tendency for destruction and malevolence. A phoenix is the only creature that can bring a soul back from the dead in tact. Tommy knows this by merit of instinct, and did it only once before for the sake of Dream. Regular people know this by merit of books like the one Schlatt tries to trade Dream.

So Dream and Tommy mostly put on an act while the war is happening but then act all buddy buddy and like actual brothers off the battle fields which confuses everyone (besides the already aware George and Sapnap) and mildly upsets Wilbur, but everyone just kinda gets used to it.

Until Pogtopia. Because we need some kind of conflict I’m giving Schlatt a very special role. Schlatt was a hybrid who got captured by poachers as a child and sold into the hybrid slave trade. He was one of the lucky few who turned the tables and managed to earn his freedom, ultimately turning towards being a poacher himself. Schlatt comes to L'manberg and becomes president with the intention of selling every hybrid in the country, in the Dream SMP as a whole, to his traders. The reason he chose the Dream SMP specifically? Well, wouldn’t you know it, he’s heard rumors that apparently there’s a phoenix hiding around somewhere. Not to mention the Dream SMP is absolutely loaded with hybrids because of Dream’s rather public policy about hybrid tolerance (he isn’t a hybrid, but he knows the affect being a hybrid has had on Sapnap and he still fears for Tommy so he tries to make somewhere that maybe one day Tommy can be open about what he is.)

Schlatt can’t immediately tell it’s Tommy who’s the phoenix because Tommy himself is an even rarer variation of phoenix called a soul flame phoenix, which is why his eyes and wings are a soul fire blue. Schlatt came in expecting crimson and our boy is out here with wings that look like the place where the sky meets the sea. Schlatt even dismisses Tommy initially and starts investigating some of the people who look human or avians with orange and yellow feathers. This is also why Phil can’t immediately recognize Tommy when he joins the SMP. While he can hide them with magic, Tommy usually has his wings on display since the Dream SMP is designed to be a safe space for hybrids. This Dream doesn’t have a ban on flying (he thought about it, maybe setting aside specific areas where winged hybrids could exercise, but it was quickly scrapped via Tommy repeatedly throwing himself off cliffs and then remembering he wasn’t supposed to be flying, immediately letting himself drop and die. Some of those ‘accidents’ were even canon and Dream just gave up on the rule.)

For this AU, I imagine that Dream would be a bit more in tune with people and empathetic so he’d probably call in Techno and Phil for help when he sees Wilbur starting to take a dive. Both out of worry for his own younger brother who’s sticking by Wilbur and consideration for the fact Wilbur himself took something of an older brother role. Sure he was a little jealous, but he understand well enough that everyone who meets Tommy either falls into one of two categories. They hate the kid and want him dead or they want to be his older sibling who’d burn down the world if he asked them to. George and Sapnap can both attest to the fact there are only two types of people in this world when it comes to Tommy and people usually start as the first before slowly becoming the second.

So Techno and Phil show up early which is really good because Schlatt finally reveals his true intentions and neither Techno nor Phil are very chill with them. I dunno how the reveal will go between them and Tommy yet. I don’t even know for Good Brother Dream if we’re having Techno be a family friend or older brother so hard to say.

Anyway, I think that’d probably be where the main plot kinda starts to kick off so I’ll stop there for now. If I go for too much longer I’ll just end up wanting to write it…

#dream smp #dream smp au #good brother dream au #philza #ph1lza #tommyinnit #wilbur soot #dream #dreamwastaken #sapnap #georgenotfound #jschlatt #technoblade #submission #snapdragon & firefly

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subbing-for-clones · 4 years ago

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She Who Walks the Line Between Part 1

Maul x GreyJedi!Reader

Summary: A lone grey force user has sequestered herself in the furthest regions from the inner rim that could reasonably reach. She never could have fit in with the Jedi and their plethora of useless rules and regulations. Nor could find her way with the Sith and their needless thirst for power and control. After spending years along-side them both and learning all she could she took to the life of a hermit so she could continue her studies in peace. She lived happily until someone’s pain ripped through her inner sanctum. Now restless, she must tip the scales back in the favor of balance.

Word Count: 2085

WARNINGS: Mentions of pain and injury.

NEXT MASTERLIST

So far out in the outer rim it could be considered wild space existed a planet blanketed with jungles and planes. This lonely world is where you called home. Far from wars, from civilization and the unbalanced frivolous problems that existed within this universe. As secluded as it was, this small planet was in perfect balance. Hunters sought their prey and the prey helped one another to survive. Close enough to the ocean that you could smell the salt in the air during a storm; on the border between grass lands and what seemed like infinite jungle, a large stone cottage stood firmly as if it had grown straight from the soil like the crops that lined the east wall.

Your ship was still warm from your recent trip to a more populated system for supplies impossible to come by on your world. This recent trip had left you weary, visions and a voice now plagued your mind. Quiet was all you wanted. Just quiet. Yet screams of agony filled your ears through the force as you sipped your fresh mint tea on the roof of your home. You scanned the planes that spread in front of you as if you could locate the origin of this suffering behind one of the blades of tall grass.

Closing your eyes with the cup still hot between your clasped hands you quieted your mind and reached out into the force.

Blazing heaps of metal.

Sweltering heat.

Foul sulfuric stench.

A man, no, half of one. Red and black flesh, a crown of stained ivory horns.

A mess of steel legs, bellowing raggedly.

“Always remember I am fear. Always remember I am hunter, always remember I am filth, always remember I am... nothing!” His glowing eyes seemed to meet yours. Holding for but a moment.

Slowly your eyes opened, looking around to convince yourself that the man you connected with didn't lay before you now. Satisfied that you were where you had started in your meditation you looked up to the sky, dusty with the falling sunset. You closed your eyes again and whispered to the universe through the force, "find me," casting out reassuring waves of unwavering peace and tranquility towards wherever this wretched soul writhed.

~~~~~

Maul screamed in agony and rage. He couldn't remember anything but a name and a grim mantra that he repeated over and over for a decade hoping against hope to be comforted by it. Although comfort never came, something new spanned out in front of him. For the first time in years, something new graced his vision. A woman.

Glistening eyes heavy lidded but bright. A figure clad in light grey dress sitting in a meditative position. Her plump lips whispered two simple words to him. Find me. For the first time that he could remember he had something he needed to do other than devour and wail. A purpose perhaps.

His steel spider legs twitched as he crawled his way out from his hole in the depths of Lotho Minor. The atmosphere was a thick, dingy fawn. Perfectly akin to the scent of fire and sulfur that he could no longer smell. The grey pressed dirt kicked up from the ends of his jagged limbs as he pulled himself across the hellish landscape. Drop ships came here frequently to dump garbage but every so often a scavenger would come to brave the terrain in search of something of value. As luck would have it, a small ship had landed some time ago, the pilot likely perished to one of the many dangers here on the planet wide dumping grounds. Fear encompassing his mind, he eased toward the abandoned ship. Eight legs clumsily carrying his torso forward. Eyes darting around for the owner of this vessel but none in sight. Cautiously he boarded.

Muscle memory took over as he powered up and took flight. His ship floated stationary just outside the atmosphere, he gazed upon open space for the first time in twelve years, shrinking back into a corner out of fear of the openness after so long in the confined darkness of a hole in the ground. He was loosing the little motivation for momentum that he had and was torn between surging forward and retreating back to what was familiar. Even if he did continue on, he didn’t know where to go.

"I don't know... I don't know... I don't KNOW... where.. to go… WHERE ARE YOU?!" He sobbed. As if to answer his question his vision clouded over and a sense of peace eased his twisted, knotted muscles as well as his fractured mind. Images of tall cliffs overlooking a roaring ocean. The sounds of creatures chattering unseen in a dark jungle lit by bioluminescent fauna. Wind blowing through tall dry grasses. Smoke drifting out of a chimney. The woman he had seen, sitting on a wooden porch.

Without opening his eyes he punched coordinates into the nav computer that if asked to, he couldn't have recited. Hyperdrive activated, he vanished into the unknown, convinced this was his destiny. To find the ghost of a woman he had seen in his squalor.

~~~~~

You woke just before dawn with a start. Something was coming, you weren't quite sure what. You couldn't see it clearly through the force but you could feel the darkness. Cold like the side of a moon that had never been blessed by the sun. The universal scale tipped out of balance and it rang through you like a gong.

Groaning, you pushed the woolen blanket covering your body aside and stood, pulling on a slate-colored cotton dress and slipping your feet into your shoes. You peered out of the transparasteel, the sky was dark but just starting to blue. An hour before sunrise you guessed. Sighing and making your way to the kitchen you put on some caf. If you had to be awake this early at least you'd be caffeinated.

Stepping out onto your porch you could hear the goats you kept nearby bleating alarms at you. Sending them calming waves through the force was all you could do. A moment later you could sense a ship entering the atmosphere. You squinted while shushing the goats from your perch. In all your years on this planet you had never seen another ship aside from your own. You strode to the west side of your home and herded the goats back inside the barn while fetching a large basket. Locking them safely inside before you made your way toward the landing ship. Keeping a hundred meters or so between you and the ramp that extended, eyeing the opening cautiously. Darkness spilled out along with the monstrosity of what was, at one point, a Zabrack. Easily recalling him from your vision you weren't afraid in the least. Perhaps a bit surprised that he had found you so quickly but not afraid.

You had strode half the distance between you and the man before stopping and placing the basket at your side. You watched as he limped over to you, unbalanced in every sense of the word. Physically clumsy and mentally clouded he laughed and sobbed utterly broken.

"I found... you." He groaned hoarsely. Pointing a shaking finger in your direction.

Not saying a word you looked him up and down, lingering where scrap met his organic body. His horns over grown, his eyes bloodshot so horribly there was hardly any white to them. His legs rusting away. His face was gaunt with starvation. This man that stood before you was what was tipping the scale out of balance. Mentally making a decision you nodded, fearlessly and confidently you closed the last of the distance between you and him, gazing right into those burning eyes until his face relaxed a bit out of utter confusion. He hadn’t known what to expect when he found you. He could feel your force signature surrounding you. An aura of equally bright and dark colors swirling together.

"You did find me." You paused for a moment. Turning and walking along the line between the plains and jungle you looked over your shoulder, he hadn't moved.

"Come. We have much work to do with you." You sighed.

He followed you unsteady on those eight spindly legs. How he managed that much force energy to make them walk you had no idea. They definitely weren't powered or connected to his nervous system so he had to be using the force. A Sith by the feel of it, if not a Sith then he was only calling upon the dark side. Not a drop of light permeated from his aura. Yet he followed you silently.

~~~~~

This woman he followed, he couldn't sense or smell any fear in her. But he could sense something. She was strong with both the light and the dark sides of the force. So strong that he could feel it coming off her like a reactor. He eyed the two lightsabers that clung to her legs. The dress she wore slit all the way up both sides. They didn't hang from a belt like his used to but rather were strapped to each if her thighs. Her hair draped down her back, glinting in the very early morning sunrise.

He followed this woman snarling occasionally in pain but otherwise silent until they reached a cliff that overlooked the ocean. The waters were calm, the smell of salt on the air familiar but he couldn't place a memory with it.

She turned to meet his eyes and he froze. "Stay put for a moment I need to collect clay from the cliffs" and without waiting for his response she stepped over the edge and landed gracefully on a ledge fifty feet below. He dared not move even to look and see what this woman was doing. Fear starting to spread through him again he missed his hole in the bowels of Lotho Minor.

Just after he thought the thought she leapt high above and over him, feet touching down silently. He still jumped back defensively and growled. The woman sighed and balanced the large basket now packed high with clay atop her head and beckoned him back the way they came with two fingers and a nod.

Slowly once again he followed but this time he spoke.

"Are you a jedi?" He hissed, eyes narrowing.

"Gods no," she replied curtly.

"Are you Sith then?"

"Wrong again." Without looking back at him she replied in a sing song tone.

He followed her silently in thought. Listening to birds chirp in the jungle to his left.

"What.. are you...?" He dared to ask almost whispering.

She didn't reply to him until her home was in view again.

"I am the one who walks the line between the dark and the light. Not a jedi, not a Sith but something so much more." She gazed off into the horizon, her mind wandering to places he could not see.

"What do you want with me?" He snarled yet still he followed.

"You are no longer a Sith yet the darkness rages inside you like a storm. It is upsetting the balance and quite frankly, I've been bored so I'm not going to just kill you off. I'm going to bring you back from the precipice." She stopped and turned to face him.

"But first I'm going to fix this mess." She said tapping one of his hideous legs.

He didn't know what was to come or become of him but for the first time in a very long time he felt something that wasn't fear or rage. He didn't know what to call it but he was glad for a second that he found this planet.

#maul x reader #star wars #grey jedi #jedi knight #sith warrior #jedi reader #please love me #series #darth maul #star wars maul #swtcw au #star wars au #fanfic #maul fluff #star wars fluff

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