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tarabyte3 · 2 years

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I Want You to Show Me Weak

Fandom: Andor

Pairing: Kino Loy/F!Reader

Chapter 2/27 (1.8k words)

<- Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 ->

Summary: You're pretty sure Kino Loy hates you. He screams at you, grabs you, and shoves you against the wall, and it's becoming a problem because, well...it shouldn't fluster you as much as it does.

Warnings: Explicit rating, Smut, Prison, Prison sex, minor non-graphic injuries, Dom/Sub, sexual tension, dirty talk, praise, hair-pulling, light choking, unprotected sex, oral, angst

A/N: If you wanted Dom Kino on top of dirty talk Kino, boy do I have some good news for you 😌 Work title is from "Poison" by Vaults. Chapter title is from "Glory Box" by Portishead

AO3 Link

Chapter 2 - Give me a reason to be a woman, I just want to be a woman

There are a few days of blessed silence after that, and it's definitely not because you're sulking. You're being good.

Then today you really fuck up.

Your table finishes prepping the large base piece and Jevid calls clear so the next part can be raised and attached. And you are clear. But you notice, at some point, Edii had bumped a wrench and it slid under the center, just hidden from view. It has been a long shift, everyone is tired, and no one caught it. When the second piece lifts, the wrench is going to be pinned and wedged between the two parts, possibly damaging something and causing a massive headache. The shift is almost over. You're in fourth place. This is the last part and you just want to be done.

Without thinking, you reach your hand between the closing gap to grab it. Likely one of the stupidest things you've ever done, other than getting caught selling lifted parts. You would have had it, too, except when you pull back, your wrist is turned just far enough in the wrong direction, and the tool gets stuck. Your hand doesn't slide out like you expect it to, and the gap is closing. The whole moment had taken maybe three seconds, which is an impressively short amount of time to fuck up on such a massive scale. Perhaps a personal record.

Edii and Alis notice your predicament and begin shouting for Jevid to stop. There's a cacophony of panicked voices, then Sorrek is wrapping his arms around you from behind and pulling you free. Your grip on the wrench loosens at the shock of being suddenly touched, and you drop it as your arm passes through the gap. The tool clatters innocuously to the table just as the lift stops.

Everyone stares at you in shock, expressions that are becoming all too fucking familiar. Sorrek, however, keeps his arms around you, hugging you to him, and reluctant to let go. It's soothing, even though his larger frame is tense behind you. You don't have to see his face to know there is fear there. The room gets quiet in waves of shushes as people across the floor begin to notice something is happening. And that something has to do with you, so it probably isn't good. Then you hear Sorrek's quiet voice say, "You're bleeding."

"Oh." That's when you notice the large cut on the back of your hand. It must have gotten snagged when you were pulled free. "It doesn't hurt." You turn it around experimentally, and blood runs down your fingers. "It's bleeding a lot, though."

Sorrek finally releases you, giving your arm a reassuring rub as he does, and you immediately miss the contact. You can't remember the last time someone hugged you. It's been longer than you've been in prison, you realize. In your field of vision, you see Alis nervously watching over your shoulder and then he straightens up in anticipation.

You don't get the chance to wince before there is another hand on you, gripping your arm tightly, and spinning you around. Then you're face to face with Kino. He looks furious, but his eyes are wide in alarm. He stares at your face, glances down at your bleeding hand, then back at you.

"I'm so sorry, Kino!" You blurt out before he can say anything. To your own horror, you sound like you're ready to burst into tears. You think you might be. "I didn't mean to! I was just trying to stop the part from getting ruined."

He looks behind you at the machine, his blue eyes studying it intently, as if he might be able to glean any information from its current state. Then he scans over your crew for answers, pausing for a second on each one of them, but no one says anything. Everyone is still too shocked to speak. Or maybe they don't actually know what happened because you hadn't told them. Either way, you expect Kino to start screaming. Instead, he just says, "Come with me. Threl has the floor."

You follow behind him, holding your hand to put pressure on the wound, and feeling addled and lightheaded. It all happened so fast. He takes you to the locker room and straight to the back corner where there's a med station on the wall. You haven't seen anyone use it before, but Kino seems familiar with all of the packaging on the inside and rifles through it with expertise.

"Sit down on the bench," he says without turning to look at you. You obey, feeling wretched. The pain is finally beginning to register and it burns all the way up to your elbow. You're also waiting to be berated for being so stupid, and you just wish he would get it over with. Kino eventually joins you with wipes and patches, and sets them on the bench next to you. At first you think he's going to make you do it yourself, but then he kneels before you and waits. You hesitantly hold your injured hand out to him and it's shaking. You redden in embarrassment when you notice and look down at your lap. He doesn't say anything, though. Just takes it in his much larger, rougher palm to examine the cut. Then he sets to work, silently cleaning you up.

He's surprisingly gentle. More so than you thought possible, especially in regards to you. You watch him wipe away your blood, being careful not to press too hard on the cut because you suck in a pained breath when he does. And you realize you've never been this close to him without him furious at you. You take a moment to examine his face. He isn't unattractive, you think. At least when he's not scowling, and he's usually scowling. He's not scowling right now, though. He's focused on what he's doing, which is holding your hand while he massages a salve into your wound, his fingers stroking your skin. A little whine escapes your throat and you really hope he thinks it's from the pain. You really hope it is from the pain.

After you're all patched up, he goes to close up the med station and he's still not speaking. You tentatively flex your hand, feeling the adhesive of the cover pull on your flesh. Moving it hurts, but it isn't exposed and unbearable anymore. You have to admit, he did a pretty good job taping it closed. When he returns to stand in front of you with his arms crossed, you flounder a bit because you don't know what to say to him that isn't more apologizing.

"Aren't you going to yell at me?" You ask quietly.

He gives you a sharp glance. You brace yourself, thinking he's finally ready to scold you for messing up and almost crushing your hand. Finally going to get it over with. But he doesn't actually look pissed. Well, any more pissed than usual. He just tilts his head slightly, as if he's considering you for a moment.

"I've realized you don't respond to yelling." There's a slight emphasis on yelling.

"Oh," you say lamely. Because what else are you supposed to say?

"But there is a reason we have our protocols. You have to keep them in mind. Always. That way they become second nature and you aren't sticking your hand in the machine without thinking." He's patient without being patronizing, and you wonder how hitting Taybus got more of a rise out of him than you almost losing your hand. You also realize he guessed exactly what went wrong, which means you aren't the first to do so. Which is a relief. At least you aren't finding new ways to cause him a headache.

"Okay." And you really do understand how much you fucked up. You knew the second you stuck your hand in there. "Is this…your new approach to discipline?" You try to give him a small smile, but it feels wrong to smile at Kino.

"No." There's something about the way that single word sounds, rough and low, that causes your heart rate to pick up. You open your mouth to ask what his new approach is, then, but he speaks before you get the chance.

"Have any of them bothered you?"

It isn't the question you're expecting. You aren't sure what you were expecting, but you know it isn't that. Maybe he's finally taking the opportunity for a check-in? He's barely spoken to you since your first day unless you were in trouble. "You have met some of the people in here, right? Of course some of them have bothered me. The way Rosh clears his sinuses makes me—"

"That's not what I mean." He continues to stare at you with his unreadable, too serious expression. You aren't sure how he manages to be so in control. Every line of his forehead looks like it may as well be carved from stone.

You stare back, wracking your brain to figure out what he means by bother, until— "Oh." You blush. "No, nothing like that. Everyone must think I'm cursed." You intend for it to be a joke, but it comes out more self deprecating than funny.

"Good." He takes a step towards you, and you lean back instinctively on the bench. There's no aggression in the act, though, and it's not fear or concern that coils in your belly in response, you realize. "None of them are allowed to bother you."

"Not allowed?" You ask, nearly breathless. "Are there rules?"

"Not officially." His expression is still so passive, so serious and you want him to crack. To give you a glimpse at whatever is underneath and driving this conversation forward.

"Then I don't understand. Says who?" He doesn't respond. "Says you?"

"Says me." There's an insistence there, a spark of that same passion his anger stems from. You know that whatever he's actually saying, he means it.

And you're intrigued by what's happening because you've never seen him like this. But you're also deeply confused because you don't understand the sudden change.

"Why?"

Instead of responding, he gives you the barest hint of a smirk, and you suddenly feel like he's laughing at you. Then he turns and stalks out of the room.

You sit there, your mind reeling as you try to figure out what the fuck just happened because you must be in shock, until the rest of the shift files in. Your table immediately finds you and begins to fret. And by your table, you mean Threl and Sorrek. They also try to scold you, but it's half hearted at best. Mostly they're just glad you're okay. And honestly, so are you.

At least you think you're okay.

NEXT CHAPTER->

#andor fanfic #kino loy #kino loy x reader #kino loy x f!reader #i want you to show me weak fic #fanfiction

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sueske · 2 years

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It really hurts seeing Sasuke's character being so horribly misinterpreted by the Naruto fandom. They be tryna downplay all his good qualities because he needs to be as villainous as they think he is. He's a heartless, misogynistic narcissist whose trauma shouldn't matter because of the way he acted with people (I don't remember him having any reason to be all sweet and smiley like Naruto. And he's not misogynistic just because he put Sakura in her place and defended himself. It was wrong, however, for him to leave Karin to die, but that still doesn't make him misogynistic. I think they need to look at how a true narcissist actually acts before they say that Sasuke is one, because he isn't). His trauma wasn't as bad as he claims it did, according to them. But Itachi's was so much worse than Sasuke's! He literally had to choose between his clan, his family over the failure of a village Konoha is! How is that not more traumatic than what Sasuke had to endure?!! He should just suck it up like his older brother and Kakashi did (because apparently watching your family being murdered 500k+ times is not as bad. He just needs to suck it up? Okay)! He's also trash because he abandoned his friends/teammates (while ignoring the fact that Sasuke put his team at risk for Karin, and risked his life and goals multiple times for Naruto, cool). He doesn't care about anyone (then I'm assuming Itachi and Naruto don't exist). He's selfish too (his end goal was for no one to experience what he did, he was also fighting for justice. His way of seeking that fairness was twisted for sure, but he was willing to risk the entire world staring down at him to reach that goal, but hey! Remember, he's not all sunshine and bright like Naruto so he's in the wrong for seeking justice too!)

It surprises me that they don't even acknowledge the fact that he was still sane and even still some care and compassion in his heart before he left the village, and even after he found out the truth about Itachi.

This fandom gives me a headache, but I can't leave no matter how much I want to cuz Narusasu exists.

my face while I was reading this 😐

Many people just see sasuke as a good looking dude who should act how they want rather than how sasuke himself is as a character, and when sasuke acts contrary to how they want him to act they peg him as 'narcissistic’ and 'misogynistic' and 'in the wrong' because it's much easier to make sasuke out to be the 'villain' when he rightfully puts their favs in their place instead of examining their own views on sasuke and their favs and introspectively asking themselves why they think like that in the first place smh

#anon #ask #how do I even tag this #my stuff

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space-specs · 1 year

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I, T and X <333

Thanks for the ask bestie, this was very fun!!

I - Has tumblr caused you to stop liking any fandoms, if so, which and why

BBC Sherlock. I really wanted to watch this show when it was all over tumblr and all my friends were watching it back in like 2014, but I never got around to it. Eventually, people stepped back and were like "actually, so much about this show sucks so much", and I was just kinda glad I'd never actually watched it yet and now I won't. If I want Sherlock content, tbh, I'll probably just rewatch "Elementary, Dear Data" from Star Trek: TNG. Or finally finish the Enola Holmes stuff.

T - Do you have any hard and fast headcanons that you will die defending, about anything at all (gender identity, sexual or romantic orientation, extended family, sexual preferences like top/bottom/switch, relationship with poetry, seriously anything)

Duke Thomas cannot make direct eye contact with people. It gives him a splitting headache. Since eyes both absorb and reflect light, looking directly at someone's eyes creates a sort of feedback loop of light beams for him.

Cass is, in all actuality, older than Jason. However, because there is some ambiguity about her precise age, both of them frequently insist they are the older sibling of the two. They could very easily confirm who is older; they both refuse because they don't want to be wrong.

Steph is more of the common sense in the batfam than people give her credit for. Don't get me wrong, she is far from normal (she is vigilante, she grew up in Gotham), but she is the one with the wherewithal to, idk, solve her problems by actually talking to people. She's clever and witty and quick on her feet and actually some really good and really practical people skills.

Duke and Jason are both functionally immortal for different reasons. (Also, they are good brothers and DC needs to bring back the two of them getting to interact).

Tim doesn't call Bruce "dad" and probably never will. Not because he doesn't see Bruce as his parent, but because "dad" has some very complex connotations for him and he doesn't want to apply those to Bruce. More specifically, because good batdad is canon to me, Bruce is better than what "dad" means to him. (It’s also important to me that Jack does try to be a father to Tim and does love him. But loving your kid is not always enough. Sometimes you still hurt them).

There's definitely something I'm forgetting that I'm even more die hard about, but this is already more than I intended on writing for this one 😂 needless to say this is a fun question. (Also maybe putting this out will kickstart me writing the fics I have planned based on 3 of these)

X - top 5-10 characters who are yoUR PRECIOUS BABIES AND YOU WILL DIE DEFENDING THEM

Tried very hard not to just put every single batkid on this list but know that I would go to war for any of them I love them all so much.

In no particular order

1. Jason Todd -- listen, do I think his philosophy on crime should be applied to the real world? No, absolutely not. Has he done anything wrong ever? Also no.

2. Duke Thomas (bonus: the whole We Are Robin crew) -- if you hate Duke Thomas, meet me in Denny's parking lot. Something is clearly wrong with you and I will right it via blunt force trauma /j.

3. Tim Drake -- Catch me untangling the mess that is his fanon and canon characterizations and weaving a beautiful tapestry out of it. I see so many wrong interpretations about him and I am tired. Very carefully sorting out what should and shouldn't be kept from both fanon and canon every time I write him.

4. Cassandra Cain -- she has done nothing wrong ever and she deserves to be Batman. my favorite weirdgirl ever <3

5. Trevor Belmont -- my wife /p just introduced me to Castlevania and I did not expect to love it this much. Trevor is my babygirl and I would die for him.

6. Sypha -- I love her soooo much and I am dreading any potential romantic arcs to come about since she's the female lead because I really don't think she needs it. Please let her be cool af and single and not ruined in favor of the inevitable contrived romance, oh god.

7. Rise!Mikey -- I started my dive into tmnt content with Rise and then I tried to go back and watch 2012 because people said it was also good but they were so mean to Mikey 😭 I couldn't do it. He is like a squeaky toy to me.

8. Rise!Donnie -- I am captivated by his autism swag. Enough said. (Him and Mikey as a brother duo is so precious to me).

9. Razer -- Watch Green Lantern: The Animated Series if you haven't already. Do it. I promise you will not regret it. I won't say anything because spoilers but I have so much to say.

10. Talia al Ghul -- I am taking a knife to canon and carving out the parts I don't like because she is a good mom, goddammit!

Bonus: Koriand'r. I haven't read enough comics to know much about her, but I respect woman juice everyday for my favorite 6+ ft buff alien woman. (She should get to be huge and strong and I will fight for that).

#ask game #spec-text-ular #dc #batfam #batfam headcanons #duke thomas #stephanie brown #cassandra cain #tim drake #jason todd #just tagging the hc section because i don't want to clog up any other tags with this lol #had a lot of fun with this and ending up writing way more than i expected lol

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that-sarcastic-writer · 3 years

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Coach (1)

Fandom: Dylan O'Brien

Pairing: AU Dylan x Fem!Reader

Mini series summary: Being a newly single mom of two kids wasn't exactly easy. And love wasn't exactly part of your agenda. So, should you avoid lusting over your son's baseball coach? Absolutely. But with a man like Dylan, could you really resist? Probably not.

Warnings: nothing major yet, small sexual innuendo, mentions of cheating and divorce

WC: 1.9k

A/N: a yes, to those who have been following me for a while may recognize this title, it's my old Dylan AU fic. Yes I decided to continue it. Updates will come periodically, because I write spontaneously and I cant guarantee quick updates. But I do promise I wont wait a whole year to update. And since I did some slight updates in the first 2 parts I decided to archive the old ones and repost them again. So yeah, if you've read them before great, give it another read, my writing is much better now I promise and if you're new welcome, I hope you like this mini series.

(You are here, part 2, part 3)

Dylan stood by the side of the large field, near the home plate, occasionally yelling out suggestions and pointing out mistakes to the young boys.

"Ezra! You have to watch the ball! C'mon! I know you can do better!" He called out to the blonde boy standing on the home plate with a bat in hand. Dylan then turned his attention to the dark haired boy with the baseball mitt and ball in hand.

"Roman! What's going on, buddy? You gotta focus, alright? You gotta work on that throw!" Dylan called out to the young boy, who half nodded and sighed heavily in response.

Not long after, Dylan signaled the young boys scattered throughout the large field to gather around. He spoke some encouraging words to the boys before allowing them to disperse and gather their equipment which meant practice was over.

Your son, however, stayed behind for a minute. There was an inaudible conversation happening between Dylan and your ten year-old, Roman. You watched from the bleachers as your son made some tired gestures at his coach followed by a small pat on the back from Dylan. You couldn't help but follow them with your eyes as they made their way to the bleachers, your eyes lingering a bit too long on the brown haired coach. An action that wasn't taken lightly by the female sitting beside you.

"You're staring at him again." Your best friend, Ezra's mother, Eliza -or just Liz, commented.

"I'm not." You muttered out quickly, tearing your eyes away from the handsome coach, your mouth hanging open for a couple of seconds. "I wasn't staring." You stated matter of factly and shrugged as you looked down at the small six year-old sitting on your lap, making sure she wasn't paying attention to the conversation.

"Really? The drool coming from your mouth says otherwise." Liz playfully ran her finger across your chin, pretending to wipe away at it. You slightly glared at her, an eye roll going her way.

"I'm not drooling. I wasn't even staring." You tried to defend yourself, making a small sassy gesture to her.

"Hey, I don't blame you. If I wasn't married," she took a pause as she eyed Dylan as he removed his baseball hat to run a hand through his messy chocolate locks, you couldn't help but stare as well. "I'd jump on his bones any day."

"Hey, there's young ears present." You said quietly to Liz as not to disturb the young girl in your arms.

Despite your attempt not to, you couldn't help but allow your eyes to fall once again on the field, following the handsome male that was the topic of your conversation. You had to hide the infatuated sigh that left your lips at the sight of your son's coach running around the field, talking to the kids and picking up equipment.

"Well he is handsome, I'll give him that.." You admitted quietly, "and he's really good with the kids."

Your friend smirked slightly at your words and wiggled her eyebrows at you.

"I bet that's not the only thing he's really good at." She eyed you suggestively and slightly nudged at you with her shoulder, "You should find out what other things he's good at."

Your mouth instantly fell open and your eyes widened at the insinuation.

"Eliza! Oh, my god. Don't say that." You slightly shook your head to brush off the embarrassment and hid your face on your hands to cover the crimson on your skin.

"Mommy you're warm!" Athena, your six year-old giggled as she grabbed your warm, sweaty hands. Even your daughter noticed the nervousness that crept up on you when it came to Dylan, even if it was just the topic of him. Truth was, you had been shamelessly crushing on your son's baseball coach ever since he joined the team a couple of months ago.

Get it together, you should not be crushing on your son's baseball coach.

"I know baby, it's just hot out here." You tried to brush it off, but the knowing smirk on Liz's face wasn't exactly helping. "Thena, why don't you go get Roman and Ezra? They're over there." You pointed to the field where Roman and Ezra were talking —or more like just Ezra was, to the other kids on the team. She quickly nodded and bolted off the bleachers, somehow not tripping over the steps as she went down. You sighed heavily the moment the young girl was far enough and slightly turned your head in Liz's direction.

"You should totally ask him out." She said out of nowhere with a shrug and a smirk on her face. Your eyes widened for the hundredth time, and you instantly shook your head frantically, the idea alone giving you a headache.

"Ask Dylan out? No way. I.. No.. That's just.. No." Your cheeks slightly heat up at the preposition. But you quickly turned it down with a vigorous shake of your head, not even giving the idea a minute to sink into your brain. "No, he's Roman's coach. It's just wrong."

"Why? I mean, you're single, and as far as I know, he's very single. Soo," she dragged the 'o' as she wiggled her eyebrows and she nudged your shoulder, pushing you over a little in a high school girl manner, "Why not get ready to mingle with the hot coach?"

"First of all, I'm technically not single, not yet." You groaned with an eyeroll. As much as you and your husband —or ex-husband or whatever were no longer living together, the divorce process had been unnecessarily long and dreadful. So as much as you wanted to be legally single, you were still married to that piece of shit.

"And second of all, if I were to date someone, which is a big if, I can't date Roman's coach out of all people. He already has enough as it is. It'll just confuse him and probably upset him more." You sighed heavily as you looked over to the side of the field, where all the boys were having a conversation about elementary boys' things. And there you saw your son, trying, and ultimately failing at joining said conversations. And with little Athena tugging at his side, all he got from the other kids was laughing and rejection.

Seeing your son's sad and hurt expression when the other boys laughed at him or even told him to go away broke your heart. You wanted him to be happy again. You wanted him to be the energetic and loving kid he was before your waste of a husband left. Ever since Ryan —your waste of a husband left, Roman hasn't been the same.

For the past six or so months, he has been distant and seemingly unhappy. All he ever did was lock himself up in his room and play video games. He barely ever interacted with you and Athena anymore. He barely interacted with anyone, period. Once Ryan left, it was up to you to support your kids financially. Of course, their father still paid child support, but he sure as hell didn't pay your bills or everything you needed to spend on your children. Which meant you had to take him out of the fancy school he went to in order to still pay the monthly expenses of your home. And he just didn't quite fit in at school, especially now.

So, you hoped that him joining the baseball team would change that, that it would help him open up again and that it would help him make new friends. But so far, it's worked just the opposite.

"So, I'm making dinner tonight. Do you want to come over with the kids and get drunk? Luke will watch over the kids." Liz spoke, interrupting your train of thought.

"That sounds a-mazing," you spoke in a song-like tune, a sigh of contentment leaving your lips. "But I can't. I told Roman I'd take him to that Italian place he likes."

"Tomorrow then. I'll have that Chardonnay you love so much waiting for you." She winked at you as you both stood up, ready to greet your children.

"Thank God for your alcohol stash." You joked, flinging your arms up in praise.

You both laughed and smiled in your children's direction, but your smile dropped as your kids and Ezra approached you. Ezra was holding Athena's hand, while Roman walked behind them, with a certain heaviness on his step and an annoyed look on his face. And Athena had a small pout on her face.

"Hey, what's wrong?"

"Rome doesn't want to hold my hand!" Athena whined with a pout of her lower lip. She released Ezra's hand and exchanged it for your own. Ezra going to his own mom. While Roman simply stood there, with a hand stuffed into his pockets and the other messing with the strap of his bag, his gaze stuck on the ground.

"Roman, baby," you sighed softly, not wanting to give the poor kid a hard time. You understood he didn't exactly fit in, no matter how much he wanted to, and that upset him. You didn't want to add up to that. "Your sister just wanted you to hold her hand."

"She was embarrassing me.. I'm already the kid without a dad, I don't need to be the kid with an annoying baby sister." He muttered, his gaze not once leaving the ground.

His words were harsh, but lacked emotion. And it broke your heart. But as much as you wanted to tell him that it wasn't true, that he did have a dad, you'd be lying if you did. Ryan was already absent in your children's lives before the split, but at the same time he was there, and Roman felt as if he was. But now, his father really wasn't there, at all. And there was nothing you could do about it.

You sighed softly, gesturing your free hand out for him, "Roman, come here," a heavy sigh left the young boy's lips as he took a few steps closer, standing in front of you with his head hanging low and his eyes stuck to the ground. You used your hand to hold the side of his face, his eyes meeting with your own. "Baby, Thena just wanted to show you that she loves you. She didn't mean to embarrass you, right Thena?" You turned your attention to the small girl that hid behind your arm, her eyes glistening with tears.

The small girl sniffled and shook her head, "No.. I'm sorry Rome.. I won't do it ever again, I-I promise."

You exchanged looks between your children, your eyes finally landing on Roman as you waited for a response. You raised an eyebrow at him, your eyes speaking a silent 'and' to the boy. He eventually signed, almost too heavily, and nodded.

"It's okay, I guess.. I don't really mind all that much." He half smiled, shrugging slightly.

Athena's expression quickly lightened, the small girl detached herself from your hand and hugged her older brother. And as much as he hated to admit it, he didn't mind the affection. He returned the hug and smiled, for a moment at least.

After a second or two, Roman slightly pushed Athena off him, signaling that that had been enough affection for a day. You breathed out softly, turning to look at Liz, who gave you a sympathetic smile in response.

"Well my loves, off we go. Say goodbye to Auntie Liz and Ezra." Both your children did as you said. Athena hugging both of them, and Roman simply waving at them. Good enough.

And at last, you gave Liz a quick but tight hug, "I'll call you tomorrow." You said shortly before you grabbed a hold of your daughter's hand and your son's bag, and eventually parted ways.

Today was gonna be a long day.

《Here's an edited version of part 1. As always I hope y'all enjoyed it. I'm trying to get back into writing after a long year, hopefully this will help me get back on track. Let me know your thoughts. And let me know if you'd like to be added to my dylan/coach taglist which I do have》

#dylanobrien #dylan o brien #dylan obrien imagine #dylan obrien smut #dylan obrien fanfic #dylan obrien x reader #dylan obrien series #coach #coach series

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ackermanshoe · 3 years

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Just a few things to talk about here: lengthy 😩

Levi being a 2 in teamwork meaning he never had chemistry while fighting alongside others, like ever. But then mikasa happened. As if isayama spelled it out for us that Levi and mikasa’s connection is so special, particularly to Levi, from the beginning. So now you realise that Levi has experiences with mikasa that he has NEVER had before with anyone, ever.

So you have seen this picture before but I’d like to take the time to dig deep into this. It’s from erens point of view and it most likely shows how he remembers these characters to be most of the time. Connie and admin being playful with each other, Sasha laughing at them, floch and marlo talking and hitch (?) just existing there because eren prolly never interacted with her.

Hanji in the background smiling at the group and Erwin giving them a soft smile. However there’s something particular about both Levi and jean isn’t it? Yeah you guessed it, both of them are looking at mikasa’s direction. ( I saw a post where they were trying so hard to refuse the FACT that Levi was looking at mikasa, even though they acknowledged that Jean was. 🤥🤥)

And lastly mikasa softly smiling at eren. You can clearly see Jean being glaring at that and the fact that isayama drew ALL of their eyes so crystal clear EXCEPT both Levi and Jean,,,, gets me. So you’re going to draw faces of people being themselves but what purpose does it serve you to draw both Levi’s and Jean’s( Jean who is a known mikasa simp) face looking at mikasa’s direction but not draw their eyes ( pupils ) clear? Was it forshadowing their mutual feelings towards her? Since “eyes are the window to the soul” and the drawing does not allow for us to get a clear view of their eyes was isayama implying that both Levi and Jean had hid their feelings for her?

Of course jeans face has a certain darkness to it because everybody is aware of his unrequited love and isayama does little to hide that. But notice how both Levi and his faces are tilted in a way. And the most obvious connection to both Jean and Levi are the way Levi is positioned almost in a line behind Jean, which creates a vector line from their eyes leading straight to mikasa.

Let's talk about this shall we? See how by placing the dark haired people on the front and centre has created a salient within this frame? Yeah the rest of the people in there are either blonde or light haired, Isayam placed each character there with a purpose. Now I'm not saying the 4 heads makes it look like a heart shape but that's excatly what I'm SEEING. maybe, just maybe this was a forshadowing of mikasa's choice, since she was placed in the middle of both Levi and Eren. Eren, whose face is not placed on the same level as Mikasa and Levi could possibly represent "dream" or a reality which would be hard for Mikasa to reach, therefore giving a hint of chapter 138 and mikasa's headache AU.

Whereas Levi, despite his height, face is on the same level as mikasa's. A form of equality, sameness, familiarity and most importantly symbolising reality.

Since he isn't hard to reach from where is Mikasa is placed. And lastly Gabi, we have all seen rivamika parental mode kicking in the recent chapters and here Gabi being in between Levi and her could possibly hint their parenthood, an option that will only be available if Mikasa choose reality: Levi. Therefore Gabi representing quiet simply Levi and mikasa's possible kid. Ackerbaby 👶

This panel, I'm dying to talk about this.most important question: is it Levi's tears that's falling?

I have stared at this for houRS, and I still don't have an unbiased answer. Although most would discard this as spit or sweat Levi probably has from yelling, I'm not fully convinced by it. Maybe it's my desparate rivamika mind that's refusing to let it go but how would spit or sweat end up where his bandage is?

On the too right corner we see multiple drops but why would anything but a tear be where you can see that single droplet of water on his bandages? It's literally so suspicious which is why isayama makes me mad, he teases so much and so subtly. He doesn't show Levi's eyes there, he could have, to emphasize on Levi's level of worry which could have been more effective when reading his expression and yet isayama chose to show his widened mouth to showcase Levi's anxiety.

I'm still debating on this however there's no mistaking it that Levi cares for Mikasa more than anyone.

Which brings me to this:

The similarities that I can not call parallels just yet, between erehisu and rivamika is really comforting as cruel it maybe to mikasa and historia. Levi is willing to have historia eat the beast titan without remorse, without thinking. Where as eren as we all know will do anything but sacrifice historia. Yes, anything. Even if it means putting mikasa ( and admin) on the boat as everyone else and letting them do whatever they want. In a way both of them are treating both mikasa and historia the same way.

Note Levi’s eyes while talking about historia almost looks psychotic which is unlike Levi and his eyes while looking at mikasa.

Eren who is pressed down to one single choice which might risk mikasa’s life but he won’t sacrifices historia. Protecting her.

Levi who decides to help mikasa has made a choice without any regret, relying on her.

And as for their respective person, both eren and Levi’s gesture and behaviour changes when they are around them. As eren said historia is the girl who saved him and the same way mikasa is the who may bring meaning into Levi’s life. I feel like these two couple has always developed together, take s3 aka rivamika season 🥵

The same way rivamika found trust and a way to bond, so did eren and historia. In their own way they. It’s funny because both of their development are so weirdly ignored by the aot general fandom, gee I wonder why 😒 anyway through these similarities or whatever you may call it you can really see who they each really care for and value over the other.

Lastly

LMAO idk how much people considers pieck and Porco canon as potential lovers but this shot of porco really reminded me of Levi’s jealous look. Not to mention pieck resembled mikasa with that ponytail

Although I support jeanpiku I always had this feeling that porco and pieck might have been shipped together and they are, in this scene ( I haven’t watched the ep) I ASSUME porco is looking at her this way because of these men around looking at her and blushing, well it does resemble another grumpy old man. Anyway I’ll never shut up about that scene with both historia and Levi looking at their partners, jealous and shit 💆‍♀️💅💅💅

Okay I’m done talking for now, thank you again for reading as always idk what this post was tbh I didn’t have it planned at all I just really wanted to talk about these that’s been on mind to spark new conversations about them.

I just wanna say I wish i was part of this fandom sooner, not only does this fandom has the best theorists but also such amazing people. I hope our shitposting and analysis of rivamika will not end with chapter 139. Rivamika will always make me happy and this place will always feel like home, thank you for creating this community 😭💜💜💜💜

#rivamika #levimika #rivamikacanon #rivamika analysis #isayama please #ackerbaby

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asscandles · 4 years

Note

Hello !!! I really liked ur writing (also the fandoms you do are chef's kiss) and i wanted to request for Mondo, Togami and Fuyuhiko (separately of course) with a very touchy (short 👀 I'm like 5'0") reader, who likes to squish their cheeks, hug them and give lil smoochies, sit or have the boys sit on her lap and other stuff like that? (It'd be cute if it were a mutual crush situation but I don't mind platonic either) Thank you sm in advance if you write it !!

ᴛʜᴀɴᴋ ʏᴏᴜ ꜱᴏ ᴍᴜᴄʜ!! ᴛʜɪꜱ ᴡᴀꜱ ᴀ ʀᴇᴀʟʟʏ ᴄᴜᴛᴇ ʀᴇQᴜᴇꜱᴛ ᴀɴᴅ ɪ ᴇɴᴊᴏʏᴇᴅ ᴡʀɪᴛɪɴɢ ɪᴛ. ɪ ʜᴏᴘᴇ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ɪᴛ ʟɪᴠᴇꜱ ᴜᴘ ᴛᴏ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴇxᴘᴇᴄᴛᴀᴛɪᴏɴꜱ!

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: ʟᴀɴɢᴜᴀɢᴇ + ꜱᴜɢɢᴇꜱᴛɪᴠᴇ

Mondo Owada

Honestly, he never thought he would ever be in this position.

Him? The Ultimate Biker Gang Leader? Receiving a constant supply of affection?

Ridiculous. Improbable. Impossible.

Oh, but don’t get me wrong. It’s not like he doesn’t enjoy the attention. But after he accidentally shouted at you in embarrassment when you complimented his eyes, reflexively crushed a pencil and consequently showered you with the splintered wood when you ambushed him with a hug, and fled from the premises after you innocuously offered to massage his shoulders… the idea of you sticking around in his life seemed unfeasible.

But here you are.

It doesn’t take him long to grow accustomed to the attentiveness and devotion you always treat him with.

“So, we should close off this area and tighten our control around this neighborhood. Oh, and maybe--”

“Uh, sir? What’s… um… What’s..?” One of his men tentatively pointed to where you were clinging to Mondo’s back, legs constricted around his waist and arms looped around his neck, blinking blankly at the man standing before you.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Mondo didn’t even flinch. “Anyway, as I was saying--”

Mondo really doesn’t mind when you cling to him in public. In fact, he appreciates the warmth of your body and the unexpected sense of security that holding your hand gives him.

But, he starts to draw the line when you stand in front of him while he’s sitting, smiling sweetly as you squish his cheeks and giggle about how adorable he is. He always flushes a florid shade and averts his eyes from yours. He would never tell you, but whenever you do that, he feels so defenseless, something that the rest of his crew should never know about.

That’s why he tells you to keep such intimate actions private. When you two are alone, you can squish his cheeks and pepper his face with kisses as often as you want. You understand this, and you’re always ecstatic whenever you walk in on him somewhere he’s alone.

You’re so short he loves it omg.

He thinks that watching you struggle to reach his face with your lips is so funny. He will often poke fun at you by either pretending to not see you or lifting his chin even higher. When you finally give up and try to storm away with a huff, he captures you in his arms and lifts you off the ground while you grumble indignantly.

Okay, but when you press yourself against him and wrap yourself in the loose fabric of his jacket so that it covers both of you? BITCHHH he melts.

Due to your short stature, you often find yourself seated upon his shoulders. At first, Mondo was taunted by his friends for quote-on-quote “having his head buried between your thighs,” but Mondo easily dismissed their teasing. He knew that your intentions were nothing less than pure…

Even if he initially was nervous and sweaty at the idea of being so… so close to you.

Mondo always treated you as if you were made of glass. Since you’re so small and he’s so muscular and tall, he always feared that a single bump or scratch would absolutely eviscerate your bones and pulverize your internal organs. For a while, he had been worried that he would forget about his own strength and accidentally hurt you. So, it did take him a little longer to reciprocate your affectionate.

That being said, he nearly flipped his shit when you nonchalantly asked him to try sitting in your lap. His brain was pumping out ideas at ninety miles an hour, but his lips could only communicate half of them, leaving him stuttering and nearly choking on his saliva. He was certain that he would crush your body beyond recognition if he tried.

No way. No. No. Absolutely not.

He’s cool with having you seated on his lap, though. In fact, he even encourages it. Having such a stunning gem to show off to his men during meetings stokes the flames of confidence within him, often resulting in a shit-eating grin and a protective hand on your shoulder or around your waist.

You get unlimited access to Mondo with his hair down, you lucky bitch.

You’re absolutely bewitched with how soft his hair is as it slips through your fingers like rivulets of water, the opposite of how it feels when it’s gelled into his usual hairstyle. You spend a lot of time combing your fingers through his hair and lightly scratching his scalp. Mondo finds it extremely relaxing, and he often comes to you whenever he has a headache or needs an extra push that will lull him to sleep.

Byakuya Togami

Before you appeared in his life, he had never been subjected to genuine love and sentiment. In his world, it was either surpass or be surpassed. Mercy was not an option, and competition was all he knew. As a result, he views everyone around him as inferior and lesser creatures.

When you first started to show kindness to him, he thought that you were merely pitying him because he spent so much time by himself. This led to him holding you at an icy distance and shooting scathing remarks in your direction.

However, you were steadfast in your determination to make Byakuya a part of your life. It took some time, but soon enough, you had earned a place in his heart.

He wished that he didn’t know how it was possible for you to have become such an essential part of his life, but he did. No matter how many times he told you that you were annoying, a distraction, or disgusting, it was clear that you were absolutely unaffected by it. You knew that his dislike of you wasn’t personal. Your tenacity is what caused his harsh words to dissipate in his throat and him to surrender to the prospect of developing a relationship with you.

You were strong, and he understood that now.

It definitely takes him a long time to accept your clingy nature, and even then, he sometimes feels suffocated by the surplus of affection.

It doesn’t mean that he completely brushes you off. It just means that you have to be more sparing with your ministrations.

He sees nothing wrong with allowing you a quick hug or to hold his hand in public. If anyone says anything about it, he will deadass act like nothing is happening. He knows that if he acknowledges it, the chances of him becoming openly flustered will skyrocket.

He would never be able to live it down.

Anything else you would like to do to him, he prefers to keep it private.

Wow, that sounds suggestive.

Whatever, let’s proceed.

He’ll gripe and complain about you being heavy, but he never pushes you off or directly tells you to get off when you burrow your way beneath his arm and curl into his side while he reads. He’ll just sigh and settle his arm around you with the tiniest, most discreet smile.

He can’t help but chuckle to himself when you remove his glasses so that you can wear them instead. His chuckle flourishes into a genuine laugh when you promptly yank them off, your stomach churning in protest of your warped vision.

When you hold his hand in private, you pay a lot of attention to his fingers. You toy with them, marveling at how strong they are despite their slender appearance.

So, kisses are a thing.

“What was that?”

“Uh, a kiss.”

“Revolting… Do it again.”

A common thing, actually.

You plant kisses everywhere that you can: his fingertips, his cheeks, his shoulders, the back of his hand, his nose. He never fails to blush red as a rose, often pulling away and pressing the back of his hand to his mouth.

If you want him to complain in mock disgust, press a sloppy, prolonged kiss right in the center of his forehead.

If you want him to squirm, brush the softest kiss you can manage to either his collarbone or the shell of his ear. Biiiitchhhh…

ANYWAY, THAT’S NOT THE POINT--

Surprise, surprise. He loves poking fun at your height. How shocking. How absolutely unbelievable.

Like Mondo, he finds amusement in watching you balance on your tiptoes as you try to kiss him. You, however, combat his devious snickering by seizing his crossover tie and yanking him down to your height, catching him off guard. Then, all he can do is inwardly grumble about his blunder while you press a kiss to the corner of his lips

He once actually sat on you to trap you after you tried (and failed) to tickle him. He wasn’t expecting you to laugh gleefully and wrap your arms around his waist to anchor him to you. Since you were enjoying what he deemed a punishment, it was no longer pleasurable for him. He finds it embarrassing to voluntarily sit on anyone’s lap--let alone the lap of someone remarkably smaller than him. He sees it as a role of submission. Need I explain more?

He won’t complain if you sit on his, though. Well, I lied. This bitch complains about everything. It’s more like… he won’t reject you if you end up on his lap.

But about a half hour into whatever the hell this “cuddling” thing is, Byakuya discovers that the combination of your weight and body heat is an interesting catalyst for the onslaught of fatigue that he’s been procrastinating for the longest time.

You happen to doze off first. But upon awakening, you notice that Byakuya’s head is resting against yours, his arms loosely wrapped around your waist. His book is closed beside him.

Ngl, you thought he was actually going to rock your shit the first time you squished his cheeks. His frosty glare was enough to make you draw back in shock, but it soon disappeared, accompanied by a sigh from him.

“You have one more opportunity to do that. Don’t waste it.”

Oh, you definitely don’t.

Fuyuhiko Kuzuryu

Someone is???? Smaller than him???

!!!!

That one inch of height makes him feel so powerful omfg.

Because of his job, he would rather keep any kind of affection hidden behind closed doors. The only people who he would let PDA slide around are those in his immediate circle, like his family, Peko, and whoever else serves directly under him.

He just wants to keep you safe, and he feels that the best way to do that is to not make it known that he has a soft spot for you.

You smile at the way his aloof, callous demeanor switches to a gentler, more amicable one when he sees you waiting for him to finish whatever job he’s been tasked with. His perpetual scowl melts away, the wrinkles of irritation blemishing his forehead smooth, and his distrusting, narrowed eyes round with an almost childlike, innocent delight.

You enjoy the latter side of him so much that it isn’t uncommon for you to cling to his waist and drop like dead weight, forcing him to drag you with him across the floor if he wants to return to work.

“Hiko… You can’t leave..!” You whine. “I’ll miss you..!”

“I’m sorry…” He huffs, taking another step while you’re dragged behind him like some ragdoll. “But I have things I need to take care of!”

You eventually sink into a heap on the floor when he reaches the door, making a half-hearted attempt to hold on to his ankles.

He chuckles and squats down in front of you. “I’ll be back later.” You sit up and sharply turn your head away with a pout. He gently yet firmly seizes your chin between his thumb and forefinger, directing you to look at him. “Promise.” His eyes are gentle, but you know he’s serious. You reluctantly release him.

“Okay,” you mumble. “Please, be safe.”

You know the, “When I was your age…” thing?

Yeah, Fuyuhiko does that shit. But, he does, “When I was your height…” instead.

A fucki.ng pO w e R trip.

He really likes the feeling of having you on his lap. It makes him feel like he’s actually capable of offering security to someone. Bonus points if you straddle his lap and hug him close in return, resting your chin on his shoulder.

Back-hugs? Back-hugs.

The first time you snuck up on him and embraced him from behind, he almost knocked you tf out. But over time, he’s gotten used to it. That doesn’t mean you don’t manage to catch him off guard from time to time. Feeling him jolt and hearing him yelp in shock when you wrap your arms around his waist never fails to make you laugh. One time, you laughed so hard that your legs gave out and you tumbled to the ground, accidentally dragging him with you.

Whenever he’s stressed, kisses always seem to be the cure. Sprinkled across his cheeks, tracing the edge of his jaw, following the shell of his ear, pressed to his fingertips--you name it. Whatever you have to offer, he’s more than happy to let you have your way and shower him with love.

You pay special attention to his freckles. Whenever he’s had a taxing day, you vow to kiss each and every freckle on his face. When you’re lulling him to sleep with his head in your lap, you smooth a feather-light fingertip over his cheeks, playing connect-the-dots with his freckles.

But there are just some days where he needs to be the baby, y’know? On those days, he likes laying with his face pressed into your stomach and his body curled into your embrace. You watch over him lovingly, tracing the designs shaved into his hair with a curious finger and slowly massaging his scalp.

He needs reassurance every now and then, verbal or otherwise. You are always more than willing to oblige, filling whatever role he needs at the moment.

He always takes necessary precautions, such as locking the doors and drawing the curtains, before he allows himself to strip his soul bare and lay all of his impurities before you. This is a side of him that no one else must know about. Otherwise, his reputation would take a massive blow.

Speaking of “baby,” it’s no secret that Fuyuhiko positively despises his baby face. You, however, adore it. You like to squish his cheeks and coo about how cute he is. He never resists you, and will even play along by puckering his lips at you if he’s in a good mood. It doesn’t change the fact that he doesn’t like his face, but if you seem to be fond of it, then maybe it’s not all that bad.

But if anyone else even thinks about touching him in such a manner, then that’s it.

Their ass is grass.

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last-of-the-lot · 3 years

Text

To paraphrase what I said in a chat while screaming at a friend of mine about lore, I really like the idea of the Dream SMP going into season four with some set lines.

Quackity is semi-set in what he is doing, he has the drive and is willing to do a lot to keep himself happy. He is motivated, and he has hope. No matter the lessons that he taught, he still had a connection in the end.

And it made him better.

So we have a new villain in the game, two nations that kind of do not like each other, nukes missing, memories fading, and a whole host of problems that come with people being brought back from the dead.

If we go by the assumption that Techno is kicking off the next season tomorrow, (ignore what his stream says, YES I know what it says but let me have this) then we know what our starting problem is. Prison.

We the audience know that dream is still there, the characters, (barring Sam) don't. I can't predict what is going to happen, but if he escapes for real, I am really hoping for Dream actually takes time to get better.

I am not going to take sides on the issue of Dream as a character, because all that will get me is a headache, but storytelling is boring if everything is clear-cut. Villains aren't always some faraway thing that you can distance yourself from, sometimes they are human. Humans are the villains in a lot of our stories, and as such, they have human characteristics. A good story warns the audience of what they are getting into and the viewer decides if they want to watch it. If he escapes, I want Dream to get some rest, and deal with the problem that was however long prison time was because SMP time is weird and no one has ever standardized it.

This lets two things happen. One, Dream isn't the main problem, and maybe it develops him a bit more. Two, it allows Purpled to go on his Girboss Arc.

Purpled can be a GREAT villain, and given the space to do so, I think he can pull a different vibe to what dream has given us. It will flesh out a new character, and give everyone more to work with. I also hope that this leads to people leaning into the supernatural a bit more. So much can be done with the mode of story that they are in, and that can lead to so many ideas.

It is more Fanon than Canon that Purpled is an alien, but the CC's have a habit of leaning into things that the fandom at large does. (The white streak in the hair after death and revival, Q's scar and eye, Tubbo's horns and burns, etc.) The entire idea of death is something that no CC has touched, and I would love to see someone dive into that beyond some ancient history that we haven't seen in a while. What are the outreaches of the land they have a claim to? What is going on with the egg? Is it dead? Are there other problems? What is with Boomer and Sam? I know there are things going on there that are weird. What the FUCK is going on with Serenity???? That just screams "I am going to keep your soul trapped here forever." Foolish is recruiting people to serve a god! I want to know where that is going! There are so many things that can lead to something bigger.

Later down the line could see a return to nations butting heads, and problems with rogue players in the game. Their stage is a block game, they can pull so many weird things and still make it work. The idea of stable places for characters to go is a new one, and I love the idea that there are now places for people to go and forget their problems. Goodness knows that they are all bad at talking out their problems.

Season three was long as hell, but it was a good one. It had twists and turns and even has loose ends, the best kind of thing for a continuous story like what they are doing. I can't wait to see where they take it all.

To Season four and everything that it brings along with it!

#dream smp #dsmp #mcyt #quackity

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emachinescat · 3 years

Text

Title: Of Concussions and Incorrigible Cons | Fandom: Psych

Summary: AU of the pilot episode. After being reprimanded by the interim chief, Head Detective Carlton Lassiter bites off more than he can possibly chew after attempting to apologize to a concussed Spencer for the less than gentle arrest at the end of the McCallum case. Spoilers for "Domestic Pilot." Part 1 of my whumpy episodic AU series, "AU that Glitters."

Words: 1,951

TW: None

AO3 Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Humor, Episode AU: s01e01: Domestic Pilot, Whump

Year Published: 2017

Full story here or on AO3!

Head Detective Carlton Lassiter stood in front of the interim chief's door, fist poised to knock and foot tapping an anxious rhythm on the floor. Vick had been rather short with him when she'd asked him to come to her office as soon as the paperwork for the McCallum case had been taken care of. It wasn't the "I'm busy, so make it quick" kind of short, either… she was agitated about something.

Taking a deep breath, he knocked.

Her voice rang out from inside, dead serious as could be. Yeah, she was pissed about something.

He entered, and opted for the ignorant approach, which was just as well, because he really had no idea what this was about. After all, he'd already been given a stern-talking to about inter-department romance and Lucinda was in the process of being transferred. A little swell of fury rose at the thought of the man – the so-called "psychic" who had so carelessly ruined one of the only positive things he had going for him.

"Detective Lassiter. Please sit."

He sat stiffly in the proffered chair, refusing to let the cushy trappings lull him into a false sense of security. He maintained eye contact with the chief, letting her know that he was completely comfortable in the situation that he found himself in, and that he had nothing to hide. Never mind the fact that he wasn't all that comfortable with the cloak and dagger business, being left in the dark about why he was here in the first place. "Chief. What can I do for you?"

Vick's eyes may have softened the tiniest bit at his cordial greeting, but she still did not look like a happy camper.

"I'm going to be honest with you, Detective," she said bluntly. "This could have turned out much worse. As it is, I am going to have to give you an informal reprimand and warn you to be very careful in the future."

Lassiter blinked. "Uh, Chief… What…?"

"Detective, you cannot be physically aggressive toward civilians who are in your custody, unless they are resisting arrest or are posing a threat to you or others around you."

Still trying to work through the confusion, Lassiter was both offended and relieved that there had been a mistake like this, that Vick actually thought that he'd attack a non-resisting civilian. Whatever she'd heard, it was all a big mix up. "Chief, let me assure you that I would never—"

"Shawn Spencer. McCallum residence. Yesterday afternoon. Ring any bells?"

Lassiter blanched. "Spencer hardly counts as a civilian. He's a hindrance to real police work, a distraction, and at the time, he was trespassing. I had to take him in." He left the bitter, At least, until he solved my damn case, left unspoken.

"Be that as it may, Detective, your shoving him head-first into the frame of the car was a bit overboard, don't you think?"

Wait, this was what this was about? Seriously?

"He was resisting arrest, Chief. He was… flailing and pretending to have 'visions' and acting like a crazy person!"

A delicate but ferocious eyebrow lifted. "Not when you shoved him into the car. And may I remind you, he did solve the case?"

"Did he tell you this? That little…"

"Detective!" the chief cut him off before he could say anything to get himself into any more trouble, which, although he didn't appreciate at the time, he was begrudgingly thankful for after the fact. "Mr. Spencer didn't tell me anything. I was there, remember? I saw the whole thing… whatever it was."

Oh. Right. Damn that Spencer for getting into his head like this!

"He's fine, Chief," Lassiter responded, much more calmly this time. "Don't let him take advantage of you. This country is crawling with people faking injuries just to get a few thousand dollars from a lawsuit."

"I told you, Mr. Spencer said nothing to me. His father, on the other hand, called me this morning in a rage. Thankfully, I was able to calm him down and help him to see reason, but it wasn't easy."

"So he went and told his daddy that he got a boo-boo at the crime scene?" Lassiter couldn't keep the disgusted contempt out of his voice this time. "I thought they hated each other, anyway?"

"They have a… complicated relationship, and it really isn't our place to bring that under speculation. However…" She sighed. "It is my job to make sure that my officers are not allowing their emotions or anger, no matter how warranted said anger might be, to get the better of them. Especially after what Henry told me this morning. Apparently, Mr. Guster had to take Shawn to the emergency room last night after his headache peaked and he lost consciousness briefly. Mr. Spencer is being treated for a concussion, Detective, and that is why we're having this talk."

"Oh." Lassiter wasn't sure what to say beyond that, but he slapped away the little niggle of guilt that tried to burrow into him at the news. He hadn't meant to hurt Spencer, certainly not that badly. The man was being difficult, had lost Lassiter his girlfriend, his respect… had mocked him by acting like an idiot and still managing to solve the case first…

"Shawn himself is not going to press charges or file a report, though I was obligated to contact him about the matter. He said – and these are his words – that 'Mr. Grumpy Detective-Face is emotionally stunted and is just trying to express how much he likes me in the only way he knows how.'" Vick looked marginally amused as she read Spencer's response off the sheet in front of her. A muscle in Lassiter's neck twitched. "Now, those exact words could be because of the concussion…"

Lassiter fought the urge to roll his eyes. "They're not, Chief. Trust me."

Now appearing to be fighting a smile, the chief said, "Consider this your unofficial reprimand and warning to control your irritation when you are faced with a particularly difficult witness… or consultant. Because once he is feeling better, I do believe the department will be calling on Mr. Spencer again."

This time, Lassiter couldn't stop the eye roll. Or the groan. Vick smiled. "You're dismissed, Detective."

"Yes, ma—uh, I mean, Chief."

***

Shawn was woken when the doorbell rang, the sound slicing through his aching head like a butter knife through steak... or however that saying went. Without bothering to get up from where he was sprawled on the couch, he called out, "It's open."

Damn, concussions sucked. It was bad enough that Gus had practically dragged him to the hospital after he'd had some sort of dizzy spell last night, but then he'd called his dad to boot? Was this now Gus with his mom for additional parental torture? Not that he would mind seeing his mom… but he was so over worried hovering. Gus played the part of a worried mother exceptionally well, and Shawn couldn't handle two of them… Which was made irrelevant when the door opened to reveal not his mother, but…

"Detective Lassiter?"

Lassiter stepped into Shawn's apartment, keen blue eyes taking the coffee table littered with empty pudding cups, icepacks, water bottles, and prescription bottles. "You just leave your front door unlocked for anyone to come waltzing in? You're just begging to be robbed." Upon taking another look around at the untidy living space, his lip curled and he added, "Or maybe not."

Shawn struggled to sit up past the monkey playing cymbals in his head. "Your contempt for my apartment aside, what are you doing here?"

The detective hesitated. "I was just in the neighborhood and I…" Shawn watched knowingly as the detective's gaze shifted to the rather impressive bruise on his head.

"You wanted to check on me? Oh, Detective, you shouldn't have!"

"I didn't," growled Lassiter. He paused. "This was a mistake. I'll just—"

"Wait!" Shawn shifted, patting the sofa seat beside him. "Come in. Sit down. Rest your rumpus. Put your feet up. Slow your roll. Chillax your—"

With an irritated grunt, the detective passed the threshold and sat in the chair farthest away from Shawn. "Look. I didn't exactly… yesterday, when I…"

"I know, I know. You were just expressing your love for me in the only way you know how, like that little boy in school who pulls the little girl's pigtails because he thinks she's cute."

"Absolutely not."

"Okay, you got me—" Shawn winced as a particularly painful wave shot through his poor, abused noggin. "I was that kid in school. Her name was Melinda, and she had the cutest, bounciest set of—"

"Dear Lord, please stop talking."

"I was going to say pigtails, dude. Mind. Gutter. Get it out."

"This is a monumental waste of my time," the detective spat, standing up so abruptly it almost gave Shawn vertigo… Or wait, he might have already had vertigo, wasn't that a concussion symptom ? And what was vertigo, anyway? Besides an Alfred Hitchcock flick?

Past the pounding in his skull, Shawn heard footsteps stomping away, toward the door. Despite the telltale ringing in his ears, Shawn scrabbled to his feet, ignoring the dark spots dancing wildly in front of his eyes. His pulse hammered, his breath felt short and stunted, and the dizziness spiked. He knew what was going to happen seconds before it did. He was unconscious before he hit the floor.

***

When the world swam back into focus, Shawn was surprised to find that he was back on the couch, not in a heap on the floor. He noticed blearily that his hands tingled like he'd been sitting on them for a couple of weeks, and his ears were still ringing like a high school band had paraded between them and accidentally left the triangle player behind. With a groan against the horrible pounding that had overtaken his skull – the procession of drummers must've gotten left behind, too – he rolled over to see Head Detective Carlton Lassiter kneeling next to the couch.

"You passed out," the detective stated helpfully.

"I did not," Shawn argued, mostly out of obligatory need to irritate whoever was in his general vicinity. "I fell asleep, suddenly and quickly, in a very manly and not wimpy way."

"Sure you did. Just be glad I got to you before you hit the ground. You would have a matching bruise on the other side of your head."

Shawn feigned shock. "So you dashed to my side, caught me before I hit the ground, gently placed me on the sofa, and lingered over my prone body until you knew I wasn't on death's door? Detective, I'm touched."

Lassiter half-sneered, half-smirked. "You were only out for a handful of seconds. I was hoping you'd stay out of it long enough for me to escape, but of course you had to ruin that plan, too."

Shawn winced, only partly out of pain. "Look, man, I'm sorry about your girlfriend. I just—"

The detective stood hastily, popping up from the ground like a Jack-in-the-Box with a strong Irish hairline and lots of pent-up aggression. "We don't talk about that. Ever."

Shawn lifted both hands up in mock surrender. Lassiter's face softened, just the tiniest, miniscule bit. "You're okay, though? Do I need to call your father or someone—?"

"No! I would rather you leave me here to die."

Lassiter shrugged. "Works for me." He strode for the door.

Shawn hesitated, licked his lips, and then offered, "Detective? Thanks."

"Just take it easy," the detective advised.

It was as close to an apology as Shawn was going to get, and, though Shawn might not have shown it through his next words, he did in fact appreciate it.

"Lassie," Shawn said, testing out the new nickname he'd been considering since he'd met the detective. He watched with glee as the man bristled in agitation.

"What?" the detective ground out through gritted teeth.

"I think this is the start of a beautiful friendship."

The head detective had fled the apartment and slammed the door before Shawn could blink. Shawn settled back into the couch cushions and tried to will his head to stop raging against him. Or at least a plain but not drop-dead-ugly working tolerance, he amended in his head, before he drifted off to sleep.

#psych #shawn spencer #carlton lassiter #karen vick #fanfiction #fic rec #psych fanfic #episode au #friendship sort of #hurt/comfort #also sort of #usa psych #emcatwrites

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alexhogh7137 · 4 years

Text

The Battle Between Love and Fire-

Ivar the Boneless × Reader

Chapter Fourteen: Weights Lifted

Chapter Thirteen is here...

Word Count 1.8k

Warnings: smut, fluff fluff and more fluff

When you came back inside, Ivar spotted you walking in the opposite direction from which he stood. He didn't understand why, simply because you would always walk to him after not seeing him for a few hours. So this made him feel uneasy. Why isn't his wife coming to see him? He excuses himself from his brother Ubbe and walks to your location. You sit down on the bed and undo the major braids that were giving you a headache. When Ivar comes in, he has a look on his face that you know all too well. He knows that something is bothering you. The thing is with being best friends with your husband, you can never keep your thoughts to yourself because they always know it before you even tell them.

Ivar "What is it? Tell me, my love."

"It is nothing."

Ivar raises his head, "Now I know that you are lying. Y/n..my love, tell me what is the matter."

"Please don't make me, Ivar."

Ivar "Is it that bad?!"

You sigh, "I just don't want to tell you my thoughts as of right now."

Ivar "But you are worrying me. I don't like seeing my wife pout." He sits down next to you and you rest your head on his broad shoulder.

"I do not know how I survived so long without you, Ivar."

Ivar takes you hand in his own, "Neither do I, my sweet. You've made me a better man. A better king to my people. And a better lover."

"I do?"

Ivar "Oh yes. You do not think so?"

"I just didn't know that I had that impact to your life."

Ivar "You are the best thing to ever happen to me, Y/n. I love you."

"You mean so much to me, my love. I love you so much." He pulls your face to his and kisses you softly.

Ivar "Can you please tell me your thoughts? It is destroying me."

You look away from his eyes, and gaze at the floor. You begin to fiddle with your fingers and Ivar grabs them to make you stop. "Y/n..whatever it may be, I will not be mad at you. Just please tell me, I can help."

You try to find an easy way to tell him that you do not want to be shared any longer but it is very hard. You take a deep breath and take your shot.

"I-I just want to be yours, Ivar."

Ivar's eyes start to sparkle, "You mean-"

"Yes. I do not want to be shared any longer. I know that he will have to help me conceive but after that, I do not wish to be his as well as yours. I only want you."

Ivar's lips form into a tiny smile, "I did not expect you to ever say that."

"Why wouldn't you? You thought that I would fall for Hvitserk?"

Ivar "To be honest, I thought of the possibility. But no, I no longer think such a thing. When I first agreed, I did. But on wedding day, those thoughts faded away."

"Oh Ivar...I love you more than anyone else in my life. Never think that I love anyone more than you."

Ivar "What about our child?" He chuckles.

"Well that is the only exception."

Ivar "Can I make another promise to you?"

"If you would like to."

Ivar "When you are with child, you will no longer have to be shared with my brother. It will just be me and you, forever."

"Forever?"

Ivar "Yes. I do not wish to be with anyone else but with you.. forever."

Your heart fills up with pure love and admiration that it could burst. You have never felt so loved before, never felt such a connection with another human being before.

"I love you. I love you with every part of me. You have my heart, Ivar the Boneless."

His tears in his eyes overflow now, he grabs your cheeks and kisses your entire face.

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

A few days go by and Hvitserk has been extra clingy towards you. You don't mind it, you love Hvitserk like a best friend and a brother. But the love you have for Ivar will never be there for Hvitserk. You swore to yourself to never let that happen. Ivar watches you two across the room, as he sits upon his throne and you two are sitting next to your dragon's across the room. As Hvitserk puts his arm around your waist ever so slightly, Ivar digs his hands into the arm rests.

He cannot stop him, however, because you are not yet with child. When you are, then he will stop his brother's actions. Ubbe notices and walks over to his brother.

Ubbe "You see Hvitserk, yes?"

Ivar clears his throat, "Yes."

Ubbe "What are you doing then, hmm? That is your wife-"

Ivar "I know that she is my wife Ubbe. Thank you for reminding me."

Ubbe "Well if that was my wife, I would not allow another man, let alone my own brother put his hands on her."

Ivar "You would not understand Ubbe. Just mind your own business, hmm?"

Ubbe scuffs, "Fine. I just don't want you to get your heart broken, Ivar. You are my brother at the end of the day. And I love you."

Ivar "I love you, Ubbe. I am not mad, it is just complicated. Everything is fine, and my wife loves me."

Ubbe "Good, I am glad to hear that."

…

Hvitserk "Want to go to the bedroom?" You swallow deeply when you hear that come out of his mouth. You fancy Hvitserk, no doubt about that. But there is still a large part of you that feels that it is still very wrong. But you know that you don't really have a choice but to say yes.

"Sure.."

Hvitserk "If you do not want to, we can stay here. There are other days ahead."

"No, I want too." He smirks and picks you up in his arms bridal style and takes you to his room with great haste. Ivar sees this of course and fiddles in his chair. He curses himself because he cannot do those things for his own wife. He hates being a cripple.

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

He tosses you on the bed and kisses you hungrily. You love the way he kisses you, hungrily: always wanting more..but at the same time with such softness. You moan as he touches you and just let the moment take you away. Your climaxes are so strong today that you are both a shaking mess by the end of each round. After Hvitserk is done kissing you as you ride out your high, he rolls off of you and you rest your head on his chest.

"I have to tell you something."

Hvitserk "Of course. You can tell me anything." He said, out of breath.

"We can't continue this after I am with child.."

Hvitserk starts to rub your shoulder, "I know, kitten."

"Y-you do?"

Hvitserk "Yes. I was not going to make you after you are...I know that you belong to my brother. I do not wish to hurt your marriage by continuing this."

Your heart relaxes and it feels like a huge weight it lifted off your shoulders.

"Thank you, Hvitserk."

Hvitserk "No need to thank me, Y/n. When Ivar and I made this pact, we agreed that I would not need to please you for long. The only reason why we even made it a pact is because my brother really wants to be a father one day, and I want that for him as well. I feel like it will bring so much joy into his life."

"Yeah."

Hvitserk "Do not get me wrong, being with you has been amazing. And I would not change a thing. Do I want to continue, yes of course. But I know that it will not for much longer."

"Me too, Hvitserk."

Hvitserk "And after you tell me that you are with child, will be one of the happiest days of my life. Because at the end of the day, this child will be mine. I know that he or she will not know that but we will. And I am grateful that I have you to be the mother of my child."

"Oh Hvitserk.."

Hvitserk "Do not cry. It is the truth. You are an incredible woman, Y/n. Before we all met you, the women that came our ways were nothing like you. I always wished to the gods that I would become a father one day, and have many children. This is not how I expected it to go, but I cannot be mad." He continues to rub small circles on your shoulder blade, "Ivar will be a great father. I know that he will. But do not think that I will not love my child just as much as he does."

You sniff away your tears, "I know that you will. "

Hvitserk rolls you over and rests on his elbow as he looks down at you. He wipes your tears away with his thumb and smiles, "I told you no tears."

You chuckle, "I can't help it. I didn't expect that to be your reaction when I told you that we couldn't much longer."

Hvitserk "What did you think I would do? Be mad?"

"I guess so, yes."

Hvitserk "Well I would never be mad at you, Y/n. You will always have a special place in my heart. I know that you are married to Ivar, and you are his queen. And I will eventually find my person, and she will be my queen. But you will always be in my heart. You will always be the mother of my child, or children until that woman comes along. So do not ever think that I would ever be mad or treat you poorly."

"Okay, thank you." Hvitserk leans down to kiss your lips once more, and then your nose and lastly your forehead.

Hvitserk "I am going to miss your kisses though. That is going to be hard to get over."

"You are probably right but we will get through it together. You are my best friend, Hvitserk..and you mean so very much to me."

Hvitserk "I know, kitten. Come on, let's get cleaned up and join the other's. I can hear them getting all round up."

"There's only one problem.."

Hvitserk "What is it?!" His face went from happy to worried in the matter of seconds.

"I can't walk."

Hvitserk bursts out laughing, "Too many rounds tonight?"

"Possibly."

Hvitserk "I'll carry you, come on." He lifts you both off the bed and walks you to the shower.

"Thank you for everything."

Hvitserk "It is no problem." He even went to the measures of helping you bathe. He does mean a lot to you and he always will. You love Hvitserk, and you are glad that you have him in your life. But at the end of the day, Ivar is your beloved husband and you are his wife. And that is what makes you the happiest woman in the entire world.

@hvitserkmarcosource @ivarsgoddess @a-mess-of-fandoms @youbloodymadgenius @ivarzeitgeist @herestherealproblem @heavenly1927 @saldelys @kaitieskidmore1 @more-stuf-f

#alex hogh andersen #hvitserk #vikings #ivar the god #ivar lothbrok #ubbe lothbrok #marco ilsoe #hvitserk lothbrok #marco ilsø #the battle between love and fire

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starstruck-xavier · 4 years

Note

For the bthb Don't Let Them See You Cry for Moceit

Lavender

tysm for the request! i had fun writing this one, i hope you enjoy <33 another fic for @badthingshappenbingo

ao3 || wattpad || bthb masterpost || fanfic masterpost

words: 1627 ships: moceit (up to your interpretation) warnings: verbal fighting/arguing, nothing physical prompt: don’t let them see you cry fandom: sanders sides

summary: Patton has never liked the sound of fighting, but at least someone catches onto that. bingo card and fic under the cut!

X = finished, O = work in progress i’m still taking requests!

Patton has never liked the sound of fighting.

He knows that these arguments usually get resolved, that it’s very rare nowadays for the sides to hold extensive, serious grudges against each other thanks to the improvement in communication that they’d all been practicing with Thomas, but this is six characters all trapped within the confines of one man’s imagination and the laws of physics out in the real world. They can’t be separated from each other for alone time that easily. Everyone is always everywhere.

Individual words can’t even be distinguished from the quarrel that Logan and Roman are having, yelling meaningless insults at each other, Patton and Virgil merely caught in the fray. About five minutes of this has transpired with Virgil becoming more and more fidgety until he sinks out with an apologetic look to Patton, not even noticed by the other two quarrelling.

He’s the dad character, he should be able to stop them from fighting! But whenever he opens his mouth, the lump in his throat threatens to rise and spill his tears. And then what would they think of him? He can’t let them see him cry. Even though everyone’s been comforting and supportive of him through his more emotional days, this is a different situation. Roman and Logan are too caught up in their argument to think about timeout or indoor voices.

So, Patton waits, blinking rapidly, breathing deeply, waiting for a moment of silence so he can clear his throat and cause them to realise just how loud they’re being. Thomas probably has one hell of a headache. It’s getting harder and harder to watch the two sides argue, their quarrels clearly straying from the topic they’d first started on. However, just as Patton thinks he’s about to break, he feels a tugging that alerts him to being summoned elsewhere.

When he rises up again, he’s in a room that doesn’t look extremely familiar, but the black and yellow theme gives away just who’s it is.

“Janus?” Patton scans around the room until he lays eyes on the newly accepted side. "I’m— I'm just moderating a discussion in the common room. Do you need anything?”

"I’d hardly call it a ‘discussion’, Patton. I’ve been listening." Narrowing his mismatched eyes with suspicion, Janus walks over slowly and touches his gloved fingertips to Patton’s chin, gazing into watery eyes. "Don’t try to force your tears down. You’ve got a lot bottled up in there.”

Instinct compels him to deny that he’s feeling anything negative, plaster a smile on his face and force his voice up a pitch to uphold his sunny disposition, but then Patton remembers who he’s talking to. Janus can spot lies, that’s his function. Still, the moral trait simply takes off his glasses to rub at his eyes, not ready to let everything go just yet. “Logan and Roman are just… arguing. It’s a little much. They didn’t even notice when Virgil left.”

Janus hums in thought, then perks up as he has an idea. "I’ll go out there for you and handle things. I think that if I try to join in as myself it’ll set them off further, so, may I impersonate you for the time being? I know they both have a soft spot for you, but I saw how upset you looked watching them. You can stay here.”

Ever since Janus’ multiple impersonation plots, he’s learned to ask for permission before shifting into another side’s look. As reluctant as he was when Thomas decided to get everyone to work on better communication, he’s aware now that taking someone’s place without letting them know will cause confusion and general discord, and so he awaits Patton’s answer, hearing a distant ‘falsehood’ screech through the walls.

"Yes… please. Y— You don’t have to—“ Patton starts, but Janus shushes him gently.

"I know I don’t have to, but I want you to feel better." The snake skin on Janus’ face starts to fade as he alters his appearance to mirror the side in front of him. "I won’t be back soon, and then you can’t tell me everything that’s been on your mind lately." He smirks humorously, eliciting a more genuine smile from Patton, then conjures a pair of glasses and clears his throat, feeling his larynx lift upwards to accommodate the difference in voice patterns that the two exhibit. "Don’t go anywhere, kiddo!”

There’s no flaw in how Janus captures his voice with a dorky movement of his shoulders, making Patton chuckle to himself for a moment, then all the smiles leave him as soon as he’s left alone. He makes his way to Janus’ bed and sits down, leaning against the wall and hearing muffled conversation in the common room.

"Okay, guys, let’s not fight anymore.”

"Oh, my apologies, Patton. We must’ve figuratively strayed from the original topic.”

"Yeah, because Calculator Watch over here is being too stubborn to listen to my idea!”

"I was listening, it’s just preposterous!”

“Logan! Roman!”

A few seconds of silence drift through the air, then… "Where did Virgil go?”

"He left about five minutes ago. Poor kiddo must be pretty anxious.”

That reminds him - Virgil. He’s been on Patton’s mind for some time as well, adding to the mountain of emotions lodging in his throat. The kind, apologetic look he’d received from the anxious side before he left feels strangely refreshing after the buildup of tension between the two, ever since the whole puppet video. They’ve definitely made an effort to repair their friendship - Patton treats Virgil more like his intimidating self while still maintaining a doting, fatherly attitude and Virgil tries not to direct his outbursts towards him - but still, it seems like something’s missing. Patton just wants his best friend back.

The thought sends his tears overboard, and within a matter of seconds he’s stifling his sobs into his hand. The softener in Janus’ bedsheets underneath him provides a little bit of comfort, but every time Virgil’s face appears in his mind, the faucets in his eyes open a little more. It’s getting harder to keep his hitched breathing under a controlled volume, and he doesn’t want to alert anyone’s attention so that Janus can continue with his plan, so he grabs a pillow, sets his glasses down beside him and hides his pain away from the rest of the room.

The pillow smells of lavender. Lavender, purple… Virgil…

Patton doesn’t lift his head when he hears the familiar whoosh of displaced air as Janus returns, he just continues to sharply inhale the lavender scent and sob through his exhales. He doesn’t even try to collect his scattered pieces when a pair of arms wrap around him and hold his trembling body close, keeping it intact. Of course, with Janus being part snake, he doesn’t radiate body heat like the other sides when he gets hugs from them, but that doesn’t change the feeling of a comforting body leaning against his. All the while, Janus stays quiet and waits for him to talk, sprouting his four extra arms after a while to card one hand through his hair and trace various patterns into Patton’s arms and back with the others.

It takes a long time for the moral side to steady his breaths, but eventually he removes his face from the tear-stained pillow to look at Janus with red eyes and a runny nose. He barely stops himself from apologising, apologising for crying, crying into his pillow nonetheless, instead reminding himself that he is the emotional side and that it’s completely normal for him to be feeling this way - something he’s had to remind himself of for so long. No words are spoken yet; Janus uses his extra arms to shift Patton into his lap and then moves to lay down on the bed with Patton’s head against his chest. Tears still leak from puffy red eyes, but it seems that he’s finally let all of his most intense emotions out.

For the rest of the day, every now and again Patton says something like "I wish mine and Virgil’s relationship was the same as it was before”, or "I made Thomas think he was a bad person”, or "I just hate seeing my family fight" in between sniffles, and Janus continues the comforting motions of gloved hands in his hair and on his back, underneath his blue polo, telling him that Virgil doesn’t hate him, neither does Thomas, and it’ll all be okay soon as long as everyone decides to cooperate, and Patton knows that there’s nothing but truth in his words.

"Did you manage to get Logan and Roman to forgive each other?" He asks after a few minutes of comfortable silence.

Janus hums amusedly. "Yes, I eventually revealed myself and told them I'd get Remus to gently nudge them down the stairs if they didn’t.”

The response causes Patton to laugh adorably as he props himself up on his elbows to look at him, the corners of his eyes creasing in that way they do when he’s smiling genuinely. “Janus, no violence!”

"I was only joking, sweetie." The dorky side’s forked tongue flickers out with his smile, but then he tilts his head playfully and looks into Patton’s eyes for a moment. “…Unless?”

Patton has never liked the sound of fighting, but at least somebody has caught onto that now. In the meantime, the two will laugh the evening away and then fall asleep, tangled in each other’s limbs, but then eventually Logan and Roman will sort out their differences for good, Patton and Virgil will finally have a long-anticipated conversation, and Janus will be supporting him all the way.

Maybe it’s helpful to let yourself cry in front of somebody else every now and again.

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flokidokie · 2 years

Text

The Gancanagh - Chapter 14

Fandom: Downton Abbey

Chapter Summary: Aiden hates cricket. Thomas is there to catch him.

Read the whole story here or under #thegancanaghfic. For more of my stuff look at #flokileroux or #flokiwrites

Tagged: @jolieblack @irrationalgame

Chapter 14 - A Dé-jà-vu

The cricket gods had been generous, when the day of the match came. The sun was up, the wind was low and it hadn't rained in two days. The temperature was neither chilly nor hot. The weather was perfect. Aiden however felt miserable.

The young lord had retreated into one of the big tents, where he sat in the shadow, equipped with sunglasses and a sun hat, glaring at anyone who happened to come near. It wasn't hot, not even 25° Celsius, but his shirt clung to his skin in cold sweat. He had abandoned his sweater somewhere along the morning, causing him to shiver with every gust of wind.

Aiden was sure he must look as bad as he felt. One look in the mirror had proven him right, the bags under his eyes being even darker than before. He hadn't slept well, in fact he hadn't slept at all, the twitching of his muscles had kept him awake in the short amounts of time where he hadn't run to throw up into the sink. His stomach was long empty and Aiden had tried to appease it with a piece of toast, even if it was only to make the puking less painful.

He felt miserable, but he had made a promise and he would keep it, at least once.

Thomas looked relieved, Aiden found. Lord Robert had done his part of the deal, having promoted the former footman to an under butler even. Jimmy had been promoted to the first footman, probably to bribe him into dropping his charges against his colleague, not knowing that the young man had already done that. Aiden watched both man walking over the pitch, pleasantly talking about god-knows-what. They looked like friends. Aiden looked away.

„I brought you coffee with lemon.“, he heard Toms voice beside him. „Please don't kill me.“

The man offered him a cup with a smile, before sitting down next to him.

„It helps with the headache.“, he explained. „Helped me a lot after a long night at the pub.“

Aiden muttered a thank you, before trying the coffee.

„It tastes not as bad as it sounds.“, he said after a moment. „I'm surprised.“

He and Tom had become friends before he became part of the family, bonding over their shared Irish heritage. Sometimes Aiden would entertain the thought of following Sybils example and simply ask Thomas to run away with him somewhere far away, where they could marry and be happy. But then reality would catch up with him, leaving him even more miserable than before.

„Do you think you'll survive the game?“, Tom joked, causing Aiden to raise an eye brow.

„The question is not, if I'm going to survive, but if my opponent is going to survive.“, he replied, nipping at his coffee. „I don't see how you all think it's a good idea to give me a bat.“

Aiden didn't want to play cricket and the more he thought about having to play, the more he wanted to smash the ball into someones face, whether it would be an opponent or Moseley, who he would run into first. God, he really hoped it would be Moseley.

The former butler of Lady Isobel, who has some kind of on-off employment at the Abbey, seemed to live for cricket. That alone would be reason enough for Aiden to dislike him, but he also tended to blab about techniques and throws, showing of his apparent expertise. He had screwed up most of his throws today, still he just wouldn't stop talking.

„I don't know why I agreed to this.“, Aiden muttered, watching Moseley approaching. He readied himself for the inevitable, taking of his sun hat while standing up.

„Because you love him.“, Tom answered his rhetorical question, making Aiden grimaced.

„I assure you, my feelings for Mr. Molesley are anything but amicable.“, he said, taking a second to regain his sight. His vision had become black and frizzy for a moment.

„You know that's not who I meant.“, Tom said. „Have you talked to Thomas yet?“

Aiden looked at him and sighed. He knew him too well, to expect being given a rest.

„No, can't you see, he has a new best friend.“, he replied sarcastically, crossing his arms. „Now, don't look at me like that. We can't all be runningaround marrying our servants. Sybil was an outlier and shouldn't have been counted.“

In moments like this, Aiden often wished for her to still be with them. Aiden was sure, if she had been, she would have chewed him out already for the way he was treating her favourite footman. And without a doubt she would have tore Thomas a new one for kissing someone other than her cousin.

„I don't need to tell you, what Sybil would tell you to do, if she was here.“, Tom said, pulling Aiden out of his thoughts. „Poor man is confused out of his mind, why you would still want him around. Please talk to him, reconcile with him or ditch him for good, I don't care. But talk to him, for the sake of everyone.“

„Lord Aiden!“, Molesley called him as he entered the tent, making the young lord sigh in agony. „It's your turn. If I may give you an advice, the way one angles the elbow while throwing is essentia-“

„Good talk, Moseley.“, Aiden interrupted him, patting his shoulder as he walked passed him. „But I got to go. „I'm sure Tom is thrilled to hear about it though.“

Aiden couldn't hide a grin, as he left the tent, knowing that Tom was far too polite to escape this conversation, but he lost it as soon as he stepped out into the sun. A piercing pain went through his skull, when the light hit his eyes and it needed a moment to pass. Oh, how he hated cricket.

He made his way over to the pitch, trying to ignore Thomas who stood not far from his position. The batter on the other side of the pitch was a man that frequently attended the pub, Aiden remembered. He recognized him from one incident, where he had claimed the young lord would be flirting with his girl. He hadn't, obviously, but he lost almost twenty pounds that night, trying to convince him on that.

Aiden looked over the brim of his glasses, trying to to focus on the wicket behind the man. Although it was only twenty metres away, he had trouble actually seeing it, his vision getting blurrier the more he tried. The young lord decided to aim the ball randomly. He had promised his uncle to play after all, not that he would be playing good.

He exhaled slowly, ignoring his shaking hands and closed his eyes, before he aimed and threw. If he had hit the wicket or nor, he couldn't tell, but the team cheered for him, so he couldn't have missed. Aiden didn't care though, he was busy willing his growing headache away. Everything was too bright and too warm, his body wouldn't stop trembling and he felt sicker with every second.

„Are you okay, love?“, he heard Thomas voice beside him, but he wasn't sure if he imagined it. He sounded far away, like in a dream, though Aiden could feel his presence next to him. He sounded worried with whatever he said next, Aiden couldn't quite make out among the ringing in his ears, that grew louder and louder with time.

He looked up to him, finding him standing in the sunlight. Thomas hair was free of his usual style, hanging in his face, the way Aiden preferred it. His skin was reddened by the sun and the exercise. The cream colour of his outfit was unusual, but not bad. He looked good like this, happy, and also a bit worried, though Aiden couldn't tell why.

Everything became light and Aiden wondered. He had always expected to see an angel after he died, not right before he did.

xxx

I don't feel well.

Thomas hadn't expected this too be the last words he would be hearing from Aiden. Maybe he would have expected something like leave me aloneor I wish I'd never met you,but it were these words the young man had uttered, before he passed out into his arms. Thomas had the worst kind of dejavue.

The memory of their surroundings had become a blur after that. People were shouting, someone had called a doctor and somehow there had been police involved. Thomas still hadn't found out what that had been about. He had been busy not to panic, while Aidens body had been hit by violent convulsions.

He had been the one carrying him into the shadows, before Dr. Clarkson tried his best to hold his body in place for a proper treatment. Thomas had been watching the young man, whose body, though still moving, had been looking like a corpse for weeks now. He felt guilty, for not helping him, for not asking what was wrong and most importantly for at least being partially responsible for his condition.

He had also been the one who had carried the now motionless body to his chambers, where Dr. Clarkson had thrown him and everyone out, except for Lady Grantham. The door had closed and Thomas was mere seconds away from hyperventilating.

Hell broke loose as the news reached the last servants of the house. Like vultures they gathered around the hallway, trying to get more information from the witnesses, until Carson called them to order. They meant well, they were worried, but all their questions make Thomas' skin crawl. He would have started to scratch it red and bloody, if it hadn't been for Jimmy, who handed him a cigarette. Carson had pretended not to see him smoking and said nothing.

After what felt like an eternity, the door opened with an eerie creak. Dr. Clark stepped out, meeting numerous waiting eyes, and cleared his throat.

„He's fine now, according to the circumstances.“, he said quickly, causing more than one relieved sigh. „But he needs rest now.“

The doctor bid his farewell, followed by Lady Grantham, who had walked out of Aidens room behind him. Thomas head jumped up, when he heard her speak. The underbutler sat distressed on the floor on the hallway, his back leaning against the wall where he watched his trembling hands. The whole Abbey knew Thomas as tidy and reserved, always proper and never any less than perfect. Now he looked more like he had been hauled through the woods by a car for twenty minutes. His hair was messy, his shirt was wrinkled and dirty. His eyes red and teary. He looked miserable, anything but presentable. Lady Grantham smiled at him kindly.

„You should go to him.“, she said quietly. „He wants to see you.“

„Of course...“, Thomas replied, still beside himself, before clearing his throat. He stood up, trying to fix his attire as much as possible. Her ladyship was so kind to pretend he was succeeding.

With a quiet click the door closed behind him. The room was dark and Thomas needed a few seconds before his eyes had gotten used to the darkness, but he could make out Aidens form laying on his bed. He had lost his shirt, probably to lower the fever, and was only covered by a thin blanket. A wet cloth lay on his forehead.

„Thomas...?“, he asked with a faint voice, slightly turning his head into his direction. „What happened? Did we win?“

Thomas couldn't help to chuckle at his words, as he sat down next to the bed, quickly wiping away the tears that had formed in his eyes.

„We are at a draw, but you hit the wicket.“, Thomas said, shaking his head. „I can't believe you hit it in that condition.... I can't believe you even played!“

Aiden looked at him with a face of determination, that contrasted heavily with how tired he looked.

„I made a deal.“, he said in a matter of fact. „I promise I'd play, so I did.“

Thomas took a deep breath. Aiden talked to him and he needed answers. The boy couldn't run away in his state. This was his only chance.

„I don't understand why you are doing this for me.“, he said truthfully, locking eyes with the man beside him. „The way you treated me, made me assume, that you didn't want me anymore, and it hurt, but I was ready to accept that. But you still call me pet names, you ask me to dance, only to run away like I burned you. And now you almost die on my, trying to make sure I won't suffer the consequences of my own actions.“

Thomas did not tell him how much it had hurt to feel this way, he had the feeling the young lord suffered enough the way it was. Another reason to finally talk this out, so they both could move on.

„I want to understand, what this is.“, he said pleading. „Please tell me, what happened in Melbourne.“

Aiden looked away, his face a pained grimace and Thomas let him take his time. Whatever it was, it must have been bad, if he never told anyone about it.

„I'll tell you.“, the young lord said finally, still avoiding his gaze. „But you have to listen until the end. And you have to understand, what I'll tell you is... it may hurt you. I didn't know how to tell you this, without hurting you.“

Thomas nodded, waiting for him to speak.

„My grandmother died. That's why I had to leave.“, Aiden began, fidgeting with his hands. „I intended to stay no longer that two weeks, just until after the funeral, but when I wanted to leave, they wouldn't let me.“

Aiden paused, taking a deep breath before continuing.

„Mama decided that I was sick and send me to a clinic for treatment.“, he said with furrowed brows. „I don't think I have to tell you what kind of sickness they wanted to treat.“

He didn't, Thomas thought. He knew too well what these kind of clinics promised to achieve, had seen the articles in the newspaper.... choose your own way, they said. He would lie, if he claimed he had never thought about it.

„After 3 months, half of the people I came with were dead, they either killed themselves or didn't survive the electro-therapy. That was when I understood I had to play along, if I wanted to survive.“, Aiden said further, his mind being far away. „I did what they told me to do, said what they wanted to hear. I put on a dress, put on make up and did all the things a proper lady would do. I did a few things no proper lady would do... or let someone do to her... and after a few months I walked out as Lady Aine McTavish. My mother was over herself with joy, I wanted to spit into her face, but that wouldn't have been ladylike, would it?“

Aiden snapped back into the present, briefly looking at Thomas shocked face, quickly looking away again.

„I said I'd meet her at the manor, but I booked a passage to Europe instead, bolting before she would see through my ruse.“, he said, inspecting his bitten nails. „I thought I'd be fine if I returned to Downton, home to you, that I could forget what happened, but... It seemed the conditioning got to my head after all.“

The young lord searched for Thomas hand, that he had laid on the mattress, grabbing it with a trembling hand. Thomas looked at him with surprise, not wanting to interrupt his story. He squeezed it once, just to tell him he was there.

„They try to wash your dirty feelings out of your mind by making you associate them with all kinds of ugly things. Violence, pain, emetics.. And everytime I saw you, I thought about the things they did.“, Aiden explained. „I wanted to hug you, and my body winced in pain. The mere though of talking to you, made me want to throw up. It was a strange sensation.“

Thomas tried to withdraw his hand, not wanting to cause him the pain he had just described, but Aiden held him with a surprisingly strong grip.

„I tried to counter it, conditioning myself to stop associating you with all of this.“, he continued. „I tried alcohol and fragrance oil, meditation and exposure therapy. When we danced I lasted for a whole twelve minutes, which is a lot, considering that I couldn't even look at you at the beginning.“

They were silent for a moment, Aiden having told what needed to be told and Thomas trying to process all of this. They should have had this conversation a long time ago.

„You should have told me sooner.“, he said, squeezing the young mans hand once again. „We would have found a way to fix this.“

„I know.“, Aiden replied. „And I wanted to, but then you kissed Jimmy. I thought it was too late.“

„I shouldn't have done that.“, Thomas said, grimacing. „That wasn't fair to any of us. I don't think he will ever forgive me.“

Aiden smiled at him. It wasn't yet the typical Aiden-smile, but it was something. He was alive, he was looking at him and he smiled. Thomas heart throbbed.

„He already has, and to be honest, I think you caused an awakening.“, Aiden disagreed, smile faltering. „Why did you kiss him?“

„I tried to get over you.“, he answered truthfully and could almost see the pang Aiden must be feeling in his heart.

„Do you still want to get over me?“, he asked quietly with hurt in his eyes and a tremor in his voice.

„Do I have to?“, Thomas asked, putting a chaste kiss on the young lords knuckles. „Do you still want to marry?“

Aiden scoffed.

„I never wanted to marry.“, he said, his face now angry. „Mama arranged an engagement with someone I don't know. She still thinks her plan was successful.“

Thomas could have realized this sooner, he thought. Of course Lady Moira would not give up turning Aiden into a proper lady and an arranged marriage did sound like something she would do.

„I don't think I could marry anyone else but you.“, Aiden murmured, almost to quietly for Thomas to hear it, but he did and the words make his chest swell with fondness. How had he ever thought he'd be able to get over Aiden McTavish? How lovely, that Aiden felt the same way.

„In this case, no, I don't want to get over you.“, Thomas said, letting out a shaking breath. „In fact, I don't think I ever could. After all I think I'm still completely and utterly in love with you.“

Thomas saw Aidens breath stutter at his words, before the young lord grabbed the cloth from his head and put it away.

„Was that a question or a statement?“, he asked, another smile starting to form on his face. He pushed himself up, so he could sit in the bed, not letting go of Thomas' hand the whole time.

„A statement.“, Thomas replied, smiling as well.

„Good.“, Aiden said. „Then we are on the same page here.“

Outside there were noises. Thomas couldn't quite make out what was being said, but he recognized Carsons voice ordering servants around.

„I assume Carson got fed up with all the people hogging the hallways.“, Thomas commented. „They will pester me with questions once I step out of the room, I'm sure.“

„Then don't.“

Thomas shouldn't. He should go downstairs, before Carson would wonder where he was. Dinner had to be prepared and he was expected to serve in the evening. He had spend too much time in the young lords chambers already and Carson wouldn't take his absence kindly, if it hadn't been her ladyships will. He was torn.

„Please don't go.“, Aiden said and Thomas remembered that he had almost lost him today. He really didn't want to leave him.

„Can you stomach me staying?“, he asked and Aiden lifted both their hands, fingers still intertwined.

„I'm still holding your hand and I'm fine.“, he said with confidence. „This is nice actually, I missed this. Exposure does wonders, it seems.“

Thomas pondered. If one of the higher-ups would see them, he would be in trouble. But Aiden needed him and he needed Aiden, having be parted for so long,

„Only for a few minutes.“, he sighed eventually, removing his shoes to climb into the bed next to the young lord. Aiden moved to the side, making space for the man to lay down next to him. Only for a few minutes, he thought as he pulled the young man into his arms, then he would go downstairs, apologizing for his absence and prepare to serve dinner, like any other day. Aiden crawled into his chest, clawing his fingers into Thomas' shirt, as if he feared he would leave him. Only for a few minutes.

#thegancanaghfic #downton abbey #thomas barrow #flokiwrites #flokileroux #fan fiction #writeblr #creative writing

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