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bffsoobin · 4 years ago

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This Time Around

➤ idol!yeonjun x non!idol/ex!girlfriend reader ft. same reader x jungkook (mostly platonic), fluff, angst, lots of messy feelings, other txt members make appearances/are mentioned

↳ weeks after your chance reconnection with Yeonjun, you book a flight to Seoul under his encouragement. When you arrive, you’re not only overwhelmed by the lifestyle of an idol, but the new people you meet. Will you and Yeonjun be able to hold on to each other this time around?

word count: 9k

requested?: yes! (thank you for this great idea, anon)

warnings: this is largely angst. crying, arguments, swearing, feelings of betrayal and confusion, Yeonjun is kind of an ass, self-doubt (in both Yeonjun and reader), messy feelings and relationships all around, this does NOT have a happy ending so don’t go in expecting one lmao also disclaimer (?) that I a) have no idea what the BH building looks like inside b) don’t think that either Yeonjun or Jungkook would act this way...we are here to write fiction, after all.

A/N: This is a sequel to Just One Day! I won’t be making too many explicit references to the content of that fic but reading it first will help with storyline clarity! I also don’t explicitly state this but the reader in this case already knows Korean, she just has never been to the country before- it was simply easier for storytelling. I really hope y’all like this. I was very inspired by this request especially since I was in the mood to write both angst and a sequel to one of my older pieces! (also this gave me a good excuse to write about koo without feeling bad for straying from TXT content lmao) ALSO this is not proof read or edited, as usual for me :)

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“I think it’s a good idea,” Yeonjun’s voice, velvety and heavy with sleep, seeps through the speakers of your phone. You glance at the time displayed on your computer and do the mental math which proves it’s a crisp 2 am in Korea.

“Go to bed, Junnie,” you half-scold, knowing that you wish for nothing more than for him to stay on the line until he eventually falls asleep in the middle of the conversation. He sighs through the phone, and you imagine him stretching his arms above his head to eliminate the fatigue creeping through him.

“Not till you promise me you’ll come,” he counters smartly. Your stomach flips wildly at the words. It had been almost three months since you spent the day with him, and not a single day had passed where he hadn’t been on your mind. Whether you spent your time talking to him or indulging yourself in your newfound kpop guilty pleasures, Yeonjun was almost always on your mind. Staying in touch proved to be harder than expected, due to both time zones and your equally packed schedules. Since he had flown back to Korea, you’d begun your first big girl job in a serious office that required constant business attire and piled the paperwork onto you, the newest and youngest hire.

“I’d love to, but you know how it is at work. I think my boss would combust if I told him I was taking a week’s vacation.” Talking about work made your head swim, as you recalled the stack of paperwork currently residing on your bedroom desk that needed to be finished before you showed up on Monday.

“That’s exactly why you deserve a vacation, Y/N. Look, if you fly into Seoul I promise I’ll make sure you don’t think about work for a second. I know you have time to take off, so take it. Come see me.” The line was quiet for a few seconds as you pondered, weighing your options carefully.

“I miss you,” Yeonjun’s voice came through loud and clear, crumbling the last remaining bit of your resolve. You missed him too, so much more than you ever thought you would, and your heartbeat kicks into high gear at the thought of seeing him again.

“Okay, I’ll file for my week off on Monday. I’ll see you soon, Yeonjun.”

----

When you finally arrive inside of the BigHit building, suitcase in tow and a huge visitor lanyard around your neck, your hands are sweating profusely. A kind staff member had picked you up from the airport and delivered you to the practice room that Yeonjun would presumably be inside of. The walls were soundproofed well, but you could hear the faint beat of bass through the heavy door as you hesitate in pushing it open. Another staff member passes behind you and eyes you closely until recognizing the badge hanging around your neck.

Feeling awkward for hesitating in the hallway after being seen, you push on the door until it swings open in a smooth motion. The wheels of your suitcase click over the seams of the floor, and the sound would have been enough to make you cringe if it weren’t for the pounding music.

A track you don’t recognize echos through the mirrored room as none other than Choi Yeonjun stares intently back at his own dancing reflection. You catch your own reflection; arms crossed in a protective latch over your chest.

His body moves fluidly, as if he had left all of his bones waiting for him at home, and a thrill of excited anxiety crawls through your chest. He was really there, mere feet away, and you were really here in the middle of the BigHit building, achieving the dreams of fans all over the world.

The music stops and your mouth runs dry. Yeonjun’s heaving breath is the only sound in the mirrored room and you try to drive away the thought of the last time you’d heard him pant like that; sweaty and shirtless overtop of you on your rickety secondhand couch.

“You made it.” He says, impressively able to control his voice even after the exertion.

“In one piece, at least.” You say. Your arms stay wound around your body, a protective cage against his stare and his touch. He eyes you carefully and you’re suddenly concerned that your airport-chic appearance is inadequate.

“You look pretty.” He whispers, stepping close enough that his heaving chest almost touches your crossed arms. His hands, fingers calloused and rough, wind around your wrists and tug gently, giving you plenty of time to pull back. But you let him unwind your arms and pull them to your sides. His hands are large and warm and press gently into your skin, grounding you into the room and the moment and the absurdity of the fact that you’re actually here with him in Korea.

“You bleached your hair.” You offer weakly, withering underneath his attention.

“I’m not supposed to tell, but I’m getting ready for pink.” He says. Sweat drips down his temples, meeting and rolling together in tracks down to his chin. He looks just as handsome as you remember him to be months before, but it’s hard to ignore the thinned frame of his face.

“Have you been taking care of yourself?” You ask, finally finding courage to string together a meaningful sentence.

“I’m glad you’re here.” Yeonjun leans into you, supporting himself on the tips of his toes until he’s dangerously close to toppling you both over. He levels a heavy, constant gaze on you, eyes drifting down to the surprised pout of your lips and sliding back to your eyes. In a second you know that he wants to kiss you, and there is nothing more you’d like than for that to happen, so you close your eyes and lean into him; feel the warmth of his breath and you can almost taste the salt of his sweat, but the kiss never comes. Instead, Yeonjun startles and drops his hands from you, takes one huge step back and immediately bends into a deep bow.

Your back is still facing the door, but you catch a glimpse through the mirror. Jeon Jungkook stands just inside the door, dark wavy hair tied half up in a messy bun, some loose strands framing his face. He’s wearing a t-shirt and loose sweats and rubbing fatigue from his eyes, but he’s somehow even more handsome in person. Your face flushes, desperately trying not to make eye contact with him through the mirror and knowing you failed as soon as he shoots you a small, toothy smile.

“Didn’t know you had company,” He says in lieu of a greeting as he steps just slightly closer to the two of you.

“We were just going.” Yeonjun bows again, grabs your wrist and tugs you in a persuasive manner.

“It’s okay, really.” Jungkook enthuses, eyes crinkling in apparent amusement at Yeonjun’s behavior and before you know it your face twists into a similar smile. It had been a long time since you’d seen Yeonjun so nervous, acting like he was attached to a live wire that kept him moving nonstop. “No need to rush out on my account.” Jungkook adds as Yeonjun tugs you again, leaving your suitcase abandoned in the spot you’d been standing. You open your mouth to protest.

“Wait! I don’t think that...” Jungkook looks at you pointedly as he rolls the suitcase back over to the two of you.

“Y/N.” You offer, hands sweating profusely as he passes over the luggage.

“I don’t think that Y/N would like to leave without her suitcase.” His eyes twinkle with something like an untold joke, an anecdote he wants to share but keeps in the back of his head for later. You thank him shortly, still starstruck and nervous as Yeonjun pulls you out of the door.

----

“I’m so sorry about that.” Yeonjun apologizes again as you arrive at a new door, this one in a whole new wing of the building that you would have gotten lost finding on your own.

“It’s okay, Jun. I expect to run into...o-other people.” You stutter as he opens the door, facing the realization that you were probably about to meet Yeonjun’s members too. The dorm was simpler than you expected, opening up to a lightly furnished living room that looked like it had been hastily cleaned- you could see a stack of clothes had been clumsily shoved behind the couch.

The lack of instant greetings surprises you as you follow Yeonjun blindly into the room but you don’t say anything. You kind of wish that the other four boys would come bursting out, bombard you with questions and jokes and prodding fingers as Yeonjun lets you into his room. The air is still charged from your interrupted kiss, and your fingers curl around the handle of your suitcase as you recall Jungkook’s reaction. He had clearly found it amusing, but was he more interested in teasing Yeonjun or finding out exactly who you were?

In the moment you had found his attention comical although stressful, like a funny anecdote that Yeonjun might grumble about a few weeks later. Now, you replay it over and over again, worried that every chance interaction with another idol within the building would play out exactly the same. Maybe you weren’t quite cut out for this. Yeonjun had been speaking the whole time, rattling off words you don’t catch as he opens and closes drawers.

“-is that alright?” He asks, spinning on his socked heels to face you. You freeze, trying desperately to claw through your mind for any clues to what he’d said. Yeonjun smirks, closes in on you and raises a well-kept eyebrow.

“What did I just ask you?” He asks, voice level and cool despite the teasing nature of the question.

“I-I don’t know.” You admit, a blush rises on your cheeks as his smirk pulls even larger.

“I asked...” he tucks a stray hair behind your ear, “if you wanted to share a bed. You could always sleep on the couch, but I-”

“No, I’ll sleep with you!” You slap a hand over your mouth as Yeonjun dissolves into giggles. “I mean, I mean, I don’t mind sharing a bed.” You try desperately to break through his laughter but it’s useless, so you succumb to the same fit of giggles. Yeonjun cups your cheeks sweetly, squishing them together in earnest before leaning in the same way he had just minutes prior. Your heart stutters at the knowledge that this kiss was finally happening after three months separated.

Your lips meet in soft, tentative passes against each other until you recall the feeling. Yeonjun is hesitant, hanging back until you surge forward, kissing him harder and wiggling your tongue between the seam of his lips until he opens them. His teeth rake your bottom lip and nibble hard enough to draw blood, the metallic taste grounding you into the moment until Yeonjun pulls back, thumbs stroking the tops of your cheeks. He places another kiss to your nose, giggling against your skin as you shy away.

A loud crash sounds from just outside the door and you jump, eyes blowing wide when the sound of overlapping voices grows closer and closer. Yeonjun tells you that the rest of the boys must be back and ushers you out of the room before you can protest.

In the living room you’re faced with the four of them, all busying themselves with mundane tasks or scrolling through their phones until Yeonjun clears his throat. They look up simultaneously, synchronized enough that you would have laughed under a different circumstance.

“Everyone, this is, my uh, uh, Y/N.” Yeonjun awkwardly sweeps a hand your way and you flush, feeling small as the four boys you’d watched and laughed with and admired through a screen bowed to you.

“I really-it’s not...well, hi.” You sigh.

----

Introductions aside, the night slides by easily until the wear of your travel catches up with you so suddenly that you slump onto the nearest body. Yeonjun shakes you awake and it’s only then that you notice the shoulder you were leaning upon belonged to Beomgyu. You apologize to the boy as soon as you can get your tongue to work properly and are soon whisked away to Yeonjun’s bedroom. The short trip awoke you to an unpleasant degree, almost feeling as if you were suddenly too aware of your surroundings. The lights were too bright, the scent of fabric softener too strong in your nose, the sound of the remaining four people in the living room too loud. And of course, the presence of Yeonjun too much to handle.

You sit at the foot of the bed and pick at your nails while Yeonjun shuffles around the room, doing something you don’t bother to track closely.

“Are you going to get ready for bed?” He asks shortly, not even turning to face you. You now realize that he had pulled on pajamas of his own; a too-big graphic t-shirt and a pair of worn sweatpants. Frowning, you head for your own suitcase and dig through the carefully stacked clothes until you find some suitable options. You change quickly, keeping your back to him although you can feel his heavy stare at your back.

“Did you like them?” He asks. You sit back at the metal headboard and nod thoughtfully. His lips draw into a straight line as he settles beside you. “You and Beomgyu really...got along well.”

“Sure, I think we all got along well.” You offer, tucking yourself underneath his newly cleaned sheets. For a moment you wonder what he was going to do about the lights overhead, but they extinguish with a press of a button on his phone. Plunged in darkness, you can’t help but feel a bit bolder, indulging in the burn of defiance within you.

“Why? Are you jealous?” You ask. Yeonjun scoffs and you can feel the sheets pull as he flips underneath them. He says nothing but you can feel the air in the room shift. The bedding feels suffocating.

“Goodnight, Y/N.”

----

When you wake, you’re uncharacteristically hot. You notice the sweat beading your neck and forehead as soon as you sit up, desperate to free yourself from the covers. You wonder if Yeonjun is suffering a similar fate, or if his body is used to the brutal heat of his bedroom. You turn to look for him, happy anxiety at the thought of seeing his sleeping form in real time brewing in the pit of your stomach. You couldn’t count the amount of times you’d imagined this exact moment, wondered if he scrunched his face in his sleep or if he looked serene and peaceful, wondered if he snored or spoke or sighed in his sleep.

But all you saw was crumpled sheets and a small, bright green post-it note with bunched writing. It stuck to the bed sheets as you pulled it up, and you had to blink a few times before you finally understood the gist of the note. Yeonjun was gone, off to do his daily idol duties, and you are welcome to use their shower as none of the boys were home. You scan the note again for any sign of love or sincerity but find nothing more than cold and clinical facts, like a teacher giving instructions to a class.

Bitterness grows in your chest as you slip into the cramped shower and cool yourself off under a trickle of water. Theoretically, you know that Yeonjun would be busy while you were here. After all, you couldn’t expect the company to let him off of all responsibility just because you were around. Your skin was growing red under the scrub of your fingers. But he could have at least run it by you last night, warned you that he would probably be gone by the time you got up and given you some idea of when he’d be back. What were you supposed to do all day? You stepped out of the shower, flinging your wet hair away from your face. You could barely make it out of this building alone, but you’d be damned if all you did was sit here and wait for him to return. If he wasn’t going to be here, you’d make your own fun.

You were unfamiliar to Seoul, but after navigating yourself out of the BigHit building you felt as if you could conquer anything. You hadn’t realized how much of the day had passed by in your slumber until you stepped into the real world. Dusk had begun to fall over the sky, painting it a hazy purple-pink in anticipation of a sunset. People and cars and buses rushed by with purpose as you stand still and baffled at the city before you. The packed street before you is a little bit intimidating, but reminded you enough of the bustle of your hometown that you took a brave step forward anyway. Crossing so quickly that you almost run into a group of teenage girls, you finally reach some kind of a destination. To be fair, you had done zero planning on sight seeing before coming, so almost every building looked like a destination to you. A particularly cute looking café seemed to manifest itself out of thin air and beckon you in with sweet drinks and sugary snacks. You order and eat greedily with the realization that this is your first real meal since being on the plane yesterday, and the waitress laughs when you tell her that as you flag her down for another piece of cake.

The café certainly lives up to the hype you make for it, but you notice the employees begin to clean and close things down, so you leave and thank them on the way out. You finally check your phone, hoping that Yeonjun might have sent you an apology or an update, but you see nothing aside from email notifications. Emblazoned by his actions, you continue on your exploration, opening the doors to a clothing shop with so much force that other patrons cringe. Inside, you buy way too many things to fit in your suitcase before traipsing yourself-weighed down by bags- into a nearby restaurant. Something about being in Korea had elevated your appetite to an extreme level, so your stomach growls as soon as you cross over the threshold. The place is crowded, almost packed wall to wall as patrons and employees alike bustle between one another.

The cute wooden sign reads “seat yourself” so you dodge and weave until you find a tiny table, just big enough for your party of one, hidden in a more private corner of the restaurant. An employee spots you and yells out that he’s going to go get a menu, so you content yourself with people watching in the meantime. At the table diagonal to you, you spot a woman who looks just about the same age as you. Her hair is carefully waved; a deep, shiny brown that flows just down to the top of her chest. Every feature you can spot is immaculate and it makes you feel sick. Her nails are perfectly manicured, not a single chip or hang nail in sight, while your own nailbeds are torn up and bloody as a result of nervous picking. A weird, unwelcome acidity crawls up the back of your throat and demands to be acknowledged, makes your eyes burn with envious tears as the waiter finally delivers a menu and you wonder why you can’t just look that put together and perfect. After you order you can no longer stand to look her way anymore, angry at the fact that you were so resentful of this stranger.

Your waiter drops your food and utensils with polite haste but you aren’t nearly as hungry as you were before. Noodles and broth swirl around your spoon as the steam rises into your face, paying more attention to the bustle of the open kitchen where you spot a fun streak of vibrant pink hair. Whoever is donning it must have had it done recently. There’s a few small patches of pink dye spotting the back of their neck and it’s quite endearing to think about until you remember- Yeonjun was supposed to be dying his hair pink soon, and that tall frame and broad back look suspiciously familiar, and he still hasn’t sent you any texts, and you think that maybe he was just getting some takeout and heading back home but then he turns away from the counter and heads to your corner of the building. Your mouth goes dry, all the air still and stale in your lungs as his eyes land on yours. He looks away and then looks back again, double taking as if he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. As if he hadn’t been the one to invite you out to Korea, as if you hadn’t shared a bed last night. And then he moves, finally, walks away from the counter and toward your table with a tray piled with food and your heart hammers against your ribs as he walks right by and settles into the seat across from the perfect girl. She smiles wide as he unloads the food and settles in.

There’s nothing you can do but stare and fight the sting of your eyes until your waiter comes back around, notices your untouched food and asks if you want a takeout container. You say yes loud enough for Yeonjun to hear, and you can see him flinch but you know he won’t turn around. Not in public, with all these people around. Not when he’s an idol and you’re just a normal girl- a fucking tourist- and not when Miss Perfect is giggling her perfect laugh at whatever he just said.

The air outside is cold and it stings. Your face is wet but you don’t try to hide it. You don’t know any of these people, and they will never see you again. They probably won’t even remember that you cried on the walk home, weighed down with bags of food and clothes and the knowledge that Yeonjun was lying.

When you return to the dorm Beomgyu, Soobin and Taehyun are hanging around the living room, watching something on the television.

“Hey- where’s Yeonjun? He said he was going to dinner, we assumed he was meeting you.” Soobin asks, his tone cautiously trying to hide his confusion.

“Well, I did go to dinner,” you lift up the bags on your arm, “and so did Yeonjun. At the same place.” Your voice clips and you take a moment wonder if you should go on until Beomgyu mutters a soft “oh”.

“Well, here’s some food.” The plastic bag thuds on the coffee table. “Not hungry.”

----

You don’t know what time it is when Yeonjun decides to come back, but you have no plans of acknowledging his presence. The room is dimmed, only a bedside lamp left to keep you out of total darkness. You are perfectly content to simmer in your own anger for the night, let him feel it radiate off of your back the whole time you sleep. Until he has the audacity to ask, “Hey, what’s wrong?” You see red in the dark room. Your fingers clench into the pillow, making a victim out of the poor feathers and fabric as you contemplate throwing it at his head. His new hair looks even nicer in the low light; nearly fluorescent and falling in a perfectly styled arc around his face.

“Don’t do that. Act like you don’t know.” You spit. Yeonjun says nothing but he clears his throat awkwardly, as if he’s about to make an argument, but you beat him to it.

“At least tell me who she is.” You try to hide the waver of your voice but it’s already there to stay.

“She’s no one! I’m not really supposed to tell anyone about it yet, the guys don’t even know-”

“They don’t know what? That you’re keeping two different girls in your pocket? Can’t even commit to one for a week long vacation? Jesus, Yeonjun, If you want to...cheat on me, at least wait until I’m not in the country. Fuck, I can’t even call it cheating because you don’t even want to date me! We only met up again a few months ago, and we spent one day together! And we fucked and it was nice and it was fun but what the fuck was it really? I texted you today, you know, to ask where the hell you were, and you never answered. I know that your life is busy, but a warning yesterday would have been nice.”

“I’m not cheating on you! She’s not- she’s just, someone I- that’s not the point, Y/N! And I’m sorry I didn’t answer you, but I was really busy, and I forgot to bring it up and I’m sorry, but did you really expect me to hang around all day?” You grit your teeth to stop an annoyed screech from hopping out.

“Of course not, Yeonjun. I’m not an idiot. What I expected was some fucking communication. I traveled across the world to come see you, maybe even try to figure out what we are, and so far all I’ve done is wander around the city alone. This isn’t what I wanted to do! I’m missing a week of work for this! I didn’t come out here just to be your little plaything once you get home!”

“That’s not what I’m doing!” Yeonjun stands up from the bed, rubbing his palms over the back of his neck. “I knew you would never understand. You can never understand how busy this lifestyle is, and I guess I was stupid for believing that you could understand, and that you wouldn’t be mad at me for having to go do my fucking job.”

“I don’t understand? I don’t understand your life? Will you ever just admit that you only like me because you can mold me around your shit? When I’m back home you can call me at any hour that works for you, and I’ll pick up. You can bitch about your job and your friends and your company and all the pain you have but whenever I call you you’re tired or sick or just don’t feel like it. Guess fucking what Yeonjun. I’m here now. And we share a room and a bed and a city so you can’t keep me miles away and at your beck and call whenever you so well please. I’m right in front of you now, and you need to own up to your shit. You ignored me. Now you’re lying about whoever the fuck that girl was. You don’t get to be a prick just because you’re a famous idol.” Your face is hot and your hands are shaking. Sweat is beading on your forehead just like it did this morning and it makes you itch but you refuse to move a single muscle, hardened to the spot and staring Yeonjun down. You can’t even remember how the argument started, but all you know now is that you can’t stand to look at him any longer. His eyes are wide, bottom lip wobbling. Tears sting at your eyes and your nose burns and you’re ready to lay down or maybe chug a bottle of vodka.

“I’m going to bed.” You pull the covers over you even though you’re sweltering, turn off the bedside lamp with the switch and clamp your eyes shut.

----

Your brain never shuts off. Even when you slam your eyes shut and start counting metaphorical sheep, you’re still replaying the argument on a relentless loop. Yeonjun had left the room moments after you tucked yourself in and you had yet to hear the door creak to announce his reappearance, so it was safe to assume that he was sleeping on the couch or holed up with another one of the boys. Or maybe he went crawling back to Miss Perfect.

The room is suffocating; heat simmers off of every surface even after you’ve thrown off the sheets and the white walls are annoying you. If you ever talk to Yeonjun again it will have to be about his piss poor decorating skills and the fact that he couldn’t even manage to hang up some pictures to break up the never ending white. Your phone says it’s just minutes shy of 2 am, but what does that really mean when you have no idea what time you laid down? Your legs move before your mind decides where you’re going, seemingly possessed by the idea of leaving the room as fast as possible. There’s just enough time to shrug on a crewneck and a pair of sneakers before you find yourself under the blinding fluorescents of the hall that remind you exactly where you are. Tall, sturdy black doors stand on both sides of you, metal accents gleaming and boasting their contents. There’s no easy way to understand the layout of the building, and you assume that’s for the protection of the idols, but it also means that you completely forget the only route you know for leaving the building.

Had you taken a left or a right? Did you pass by the hallway next to the ladies bathroom or go down it? Had there always been a potted plant next to that office, or did all of the doors just look similar? Somehow, you find yourself back in the place you had first been delivered to when you arrived. The doors were slightly different here, some made of thick wavy glass that was vaguely transparent and others made out of the same black you had become used to. A set of three rooms with the wavy glass were right next to one another, and if your suspicions were correct they were all practice rooms, presumably empty at the lack of music. The thought of the rooms, empty and clean and sporting just enough comfortable furniture in the corner for you to sprawl out on. There was no way that sleep was going to overcome you, but at least you could feel secure in your loneliness for a few hours.

The metal handle was cold, chilling your sweaty palm instantly, but you’re met with harsh resistance. It doesn’t budge forward no matter how hard you push downward and lean into the door. Out of anger you try one more time, grunting and digging your heels into the carpet of the hallway.

“You need a card to get in.” A voice calls from what must just be steps behind you, and you jump embarrassingly high before turning reluctantly. Surely some poor late-shift cleaner or intern had seen you struggling with the door and decided to take pity on you before someone really saw you making a fool of yourself. You could only imagine what they were thinking- how they would go home to their pets or family or friends and laugh about the girl they saw throwing her entire weight against a locked door.

But in the split second your neurons begin to fire anew, you know that you weren’t lucky enough to be discovered by another normal member of society. On this already annoyingly unlucky night you come face to face with- once again- Jeon Jungkook. You flush immediately and pull at the hem of your shorts until they do a better job at covering your thighs. You’re still sweaty, strands of hair matted to the back of your neck and your forehead, and the fact that it’s sometime past 2 am and you’ve yelled and cried and tossed and turned and cursed everything that led you to this moment only makes you look worse.

And, of course, even though it’s sometime past 2 am and maybe Jungkook had also been sweating and tossing and turning and cursing everything too...he still manages to look like an angel. His hair is unruly, all loose and wavy and sticking up in some places. His outfit is almost identical to what you first saw him in, but this it was black instead of gray, and his sleeves are bunched at the elbow, only affording you half a look at his lithe muscles and tattoos. His lips split in the same toothy grin as he gestures a small plastic card your way. How dare he look so handsome no matter the circumstance. He’s so much closer than he had been before, merely a foot away from you in the narrow hallway. Up this close you can see how perfect his skin is, as smooth and pore less as Yeonjun’s and Miss Perfect’s.

“No, I don’t need it.” You dismiss his hand with a small wave, sour after reminding yourself why you were here to begin with.

“Seems like you do?” Jungkook’s voice was oddly small too. He retracts his hand halfway, making sure you could still take it from him if you want to.

“No, what I need is a new boyfriend.” You spit the words before your conscious can review them, before you can remember that Yeonjun isn’t your boyfriend, that he isn’t technically anything except a rekindled flame you traveled across the world for. Jungkook pulls his arm all the way back and his face softens. You know he puts the pieces together quickly and you can feel the sympathy pass through the hall. “Nevermind. I’m sure you’re busy, or need to pass by or- yeah, sorry.” You stand aside, press against the wall and wait for him to walk away, but he stays grounded and levels his soft but deadly gaze on you. It’s an unwelcome reminder that he’s one of the most famous idols in the world and you’re standing in the middle of his company building; tired and teary.

“Did you fight? Is that why you’re wondering through our part of the building alone?” He gestures at one of the doors further down the hallway, a solid black one, and you can make out a shiny plaque with his name on it and some cute little decorations taped on the wall.

“I’m so sorry, I can’t find my way around this place- I just couldn’t sleep so I wandered and I guess I ended up in...your part of the building.” You can feel the heat radiate off of your face as he smiles again, nose scrunching at your panic.

“Cute.” His nose wiggles one more time before he schools his features as if the word didn’t nearly knock you on your ass. Cute. Cute! He has the audacity to stand here in the middle of the night and call you cute. “Seriously, if you need somewhere to sit down or sleep, there’s a couch in my studio, it’s clean in there, you can-”

“Oh, no! Jungkook,” you blush stupidly at using his name, “I can’t ask you to do that. I’ll just circle back to Yeonjun’s and sleep it off.” The thought makes your stomach churn, the idea of trying to fall asleep in the exact room your almost relationship fell to pieces. Surely the carpet couldn’t be too uncomfortable-

“No, please, I’m offering. You look tired, and if you fought...well, I know how awkward it can be in the morning. Come on.” He walks away before you can protest and some other worldly sense makes you follow him. You never expected to be in this position, but you also never thought that Yeonjun would disappoint you so much. Inside of the partially padded studio is a surprisingly large sofa with a charming patchwork blanket draped over the back. Jungkook stands awkwardly next to his desk and picks at his fingernails as you sit down. You sink in to the couch and instantly feel more comfortable than you have in days, the soft scent of lavender and the warm yellow lights bring you as close to relaxation as you can get.

“I saw him with another girl.” You lose your filter again and Jungkook’s eyes narrow. “He says it wasn’t a date, but he also won’t tell me who she was, and the rest of them all thought he was with me so he’s obviously lying. We aren’t technically dating, so can I even be mad? He’s lying no matter what, and he didn’t even tell me he would be out all day or text me during it. But I also still have three more days to stick out here.” A few hot tears are slipping down your face and you can’t help but feel insecure about them.

Jungkook says nothing of the tears but chews thoughtfully on his thumbnail. He leans his hip against his desk, intimidating and sharp yet soft and handsome and sweet for letting you stay here and spill your anger into his studio. His socked foot taps on the floor in a rhythm unknown to you, and you can’t help but wonder how many people would kill to be in your exact spot. You notice a day-by-day calendar that’s quite a few days behind on his desk, and it makes you smile until he’s moving, lowering himself to the floor just a few inches away from your feet.

His fists clench- subtle enough that you wouldn’t even notice if the room didn’t feel so charged- and as he looks up at you, you see that a look somewhere between anger and pity paints his face. It’s embarrassing to sit here like this, so clearly under his scrutiny with nothing but your pajamas to cover you.

“I’m sorry.” Jungkook finally speaks again and shakes his head so much that a few ebony pieces of hair slip into his eyes in a near-perfect arc. You shrug. “Really, Y/N. I’m sorry. That’s an asshole move, no matter who the other girl is. You don’t deserve to be treated like that, and after all the trouble you put in to come out here and see him-he’s lucky we don’t cross paths often.” He sighs and suddenly he’s sitting next to you on the couch, the weight and heat of his body making the situation that much more real and that much more odd. You must still have unshed tears lining your eyes when you find the courage to look up at him because he frowns. “Please, don’t cry! It’s the first time I’ve ever had a girl in here, and well, it’d be pretty embarrassing if she spends the whole time crying.”

A shit eating grin sprouts on his face as soon as he sees your lips upturn with laughter. It’s hard not to be grateful for the joke, so you laugh and thank him for trying to make you feel better.

“And thanks again, for the place to sleep. Or, try.” You have a feeling that sleep will evade you all night, no matter how cozy the room makes you.

“If you don’t think you’re going to sleep-” Jungkook stands suddenly and rushes over to his desk. When he gets there, he turns his wide desktop computer until it faces the couch and logs in. “Then at least watch some movies! Here,” he puts a wireless keyboard in your lap- “whatever you wanna watch, I have it all.” You hesitate for just a moment and then type in the title of one of your favorite films with seconds to spare before Jungkook throws the patchwork blanket over both of your laps. He sinks back into the couch and you follow his lead, careful to keep a good few inches of space between the two of you because holy shit, you’re sitting next to Jungkook, and holy shit he’s watching a movie with you, and holy shit he just saw you cry and he looks so handsome from the side.

You pay more attention to Jungkook than you do the movie. It’s funny to watch someone who feels so extraordinary do something as normal as watching a movie and realize that he really is human. And the way he crinkles his nose and widens his doe-eyes makes your heart stutter with attraction and then guilt at the thought of Yeonjun, who still makes your palms sweat and your heart shake with anticipation of his touch despite your argument.

But here’s Jungkook, being kind and open and raw and willing to stay up with you on this random sleepless night although you only met by chance mere hours ago. And his kind eyes widen and narrow and crinkle when he laughs at the movie, and he offers you a second blanket and a throw pillow when your eyes get too heavy for you to focus, and you don’t think that you’re imagining things as you feel gentle fingers comb through your hair.

----

Your head feels like it’s filled with cotton when you wake up, confusion soaks your senses as you piece together where you are and how you got there and who’s lap your head is laying in. As if he could read your thoughts, Jungkook lets out a long and loud groan from above you. Clearly he had fallen asleep where he is now, head lolled against the back of the couch and a throw pillow folded between his arms.

“Good morning.” He drawls, voice still deep and thick from slumber. Out of all the things you never thought you would do, waking up to Jungkook is near to the top.

“M-morning.” You manage to call back as you run your hands over your face, hoping to absolve yourself of any evidence of shock. Jungkook’s studio is just as welcoming as it had been to you last night, but now a deep sense of guilt creeps through you. Yeonjun might have woken up by now, maybe he was ready to talk and try to make things better, maybe he’s been calling and texting you and you haven’t seen any of it. Your phone is nowhere to be found as you dig around in the blanket, a noise of distress clawing up the back of your throat. Heart pounding, you put a hand underneath the couch and slide it back and forth until your fingers graze over the cold, hard mass that must be your phone. As soon as it’s in your grasp you can see that the time is just a few minutes past 8am, and that you indeed do have a few texts waiting from Yeonjun.

“Oh, Jungkook, thank you again for-y-you know, but I have to go, do you mind showing me which way to go?” Poor sense of direction had landed you here to begin with, and you wouldn’t let it make this problem any bigger again. Thankfully he doesn’t protest; just waits by the door as you straighten out your pajamas. Out in the hallway, the lights are bright and imposing and you recognize a headache from the late night is starting to creep up behind your eyes. No one really seems to be around to see the two of you, and you are nothing short of grateful for that when Jungkook makes a quick stop and you barrel into his back, face burning with embarrassment. He laughs as you sputter apologizes and wave for him to keep leading the way, but he insists on stopping and turning to face you. His face is puffy with sleep, eyes still scrunching against the lights, but they’re still clear and gentle and it’s hard to miss the teasing twitch of his full lips in such close proximity.

A wave of admiration crashes through you, followed quickly by a sickening feeling of guilt. Yeonjun was probably waiting for you to come talk things out, and here you were drooling over a different boy. “I’m okay, lets keep going.” Urging him on with a gentle push to his muscled back is the most you can do since you still don’t notice anything distinctive to lead you back to the correct dorm. Just a few more steps down the hallway and you can hear voices, overlapping shouts, and one voice you would recognize anywhere coming from the way you were about to turn. Before you even had time to open your mouth to voice your concern to Jungkook, Yeonjun is stomping down the hallway, a panicked looking Taehyun in tow.

His face is draw, sharp features heightened by either confusion or anger- it’s hard to tell- as he realizes who’s standing in front of him. The two boys are fairly evenly matched in height but Yeonjun still squares up, lifting his shoulders higher and craning his neck. You know he knows you’re there; you shared a moment of eye contact in the seconds before he leveled a glare at Jungkook.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Yeonjun spits, anger shaking the fists at his sides. Jungkook is shocked, you can tell even from behind him, the way he recoils just slightly and scoffs as if he can’t believe his ears.

“Look, this doesn’t need to be a fight. I was just helping Y/N get back to your dorm.” You’re amazed at how well he controls his anger, especially after seeing the anger he held back against Yeonjun the night before. You take this as a queue to step out from behind Jungkook’s frame, allowing Yeonjun a better look at you.

“Oh, before or after she spent the night in your studio? Just couldn’t resist giving her a place to stay. Someone to sleep with?” Anger flares in your stomach, lighting a fire underneath your skin.

“What the fuck, Yeonjun? Do you really think that I would-”

“Sleep with him? Of course. Why wouldn’t you? Look at the state of you two, don’t tell me you didn’t fuck.” There was simply no believing what was coming out of his mouth, and his words only made you wish that you had acted on the feelings you felt brewing last night.

“What if I did? You certainly don’t want me! I’m sorry I went looking for companionship somewhere else!” It’s much too quiet in the hallway after that, the only evidence that the world hadn’t stopped turning is Jungkook’s hand that comes up to rest on your shoulder.

“So you did.” Yeonjun rubs his chin, taking a step backwards in what you assume is disbelief. Tears creep into the corners of your eyes, stubbornly burning and forcing you to blink until your vision is blurry. Jungkook says something you don’t quite catch through the static buzzing in your ears. You feel exhausted, weak at the knees with disbelief at just how awful this interaction was going; so lost that it takes Jungkook shaking your shoulder to bring you back to reality.

“Please, I don’t want to talk about this here. Yeonjun, let’s go, please.” You beg, walking toward him before he even responds. The idea of being caught in this odd trifecta made you sweat. Jungkook protests but you wave him off quickly, assuring that there was nothing else he could do. As upset as Yeonjun was, you knew that he would calm down substantially once the older boy was gone.

The walk to the dorm is thankfully short, and Taehyun tries his best at making small talk while Yeonjun trails behind like a petulant child. As soon as you cross into the dorm you feel awkward and hot all over like everyone is watching you even though Taehyun is already disappearing into his room and locking the door while Yeonjun breezes right past you.

“I’m not playing the silent game.” You follow Yeonjun into the kitchen where he has his head buried in the fridge, making a point to rattle every bottle and package inside of it.

“Alright, fine. Then you get to tell me the truth.” His voice is softer now, much less elevated and harsh than it was just minutes before. “Did you spend the night with him?” It rattles your bones to hear the edge of hurt in his voice.

“I was wandering around the building in the middle of the night, and he was too- so I told him what was going on and he offered for me to stay in his studio, on the couch. And I said yes-” Yeonjun’s face crumples. “We watched a movie and I fell asleep.”

“Why didn’t you just come back? I texted you, Y/N. We literally just argued about communication and the first thing you do is run to a different guy? If I’m not good enough for you, just admit it.”

“I could say the same exact thing to you. Why am I here? Should I just book a flight home tonight and call it quits? Do you even want to try this?” Yeonjun cracks open a bottle of water and drinks half in one go, avoiding your gaze at all costs. “And I did nothing with Jungkook. Because I respect you, and whatever the fuck this-” You gesture between the two of you, feet apart, “is. Or was.”

“Don’t say that.” Yeonjun’s voice cracks, reminiscent of the way he used to sound on the phone when he called you at the end of the day. “I- I don’t want to hear you say that. Please.” A tremor of hurt shakes your bones, creates an unpleasant lump in your throat that you try and fail to swallow. Yeonjun appears to you now as similar as he did in your teenage years; uncertain and small and his wide, glassy eyes latching on to you like a lifeline. And you can’t help but remember how you used to be too; devoted to him and naïve about where life was going to take you.

“I don’t want to say it either, Yeonjun. I hate saying it. But we aren’t the same people we were all those years ago. We’re in two different lives, and as much as I want to be able to fit into yours...it’s never going to happen.” Your body weight feels suddenly too much, like you’re being filled with lead and sunk to the bottom of the ocean to be forgotten. Yeonjun finally closes your perpetual gap in a slow gait that seemed like it would last forever. His eyes are red, puffy, rimmed with unshed tears. Dark circles ring his eyes and you know they’re because he probably didn’t sleep last night either. His lips are chapped and dry, pouting in an incurable sadness. Your fingers itch to cup his jaw and litter him with kisses until he finally grins.

“Are you saying you don’t love me?” If any other noise had happened at the same time he spoke, you wouldn’t have heard the question. A stake strikes through your heart at the words, scarring your soul for years to come.

“No, Junnie. I love you so much.” Your bottom lip wobbles and you gasp out a sob, “I just don’t think we’re going to work this time around. We’re both too busy, and on different tracks, and I think we just have to be more r-realistic.” You have to close your eyes, unable to watch the way tears begin to cascade down his own face. “I’m sorry.” You stand alone, still and cold and clamping your eyes shut so hard that they hurt.

Yeonjun’s body molds around your form, tight and warm and shuddering slightly from his own tears. He smells like laundry detergent and musk and you shake with regret as his arms wind around your back and hold you as close to his frame as you think is humanly possible. Your tears soak his crewneck as the fabric scratches your skin. His heart beat is erratic, but you know yours isn’t fairing any better, and you can’t help but curse the universe for bringing you all this way with him just to shoot you back down.

“I’m sorry too. For not being enough.” His words rumble into your hair and you can’t even find the energy to refute them and instead just shake your head. Your head spins in wild circle as Yeonjun finally stops shaking underneath you in favor of cupping your face in tender hands, forcing you to open your eyes. His look felt more intimate than anything else you had shared before; a pure and expressive opening into his most vulnerable form and the knowledge that you were the reason he was feeling it.

“I think I should try to catch an earlier flight home.” You aren’t quite sure exactly why you say it, but Yeonjun doesn’t seem surprised at the notion. After all, there would be nothing to stick around for. He still had to work and you had no relationship left to hang on to. You hadn’t even gotten around to unpacking your suitcase. Yeonjun nods sadly, wiping at a few more tears before clearing his throat. His voice is thick, the evidence of his emotion loud and clear and your heart breaks at the thought of truly walking away from him.

“I’ll miss you, Y/N.” There’s no telling if he would ever contact you after this, or if you would contact him. Maybe the two of you will live with odd shadows of one another in the back of your heads for the rest of your lives- a teenage romance rekindled years later only to explode and crackle and eventually fade into the dark.

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dclsbaby · 4 years ago

Text

tolerate it - Dominic Calvert Lewin 🦋

Summary: despite being in love, you and dom drift apart during a career hiccup and it breaks your heart into tiny little pieces

Word Count: 3.1k

Warnings: angst? pain?

A/N: hi everyone! I took the looongest hiatus known to mankind and I just want to thank everyone who has still stuck by this blog! I haven't written in a while and this isn't by best work but I hope you'll enjoy it anyway! ily!

masterlist

I wake and watch you breathing with your eyes closed

I sit and watch

I notice everything you do or don’t do

Every little thing he does leaves you in awe. The man can’t do no wrong in your eyes. You notice the way he breathes, his little gestures, his subtle movements. Others can envision an entire story just by observing the way he looks at you. As you lay in bed with his body next to yours, his chest rising with every breath taken, you discover a newfound appreciation to add to the list of things you love about him. You have never felt a feeling so intense, so visceral. Love is terrifying, isn’t it? Love often leads to infatuation, and this was no different to you. You wear your heart on your sleeves, feel every emotion, from the exhilarating highs, to the excruciating lows. To be dependent on another human for happiness is a dangerous game. You fear love. And with fear comes paranoia.

It started when your conversations became shorter and shorter by the day. Then, it’s him arriving late from training, to no longer waking you up before he leaves for early morning training. No more forehead kisses when you’re still asleep, no more post-it notes on refrigerator doors telling you he’s made you breakfast, no nothing. Bodies that were once intertwined each night now rest apart with unwanted distance in between. Distance you so wanted to close.

As the weather turned cold, so did he.

I wait by the door like I’m just a kid

Use my best colours for your portrait

Lay the table with fancy shit

And watch you tolerate it

Without fail, you would always wait for him to come home, run to the door when you hear his car pull over on your driveway and leap into his arms the second he steps in your shared home. He would hold you up as your legs wrap around his waist, and whisper “I’ve been waiting to come home to you all day,” in your ear. A memory you long to relive.

You knew he had been struggling, coping with a plateau in his career, playing less and less, becoming a resident of the substitution bench. It hurt you to see him hurt, but it also pained you that he did not turn to you for comfort. “Nothing is wrong,” he says, over and over. Lies, you thought. You know him better than anyone else. So you try and convince him that he could trust you, and that keeping it all in would only make it worse. I mean you would know, as you have been suppressing so much pain this whole time. But he wins this battle yet again, and with his ego intact, he shrugs it off, ignores his frustration, and pushes you away.

While you were out building other worlds, where was I?

Where’s that man who’d throw blankets over my barbed wire?

I made you my temple, my mural my sky

Now I’m begging for footnotes in the story of your life

As months passed by, you were no longer his live-in partner, but a stranger he has to coexist with, leaving you lonely each night as he drifted off to sleep inches away from you. Even then your love for him is still as potent, as strong. Your loyalty is a crime.

Your efforts to make him feel better never ceased, as you continue cooking him his favourite meals after training, helping him pack his bags the night before he leaves for international duty, doing household chores so he never had to bother with them after coming home from an exhausting day, making playlists of songs you think he’d like, and putting movies and tv series you know he would enjoy in his Netflix list.

You would do anything for some form of acknowledgement.

You would do anything to bring back those first two years back.

You would do anything for a simple touch, a hug, an embrace.

You would do anything for… something.

Everything you did, you did for him. Every thought that passes your mind, involves him.

It’s just a phase. It’s just a phase. You try to convince yourself. That’s a lie, another subconscious voice says.

---

It was the night before the Merseyside derby, which happens to be the final match of the season. The most anticipated match of the year. The perfect match. The match that determines if Everton is crowned Premier League champions. Half of the city at war with the other half. Two colours, two clubs with a historic rivalry battle it out on the pitch once again.

He was nervous, you could tell. You catch him playing with his food and struggle to finish his meal as he was sick to his stomach. After months of hate comments, online trolling, and being subject to pundits’ criticism, this was the perfect match to prove all the doubters that he is worthy of wearing his blue jersey. He spent several more minutes tossing pieces of food with his fork until he got up, placed his plate on the sink, and made his way up the stairs to sleep. No “see you upstairs”, or a last goodbye before he sleeps. You had to resist every temptation to start a fight and argue that you deserve more than silence. But you knew how important tomorrow’s occasion is, and decided against it.

Shortly after you make your way into your bedroom. He was curled on the edge of the bed, eyes closed, bedroom lights dimmed. You go to your shared bathroom, take what’s left of your makeup off, and get ready for bed. You stare at yourself in the mirror. Darkened under eyes, lips cracked down the middle. You were dehydrated, tired, exhausted, and looked almost ghastly. Turns out having a broken heart does have implications on your vanity. How much longer can I do this? You thought. You felt pathetic, feeling sorry for yourself. You exhale a deep sigh and make your way back into the bedroom, joining him in bed. As you settle on the bed, you turn your body away from him, and tug the duvet your way, curling into a fetal position and tuck yourself in, and drift off to sleep.

All of a sudden, you hear sounds of shifting sheets, the bed slightly moving with every turn he makes. You could tell he was awake. You knew the events of tomorrow are playing on his mind and making him lose sleep. With only a little hesitation, you extend an arm and rest your hand on his back, causing him to shudder a little. Your touch had stopped the shifting and brought him comfort he did not know he needed. Not long after, you could hear soft snores from his side of the bed.

---

You woke up to an empty bed, which was not unusual. You forgive him though, since it is a big day and he probably had to tune into the game day mentality early in the morning.

You watch the game from home and stare at the TV screen as the cameras zoom into Dom, his face serious, ready to fight it out on the pitch. Since the second the referee blew the first while, it had already gotten intense. Both teams began attacking from the get-go, a handful of chances created even though it’s barely been a quarter of an hour.

Minutes passed, and yellow cards have been handed out for several players. Every spectator in different time zones all glued to their screens, all on the edge of their seats until half-time. The camera catches a glimpse of him walking off the pitch. He looked angry and frustrated, you could tell. He was responsible for most of the chances created during the game, though he couldn’t seem to poach one in.

Ben had made a long pass that Dom couldn’t quite convert into a goal.

Lucas had delivered a stunning, almost perfect cross that landed on Dom’s head, but it went wide.

Richy had attempted a shot on his own, which pissed Dom off.

It’s all square at half-time, but football is a game of two halves, and to decide which side of the city will celebrate tonight is determined by the next 45 minutes at least.

Every player is now back on the pitch, ready to give it their all.

10 minutes in, it’s long balls and defending, the opposition giving no room to maneuver through the box. That is until Lucas passed another strikingly accurate cross.

“MISS AGAIN! How could he have missed a cross like that a second time?”

“Everton’s number 9 squashes an open goal opportunity, what a shame, that.”

“He’s going to hate himself for that,”

“He already does, Calvert-Lewin looks like he’s about to see red.”

You listen to the commentators as they describe Dom’s frustration. You watch with anxiety, occasionally scrolling through your phone to avoid the intensity.

---

Into the final minute of the game 90+3. Still all square at the Goodison. It’s now or never.

“Free kick!”

“The free-kick will be done 20 yards off the goal post.”

“This could be the last chance of the game!”

“It’s been decided that Sigurdsson will take the free kick, Calvert-Lewin leaps into the air, ball’s on his head—GOAL!!!”

And just like that, in the final minute of the game, his team clinches the winner, and your man is hailed the hero of the night.

You watch the screen as the referee blows the final whistle of the game, Dom doing sprints around the pitch with his teammates, bodies jumping on each other, veins popping through every neck, roars of exhilaration filling the open air as Everton is calculated to win the league.

You watch him immerse himself in the exhilaration of crowning his team champions of the Premier League. The blue confetti rained over the stadium in the crisp yet comfortable afternoon air, cheering noises blasting through the speakers. You watch the screen zoom into the love of your life, or was. You see his perfectly chiseled face, those bright green eyes, brunette locks still perfectly put together even after a hard-fought game, his sweet smile warming your heart. Your eyes glued to the screen as your man is hailed a hero, and feel an overwhelming sense of pride.

Though not even the cheering and happy faces on TV could distract you from the churning feeling in your stomach. It’s a feeling you can’t quite pinpoint. Is it confusion? Anger? Happiness? You don’t even know.

You’re happy for him, truly. But you can’t seem to shake the fact that it took him being distant from you, and completely ignoring your existence to get his head back in the game. It’s like you and football were mutually exclusive, and he can’t focus on both things he loves most at the same time. You weren’t going to make him choose either.

---

He didn’t come home that night, and you saw it coming. You knew he was going to go out with his teammates, and rightfully so, they achieved a massive milestone after all. But it bothered you that he didn’t say anything, no texts, no voicemails, nothing to tell you of his whereabouts. You thought he would at least change after all that success, but still nothing. Everything is going to stay the same, isn’t it? You thought.

The next morning you wake up to an empty bed. Again. Totally expected. You reach out for your phone and see 10 missed calls from your best friend and several text messages with picture attachments. You were not prepared for what you were about to see.

Attached were pictures of him in a club with his teammates, pictured awfully close to a woman you don’t recognise. He was smiling and looked happy. You can’t remember the last time he looked like that, or even smiled at you. You haven’t even stood as close as they way that woman is in his space, for months. He hasn’t looked at you the way he’s looking at her in those pictures for months.

You felt sick. Your mind is racing. Your heart feels like it’s about to fall out of your chest. You wanted to cry and scream but nothing came out. Total silence. Pure shock. You had no tears left to cry, as you wasted it all from crying yourself to sleep just inches away from the man who broke your heart every day.

Should I have seen it coming? Has he been going out with her for months? When did it start? You try to remember every single detail over the past few months. Every single pain, every single action that you could have overlooked.

---

By the afternoon, you’ve already spent hours sitting on your bed, staring at the pictures sent to you. More links have appeared as gossip sites picked up on the story.

“Dominic Calvert-Lewin celebrates historic Merseyside win with a mystery girl who is not his missus”

“Everton Hero – Also a Cheat”

“Cursed WAGs – DCL celebrates PL win with mystery woman as his missus is MIA”

The more you read these news outlets, the number you feel. The whole of England knows your dirty laundry, you felt like a fool.

You were done.

Drawing hearts in the byline

Always taking up too much space or time

You assume I’m fine, but what would you do if I…

Break free and leave us in ruins

Took this dagger in me and removed it

Gain the weight of you, then lose it

Believe me I could do it

Shortly after you hear keys rattling downstairs, followed by the sound of doors shutting. You hear footsteps walking up the stairs, and you mentally prepare to see his face. You still don’t know how you’re going to react, not until you see him.

As he steps into the doorframe, he sees your bloodshot eyes and stops in his tracks.

“So, I presume you’ve seen what’s being said about me,” he moans.

“Yeah, yeah I’ve seen,” you shrug.

“It’s absolutely ridiculous isn’t it, shouldn’t believe everything you say,” he says.

“-is it though? Is it absolutely ridiculous that what they say could be true?” you cross your arms.

“Of course, it is! What are you even saying?” he says, offended.

“I’m saying that I have spent months slaving for you, putting you before myself without getting anything in return! I’m saying that I have been so miserable in this sad excuse of a relationship, holding onto the last memory of when you last said you loved me which was months ago! I’m saying that it would not be so unbelievable if you had been cheating on me, and that I had to find out from some tabloids!”

“If you had been so miserable then why didn’t you say anything? You could have said something if you’ve been so unhappy!” Dom yells.

“Because I have been tiptoeing around you! Afraid of saying the wrong things to set you off, I did not want to be a burden during a time when I know you’re struggling,” you sigh.

Dom’s body nearly goes limp after hearing your confession.

“I put you before myself over and over again for the past year, and you have the nerve to assume I’m fine? Fine with what? Being ignored? Being second best? You don’t know what that does to a person,” you cry.

“Do you regret it?” he asks with tears in his eyes. “Do you regret me?” he looks at you.

“No, Dom. No, I don’t. I don’t regret you because I’ve spent the last few months giving it my all to a relationship on the brink of ruins. I never gave up on you, and I never gave up on our love, or what’s left of it,” you sigh. “Deep down, I think I knew that I deserved more than a pathetic excuse of a career hiccup, but I was prepared to stand by you through it all,” you break into cries. “My love was strong enough to ignore every warning sign, strong enough to mute fire alarm bells ringing in my head, alerting me to leave a relationship where I was no longer appreciated,” you rest your head on your hand. “Maybe we’re all allotted a certain amount of fight to give per love, and today… Today I ran out,” look up at him.

“Don’t fucking say that. Do not say that. I am not done fighting for this relationship, I know I fucked up! You don’t think I know that? I will fix everything, you don’t have to do anything, let me do everything I will fix us!” Dom begs.

“There’s no fixing us. It takes two people to fix a relationship, I learned that the hard way and I singlehandedly attempted to piece us back together only for you to break through what I’ve built and held together with my bare fucking hands,” you say as you wipe your tears away.

Dom drops to the floor as he could no longer stand the pain he feels from what you’ve just said.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I-I don’t know what to say,” he pleads

“If it took you this long, and if it took me standing here yelling at you for you to regret what you did then we are past the point of fixing,”

“You know what football means to me, I felt stuck, everything that I had dreamed of as a kid was slowly fading, I couldn’t bear it,” Dom reasons.

“I would never get in between you and football. I would never have even considered making you choose, Dom. I would have done absolutely anything for you, anything, you said. “I just needed you to tell me what the hell is going on so I could have helped you. I did not deserve to be swept under the rug, to be left feeling useless, while you were out doing god knows what with god knows who after training every. Single. Day.”

“Are you implying that I cheated on you?! That I, me – someone you’ve known for years, is cheating on you?”

If it’s all in my head, tell me now

Tell me I’ve got it wrong somehow

“Go on then! Tell me I’m making all of this up in my head. Tell me that I am not wrong to assume such insane thoughts, tell me that it is so beyond the realm of possibility that you could ever be unfaithful.”

Dom stayed silent.

You simply nodded and picked up your belongings, ready to leave.

“Nothing happened. I swear,” he pleaded.

“Your silence was enough,

Goodbye.”

I know my love should be celebrated

But you tolerate it

#dominic calvert lewin #dominic calvert lewin imagine #dominic calvert lewin imagines #football imagine #dclsbaby #everton fc

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aetheternity · 4 years ago

Text

Hard pass 2 (Levi x Reader)

I'm a little concerned about how little time I took on the ending for the last part so I'm gonna put a little more time into this one. Hope you guys enjoy. :)

Synopsis: Levi is forced out of his comfy dorm room and in a strange twist of events right into your arms at a college party.

Levi was transfixed to say the least. He'd spent the past hour that he'd been back in his dorm room staring into a freshly made cup of black tea. The small jingling of keys in the door shaking him from his daze.

"Hello, Hello Leviathan." Mike greeted, tossing his bag to the side haphazardly.

Any other time Levi would've rolled his eyes but he just let out an agitated huff.

"Uh oh.. I know that look." Mike announced plopping down onto his unmade bed. "Who's the lucky girl?" He asked his smirk bright.

Levi's hair whipped against his cheek as he turned to Mike. "What are you on about? Who told you?" Probably Hange. Damn four eyes could never keep her mouth shut.

"No one had to." Mike laughed "You've just told me basically everything I need to know. Your distracted gaze when I came in the room, having very little reaction to me calling you Leviathan, your tea cup is still full and my side of the room is still messy." He seemed a little too pleased about that last bit.

"I know you went out tonight." He continued

"And what about it?"

"Who is she?!" Mike stood coming closer to sit on the edge of Levi's desk.

Levi rolled his eyes setting his cup down.

"Come on, I'm curious about some mysterious girl that has Levi Ackerman wrapped around her finger."

"Just shut up already." Levi replied turning his gaze to the window with a small pout.

"Fine, fine I'll shut up." Mike stood heading back towards his side of the room. An idea suddenly popped into his mind and he turned on his heel. "But.. I think I'll give Hange a call. You know.. cause I haven't talked to her in a bit-"

"When did you become so annoying?" Levi grumbled

"You're more aggressive tonight I like it. Is it because of her?"

As much as Levi wanted to fight it, Mike was one of those people that always got information about literally anything if he genuinely wanted it. Even if he didn't find out from Hange or Levi he was definitely going to find out from even the weirdest sources.

"Hange's friend.. she's not ugly I guess.." Levi could feel his face growing warm and he pulled his feet up onto his desk chair to hide it.

Mike laughed obnoxiously, "It's like watching a little kid finding out what a crush is." He chuckled "Super cute. So when are you going to ask her out?"

"Never."

Mike crossed the room again, seating himself on his bed. "You can't be serious! This is the first time I've ever seen you interested in girls and you're just gonna let her get away?"

"Stay out of my business, Michelangelo."

Mike just huffed reaching into his pocket to pry his phone out of his pocket. The room quickly grew quiet as Levi turned to his laptop though he was quickly distracted again by Mike's little chuckles. He turned his head in Mike's direction quickly catching the other male's gaze.

"By the way, Hange agrees with me." He said pointing to his phone.

Levi groaned, tugging at his hair. "Eat shit."

~ ~ ~ ~

Levi stared down at his watch with a soft tch.

It was 4pm and Hange was late again. He turned to Erwin who's face was currently pressed into a book. Thumb sliding along the sentences as he read.

"Where the hell is she?" He grumbled, shaking his mouse back and forth as the screen began to dim.

"She said she had to do something after class so she'd be a little late." Erwin replied, without looking up from his book.

"That's her excuse every time." Levi replied with a roll of his eyes.

Erwin just shrugged. Hange was always late. Sometimes she just showed up 30 minutes late with no real explanation and sometimes she showed up an hour late saying she had, had something to do after class. But every time the three of them got together to study she was late.

"Yo! Levi!" Hange greeted as she walked into the library ignoring the chorus of shushing that followed her.

Levi's scowl deepened, "Were you stuck on the toilet waiting for someone to fuck off?" He asked

"I have a great surprise follow me." She clapped in delight.

Erwin looked to Levi and then in the direction Hange had left in. He slowly pushed his chair out looking at Levi's irritated scowl.

"Are you coming."

"Whatever it is, is definitely stupid knowing Hange." Levi retorted, packing his belongings up in an orderly fashion.

The two of them quickly left before Hange could come back to ruin the peace again. They pushed through the library doors and standing against the wall with a somewhat bashful expression was Y/N with Hange who smiled brightly as if she wasn't currently disturbing Levi's peace.

"Oh hello Y/N." Erwin greeted, he looked over at Levi before asking. "What are you doing here?"

"Oh well Hange invited-"

"Ah ha ha! Y/N has homework to do so I figured she could come study with us. Though today me and Erwin have a thing." She quickly grabbed Erwin's arm yanking him over to her.

"But I was-" Erwin tried but was instantly silenced by Hange's hand over his mouth.

"You and Levi can study. Levi's great with everything! Right Levi? Ok me and Erwin will go now, by you two!"

"Hange!" Levi tried, his face already flushed with heat over the whole situation. Hange was surprisingly fast though, managing to drag Erwin away so quick they were a couple of dots within seconds.

Levi and Y/N stood in silence for a couple seconds before Y/N let out a deep exhale. "I feel as though we've been set up." She says, toying with the zippers on her back.

Levi can only manage a grunt in reply. Not daring to look into her eyes. "Well I mean.." she starts turning to Levi. "I actually do.. have to study so.. I wouldn't mind if you don't." She shrugged

"Mm.." Levi pulled open the library door for Y/N and lead her over the seats that him and Erwin had been sitting in only moments before.

He made a mental note as he opened his laptop again to keep the door locked next time Hange said she was coming over. Around 10 minutes went by of complete silence and Levi was incredibly happy for it.

Not because he was focusing, no his attention had been completely taken away from any possible work he could've gotten done here. There was no way he was actually going to be able to do anything when your scent was trapped in his nose and his eyes kept staring over his screen at your fingers.

Knuckles that Levi honestly wanted to kiss and fingernails completely devoid of dirt which Levi was instantly captivated by.

"Hey-"

He sat up straight, his own hands slightly curling around the aged wood of the table. Your book came sliding toward him and he looked down at it before looking back at you.

"I don't really get this? Could you help me a bit?"

Levi nodded before his brain could properly process what you'd asked. He almost thought he imagined the way your lip tucked itself under your teeth. And he felt dazed as your scent washed over him all at once as you slid into the seat next to him.

You pointed to your book and Levi tried to pay attention to your question but your notes threw him a bit. All the words were written in different colors and there were squiggly lines around definitions and texts. Small doodles between paragraphs as a way to properly space them and stars next to the most important words.

You scratched at your scalp and he took notice. "I paid attention when my professor was going over this I swear. But I don't really get it?? It can't be as difficult as I'm making it in my head." Your giggle of nervousness took Levi back a little.

The warm pit in his chest deepened and he sighed, trying to accurately assess the situation.

"Y-you made a small.. mathematical error." He explained, his fingers pointed to the equation as he tried to push away the ball in his throat. "You don't need these numbers."

Her smile hit Levi like a truck as it was instantly directed towards him. "Ah, you're so smart." Y/N said "What about this? I checked with the calculator but my answer was way off."

It was hard for Levi to ignore the way your shoulder rubbed up against his sending sparks all through his body like a tidal wave. It was honestly a little overwhelming.

"Oh sorry, am I too close?" You moved away and Levi gulped. He stared at your fingers, he didn't want you to move away.

He was surprised when he looked up and instantly made eye contact with you. "Stay." It probably didn't come out the way he'd wanted but he'd managed it and on some level he was proud of himself.

You smiled, "Sure."

After a while Levi felt himself loosen up a bit but the knot in his stomach was still very much there and alive. He found himself chuckling at your little jokes and he was mostly able to look you in the eyes. (As long as you didn't smile directly at him).

The first hour had been studying with small quips from your end that Levi found he enjoyed. Though around the third hour it turned into horror stories about present and past roommates.

Your laugh was so bright as you tapped your pen cap against the table. "And then Sasha just cracks the window open though it's definitely too late cause Connie had already created a war zone in our room." You were shaking so much from laughter that Levi was honestly a little worried you'd fall out of your chair.

He shook his head where he was resting it in his palm. "I still think Mike forgetting the do not disturb sign was worse." He shrugged

"Mm well maybe someday I'll have a story that bad. Considering Connie and Sasha have been playing a dangerous game of cat and mouse for two years now."

Levi shook his head. "You don't want to walk in on your roommate having sex. No one does.."

He felt his cheeks flush over again. Whether it was from the story or the way you'd playfully pushed his shoulder though he couldn't tell. He watched as you positioned yourself back in the seat next to him.

"Ok, ok. You told me about your roommates relationships. Now tell me about yours."

"What?"

Y/N playfully rolled her eyes. "You know the in and out of Levi. I'm curious."

Levi's gaze fell to the table. "There's nothing to tell."

Y/N's voice immediately softened. "Sorry, didn't mean to try and pull it out of you."

Levi picked up his head closing his laptop. "I-I just.. never felt that way.." he tried

"Not everyone goes to college and high school and stuff for the parties, drugs and sex." You said, laying your elbows against the desk. "I commend you for having a goal and sticking with it."

Levi's heart stuttered at your words. "Did you come.. or well.. umm? What did you-"

He was interrupted by your hand on his shoulder again. "To answer your question." You leaned in closer your breath tickling Levi's earlobe. "Yes I did come specifically for the drugs."

Levi's eyes practically bulged out of his head. This time when you laughed you were met with shushing and stares. "Sorry." You whispered, popping a hand over your mouth. "I'm completely joking." You then said to Levi who's shoulders relaxed with the information.

Levi's signature deadpanned expression was starting to make an appearance now. "That's not funny."

"Hmm.. well I'm laughing so." Y/N laid her head on the table.

"Your humor is shit." He said

"Funny you say that." She laughed back a smirk was playing at Levi's lips. "Hey." Y/N broke the lingering silence.

"What?"

"Give me your number."

"Tch, nice way to ask."

Y/N pretended to be shocked. "Oh, would you prefer I beg?"

Levi already knew how red his entire face had become. No need to check a mirror. "H-hand me your p-phone."

Unsurprisingly even her phone wa as cute. And Levi honestly wanted to admire the case and how warm it felt after being in your pockets. Oh.. you'd touched it with your warm hands. Levi couldn't help but think about how warm your hands must feel. How the spaces between your fingers looked so perfect. Like they-

"Hey." A voice shook Y/N and Levi.

"Jean, what're you doing here?" Y/N asked as she stood moving closer to him.

"You've been gone all day. I had to ask Sasha where you were."

"No, you didn't because you didn't need to come here." Y/N crossed her arms over her chest, pulling her hands into the sleeves of her hoodie. Her eyebrows scrunched together.

"Who's this?" Jean asked gesturing to Levi with his head. Levi felt his chest flare a little.

"Ugh, it doesn't matter because it has nothing to do with you!" She quickly grabbed her bag stuffing her notebook inside. "I'll talk to you later Levi." She explained her face still completely unamused. And with that she was pushing Jean out the door following him right out.

Levi's fingers dug into his palm. Who was that? It couldn't have been her boyfriend right? No, no that didn't make sense.

He started to pack up himself when he noticed your pretty phone sat next to his ordinary black one.

~ ~ ~ ~

Levi practically slammed into his dorm room scaring Mike who had his music blasting. Levi set his bag down on his chair, placing his phone on the desk.

"Hey man." Mike greeted as Levi quickly unpacked his other stuff. "I heard Hange forced you to go on a study date."

"I'm going to murder her." Levi turned, practically slamming his notebook into the desk. So hard that he could've sworn Mike jumped.

"Yeah what else is new?" He laughed trying to clear the air. "But did you at least get in close?"

Levi rolled his eyes. "She's.. there's this guy.."

Mike grew quiet for a few seconds. "You think she's with him?"

Levi normally wouldn't indulge Mike like this but his chest felt so tight that he was pretty sure he was going to burst. "She didn't seem happy to see him. She was like rolling her eyes when he came."

"Maybe he's just some guy then?"

"What if he isn't?"

"By the way you're describing it they'll break up soon anyway." Mike said "But that's great my plan worked."

Levi narrowed his eyes, "The library thing was you?"

Mike shrugged, "Hey, It could've been worse! Hange wanted to lock you guys in a supply closet for the night."

"Sleep with one eye open." Levi huffed, placing your phone down on his desk.

Mike immediately noticed, sitting up and placing his own phone to the side. "Don't tell me you murdered her and stole her phone for having a boyfriend that wasn't you." He chuckled

"Tch, she accidentally left it."

"How are you gonna return it?"

"I'll ask Hange for her dorm number tomorrow and I'll hand it over then."

"Ooo, well I would tell you not to go looking through her phone while you have it. But you're not like me so.." Mike shrugged, laying down with both hands holding his phone above his head.

Levi looked at Mike and then at your phone sitting on his desk. He silently looked away, putting away the rest of his stuff with a huff.

#shingeki no kyoujin levi #levi ackerman x reader #levi x reader #levi aot #levi x y/n #levi x you #aot x reader #attack on titan headcanons #attack on titan #shingeki no kyoujin x reader #shingeki no kyoujin imagine #attack on titan imagine

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fullmarvelheart · 4 years ago

Text

Crossing Lines (3/?)

Pairing: mob!Bucky x fbi!mob!Reader

Word Count: 2,601

Recommended: 18+ readers

Summary: A sudden and unsettling event rocks the underworld, and Y/N is immediately called in to prepare for what’s to come. What she isn’t prepared for is James Buchanan “Bucky” Barnes, also known as the new head of the Brooklyn mafia clan. When these two get shoved into a world of danger and deceit, will they ever learn to trust each other? Or will they be doomed from the start?

Warnings: Blood, gore, violence, angst, swearing, implied torture, kidnapping, suggested smut, mentions of familial loss

A/N: Ok, so I’m a bit nervous for this one, but I’m just happy I was able to get it out today. Now, to start packing so I can get back to my college! All mistakes are my own. The GIF is not mine, so credit goes to the original creator!

Series Masterlist

Two days after I had barged into my father’s home, my phone rings, and I stupidly answer without checking the caller ID first. If my father knew, he’d have my head for being careless.

“Y/L/N here.”

“You need to come in as soon as possible.” Coulson’s voice sounds serious, and I straighten up instinctually. “Fury has requested you.”

“On my way.” I tell him before hanging up. A quick message to my bodyguards later and all four of us are piling into the car. Hunter gives me a small glare as he moves into the driver seat. I smirk back.

“See, Hunter. You’re driving me. Don’t look so upset about it now.” He sends me another glare that has me chuckling, easing the prickle of nerves that rests under my skin.

During the drive to the estate, I find myself zoning out. The moment I step out of this car, the moment that a plan I’m not entirely aware of will fall into action. A feeling in my gut settles heavily and some part of me knows my hands are going to get dirty soon.

Like usual, we pull in front of the stairs leading into the estate, and my guards escort me in. Once I’m in, I’m led the familiar path towards my father’s office. Three out of four of my group stop where the other guards are posted, and I head through the door. I falter slightly, seeing both my siblings, Hill, Coulson, and my father but continue on just as quickly.

“You have a way in.” Fury starts, not wasting time, while also pushing a thin file towards the edge of his desk. I grab it and flip it open. “Your team will stay here during your assignment. Hill will drive you to where your vehicle will be, your new identity is in the glove compartment. Once you leave the premises, you won’t be able to have any contact with anyone in the Clan. I thought you’d like to see the twins again before you left.” I give him an appreciative nod, keeping myself firmly planted where I stand so I don’t run to my sister and brother.

“Who’s he?” I ask, in reference to the man in the folder.

“A known HYDRA affiliate. Your way in is capturing him and delivering him onto the Barnes territory. Oh, and they just want him alive when you get there. Better for information.” I smirk slightly. There it is.

I look over the file again, memorizing everything about this guy, before I close it back up.

“Can I say my goodbyes, now?” I ask with a slight hitch in my voice.

That’s all Wanda needs to hear before she’s sprinting over to me. I stumble slightly when she reaches me, then lock her into a tight embrace. I feel a third party join the hug and move to let Pietro in as well. It’s not long before I feel the chill of tears seeping through my shirt. The sting of fresh tears burns my nose, and I will them not to fall.

“Please, be careful.” Pietro practically begs. In order not to start sobbing, I can only nod into his chest.

I eventually push myself away with a shaky breath. “I will try my best. Promise me you two will stay safe.”

“It’s not us,” Wanda sniffs, drying underneath her eyes. “That you should be worried about.”

I give her a sad smile before it suddenly drops and I’m looking between them. “Promise me. I need you to promise me you’ll be ok.” I whimper as a single tear rolls down my face. The reality of what is being asked of me comes crashing down and I need to make sure I don’t worry about them. I need to know my little siblings will be safe from HYDRA.

“Promise.” Pietro and Wanda whisper sadly with tears streaming down their faces.

I nod while drying my face before looking directly at Maria.

“Hill.” I start, masking my vulnerability. She nods once in acknowledgement. “I assume there is a bag with my necessities for this mission.”

“Yes, and the Barnes family also has some things for you on arrival.”

“Then let’s go.”

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

A semi-long trip, an outfit change, and an equipment exchange later, and I’m on my way to some second-rate club on the outskirts of NYC. When I pull in, I’m not shocked when I find the parking lot mostly empty. After coming to a stop, I run through the mental file I have on this guy.

Target: Ian Quinn (with his brown hair and smug smile I memorized from his photo) Occupation: Disgraced billionaire, but still has money. Is believed to be working with HYDRA for extra money as well as to help his business; has most likely been given access to classified info Location: Club Atlas, low security on premises, cameras only at the front entrance and boss’ office door Other: Seemingly a sucker for a damsel in distress

I groan to myself as I throw the car door open. My simple black heels, with one strap over my toes and the other around the ankle, click on the asphalt as I fall into the role of the meek and timid persona I am adopting for this part of my op.

I try to tug the dress down as I walk closer to the bouncer, making me seem uncomfortable. He eyes me skeptically before asking for my ID. I pull out a fake and hand it to him. With only a quick glance, he nods then motions for me to head on in. I slowly walk across the sticky floor as I make my way towards the bar. The bass of the music send strong vibrations into my ears that seem to resonate through the rest of my body. The few patrons that are here either sit at the booths lining the walls or writhe on the tiny dancefloor. However, Quinn is nowhere to be found.

I adjust my dress again once I reach the bar, then continue looking around.

“Can I help you, little girl?” The bartender asks in a condescending tone.

Yeah, I’ll take a glass of the fuck off, please. “Oh! I- uh- I wa-.”

“Is Mikey giving you a hard time?”

I turn around with wide and fearful eyes to meet two blue ones. Ian Quinn.

“I-I, no! No, I was just startled is all.” He smiles softly but with a twinkle in his eye that unnerves me. I turn back to the bartender. “I’ll just have some tonic water with a lime for now, please. I’m just waiting for someone.” I tell him softly even though I want to punch the sneer he gives me right off.

“So...” Quinn says grabbing my attention. “Who are you waiting on?”

“Oh, uh, I was supposed to meet a date here that I met online. But, uh, this isn’t how he described the place.” I chuckle shyly.

“Well, until they get here, why don’t I keep you company.” He states with a smug grin. It wasn’t a question.

I giggle, my fingers tucking on a loose strand of hair. “That’d be fine.”

“My names Ian. Ian Quinn.”

“The billionaire?” I question with a gasp of awe that I force out of my mouth. “I can’t believe it. I’m Rissa.”

We shake hands before my drink is placed in front of me. After 30 odd minutes of Quinn talking about himself and flirting, I glance at my phone and sigh.

“Ya know. I don’t think he’s coming after all.” I mutter sadly.

“I’m sorry, Rissa.” Quinn says with concern, though I’m sure it’s just an act. “You don’t deserve to be stood up like that.”

I hum thoughtfully. “Ian, I don’t usually do stuff like this but there seems to be no point in us just sitting here. Would you, I don’t know, possibly, want to come to my place? It’s, uh, it’s not far from here.”

He smiles. “I’d love that, Rissa.”

I smile back, ignoring the bile rising in my throat. We pay for our separate tabs before I’m leading the man to my car. He closes the passenger door and I turn towards him. He faces me with a flirty smile before leaning in for a kiss, only faltering when he feels a prick on his neck. Before he can understand what’s happening, he’s slumped forward in the seat.

“Thank fuck.” I breathe out, pocketing the needle, before driving off.

I’m able to find a rather vacant one-star motel and get a room for one night. Luckily, it’s on the ground floor making it easier for me to drag Quinn in without causing any raised eyebrows. I hastily change out of my dress and heels into a pair of jeans, a tank top, my leather jacket, and some combat boots. I give myself a once over before I hear a faint groan come from the bathroom.

I smirk then throw the duct tape and zip ties I had taken out once I got Quinn into the room, tossing them into my backpack. At the sound of another soft groan, I saunter my way to the bathroom.

Ian Quinn is barely regaining consciousness from his place in the bathtub. My eyes glance over his ankles, five layers of duct tape and two zip ties binding them together. I used two layers of duct tape and a zip tie to bind his wrists behind his back so he can’t try to escape. Not to mention the duct tape I put over his mouth.

“Morning, sweetie.” I chirp as his eyes begin to flutter open. “We have a lot of work in store for us. Well, for me. Bet this isn’t what you had in mind.” I smirk down at him, well Rissa does.

Quinn starts squirming while attempting to glare at me, eyes still half-closed because of the drug I gave him.

“You can’t get out of this.” I purr, sensually dragging my finger down the side of his face. “I want an in. And you, you’re how I get it. And don’t take this too personally, you were just the easiest of HYDRA’s scum. Still important though.” His brows furrow as he thinks over the information I just gave him. Good, that’s the point.

While he’s distracted, I pull out my switchblade.

“Now. They just need you alive.” I quip, flicking the knife open. “Not unharmed. And don’t worry, I won’t let you die. Not yet, at least.”

His eyes widen in fear right before I’m digging my blade into his side. The duct tape muffles his screams as the blood drips into the bathtub.

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

I take a big gulp of the coffee I had purchased through a drive through, glaring at the sunlight. I really do hate pulling all-nighters.

I cross the line of my father’s territory and take a deep breath. There’s no turning back now. As I inch across the Brooklyn Bridge, No Limits by Zayde Wølf plays through my speakers. While the lyrics only sort of apply to my situation, the beat is enough to keep me awake as I inch through traffic. Well, maybe it’s the double shot of espresso I had added to my coffee.

The occasionally soft thumping of an item, or person, shifting in my trunk is enough to assure me he hasn’t escaped. Though, I doubt he could, especially with the drugs running through his system at the moment.

The neighborhoods are bright and lively as I drive by, but I keep my guard up. I cannot get caught now, I’d receive no help if that was the case.

Following my father’s directions, I eventually pull in front of a warehouse. The second I get out, five armed members of the clan approach me.

“Who the fuck are you?” One asks, pulling the cigarette from his mouth.

“I’m here to speak with your boss. I have something that is of interest to him.” I tell them as I cautiously round my car.

“You don’t deal with the boss man. You deal with us.” Another pipes in, giving me a slow once over. I resist the urge to shudder or punch him.

“What’s goin’ on here.” Another man walks out of the warehouse. His blond hair is pulled into a half-ponytail while the rest brushes his shoulders. I note that he’s slightly taller than Steve is, if I recall, and has a slightly broader build.

“I’m here to speak with Barnes.” His men all stiffen at the mention of his name. “I have a gift for him.”

“Show me.” Blonde says. I shake my head.

“It’s for your boss, only.”

With an annoyed snort, blonde turns around with a shake of his head. “Your funeral.” I hear him mutter as he walks in, causing the men to chuckle.

A few minutes later, I lean on the side of my car with my arms crossed, tired of having to wait. Five minutes later and I get annoyed.

The doors finally open as a flood of people I don’t recognize walk out of the building. Sam and Steve follow. The group causally surrounds me as I hold my place against my car, showing I’m not intimidated. The two men I know stop closely in front of me.

“You have some nerve, I’ll tell you that.” Sam quips before movement behind him catches my attention.

“Some nerve indeed.” Barnes adds. I give him a smug smile. “I hear you have something for me.”

“Something or someone.” I state as I push off my car.

The men immediately go ridged, watching every step I take towards my trunk. Barnes follows me with his eyes. Blonde stops me before I throw the trunk open and does so himself. His eyes widen when he sees my gift. Rolling my eyes, I push past him and drag a semi-conscious Quinn out of the car. I pull him to his feet and walk him forwards before throwing him down in front of Barnes. James’ eyes rake over the blood-stained clothes, and the cuts and bruises on his face.

“Ian Quinn.” I start. “Known HYDRA affiliate who’s been able to pay off any arrest warrant issued. He’s said to have been in contact with the top brass as he’s been a critical part in their financial endeavors.”

“So why give him to me?” Barnes questions skeptically.

“I’ve heard what they did to your father and I knew if I had any chance of being able to take them down with any help, it would be with you and your clan.”

“And why would you want to be part of the Clan?” Steve pipes up.

“HYDRA killed my parents in cold blood. I want every single one of them to rot six feet under.” I tell them, maintaining the cover Fury gave me, though there’s still an element of truth.

James nods looking back at Quinn. “You do all this yourself?”

I roll my eyes but nod back. “He’s only valuable alive, that doesn’t mean unharmed.”

He hums. “What’s your name?”

“Rissa, Rissa Maximoff.”

“Thor, show Rissa to my office while I deal with him.” Barnes says, motioning towards Quinn.

Blonde, Thor, nods then roughly grabs my arm and drags me inside. Once inside, Thor sighs.

“You’re a brave thing aren’t you, fiery one?” I chuckle at the nickname.

“I guess you can say that.”

He leads me through the warehouse and past a few offices until he opens a door and ushers me inside. It shuts with a soft click, locking me inside.

Part 4

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moonstones-and-stardust · 4 years ago

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Hello all, I thought that this was an important topic to cover. Red flags are something that we all hear about. However, I don't think that it's something that is often explain. It's either something deliberately sought out or something that someone learns the hard way. Communication is a beneficial tactic and people standing up for themselves is often a core concept of feminism. Even if it's just making sure that someone is treating you properly.

While the statement seems redundant, this is something that can happen to anyone in any form of relationship. Perhaps the topic could spread some light on relationships with another person.

1. Moving too fast

After being in a relationship with someone for just a short period of time. Moving too fast is when they will attempt to pressure the other party into doing something before they are ready. Examples include having sex or moving in together. If someone is pressuring another person into a sexual encounter be aware that they don't fully care about consent. Nothing less than enthusiastic consent is okay. If the person manages this then be aware they will step on other boundaries or keep pressuring for sex.

In the concept of moving in together, it is often to put the other in a position where they are either contractually obligated to stay or in a position where the other might have power over them. If someone is pressuring for another to move in before they are ready, it's good to be wary of that individual and say that the pressure is not okay. If the reaction is poor then their intent often is as well.

2. Stepping on boundaries

If someone is willing to ignore boundaries it'll come up quickly in any kind of relationship. It's also the easiest for people to ignore. Oftentimes society teaches that someone putting up boundaries is something to push to change. We all have our own comfort zones and when they are too be crossed is entirely up to the person and what they want to do.

Someone making continuing comments about how someone else lives their life when it in no way hurts or affects them is not alright. Especially when asked to stop. When this is ignored it is creating a clear feeling of 'my words are more important than your feelings, so shut up and take it.'

Partners, friends, and parents overstepping boundaries is a huge issue. It's a basic idea of autonomy and respect. Might I add that this is especially important for parents. The idea of 'my house, my rules' comes to mind. While yes, it's reasonable to expect someone to help around the house. That doesn't give another person the right to invade their privacy. This is saying that parents do not see children as independent or able to think in any way. And that loss of control can be extremely damaging to egos that are frail. The same goes for friendships or partnerships. If people cannot accept their faults, then there is room for improvement.

3. Attempts at isolation

Isolation can be an extremely dangerous and scary thing once someone successfully puts this into motion. There are a lot of different ways that this can be put into use.

The easiest to understand is physical isolation. Pushing for someone to be alone with another when they aren't comfortable. Such as only hanging out one on one. Sure, this might be easy for someone who has social shyness, however, it becomes an issue when the other feels obligated to spend all their time with that one person. Even forgoing time with other friends and family to be there for one reason or another.

Emotional isolation, often used in cases where someone tells another they have suicidal thoughts or depression to manipulate them into staying. These are real issues and should be taken seriously. That does not give another person the right to emotionally isolate another for their own personal therapist. Some people even use this type of manipulation to pressure someone to be in a romantic relationship with others who are not interested. They feel as though this is all on them to keep that person alive. When in truth they should be seeking some form of professional help.

4. Secrecy/Forgoing safety

The title says a lot here. Secrecy in a relationship is understandable in some situations. Should the persons involved be in some kind of danger to their safety or livelihoods. This does not apply when two people have been in an ongoing relationship and a partner has been refusing to make it public in any form. This continues to grow in ease in the modern day with technology. Be aware, if someone is dating more than one person at a time without the other knowing. It is not the fault of the other person they are dating. It is solely the responsibility of the person that is cheating and those who take steps to deceive unaware parties.

Forgoing safety relates to sexual activities. There's nothing wrong with sex, it can be enjoyable and liberating for people involved. Doing so safely is greatly important. A partner who doesn't want to take all safety measures involved is thinking more of their pleasure than future outcomes.

Testing for Sti's. This is extremely important for young couples before they have unprotected sex. One person refusing to get tested might be a sign that they're hiding something important. If you're sexually active get checked frequently if you have multiple partners. Being healthy is more important than a night of pleasure.

5. 'Negging'

Negging is a lesser spoken about the concept. Or something that hasn't been frequently spoken about in previous years. Negging essentially boils down to a backhanded or slightly off comment to a potential partner. Someone's tone is often a big factor here and if addressed may easily be brushed off as someone being overly sensitive. If someone doesn't have the best self-esteem in the world little things like this can really build up.

Some examples include

'wow, you must be really brave to wear your hair THAT way'

'I'm surprised you can pull that look off'

'That's not something I would do, but on you, it works.'

'You're really brave to smile when your teeth look like that.'

Oftentimes these people pick up on what others might be insecure about, something that isn't conventionally attractive, and use a comment like this to try and ingratiate themselves while knocking down the other person's self-esteem.

6. Not like 'others'/comparing to others

This concept is vice versa. The topic of someone claiming to another that they're 'not like the others'. Is meant to make this person feel as though they are special. Which someone can get swept up with when they think someone thinks that they are special in a certain type of way. What's important here is to think about the concept. Why are they saying you're 'not like the others' and what situation is it applying to? 'not like the other girls.' is frequently used. If a woman is told she's not like other girls, it might not occur to wonder what's wrong with other women?

The truth is that there is nothing wrong with other women in this concept.

On the other hand, if someone is comparing two people, especially in a relationship it's important to think about why. While two people may have similarities they aren't the same person. People should treat everyone as an individual and not use others as a comparison. People are not one and the same and it's important to take individuality for what it is.

7. Gaslighting

Gaslighting is a form of abuse that can make a person feel as if they're going insane. The reason it is on this list is that it's something that can easily be done to another person. In any situation, though it is usually spoken conversations over a period of time in which this tactic is used.

Usually, it starts with someone saying that they never said something to you, when they most definitely did. If they do this enough then it can start to build doubt in the mind of another person. If this is done enough they start to doubt their own mental security and their memory.

Another form of this abuse is people moving things when another isn't looking. It might start out with just moving car keys to a different hook, moving someone's purse or clothing to the left, or placing them in a different drawer. Sometimes even straight up hiding them and when the person leaves putting them back as though they were there the entire time. If you suspect someone is doing this then take notes on what happens. And don't doubt yourself. It might be hard but that's the most important thing to breaking the cycle.

8. Refusing to talk about the future

This is something that is important mainly for couples. If there are ideals that people may disagree on it is important to address them early in a relationship that appears to be taking a serious turn. It is perfectly reasonable for someone to request some time to think about a topic. However, continually ignoring something crucial is a lack of communication. If someone is not willing to at least attempt communication on this level then one needs to think about how this will affect the relationship in the future.

Disclaimer

These are all things I've written down from one personal experience or another. I am not an expert but still think it's important to talk about, as someone doesn't have to be an expert to recognize abuse. If you'd like to add things on, ask questions, or ask me to write more in the future please go ahead.

#red flags #boundaries #discussion #abuse #abuse tw

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coltdancer · 5 years ago

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You Matter to Me (A Rapunzel’s Tangled Adventure Short Story)

A security breach of the alchemy lab results in a daring decision that has consequences for Varian.

Set after Eugene and Rapunzel are married, Varian has explored, learned, and returned to Corona as the Royal Engineer/Alchemist and Cassandra has completed her personal quests and returned to serve Corona as a member of the guard.

Inspired by CJeanne's/OriginalDisneyDescendants absolutely beautiful work here on Tumblr (not sure it’s around anymore), she graciously allowed me to run away with my own story. This is pure hurt/comfort FLUFF, my people. My happy place, my M.O., my zone. **AND NOW THERE IS ART by @lizpotentielle!

“What did he take?!” Cassandra shouted, dodging the ornate vase launched at her head, nearly careening into the wall of royal portraits when the move shifted her balance but did not account for her speed. “Uh...I’m not sure, exactly!”

“Uh...I’m not sure, exactly!”

Ahead of her, his long legs giving him an advantage, Varian lunged toward the Soporian thief and very nearly made an impressive tackle, but the body-check inadvertently shoved their target through the door leading down to the dungeons and aided his escape.

Cassandra sprinted past and Varian scrambled to his feet to join her.

“We can catch him when he hits the cells!” she huffed, concentrating on skipping steps without twisting an ankle.

“Not if he beats us to the sewage outlet; it’s how he got in. It will already be open,” Varian panted just behind her, and they hit the bottom to find that indeed, the doors leading through the main thoroughfare of the dungeon were all hanging wide open, providing the bandit a clear path.

With a straight and unhindered shot, Cassandra pulled the bolas from her belt and hurled them towards the Soporian’s legs with a grunt. It was enough to make contact and wrap around the man’s ankles, sending him pitching forward. He writhed impressively mid-air to skid across the floor on his shoulder, the glass vial he had stolen skittering from his pouch and across the bricks, out of his reach. Varian pounded past him, dodging the swipe of his arms and making it to the end of the hall to shove the wooden door closed and block his exit.

Cassandra breathed with relief when, panting heavily, he stooped to scoop up the vial and inspect it. Because Varian had interrupted his heist, the vial likely wasn’t what the thief intended to make off with, but Cassandra knew that any number of the alchemical compounds Varian held in his main lab could be potentially serious or deadly in the wrong hands - the negative rumors and town talk that would create buzz in the neighboring kingdoms almost as much so.

Best to keep these things quiet. And most definitely out of the wrong hands.

Cassandra placed her knee between the Soporian’s shoulder blades to finish rolling him onto his stomach, reaching for his free arm to pull behind him, when he suddenly flipped onto his back and had her by a fistful of tunic and a dagger blade to her throat.

Varian’s cry of warning was swallowed with a gasp. The edge of the blade was close enough that her skin prickled and she froze, daring to make eye-contact. Cold, brown eyes - so dark they were nearly black - narrowed with malice and she sat back as the thief used his impressive core strength to right himself, the knife never wavering from its precarious position against her jugular. Even had she been wearing her armor, her neck would have still been exposed. She made a mental note to rectify that if she was so lucky, her jaw clenching when he drew his legs close enough toward himself to reach down and release the bolas around his feet.

“I was warned about you and your skill, my dear,” the thief breathed silkily, leaning in close enough that Cassandra could smell his breath and sweat. It was repulsive. He was rising smoothly to his feet and guiding her with him, a cruel twist to his mouth as she felt the cold metal press against her skin. She held her breath and stood, his free arm unnervingly blocking a counter-attack to his midsection. She chanced a glance at Varian. He looked slightly horrified, but surprisingly calm, and stock-still. She knew his mind was racing with calculations and weighing his options. She tried to shake her head to warn him not to do anything, but a nick at her neck and her stronger arm wrenching painfully behind her made her stop. The muscle in Varian’s jaw clenched and he made a move to reach inside his vest.

“Ah-ah,” the thief warned, “You keep your hands where I can see them, pretty boy. And unless you plan on accompanying me, just hand that tube over, and I’ll let this little wench go.”

Varian’s eyebrow shot up at the insult and something dangerous flashed in his eyes that Cassandra recalled from long ago, and then it was gone, replaced with a resolve that she decided in an instant she did not like one bit better - just as he threw his head back and swallowed the entire contents of the vial.

“Well, can’t say it will do much for you now…” he responded dryly, suppressing a shudder, both Cassandra and her captor gaping in shock.

“It might if I slice you open and siphon what drains from your guts…” the Soporian snarled, just before he drew back and head-butted Cassandra in a rage.

Spots and stars exploded from the contact and she felt herself tossed to the ground as the man lunged forward, swinging. There was a whoosh and the clang of iron as a cell door slammed shut. Cassandra shook her head and squinted, wincing at the sound as Varian locked himself safely inside and away from the blade. His eyes darted to hers and back again, assessing that she had not yet recovered from the blow.

“Wow, that’s exceedingly graphic. You Soporians are so violent,” he quipped, keeping the focus on him. “How about ‘no’? I rather like my guts where they are, thanks.”

“They said you had a smart mouth, you little traitor. Didn’t know when to shut up. Perhaps I should just let you keep talking and at least garner the satisfaction of watching what it does to you.”

And he did sound just a little too eager for that, Cassandra thought, blinking widely and trying to focus on Varian. The alchemist almost looked bored, his shoulders dropping with a long-suffering sigh. “Absolutely nothing,” he responded.

“What nonsense is this?”

“Do you even know what you took?”

There was just the briefest of pauses. “Yes. It was Belladonna.”

“Or you grabbed bimberrry juice,” Varian rolled his eyes. “Tell me, did you actually see ‘belladonna’ or did you just snatch a vial marked with a letter ‘B’ on it, because that’s all you could read?”

The Soporian’s eyes were practically bulging and all he could do was splutter, and Cassandra felt her stomach unclench. She wanted to laugh. Instead, she felt for the hilt of her sword.

“Yeah, that’s what I figured.”

The sound of metal releasing from its sheath as Cassandra brandished her own blade grabbed their attention then, and with one last glare and clang on the iron bars of Varian’s safety cage, the Soporian bolted down the corridor toward the sewage grates.

Cassandra lunged after him, but halted abruptly, rushing back to the closed cell. She was patting down her pockets and looking around frantically on the floor, but the keys were nowhere to be found. She looked up to find Varian dangling the keyring over his index finger. When had he snagged those?

She choked out a laugh. “ Why do you keep bimberry juice in your lab?”

He shrugged. “For medicine. Makes it taste better.”

“Oh. So it was really just bimberry juice?”

“No, it was belladonna.”

“ WHAT ?”

“Cassandra. That low-life is getting away.”

“We have to get you out of there.”

“Go catch your man.”

“What - no! Open the door. We have no idea what that stuff will do to you!”

“I’m pretty sure I have a good idea.” “I am going to kill you.”

Varian tilted his head, a wistful, amused expression crossing his features. He shook his head. “Sorry, but I’m not going to need your assistance this time around, Cassie.”

Her eyes widened with realization and she gripped the handle, rattling it furiously.

“ Varian . This isn’t funny. Please tell me you have some kind of antidote.”

He smiled, but the beat of silence was too long. “Of course.”

Cassandra’s stomach dropped like lead. “ VARIAN. OPEN THE DOOR -- ”

With a huff of a chuckle, Varian stepped forward and through the bars pressed a chaste kiss to her forehead, stunning her momentarily speechless in its acceptance. “He’s getting away, Cass. Let me handle the science stuff. You catch the bad guy so he can answer for this. Go on, now.”

She was horrified and angry and... scared ...which made her angrier, still, and she whipped around with a howl of fury intended just as much for the fleeing criminal as the maddening man she was leaving behind to potentially die a slow death.

Corona did not see a lot of high crime; the populace had nearly as infamous a reputation for squelching suspicious activity as the kingdom guard. When the infrequent circumstances arose, however, the reaction was generally well-executed and swift. Today’s heist was no exception, but it had created quite a stir. The chase had resulted in Cassandra pursuing the Soporian interloper through the drainage tunnels below the dungeons and out the spillway into the moat, a sure test of her endurance, before gaining enough ground to make him change course right into the trap Eugene and his guard had waiting.

And then it was over.

Cassandra had been anxious to report to the Captain, but he’d taken one good look at her, pulled a face, and insisted she shower first. He might also have alerted her best friend and Princess to her need for a good meal and in the meantime paid his own visit to the newly occupied dungeons to question their captive. She was begrudgingly grateful for the respite.

Now, as lamps were being lit and the sun dipped low on the horizon, Cassandra finished giving Eugene her version of the events and he scribbled notes in his parchment book about as furiously as she recounted them. He had grown so very efficient in his role and Cassandra could not help but be impressed - they squabbled to the point of aggravation sometimes, but she knew he took the role seriously and worked hard. She had often dreamed of holding that position. However, even as Eugene carefully closed the book he was writing in, his fingers lingering over the cover that reeked of Rapunzel’s handiwork with a small smile, Cassandra found she did not harbor ill will or even any resentment. She’d made her choices. The fact that she has been able to return to Corona and work her way into duty at all was rewarding, and the capture they made today proved once again that she was capable and Eugene’s faith in her was justified. But with the recounting of that chase and how she wound up jumping into the muck after their criminal, she was freshly reminded that she had left another man behind. That was not a decision she could commend, no matter how logical it was. No matter how confused it left her.

She blinked and looked up. Cassandra wasn’t sure how long she had been silent, mulling it all over again.

Eugene leveled her with a penetrating gaze before standing from behind the desk. He was disconcertingly adept at reading her. “C’mon,” he barked, and just like that Captain Fitzherbert was put away and he was “Eugene” once again. “Rapunzel was getting Varian a change of clothes. Let’s go check on him.”

Cassandra tensed, but knowing Raps had been with him and Eugene had procured his statement of events earlier as well...that had to mean Varian was fine and nothing untoward happened as a result of his daring strategy earlier. Her shoulders relaxed marginally and she cleared her throat, rising to follow him from the room. “How...how is he?”

Eugene snorted as he opened the door, sweeping his arm toward the threshold in a polite motion to usher her through first. “Been puking his guts up all afternoon, but whatever that nasty stuff was that he concocted and choked down seemed to do the trick.” He shuddered and grimaced. “Did you see that stuff? I’ve seen Shorty consume more appetizing sludge than that black tar-slime he mixed up. But...I guess if you’re poisoned, you’re not too worried about the taste, eh?”

Cassandra felt her jaw clench, ire returning as they walked down the hall toward the infirmary. She could see Rapunzel hovering at the door and as they neared, a bundle of clothes clutched in the princess’ hands. “Since he was foolhardy enough to do it to himself instead of oh, I don’t know , smashing the bottle on the bricks, I’d say that’s what he gets.”

Beside her, Cassandra could practically feel the dubious eyebrow Euguene was lifting. “A split-second to take a single course of action and save the Kingdom’s face - oh! and you,” he unnervingly summarized, and she just knew he was wearing that smug, all-knowing expression on his face as they came to a halt, muttering a “Yeah, it scared the hell out of me, too.”

Eugene bent to kiss his wife on the cheek. Worn thin by her concern (not that she’d admit it openly), Cassandra glowered at him and rather unceremoniously snatched the garments from Rapunzel’s grasp, continuing on for the infirmary door. Rapunzel stammered, unsettled, and reached out to halt her progress into the room. “Cass - I don’t think now is a good time -”

“Ah, Sunshine? Why don’t we just let Cassandra go on in.”

“But Eugene -” the princess hissed, even as the Captain of the Guard began to wrestle her away.

“Trust me.”

And God bless Eugene as he tugged on her arm and Rapunzel fell silent. Cassandra yanked the door open and stalked into the softly-lit antechamber, marching across the floor toward the only partitioned area that held anyone at the moment, on a mission to give Varian a piece of her mind for the worry she’d been fighting all afternoon -

And was halted at the edge of the make-shift curtain by the unmistakable sound of retching.

It took a moment for her to compose herself before she took a step forward to peer around the curtain where Healer O'Shea, a kindly man with silvering strawberry-blond hair, was positioned in front of an obviously still very ill alchemist. The doctor glanced up at her briefly, one eyebrow arched in silent query. He was bracing Varian with a gentle hand to the shoulder and supporting a basin as Varian’s whole body strained forward with a round of horrible, empty gurgles that made Cassandra cringe. Finally, he coughed and spit with a pained gasp.

“That’s it, lad. I think you’ve just about got it all out - and then some. This should be slowing down, now,” the physician murmured with approval. “Let’s try a little bit of ginger tea this time around, see if we can settle that stomach and start getting you rehydrated.”

Varian, if he registered what was said, did not outwardly respond. In fact, he seemed unaware of anyone standing there at all. Chalky white and panting for air, he was slumped over a bolster wedged between his arms and his stomach - the only thing that seemed to be holding him upright on the edge of the cot. Cassandra nodded, subdued, as the healer dipped his head in silent excusal, leaving her alone with Varian and feeling exposed. Whatever she was expecting after speaking with Euguene, it wasn’t this.

He looked... dreadful.

And just like that, she felt her anger dissipate. If it was even truly anger, to begin with.

“I’d rather you not see me like this…”

It was such a low rasp she wasn’t sure she heard it. But a few moments later, Varian mustered the strength to lift his head, the hint of a smirk in his voice, “Unless you came to make good on your offer? You’ve got your sword, right?”

Cassandra let out the breath she didn’t even realize she was holding, stepping closer. “You must be joking!”

“Only - mm, only half -” he grunted, then went positively ashen with a small groan and barely managed to find the basin beside him as his stomach heaved again.

If she thought it was bad mere moments earlier, Cassandra was certain Varian’s insides were trying to claw themselves out, now. His grip was white-knuckled and desperate as he fought through it, bringing absolutely nothing up, his stomach completely devoid of even the thick and tarry-looking charcoal Eugene said he had been bringing up for hours. Cassandra found herself reaching out to awkwardly pat at the shirt plastered to his back. He was hot to the touch and she could feel the muscles coiling angrily beneath her hand; it had to hurt.

Varian folded over the pillow again, trembling from exertion, and she managed to grab the bin from him before it could clatter to the floor. “Please, jus’...” then his head was in his hands and he gave up trying to talk. She wasn’t sure if he was begging for her to leave or for it to just be over.

Cassandra felt utterly inept; maybe it would be best to just leave the change of clothes for him and excuse herself quietly. He was a mess and she did not know what to do. She would have wanted to be left alone in this sort of scenario, but then, Varian was nothing like her. He was tenderhearted and tactile and...this was definitely Rapunzel’s department. The healer had disappeared to make the tea - naturally, she thought, setting the garments she held down on the bed. She hadn’t planned to stay, for goodness sake, and in no way would have agreed to play nursemaid. Sure, she and Varian certainly shared a level of comfortable camaraderie with one another; there had been the occasional long conversation when neither could sleep, mutual royal projects or endeavors, one exceedingly rare late night at the Snuggly Duckling when they’d both imbibed a bit too much and had chatted and giggled all the way back to the castle on Fidela. She looked back at the miserable man beside her and remembered leaving him behind in the dungeons. While not as powerful as fear, guilt was a fair motivator. Cassandra would be the first to admit she was no good at the “soft stuff”, but she realized that she wanted to try for him.

She chewed thoughtfully on her lip, searching the room and wracking her brain, then her eyes landed on the washstand against the wall. Quietly, she stepped over to it and pulled on the silver levers, letting the water run hot before filling a large basin from a stack of them on the side. She absently wriggled her fingers under the stream, as she almost always had since her return to Corona, marveling at what Varian had done with all the pipes and his huge fancy boiler mechanism, smiling faintly at a memory - and was quickly reminded of the man across the room. Cassandra threw a few of the folded rags over her shoulder and slowly returned to the bed as the healer arrived with a small cup of warm, pale liquid.

“Just a sip or two at first,” he told her and relegated the task by handing the cup off to her once she set her wares down on the bedside table. She stood there, gaping at the doctor’s back as he traipsed over to his desk and resisted the urge to tell him this was his job. She was beginning to smell a conspiracy.

“Hey, you still with me?” she asked gently, prodding Varian to sit up and relinquish his hold on the massacred cushion beneath his arms.

His breathing was a little easier and with a pang, she hoped he hadn’t dozed off. She picked up the tea and held it before him. It looked inoffensive enough and smelled pleasantly of meadowsweet, but Varian grunted with disapproval, turning a nasty shade of pale and green when she pressed the cup to his lips. Stubbornly, she waited him out until he finally took a few sips.

“There. Not so bad?” she murmured.

He managed a noncommittal noise in reply.

Cassandra went back to chewing on her lip, wondering how long it would take for the tea to come back up, if it was going to. “I bet you have some ideas on how to improve on the formula,” she finally added with forced brightness, and set it down, her smile fading when he said nothing.

Yeah, he was in pretty bad shape. She watched him drag in a deep breath, releasing it heavily. “You gonna be sick again?”

He seemed to be taking inventory. “No…” he swallowed hard, “...not yet,” he finally whispered, still breathless.

“Uh...Raps brought you some fresh clothes…” she offered quietly, but it just sounded silly when he could barely even hold his own head up. She frowned, and then pursed her lips in frustration. Why was this so hard?

Time for a purely practical decision. He needed help, and she ...could help with this.

“What’r y’doin?” Varian slurred, sounding agitated and batting altogether uselessly at her when she reached for his shirt. “Cass -”

“Hey, hey! It’s alright,” she soothed, enclosing his wrist in her small hand, waiting for him to look at her. He swayed against her and the magnitude of what she was asking wasn’t lost on her. Suddenly, her gracelessness no longer mattered. “Can I...Can I help you with this?”

His eyes, dull and bruised, slid closed. To her dismay, a small tear trickled from the outer corner and he nodded. He was exhausted.

Though she knew he couldn’t see it, she smiled with much more confidence than she felt. Maybe he wouldn’t hear it, either. She gave his shoulder a squeeze. “Okay. It’s okay, Varian. You’ll feel better soon.”

She pulled the sweat-dampened shirt over his head carefully, steadying him as his chin dipped toward his chest. She tried not to, but could not help but notice that his shoulders were peppered with a similar smattering of freckles as his face. It absolutely did not soften her smile. She turned to the bowl on the table to drop in the rags, swirling them around in the hot water to warm them up. “You know, what you did today...that was really stupid, Var.”

“This is supposed to make me feel better?” he mumbled irritably, and she cringed.

Speaking of stupid…

“Sorry, that came out poorly,” she muttered, abashed, wringing out a rag and gently pressing it to the back of his neck. He jumped beneath the initial touch, then sagged with a mewl of relief that made her stomach feel funny. Cassandra swallowed and drew the washcloth along the sweep of his shoulders, concentrating on removing the clammy layers of sweat and salt down his back and arms.

“I mean,” she tried again, slowly, “It worked, but it wasn’t worth your life.”

Varian sighed. “Admittedly really dumb. I’ll do better next time.”

Cassandra paused then, rag dripping over the bowl as she reached out and snatched his bearded chin, lifting it so that he was looking at her. “No!” she replied, eyes wide with alarm. “Varian, do not scare me - us… ” She took a breath, recovering herself and dropped her tone.“Don’t scare us like that again.”

He blinked dazedly but held her gaze until she reached up to gently wash his face, ignoring that funny feeling that came again when his eyes fluttered closed and he trusted her to it. She placed the rag in his hand so that he could make a pass or two at his front, then helped him thread his arms into the clean shirt, lifting it over his head. His hair was sticking up in all different directions and she bit down on a giggle. The urge to tame it with her fingers was strong, but Cassandra busied herself with the teacup instead, steadying it when his hands shook and encouraging him to work on it some more.

It did seem to be helping. With the modicum of relief from his nausea and taking in some fluid, the tension was draining from his posture. He could no longer keep his eyes open. She took the empty cup and gave in to thread her fingers through his hair - purely under the pretense of smoothing it back into place - and he leaned more heavily against her. She thought she heard her name, the ghost of a whisper on his lips when he was suddenly dead weight in her arms.

“Varian?!” The alarm in her voice and the shattering of the teacup drew the attention of the healer, who was quick to rise from his notes and return to the bedside, helping her ease Varian’s limp form to the mattress.

Cassandra stood by with wide eyes as he took Varian’s wrist and measured the pulse with practiced ease, gently tilting Varian’s head toward the lantern on the table, pushing back his eyelids and watching the pupils react to the light. He then took a moment to remove the instrument around his neck, listening to the sound of Varian’s breath in his lungs, the rhythm of his heart.

“It’s all right,” he assured her, straightening and reaching to pull up the blanket. “He’s just finally passed out. No small wonder. Maybe he’ll be able to get some rest, now.”

Cassandra let out a shaky breath and pursed her lips together, swallowing hard. Relief washed over her with astonishing force and she blinked against her silly, watering eyes. Healer O’Shea was watching her carefully.

“You may stay a bit longer; make sure our winsome engineer is comfortable,” he murmured, skirting the foot of the cot and bending over with a crack of his back to pick up the broken pieces of the smashed cup from the floor. “But then, unless you wish me to remove you from Captain Fitzherbert’s active duty roster, you’ll let me give you a check-over and will retire to get some rest as well, hm?”

The tumult of the day’s emotions and weariness threatening to overwhelm her, all she could do was nod in agreement. She knew there was nothing she could do for Varian, but found herself at war with the decision to leave him - again . He did not budge in the least when she needlessly fussed over the blanket, resting her palm across his chest, reassured by the gentle thump of his heartbeat. Somewhere, sometime over the course of their friendship, she realized how very much she’d grown to care for him. In the quiet of the infirmary, now, she could admit how right Eugene’s earlier dig at her had been: today had scared the hell out of her.

“What are you doing to me, you big nerd?” she whispered incredulously.

Cassandra scoffed then, and rolled her eyes in exasperation, swiping at her eyes once more and shaking her head. The healer cleared his throat across the room. She straightened and followed his gesture to a new cot, but not before she took one last moment to return the kiss Varian had bestowed upon her from behind the cell door, her lips pressed tenderly to his forehead as she bid him a silent goodnight.

She did feel better, Cassandra admitted, after a few hours of sleep and some breakfast. Much to Eugene’s chagrin, she even reported for duty. The Captain, however, seemed assuaged by her reasoning that she needed the distraction and she accepted his compromise to take off after lunch.

She was returning from the kitchens (making her way through the Great Hall since a steady thundershower rendered the courtyard an undesirable path) when Cassandra caught the back of a familiar mop of black hair heading in that very direction - and likely to the old ammunitions holds that had been converted to his main lab, near the garden.

“Varian?” she called, both concerned to see him up and about when she’d left him very much unconscious the night before, and relieved.

He turned at the sound of her voice and smiled wanly, waiting for her to catch up to him. “Hey.”

“Hey, yourself.” she narrowed her eyes. “You’re looking…better?” she offered unconvincingly, to which he chuckled sheepishly.

“Yeah, I know...I’m kind of a mess,” he muttered, gesturing to himself, and she was dismayed at how hoarse his voice sounded.

“You look pretty peaked, actually,” she revised. “Are you sure you should be out right now?”

“Released on my own recognizance,” he puffed, but quickly deflated under her stare. “Yeah, okay. So, released once I kept down some lunch,” he admitted. “I just wanted to give the lab a once over, make a few notes.”

“Right. Where we’d find you slumped over the workbench at dinner time because you lost track of the hour,” she chuckled at the indignant noise he made. “Varian, I know you. And, I know what you went through yesterday with that stuff - it could have killed you! May I remind you of the antidote you spent all afternoon and evening bringing up --”

“Okay, okay...keep pushing it, and you can see what I had for lunch, too,” Varian groused, looking decidedly uncomfortable and definitely too pale.

And darn it, she’d let her blunt mouth run away with her again. “See? All you need to be doing right now is taking it easy.”

She stepped behind him to take Varian by the shoulders and direct him toward the other end of the hall, toward the bath chambers. “THAT way. Go use those hot showers you made possible. If you still feel like you’ve got it in you to check your lab, then we’ll talk.”

He spluttered as she began pushing him across the floor, but she could tell he wasn’t putting up much resistance, physically. “I don’t have clean clothes…”

“I’ll bring you some. Go on.”

Varian planted his feet and glowered at her, but then his shoulders slumped in defeat. He threw a longing glance at the bath doors and looked back at her. “It....would feel nice…”

Cassandra smiled triumphantly. “Right?”

When he continued to look uncertain, she could tell he was at war with something he felt he needed to do and what he wanted to do. She frowned and reached out to touch his elbow, lowering her voice. “Hey. What’s got you so determined to push yourself right now?”

He was silent for a moment, then met her eyes. “I really should make some notes. I - I need a way to better track, and secure, my inventory,” he answered ruefully. “Yesterday was a reminder of the real danger in some of the work I do, and how imperative it is to protect the kingdom’s assets - both from misuse and misconstruction.”

While the solemnity of his response was reassuring, Cassandra couldn’t help but think Varian had completely overlooked another important aspect of the “kingdom’s assets” - his own well-being.

Security detail was one of her specialties, not his, and before she could second-guess herself, she suggested, “How about you get that shower, take a load off and rest. You could...tell me what’s going on in that big brain of yours, and I could write the notes down for you.”

Varian’s expression shifted so swiftly to surprise that Cassandra found herself back-pedaling in case she’d offered too much.

“I mean if you - if I -” she rolled her eyes with irritation at her bumbling and huffed, feeling her cheeks burn. “If you trusted me to.”

Varian’s eyes softened and the smile he gave her made her stomach do that weird thing again. His voice dropped. “Of course I trust you,” he reassured her, and then it was his turn to look embarrassed. He reached up to rub awkwardly at the back of his neck. “It’s just...you’ve done a lot already, you know? And this doesn’t really matter all that much to…”

“It matters to you.”

“Well, yes.”

“Then it matters to me.”

Varian blinked, confounded. “Wow, Cass - that was almost….touching. Eugene would ask if you hurt yourself.”

“GO,” she growled good-naturedly, punching him lightly in the arm.

Varian flinched playfully and wobbled, off-balance, but even as Cassandra steadied him with an apology, he only chuckled and assured her he was fine, at last giving in to her suggestion and plodding off to the bath chambers.

She had been right, too, after hurrying back with clean clothes from his chambers - while the hot water and steam had brought back some color to his face, it had also left him rather loose-limbed and, if possible, wearier. She took him by the arm and steered him toward the steps of the garden tower, prodding him along like a drunken villager to his rooms. They were cold and felt damp with all the rain, so she set to starting some kindling in the grate of the bedchamber to chase the chill away as Varian kicked off his boots then crawled into his bed and collapsed with a groan. The flames soon took hold and, after placing some larger logs, Cassandra glanced over her shoulder. Varian hadn’t moved.

Thunder rumbled outside and a gust of wind splattered rain more heavily against the window, but the chill was dissipating and heat was spreading out into the room, now. Cassandra poked at the logs for something to do, hoping that if she gave him enough time, Varian would drift off to sleep and actually rest. It would certainly do him a world of good. Her eyes wandered over the eclectic arrangement of artifacts and trinkets on the mantle; some of them she recognized, but others she did not. She tilted her head quizzically at a glass urn, filled with what looked like a marbled mixture of ash and sand, labeled with nothing more than sketched flames.

“Go ahead, open it,” Varian spoke drowsily. “Spread some of it across the fire.”

Cassandra threw him a wry, “why are you still awake?” look, but reached up to gingerly remove the jar, setting the lid on the mantle’s ledge. She pulled out a scoop of the fine granules and studied them more closely. They sparkled slightly in the light of the flames and she found herself curious, scattering them across the expanse of the grate. The powder sparked and popped, surprising her, but then the flames were suddenly awash with changing color, blazing from jewel-toned blues and greens to bright oranges and pinks.

“What is it?” she breathed, delighted as the flames continued a steady burn of flickering color.

“Just a mix I’m still trying to get right,” he replied, but she could hear the surprise in his voice at her interest. “Potassium and copper chloride, lithium chloride...some alum. Sugar and salt.”

Cassandra shook her head fondly at his list of mostly unknown, scientific ingredients, still mesmerized. “It’s beautiful.”

“Yes, it is,” he responded groggily, but she could feel his eyes on her, instead.

Cassandra felt her cheeks redden and she offered him a small smile, uncharacteristically self-conscious with the attention. She felt warm all over. “How are you feeling?” she asked finally, replacing the jar and coming to stand at the bedside.

Varian shrugged half-heartedly. “Eh. Head hurts a little, but it’s not too bad.”

Translation: enough for him to mention it, though. Cassandra frowned, tugging the covers from beneath him and pulling them up to his chest. She stepped over to his desk and plucked the blanket from the chair. It was obviously one Rapunzel had knitted for him, large and heavy and very soft, its colors mirroring that of Ruddiger’s fur. It...smelled faintly like Varian. She wrapped it around her shoulders and then, after a moment’s consideration, rummaged in the armoire for an extra pillow and situated herself beside him on the bed with a quill and one of the parchment books he kept on the table. Varian wriggled under the blankets and finally settled on his side, snuggled surprisingly - and comfortably, she realized - close to her hip.

“Okay, first things first,” she began, and Varian craned his neck to look up at her. “You need a better lock. Maybe more than one. And lock it every time you leave...even for just a few minutes.”

Varian hummed in agreement, nodding against the pillow. “I should talk with Xavier.”

“Noted. How often do you check inventory?”

“I…” Varian frowned. “Not enough,” he admitted ruefully.

“It seems redundant much of the time, I know,” Cassandra responded patiently, adding to the page, “Especially if you’re the only one in there and you’ve not left all day...but, I recommend it. Sometimes you catch discrepancies. We do the same with armor and munitions.”

“Makes sense,” Varian yawned.

Cassandra’s mouth twitched and she glanced down at him. “Line of sight,” she added quietly.

“What about it?” he asked, fighting to open his eyes again.

“We should rearrange your workspace so that your back isn’t to the door. So that you always have a line of sight when someone comes in.”

“I hadn’t thought of that...that’s a good idea.”

“We should also add a sentry. I’ll talk with Eugene about it.” She scribbled down a few more notes and he yawned again. “I think that’s enough for us to start with,” she assured him, leaning over and whispering, “Get some rest.”

“...Cass, could you….?” Varian stopped himself short, his cheeks turning pink as he burrowed into the pillow.

Cassandra set aside the parchment book and quill, brow furrowed. She tried to surmise what he could possibly have wanted or needed that would embarrass him so after everything he’d been through. Tentatively, she reached out to comb her fingers through the long fringe at his forehead and he sighed as if he had been waiting for exactly that... oh. When she’d done it for him the night before, he’d finally relaxed enough to let unconsciousness claim him. She could not help but smile now as it seemed to work again. He really was a tactile creature.

“How’s that?” she asked, her thumb circling gently at his temple.

“Mmm.”

“Mmm?”

There was barely a grunt, but he seemed to nestle in just a little bit closer. She sighed and sank into a more comfortable position, allowing her eyes to close for a respite. Just a brief one, she compromised with the part of herself that railed against the domesticity of the whole thing. The rain continued to patter at the window and it was warm, cozy, and... nice , she decided, with Varian tucked against her side and breathing deeply. She would slip out once Varian was asleep. Her fingers continued threading through his hair and he hadn’t stirred in the slightest. As she began to drift off, herself, Cassandra had one last thought before the morning sun would finally wake her hours later: that Euguene’s ridiculous grooming habits had worn off on Varian and she now had the perfect dig that would drive Eugene bonkers.

Varian’s hair was definitely thicker and softer.

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inviouswriting · 5 years ago

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Aymeric alphabet redone

I got a prompting for the alphabet for him. So I am going to redo it. Some opinions have changed since I first did it! So with that. Under the cut~

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

He’s a cuddler post coital. He has you wrapped in his arms and pressing his face against yours in full kisses showering you in affection till you are either laughing from every spot on your face is kissed or sighing in love staring into those blue eyes as they watch your face for any winces of pain. He won’t do anything to hurt you, but if you are a smaller lover, it doesn’t mean that he doesn’t get a little rambunctious.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Aymeric likes his arms, he loves using them to hold you in particular. They provide comfort when you need it, tender touches when he gives them, also they protect you, even if you assure him you hardly need protecting. It isn’t the world he is protecting you from, it is the feeling of loneliness. His favorite on his love would be their eyes/face. He focuses the most on it, and studies you even from across the room. He picks up on every nuance even you don’t realize you make. Sorrowful expressions when the mentions of beloved friends or the special gazes he gets when you are together. He prefers to have you happy and blushing under him.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

I still keep my earlier headcanon for this. Because of his diet he is sweeter. Consistency is fuller and easily has anyone wanting more of it. He might be very fond of oral from you.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Aymeric loves having you give him oral in his office. So much that he has learned how to keep a straight face when holding meetings. No one is none the wiser about it either. Only he can see under his desk, and during more dull meetings he is thankful to have you relieve his stress in a secret only you two know of.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Due to his status as a bastard, he does nothing to add onto his reputation. So I mentioned in the past, he is less likely to have had any stray lovers and most likely a virgin till he meets you. He is not ignorant to sex and has a specific collection of books he keeps tucked away. But he would never carelessly add to the orphaned and abandoned children of Ishgard. He wants to secure his partner before that and even prefers to experience first times together.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

He has three he really enjoys. Sitting positions ones that allows his lover to fit nicely in his lap while he helps them bounce in it. Doggy he loves this one as you are able to receive him in full and he can let go without restraints. Also seeing the way you arch your back drives him crazy. And standard missionary, he finds this position more romantic when he wants to take his time. He can touch your face, see every emotion cross it, and see you blush when you catch him staring or twisted in pleasure.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

Aymeric adds a little humor in the beginning. He teases playfully, in small banter, or draws you in to relax with him. If he can get you to laugh, then it makes sex more fun and not just having sex and more of making love. As the time progresses, he gets serious about attending to his lover’s needs. Doesn’t mean he doesn’t say something to catch his love off guard to make them smile.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

Going on the fact he does not have facial hair (I believe by choice) I am well likely to believe he is well kept up. He is a clean man, anything below the head is gone and prefers his partner to keep up in this area. Hair is not fun when you go down on someone.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

Very romantic, there is spur the moments, but he loves devoting a whole evening to being romantic. It is you and him, not the world and his world together. You started as equals and he keeps that even in the bedroom.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

He keeps something of yours to have your scent when you are gone for long periods of time. He always imagines you taking him in your mouth, and gets lost in his fantasies that you have snuck up on him a few times to help him out.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Costume kink. He will get you costumes to wear for him. Whether some of those costumes make it out untorn depends on how well you shed them before hand.

He is also very fond of sensory play and edging. If he can keep you for hours, he is spending it teasing every moment of you. Ice being rubbed on heated skin, a tongue across skin while blindfolded. Bringing you close only to deny you relief. He is good about keeping you teetering only because your face is lit in pleasure and he wants to keep that mental image for as long as possible while figuring out what makes you tick.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

His home, or his office. But he is fond of inns and places where the titles and people do not know him so he can let loose. He spends so much time under the public eye, that he loves a location where all of that escapes him. A lake or river are favorite spots. Secluded and out in the open.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

A simple stare between you two. Or if he is sitting down rubbing his ears. He melts in your hands if you tease his ears and before you know it he is staring at you with that one gaze. Specially if you touch his ears in public.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Forced, watersports, anything digusting or dangerous is off the table. He will never engage in extreme plays as he would never dream of hurting you. Consent is very important to him, he checks often to ensure you are happy with him even in the middle. The last thing he wants to do is take you when you are not into it.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Both. He loves receiving it as much as he gives. He enjoys 69 as a way to tease each other for hours before you actually do anything more. He learns through your time together how to please you, and you learn to please him.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Slow and sensual. He takes his time, and if he can be romantic he will be.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Only done in his office, he is actually grateful for the quick romps as not only does he spend his morning with you, but it reduces great stress off his shoulders knowing the secrets done in his office.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Anything that doesn’t involve disgusting acts, pain, or reputations. He is open to about anything as long as limits are met and talked about well before doing anything that is outside your comfort zones.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

His training provides him with great endurance for long hours. This is well applied in private. He can last rounds and rounds before he is actually tired. His partner might get tired before him! He prefers that as he enjoys knowing he has thoroughly satisfied his lover.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

He keeps a few teasers for his lover. One in his likeness, only to watch you use it when sitting on his desk or laying on his bed. It provides him a way to tease before he does anything.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Aymeric loves to tease. A subtle touch, he can be sitting next to his partner at a party in a corner and has his hands and fingers toying with them till they beg to find a private spot. Those long legs of his are perfect for sitting across and using a foot under a table. He has a very good poker face, but the wry grin he gives you seeing you about to lose yours. You have to wait till later love.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

He’s quiet most of the time save for a few groans or subtle moans when he is in charge. Receiving oral, he is a mess. His voice carries out and sweet words follow in praises or begs for you to actually suck him. There are ways to get back at his teasings.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

Fond of c*ck warming. Where you are just seated in his lap and not moving. He loves doing this during sex and post. He can’t get enough of being inside that he doesn’t want to leave your body.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

I am one of those that does headcanon a large penis. 9 1/2 with a lovely girth of 3 1/2. His lover will be happy on him. Curves upward nicely towards his stomach all you know is how nice it feels.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Once he has had a taste for it, he finds himself wanting more. His drive is high for his partner. Otherwise he is able to control himself well.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

His lover will fall asleep before he does. He spends post coital rubbing their body or cuddling into them.

#Aymeric #ser aymeric #aymeric de borel #Invi's ffxiv writing

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natsunoomoi · 4 years ago

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Mental Health Post: I have a lot of thoughts

To start off, again, I’m back from a mental health break just for the election because the whole circus just shot my anxiety through the roof and became a lot more than I could handle. It was worse during the election 4 years ago when I was still in the US because the 24 hour news cycle just would not give me a break about it. Now in Japan at least, I more or less can thoughtfully manage my anxiety better by choosing when to go on Facebook or use things on the internet that will cause me to panic or worry. Like the actual ocean’s worth of distance and being surrounded by different media outlets mean that I can schedule time for myself on when to engage with worrying about doom. So there’s that and that’s a good thing, but I still spent some extra hours doom scrolling while waiting for results. Not as bad as it would have been if I were Stateside, but not great.

I’m definitely a lot more relaxed about the general political state of the country though. The shitshow isn’t over I know and more could come up between now and January 20th, but legally it’s mostly over because it looks like most judges and states aren’t willing to put up with stupid shenanigans.

More personal thoughts under the cut.

I am, however, absolutely still very concerned about the ongoing pandemic. Japan is handling it definitely much better than the US, but that’s a low comparison bar though. There’s still much to be improved and priorities that I think need to be rechecked. Not my country though so there isn’t anything I can really do about that. It’s just really irritating that my Mom is messaging me from the US about my finances though and acting like I have other choices which leads me to constantly remind her we’re in a fucking pandemic and there’s things I can’t do. Relatively I feel safer in my current job and prefecture that is handling it decently although some pockets of dumb people leave the prefecture and then bring corona back with them. Most of the people are smart though and don’t go anywhere so I feel relatively safe. If I were to look for another job, I would be looking at moving to the dangerous spreading zones and needing to interface with a butt ton of people that could cause me to catch the virus potentially. It’s frustrating. I don’t actually want to be rude to my Mom too when I talk to her, but considering it’s a literal life and death choice, I’ve found myself screaming at her or asking her how she can ask something so stupid. I just can’t with this. I’m tired of it, but I’m going to be responsible about it and keep myself and others around me safe.

Then also on my blog I’d recently been talking about this Chinese web novel I read. The more recent posts I’d been talking with someone about one particular character that did some very bad things according to the in-universe author and just the book in general, but like the person I was talking to seemed to maybe forget some of the details or was like trying to like whitewash the character’s actions. I think it’s been mostly resolved, but through the discussion an idea popped in my head that maybe they also don’t know what it’s like to have mental health problems either from personal experience or having a friend or loved one that has a really serious case. I’m making an assumption here of course, but that’s just the impression I got as someone who has a mental illness.

I am actually diagnosed with general anxiety disorder and I know that’s what I have right now and is the thing I deal with that isn’t going away. When I was younger though, I had symptoms and behavior that seemed similar to bipolar disorder, but I was never diagnosed and for the most part those symptoms were no longer present when I was finally able to talk to a professional when I sought help. I sought help because I had PTSD after being sexually harassed by a supervisor. The actual harassment though wasn’t really what caused the PTSD because I just thought he was an idiot. What made me mentally fall apart was the retaliation and the realization that oh this shit is really happening. All of my calm and coping symptoms went out the window and I slowly started having a breakdown.

The above book discussion I was having reminded me of this time in my life though because the discussion was about whether or not the character would cross a line and do something that seemed like maybe they probably wouldn’t do normally because of whatever standards they have. If this was me before I had my mental breakdown, I would agree with the other user more. But because I went through my own time of the lowest low and feeling of absolute desperation and grasping at straws for help, I know that things are not that easy. The character in question is a survivor of severe abuse and trauma and has no substantial support system or anyone they can talk to. In comparison, I have been lucky to have friends that did stick by me to give me support, but there were some I still had to give up and cut out of my life and that hurt me greatly and helped contribute to my darkest moments. Some of it for me was absolute frustration with the fact that they wouldn’t pick a side even though my harasser very clearly did something wrong that was not in any way excusable. The other thing was the PTSD was making me super paranoid also and I was wondering if he was manipulating my friends to try to get close to me to hurt me more or something. I had always tried to be a good friend, but because I was going through this ordeal I felt like I was absolutely going crazy and some of the things I thought and felt I know was pushing people I cared about out of my life. It is very, very hard to have a relationship of any kind with someone with a mental illness when they are at their lowest. When they have dark moments, the self-destructive behavior kicks in. That’s why those are symptoms. I found myself at times so miserable that I would cross lines that I never thought before I would cross, and it was because for a short while the suffering was so great that I was literally just like, “Fuck it.” I was very fortunate that the things I attempted would have taken a great deal more set up in order to do any actual damage to my life, so once I cooled down I was okay and no actual harm was done, and I got help and changed my environment completely and met more healthy people. But when I read and thought about that character, knowing what that impulse felt like, I knew that if I was in their shoes and a “fuck it all” moment like that hit me, there’s a good chance that like that character allegedly did, I would cross a line and potentially betray one of my own values. I’m not that character and I can’t know exactly what that character feels, but having experienced what I have, I do think and feel like it is entirely possible that they are guilty of doing some horrible things. That’s what self-destructive behavior is and that’s why it’s a symptom of someone who needs help. In-canon with the story as well, the in-world author notes that they wanted to write a complex background and story for that character with reasons for why they ended up making horrible choices, but couldn’t for various reasons so all that was really seen was actions without context. To me, a more complex story that it sounds like that author wanted to write would be a deep exploration of that character struggling with their self-destructive behavior, self-loathing, and feelings of inadequacies. It would even be expressive or cathartic to readers who are struggling as well. The character not actually doing something and was “framed” or misunderstood by a jealous other character doesn’t sound like the complex backstory that the author said that they wanted to write. I’m not really sure what it is, but this exchange with this other user because they couldn’t see or understand self-destructive behavior really made me think that they’ve been lucky enough to never actually have to deal with it before. I can’t be sure, but it’s like, people who struggle speak the same language in some way.

So yeah, there’s all that too. It brought back some dark memories I needed to put some distance from too. I love the character a lot, but those were some painful memories I didn’t want to revisit or talk about. That way of thinking is so real to me though and I remember back to when I was capable of it. It scares me and I’m glad I got help and was able to get out of it and overcome to have a more peaceful life now, but I remember seeing that darkness in me. I’m very lucky mine I managed to only manifest in the most minimal of ways, but untreated it could have been worse. I suspect that in that character’s case, they experience the worst.

#postitforward #remembering my own mental health story

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sunlightwoo · 5 years ago

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Wild Hearts (19/31)

taglist: @cupidhaos @hannie-dul-set @luckygardenervoid @uglyratlmao

wc: 1543

MASTERLIST | PREVIOUS | NEXT

Taking a seat in the audience, I watched as the seats continued to get filled up by the second knowing that it was one of the biggest events of the year. It didn’t hit me until the loud roars of screams that they already started the other races before the last one of the night as I watched the techniques that each of the two individuals had to offer for the big race.

Taeyong was loud, reckless and had no remorse as to what has happened to the other racers in the past races, as long as he found a way to stay in the lead. He was completely different from Seokmin because his techniques were different and more dangerous. His was more smooth, practical, but also logical as he maneuvered his way through the different courses and won his portion of the races.

However when it slowly came down to the biggest event of the night, it was almost neck to neck for records as they both carried close speed records in terms of finishing. I was able to hear everyone else’s comments on either individual, whether it be about their visuals or techniques, I wanted to leave only to want to watch the big event I anticipated for like some of the other individuals in the crowd as well.

“Tonight we have Thunderbolt,” The referee calls out gesturing towards Taeyong and his car before facing Seokmin and his, “Heading against newcomer, Egotisic! Who’s to say that this will be a very tight race? Bets will be placed now as the race will start in ten minutes!”

A loud sound of my heart beating against my chest made it harder for me to swallow the lump in my throat as I watched as people started to gush about both Taeyong and Seokmin. However, it didn’t occur to me until seconds later that he used the nickname I gave him as his racer name, which somehow created a small heat onto my cheeks before I shook my head and got up to look for him down at the sides.

Walking down, I looked around to see where he could’ve been and once I saw the familiar outfit I grew adapted to these past couple of weeks, I was able to find him talking to Jeonghan about who knows what. For a second, they looked like they were in a serious conversation and that they were angrily whispering to each other about a topic, however once Seokmin locked eyes with me, he stopped talking to Jeonghan and sent a smile my way.

“Sparky, you made it!”

This causes Jeonghan to turn around with a surprised expression as he looks at me for a second, only to smirk a bit knowing that the outfit I wore was the one I always did then when I competed. For a split second, it was as though he was impressed that I came out here, but that didn’t stop him from speaking up his thoughts and whatever was on his mind.

“I’m surprised, Princess. I thought this wasn’t your scene anymore.” He muses making a gesture towards the arena as I playfully rolled my eyes at his words before speaking up.

“I’m here to watch Seokmin go against Taeyong and win. We all know that we want to watch that asshole lose.” I retorted smiling and crossed my arms in front of me as Seokmin chuckles to himself.

“Not gonna lie, he’s a pretty good racer if he didn’t race the way that he does,” He starts off and looks onto the race track as I notice his facial expression fall a little bit, “I’m just a bit nervous that something might happen when I’m out there trying to win.”

I placed my hand on his shoulder comfortingly as I gave him a small smile before speaking up with a cheerful tone, “You’re going to be fine. With the way that you’ve been racing tonight, there’s no way that you’re going to lose against Taeyong. Besides the five hundred grand cash prize sounds pretty good to me as a way to pay off my college debts.”

He nods in response smiling back at me and sighs to himself before looking back at Jeonghan. The two shared a look that I couldn’t quite decipher, but that didn’t stop them from having frowns on each of their faces. Before I can ask, I notice Seokmin look at someone behind me with a smug look and once I turned around, I looked at Taeyong who had been smiling innocently the entire time with his arms crossed.

“This is your car, Lee?” He asks him gesturing towards the Maserati that he originally took from me as he walks over to look at it more, “It’s cute, but do you think it can win the competition in a minute?”

“As long as I’m the one driving it, you’re going down Taeyong.” Seokmin smirks in response and I watched the two have some sort of stare off as I felt Jeonghan tug my arm a bit motioning towards the seats.

Just when I was about to turn around, I watched as Taeyong and Seokmin get engaged into a conversation as I knew that by the time they were done, it would’ve already been time for the race to start. So I went with Jeonghan to where he sat earlier closeby to the sides and sighed a bit to myself as I zoned out once the referee started to talk again to announce the start of the final big race between them.

“I don’t think I can watch it.” I mumbled into my hands while covering my face as I heard the familiar revving of the cars getting ready to start.

Seconds turned into a minute as the crowd started to progressively get louder and louder, which made me anxious but also curious about how the race had been turning out. The one minute mark made me feel tempted enough to remove my hands as I noticed that Seokmin had been leading the race. A smile began to draw at the corner of my lips as I watched with excitement slowly in my veins, mentally praying that he’d make it safe.

By the time it was the final lap, both Taeyong and Seokmin were already neck and neck as nobody else was able to tell who was closer as both cars continuously scraped against each other. It wasn’t until Seokmin gave Taeyong one last shove and stepped on the gas as he ran through the finish line, placing himself as the champion of the night.

“Oh my god, he won!” I cheered loudly hugging Jeonghan who was beside me and he cheered as well as we both got up and ran down the stairs getting ready to congratulate Seokmin.

However, by the time that the referee was about to grab the cash prize and trophy, I watched as Taeyong got out of his car and pressed a button on his car key ring, in which then made me realize that this is what he must’ve had planned all night.

“Seokmin!”

It felt as though my heart fell into my stomach as I watched Taeyong’s driverless car crash into the passenger side of Seokmin’s car while his car began to spiral out into the grass of the middle of the area. There were gasps let out from the audience, but I knew better and started running over towards where he was when I felt someone grab onto my wrist as I turned to see Jeonghan who was giving me a small look.

“Y/N, you can’t. The cops are going to be here-”

“But we need to help him, idiot. Help me bring him to my car so I can take him to the hospital.” I say moving my hand out of his grip and he sighs before running beside me to help grab Seokmin out from his side of the car.

As Jeonghan was grabbing Seokmin out, I noticed the scratches that were on his face along with the blood that had been gushing out from his side as if he had been stabbed prior to this while I was in shock, until I realized that there was no time.

Shaking my head out of my thoughts, I helped him carefully carry Seokmin towards where I parked my car and unlocked it quickly as the sounds of police sirens were beginning to near.

Without thinking, I immediately got into the driver’s seat and started it while I started to drive once I heard Jeonghan close the doors from behind him. Adrenaline once more started to run through my veins as I sped out of the arena and off to the hospital, hopefully in time before he would lose more blood than he already had.

“There wasn’t any blood stains inside the car, was there?” I quietly asked Jeonghan beside me and I heard him hum a bit before answering.

“No traces whatsoever, so that none of us will get caught.” He replies as I nodded a bit before trying to take deep breaths and start to turn into the hospital that was luckily nearby.

“Great, cause I am never doing this shit again for anybody.”

#wild hearts #seventeen imagines #seventeen scenarios #seventeen fluff #seventeen angst #street racer au #seventeen college au #seventeen social media au #lee seokmin #seokmin imagines #seokmin scenarios #seokmin fluff #seokmin angst #jeonghan #joshua #seungkwan

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bikethevote · 6 years ago

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Bike The Vote L.A. Endorsement - Sarah Kate Levy for City Council District 4

2020 Los Angeles CD4 Endorsement: Sarah Kate Levy

Primary Election day: Tuesday, March 3, 2020 7am-8pm Find your Council District: http://neighborhoodinfo.lacity.org/ Find your polling place: http://lavote.net/locator

Los Angeles’ oddly gerrymandered Council District 4 stretches from Sherman Oaks and Toluca Lake through the Hollywood Hills and down a sliver of Hollywood into Miracle Mile, Hancock Park, and Koreatown; and through Griffith Park into Los Feliz and Silver Lake. Home to some of the most hotly contested active transportation corridors in the city, it’s been represented since 2015 by Councilmember David Ryu, who replaced termed-out Councilmember Tom LaBonge.

Bike The Vote L.A. sent questionnaires to announced CD4 candidates, asking them to outline their vision for a safer, more equitable, and more sustainable transportation system. Challenger Sarah Kate Levy’s response was so outstanding that Bike The Vote L.A.’s CD4 Election Committee has taken the rare step of making an early endorsement in next year’s primary election, set for March 3rd, 2020.

Levy has a long track record as a political activist working with Democrats for Neighborhood Action, Planned Parenthood Advocacy, and serving as the current president of the L.A. Metro National Women’s Caucus. Levy has placed housing, transportation, sustainability, and quality of life at the center of her campaign platform, and clearly done the homework necessary to be an informed leader on each of these important topics.

Levy’s impressive response to Bike The Vote L.A. outlines her determination to achieve Vision Zero by reducing deadly speeding, reorienting streets towards the safety of all road users, and creating a network of protected bike lanes. Levy makes it clear that her vision of L.A.’s transportation system is one where everyone has access to quality transit, one that isn’t designed around travel by cars, and one where children are able to walk and bike safely to school without the threat of death or serious injury.

Council District 4 has seen a marked shift in public support for safe streets over the past few years, with widespread support for the successful Rowena bike lanes in Silver Lake, championing of local roadway safety projects by neighborhood councils in Los Feliz and Mid City West, and the election of a progressive leadership slate to the Silver Lake Neighborhood Council. After years of a mixed record on safe streets, incumbent Councilmember David Ryu—who voted against L.A.’s Mobility Plan 2035 in November 2015 and killed a much-needed road diet for 6th Street—has recently appeared to shift his stance on safe streets by definitively backing the Rowena road diet after funding a study to question its effectiveness.

We applaud Councilmember Ryu’s newfound support for the Rowena road diet, which was implemented under his predecessor. But unfortunately, new bike and pedestrian infrastructure in CD4 has come at a dismal pace under Ryu’s leadership. Should Councilmember Ryu be re-elected, we encourage him to take a more proactive role in making the case for new speed calming infrastructure, protected bike lanes, and roadway safety reconfigurations throughout CD4.

We asked the candidates for their positions on implementation of projects that reduce deadly vehicle speeds on L.A.’s High Injury Network and safe bike infrastructure connecting to the L.A. River Path. Where Councilmember Ryu’s responses left his stance unclear, Levy expressed unwavering support for these critical projects. Levy also went a step further, outlining a number of additional projects she plans to implement in each of CD4’s neighborhoods. In her words, "Safer streets save lives, period."

After years of inaction on Vision Zero, the City of Los Angeles is at a crossroads for determining whether it will take the bold steps necessary to end roadway deaths by 2025. With her determined, clear-headed support for the tangible, on-the-ground changes needed to make that vision a reality, Levy is the type of leader L.A. has been looking for. Bike The Vote L.A. is honored to endorse Sarah Kate Levy for Los Angeles City Council District 4.

Sarah Kate Levy Questionnaire Response:

1. Los Angeles Metro is constructing and planning multiple transit lines through CD4, including the Purple Line extension, the East Valley Transit Corridor, the Sepulveda corridor line, and the northern extension of the Crenshaw Line. How do you plan to solve the first mile/last mile problem and connect riders to these lines?

As a regular DASH-to-the-Red-Line rider myself, I will advocate for low-cost DASH routes to service all these lines, and I am following with interest the LANow shuttle pilot that is operating on the Westside. I will also insist upon dockless bike and scooter rentals at each station, as well as bike corrals. Most importantly, I will be a champion for creating a network of protected bike lanes across the district that could safely deliver cyclists and scooter-riders to and from these lines.

All Angelenos and visitors to our city should be able to access transit without relying on cars (and parking lots). I would prefer we holistically create a plan to solve first mile/last mile issues rather than let commercial rideshare solely fill the void. As our city holds the distinction for having the worst air quality in the nation, we must do all we can to make public transit convenient, and affordable - or free - to fight the effects that vehicle pollution has wrought on our public health. We must act locally to stall climate change.

2. News outlets are reporting that 242 Angelenos were killed in car crashes in 2018, showing that L.A. has failed to make significant progress towards Vision Zero since adopting the policy in 2015. Why do LA's streets remain so deadly by design? What would you do to make them safer?

L.A. streets remain dangerous because they prioritize cars over people, at the cost of all other modes of transit, from bus and train, to bike, scooter, and foot travel.

Speed limits are too high, too many roads function as busy highways cutting through our neighborhoods. Drivers go many long blocks without crosswalks, stop signs, or stop lights to slow them. Not only is car travel less safe on these fast-moving roads, but because of the drastic lengths between safe crossing points, pedestrians, cyclists, and scooter-riders are encouraged to dash across moving traffic.

This continued focus on cars over people has led us to build out roadways to accommodate even more cars, and create more congestion. Frustrated drivers take dangerous maneuvers through traffic to save time, putting everyone around them at risk.

Our current leadership knows Vision Zero is meant to alleviate these problems -- but they have repeatedly bowed to political pressure over the safety of our residents.

I will fight to make our streets safer by adding more safe crossings for pedestrians, especially in our commercial districts, to encourage people to walk and shop. I will champion protected bike lanes, in a contiguous network throughout the city. I will work with Metro to create protected bus lanes. And I will do all I can to support efforts at the state level to give us more control over our municipal street speeds.

Safer streets save lives, period. Plus they make commuting through this city simpler for all Angelenos.

3. Los Angeles’ traffic woes are compounded by the reality that many parents and students don’t feel safe allowing their children to walk or bike to school. Why do you think this is? What would you do as councilmember to improve active transportation options around schools?

As a mother of four kids, I think it is unacceptable that children continue to die while walking to school in this city. Traffic moves too quickly down many of our streets. Our sidewalks are often narrow, cracked, and absent of tree-cover, creating unsafe conditions for pedestrians. The majority of our existing bike lanes are no safer. I am in favor of traffic calming measures throughout the city, and especially near our schools.

Our schools should all be serviced by our network of protected bike lanes so that parents and children can bike to and from school.

When examining where to plant new trees, school zones should be a priority, to encourage students and their parents to commute by foot.

Crosswalks near school property should be signaled and lit. I will also pursue other strategies, including crosswalks painted with 3-D effects that make flat paint appear to be solid barriers.

School-zones should feature stop signs and crosswalks at every corner within the legislated area of the school-zone, but we should also consider expanding that practice beyond the posted zone, keeping traffic moving more slowly in a wider radius to our schools.

4. Neighborhood councils in CD4, including Silver Lake, Mid City West, and Los Feliz, have all shown strong support for a more bikeable CD4. Despite this, the few bike lanes in CD4 are discontinuous and dump riders out into dangerous thoroughfares. What do you see as the impediments to building out the adopted Mobility Plan 2035’s network of bike infrastructure? Which of the connections in CD4 do you see as a priority and will you push for as councilmember?

I will champion Mobility Plan 2035 even in the face of negative public opinion because I am committed to making all streets in Council District 4 safe. I will not be deterred by a loud minority when it comes to making choices that will improve the community for everybody.

If each community has a school, a business district, or a park, then we should plan for safe bike and pedestrian travel to, from, and around those places. These efforts will keep Angelenos safe and connected to their community. Increased foot and bike traffic in our communities is a boon to public health, mental health, and business, too.

To successfully build out a network of protected bike lanes, I will prioritize streets in the High Injury Network first.

I see Silver Lake / Los Feliz as the logical place to start. The existing road diet on Rowena has engendered some political support, which has, in turn, led the push for more improvements. By doing more work here, we will show the rest of the district, and the city, how much safer our streets can be.

SILVER LAKE / LOS FELIZ

I’d extend the road diet on Rowena/Lakewood to Glendale Boulevard and Fletcher -- this could be done without much disruption to traffic flow and would also connect the bike lanes on Silver Lake Blvd to Rowena (and ideally, to Atwater).

The bike lanes on Silver Lake Blvd from Glendale to Van Pelt should be protected lanes. This easy improvement will reap great rewards in public opinion, which will allow for more work.

I’d push for bike lanes on Glendale & Fletcher to the LA River Path (see 5A).

Mobility Plan 2035 calls for bike lanes on Hyperion. The street may be too narrow to support parking-protected bike lanes, but we do need to connect the lanes on Rowena to Griffith Park Blvd. I will work with the community stakeholders and city planners to see how we can make a safe connection on Hyperion.

Re-paving Griffith Park Boulevard is a also priority, for cyclists and drivers alike.

Once all these connections are in place, connecting bike lanes on Silver Lake Blvd to Glendale / Rowena, and to Rowena / Hyperion / Griffith Park Blvd / LA River Path, we will start to see a connected bike system.

MID CITY / MIRACLE MILE

At the very least, the 4th Street “Bike Boulevard” intersections at Highland and Rossmore should get full traffic signals.

Traffic diverters on some sections of 4th Street are also worth considering, not only to make the “Bike Boulevard” safer to bikes, but also as a hedge against cut-through traffic.

Mid City West Community Council has been working on creating “bike friendly” streets, including Formosa Ave / Cochran Ave. I would strongly advocate implementing the $2.3M Metro grant for Formosa / Cochran, which calls for full bike lanes, as quickly as possible.

I am fully in support of a road diet on 6th Street between La Brea and Fairfax. (See 5B).

Once we see 4th Street / Formosa / Cochran / 6th Street, again, we begin to see a connected network of bike lanes.

SHERMAN OAKS / TOLUCA LAKE

Connecting cyclists to the LA River Path is a major priority in the Valley, as a way to connect to other communities.

Mobility Plan 2035 calls for bike lanes on Ventura Boulevard. There are a lot of changes I would like to see to make Ventura safer, including those bike lanes, and connecting them to the existing lanes on Woodman and Riverside. I would also build out better-protected infrastructure to those lanes.

Crossings should be installed to connect disconnected portions of the LA River Path, including on Kester between the riverfront trail and Ernie’s Walk.

5. Please respond to the following questions regarding specific CD4 corridors with known safety issues:

5A. Bike lanes on Rowena Ave. and Silver Lake Blvd. both terminate at Glendale Blvd., leaving a dangerous gap between these lanes and the L.A. River Path. Despite L.A.’s future plans for revitalization of the Los Angeles River, there are no bike lanes that access the entire segment of the L.A. River Path between Elysian Valley and Glendale. What will you do as councilmember to actively push for bike lanes on Glendale Blvd. and Fletcher Dr. to provide families with safe access by bike to the L.A. River Path?

Creating safe access by bike to the LA River Path will be a priority for my office. Regular cyclists demand it, and for many families, the LA River Path is a preferred recreational route, too.

I support a road diet on Glendale Boulevard that would add bike lanes, ADA compliant sidewalks, and a center turn lane. The center turn lane would improve traffic flow and safety for cars turning left onto Riverside; the bike lanes would not only connect to the River Path, but also connect Silver Lake and Atwater. As there is minimal parking along this stretch, I would push for the bike lanes to be designed as protected bike lanes, to keep families safe as they crossed to the LA River Path.

5B. Despite unanimous support from the Mid City West Community Council for a road diet on 6th Street to provide an important connection to LACMA and to West Hollywood, and in response to 3 fatalities on the street over 5 years, the office of Council District 4 opted instead for a modest plan that added left turn pockets at one intersection. Will you implement the LADOT-recommended road diet?

Yes. This stretch of road is part of the High Injury Network. The road diet was supported by the MCWCC, who conducted a lot of outreach to get the neighborhood behind it. I will push for a plan that includes bike lanes.

5C. Hyperion Ave. was recently the site of a horrific crash that took the life of local grandmother, Cristina Garcia. Citing the unsafe conditions of Hyperion, the Los Feliz Neighborhood Council has repeatedly called for safety improvements to this street, which LADOT has determined is part of the High Injury Network. Speed is the predominant factor in determining whether a crash is deadly. Would you support a road diet reconfiguration of Hyperion Ave. to reduce speeding and improve the safety of pedestrians, people on bikes, and turning drivers?

Yes. I am angry, but not surprised, that the community asked the Councilmember for help, repeatedly, and were met with silence. I’m also angered by the recent LADOT report that tried to wipe the City of blame by citing rain and speed as the culprits in Cristina Garcia’s death. Rain is an act of god, but speed is a factor the City can control -- and should have. They knew this road was unsafe. Cristina Garcia should not be dead.

6. Over the past year, we have seen increased use of privately owned and shared mobility electric scooters throughout Los Angeles. What role do you see for this emerging transportation technology, and how can the City of Los Angeles act to ensure safe mobility for all road users during a time when many Angelenos are making shifts in their mobility choices?

The scooters are here to stay (until the next wave of mobility tech arrives). I believe that the new City rules that put scooters in the street are irresponsible in the extreme. I already worry for cyclists sharing the road, and I have that same fear for scooter riders.

Regardless of which tech wins, the only way to keep scooter riders safe is to build out a network of protected bike lanes that scooter riders can share with cyclists.

#bikethevote #LACD4

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ikesenhell · 6 years ago

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High Wire

Bloodline, Chapter 10 and the Finale. You can find all other IkeSen works of mine here. NOTE: Gun violence, explosives, blood, death, etc, all are featured in this. Potential major character death.

It was sheer luck alone that the Takeda-Uesugi unit and Masamune were both free and within the three hour window. Masamune arrived first at the cabin. No doubt he’d broken a couple driving laws to get there, but Ieyasu was unspeakably grateful for it.

“Got here as fast as I could. Mitsuhide brought me up to speed.” Masamune stripped off the dress shirt he wore and untucked the undershirt from his jeans. “Had to get out of a Pentagon thing, but I couldn’t leave you hanging here. What’s the plan?”

“Once the other team gets here I’ll fill you in.”

It didn’t take long. The other four descended on the location only a half hour later, and the small group piled around the small cabin kitchen table. Fortunately she’d been paying enough attention to the bunker layout that she managed a relatively good map. Kenshin, Shingen, and Masamune winced at it.

“That’s not much space.”

“There’s a word for that in Spanish that my mom taught me,” Masamune half joked, “’Shitty’. Shitty is the word.”

“Yeah, that’s a hell of a terrible position to be in,” Shingen agreed. “Sasuke, would you...?”

The man didn’t respond; he just nodded and shouldered his rifle, heading out the front door. Yuki followed close behind him with a wave and a, “I’ll be his spotter!”

Ieyasu scowled at the map. “The issue is this; from what I’m understanding of the phone call I fielded, they’re not only aware of my presence here, but I’m interpreting it as a direct threat on the real Tokugawa.”

“I wouldn’t be surprised if they decided to off him,” Kenshin answered idly. “He’s a liability.”

Masamune patted himself down for cigarettes and lit one, opening the window. “Yeh. We don’t have much time to get him out, but that bunker is a death trap. I don’t know what we can do here without a little intervention.”

---

Dr. Tokugawa was not the kind of man that liked being in someone else’s hands, and he was aware now more than ever that he was just a loose end in freefall. If he’d identified that strange woman as a possible ally (and god forbid if he were wrong, but he was very, very certain in the near two-decades of captivity that she was a safe bet), it was only a very short time until everyone else knew what he’d done.

No time to second guess. Now was the time to act.

The cameras on him were constantly monitored. Messing with it would render the situation very tenuous indeed. Instead he focused on doing exactly what his captors always wanted him to do: making a bomb.

This one was small scale, to be certain, but that didn’t matter. All the components were there. He’d put off doing the damn thing so long that he was very sure no one thought him capable of creating it in such tight time constraints, but he knew exactly what he was doing.

Almost two hours later, he had something.

Now time was of the essence. At last, Dr. Tokugawa slipped off his lab coat and flung it up toward the camera. Success! It caught there, obscuring his movements. As swiftly as he dared with the high-yield ordinance, he crossed the room and tacked the bomb to the door, locking it three times over.

No more would they try and use him.

With a shaking hand, he scrawled a note on a piece of paper and slid it under the door. If you attempt to open this door and remove me, the resulting explosion will level the whole bunker.

If the FBI were here, it would lend them valuable time.

---

It was nearly midnight when Yukimura radioed back to the others in the cabin.

“There’s activity here,” he whispered. “Lots of it. People are packing up boxes into a couple of vans.”

“It doesn’t seem smart to evacuate,” Kenshin mused, but they threw on their coats anyway. Even she went to join them, but Ieyasu shook his head.

Masamune shrugged and double checked the chamber of his shotgun. “I’m assuming they think they’ve got a bit of a head start until we are like flies on them. I don’t know how much food they’ve got down there, but I guess they figure it’s just as dangerous to stay under and risk getting stuck.”

“If that were the thought, I’d imagine they’d have started evacuating well before now.”

Ieyasu’s skin prickled uneasily. “It’s because of me.”

Kenshin narrowed those mismatched eyes at him. “And why is that?”

“They know I’m here. I have to be part of their leverage on--on him.” He couldn’t bring himself to call this stranger his Uncle yet, but the word hung heavy on the tip of his tongue. “Now that they don’t have my cooperation or ignorance, there’s no incentive to keep him in line. He’s going to be killed.”

Shingen handed out a couple walkie-talkies. “No point in speculation. We’ve got an assumed hostage to save, and there’s no saying how long they’ll keep him alive. We should get the drop on them while they’re in transit.”

---

No more sneaking. When the vans rattled down the street, the small strike team was ready for gunfire. Their opponent didn’t disappoint. In the blue darkness, bright orange flashes cracked out over the lumber yard.

“Contact!” Shingen shouted into the radio.

“On it,” Yukimura huffed back.

KRA-KOW! Return fire lanced from the forest, no doubt from Sasuke. Ieyasu barely waited for the transport to stop before he flung open the van door.

“I’m point!” Masamune vaulted out of the door and kicked off the main event with shotgun spray. Screams echoed in the mountain dark. Ieyasu sprinted to cover in the lumber yard and nearly slammed into one of the terrorists; without a second thought he brought the butt of his pistol crashing down into the man’s skull. His target crumpled. Ieyasu licked his lips and tasted blood.

“Got the southern point!”

“Clearing in through the far end,” Masamune followed up in the radio. “Encountering pretty heavy resistance.”

Kenshin’s voice slipped in not long after. “We’re not seeing the hostage. Assumed that he’s still below. Probable high risk. Sasuke and I will push through to the underground and try to make contact while you distract up here.”

“That’s a fucking suicide mission,” Yukimura snapped.

“Yep.” Ieyasu unloaded a single shot into another terrorist, taking mental note of the bullet count. “I’m coming with.”

The three men converged at the edge of the office. Her notes had been very good; they found the door without difficulty, still propped open. Kenshin took point. Down the narrow stairs they went, the three of them gunning down resistance until the walls were spattered with entrails and bodies slowed their descent. Gunfire echoed against steel and concrete until Ieyasu’s ears rang from impact, his senses dulled from adrenaline and recoil.

“How many are there?” Kenshin asked wearily. “This is a much larger bunker than I’d thought.”

They reached the landing and encountered.... nothing. The silence was eerie. No guards awaited them, no resistance--just three turrets pointed at a door that she’d indicated to them was the lab. They were in time. If the terrorists had planned on killing his real uncle, they hadn’t yet.

Ieyasu nearly ran to it, but Kenshin latched a hand around his shoulder and pointed at the door. “I wouldn’t.”

There, perched on the outside of the door, was a massive bomb.

“Fuck,” Ieyasu muttered. No wonder they were evacuating. The organization had plans on just leveling the damn place--Dr. Tokugawa inside. “Fuck.”

“It’s got a timer.” Sasuke gazed through his scope. “We’ve got about twenty minutes.”

“How far out would the nearest team for that be?”

“At least four hours, if we could even get them on radio, what with the Quiet Zone.”

Kenshin clicked his tongue. “Right.”

“I can take a good crack at it.” Sasuke shouldered his weapon and crept cautiously closer, investigating. “I’m not an expert, but I can try.”

“Is there anyone even in there still?”

That was a good point. The very real possibility that they’d just executed his uncle to begin with surged cold in Ieyasu’s blood. As carefully as he dared, he snuck closer to the door and called out, “Tokugawa?”

A beat. For a moment, it seemed like his fears were justified.

“That’s me,” came a voice from the other side. “Who is out there?”

He almost couldn’t speak. What could he even say? Hi. I’m your nephew. We’ve never met, but I’ve wanted to meet you my whole life. We have everything to catch back up on. Will you be proud of me? Can we be the family I thought I’d never have? What happened to my parents?

Instead Ieyasu just cleared his throat. “FBI. We’re, uh.... Sarutobi, Uesugi, and, uh.... Tokugawa.”

A pause. “Ieyasu?”

He held his breath until he was very sure he wouldn’t cry. “Yeah.”

“Oh.” The man inside the room sounded just as emotional. “Oh. Gee. I sure wish we were talking on better terms right now.”

Sasuke pried open the casing to the bomb, investigating the wiring with a sigh. “Mr. Tokugawa, your odds right now aren’t excellent. Are you aware there is a bomb on the outside of this door?”

“And the inside.” He laughed faintly. “I set mine up to make sure I had leverage, so I can disable it, but that one--I don’t know what they’ve got going on there. I guess it figures. I assumed I’d at least force them out into an arrest.”

Above ground, Ieyasu heard the sound of something exploding. God damn and bless Masamune Date in equal measure. “Well, you did make some things easier for us.”

“Listen.” The voice inside grew very serious. “Ieyasu--Ieyasu, I’m sorry, your mom, your father--they didn’t make it.”

He balled his hands into fists. “I figured.”

“They held on for a very long time, but they were only being kept to try and make sure I’d make this bomb. I’m so sorry, Ieyasu.”

“Hell,” Sasuke muttered at the bomb, squinting at the wires. “You two should probably evacuate, just in case this doesn’t work and it detonates.”

“I’m not leaving,” Ieyasu announced firmly. “I’m staying. And you don’t need to apologize to me, it wasn’t your fault.”

“It was. If I’d never written that scientific journal...” He paused. “They picked me because back in the eighties, I wrote a study on the properties of combustion and other chemical compounds--I was an expert--”

“Bad luck. I get it.”

“Right.” And Dr. Tokugawa paused again. “They told me you graduated Summa Cum Laude. I’m proud of you.”

Hot tears stung his eyes, but Ieyasu swallowed them back. “Thanks. We’re going to get you out of here.”

“Evacuate. I mean it. There’s no guarantee--”

“I’m not leaving,” Ieyasu snapped savagely. “I’ve waited twenty years to meet my real uncle. I’m not letting a door hold me back.”

Sasuke muttered a curse and prepped his hand around part of the machine. “Moment of truth, gents. It’s been a pleasure.”

“Likewise,” Kenshin agreed, not moving.

Exhaling deep, Sasuke pulled.

---

The cool fall wind whipped through her hair. She stood on the corner of the street and inhaled deeply, letting the crackle of the leaves skitter around her shoes. For a moment the whole world was still and quiet in a way it hadn’t been in months. The sunlight danced over her cheeks and turned her into a vision of light.

But he couldn’t stare forever.

Ieyasu shoved his hand into his pocket and took her other one in his, entwining their fingers. She blinked and smiled at him.

“Parking meter reupped?”

“Meters with no mobile option should be criminalized,” he huffed. “No one carries around all those quarters and nickles anymore.”

That got a smile from her. She squeezed his hand twice, brushing the hair back from her face. “You and your uncle really do sound alike.”

Ieyasu soaked in the idea that he sounded like someone in his family at last. He and his uncle were spitting images of one another, proof positive of his resemblance to his father’s side of the family. Even after all those years apart they did have some of the same mannerisms. Nearly two decades of captivity had done a number on the older man, but now--now he could heal. Now they could know each other.

He thumbed at the hospital. “That one isn’t so bad, as far as hospitals go.”

“I imagine any hospital is better than being kept in an underground bunker. He seemed to be doing quite well, all the trauma considered. I guess the Tokugawas are just a tough bunch.”

He wrinkled his nose at her teasing and gathered her in his arms. “Listen here.”

Her smile was sunlight itself. “I’m listening.”

What could he say to that? As gently as he dared, he leaned in and kissed her once, twice, three times, each of them lasting longer and delving deeper. By the time he pulled away, she was flushed and panting from want.

“Unfair,” she murmured. “We’re in public. I can’t have what I want here.”

“I should think not. I’m not Shingen Takeda.”

She laughed and swayed back and forth in his arms. “So what now? Wanna go get lunch?”

“Mm, maybe.” There were ten thousand places to take her nearby. Where to start? He knew a couple of bartenders in the area, and there was a great grill... Ieyasu checked his phone, suddenly regretting putting more coins in the meter. “Actually, I’ve got a thought.”

“What’s that?”

“I never did get to take you to that breakfast place on the mountain.”

She paused, eyes wide. “Oh my god. No, you didn’t.”

“Yeah.” He huffed a laugh. Between all of the insanity in the bunker and the subsequent arrest and prosecution of his former ‘uncle’, the idea of breakfast had entirely slipped his mind for the last few months. But now? Now they had time, time to really enjoy and share. He dropped a kiss on her forehead. “I’ll just call in to work tomorrow. I’m going to have you to myself for a while.”

Her eyes glittered in the bright light. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. You deserve it.”

#Ikesen #Ikemen Sengoku #Ikesen modern au #ikesen spy au #Ikesen Ieyasu #Ieyasu Tokugawa #Spy Ieyasu #Bloodlines #Bloodline #High Wire #ikesen fanfiction #my writing #violence tw #blood tw #kenshin uesugi #sasuke sarutobi #shingen takeda #masamune date #yukimura sanada

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verdigrisprowl · 6 years ago

Text

Handcuffs

This technically happened the night of Sept 10, but it took until October for us to RP it, November for us to finish it, and December for me to post it. Fuzzytime!!!

Soundwave wants to experiment with wearing handcuffs with Prowl. Considering that he has a very bad history with imprisonment, this has a pretty high probability of going wrong somehow. Prowl negotiates the parameters for the scene as carefully as he can in order to minimize the chance that something will happen that makes Soundwave freak out.

Soundwave freaks out.

But it’s a very good first try! An excellent, informative, and encouraging experience all around. Very positive. Except for the freak out.

verdigrisprowl 5:36 pm

((continuing on from https://verdigrisprowl.tumblr.com/post/178160753964/sept-10-dancitron-movie-night-gotham-19-20 ))

Prowl continued holding Soundwave's servo well after the space bridge shut, and gave it a squeeze as he stopped and turned to face him. "We're going to be doing a fair amount of talking first. Do you want to sit, stand...?"

slenderwave 5:49 pm

Soundwave squeezed back and glanced around himself as if he expected there to be more seats than usual in his sparsely furnished quarters. Not knowing what Prowl's definition of 'fair amount' was, he opted to sit and parked himself on the edge of his berth without comment, setting his free hand on his lap and nodding. Prowl had his full, focused attention.

verdigrisprowl 5:55 pm

Well. Usually the point of negotiations is to stay *away* from the berth, but considering the available options, he'd make an exception. He sat on the far end of the berth, turned sideways with one leg folded on the berth to face Soundwave.

Okay. First item on the checklist. "For starters—are you in a good physical and mental state? Well-rested, well-fueled, not presently unduly stressed, et cetera?"

slenderwave 6:01 pm

Soundwave watched Prowl make himself comfortable, both pleased with and concerned by the fact that Prowl had also chosen to sit.

[[He is.]] How could he not be? He'd laughed himself to pieces during the animated short, and there was nothing else stressing him. It'd been a good night, overall. [[He is as well-rested as he usually is. He has had plenty of fuel and does not consider himself under strain.]]

verdigrisprowl 6:04 pm

"Good. Same." All right. No more hand-holding, everyone gets his hand back to himself. It's time for serious negotiations.

"I know you have *some* experience with bondage—me, at a minimum. Do you have much experience being on the receiving end, though?"

slenderwave 6:12 pm

[[Good. He did not want to think he had dragged you into this against your interests.]] He knew it wasn't what Prowl preferred.

Aha. Time now for the difficult questions. Soundwave clasped his hands and sats up straighter, forcing himself to be as truthful as their rules demanded. [[...He does not, no. It is not a position he trusts many others - /any/ others, in fact - not to abuse. And he is - hm.]] His hands twitch. [[He has a history of responding poorly to imprisonment.]]

[[...But you, he thinks, would - that you are safe. Responsible.]]

verdigrisprowl 6:21 pm

Prowl nodded slowly, thinking over that. "In which case—we're going to be moving extremely slowly with this. Before we really get into negotiations, though—often when I'm negotiating boundaries with a new partner, one or both will bring along a—a friend, someone they trust, to serve as arbiter and advocate. Considering that we're NOT new partners to each other, I'm not going to mandate it; but we are DOING something new—with, I take it, a high risk of inadvertently crossing out of your comfort zone—so, if you think it would be beneficial to you to bring in someone in, you're welcome to."

He appreciated the trust, but it wasn't what was important here, and so passed uncommented on. Anyway, high trust called for hard work to continue to be worthy of it, not complacency.

slenderwave 6:29 pm

Oh, thank Primus for mechs with good sense capable of overriding their arrays. He would have balked had Prowl immediately tried to jump to - to dangling him from the ceiling with his optics off and his limbs bound, or something of that nature.

[[You take it correctly. He will call someone.]] A specific someone. The only one who wouldn't mind discussions of this nature, and had always been best at helping to keep him calm during moments of potential panic.

Another moment and a bridge opened to admit Ravage, who slunk forward and bunted Soundwave's leg with a grunt of acknowledgment. The big cat's cold, yellow optics fixed themselves on Prowl's face.

Both spoke at once. [[Proceed.]]

verdigrisprowl 6:43 pm

Prowl nodded in greeting as Ravage came through. Exactly the person he expected to see.

"Right. Let's talk limits. Considering that this is our first time trying this dynamic *and* it's one that's emotionally fraught for you, I think we're best off avoiding doing anything too emotionally strenuous. At a minimum, I recommend that the handcuffs be the only non-vanilla activity we involve tonight."

slenderwave 7:00 pm

Ravage had known him the longest, even interrupted by death, and still knew him best. Soundwave could count on Ravage to correctly interpret the smallest twitches and changes in scent... and, if need be, help free him and make their combined displeasure clear.

Soundwave hoped that wouldn't happen.

[[He agrees. There is much he would /like/ to do, but... it is best he does not let his imagination exceed his present stability.]] Some things had to remain a fantasy no matter how much a mech wanted them. If that ever turned out to be the case, so be it. He would always have his own mindscape. [[He would appreciate it if you do not keep perfectly silent while they are involved. It will be easier to remind himself that he is not where he once was if he knows it is you.]]

verdigrisprowl 7:05 pm

"That's a wise perspective to take. Without much experience in a submissive roll, of any kind, it's very easy to get carried away with all the things you'd like to do without considering whether or not you can handle it yet."

There's a funny story about how Prowl once spent a decade terrified of the concept of blindfolds and it's entirely his own fault.

"All right. Keep talking, keep you grounded in the present." Prowl nodded. "What else should I do? And—more importantly—what should I be avoiding? Anything—words, actions, and postures included."

slenderwave 7:26 pm

Soundwave nodded. If it was easy to get carried away on the one side - and he knew that it could be - it had to be just as easy to go too far on the other end of things as well.

He thought for a few minutes, conferring with Ravage now and again on points he wasn't sure about.

[[You may speak or demand with authority and control, but do not threaten to harm him or Ravage. If you require a setting, he tentatively permits you to act as if he is being arrested.]] Only because he mostly trusted Prowl not to be the kind of enforcer he'd run afoul of long ago. [[Do not include mentions of factions. Do nothing that appears as though you are unsheathing or reaching for weaponry. Do not touch his backpack.]] Some of those could change with time, if this went well, but for now, better they not happen.

verdigrisprowl 7:29 pm

Prowl leaned back, shaking his head. "Oh no. Absolutely no roleplay. I don't do roleplay. Unless I'm being begged for it AND I adequately trust my partner and the dynamic we have, but I'm not good at it and I don't enjoy it. The only setting is going to be right here, in this apartment." He paused. "... Or wherever we're going to do this. Here or somewhere else?"

slenderwave 7:36 pm

Soundwave slumped ever so slightly, relieved. He had hoped that wouldn't need to be a thing. He couldn't be altogether sure it wouldn't turn into more than he'd like this time. Only about 80%.

[[Good. Then you may leave the arrest off; he is not begging for it. Here is fine. Ravage has agreed to sit quietly at the far edge of the loft, on the storage staircase top step, if you will allow him to monitor this situation for danger.]]

verdigrisprowl 7:47 pm

It was enough of a slump that Prowl noticed it, and could guess what it meant. "... You shouldn't be suggesting anything you're not SURE you'd be comfortable with. I was going to go on to say that I have no intention of speaking or demanding with authority, either. I think your definition of 'vanilla except for the handcuffs' is a lot less vanilla than the definition that I was going for. You should keep your expectations dialed back to something you're comfortable with." He paused; then asked, "ARE you comfortable? With doing this at all? Because you proposed the arrest scenario like that was something you were comfortable with, and you're... obviously not. This isn't a situation for half-truths."

He gave another slight nod of acknowledgment to Ravage. "I'll not only allow it, I think it's a good idea." To Ravage, "Soundwave will be responsible for reporting on his own comfort levels, and even aside from his self-reports I'll be doing my best to monitor them; but if he can't or chooses not to report his condition and I'm unable to accurately read it, I'll be trusting you to step in on his behalf."

slenderwave 7:57 pm

[[He was mostly sure. He did not know if a different setting was necessary for this to work. He offered the one he most approved of in case it was. And you asked him what you could or could not do. He asked you to speak; better to know that he would not mind an authoritative tone in your speech than to have one and find out he would.]]

[[He is as comfortable as he can be before finding out whether or not this will work for him.]]

Ravage blinked once, listening to the portion directed mostly to him, then bobbed his head. =It is understood.=

verdigrisprowl 8:04 pm

"In that case, maybe I should rephrase. What do you WANT me to do, and what do you want me not to do? Besides what you already mentioned, unless that changes your answers."

slenderwave 8:17 pm

That was a little different. [[...He wants no setting but here, between us as we are. He wants to stay in the handcuffs as long as he can - /if/ he can - without panicking and to be certain that nothing terrible will happen while he is trapped in them, because you make it clear to him that /you/ will not permit it to do so, using any non-threatening language, tones, or posturing you deem useful for achieving that. He wants you to help create mutually pleasant memories with which to counter those of old. ... And he wants you to remain here overnight, however this turns out.]]

verdigrisprowl 8:21 pm

And that was a lot more like what Prowl was looking for. "I can and fully intend to do all of the above. With a 'maybe' on the staying overnight, in case I accidentally do something extremely wrong and you don't want to see me for the next three days." Sheurmiours tag.

"Which is another thing we should discuss: if I DO do something wrong, what do you want me to do? How should we proceed? I expect disengaging, giving you physical space, and letting Ravage get between us is a good starting point—yes?—but I don't know what else."

slenderwave 8:32 pm

Soundwave huffed. [[He accepts the 'maybe'.]]

[[...If you do something very wrong, or if he cannot handle the presence of the cuffs, remove them before you do /anything/ else. Do not back away without taking them off. If he has lost track of when and where he is, and you require assistance controlling him, Ravage will help you. Ravage knows how to find him. Then you must do all that you have said until one of us requests otherwise and gives specific details. If those requests or demands differ, trust Ravage's above his own. Ravage's optics and thoughts will be clearer than his at that time.]]

Severely panicked telepaths tend not to be in the right state for filtering outside thought.

verdigrisprowl 8:35 pm

"What if I'm unable to get them off of you in your current condition?" Prowl paused thoguhtfully. "... Maybe we should leave them unlatched. Or latched so loosely you can slide them off by yourself at any time. If it goes well, we can work you up to fully wearing handcuffs in the future. How does that sound?"

slenderwave 8:36 pm

He perked. [[Is that possible? The ability to slide them off himself without compromising their effect? That would be better.]]

He'd have less fear of hurting himself or others if he couldn't get free clogging his thoughts while in the middle of everything if they could do that. It was a good suggestion.

verdigrisprowl 8:43 pm

"Well. Strictly speaking, the ability to slide them off DOES compromise their intended effect. But it's possible, yes, especially with your wrists. We just won't ratchet them closed very far, and you'll have to put in a little work to keep them on yourself," Prowl said. "I enjoy the effort of keeping on loose or fragile restraints, personally, but—that's not the objective here."

slenderwave 8:47 pm

Soundwave lifted his wrists up and twisted them side to side, thinking. Maybe he'd like that too? It could be a - a game, of sorts, eventually. Something fun.

Yes. He'd hope for seeing them like that some day.

[[He accepts this. Thank you for suggesting it.]]

verdigrisprowl 8:48 pm

A nod, you're welcome. "And if you do need them removed and aren't in a mental state to do it yourself, it'll be much easier for me to get them off."

slenderwave 8:50 pm

[[It will.]] He glanced back toward Ravage, though he didn't really need to, and waited until he got a nod of approval before continuing. [[Is there anything else you must ask him now?]]

verdigrisprowl 8:55 pm

"Yes. Safe words. I always prefer just using normal language—'stop' and 'slow down' and 'wait' and so forth—but I don't know whether you have any preferences to the contrary."

slenderwave 9:01 pm

=Megatron,= Ravage blurted, just before throwing his head back and jaws open in a hearty (and somewhat nasty) laugh.

If Soundwave had twisted around any faster his entire torso would have snapped off. [[WHAT.]]

=A stop word.= He waggled a paw at the pair of them. =You see? It works, eh? Something out of place.= He dropped his paw and kept chuckling.

verdigrisprowl 9:04 pm

Hold on a moment, Prowl has to look completely in the opposite direction from both Soundwave and Ravage while he tries not to laugh.

slenderwave 9:06 pm

Soundwave can feel that, you know. Ravage isn't fussed one way or the other; he's still just laughing to himself.

The most begrudging response: [[...He supposes Ravage has a point. He would never say that for any other reason in situations such as these. Its purpose is unmistakable.]] And he didn't know if he would say 'stop' without actually meaning it. Soundwave vents. [[That and]] [][][]slow down[][][] [[it is.]]

verdigrisprowl 9:15 pm

"Ugh. It's funny, but—do we have to? Why not just 'stop' instead of some other arbitrary word?"

Prowl doesn't get along with arbitrary words. Prowl forgets arbitrary words. His grasp on language is tenuous as it is, and that's when he's not trying to navigate extremely complicated social maneuvers.

"Especially that one? I try to make a habit of not inviting genocidal warlords into my berthroom activities."

slenderwave 9:17 pm

[[...He does not yet know that he would say 'stop' only when he truly meant it.]] But he didn't want Prowl to have to hear that if it would spoil things. The b-word was equally repulsive, but he didn't care to risk summoning the damned thing by mentioning it aloud. [[Fine. We will see how it works.]]

verdigrisprowl 9:26 pm

"So say it when you don't mean it, and I'll stop anyway. It'll give us an opportunity to check in before we keep going. There will be time to experiment with other words on other nights."

slenderwave 9:26 pm

[[As you wish.]]

verdigrisprowl 9:29 pm

... That sounded more like acquiescing than agreeing. "If that's all right with you?"

slenderwave 9:30 pm

[[It is. We can decide on something else if or when it does not work.]]

[[Besides, he cannot think of anything else at the moment.]]

verdigrisprowl 9:32 pm

Prowl nodded. "All right. I think we're covered, then. Anything else you want to add?

slenderwave 9:34 pm

[[You are certain you are willing to do this with him? It is not asking too much of you?]]

verdigrisprowl 9:39 pm

"I'm certain. I'd *like* to. I just want to make sure that we've maximized the probability that it will be a good experience for you."

slenderwave 9:45 pm

[[Then he has nothing else to add, because he believes that we have. He is yours to lead through this as soon as you are ready.]]

verdigrisprowl 9:54 pm

"Then I'm ready."

He holds out a hand, opens a bridge, and the handcuffs drop into his hands. Which is pretty impressive until you realize that that means there's a high chance his physical body was on the other end of the bridge carefully dropping the handcuffs through, which makes it a little less impressive and a little more silly.

slenderwave 10:02 pm

And yet, Soundwave still offers polite applause at the trick. For one thing, aiming something through a bridge isn't easy. For another, it means Prowl actually put some little bit of effort into making that handcuff delivery look flashy, and he likes when Prowl shows off. A lot.

But he stops that soon enough, straightening up and nodding in the direction of the staircase so Ravage will move over there and give them some space. Things are about to take a very serious turn.

He looks at the fuzz covering them and reminds himself that he knows them. He knows how they were constructed, and with what materials. He knows who built them, and the specifications they were given. They are not booby-trapped with explosives. They are not the kind that slowly slice into metal and sever hands. They don't plug into wrist ports. They're just strong and soft and safe, because he wouldn't have given them to Prowl if they were anything else.

Unsure of how else to proceed, or if he should be waiting for instructions or a signal of some kind, Soundwave pulls in a deep draft of air, holds it, and stretches his arms out toward Prowl in offering.

verdigrisprowl 10:09 pm

Prowl scoots closer. "You want them cuffed in front?" That makes sense, it'd give him greater freedom of motion. But it didn't hurt to ask.

slenderwave 10:11 pm

He nods. [[It will be harder to keep them on from behind if they are loose.]] He pulls his arms back to show Prowl how awkward the length of his arms makes that particular cuffing position. There's not really a good way to do it unless they're tight as heck, and even then...

Surprise, surprise. Arms this long serve more than one function.

And back to the front they go.

verdigrisprowl 10:15 pm

Prowl studies Soundwave's arms, and then the handcuffs. "True." He holds out the handcuffs, inviting Soundwave to put his wrists in so Prowl could start fastening them. "I'll go slow; let me know when you want me to stop. If I go a step too far, say so, and I'll unlock it and stop a bit earlier."

slenderwave 10:29 pm

Soundwave studies Prowl studying him, wondering if showing Prowl one of the ways he makes it difficult to arrest him will ever come back to bite him in the aft, and decides it probably won't. Prowl's smart. He'll have thought of a different form of restraint the day he met Soundwave, probably.

Soundwave balls his fingers into fists and licks his lips behind his visor, trying to swallow his nervousness. It's safe. It's fine. He's even being allowed to do this at his own pace. This isn't dangerous. It's fine.

[[Understood.]] He finally uncurls his hands and slides them forward a few inches at a time. The fuzz makes him twitch and fidget as it slides over the sensitive black metal of his fingers, but only that long. He can't feel it against his deadened forearms. If he couldn't see the cuffs, he wouldn't know they were there. [[Go.]]

verdigrisprowl 10:31 pm

And he starts closing them slowly, one little click at a time. He's waiting for Soundwave to say when, but even if he doesn't, Prowl will still stop right before he thinks the next click would actually secure the cuffs around his wrists.

slenderwave 10:43 pm

Soundwave's never understood what makes a noise seem bigger or smaller in someone's mind than it is in reality, and he won't figure it out today either. Each tiny click sounds like a prison door slamming somewhere nearby, and every slammed door causes his armor to pull in - a little tighter, and a little tighter, and a little tighter, all to match the feeling of something crushing his chassis.

He can feel the cuffs now. The hard metal hidden inside the fuzz presses against his forearm with just enough insistence to make itself known, and soon, his fans kick in to cool a system that's temporarily forgotten how to ventilate with appropriate regularity.

Click. Click. Click. Prowl loves him. Click. Prowl wouldn't hurt him. Click. Prowl will keep him--

Keep him...

[[/There./]] There's something rushed, almost /frantic/ about that thought, as if one click more would tip them over the edge into an unseen abyss.

verdigrisprowl 10:46 pm

Prowl slows down as Soundwave's armor pulls in, and slows down again as his fans click on. He's almost about to pause and ask if Soundwave's alright when Soundwave speaks himself.

"Okay." He lets go, pulls his hands back and raises them—see? no more tightening, nobody trying to hold or control his body. "How do you feel?"

slenderwave 10:56 pm

He doesn't answer at first. How does he feel? He does feel; he knows that much. He senses the distance just put between them, and the slow but otherwise unhindered slide of the cuffs as he tilts his arms downward. He feels too warm for the room and too tightly wound compared to what he remembers himself being with Prowl most nights. He feels Ravage's optics boring into his back, and a thread of concern in Prowl's question.

And the ghosts of past shackles, fatter and heavier, omnipresent. He feels those, too, and how they limit where he's allowed to go or when. How they keep him connected to all the others while they sleep, so they will not try to escape (again). Everything is there, all together.

But what IS that?

[[He's - here,]] he manages, fingers curling again. [[With - with you. Both.]]

verdigrisprowl 10:59 pm

"Okay. Good. Stay here. Stay with us." Keep talking, Soundwave told Prowl. Prowl is his anchor in the present right now. "What do you want to do now? Do you want more time to adjust, or do you want me to—to do something?"

slenderwave 11:08 pm

[[Staying with you.]] Soundwave nods harder than usual, telling himself that as much as he's telling Prowl. It's fine. It's safe here. This is not a threat. Nobody and nothing claims him that he does not let try. His frame is still his own. He can - he can give it to someone, or let them handle it, and it will still be his.

Prowl worked for a Senator and a Prime. They turned blind optics to what happened. They watched what happened and liked it. They were why he was there.

No. No, the senators and the Primes were why. Prowl has not hurt him. Prowl would not have liked the Pits, or run that prison as it was. Prowl will let him keep himself. He didn't click them all the way. He didn't claim Soundwave's life. He's fine. This is safe. These are still his. [[Hands. Your hands.]]

verdigrisprowl 11:14 pm

Prowl immediately holds out his hands, but doesn't seize Soundwave's. "Take them. Where do you want them?"

He's already nervous about this. Soundwave is already tense, already terser. What body language Prowl can read off of him looks—he can't think of a word for it—hunted? Maybe this was a bad idea. Maybe this is too far. Maybe they should have started with tin foil bracelets and gradually moved up to cuffs, or started with only one cuff, or...

But Soundwave hasn't asked to stop yet. And—Prowl glances over toward the staircase—Ravage doesn't feel the need to step in yet. Okay. For now, Prowl will keep monitoring. If Soundwave doesn't improve after the initial shock, Prowl can call for a pause.

slenderwave 11:30 pm

Soundwave doesn't answer Prowl's question out loud. He simply obeys and snatches hold of them - sharply at first, like he thinks they're going to disappear, but only for a moment; after another, his grip softens and he pulls them to his face as gently as he can.

The cuffs slide back up his arm, and he shudders... but he vents. One, and another, and in time a third, each still too far apart, but growing quicker, regulating themselves.

He knows these hands. He knows them almost as well as if they are his own. They've traveled nearly his whole frame, and not once have they ever been used to hurt him. They're loving. They're careful. They're attentive. They're supportive.

And /they're/ the ones that put the cuffs on him. It was Prowl. It wasn't the mechs who tore his mind apart. It wasn't the enforcers or the warden. Not the Pit boss, or his lackeys, or those who are rightfully dead to him, or Unicron, or anyone else.

These hands are Prowl's, and deep in his spark, he knows they. Can. Be. Trusted. He leans into them, letting his wrists drop back into his lap, and stays like that for a minute or two, quiet.

[[...More.]]

verdigrisprowl 11:46 pm

Prowl lets Soundwave pull his hands to his face—no surprise it went there, although he's pleased that Soundwave still wants his hands there—and he holds him as long as Soundwave wants. Fingers tracing the edges of his helm, thumbs running along the seam around his visor. He traces the latches to remove the mask, but without explicit permission he's not going to presume to remove that protection. His fingers move on.

And all the time, he keeps talking for Soundwave—quietly, reassuringly, "I'm here" and "I won't do anything you don't ask for" and "tell me if you need me to do anything else" and the like—but eventually he says "I'm here" again and then "... I'm still here" and he has to give up and say "I'm running out of things to say, actually. I'll keep talking, but I'm... I'm really running out of situationally-appropriate statements. Should I... we should have discussed this. Should I describe the room, would that be helpful or distracting, or..."

Thankfully, his indecision is interrupted by Soundwave. "More—talking or more touching?"

slenderwave 12:06 am

Any other place would have been too invasive just then. Besides, there's... something oddly comforting about having them pressed there. Like the kind of kiss he's used to getting from mouths like his. It's as close as he can get from someone who doesn't have similar anatomy.

He doesn't resist when Prowl's fingertips cross the latches, but neither does he encourage his visor's removal; there are things he does not know that he is prepared to let Prowl see. He just lets them move on, listening to Prowl talk as much as he can.

Strangely, it's not the stock reassurances that do the best job of grounding him. Anyone could say them. It's when Prowl has to admit that he doesn't know what else to say that Soundwave responds with a soft and ragged huff. To him, that is uniquely Prowl. It is as recognizable as the touches to the seams around his visor, completely unlike anything anyone else who had ever bound him would say. It is impossible for him to be anywhere else but in the present, with the mech he asked to do this with him.

Tension begins to bleed out of his shoulders and dissipate into thin air. It will not all leave - he is as certain of that as can be - but it is enough for now. He pleads with Primus to make it distract from and hide the slow, thin drip of red liquid leaking out somewhere near his chin, and tries to get his claws into the nearest piece of Prowl's middle, struggling some with their unusual positioning.

[[Both.]] He licks away the drops he can reach, trying to stop them from getting loose like the others. [[Any talking. More touching.]]

[[Please. Keep him here.]]

verdigrisprowl 10/04/2018

A huff is a good sign. And cute. But mainly a good sign.

Prowl shifts his position, knees parted and hips tilted, trying to narrow the gap and better expose the part of of his frame that Soundwave is trying to reach. "Touching where? Still your face, or somewhere else, or...?"

His thumb brushes through something liquid, and comes back pale red. He looks at it, and then at Soundwave's chin. "... Soundwave. Are you sure you're okay?"

slenderwave 10/04/2018

[[Anywhere. It does not matter.]] Anything counts. Every touch glues more of him back in place, reminding him that all of his pieces belong here and now with the muffled metal holding him captive, and not just his thoughts or his cheeks. He doesn't care what it is, as long as it doesn't hurt unless he wants it to hurt (and right now, he doesn't). As long as it doesn't send him back, he will have it.

Soundwave pulls his chin away from Prowl's thumb, refusing to look down at it. He knows what's on it. He'd hoped Prowl wouldn't. [[It is nothing.]] An unwanted physical reaction to being so overwhelmed so quickly, then dunked facefirst into calmer waters. Desperation mixed with relief, hot and bitter on the tongue. Unimportant, passing with time. [[He is sure.]]

verdigrisprowl 10/04/2018

Prowl lets Soundwave pull away. He won't pursue it. He doesn't need to; he knows what it is. "... Now isn't the time for half truths." Prowl's not so brazen as to accuse Soundwave of lying. But it's sure as hell not nothing.

"May I bunt you?" And with Soundwave's permission, he leans in, pressing their crests hard together, and remains there. He's nervous now, too, and the touch is reassuring to him as much as he hopes it is to Soundwave. He'll stay there as long as Soundwave lets him.

"Tell me if I need to—to do anything differently." He runs his hands, slowly, carefully, down Soundwave's chest—avoiding his sparklight, that's too vulnerable for right now—along his sides, to his hips; and then lifts them, moving them from inside Soundwave's arms to outside, so he can drag his fingers along his thighs. Prowl doesn't touch Soundwave's arms, doesn't draw attention to their restraints.

And all the while, keeps talking. "I still don't know what to talk about, uh... next time I want an accepted topics list. Don't try to come up with one now—I know you, you're immediately going to try to give me a list—that's not what you need to be straining yourself on right now. I'll—blunder through it. I apologize. Not the best pillow talk you've ever heard."

He glances at Ravage, trying to gauge how he's doing. "... I don't think Ravage has twitched a servo since we started."

slenderwave 10/04/2018

His spark twists a little to one side. Yes, he'd told a half truth. But he's allowed to do that, providing it doesn't harm either of them in the process, and it won't. It's just something he didn't want and doesn't know how to voice yet. He doesn't want the scrap of stability he's scraped together to crumble out from beneath his feet. [[...Later. The other half.]] Faintly, barely nudging Prowl's consciousness in as close as a telepathic broadcast can come to a whisper: [[Apologies.]]

Soundwave's fingers find a seam and dig in, clutching tight while he pours his scattered focus into the pressure against his crest. This, too, is a form of kiss; he can do little better with his visor on, and in any case, it would be foolish of a telepath of his nature not to appreciate someone willing to touch their head to his.

He lets himself melt into the path Prowl's hands draw along his frame, optics closed, silently thankful that Prowl has left his arms out of it. He does not need to look and see where Prowl's hands are. There's no need to watch them slide down his forearm and feel himself slide back into panic at the thought of being captured tighter than before. They tell him exactly where they have been and where they are going, and it is easy to stay with them, floating a half-second behind.

[[Petrex,]] he murmurs, using his grip to pull himself a little closer. How comforting to know he can still do that with the handcuffs on. Is he allowed to do that, though? Part of him awaits being scolded for either disobedience and the delivery of a topic or using his hands when they're supposed to be out of service. Maybe he should use his feelers. Prowl left them alone. Prowl knows what they are and he left them unbound anyway. He's safe. Still so, so safe... [[Iacon. Tell him good things.]]

Ravage has not budged so much as a quarter inch. He could stalk and stay still and keep quiet like no one and nothing else, waiting for hours for prey to show itself. He'd taught Soundwave, after all. For the time being, he's simply sitting curled up with his tail wrapped around his paws, observing - but to satisfy Prowl's curiosity, he blinks once and offers up a tiny nod. Nothing has displeased him. Prowl would know if it had.

verdigrisprowl 10/04/2018

"... Later," Prowl agrees. "During aftercare. Or after, if you're not ready then."

Prowl moves when Soundwave tugs him—no complaints, no scolding. "Petrex, huh." He allows himself only a moment of pause before he forces himself to start speaking again. "I'd like to tell you about Petrex. But the things I took solace in probably aren't the things that would comfort you." The signs on every other street corner reassuring Prowl that despite all the evidence to the contrary, he, too, served a useful function. The rare festivals where Seven-of-Twelve made an appearance, and the fluttering of his cape spat up such uncountable numbers that it hurt to look at him, like trying to look into the mind of a god. What would Soundwave appreciate? "I calculated my exact walk to work. Seventeen minutes and thirty-two seconds. My morning routine took five minutes and two seconds." He sends a datapacket with a map, his exact routine, his exact route, the exact pauses to account for traffic lights, with all people and signs removed from the streets. "It was only fifty-five percent reliable. A crowd makes you walk two feet to the side, you bump into someone, suddenly you're three seconds behind and missing your fourth crosswalk. I was always frustrated with everyone else for not keeping to a schedule I could predict. They were all older than me; surely they knew where they were going and how long it took by then."

When Prowl's hands reach Soundwave's knees, they reverse direction and move back up his body, along roughly the same route. "There was a narrow courtyard behind my apartment, with an awning that hung out over the back door. For a few seconds every evening, the setting sun would cast a shadow from the awning and a shadow from the top of the building behind my apartment that formed a razor-thin line, and then fused into a single shadow. I liked to go outside every evening to watch the shadows meet. There were a few months every year where the sun set too early for me to get home in time to see it. And—" No. Not that part. Another time.

He blinks back at Ravage—he can't nod without disturbing Soundwave's head. Thanks. He appreciates the feedback.

slenderwave 10/04/2018

Soundwave's desire to keep slipping into the protective world of Prowl's hands and Prowl's voice wars against his hunger for new information. Prowl's calm monotone urges him to let go and tumble into the comfort of his own mind, free from obligation and stress and paranoia, but the armor plate cutting into his fingers demands he stay to consume everything he is being given - to sink himself, fangs and claws and body, into something (and someone) a little more tangible than strings of numbers. His visor ripples with rolling lines of silent static, unable to settle on a representation of mood, and the glowing indigo lines crisscrossing his frame pulse with such slowness the spark of a dying beast could outpace them.

Both feelers slip loose almost without his knowledge, slipping between Prowl's arms and his own to mimic the route Prowl's hands are taking. The claws draw back and fold tight, leaving only the soft, smooth tendrils and their delicate leads to work up Prowl's thighs. They curl and twist through slim spaces to get at Prowl's hips when Prowl switches back to his own, tying the pair of them into a loose knot, and keep moving, matching his exploration millimeter for millimeter.

Soundwave pulls Prowl closer still, and for one long, wonderful moment, forgets that there is anything restraining him, however lightly, seeing nothing but the fused shadow.

verdigrisprowl 10/04/2018

Oh! Soundwave's reciprocating. That's a good sign. Prowl learned that once. People are in a good mood if they reciprocate your actions.

... Okay technically what Prowl learned is that if people are mirroring your body language it means they like you. And Prowl already knows Soundwave likes him. But he's willing to interpret this as a good sign regardless. It means he's here enough to pay attention to what Prowl's doing and copy it.

... Unless the fact that he's copying Prowl means he's doing that—that being-overwhelmed-by-somebody else's mind thing? Prowl falters for a moment, hands and voice going still.

He doesn't seem distressed though. And he's—there, he just tugged Prowl closer, that's an autonomous motion. And Ravage doesn't seem bothered by anything going on. Soundwave must be alright. Right?

"... Status check. How are you doing?"

slenderwave 10/04/2018

Status check. The ingrained importance of those two words slice through the sun, the building, and the awning, dashing them back into heaps of sand. Soundwave sits up, pulling away from the long bunt and letting go of Prowl, mildly confused by the unexpected rush back to the outside of his frame. [[What? Fine. He's--]] The center of the forgotten cuffs snags on a knee as he pulls his arms back onto his lap, jerking his wrists. It shatters his calm, reminding him that they exist, and his visor instantly flares an alarmed red.

Ravage is up on his feet and bolting over before Soundwave can finish drawing in a startled vent. Soundwave's feelers whip free of Prowl's sides, all claws again, yanking at the cuffs to pull them off faster than he could be rid of them by shaking his arms alone.

They clatter to the floor. Soundwave flinches, as if expecting an attack he doesn't have time to dodge.

Ravage gives them a sharp bat, sending them skidding away from the berth, and leaps into Soundwave's lap with a low growl. The feelers coil around him and clip tight. Soundwave himself follows suit a second later, slumping forward, arms curled around the only mech who can beat Prowl in terms of making him feel truly protected.

He's not fine now. Give him a few minutes and maybe the answer will change.

verdigrisprowl 10/04/2018

Prowl is guessing that red is bad.

He reaches for the cuffs to help pull them off, but when Soundwave grabs at them with his feelers, Prowl jerks his hands back instead, not wanting to get in Soundwave's way and slow down his removal of the cuffs. The instant they slip over Soundwave's fingertips and Prowl's sure his assistance won't be needed, he bolts back from Soundwave, giving him and Ravage space.

And, in the process, forgets his exact position, and falls ass first off the berth. "Ow." He's fine. He and his one leg left on the berth are fine. He's just gonna pull that leg down to the ground with him.

This is probably an adequate distance.

slenderwave 10/04/2018

The clank of Prowl hitting the floor causes Soundwave to flinch again, clutching Ravage tighter. [[Stop.]] He doesn't know how he hurt Prowl - he can't remember doing anything to anyone else, but he must have; he was panicking, and Prowl just said - but he didn't mean to do it, whatever it was. He really didn't. He just wanted out of the handcuffs. There were - they were everywhere again. His neck, his chest, his wrists, his ankles...

Ravage squirms and wriggles until he gets his muzzle out of Soundwave's clutches, sniffing the air for hard light. He squirms a little more, pushing his whole head up and over one of Soundwave's elbows, and squints at the edge of the berth. There's a familiar set of blue optics (and an even more familiar chevron) peeking back at them.

=You. Injured?= he grunts, trying to keep the calm he's letting Soundwave feed on separate from the concern. Soundwave doesn't need more of the second one right now.

verdigrisprowl 10/04/2018

Should he say sorry? Maybe not. It might distract Soundwave from distracting himself. He'll keep quiet now and apologize later. If he should say something, Ravage will let him know.

He holds up an OK sign. No injuries. Worry about Soundwave. Prowl's just going to sit on the floor and watch as nonthreateningly as he can.

slenderwave 10/04/2018

Ravage gives the OK sign a disbelieving squint before remembering that Prowl is a holoavatar and wriggling back into Soundwave's arms. Like carrier, like deployer, he supposes. In his defense, he has other things on his mind right now. Tall, thin, blue things that need him to focus on the unheard conversation they're having.

There are no chains or shackles. They were not everywhere. It was only one pair, on Soundwave's wrists, and they were left loose so they could be taken off - and they are off, now. They're far away and have not been put on again. Prowl did as he said and kept his promise. At no time was Soundwave in any real danger. Ravage was there, and Prowl was there, and neither would harm him. Soundwave was content, wasn't he? He'd been at no small amount of peace letting someone else keep him safe for a while. The interruption was an accident. Prowl was only checking on him, like a responsible mech. The cuffs had gotten caught. An accident. Nothing worse than that. No one was hurt. Not Ravage, not Soundwave, and not Prowl. And Prowl is still here. He hasn't run away. He's on the floor, waiting. He's still safe to be near. He still protects them. There is nothing to be upset about. It's a process, not a failure. Surely Prowl will let Soundwave try again some time, if that is still what he wants?

...Yes. Yes, it's still what he wants. He thinks. It was so - he felt - not tonight, of course. Another time. Right now, he just needs to think. Ravage is as truthful with him as he is with Prowl. Nothing terrible has actually happened. It was just the past stretching out of its confines and scraping its cold, rusting fingers down his back, and the past is nothing but mist and memory. If he can try again some day - if Prowl doesn't mind - then perhaps he'll learn to step out of its reach. It'd be nice to float uninterrupted for as long as their time together allows. He'd do almost anything to feel like that again. Or better. There are probably ways to make it better.

Where is Prowl, anyway? Which part of the floor?

Soundwave sits up a little, arms loosening, and looks around. It's hard to do when he can't twist around much. Lapful of deployer, and all that lowercase jazz.[[...Come back. Please.]]

verdigrisprowl 10/05/2018

What's the squint for? He IS okay. Holomatter or not, he's not going to be injured by falling off a berth. Even ass first.

He waits quietly, watching—should he be watching? Is watching distracting? Can Soundwave feel the optics on him? Would he rather not?—still watching, because he has no evidence that he shouldn't, and he doesn't want to leave.

Okay. "Status check" clearly isn't a good phrase. Maybe it sounded too commanding? Or maybe the phrase was fine but the brief moment he'd snagged the cuffs was the problem. Or maybe a status check in general, regardless of the wording, had been what set Soundwave off. Prowl will have to ask him about it once he's—back in himself. Next time they do this—IF there's a next time, if Soundwave wants to try again—they're first going to have to discuss how to safely do status checks.

... And what topics Prowl should talk about.

By the time Soundwave sits up, Prowl's on the part of the floor near a corner of the berth—the corner closest to where he fell off—with his arms crossed, elbows very lightly resting on the edge. He lowers his arms and straightens up when Soundwave does.

Soundwave wants him back already? Prowl had half expected (well—59% expected, close enough) that Soundwave wouldn't want to get anywhere near him for the rest of the night, until he'd settled down more. He climbed back onto the berth and paused kneeling there, still near the corner. "How close do you want me?"

slenderwave 10/20/2018

Yes, he wants Prowl back already - specifically to help remind himself that he wasn't tossed into cuffs by some random mech and left alone. Someone safe placed him in them, and did so with care and caution, on his request. If they're near, it's easier to remember. If they're near, he knows he won't go be put back unless he asks it. He's protected and loved.

More than anything else, that's what he needs to feel right now. Not endangered - and not unwanted for having flipped out, either.

[[Here. Nearby. Touching shoulders. ... Please?]] He reaches a feeler out, offering assistance in scooting close. Maybe hesitant affection. [[He's - he'll be all right. A mistake. Better next time. A moment more, tonight.]]

He pulls the visor off at last, blinking to adjust to the light, and sucks in a deep vent, helping himself cool his face and neck.

verdigrisprowl 10/20/2018

Prowl of Petrex, living calculator, unparalleled genius in the tracking and predicting of trajectories, the most brilliant strategist the Autobot Army has ever seen, asks, "Me touching your shoulders or you touching my shoulders?"

slenderwave 10/20/2018

Soundwave peers around his arm and over Ravage as best he can, giving Prowl a look that wants to be bewildered but can't muster up the energy to cross the finish line. [[...Touching shoulders together. Leaning?]]

verdigrisprowl 10/20/2018

"Oh! Yes. Right. Of course. That makes much more sense than— Right."

Prowl promptly slides next to Soundwave, turning his body as he moved so that he could press his shoulder against Soundwave's. The way they've leaned together—surely, on at least a hundred other nights before. (In retrospect, it really WAS obvious what Soundwave had been asking for, wasn't it.) He keeps his hands in his own lap, not wanting to risk touching his wrist to Soundwave's in case it reminded him of the cuffs. "Anything else?" He's content if the answer is no. But he doesn't want to leave Soundwave without anything that he thinks might help.

slenderwave 10/26/2018

Ravage hops off Soundwave's lap as Prowl draws close, content to let someone else be the main emotional support now. He bumps his head against Soundwave's side before curling up again on the end of the berth, watching the pair of them.

Soundwave settles against Prowl with the quietest of relieved vents, the tension in his frame bleeding out an inch of plating at a time. It starts with his optics, which drift closed - he can do that, now, and not worry about what will happen when he does - and travels downward, loosening this and lowering that.

Does he want anything else? He'd gone into the evening hoping to have a little fun, so to speak. It's irritating, knowing that his own panic might cut short the night, but he's certainly not in the mood to go for anything on the rougher or wilder sides anymore. Not until at least the next evening. Still, this? The scare recovery and the silence and the too-light, too-stiff touches? They're not how he wants this meeting to end. It'd been a good night, damn it. He wants that back.

He doesn't move yet. (Another couple of minutes, please.) Instead, he focuses on building the soothing mental image he means to use for a suggestion, slowly and carefully weaving it out of gentle threads. Nothing ferocious and hungry here. No frantic, dangerously overheated action. Just... them, together. It'd be somewhat unusual for them, going about things that way, but there's nothing wrong with it. It has its places and times. It's good to just - to focus on the stripped-down basics, now and then. Interface without worrying about all the bells and whistles. Pour on loving attention and wade through pools of data with no particular goals in mind.

Soundwave waits to send it until the thought of Prowl's hands laced with his own finishes returning to being a source of comfort, then peers around his arm again, silently waiting for an answer he hopes will be a 'yes'.

verdigrisprowl 10/26/2018

More often than not, after an incident like that, Prowl would strongly advise against doing anything else that even might be strenuous, interfacing included, instead just focusing on aftercare and comfort.

... But Soundwave paints such an appealing, soothing mental image. It sounds so nice. Would the reality match it, though?

As Prowl ruminates on the question, he slides his hand out of his lap, brushing it against the back of Soundwave's before gently lacing their fingers together.

"... You should be in control of it," Prowl says. "To be safe. You should be on top and calling the shots."

slenderwave 10/26/2018

Who's to say that Soundwave wouldn't consider that his aftercare and comfort? Prowl should know by now that Soundwave likes to dive into physical contact from trusted sources when he can get it, and nothing in this world is better than acquiring (or trading) data. It just so happens that there's a single convenient activity that involves both.

Soundwave looks down at his hand when Prowl brushes it, focusing on the point of touch. It's a sharp sensation, but not a painful one, like viewing something that exists in hard contrast with its surroundings - the splashes of red against Prowl's black and white, for example. It's highlighted and intense in its delicacy - awesome, in the older sense of the word - and he's nearly afraid to change and spoil the feeling by touching back.

He curls his fingertips into the back of Prowl's hand anyway, then covers them with his other hand. ... Good. This is his. It's been his, and it will keep being his. Nothing about what happened changed that. And he's thankful to know it.

[[He accepts.]] Soundwave brings Prowl's knuckles up to his lips and kisses them, humming a note or two of growing relaxation into their edges. [[...What to keep in mind? For you.]] Prowl can be sensitive to and dislike certain kinds of touch. He'd rather not send Prowl scuttling away in the middle of all this, as happened to himself earlier.

verdigrisprowl 10/28/2018

He leaned in, slightly, as Soundwave kissed his knuckles. He wanted to replace his hand with his mouth.

"You already know what I like." Quite a bit of it, anyway. Certainly, not everything has been covered before, but. "We're not going to be experimenting with anything new tonight."

slenderwave 11/10/2018

Soundwave nods a bland sort of confirmation; he does know rather a lot about Prowl and what's good for the both of them, yes. It never hurts to have asked, however, especially after an incident like that.

[[All right.]]

And with that out of the way, Soundwave reaches to pull Prowl onto his lap, all the better for planting slow, measured kisses up that arm and toward Prowl's neck.

The rest will happen in time. For now, he has quiet exploring to do and all night to do it.

#slenderwave #chat

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toosicktoocare · 7 years ago

Text

For the sweet anon of course, but also for @fluffyllamas22 who is an incredible human who needs to be showered with love!

It’s quiet in the diner, with only a few customers chatting with a waitress at the bar. Loki bypasses the looks he receives and stumbles toward a corner booth while pressing a gloved fist to his mouth to cough. He’s been feeling... off, for better lack of words. He’s familiar with human illnesses-- he knows how vulnerable the human body is, yet he’s not one to get sick, not since he was a young boy. So, he’s not sure why he’s exhibiting symptoms that match being ill: cough, fever, chills, fatigue-- the whole package.

It’s unpleasant-- waking feeling as if he hasn’t slept a wink, feeling chilled through despite multiple layers, struggling to breathe against a tight chest and barking coughs-- but he’s unsure of the proper recovery measures; he’s not really sure of what he’s dealing with, in all honesty. He just knows he feels terrible, so much that he truly felt challenged to get out of bed and get dressed to meet for lunch with Thor.

He’s been given the chance to live alone in a small apartment without constant supervision, and while the apartment is less than ideal, with no proper heating and horrible neighbors, it’s way better than being locked in a room in the Tower. He takes the small things when he can, if he’s to be stuck here indefinitely.

“Sir?”

Loki snaps a sharp glance toward the waitress standing at his booth, and she recoils slightly at his narrow gaze.

“What?” He spits out, voice rough, weak-- an utter annoyance.

“I asked if you wanted to start with a drink?”

Before Loki can ask for a warm tea, the bell atop the entrance jingles, bringing with it a booming presence that has Loki’s shoulders sagging along a huff of a sigh.

“Two coffees!” Thor shouts as he runs a hand through his damp hair to free clinging rain drops. He strides to the booth and offers the waitress a nod before sliding into the seat across Loki, smile flicking toward a frown as his eyes meet Loki’s sunken ones.

“Brother, you don’t look well.”

“I’m insulted,” Loki mutters flatly, voice catching against his throat until he’s coughing into the crook of his arm, over and over until tear spring against burning eyes.

“You sound terrible!”

Loki whips a dangerous gaze toward the waitress, who, for whatever reason, is still hovering, much to Loki’s complete annoyance.

“Sounds like you’ve got that flu going around, darling.”

The waitress is still talking, and Thor’s joined in, but Loki’s mind blocks out all sounds as he mentally flips through his knowledge of influenza. His symptoms match, but remedies are varying-- some sources he remembers reading state to go to a doctor while others say store-bought medicine and rest should do the trick-- it all depends on how poorly he’s feeling, and well, he’s really not feeling well at all.

“Loki!”

Loki jerks back when his vision returns to the present to see Thor crouched before him with a hand raised toward his face. He opens his mouth to speak, but he ends up smacking his lips closed when Thor’s hand presses to his forehead.

“Brother, you are burning up!”

Loki slaps Thor’s hand away with a huff that ends in a series of coughs that burn along trembling lungs.

“You need a doctor!”

“I need rest,” Loki argues back around coughs as he pushes on Thor’s shoulder to get him to move. “Yet, you’ve got me coming out-- what are you doing?”

Thor’s strong fingers wrap around Loki’s wrist, and Loki can’t get free as he’s pulled to his feet, no match against Thor’s strength.

“We are going to a doctor. Banner’s out of country right now, but there’s a clinic a few blocks away.”

“Thor, that’s not--” Loki tries, words falling short when Thor lets him go long enough to drape his own jacket over Loki’s trembling shoulders.

“Thor--”

“Let’s go,” Thor says, pressing a large hand to Loki’s back and guiding him out of the diner. “We will get you feeling well again soon.”

Loki wants to argue, but the rain and icy wind whipping against him the second he steps outside has him clamping his mouth shut and clenching his teeth to keep them from chattering as Thor ushers him down the sidewalk.

*****

“This is a fast pace clinic,” Loki mutters as he takes a seat on a small, plastic chair, arms crossed against a shiver as a cold rain drop slips down the back of his neck.

“Yes,” Thor says, taking a seat beside Loki after checking him in. “It is quick.”

“But is it efficient?” Loki mutters under his breath, waving a weak hand when Thor shoots him a questioning gaze.

He zones out, watching as all of the stressed parents take sick children back when they are called, and at some point, his vision fades to black, only to come back in slow colors by someone gently calling out his name.

“Loki?”

He lifts his head, not having the energy to feel too embarrassed about using Thor’s shoulder as a pillow because he feels impossibly terrible. His entire body feels heavy, as if he’s chained to the floor by massive weights, and when he’s pulled to his feet, the room spins, and he coughs and coughs until he’s bent over, only remaining standing by a strong arm around his back.

“Easy, brother,” Thor mutters as the doctor steps up with a frown.

“Well, he’s certainly sick.”

Loki could laugh if he didn’t feel as if he were going to pass out, but his coughing finally tampers off, so he takes that as a small plus as he’s ushered into a back exam room.

Everything moves in slow waves-- his temperature is taken, questions are asked that Thor answers for him, an icy stethoscope is pressed to his suddenly bare back. He can’t focus; he can only just barely catch onto worried voices, and it’s not until he’s being pulled back into the rain with Thor’s arm wrapped tightly around his shoulders that he utters out a whisper.

“I can’t make it back.. I can’t-- Walk?” His own words prove confusing against his hazy mind, but he doesn’t have long to ponder on this for his knees are giving out just as his mind goes frighteningly black.

*****

It’s a cool cloth that pulls him back from a gripping, fitful level of unconsciousness. His eyes are heavy as he cracks them open to see Thor leaning over him with a pure look of worry, one that settles uncomfortably in Loki’s chest.

“I wasn’t sure if you would ever wake again, brother.”

Loki’s eyes flick behind Thor to the unfamiliar surroundings that take a concerning amount of time to clear in his head.

“Why?” He starts, voice merely a whispered croak. “The tower?”

“I spoke with Banner. We both agreed you would be more comfortable here until you recover. It’s warmer, safer.”

“Banner?” Loki mutters, a breath of disbelief coating the single word.

“Yes. Believe it or not, he was concerned to hear that you are ill. He told me to keep a close eye on you since we don’t know how a human illness does against our immune systems.”

Loki only turns his face away to cough at this.

“He also told me that I should keep enough distance to not catch this, but I told him that would be impossible.”

Loki’s body goes tense, and he turns a slow gaze to arch a single brow in silent question.

“You are far too ill to leave alone,” Thor starts, lips curling up into a soft smile. “Plus you’ve used me as a pillow, so I’ve been more than exposed.”

“Are you waiting for an apology?” Loki questions, voice sharp despite the pain against his throat.

“No,” Thor answers, taking on a serious tone. “I just want you to get better. You terrified me when you fainted outside of the clinic.”

Loki considers apologizing himself-- he can’t remember much during the trip to the clinic, but Thor’s expression speaks volumes. He opens his mouth to talk, but Thor stops him with a raised hand.

“It’s fine, Loki. There’s no need to say sorry. It’s nothing you can help.”

Nodding, Loki can feel his eyes drooping as fatigue creeps back in. His eyes flutter closed, and he drifts off to a large hand squeezing his shoulder and a soft voice muttering “sleep well, brother.”

#marvel #sickfic #prompt #thor #loki #sick!loki #brodinsons #i can't for the life of me remember if thor calls banner banner or bruce #gotta watch some movies again lol #my writing #my marvel writing #i liked writing this #i like writing that domestic life lmao

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old-livin-la-vida-langst · 7 years ago

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Stars in Your Eyes, Death at Your Throat [part 1]

[Read on ao3]

NOTE: I’ve moved to @livin-la-vida-langst , make sure you follow that blog and not this old one! :)

[first] [next]

To be honest, Lance felt Keith pulling away long before he announced that he would be joining the Blade of Marmora - running off to Marmoran missions instead of training with the team, late night reports to Kolivan, and just being holed up in his room instead of spending the time with them. He felt it coming, but that didn’t stop it from hurting any less. The team, while sad that Keith was becoming a full time Marmoran, were quick to adjust their roles - especially since they had a Black Paladin on standby. It made no sense and the thought of it left such an uncomfortable taste in Lance’s mouth; Keith was their leader and left, and everyone was moving on like it was no big deal.

What was worrying, was that if they could do that to him, it was more than easy to imagine them doing that to Lance.

He tries to be strong after Keith leaves, he really does, but it's just so lonely. Without the common factor of school or classes, Hunk naturally gravitates more often than not to Pidge instead of Lance and works on various projects. Allura and Shiro work on building strategies for the coalition. Neither group particularly needs or wants Lance's input; Coran is amicable enough, but there is only so much Lance can clean.

Shiro calls a training simulation for the team. He walks through different battle behaviors he wants each of the paladins to practice - Hunk needs to focus on his tenacity, Pidge on her drones input commands, Allura on her long distance, and Lance on his melee. Coran inputs the training sentries objective for each paladin above the training room with Shiro watching attentively. Everyone breaks off into the separate sections and gets to work.

Lance takes a cuff to the chin and lets out a startled shout. Shiro turned on the speech communication from the observation deck and says, “Lance, when facing taller opponents, make sure you stay out of their Danger Zone. You have to either come in behind his throw, or under it in order to cross the firing zone.” Lance wipes the spit off his chin and nods, his eyes never leaving the sentry.

Most of the time is spent with Shiro throwing the occasional piece of advice towards Pidge and Allura, he offers Hunk soft suggestions for how to strengthen his mental fortitude when handling an enemy. The robot facing Lance grabs his forearm and swings the paladin off his feet and onto the ground. He begins to writhe in pain as the robot applies pressure to his caught arm.

“Lance!” Pidge squawks and drops her control, the three drones she was commanding scatter off in different directions. One hits Hunk square in the face, making him freak out and collide into his practice sentry. Another drone slams into Allura’s back and she shouts out in surprise, falling to the ground in a very undignified manner. The third drone flys straight for the doors. They slide open and Shiro catches it before it has a chance to crash into anything. He walks in short strides with the drone in his human hand before grabbing the sentry on Lance and yanking it up with his Galra hand.

Lance withers under Shiro’s gaze. “End Simulation.” He announces without breaking eye contact. Hunk and Pidge run up to Lance, “Are you okay?” They both frett, scanning his body for any broken bones. He nods, shame closing his throat.

Allura gets back on her feet and harshly pats dust off herself. She walks up to Lance and looks down at him with a tired, frustrated expression. “Lance,” she began, “This kind of performance is unacceptable. It is one thing to be incompetent in a singular setting, but to have your incompetence affect your teammates could very well cost our lives. Voltron can’t afford that. The universe can’t afford that.” His mouth is dry, and his stomach won’t stop twisting; before he can fumble out an apology, Shiro sighs and places a disarming hand on Allura’s shoulders.

“The Princess is right, Lance. If you’re not helping around the Castle, training should be your top priority.” Shiro looks at him, more disappointed than frustrated, and God does that sting harder.

The red paladin tries to smile, and he hates how he can feel the burn of approaching tears. “Y-yeah, I… I know, I’m sorry, I’ll work harder.” He gets up without the help offered by Hunk’s hand and rushes off to his room with a mantra of ‘Don’t let them see you cry’ ringing in his head.

Lance finds safe haven in his room, clutching on to the communication tablet that was assigned to him at the beginning of their journey. He shuffles to the wall of his bed and idly taps his fingers over the frame while he ponders his next step.

With a deep breath, he unlocks the tablet, dials the access code for the Blade of Marmoa’s line and waits.

Each ring sends more and more chills down his spine, and anxiety begins to eat at his shaking hands.

Just as he’s about to end the call request, the line connects, and Lance feels a bubble of relief burst in his chest. “Hey Mulle-”

“Red Paladin.” The happiness inside him is snuffed out like a match in the rain. The leader of the Blade had answered instead, his large frame and stern face covering the screen. “Is there a situation at the Castle of Lions?” Kolivan shifts attention to something else off-screen, and stretches his hand out to enter some commands into his network, “I’ll send over a team of Marmoan’s within a quarter varga.”

“Wait! No, no, no, Kolivan, it’s chill here, don’t send a squad!” Lance screeches out. His hands are flapping around, trying to emphasize there was no alarm. Kolivan’s pulls his lips to one side of his face, clearly confused.

“Chill? If there is no alarm, why have you reached out? The Princess and Champion are responsible for relaying communications.” He says.

Lance rubs his left shoulder, suddenly feeling a lot more self-conscious. “I know. I, um. I wanted to see if Keith was around? I know he’s probably super busy, but I was just wondering what he was up to... if he had some time to talk, or whatever.”

Kolivan peers into the screen and thins his lips. He studies Lance for a moment before lightly shaking his head. “This access line is reserved for serious matters, and Keith is performing his training vigorously. I hope you understand this enough not to break proper Communication Protocol again unless it is a dire emergency.” The Galran ends their line before Lance can respond, leaving him to stare at a darkened reflection of his pitiful face.

His room suddenly feels so small and suffocating.

Lance curls into a ball, covers himself with his blanket and cries.

The next night, around the same time, Lance is laying down on his side. He skips dinner because the team tends to talk about what they've worked on for the day and Lance can't bear the air of uselessness when silence lingers around the table when everyone is finished speaking and Lance finds he has nothing new to say because he hasn't really done anything.

He rolls on his stomach to bury his face in his pillow and hears something buzzing. The tablet at the foot of his begins to vibrate and Lance leaps to answer it.

Keith - beautiful, amazing, Keith is on the screen glancing at something off-screen. “Hey, Kolivan mentioned you tried to reach out yesterday.” The half-Galran rolls his eyes playfully, “Are you that bored over there that you're trying to find ways to pest-” His eyes dart around the screen, looking at different parts of Lance’s face, “What the hell, Lance? Are you okay?” He gulps as he sees tears streaming down his friend’s face.

He's never seen him look so sad before.

Lance is hiccuping and furiously trying to wipe the tears away. “It's r-re-really good to hear your voice mullet!” Lance's voice cracks multiple time, but he can't find himself to be embarrassed right now.

Keith is waving his hands around frantically, as if there's some way his hands could go through the screen. “Lance, what's going on? Is everyone okay, what happened?” He asks.

His former right-hand man shifts, his gaze lowers. “Everyone’s good. Nothing’s wrong.” Lance’s voice is low, cautious, and it pisses Keith off.

“Bullshit, you’re crying Lance, stop lying and tell me what’s going on!”

Lance chokes on air and goes into a coughing fit. Keith is looking so intensely, that his purple eyes almost look like their glowing. “I, um… it’s been pretty rough without you here.”

There's a moment of pause as the Blade-initate digests the sentence.

“Uh, what?” Keith shifts his positioning and cocks his head to the side.

Lance meets Keith’s confused stare and continues, “I mean! Our system, you leading Voltron, and me being your right-hand man, it was good! I felt,” He sighs, “I felt useful. Now? I feel like I’m just a body to operate Red.”

Keith chews on his bottom lip.

“I don’t know what you’re going through, or why the team can’t help get you out of thinking like that, but I get how you feel.” Keith says. He scratches the back of his head nervously when Lance’s eyebrows furrow in concern, “The Blade is rough. They eat and work with each other, and have such strong conviction about what they believe; but it's so intense, they’ll fling themselves into the fire and hope their teammates will use their body to get to their goal without a second thought. You can’t really make friends here, because literally everyone is dispensable, and it’s hard.”

“You’re not dispensable.”

Keith’s eye widen, and his jaw goes slack. Lance is staring him down with red-rimmed eyes. “You’re not dispensable, you know that right?” Lance is gripping his tablet so hard, he swears it's going to crack. “We- we all care about you so much. If there’s ever a moment where you think you are, or you think that you need to be to complete a mission, I want you to remember me telling you this. Promise me, you’ll remember me saying this.”

Keith doesn’t really know what to say, or what to do. No one’s ever really told him that, but hearing it out loud… kinda makes sense. He smiles, “Thanks, Lance, I-” A puff of air leaves his quirked up lips. “I’ll try extra hard not to die if you remember to take your own advice.”

Lance huffs, and closes his eyes as he whips his head to the side. “Whatever. You better,” He says it sternly, but Keith sees his grin. “If I find out you died, I’ll kill you.”

The recent Malmora initiate’s smile is spread out so far, his cheeks are hurting, but he can’t quite stop it. “Oh really? Duly noted.”

Their eyes meet again, and they soon find themselves in a giggling fit.

“Oh!” Lance straightens up, “Did you hear what Pidge did on the scouting mission in Selticon?” Keith shakes his head. “Oh man, so wild, let me tell you. So, Pidge and I are rustling through a Galra-occupied village...”

The two end up talking through the night, sharing stories and making each other laugh. By the time they both realize its time to go, they also realize they don’t want this to end. They promise each other that they’ll schedule some time to this at least once or twice a movement. They end up sneak in video transmissions almost every other night to hear each other's voices and see each other's faces. Neither say it out loud, but it's such a cathartic way to vent their emotions, that they both can't help but look forward to the next call.

It’s really hard to deal with the chaotic mess of an intergalactic war. The fact that death is quite possibly around any corner they take is a little stressful to say the least, but the calls definitely make it easier to bear.

And... if, after every call, they end their night smiling and thinking of the other… well, there can't be much harm in that.

#klangst #langst #klance #voltron fic #im just gonna reupload this as a post to build up the blog shhh #keith #lance

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machimachilegends · 7 years ago

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Suki (Lightning x Yin Synthesis) vs Mirai (3rd Reservoir)

ROUND ONE // SPEED + REFLEXES

When it comes to raw speed, Suki practically goes unmatched when pit against foes lacking blood ties or blatant power. On some occasions managing to leave few serious battles without--so much as the enemy getting a single clean shot in. Given her Release Speed and natural affinity for lightning, she cancels attacks like no tomorrow, and attacks with her entire body leaving little room to breathe.

Though the situation is similar for Mirai, the cause barely has anything to do with speed. Rather Mirai’s Reaction Time makes up what she lacks in agility against speedsters akin to the other, which plays its part with Cast Time, where a single snap of the finger is needed to utilize most spells. With her short Cast Time she’s allowed to fight like normal, keeping her ability to capitalize on hits repeatedly.

ROUND TWO // BODY + STRENGTH

When it comes to Suki’s body she falls under the category of a normal human by her universe’s standards, granted, through extensive training and her birthright as an upper-branch Xchiyu, she’s well-versed in traditional combat--her body having a natural kink for helping adapt to the enemy’s attack chain either to evade or counter. This adeptness gives Suki so much insight on the battle at hand that her body tends to store the memory so she may call on certain experiences to further herself on a whim, though this ability may be attributed to her merits under the Transformation Type.

Regarding Suki’s innate strength, she can flip toss and tear through enemies more than one-hundred times her size via Physical Attacks and bust through metals even denser than neutron stars without much trouble. She’s endured plenty of Special Attacks capable of destroying everything from stars to the universe itself, even contesting such forces with her fists in her civilian form. And it’s not like she gives out easy, acting as a testament to her great speed, she possesses a lot of stamina too. It’s rare to ever see her stay winded for long, which tends to make some mistake her as alien at times.

Similarly enough, Mirai, too has withstood the tests of time tanking a Time-bomb the size of a small country capable of rewriting the universe, at least, had she not dulled its effects prior to detonating. Nonetheless the explosion ended up bringing Suki and Mirai together, and their universes in a critical state, only giving a hint at how durable she is even nowadays, but that’s not where the madness ends as she’s able to keep fighting even when she’s overextended her time tapping into the 1st and 2nd Reservoir of magic.

Reminds me--about Mirai’s body. As a magi, Mirai too is classified as a human by her universe’s standards. Instead of focusing on chi and its physical applications, her universe focused on its sister power magic, leading to a different evolution among mortals where they can naturally store magic in the body. Add in her incredible self-awareness and adjustment to greater magical forces like the fragmented Dawn Stone and Claire Text and she basically has an abundance of magic to spare by default with even greater reserves in the back to continuously cast spell after spell. Factor that even when she’s at zero units her physical strength goes unhindered.

ROUND THREE // EXPERIENCE + TACTICS

Suki has only ever trained under one mentor outside of school and family, whom goes by the name Fuu, a goddess. While there meeting wasn’t random, Suki definitely had to go through a lot before even getting to chance to learn under Fuu--ignoring the fact she only got to cause of Fuu’s attraction to her fusion with Damian and her general interest in their Yin Yang accessibility and imbalance, Suki still had to kill Fuu’s father (The Strongest Man) with assistance. At that point in time Suki had done battle with the supernatural, espers, demons, lesser gods, angels, and androids over the span of a good four years, each one capable of throwing the entire universe for a loop had they succeeded their devious acts. Yet, despite this, Saikuru (Fuu’s father) managed to dwarf Suki and allies capable of similar feats without even trying, yet it was Suki and Damian’s Yin Yang Fissue that put him down face of everything.

Obviously, once Suki was ready for the next step in her training, Fuu gave Suki the task to acquire and hone the Hyper Hare ability into her arsenal to make her greatest strengths overshadow her habitual weaknesses as a warrior, that being her speed and Energy Control.

Over the course of the next five to six years, Suki took the various lessons she’s learned over the years to control her fate and do battle with similarly experienced mortals whether genetic monstrosities from the future, body snatching immortals, conceptual identities taking physical form, summoners from entirely different sets of universes, god slayers, or even those who absorb death flags and the very future--heck even herself, Suki has managed to weasel her way into the winner’s circle using her wit and skill as an expert in Lightning, Yin, and Celestial Releases even going as far as to synchronize highly incompatible attributes and create the very form Synthesis when branching beyond the god-class. Her performance in tournaments tending to lack near the end compared her accomplishments.

Suki has also kept her cool when venturing into the depths of Oblivion, a dark and wonky world with a low atmosphere, the mental and spiritual beat-down of limbo, and gravity hundreds times that of Earth. Suki has also trained on Weak-point Mountain, a place that weighs on the spirit so much it’s almost impossible to release energy, which is remarked a danger zone due to the giant creatures that roam the button and the carnivorous beasts at the top. Additionally, Suki has gone to Netherworld once and has managed to evade the wildlife there while looking for the Garden of Eden.

When it comes to strategy, while Suki can be a little slow at times, once she has an ideal how a technique works, it’s basically a wrap. The only people Suki’s faced that could counter and deny her victory without interference were god slayers called Nina and Fusae, which left Suki on the cups of Double Taming Lightning every time as her only out. Otherwise, she tends to gauge the strength of her opponents using her speed before assessing how quickly she can deal with them, tending to use any spare time to setup attacks using needles, magnetism, paralysis, wires, spiritual severance, and on some occasions bladed weapons to trip up the opponent before overwhelming them with gigantic attacks when simple gashes aren’t enough. Suki also has the ability to purify or seal enemies when necessary, albeit she barely brings the right tools to seal her opponents.

As for Mirai, while her history isn’t well-known by many, nor as expansive as Suki’s, Mirai has had her fair share of battles against the very same espers and god slayers, managing to even put up an even fight at times when it was thought impossible. However, it should be clear she’s done battle against armies worth of esper before she even met Suki, warded off ghosts in the city of Asgard, and even scared off demon gods to protect her own world, if her battles against other high level sorceresses like her mother Sasara means nothing to you.

Each of the Guild Masters she’s crossed in her universe during her rebellion not seeming to even slow her any when she was gunning for Asgard at an adolescent age. Sure that was before she looked through the Claire Text but at the same, old age barely affected the outcome of their battle unlike the Grand Elder’s found in Suki’s universe, whether the conflict was physical or spiritual, she outsmarted each and everyone of them using nothing but the spells she learned during her time as a magical girl at the academia, only revealing her strongest spell--Dragonic Revolver against her closest friend Serena.

Again all of this being before she even got her hand of the Claire Text, participated in war with espers, stop the Psychic Time-bomb, enter Universe 9 unregistered, compete in the Magic Games, train under Fuu, face the demon-gods, and fight the god slayers. No wonder she was at the top of her class, cause she’s straight dominating the rank scene before even mellowing out enough to be seen as cold and mature to outsiders.

Unknown to many, Mirai’s familiar is actually a small black cat she has rarely called on other than a means of shielding herself from a fatal attack or harshly drawing magic straight out of her (Luminous). She also uses her twisted imagination to call on the aide of an entity she calls Hiei, a purple and black blob of magic that momentarily shifts between hydra, serpentine, and dragon with the power to seep into the shadows, tending to move at speeds around ten times that of Mirai’s Dragonic Revolver linearly. Hiei is Mirai’s main means of dealing with anyone she deems fodder or too inexperienced by beat her. Generally speaking, Mirai tends to overpower her enemies using a plethora of range focused and spread attacks while aiming to deal internal damage when unarmed.

Mirai tends to use smoke bombs, shuriken, kunai, and the legendary weapon Entropy she stole on her ventures throughout the galaxy to lay the pressure thick by storing energy and reflecting attacks, and has found ways to combine preset Substitution with the vastly untapped 3rd Reservoir’s magic to essentially cheat death and send its sensation towards those she has cursed to build advantage where tethers of magic would be thought pointless. Mirai turned Luminous into a pair of cat ears on her head and has trained with Hiei to use it to extend from her arm and maw on foes as solid chaos. Mirai also possesses the ability to use telekinesis and heal, although her ability to heal people is laughably poor.

LIGHTNING ROUND // UPRISING + THE BIG THREE

Suki and Mirai both have birthright, drive, skill, and innate talent as warriors. Suki, the heiress of her adept clan forced to learn the forgotten aspects of battle to ensure her victory and meet the remnants of her clan and learn the truth about what happened “that night”, all while balancing bonds with training for the ultimate goal of bettering herself in the back. As the only Xchiyu to make it so far, why not continue and prove there’s something more to being a warrior than meets the eye.

And Mirai, the girl whose father left her in the shadow of her superior mother and sister as a low class reject who went rogue with the magic passed down by the very person she hates to make a name for herself, diligently training for nothing else but to uncover the secrets about magic they couldn’t dare to find themselves. As the only one Magica other than her mother to take an active role in war, Mirai intends to show while power isn’t the be all end all to a fight, it’s a necessary evil.

When it comes to Mind, Mirai definitely takes it with all the study, tactical use of prep-time, her ever-growing affinity for magic, self-awareness, and serious attitude there’s far too much Mirai knows about herself and the world that would ever let her get blinded by anger so easily. There’s also the pressing matter she rarely needs to reflect or justify her wants or needs, and even when she does can already accept the flaws in her way of thinking, only changing when she feels it’s a necessity akin to those who’ve come before her. Whereas Suki is a touch more emotional than Mirai and has her visions skewed more than once.

When it comes to Spirit, Suki takes the cake. Despite Mirai’s tendency to use magic, it’s not the first time she’s budded heads with Mirai, and she proves to have the stronger soul by canceling out Mirai’s World Ending Slash with her very own Giga Swipe. Sure, Mirai is strong, but when Suki can use the lightning attribute, which is in the 2nd to lowest tier of Special Attacks ever against a a crackling blade of raw chaos which is categorized in the 2nd strongest tier of Special Attacks with the added ability to splice through enemies in other dimensions with a blade of lightning that solely draws power from the user, it’s clear Suki can easily tango with Mirai.

As for Heart, believe it or not, both Mirai and Suki have incredible strong hearts after the Slayers Saga where they kept surpassing each other in sheer ability time and time against the toughest of foes. While it took Suki longer to get herself straight due to how spiteful she was becoming with Aile and the intense rivalry that came from it, Mirai’s lack of emotional attachment to her allies left her relatively weak until Aile got through to her and made her reanalyze their mission’s purpose. Only then did they both care enough about the humanity behind their actions did they have that extra push they were missing to get back their Limpid Prism fragments to defeat Eri the Summoner and Daichi the Slayer Reject along all they saved on their ventures throughout the multiverse they’re assigned to.

CONCLUSION // RULINGS + TECHNICALITIES

In the end, they both would use up all their energy trying to best one another, but Suki would either tie or be victorious by a hair, despite all of Mirai’s advantages.

Mirai wouldn’t be able to keep using the 3rd Reservoir of magic she unlocked due to how exceptionally fast Suki would be when racking up hit, especially with all that energy disruption going on with Mirai, and since they’re “friends” trying to make Suki kill her would be insanely difficult with all the times they joined bodies. Suki knows Mirai’s tricks, and Mirai knows Suki’s decision-making procedures. Knowing this, Mirai would stray from melee as much as possible so she could keep generating more magic than she tends to use.

While Mirai would have Suki beat in power using her 5th World Ending Slash/World Ending Inferno and variants of the spell due to the vast revisions made to it, and how quick Mirai can escape harms way nowadays, Suki would have a very hard time using anything from her Laceration Series of techniques, forcing Suki to play tactically and using a plethora of celestial-attributed attacks, which have always taken a lot of energy for Suki to use opposed to how easily she can apply the yin attribute the her attacks, but keeping those shadows down is the only way Suki’s going to get close without using too much stamina. Spamming won’t help too much.

When it comes to defense, Mirai uses spherical barriers, while Suki uses an aura cloak, so by default, Suki’s Release is faster than Mirai’s Cast Time. However, Mirai has a much easier time using her barrier like a lens than Suki does erupting energy from such a cloak especially with how little time it actually lasts. Plus, ever since Mirai faced a blatant user of Anti-magic she’s been more concerned about how she layers her barriers and projectiles to fend off opponents. This means, Suki’s usual trick of rippling the energy holding the barriers up gets countered by the 2nd layer’s inclusion. Suki would be lucky to evade a blast right after its revelation.

The only reason Suki would manage to get Mirai back into her civilian form and keep it that way would be to use a whip of lightning to change the angle which they fight and tag Mirai’s Shadow Magic so she can bypass the visual flood and close distance with the fruits of mastering Hyper Hare so once they’re both in their normal states and Mirai’s low on magic but physically stronger, she can countered with one final rupture of lightning to outrun Mirai’s resistances and close the battle out with a body slam. Mirai wouldn’t expect Suki to manage tagging the very shadows she can use to Shadow Tag her enemies for curses.

It should be noted Yin is stronger than Chaos, so Suki technically has her means of damaging Mirai even if she directly coats herself in space-time fabric, but with how easy Mirai could trade herself in or a clone could be used, it’s not too viable akin to how Suki knows Mirai can see through her afterimages but wouldn’t best her when it comes to slice affinity. So Entropy would only help so much, and it would take way too much time to try Spell-bounding Suki with magic.

#ooc #outofgata #long post #it's just a comparison with gifs

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