#rewatching his lives are not helping as much it used to ššš
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So, do you guys ever feel like your life is a social experimentš§š½āāļø
#šŗ; aleyna rambles#lzkdhsjsj#sorry for dipping i have my finals going on lmao#the hardest part is over tho āŗļø#anyway iām tired and miss jungkook š#rewatching his lives are not helping as much it used to ššš#how are you guys itās been a while a feel like š#also about my life being a social experiment#itās like youād think it canāt get worse than this. thereās no way.#and then it does ššš like FUCJ IM TRYING MY BEST HERE WHY MAKE IT WORSE#2024 going horrible so far and january alone felt like a whole year with everything going on š#ok enough of that i hope everyone is hopefully doing well and if not iām sending you a big hug and the comfort food of your choice šš¼#i shall answer some asks and queue some posts šÆāāļø#also hi to anyone new here š! sorry if this is the first post youāre seeing from me after following#we struggling in this house 366 days š©
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Can i get a rex x male reader life day fic where Rex is having seasonal depression regarding his brothers, and reader comforts him over a mug of hot chocolate?
(I just rewatched the umbara arc and am craving hurt/comfort)
Of COURSE you can!! Umbara made unspeakable things to us... š„¹ Let's give our dear cap some comfort! š
PS. Remember I'm still taking any free xmas clone requests or any of the xmas prompts (reminder at the end of this oneshot).
Btw, I think this is my first time ever writing as a male reader. Hope you like it dear!
Xx, Blue.
"C FOR CHOCOLATE COMFORT" ā REX/MALE READER šš
WARNINGS: references to depression&burn out, lost family, and war. Established relationship, fleeting sex reference but no scene at all, kisses, comfort.
They should have been here too.
It's all Rex can think about, lounging on the sofa of his boyfriends's apartment in Corusscant; that his brave, loyal brothers should have had the right to enjoy Life Day too. All those little things nats like to do; decorate, bake, ice skate and build snowmans on one of the multiple artificial platforms in the Capital. They deserved to be cherished, loved; and not end like another lost number to this seemingly endless war.
Though Rex would never give up on this fight āhis sense of loyalty and his need to protect others too strong for thatā he can't help but feel some sort of tired numbness after Umbara. The good thing about having so many brothers is that he'd never feel really alone; the bad, that he's constantly losing people he has grown to love. Some deaths hit deeper than others; but all of them make a little tug at his heart, and Rex doesn't know how much longer he can soldier through them before the cord finally breaks.
The guilt is a problem on it's own. Why is he allowed to relax in a warm, cozy apartment, why can he have a beautiful relationship and enjoy this years Life Day, while other vods don't?
The sound of the door opening interrupts his spiraling thoughts; and Rex glances towards it right in time to see his partner locking the door and shooting him a shivering smile.
"Hey!" You grin at your favorite trooper, taking your scarf and gloves off and blowing some air on your cold fingertips. "Kark, I couldn't wait to get home!"
You abandon your jacket and winter accesories in the rack by the door ānext to Rex's armourā; carelessly shrug your boots off, and pad towards the living room. The heating system is on, and the floor is pleasantly warm. It's a welcoming feeling; you had felt yourself freezing, though you know you'll return to normal in just a few minutes.
You drop down next to Rex and press your body against his side; sitting sideways so that you can put your legs over his lap. Your hands inmediately climb up to the neck of his āyoursā jumper; fondly playing with it while you smile up at this god of a man.
"Hi" you whisper sweetly, eyes flickering over every inch of his handsome face. "Miss me?"
You have a habit of doing this; asking this silly questions in an unconscious attempt to help Rex express his feelings. He's a fantastic lover; but more often than not it's easier for him to show his love for you with his hands and lips āand cockā than to actually talk.
He doesn't find it annoying though āquite the opposite, it's endearing the way you sound so innocent and hopefullā; and gives in inmediately.
"Yeah" he whispers back, letting out a long sigh and closing his eyes. "You know I did, cyare".
You hum and stay quiet; observing your boyfriends reaction closely. You've been with him long enough to know there's something else going on.
"You' okay?" You ask, gently cupping his face between your hands, softly pushing up so that you can search for an answer in his eyes.
Rex flinches almost imperceptively; and you somehow doubt it's just because of your cold fingers. You give him a gentle look and caress his cheek with your thumbs.
"Want to talk about it?" You carefully ask.
The man sighs. All of his muscles relax like a deflated balloon; perhaps innerly glad you've caught onto his worries without him needing to point them out.
He catches your hands with his and squeezes them softly.
"Just the usual" he answers, voice low and vulnerable in the silence of the room. "Thinking on how lucky I am to be here, to have you, while others..."
Rex's throat bobs, the sentence unfinished, but you can guess his line of thought. You've talked about this before.
"It's not your fault" you tenderly say to him, a recurrent reminder in your relationship. "You can't control everything, love".
Rex sighs and dejectedly nods. He turns a bit around so that he can burry his face on your neck. Seek solace there. You caress his strong back up and down and kiss the crown of his blond head.
"I know" the captain mumbles against your skin, sending a little shiver through your body inevitably. "I just wish they were here too".
You nod, still hugging him, and cuddle his body further into you.
"And that's perfectly understandable, love" you validate, and both of you stay in silence for a few minutes, calming each other down.
When Rex stirs āa subtle sign that he's had enough of this sort of comfort and that he's a bit unsure about keeping showing this vulnerabilityā you let him pull back and shoot a grin at him.
"You know what you need?" You try to gain back a bit of that cheery holiday feeling, and pat his thigh while springing up to a stand. "A big C for Chocolate Comfort".
You peck his lips āperhaps deepening the kiss and delaying your departure a bit too much to be considered quick and innocentā and give him a last smile before you dissapear towards the kitchen.
Unknown to you, Rex smiles softly and patiently waits for you to come back; the small clattering of potts and mugs familiar and comforting. He has called you "love" before; but he hasn't actually told you he loves you yet. He will, soon. Your presence is like a warm blanket; a beacon of light in a world full of darkness.
You return ten minutes later; two mugs of hot, sweet chocolate in your hands. You carefully place them in the small living room table; signaling the darker one in colour to Rex.
"This one's yours. I used dark chocolate from Kashyyyk" you explain, attentively observing the man's reaction after his first temptative sip.
Rex groans; the sound so similar to what you usually hear in bed that it sends a faint blush all the way from your cheeks to your neck.
"It's great" he hums in aproval, glancing at your own mug still on the small coffee table. A little teasing smile perches on his lips. "And I assume you used the sweetest sugariest chocolate you could find for yours?"
You laugh, nodding in happy deafeat.
"You know me" you joke, taking a sip of your own hot chocolate and humming at how good it tastes.
Rex cups your face and turns it towards his; slowly dipping down to steal a soft, slow kiss.
"And I love every bit" he whispers softly, making you melt against him.
It's the closest Rex has come to admitting you he loves you; and you can't wait until he's finally confident to say it out loud. He's your man. He's it for you.
You smile and kiss him back; then rest your forehead against his.
"I love you, Rex. Happy Life Day".
Your boyfriend answers with a happy sigh and tenderly caress your cheeks with his thumbs.
"Happy Life Day, ner Karta (my heart)".
THE END.
Wasn't it sweet? I love Rex, aww
PS. Reminder of the prompts you can ask a request of (besides one of your own):
#rex x you#rex x male reader#rex/male reader#captain rex x you#captain rex x reader#captain rex#captain rex/male reader#captain rex x male reader#tcw rex#rex x reader#star wars#clones#fanfic#tbb#clone wars#fics#xmas#x male reader#star wars fanfiction#christmas#christmas requests#request#hurt/comfort#fluff#soft rex#the clone wars#corusscant#established relationship#tcw fanfic#oneshot
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Louk's Bad Batch rewatch part 15 !!! AND part 16 !!!
TWO IN ONE WHAT these eps are kinda short ?? or my thoughts are idk ?? so I put them both together on one post š¬ but anyway let's go batcherssss š¤
The Bad Batch 1x11
Crosshair you little gremlin š
ELENI AND HOWZER š„ŗšš„°š
can someone please explain to me why Orn Free Taa has extra lekku, weird tiny ears and three fingers instead of four ??? mans looks like a different species š
"They fought for us and they have earned our respect" settle down Cham we all know you're gonna change your mind in 5 minutes hush
HERA AND CHOPPER MY BELOVEDS ššš
"uncle Gobi" š„ŗ
Hera watching the birds in the sky š¤² following them with her hands š„ŗ
Howzer you absolute king š
Eleni and Gobi scheming together hehehe
I just know Eleni is SO proud of Hera š„² she's so much like her mom fr
"my hope is that you won't ever have to live a life like mine" ~ General Cham Syndulla ... meet General Hera Syndulla
"no take offs or landings" this is actually so adorable tho
Wrecker carrying all the weapons himself like he's only doing one trip with the groceries from the car to the house hehehe
Hera asks about the Marauder and Omega's like 'this beauty' *pat pat*
I wanna see Hunter's face watching Hera and Omega together š„ŗ
they're besties forever š
it's Hera's dream to live on a starship š
lmao could've had a bad batch reunion rn but Crosshair had other plans
Omega: ā"did you know flying is about a feeling?" Tech: I have no idea what this means
Howzer being the only one to question imprisoning a child š
Eleni didn't even wait for the speeder to stop moving before jumping out š
"attempted assassination of Orn Free Taa" ??? attempted ?? did he not just die ???
The Bad Batch 1x12
"how unfortunate for your people to see your fall" LMAO Rampart I've seen s2 š
Howzer immediately plotting to save Hera š
Hera and Chopper are absolute menaces and I respect them both for it
Gonky being part of the bad batch family š¤²
"you gave her our comm channel?" ~ Hunter is so done pls š
Tech: "children often overreact" Omega: "no we don't" YES OMEGA šš she is so passionate and caring and loving and loyal I genuinely feel so proud of her š
Omega: "isn't that what soldiers do" Hunter: šÆ
Wrecker @ Chopper: "what's his problem" how long do you have buddy?
Hera asking them all so desperately to save her family ššš she has always cared so deeply
y'all I'm confused did Orn Free Taa actually survive that shot to the head? I feel like Rampart has no reason to lie about it?
they all peeking with their binoculars
Hunter's little 'let's move' gesture š„°
Hunter hearing the droid and his sneak attack just dropping down on it š bro how did you get up there so fast ??
knife knife knife knife knife knife knife kni-
Tech: "oh good" lolol
Wrecker's face when Hunter says Crosshair knows they're there š
Omega grabbing Hera's hand š¤²
Echo's face explaining to Hera why they're after Cham šš
"I don't care about any of that, I just want my parents back" she's just a little kid in the middle of a war she doesn't understand š this is too real and absolutely heartbreaking
"She's trying to save her family Hunter. I'd do the same for you" you tell him Omega šŖš
Howzer and Crosshair staring at each other.....
Chopper and Hera having a lil chat š„ŗ
Omega: "he's my brother, they all are" Hera: "you're lucky" she really is š„ŗ
Howzer is trying so hard to protect Hera even with Cham hating on him and refusing to help save his own daughter š
Omega and Hera came up with a strategic plan and now Hunter's on board š„°
Tech is worried about them going by themselves š„²
Echo getting caught scaling the wall: "a little help?" lmaooo
AND Hunter's little "hey" to distract the reg before pulling Echo up š
"I won't tell if you wont" lmao I love these two together š
Omega: "don't shoot down our shuttle" Tech: "wait what shuttle?!" ~ how many heart attacks does Omega want to give Tech this episode š
Hera blowing up an imperial refinery........ š
Tech: 'Omega what was that explosion?!?! Omega: hehe don't worry about it š
Omega: "do some damage Wrecker" Wrecker: "that I can do!" Wrecker happy makes me happy š„°
THE TECH TURN THE TECH TURN THR TECH TURN THE RECH TUENCJDIWJXNW
Hunter telling Cham and Gobi that Hera hired them š
Hera: "we're getting the hang of this" Tech: "yes your dangerous and uncontrolled manoeuvring is as confusing to them as it is to us š" he is so far past done with them oml š
Howzer šššššš
Hunter looking back at him before they leave š
Howzer's whole speech in this scene ššš it reminds me of Fives giving his pep talk to the cadets š„²
Hunter sensing Crosshair??? and what if I never stop crying ??
my heart is breaking for Howzer I love him so bad š
Wrecker Omega high five š„ŗ
Tech teaching Hera and Omega š¤²š
"Tech showed me how to scramble a ships signature" TECH TAUGHT HERA ONE SKILL THAT SAVED HER ASS A MILLION TIMES š
"keep an eye on your brothers, they need it" ~ Hera, the wisest person in the show fr
...did Chopper just say "Chopper out"
Crosshair has too many expressions to count this last scene, asking to hunt the batch down... my theory is he never had his chip removed but that venator engine fried it and it slowly stops working... we know that a lot of the chips are slowly starting to stop working in other clones, maybe its the same for Crosshair ?? so he's feeling a lot of confusion at hunting them down ?? maybe idk lol
two more down!!! my internet is still shocking and it's taking me like an hour to watch each ep bc of all the buffering š„² but anywayyy thank yalls for joining ššš
#loukās bad batch rewatch#star wars#the bad batch#hunter bad batch#bad batch tech#tbb wrecker#tech bad batch#bad batch hunter#wrecker bad batch#tbb tech#hunter the bad batch#captain howzer#crosshair the bad batch#omega bad batch#hera syndulla#chopper#c1 10p#cham syndulla#eleni syndulla#the bad batch hunter#bad batch wrecker#the bad batch tech#echo bad batch#omega tbb#crosshair bad batch#the bad batch crosshair#hunter#star wars gifs#bad batch echo#bad batch crosshair
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nvm the episode doesnāt come out until 6am for em im gonna Kay Em Ess (/j) but for realsies why do bad things happen to good people ššš i just wanna see my husband Hwang Minhyun
Ugh yeah I was thinking wasnāt it 8:50 KST so still some time šš I need to rewatch the kiss scenes I literally threw my laptop when the kiss happened I was gone for like several minutes I had to recover
Also Iāve been listening to spoiler from the ost WAY TOO MUCH GOD THAT SONG IS TOO GOOD TO BE AN OST šš
HES SO BF OMG I DONT WANT TO WAIT EXTRA TIME TO WATCH THE NEXT EPS ššš
ive literally had these screenshots in my camera roll since the ep came out and i keep smiling whenever i look at them omg š
LIKE???? THIS KISS WAS EVERYTHING IM SO GLAD WE ACTUALLY GOT A KISS TOO CAUSE I AM TRAUMATIZED FROM LIVE ON š but live on minhyun was still cute and serves plenty of brain rot as well āļø
STUDENT MINHYUN IS JUST SKDFJHKSD HES TOO DAMN FINE HE WOULD BE EVERYONE'S HALLWAY CRUSH FR šššš but he'd also be the type of quiet good student who only had eyes for like 1 girl and 1 girl only so rip the rest of us <//3
i have way too many minhyun gifs saved (i may or may not have been attacking one of my friends BUT I WAS ATTACKING MYSELF TOO IN THE PROCESS š)
UGH UNIVERSE IS EVERYTHING THE SONG IS JUST WAY TOO GOOD AND HE LOOKED SO GOOD IN THE MV (tho help the mv still makes me laugh cause yk they had no budget when they have to use a western actress š)
IMAGINE HIM WALKING U HOME IN THE RAIN LIKE IM ACTUALLY DEVASTED šššššš
THIS GIF HAS BEEN RUNNING THROUGH MY BRAIN THE ENTIRE DAY BCUZ LOOK AT HIS POUT :( HES SO PRECIOUS AND SOMEONE NEEDS TO KISS THAT POUT OFF HIS FACE š
GAWD HES JUST TOO FINE FOR THIS WORLD AND I AM #WHIPPED FOR THIS MAN SINCE LIVE ON šššš (i feel like most ppl see minhyun in aos first why am i low-key proud that i saw him in live on first sdkjsk)
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I have.. so many wordsā¤šš
I started reading this for fun, but then I quickly became super invested!! Before this, I wasn't interested or had a liking to Rorschach. In fact, I didn't even know much about his character. I've seen Watchmen maybe once or twice so I was like 'oh, he looks familiar' and I decided to read. But then, I started to FEEL things.. It felt like I was truly there experiencing everything through the reader while watching her at the same time! Felt the same curiosity which grew to attachment that she'd felt for this mystery man. I even went to rewatch the movie right after I read this. Then after I watched it, I came right back here and reread it again šš I hope you don't mind but I noted some of my favorite moments and made commentsšš„°
You could feel your heart rate pick up as they got closer, and you hoped that they didnāt realize you lived in that building. You wished you didnāt feel so small but- The older man handed the food back to you without even looking. It was enough to bring you back to reality, and you took it quickly- the last thing you wanted was to antagonise him. Then he turned his body fully to the approaching group, and he waited patiently.
When he handed the food back to her and stepped in front of her, oh my god- my chest swelledšš He was defending her, and was going protect her from those guys if it became necessary. He was and I refuse to believe otherwise. When he takes the food again right after hmmmš„ŗ
The man still hadnāt acknowledgedĀ you, and your arms were growing heavy.Ā With nothing left to do, you opted toĀ walk past him and unlocked the door; chancing a glance back at his form. Perhaps you were delusional, but you swore you saw his head turning back to its original position. Had his gaze followed you? A glance. It was small and secret and you were elated.
I freaking squealed!! This made me so happyš I thought it was cute that he was just sitting there at her building's steps. Awww, he drank the coffee she gave to himš„ŗš„ŗ
But that first day you had come to him on that filthy street had felt like an itch had been scratched. For months he had felt eyes on him on that particular stretch of street, but when he had finally spotted you upon your little perch, he felt what it was like to have a question answered for once. It had startled him. You had startled him. He had imagined it was an old, fat creep spying on the passers-by or a whore looking for a clientā¦just like herā¦ But then there you were- this soft young woman with clean clothes and a gentle stare; you had almost fallen out of your seat, red cheeks visible even from his view point below.
The way he thinks about the reader, he just can't accept that her intentions are actually good. He doesn't even want to admit to himself that she's making him think and feel certain things. I also like how you've include what he's thinking and things from his point of viewš„° And I can't help but feel bad for what he said to her. He was so harsh to her and his words were so cruel. My heart was stomped on after that interactionš¢š
As one of the most recognizable figures of New Yorkās underbelly, Rorschach was used to the look of fright directed at him. What he was not used to was the look of solace that washed over your tight features once your eyes locked onto his inkblot face. Rorschach found something rewarding in your eyes. Fuel.
Screaming. Crying. Cheering and clappingš This is just what I neededš
āItās youā¦ā you whispered. āYouāre Rorschach.ā He let out a noise that sounded akin to a growl and a sigh. The sound send a shiver through your cold body. ThenĀ without another word, he pulled out a grappling hook like you had seen on the news, launched it, and disappeared into the smog and thick dark.
Oh shit, OH SHIT!! She recognized him!! I mean how could she not with that very familiar and very distinct voice of his?š
Rorschach was far from weak, but when he felt your soft lips brush back against his, he felt something deep inside him snap.
YESSSSS!!šš FREAKING FINALLY it's about damn time!!ā¤ļøāš„ THE SMUTššš„° I loved all of it!! So beautiful and steamy.. It was everything I needed and then some!! Oh my gosh, it was intense and so very well worth the waitš Definitely up there with some of the best smut I've ever read!!š Like shit, I want him- I want him now!!š„µā¤ļøāš„
I am blown away by how incredible this fic is. I wanted it to go on forever and everš Thank you so much for writing and sharing this OP. You're an amazing and talented writerš
A Pretty Butterfly
|The Watchmen|
Rorschach x fem!reader
Summery: Watching a stranger from your windows quickly turned into a human connection you craved. You just wanted to help this strange man who walked past your home everydayā¦but it seemed you got more than you had bargained for.
Warnings: SLOW BURN, violence, mentions of rape and assault, age-gap (reader is mid -late 20ās and Rorschach is 45) smut, dub-con, fingering, obsession, stalking, anxiety, Rorschach being a tit, pessimistic thoughts, self-sabotage, sunshine and grumpy old man dynamic
Word count: 13.8k words
MINORS DO NOT ENGAGE YOU WILL BE BLOCKED IF YOU DO FOR THE LOVE OF GOD DONT READ THIS
Notes: In the film, they claim Rorschach is 35, but the comic has him at 45 so I went with that instead. a special thanks to my buddy @mandowifey for sending me down this rabbit hole and helping me out with my scatter brainš¤
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You didnāt mean to stare.
That was a lie.
ā¦a half lie.
You liked to watch, but you didnāt mean to latch onto one face in particular when you peered out of your window. You never really had before; perhaps the odd flamboyantly dressed hooker or someone with outrageously done hair, but you couldnāt say you had ever taken notice of someone who seemed so inconsequential.
It was his red hair that made you look twice, at first.
From your little window, above a small tea shop that was run by a family who smelled of jasmine, you first saw that little man who wandered the streets of New York with his picket sign.
āThe end is nighā it said.
The first time you saw it, it made you laugh a little. So pessimistic. You wondered why he felt the need to forecast such a statement to the city. Was the end all he could see? Was there no good in his eyes?
Silly, you thought, to busy yourself with a strangerās story that you had fabricated entirely in your mind.
But then the second time, those words made you think.
Perhaps it was close- the end, that is. The more and more that chauvinistic Dooms Day Clock ticked, the more you started to believe that man.
It was inevitable.
Perhaps it was close, too.
You wondered if he was unstable- mentally or otherwise. Wandering the streets when he should have been getting help. But the more you watched, the more you realised about him and his meandering walk; never once did you see him lash out or scream like you had seen so many times from those who injected and snorted and drank any substance they could get their hands on.
You watched him for months- accidental at first, then you found yourself checking outside your window to see if he was there. It was as if he was your own personal dooms-day clock- each time you saw him it was a tick. Somehow you found him far more comforting than the Armageddon timepiece the government kept.
Then you got tired of walking from your desk to the window, and moved it up against the glass. You told yourself there was no harm in thoughtfully gazing at someoneā¦you werenāt harming him or yourself. You liked to pretend you were friendsā¦though you knew he wasnāt even aware of your existence. You bet he had a million odd stories of the world around him- he looked far older than you. Older and harsher.
Then came the day that changed your private little relationship.
The day he stared back.
It had scared you half to death when you had been watching him in your usual daze- silly smile on your face and chin in your palm- and he had paused. He had looked down the street, stopped, then snapped his head up to look you in the eye. He was 25 feet below you yet he saw you so clearly and you felt stripped bare.
You had nearly fallen out of your chair to scramble away from the window; goosebumps had sprung up on your arms and your feet had pins and needles in them. Your heart had leapt into your throat and pounded furiously. It had taken you 10 minutes to finally inch back to the window. To your relief, he was no longer there, but then distress began to set in as you wondered if you had scared him off. He didnāt exactly look blessed with monetary abundance, and you doubted he appreciated a strange woman staring down at him.
The next day, you thought he might not pass your street; having a stranger watch him was likely not on his to-do list and there were hundreds of streets for him to march down instead of yours.
However, even though you agreed with this likelihood of him not coming back, you found yourself unable to complete any work until noon. A call from your employer was the only thing that snapped you out of your reverie, and even then, you could barely focus on your work.
Your knee bounced as you did your best to prfioritize, and almost got lost in the work in front of you until out of the corner of your eye, you saw a flicker of red. It was embarrassing how fast you looked down, not that you truly cared.
Your heart jolted. He was there. You didnāt scare him off.
Then, he looked up again.
This time, you didnāt run. You held your groundā¦and even managed a little wave.
He didnāt wave back, and you even wondered if he saw it.
He only readjusted his sign over his shoulder and kept walking.
What an odd man.
Though you supposed you were just as odd to show such an interest in him.
Perhaps a little perverseā¦
You blanched at the thought; hoping to god that he didnāt think that.
While making dinner, a thought struck you. You made just a little extra food, and saved it in a container, even writing a note for yourself to not forget to give it to that strange man. You knew it was silly, and forward - truly very unlike you- but in a city where it was next to impossible to make any selfless human connectionā¦you didnāt want this to go to waste. Even if he told you to piss off, at least you could sleep at night knowing you tried.
So you waited.
You truly hoped against hope that your wish to show compassion wouldnāt be seen as anything but what it wasā¦though a part of you began to think you were practically asking for trouble or misinterpretation. The longer you sat the more nonsensical you felt as your knee bounced twice the speed of your heart beat.
It was almost 10 am when he came into your view, only this time it was as if he materialised out of nowhere instead of the slow walk from your right to your left.
You didnāt even wait to see if he would look up.
You didnāt let yourself think.
You dashed to your door, food in hand, and tore down the stairs to the small gate separating your homeās entrance from the figures trudging past. You opened it and stepped out onto the street, trying not to get stepped on by passers-by as you looked for him. To your luck, he was only ten feet down from your building, and before you could stop yourself, you quickened your pace to catch up.
āE-excuse me! Sir?ā You called softly once you were behind him. The man came to a slow stop and turned- a stoic look on his face.
Now that this man was in front of you and was giving you his very real attention, you felt your lungs cease their function for a few seconds, no words forming in your mouth either.
He was handsomeā¦in a strange sort of way.
He lookedā¦jagged, and guarded.
Thin, short, and tiredā¦but by god you couldnāt look away. Not until you realized you were staring again.
Simple and to the point.
You looked down at the container of food in your hands that was still warm.
āIām- I apologiseā¦I wanted you to have thisā¦itās getting cold.ā You said, holding out the food to him.
Most impersonal act of kindness in recorded history, well done.
You returned your eyes to his face, and found him looking right back at you. Neither angry nor kind. He simply lookedā¦beaten. Tired of his lifeā¦tired of the worldā¦you didnāt know for certain. But you understood.
Somehow.
āIām-ā¦Iām sorry for staring. And I hope youāre not allergic to anythingā¦um, thereās a fork in there, you can keep it, good to have, you know?ā You knew you were rambling, and very aware that he hadnāt looked away from you once. You fought to hold his gaze, but admittedly it was an intimidating stare.
He turned to walk away, and you felt panic fill you.
āPlease take it.ā You tried again, but he didnāt say a word.
He silently left you standing there, and you felt like New Yorkās biggest idiot.
It was the ramblingā¦defiantly the rambling. Oh maybe it was the act itself I mean he probably isnāt used to having that kind of- okay now thatās a bit of an over-assumptionā¦he might have lots of people offering him kindnessā¦and now youāre the one standing on the street staring at a lamppost.
ā¦pull yourself together.
You watched him disappear, just like your pride; whatever had been left of it. Your shoulders began to sag as defeat settled into you and turned your tongue sour.
Which was why you decided to do the exact same thing again the next day.
You waited. Perfectly ready to not see him after that embarrassing display yesterdayā¦but sure enough, there he was.
You noted that he did not not look up today, not that you blamed him.
You were out the door before you could dissuade yourself.
āMister!ā You called.
He didnāt turn this time.
You repeated yourself a little more clearly. āMister!ā
He kept walking. And somehow every time you almost caught up to him, he would slip out of your grasp.
You could only continue like that so far down the street, and eventually had to give up. He was stubbornā¦and you could be too. You didnāt know this manās story, and if he didnāt see himself as good enough to receive kindness, then you could continue until he did understandā¦or until he called the police on you for harassment.
So you did it again. And again.
You told yourself you would try two more times and if he didnāt take themā¦that would be that. You would have to move on.
You made a rich stew, and even put a few pieces of bread in a bag for him. You steeled your shot nerves, and began to walk down to your entrance before even seeing him.
You saw him coming from a few blocks away, and very slowly made your way into his path. He gradually took in your form, but didnāt pause or even stop. Not until he was a foot from you. But you held your ground.
āLookā¦Iām notā¦I donāt know why you wonāt let me help you, but I donāt want you to think Iām trying to get some gold star or have you boost my ego by being thankfulā¦I just want to show you kindness and if thatās too much for yo-ā
He held his hand out to you, palm up. He didnāt look away, and blinked slowly.
You might not have been the best at reading every person you met, but his message was obvious. āIf I take it will you leave me alone?ā
You grinned timidly, and placed the food in his hand gently. āKeep the containerā¦theyāre good to have.ā You said under your breath almost out of habit- it had been something your mother did and now you found yourself doing.
He took it without another word, and you felt a pleasant heat bloom in your chest.
The next day, you childishly watched for him again- as if he was your Santa Clause or tooth fairyā¦although he looked like he might knock someoneās teeth out rather than give them a couple coins for them.
You made a soup that would fill him up and picked up an extra loaf of bread to give him. Both sat on your lap as you sat on your stoop, ready for him. You kept telling yourself you just wanted to help out a lonely soul like yourself, and that you werenāt developing a juvenile crush on the man who hadnāt even spoken to you.
You leaned out periodically to see if you could see him, and found yourself readying your nerves to confront him again.
You sighed and went to lean out again, only to freeze rigidly.
āM-morning-ā you squeaked.
The very man you were waiting for was standing just feet from you, staring, and his free hand in his pocket. As if he had come up from the gutters themselves.
You hadnāt prepared for this kind of sudden interaction, and found yourself mentally throttling your brain to do something.
Anything.
It seemed however that whatever god was above you decided to take mercy on you for once, and the man reached out his hand just as he had the day previously.
You wordlessly handed it to him then remembered the bread. āOh! This um is for you tooā¦itās fresh.ā You added, pretending like your cheeks werenāt warm and your hands werenāt shaking.
You smiled gently, but it faded fast when you notices a small group of seedy men approaching the two of you. You didnāt like to instantly label people, but this particular flock of men were well known in the areaā¦you had watched them many a time from the safety of your window.
You instantly began to shrink in on yourself, and it seemed your change in demeanour was enough to catch the older manās attention. He followed your stare behind him, and his nose momentarily scrunched up in a displeased snarl. A mere twitch.
Vermin.
Rorschach felt something ugly build in him. He knew their faces wellā¦rape, theft, assault, vandalism. These men were true scum under his bootā¦he hated that he couldnāt put them in their place without his face.
āHey-yo mammi lookin good!ā
āHey you wanna lift that skirt a little more?ā
āWhatcha doin with the little rat, hm?ā
You could feel your heart rate pick up as they got closer, and you hoped that they didnāt realize you lived in that building. You wished you didnāt feel so small but-
The older man handed the food back to you without even looking. It was enough to bring you back to reality, and you took it quickly- the last thing you wanted was to antagonise him. Then he turned his body fully to the approaching group, and he waited patiently.
Your heart stopped. Was he about to-
He didnāt move from his stance in front of you, and he almost looked bored. Inconvenienced.
āThe fuck you gonna do weasel?ā One of them sneered.
Thatās not very nice-
Theyāre not nice PEOPLE
You watched, terrified, as they got into his face and towered over him. The last thing you wanted was for him to get beaten for just being near you-
āWhatās your fucking problem huh? Just gonna stare at us with those freak eyes cuz you canāt fight?ā Another taunted, guffawing.
You winced, and your eyes unfocusedā¦just like they used to-
But then, something in the men changed like a light switch. With his back to you and now a few feet away, you couldnāt tell if the man had said something, or done something, but what you did know was that the skinniest of the group was clapping the biggest on the shoulder and telling him āThe little rat aināt worth the trouble.ā But there was an urgency in him what wasnāt there before.
The men huffed and some blew kisses at you which made you wrap your sweater tighter around yourself wishing you could disappear. Your eyes refocused as you heard them walk away, and you slowly looked over at the older man who was now half turning back to you.
You stared at him, your appreciation evident on you face. āI- Thank you sirā¦I donātā¦ā Donāt want to think of what might have happened if you werenāt here, you wanted to say, but you kept it simple instead. You sighed and shook your head, then held out your offering to him, and the bread you were sure he would like.
The man stared, and rose his right brow slightly, then took both from you. He turned and left you there as if it was a normal day.
Your heart was still beating wildly by the time he had left your sight, and you couldnāt help but feel a warmth spread through you as you thought about him defending you; even if it was simply him not in the mood to witness a young woman have her dignity takenā¦he had done something, and that made you stare after him longer than usual.
You didnāt ask why he came back at all.
Nor why he was right by your stoop that morning.
And you never inquired as to why he never asked why you didnāt give him money.
He knew why you didnāt. Perhaps not enough to make a full admission to himself but he sensed something in youā¦that stupid little girl. You didnāt give him money because money was too easy to fall into sin. Gambling, drugs, whoresā¦all for money.
You wanted your kindness to stay as it was intended to be- good.
The warmth you had felt stewed in your stomach right through to the next day; you had made your way to your favourite shops early that morning and picked up a few bags of things to cook with. Then as you went to turn to your building, you paused.
You knew that red hair a mile away, and you only needed to look a few feet to see it resting against your stoop entrance.
He-
You looked around at nothing as if someone might tell you what you were seeing.
He was sat there on your buildingās steps, newspaper in handā¦reading. You considered continuing walking down the street and pretending like you didnāt see him or live there, but you felt silly even considering such a thing.
He didnt look up at you, and didnāt acknowledge you as you slowly approached the steps.
āMorning.ā You said gently. Your cheeks began to flush when you looked at him- attempting to retrieve your keys from your pocket without tripping. It came out almost absentmindedly, seeing as you didnāt exactly want him to know that you had been fixated on how to approach himā¦although you supposed you had already had blown that when you watched for him every day and chased him with foodā¦
He didnāt say a word.
An anxious knot began to tighten in your stomach. You truly didnāt know what to doā¦you didnāt want to seem rude if he just hadnāt heard you. You got to the first step and glanced down at your hot coffee. You wondered if he was able to speak at allā¦At this point, when you figured you were mostly talking to yourself and that he likely barely listened to a word you said.
āYou need this more than I doā¦itās September nowā¦getting cold.ā You bent down, hoping your paper bags didnāt rip, and placed it onto the second step by his boot.
You wanted to ask him why he was on your steps; wondered if he was waiting for you; wondered if he might clasp a hand over your mouth and slit your throat the moment you walked past him. It wasnāt that you wanted to think the worst, but after years of seeing the worst in the city, you couldnāt help it. You hoped that you were wrong, for you sanityās sake.
The man still hadnāt acknowledged you, and your arms were growing heavy. With nothing left to do, you opted to walk past him and unlocked the door; chancing a glance back at his form. Perhaps you were delusional, but you swore you saw his head turning back to its original position. Had his gaze followed you?
A glance.
It was small and secret and you were elated.
You wasted no time in running up the stairs into your apartment, and grabbing the food you had saved from the night before. You counted the seconds mentally that it took for you to descend the stairs again, hoping it wouldnāt be enough time for the man to disappear.
You nearly tripped on the last step when you saw him standing and folding the newspaper. In another attempt to regain your composure, you slowed your pace as you came to the top of the stoop. You almost handed the food to him from there, but it made you feel like someone with a saviour complex instead of just trying to be nice. The tentative step you took down to his level seemed to finally grasp his vague attention as he looked down at your feet then up to your face.
You held the food out by his gloved hand.
āI hope youāre okay, mister.ā You said earnestly, holding his gaze, āItās horrible out there.ā You didnāt know what made you say that, but it had been something that weighed on your mind for monthsā¦perhaps years. A dormant thought that his picket sign had awakened.
The man took the food, and it was then that you noted a certain despondency in his eyes. Perhaps it was the way his weathered face made them stand out so much more amongst the lines of age.
He left you there again just like he always did: silently.
Just as you were about to wander back up into your home, you glanced down and stopped and smiled.
There sat the coffee cup you had handed him.
It was empty.
Perhaps he was accepting your gestures in hopes of having you eventually leave him alone, but you were only fuelled by his recipiency. It became a routine for you to keep extra food for that man. Even if you ordered take-out, you kept some for him.
You noticed, however, that not long after you made contact with the strange man, a few things started happening to you that certainly had not before. In fact, you were beginning to ponder your sleep quality as you often woke up to far less food than when you had gone to sleep. Were you sleep walking? Or simply forgetting all together how much you had eaten?
Then came the dreams. At least a few times out of the week, your dream-addled mind swirled with unclear images of someone or something visiting you at night- a shadow, a whisper, a puff of smoke in the wind. You swore you woke up with things moved, but there was no forced entry that you could find, and thus you never thought more of it than you needing more sleep.
Weeks passed as you took it upon yourself to care for this man, even though he seemed to dislike the company. You knew he found you childish, it was beyond evident in his face when he stared at you. But even still, he took what you offered him, albeit begrudgingly.
Each time you saw him, a part of your heart felt bruised. Not that you pitied him -you were certain he would resent any pity- but you could tell when a person was damaged. Be it from something personal or the world itselfā¦it didnāt matter. You were all hurt in your own way. You wondered how long it had been since someone was kind to him; had he known much kindness at all? Had he lost everything? Did he have anything to lose in the first place?
You hoped you could provide him with a tiny little ray of hope amongst the arduous reality.
Perhaps you were too optimistic like your mother had said when you were littleā¦but you didnāt care. Not when it helped you sleep at night and get through the days of listening to the dwindling city below you.
But then, he stopped coming.
It had been a full month and a half since he had first accepted your offering. You had gotten so used to your routine that the first morning it happened, you felt sick- like a punch to your gut. You heart had dropped to your toes and your tongue felt heavy and your ears rang. You instantly thought the worst. Of course you tried to rationalise it, telling yourself that he most likely just wanted a change in his route and would be gone for that dayā¦or perhaps he simply got sick and didnāt go for his usual walk.
When you sat there at your window, having gone back up dejectedly, you found yourself staring into nothingness. You hadnāt realized how attached you had become to that little man.
This man who never spoke had become a friend of sortsā¦some kind of stanger who gave you a tiny bit of human contact that you grew dependant on. It wasnāt as if he was kind to you, in fact he was a little standoffish when it came to youā¦you wondered if you bothered him more than anything elseā¦and the more you thought about it the more you realized you probably did.
That night came and went; quiet and lonely aside from those strange dreams. Your eyes prickled when you awoke- already feeling empty.
You felt so silly. So selfish. Ridiculous really.
You felt even more ridiculous when you called in sick to work even though you couldnāt afford it. You found yourself wandering the streets without the slightest idea where that man came from or what his routine was, so you picked some directions to try and set off. There was no plan, you just needed to know that the one person you actually cared about wasnāt laying dead in an alley, at the very least.
It took three hours.
Three.
Asking various vendors and urchins of the streets before you were pointed in the direction that ultimately led you to that tuft of dirty red hair. He was passing by a news stand, that simple pace carrying him as always.
āMister!ā You called before you could tell yourself this was stalkingā¦and the fact that you had no plan whatsoever.
The only indication that he heard you was when the manās steps faltered for a moment. A slight pause in his foot and a tightening of his shoulders.
You ran to him, and moved into his field of vision. He stared at you almost like a stranger, and that stung you more than it should have. But you did your best to remain calm and kind.
āI havenāt- you-ā you tried, but failed to catch your breath, āI thought something had happened to youā¦but Iām so glad to see you safe. Can I- can I buy you lunch?ā You asked him.
The man stared at you hard, that line between his brows even more pronounced than usual. He was thinking.
Rorschach loathed how bare he was without his face. If he wasnāt in disguise he wouldnāt hesitate to tell you to take your pity elsewhere, anything to get you to unstick yourself from him.
When he didnāt budge, you shifted on your feet, looking around to break his intense eye contact, āI- you dont have to repay me or anythingā¦just a bite to eat. I care about youā¦- more than I should probably.ā
āYou shouldnāt.ā
You almost jumped at the voice that left him.
That was the first time he had said a word to you, and you admittedly never would have thought that that would be his voice- it was so deep and hoarse that you shivered.
Then you realised what he had said.
āI sh-ā¦why?ā You asked, scrunching your brows together.
He hated his weakness in finally speaking. You would never let go now.
āPeople like you donāt care about people like me, and vice versa.ā His words came in a rumble, and they tore you down so easily. A stomp to your heart.
You tried to pretend like tears werenāt welling in your eyes; like you were stronger than the curt, sharp words of a man you barely knew. āAnd what kind of people are my people?ā You pushed, though it sounded more desperate than you wanted.
His face was pure stone. āGood people.ā
You swallowed. āAnd youāre bad?ā The question was timid; any wind that had been in your sails was long gone as soon as he had opened his mouth.
āYes.ā He rasped. Rorschach didnāt have the patience to baby you, and frankly his temper was rising the more you made him speak.
āCall me naiveā¦but you donāt seem bad to meā¦you lookā¦worn down.ā You shrugged. āYou seem like you need a little good in your lifeā¦and I really want to help you with that-ā
āNo you donāt.ā
He said it so quickly it was as if he had practiced it or said it before. You wondered how many times he had gotten hurt.
As you searched for any retort, he continued, and began to stalk towards you causing you to back away. āYou donāt want to help with anything. What you want is to feel a little less self absorbed than you already do but in doing so you only fall further into your pathetic, egocentric existence. You think youāre being compassionate? Look again. Youāre nothing but a privileged little girl looking for a new toy until she gets bored and wants another one. Look in the mirror for once and see what you really are, you wretch.ā
His words rang in your ears, and you felt lightheaded. He stared you down a moment longer, then he was turning around and disappeared into the crowd before you could find a rebuttal or feel your hands. You were numb.
Your heart ached as much as your feet did, if not more.
Noā¦certainly more. You felt nauseated.
It was as if a bucket of ice water had been dumped on you from the top of one of the skyscrapers above you. You felt cold and breathless.
You didnāt remember walking home, but you must have seeing as you were sitting on your couch, coat off and tears dry by 6 pm.
You never thought he cared that much; thought he just saw you as a free meal and you were alright with thatā¦but hearing what he had thought of you all along made you want to double over at your stupidity.
Had he been obvious in his distain and you just hadnāt noticed? You supposed it had been you who forced him to take your food in the first placeā¦he had tried to get away from you but never could because you were so persistent. You were selfish in your want to help, and it had angered him terribly.
And you had lied to yourself; you had told yourself that if he told you to piss off, you would just have to accept thatā¦but here you were with him telling you just that and you couldnāt handle it.
You should have known it was only a matter of time before you pushed this stranger too farā¦
He was like a wild dog; he would respect youā¦and then he wouldnāt.
And now you felt even worse for comparing him to a dog.
You hung your head in your hands and let your tears fall. In your want to help someone you had only made an enemy, and made yourself feel more alone than ever.
But that one morning still played over and over if your mind- when he hadnāt let that gang of men get any closer to you; he could have so easily just taken the food and walked away to leave you to their mercyā¦but he had stood his ground.
Your head ached as you tried to rationalise everything and piece it together.
But all you could come up with was that he thought you were a horrible personā¦and you were starting to believe him. You supposed you were nothing more than a caterer for him and you had pushed his boundaries too much.
It was all your fault.
A week passed. Every night, you still made the extra food for him, only now you left it out on the stoop since you didnāt see him anymore; hoping he might wander by when you werenāt looking. But you felt your heart ache when it was untouched. On more than one occasion the food was taken, but you assumed it wasnāt yourā¦friend.
Of course, you had no idea that the very man you urned for sat beside those containers almost every night for at least an hour without his face. He never touched what you left for him, and he stared at it in distain. You were young, and you were stupid. He gathered he couldnāt even call you a whore yetā¦hell you almost had a pretentious halo around you from being born still. He wondered how it felt to be so utterly ignorant.
Rorschach hated that he knew more about you than you thought. That he had taken up the habit of perching on your fire escape outside your window as he wrote in his journal, and you cooked or read.
What he didnāt know was why you did this. Rorschach was a master of puzzles and he loathed that he couldnāt figure your motive out, not fully at least.
You said you cared.
Said you wanted to helpā¦
Stupid.
There was no way in hell that anything you said was true. There was some kind of poison lacing your words and he had already let himself be exposed too long. No one liked Walter Kovacs, and no one liked Rorschach; they used him and worked with himā¦but like?
No.
A young woman liking him?
Unheard of.
Preposterous.
But that first day you had come to him on that filthy street had felt like an itch had been scratched. For months he had felt eyes on him on that particular stretch of street, but when he had finally spotted you upon your little perch, he felt what it was like to have a question answered for once. It had startled him. You had startled him. He had imagined it was an old, fat creep spying on the passers-by or a whore looking for a clientā¦just like herā¦
But then there you were- this soft young woman with clean clothes and a gentle stare; you had almost fallen out of your seat, red cheeks visible even from his view point below.
Just another strange woman then.
Thenā¦and only then when you had burst out onto the street, and run after him did he allow himself to look at you. Actually look at you.
You had looked irritatingly familiar.
There was a timidness to your eyes- a sadness that had turned to kindness. A stark contrast to the sadness in his own eyes- a sadness that had turned to venom and ice long ago.
Your voice was soft as you spoke all in a rush and apologising as you held that peace offering to him. A warm meal.
Selfless.
You were young, and selfless.
You didnāt care that he was as filthy as the street you stood on. That he hadnāt even spoken a word.
You had just wanted to help.
Stupid.
Rorschach was pleased that he had chosen to leave you there; he wasnāt one to pick up strays.
But you were stubborn. He loathed how stubborn you were. Treating him like he was a bug under your microscope.
That next time when he finally took your selfish, presumptuous offering, he considered not eating the food lest it be poisoned, but then again that wouldnāt be the worst thing he had endured in his lifetime.
He had watched you retreat back into your little home like some little, pathetic mouse.
He wasnāt young, or stupid, or naive, or innocent.
He wasnāt about let his gaze wander to some girl who would be a whore in a year or two.
At least that was what he had told himself up until night fell. Once the city was plunged into darkness and his disguise came off, Rorschach clenched his bloodied knuckles as he scaled a near-by building. Jumping from rooftop to rooftop until he came to a familiar neighbourhood. Rorschach had huffed behind his mask, and crawled down the ladder system to your window; a sick, juvenile curiosity making him feeble. Contempt flooded him.
He sat outside your windowā¦watched you as you put yourself to sleep; tugging frustratedly at your night-dress when it bunched up under your blanket. There was an innocence to you that made his nostrils flare under his mask and his ears ring; as if an old memory was trying to resurface. It was ludicrous, of course.
Your window had opened surprisingly quietly, and he soundlessly eased himself inside. Your home was simple and comfortable despite likely having a landlord who didnāt give two shits about you. Tidy enough for a young woman. Rorschach stalked from shadow to shadow, mapping out the apartment. Then he came to your bedroom, and he paused; watched how gently you breathed as sleep took you. As if you didnāt have a care in the world, or perhaps you simply werenāt aware of the scum that lay below you.
He told himself he was just collecting information on this strange person who had extended him a disingenuous olive branch. Nothing more.
It wasnāt that there was an itch in his hands when he saw you, or a twitch in his eye when he heard your voice; that you got under his skin.
You little creature.
A little light that had turned on in his dark world.
He hated the light.
He stared at the dress that you had worn that day- draped over the back of a chair in the corner of your room. It had sat at your knee, a modest length especially given your young age. It wasnāt often that a young woman attempted to protect herself with a show of dignity. He gathered you must be hiding somethingā¦
You were odd. A sliver of grey in his black and white world.
He hated grey. It made no sense.
Then there was the routine that you forced him to partake in.
He found his steps slowing when he passed your building- not out of expectation but out of a foolishness that made him engage in the childish game you laid out.
Your presence ate away at him like a corrosive acid.
Each day he expected you to not be there. To disappoint him like everyone else.
But you never disappointed him, and he loathed it.
There was twice where he had made it past your building with no sign of you, and he had decided that the game was done and he could carry on with his existence, but then that frantic little voice of yours would make him stop. Calling after him like he was so important. Like you needed to give him your kindness as much as you assumed he needed to receive it.
Then he found himself slipping.
So stupid.
Putting off jobs or rerouting himself to pass your window. Just a glimpse- a reassurance that you were alright like double checking that you have your wallet when you leave the house.
Then it wasnāt enough. He began to sleep there on your stoop, picket sign beside him like an old friend. He didnāt care if he saw you in the mornings, but he saw the type of people who frequented the area and he wasnāt about to let a single one get past your door. He didnāt need the blood of a foolish woman on his hands as well.
The image of your bloodied, violated limp body made his stomach churn; just like it had when he found Blair Rocheās remains. And that was what scared him- or the closest thing he could feel to fear.
He held this pristine little being in his pale hand, and he knew that the longer he held it, the more likely it became that he would ruin it. Crush you in his palm just like that man had done to that little girl all those years agoā¦taking Walter Kovacs with him.
And he would not drag you down with him. He would not stoop to that monsterās level.
So he stopped showing you his disguise. He couldnāt have you know he was there, just like the rest of New York. He needed you to forget about him; treat him like a ghost you saw out of the corner of your eye.
When he was across the city that morning and still heard your voice behind him, he had felt his muscles tighten in distain.
Because then it wasnāt a game anymore. He was done.
But you were so insistent that you cared.
You truly cared.
You had spent god knows how long looking for him.
As soon as he had heard you, he had to steel his composure lest you attempt to lure him back into your scheme.
He hated that you had gotten him to speak, but he had watched you crumble under his words; it was alright that you were upset. He could handle that far easier than your kindness- perhaps you might even grow from a little cruelty.
Weeks passed, and he found himself returning to his usual schedule; almost appreciating the simplicity of the dullness and angst.
It was a Tuesday night when Rorschach sat on an old roof top, jotting down his visit to Daniel Dreibergās home- noting that he had gotten even lazier with his physique and needed to stop lying to himself about the state of the world. The odd scream and rushed fuck in an alley-way rang out below him here and there; the usual.
Dull, really. He sighed, and tucked the book inside his coat. He leaped down to the neighbouring roof, and trudged along it.
Then from down below, he swore he heard a familiar voice.
Rorschach almost rolled his eyes as he came to the edge of the roof and looked down. It was dark, but he knew your voice from a mile away- you had forced that skill upon him.
You were backing away from five men, all considerably more imposing than yourself and your warm drink. Hot chocolate to be exact. You always had at least one once a weekā¦taking a stroll to a small coffee house-
Rorschach ground his fist into the brick to halt his unnecessary thoughts as he crouched.
He listened to the men taunt you, and saw them back you into an alley wall.
He watched, bored, waiting to see what might happen. Then the more he listened, the more he came to realize that the conversation being had sounded familiar.
āWhat you thought Iād be locked up forever, pumpkin? Nah they just needed some good behaviour ān that was enough for them to slap my ass outta there.ā One of them laughed, and he neared your cowering form.
Rorschach noted just how badly you shook.
āWhat? Youāre not happy to see me? Cmon now, donāt you have a kiss for daddy, hm?ā The man sneered, successfully trapping you against the disgusting alley wall.
Rorschach began creeping down closer to hear, his eye twitching under his face when he watched the other men keep a look out and stare at you like meat on a plate.
āThere you were thinking you were so smart with that speech of yoursā¦ āMy boyfriend raped me and made me watch him launder all the money.ā.ā, he put on a horrible high pitched voice to mock you, āGod you sounded pathetic. 15 fucking yearsā¦got out in 7ā¦missed you, you know?ā
Rorschachās brain itched as he tried to recall this particular monsterā¦it was all so-
Then it clicked.
That nagging familiarity of your face wasnāt a coincidence. He had seen you before, of course he had. He felt so stupid.
He had been outside the courthouse after you had given your heartbreaking testimony and that vile man was sentenced to 15 years for assault, murder, rape, and money laundering with attachments to drug trafficking to the homeless. Some monster with a god complex. He had seen you come down the stairs, one of your eyes still black, and head down as the onslaught of reporters and media flocked to you. You had been in the damn paper, why the hell didnāt he remember that. You were barely legal tooā¦he remembered how his stomach had churned-
Your scream snapped him out of his memory, and he was leaping down into that alley before you could finish your cry for help. You sounded so terrified.
As Rorschach landed, a knife was held up to your lips, ready to carve your face. He felt rage fill his veins; was there no end to the putrid barbarians that staked their claim on what they saw fit?
He cleared his throat. Each head turned to him, including yours, as he stood.
As one of the most recognizable figures of New Yorkās underbelly, Rorschach was used to the look of fright directed at him. What he was not used to was the look of solace that washed over your tight features once your eyes locked onto his inkblot face.
Rorschach found something rewarding in your eyes.
Fuel.
The man holding your throat nodded for the man closest to Rorschach to attack first, which he did. His neck snapping echoed louder than your sobs.
The cold knife poked carelessly into your soft cheek, and you did your best to squirm away.
The next man to lunge at the vigilante smashed his bottle of beer against the brick wall, smirking as if his glass weapon would do any good. Rorschach let him get close. Then faster than a bullet he snatched the manās weapon-laden hand and squeeze tight; the bottle breaking easily in his fist and puncturing the manās hand like a balloon on a tack.
Two other men attempted to assault Rorschach, and each time he found such generous abundance of horror and dread in their eyes right before he gifted them each with an irreversible injury.
One after another, the men fell, until it was just Rorschach, the man holding you, and you.
He knew the dog had a name- knew he had heard it specifically- but he couldnāt bring himself to care. No doubt he would hear it over a news channel tomorrow.
The lout man held you tight, and knocked your head against the wall to stun you before turning to Rorschach. You slumped to the ground and watched as the masked vigilante took measured steps to him as if to speed up the process.
You had heard of the Watchmen before, and the countless criminals they had put away and subsequent lives they had savedā¦but Rorschach wasnāt what you had imagined. He didnāt tell you to save yourself or ask if you were alright. He was silent.
And somehow you found comfort in that-as if you were in the fight with him instead of a damsel in distress. You couldnāt look away, even going so far as looking for something to immobilize the brute of a man who had stolen so much from you all those years ago when you didnāt know any better.
Then once you looked up again, he was down in a heap.
You didnāt even see the altercation, but regardless there was an evident dent in the side of his bleeding head.
The filthy alley floor dug into your knees as you sat and stared. Your mind was playing catch-up with your eyes, and you felt as if the world had been eradicated from your shoulders.
You felt tears well in your eyes and a line of gratitude on your tongue.
Then the masked man turned to you and your entire world shifted when he spoke.
āGo home.ā Was all he said.
But it wasnāt how he said it or what he said.
It was his voice.
You knew that voice.
You missed that voice.
You had wanted so badly to understand that voiceā¦
Even the compact build and attitude were right.
Your lungs burned from you forgetting to breathe for a moment.
You stared up at his looming figure, eyes wide and tears long forgotten.
āItās youā¦ā you whispered. āYouāre Rorschach.ā
He let out a noise that sounded akin to a growl and a sigh. The sound send a shiver through your cold body. Then without another word, he pulled out a grappling hook like you had seen on the news, launched it, and disappeared into the smog and thick dark.
Rorschach berated himself for hours following the incident. So badly that he beat an old pimp into a coma and ripped his face off to breathe as he sat on a fire escape.
This was a nightmare.
You knew him. Knew his face and his voice.
He had slipped.
Stupid stupid stupid stupid.
There was only one thing he could think of that might rectify it, and it didnāt include you living.
He sighed.
Rorschach stood outside your door, returned to his disguise, and found that he could hear your footsteps through the thin wood. You were cleaningā¦ doing something to distract yourself. Your hands were shaking judging by how you kept dropping things.
He knocked three times, and heard you pause at the sound. Paranoid. Frightened. You very quietly approached the door, and took a look through your peephole before falling completely silent.
You weighed your options; you could not open the door, and risk that pissing him off and breaking the door downā¦or you could open it and simply speed up the process of whatever it was he wanted. It took ten seconds before you pulled the door open for him.
There was no hiding how startled you were by him being thereā¦now that you knew exactly who he was.
You were looking for something he say, he could practically hear your mind working awayā¦up until your eyes fell on his bashed cheek and the blood drying there. You hadnāt realised he had gotten hit during the fight.
āY-youāre hurt,ā you murmured, and he nodded, not letting his eyes leave you. You sighed and stood aside, āCome in.ā
He stared at you for a moment, then slowly walked past you into your home as if it was the first time he had been there. Like he didnāt know the layout and where you slept and how you folded your clothes or the hangers you used.
āSit down.ā You gestured to the couch, and offered a very small smile as if to reassure him that he was welcome there. That you werenāt holly terrified of him.
Rorschach sat, and watched you as you approached him with a cloth and small bowl of water. You sat close to him, and brought the cloth up to his cheek after wringing it out, but he caught your wrist before you could get any nearer.
He looked at you. Truly looked at you. Looked through you.
āYou shouldnāt waste your tears on something so undeserving as a man.ā He rumbled.
Your eyes were locked on his, and you felt as if all air was sucked out of you. You still werenāt used to that voice of his; pure gravel.
His words hung heavy in your ears, and you realized that you must have looked like an absolute mess- tears still drying on your cheeks from sobbing for your life in the alley.
He watched you take the tactless comment and he slowly released your wrist, and you gently began to clean his injury and grime on his face. There was a firm line between your brows as your worked- wiping the sharp planes of his face while trying to ignore his eyes on you, burning a hole through your skull.
His face came clean, and your bowl of water was murky and pink. This was possibly the most surreal nights you had had in a very long time. You went to get up but again, his hand caught your forearm and kept you seated. You looked from his hand to his face, staying quiet.
āWhy are you helping me?ā He snipped, grip tight.
You blinked, and searched his handsome face for any idea why he might doubt you aside from the fear he caused you.
You shook your head, āWhy wouldnt-ā
āWhy?ā Rorschach snarled, pulling you so close that you breathed the same air- those cold blue eyes of his harsh and intimidating.
You gasped, but refused to look away. His grip hurt, but he had saved your life and you were afraid that if you said or did the wrong thing he would disappear again. It was pathetic, you knew that, but you felt a strange bond to him.
And though he didnāt want to admit it, he felt an odd attachment to you as well.
For 45 years he had only ever seen the greed and filth that came from humanity; shaped from it, starting from the very womb he was born from. Lies and hatred, murder and rape and theft and horror beyond your imagination. For him to find your grey in amongst the rubble of humanity, it felt like good gold. He was waiting to rub away a coating of false innocence and find another piece of coal.
But there you wereā¦coming whiter and whiter until-
Rorschach didnāt like being wrong. Being surprised. It was tedious.
But it would be a lie if he said you were anything but one of the innocents.
A good person.
Each of the deeds you had done for him had in fact come from a place of benevolence, and not deceit.
Rorschach let his grip on you lighten.
Despite your brain cautioning you of the vigilante in front of you, you simply stared back at him and ignored how strong his hold on you was.you did note that he released you slightly, the same moment his eye twitched.
āI think thereās something to that old saying of a wounded soul recognizing another wounded soulā¦you looked like you had some decency left in you, sirā¦please donāt tell me I was wrong.ā Your voice was soft. Gentle. But no less direct than his. You were kind, not weak, and you were hoping against hope that he wasnāt like Americaās favourite hero, the Comedian when it came to women; a line of them out his door begging for his sexual attention and him using them then tossing them aside as he pleased.
āOr maybe Iām just stupid.ā You shrugged and looked away, afraid he might confirm your statement. You wouldnāt put it past him to be blunt.
Rorschach almost reacted to your use of that word. For so long he had labeled you as such, and while you might very well still beā¦he was sceptical to assume anything of you. He continued to stare, his sharp eyes cutting into you like you were a cloud of vapour. He relaxed his grip on you again, and stared at where he had held your arm- red finger marks forming on your clean skin. You must have washed yourself as soon as you had gotten homeā¦scrubbed yourself clean from those vermin.
Good.
āI haveā¦I have some dinner I was going to-umā¦well bring down for youā¦if you want it.ā You began to shift uncomfortably under his gaze when he looked back at you. You swore he stared more than he spoke.
He nodded after a moment, and you smiled a little.
An incandescent sight.
āOkay.ā You whispered, finally getting up. It was surreal.
Rorschach watched you go, noting that a pleasant scent followed after you.
Why did he notice that?
You walked to your little kitchen, and placed the dirty cloth and water in the sink before going to grab the pot of warm soup. You filled a bowl for him, and turned around to grab a spoon when you froze and jumped back, spilling some soup.
You hadnāt even heard him walk up behind you, didnāt even feel him even though he was a mere breath away.
āWhat are youā¦?ā You murmured.
He watched you startle, and looked for any last ill intent or motive; any snark comment or any price you might want to put on your kindnessā¦but nothing came.
It never did.
His breath was on your face, and you could only stare at him. There was a tragedy to him, hidden under the dirt, and he was impossible to read. He might have been plotting your gruesome death and you would have no idea.
Rorschach focused on you.
Fixated.
So innocentā¦white and pristine amongst the blood, filth and rot of his world. He hated it. Hated how you were allowed to be like that; a poster child for something that didnāt exist freely.
He sighed, pursing his mouth.
You had chosen this; you had decided to care for him. You had lead him down this path.
You had given yourself to him.
You looked away for a moment, and gingerly placed the bowl down before you spilled it. Then before you could think of anything to say with this dangerous man who was a hair away from you, you felt the skin of his lips catch yours when you turned back.
You wouldnāt call it a kiss- it was more of a hook or bait. A test. But when he did it againā¦that was a kiss; tentative and slight as it was. He heard your breath catch , and could feel the heat from your cheeks as they warmed and flushed.
You blushed.
Whores didnāt blush.
He kissed you again, with a little more force, and your hands came up slowly to his chest, resting there like you hadnāt decided if you wanted to draw him closer or push him away.
He might have been one of the most infamous men in New Yorkā¦if not America, but he was flesh and blood underneath that mask. He was warm, and sturdy.
Rorschach was far from weak, but when he felt your soft lips brush back against his, he felt something deep inside him snap.
A low growl rumbled in his chest and he unclenched his fists; bringing his calloused hands up to grab the back of your head and your jaw to draw you closer as he backed you hard against the counter.
It was messy and Rorschach held you possesively as you gave into him. Your teeth clanked together, and your rhythm was fueled with need as he nipped and bullied his tongue into your eager mouth. He gripped your hair so tight it hurt your roots but you didnāt dare tell him to stop.
He only removed his hands from you to shuck off his jacket and gloves, mouth still sealed over yours, and then they were back on you. Grabbing at your flesh, drawing you closer; chest flush against yours.
You shakily forced your hands between and the two of you and began unbuttoning his shirt- the older man hummed in regards to your tremor.
You nervously loosened his tie and let your hands wander over the skin of his collar and chest. You hadnāt expected him to be so strong, but knowing who he was, it only made sense. Before you could get any further he weaved his fingers into your hair and pulled your head away from him.
Rorschach held you there for a moment, soaking in how you stilled so obediently; staring at you as his free hand began to gather the hem of your little night dress. He huffed, and gave your roots a quick squeeze, and the message was clear: āStay.ā
Then once he was satisfied with your cooperation, he brought his other hand down to the other side of your nightie and brought the garment up and over your head with ease. He let it fall to the ground, and you followed its descent; unable to look at the older man now that you were left in your panties while he was still almost fully clothed.
He placed two fingers under your chin to force you to look at him; you felt your blush deepen when you saw how blown his pupils were. He looked determined, and feral- deep breaths making his chest heave.
Before you could say a word, Rorschach scooped you into his arms and didnāt even pretend to not know where your bedroom was. A gasp escaped you, and your wrapped your arms around his shoulders. He carried you with little effort, and had you plopped down on your mattress in seconds. The older man crawled over you before you could even sit up; lips on yours, kissing you so hard your mouth grew tender. He only paused to pull back and kick off his trousers.
Then he was everywhere.
Rough hands grabbing at your soft skin; low rumbles and hums in his chest that vibrated against you and made you need him even more. He kissed and bit at you- marking you as his. You held onto his strong shoulders, whimpering and moaning quietly as he made you forget your own name and only know his.
Rorschach bit into your neck, and rocked firmly against you. You could feel him scorching and pulsing against your core, rubbing hard against you to create friction that had you forgetting to breathe.
āP-pleaseā you whispered, raising your hips up to meet his.
The man stopped, and you immediately regretted saying anything. He pulled away to stare down at you. You thought you had done something wrong until he spoke.
āSay that again.ā He murmured, his nose brushing yours.
Your quick beating heart was so clear for him to see, along with your nearly black eyes; the throbbing vein in your neck and pulse in your chest.
āPleaseā¦ā you said again, lips red and swollen.
He sucked in a breath. Having your warm, soft skin against his bare chest was the first human contact he had felt in decades. It made him feelā¦human. He was fighting to maintain his practiced composure, but he could feel it slipping through his fingers with that one word.
āAgain.ā He rasped against your lips, throat tight; invading every inch of your space. He knew he shouldnāt ask it if you, but be needed this. He needed you to say it again.
You swallowed.
āā¦please.ā Came your timid, needy voice. Your hands started to fidget as he refused to look away, barely blinking as he took you in. Drank your generous vulnerability.
Rorschach hummed low in his chest.
āYouāre mine.ā He growled simply, the skin of his lips catching yours as he spoke.
Your mind was gone already, sitting that bowl of cold soup on the counter.
You could only nod.
He sighed through his nose, and then it was as if the last part of his restraint broke. Rorschach locked his lips onto yours, and you parted yours to gasp as his hand came to your hip- squeezing and stroking your skin. His tongue moved against yours and you let out a surprised moan that he swallowed greedily. Then just as quickly, he ripped himself away from you, and you watched his veiny hands as they pulled himself from his boxers; painfully hard and leaking precum. Youād be lying in you said you hadnāt thought highly inappropriate things about the man- something about his simplicity and your need to please him. He lowered himself over you, resting his weight onto you as he bit at your lips.
Low hums would rumble through him and you couldnāt help but think he was purring. He perched onto his forearms, and shifted closer; you gasped when you felt the tip of his cock against your entrance, and choked out a cry when it entered you without warning.
There was no sweetness. It was blunt, and clear as day.
Rorschach rested his head into your neck as he hunkered over you and pushed forward, then drew back; fucking himself into you. You were no virgin, but you might as well have been. It only took two brutal thrusts before his hips were flush with yours and you were clinging to him pathetically.
You whimpered in his ear at the stretch of him so deep inside you. You couldnāt help but squirm slightly in an attempt to get used to him. Rorschach brought a hand to rest at the nape of your neck to keep you still as he drew out of you again then snapped back into you, making your body bounce under him. It was as if he was testing youā¦or perhaps testing himself.
Then you felt a puff of his hot breath as he quickened his pace, taking full advantage of how soaked you were for him. You could feel him throb inside you, and you suddenly remembered that he was only a manā¦a much older man who was rutting inside you like he owned you. The thought alone had you moan into his shoulder as his fat tip dragged against your insides and bruised your cervix. You rolled your hips with him, gasping at how hard he gripped your hip and neck.
He was possessive and harsh in his need for you. Like a man who had been starved and you were his first meal.
And he would devour you.
You felt his pace pick up and his thrusts turned harder and sloppier. He locked his arms around your shoulders to keep you still as he bruised your pelvis. Your back arched and hips met his in a need to feel every inch of him. You hooked your legs behind him to bring him closer. You could feel him huff into your neck, a rumble in his chest.
āI-inside me- pleaseā¦ā you managed to croak out, though you doubted he would listen to any request that he didnāt like at that point. He was going to make you his in every sense, and that meant filling you with his cum.
Rorschach growled deep into your shoulder and bit into your flesh. You felt him pulse inside you, then a warmth spread inside your navel as he emptied his cum into you. It had a comfort to it that made you cling to him, nuzzling your face into his strong shoulder. Ragged breaths were in your ear as he hammered into you a few more times like he was proving a point. Making sure you knew that you were his nowā¦his secret.
You panted with him, and clenched reflexively as he began to pull out. You already missed the warmth he brought you. His shoulders were visibly more relaxed as he moved to lay beside you, and you slowly grasped his jaw and brushed your lips against his, which he returned ever harder. You pulled away, and you liked that he hummed when you did.
The man beside you leaned up onto his arm to stare down at you thoughtfully. As if he was trying to read something on you. Your skin flushed with warmth under his scrutiny, and you couldnāt find it in yourself to tell him that you didnāt cum.
When you moved your hand down between your legs where his cum now leaked from you, you twitched. Every inch of your skin was hypersensitive and when you touched your clit you almost flinched at the contact. All of which instantly drew the attention of the man beside you. He stared at you intently- a deep line between his red brows.
āWhat are you doing?ā He asked.
His scrutiny was jarring, though you noticed it wasnāt judgementalā¦it was studious. Curious. You looked away from him, and felt very naked under his gaze, afraid he might ridicule you for something like that. It wouldnāt be the first time you had gone to take care of yourself and a man had almost laughed in your face.
āIāmā¦I didnāt umā¦ā you tried, but he watched you so closely, and felt as if he was studying you.
He was.
Then he understood. His eyes widened ever so slightly.
āOhā¦ā he rasped, looking down where your hand had been. You bit your thumb nail as you waited to see what he would do or say. You liked this man more than you would care to admit, but you knew men could be selfishā¦and uncaringā¦and mean. Hell, you had never had anyone make you cum besides yourself, and your expectations were not-
Your thoughts were halted when you felt the warmth of his calloused hand on yours. You watched as he very simply took your hand from your mouth, and returned it to between your thighs, and looked back at you expectantly. At first it felt like a slap in the face, as if he was telling you to take care of yourselfā¦but with how intensely he was gazing at you, you realised he was examining your every move. You moved your fingers and he regarded them carefully. Like it mattered greatly to him.
The older man committed everything to memory; when you petted, when you were gentle, when you moaned, when you pressed harder, when you stroked, when you arched your back, when your hand started to shake, when your brows pitched up, when you slipped your fingers inside yourself.
You found yourself unable to look away from him even as your eyes drooped and your mouth dropped open in a permanent sigh. Your breaths were coming in little gasps, and you didnāt even notice he was just as effected as you- his chest heaving as he took deep, controlled breaths.
You slowly pumped your fingers inside yourself, stroking your g-spot; then gasped out a soft whine at the contact on your sensitive flesh, at which point Rorschach deemed to be enough watching for his liking. He snatched your little hand and replaced it with his own far larger and rougher hand.
You gasped when he touched you so accuratelyā¦but this time you gasped for him.
He leaned over you, his lips just a breath away as if to breathe in your whines and pleas. Watching what he did to you.
His thumb drew small, feathery circles around your clit; alternating between direct but tentative touch, and agonizingly slow strokes that didnāt quite touch it. You began to pant, and your hands found his strong shoulders- hanging on like a lifeline. The older man hummed, and looked away from you for a moment to watch what he was doing, how slick his hand had become as a result. Once he had your hips rolling up into his palm, he eased a finger inside you, although his was noticeably longer and thicker than yours.
You gasped at the sensation.
āI-if you- ah! Can you move l-like this?ā You showed him how to curl his finger inside you and he instantly followed your instruction, and even added a second finger; you cried pathetically as you surrendered to his mercy.
He stroked your inner walls for a new moments until he found what he was looking for. Once he made contact with that hypersensitive patch inside you, you let out a gasped moan that you tried to cover with your hand, but Rorschach was having none of that. His free hand that had cradled your head smacked your hand away and didnāt even pause his ministrations. This was just as much for him as it was for you. He wanted to know everything he did to you.
You whined softly against his mouth.
The movement of your hips began to be more deliberate as your body chased its craving. As if catching onto what you needed, he focused on that spot inside of you, and you let a series of moans slip from your mouth. Your pelvis bucked up into his touch, and you could have sworn that amongst the focused breathing and studious stare, you saw that man smirk.
Smirk.
He huffed out a ragged sound that must have been a laugh.
He continued to watch you, and you found yourself lost in the feeling of him and the sight of his eyes staring down at you like you were the most important thing at that moment.
Like there was nothing he would rather be staring at.
It took only a few more moments of his careful ministrations before you were falling apart in his arms. Your back arched up off the bed as you gripped his fingers like a vice inside you, and he continued his strokes, though he slowed them considerably.
The steady drag of his fingers inside you set your veins on fire. There was a mess of your and his cum between your thighs,and he used the saturated slickness to lazily finger you; carrying you through your high.
As you eyes refocused and unglazed, you stared back at him, and caught his lips with yours. He eagerly returned your needy kiss, and very gently removed his hand from your cunt.
You lacked proper judgement and acted purely on what you wanted; with his hand resting on your penvis, soaked and sticky, you took his wrist in your hand. You didnāt want to know how much blood had been shed because of those hands, not in that moment to be specific, but what you did know was that he had you wrapped around those fingers tight. You lifted them to your lips licked the slickness off of them, cleaning him. You flicked your eyes up to his, and weāre startled be how close he had moved. He hummed low in his chest when your tongue slowly lapped at them to clean him.
He drew his hand away from you, kissed you; holding you jaw surprisingly gently as if you didnāt have the shape of his hands bruising your hips or an ache deep inside you.
Your head felt light and disconnected.
Rorschach pulled away after a moment, and propped his head onto his hand to watch you. He gingerly traced your face shape with his finger, as if mapping and memorizing you. Touching your eyebrows, the ridge of your nose, your cheekbones.
He was lost in his own little world.
āI like the way you sound when you cum.ā He said so a-matter-of-fact.
Your cheeks went rosy and warm. You didnāt know if you should thank him, so you grinned sweetly.
There was something in him that made it compelling to watch him. Something drawing you in as he stared back with such fixation. You didnāt know how to look away.
Not until your eyelids drooped and exhaustion took you. You didnāt know when you fell asleep, but you did know that when you awoke, your blanket was laid over you, your hair was out of your face, and you had a pair of crystal blue eyes staring back at you. Rorschach looked to have not moved an inch since you had fallen asleep. His head still propped in his hand, watching.
āDid you sleep?ā You asked, rolling closer to him; your head and body consumed by your pillows and blankets.
He shook his head.
āYou do you ever sleep?ā You flicked your eyes across his face.
And he shook his head again.
You placed your hand on his cheek. His face didnāt soften- it never did, you noted. But regardless, his attention was on you entirely; you stared at him like he did you, then smiled gently at him.
āThank you for trusting me.ā You whispered, and he clearly hadnāt expected such a thing.
Again, he didnāt move from his place, but you noted the twitch in his brow, and small smirk that sat in the corner of his mouth. Perhaps he thought you foolish, but you didnāt care.
You pressed a kiss to his lips, and pulled away quickly even when he chased you. A displeased huff escaped him, but you eased it away when you gently hitched your leg over him. He grabbed your waist as if anticipating something volatile, but when you leaned over him, your chest against his, he seemed to pause mentally. You nestled your hips against his, your thighs on either side. With nothing between you, the feeling of his hardening cock against your lips was evident. The older manās warmth radiated into you. You felt his fingers start to dig into your hips where he gripped you, squeezing the flesh as if he was about to lift you off. But then, you rolled your hips against him, sliding along his shaft easily given how slick you were already. He stopped all trains of thought he had for a moment when the sensation registered in his nerve-endings.
His gaze continued to make you self-conscious, but you wouldnāt shy away from him now.
You repeated the motion again, and felt him twitch and harden under you; you gasped when his hands held you firmer. You enjoyed the feeling of his cock under you, and your eyes began to glaze over when you felt the swollen tip catch your entrance, slipping inside you without warning. The soreness you felt from the night before didnāt stop you though. You watched him carefully, and while his stare was intense and focused, there was no unease or resistance.
Your cheeks flushed and you couldnāt help but stutter, āI-is this okay?ā To the nearly silent man.
Again, he didnāt say a word. Instead, he gripped your hips tighter and bucked more of him into you.
You took that as a yes.
Encouraged by his action, you rolled your hips on him a few more times to get more of him inside you; a whimper and a gasp escaped you as he filled you so completely- the stretch painful but addictive. Your slower pace appeared to bother him and he ground you down onto him to get his cock fully inside you. The force made you breathe out another gasp; your hands found their place on his muscled chest to steady yourself.
With you both satisfied with being locked together, you slowly bucked your hips, drawing him in and out of you. You felt his grip grow more possessive, almost pawing at you as he held you.
You started slow, and deliberate; angling your hips to have his cock drag against your g-spot. At the first contact, your tempo stuttered, and your choked on a moan. He seemed to find your pleasure amusing as he hummed and began to meet your thrusts. He seemed to understand what to feel for after a moment when he stroked that sensitive patch, and you noted that he was very particular about hitting it.
Then you started to notice just how much pleasure he was receiving when his lips parted and the tendons in his neck began tighten.
Each time you came down on his shaft, you felt him reciprocate the movement- grinding up into you. It was as if he knew exactly what to feel for that made your toes curl.
You could barely hold a thought in your head as you felt fire brew in your veins and a tightness in your pelvic muscles.
You tilted your head back, and your arms that were braced on his chest buckled; bringing you closer to him. Your head fell back down and your eyes locked onto his- pupils blown. There was a new intensity to his face, a determination.
Then, as if he had had enough of you in charge, the man suddenly gripped you waist and flipped you onto your back. He crawled over you, and slipped his cock back inside you, earning him a whine and gasp from your sweet throat. He found a rhythm identical to the one you had set atop him, and your lips parted when you felt him angle his hips to target that spot inside you; the intense drag of his cock hitting it each time. He rendered you speechless in seconds.
After mewling and huffing out breaths, you finally managed to find a couple words.
āH-harderā¦ā you forced out, āPle-ase.ā You pleaded.
It seemed he was intent to oblige. The gradual roll of his pelvis escalated into a harsher snap of his hips that had him watching you with rapt interest when you cried out.
Out of habit from your past, your hand flew to your mouth just like it had the night before, but just like then, he grabbed your wrist and pinned it beside your head without a moments thought. You felt scrutinized and your cheeks began to heat up so much you felt the warmth spread down your neck.
He wanted to know exactly what he did to you.
And that thought alone forced your body to clench and melt for him simultaneously.
With his careful ministrations, your orgasm grew quickly- an overwhelming amount of pleasure spawning inside you that you hadnāt felt before. Just as you had asked, he kept his pace steady and firm. His desire to know how to play you as he liked made your brain go dizzy with need, and you were intent to follow his wishes. While it made you flush even more to tell him what you needed, you swallowed your pride and forced another pathetic whimper from you. āSlowerā¦please.ā You breathed.
At your request, he leaned down over you more, his chest almost flush with yours. He kept your one hand pinned while he used his other hand to pull your thigh up and pushed your knee to your chest.
The change had your eyes rolling back, and you heard him hum; vibrations from his chest buzzing into yours making your fingertips tingle.
It took all of ten seconds before your thighs shook and you desperately rolled your hips up to meet his. He watched as your brows pitched up and your swollen lips parted. Your face flushed in ecstasy.
Rorschach could feel you tense around his cock, and smirked to himself when he felt a rush the of your cum soaking him inside you. You nearly sobbed. Eyes glassy and back arching as you came.
The older man slowed his pace, until eventually stopping all together, but only for a moment. He leaned his nose down into the crook of your neck, and inhaled softly. His grip still possessive; it made you shiver.
Then, just as you settled, he snapped his hips once, forcing his cock back into your tightened heat and he pulled away from your neck to stare you down- nose bumping against yours. You cried out from the impact and looked up at him. He had your attention now. And he began to fuck into you steadily again, but growing in need.
His message was clear.
āIām not done with you yet.ā
And he certainly was not.
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I'm only just catching up on the rewatch I've been running now (I needed a breather after tagging 2x08, and it kind of got away from me with the Christmas blues and everything), so new thoughts on 2x09:
* Watching the scenes where Reade was trapped, knowing how 4x22-5x01 turns out, was really hard. I think Reade's conversation with Nas, about how he'd been in this whole Sandstorm thing since Jane crawled out of the bag, and teams living and dying for each other, like they're supposed to, and that she should get back to making noise because he was actually starting to get used to it - that's one of my favourite Reade moments. (It was also nice to see Nas knocked off her perch and actually doubting herself, for once. I mean, I don't hate Nas like, *ahem*, some of us do, but she did need that.)
* Zapata's commenting on 'this whole Weller and Nas thing' and Reade's complete refusal to even entertain the topic of conversation is ALL of us. But especially since it came just after 2x08.
* Every time I watch this episode, I always think Jane's NOOOO! is right by the end, but obviously it's only halfway through. It was great to see the team working so hard to rescue each other in the aftermath of the explosion, and frantically worrying about each other, and Kurt screaming for Jane because that's what he does (you know I love it), right after he was screaming for Nas, who he knew was actually there, and instead of yelling for Reade or Zapata. XD
* Patty deserves all the cuddles and hair-strokes.
* I still think of Borden's little 'this wasn't what I wanted' way too much in my everyday life. We've all had that moment. Most of us just did far less douchey things to get there.
* Everyone already knows I wish Borden hadn't been the mole. But WHY, GERO, WHY? ššš
* I also love Reade and Zapata's FRIENDSHIP a lot. š
* I absolutely love and hate the way Michelle Hurd chose to portray Shepherd. She's almost childlike at times in her body language, leaning on the back of Jane's chair, hissing in her ear, and then that 'turns out, he was wrong' is almost comedic. I really do think the Lake Aurora chemicals helped to make her batshit. But then she turns on the guilt trips so damn easily, too. *shudder* And using the 'kill your rabbit' analogy on Roman was just plain mean.
* I made a post about Roman and the ZIP during 2x09 week, so I'll leave that there.
* It always feels like Patterson is with the team during the big, dramatic scenes, even though she rarely is out in the field. The writers (and Ashley) are great with that.
* You guys already know I have an insane love for Remi, but damn, if she tried to recruit me to her scary mum's terrorist organisation, I'd go too. I wonder how much of Jaimie's own emotions went into her delivery of the 'my country has lost its mind' line, because let's not forget it was filmed one year into the Trump presidency... Also, I need to apply 'there is always something you can do' to everyday life more.
* Also, to anyone who thinks my pre-Jane Remi is softer than canon, please see the scene where Remi tries to struggle out of bed to save two strangers she doesn't know from the dangers of being associated with her, a few seconds after regaining consciousness from near death. She doesn't know where she is or what country she's in, but she needs to get away, so these two British people's lives aren't put at risk for the kindness of saving her life. Would that woman knowingly agree to a plan where everyone and their kids, dog and elderly aunt got nuked?
* Hi, intelligence services who are undoubtedly checking my blog for terror information right now. I'm fangirling about a TV show, not planning Phase Two. XD
Time to watch 2x10!
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This meta is getting long so Iāll continue under the dot-dot-dot:
So @bellahadar said in a series of comment bubbles:
āIn fact - it didn'tš¢š¢ššš I mean, you are right indeed, and you are not((( Ā They were ment to be together, and he was 100% devoted to her, so it was her turn to choose - and she made all the wrong choises... Imagine Jorah fighting not only for his queen, but for his wife, and for their future children!
Fighting for his queen - he had a reason to die gloriously, protecting her. Fighting for his lover, for his wife - he would have a reason to survive, to live happily, protecting her. Choosing Jorah - Dany would give a chanse to the new world, because she would never let herself Ā do in his presence, what she's done after his death.
And after Jorah's death, without him - Dany lost her major support, her strength, her core... I mean, she strove for the throne, not letting herself to love Jorah (though she DID love him), because he is low-born for her, and not a powerfull ally, and marriage with him doesn't bring her closer to the throne (she thought).
While all she had to do Ā - was to love Jorah after his return, and this would solve a bunch of problems and finally help her to become a queen she wanted to become, when she was a young girl, dreaming of a better world... Don't you think so @clarasimone @houseofthebear ?ā
I tend to agree @bellahadar.... in as much as we can ascribe actual psychology to the character of Daenerys, a hard task given that 1) we were not always given access to her interiority or her psyche (rewatching GoT, itās so clear to me now that D+D thought they needed to do this in order to surprise us with the finality of their heroine - I think they were mistaken but...) and 2) her character arc suffers from incoherences, one of which is having her say in her last season in Essos that she wants to break the wheel and the following season have her say she still wants to sit on that throne (and therefore perpetuate the feudal system). So weāre left trying to make sense of her and filling holes in her arc. But indeed, if she had learned to love (her brother screwed her up real good on that front), if she had used sex/love for goals other than political (Drogo, Jon), or if she had not separated sex from love (Daario), if she had been able to love herself by loving the right man for her (Jorah), her destiny and that of Jorah would have been very different.
Iām impressed by your observation that Jorah died for his Queen because thatās the ultimate and the only way a Knight (trapped in courtly love) can prove his worth and love (Iām paraphrasing you) but had they been lovers at this point, he quite possibly would have fought in such a way that he would have survived because there would have been more at stake. But since his Queen never reciprocated and he had come to accept this, then of course, his death, his ultimate sacrifice was inescapable. Jorah is one of the few characters on GoT whose arc actually makes sense, given the cards he was handed.
One thing Iād like to add, which I observed on my second viewing and again recently, is the notion that Jorah quite possibly idealized Daenerys. Itās very striking when you rewatch GoT how he is almost never there when she goes all out: he doesnāt see her rally the Dothraki in the desert (her shouting speech is chilling in that scene), he doesnāt see her burn the fleet in the port of Mereen, he doesnāt see her burn the Tarly men.... He does get to see her threatening the 13 in front of Qaarth and he does see her burn the slave master from whom she takes Missandei but these show of violence and power are tamed when compared to what she does when he is not there. What he does see of her is magical and sublime: she is reborn twice from the flames, she gives birth to dragons, she is worshipped by those she frees (Mysa). When he tells her that she has a gentle heart, she rebuffs that she doesnāt. He insists and we want to believe heās right but the truth is, Jorah never sees the extremes Dany is capable of. Extremes she quite possibly would not have had to go to, or would not have left herself go to, had Jorah been by her side. And her lover.
Or not ;-) Maybe Jorah would have gone to hell, not only for her, but with her, had she manipulated him.... But weāll never know. And itās certainly not the scenario I like to imagine for them.
My end game has always been that Dany breaks the wheel, after which she relinquishes the governing of Westeros to Westeroses in a new political system, and then leaves with Jorah to live happily ever either on Bear Island or, more logically, back in Essos... but all of this came about because of IGās characterization and, ultimately, was impossible to honor given that GoTās endgame had to be based on the novelistās vision, and in that vision/version of GoT, Jorah is and remains a secondary character :-(
I prefer what our imagination conjured and continues to conjure up for Dany with ShowJorah :-)
Iain Glen, healing shaman :-))))))))))))
I fight and die for your glory, oh glorious Queen.
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