#why do I always seem to have problems with my boiler

[biking-around-the-world]

Be independent they said. Live your life they said.

Ok but where are my mom and dad when I come back home and don’t have hot water and need to call people to get it fixed?

[megalony]

Too Stimulating

This is an Evan Buckley imagine, based on a few anon requests and is my first imagine writing neurodivergent reader. I hope you will all like it, feedback is always appreciated.

Taglist: @justagirlthatlovedtoread@musicistheway@avada-kedavra-bitch-187@luula@missdreamofendless@bradleybeachbabe@woderfulkawaii@amberpanda99@daggersquadphantom@marvel-and-chicago-fan@angryknightstatesmantrash@minjix@lyjen@kmc1989@itsmytimetoodream@noonenuts@hiireadstuff@ashie-babie@classyunknownlover@jayyeahthatsme@sp1ritssz@dumb-fawkin-bitch@oliverstarksbae@gimatida@heart-35@supernaturalstilinski@stefansalvatoresgf@kyky9103@wutheringhearts2275@gay4hotmilfs@itshamleth@chaoticnosleepinfluencer@gs29@wh0reforsmutstuff@mel-vaz@natashamea18@chrisevansdaughter @alexandra8484 @deena-beena-weena@targaryenluvs @shelbygeek @kpoplover-19@marvelmenarebeautiful@gillybear17 @zoeybennett

Evan Buckley Masterlist

Summary: When Buck finds his girlfriend in the middle of a car crash, he helps her through a meltdown when everything gets too overwhelming. (autistic reader)

Enjoy.

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"Can't sleep?"

Evan didn't bother to open his eyes. He inched himself closer until his chest was almost touching (Y/n)'s back. His arm was already draped loosely around her waist with his hand on her lower chest and his thumb dragging up and down her bare skin.

He knew drawing patterns or doing something as simple as gliding his thumb across (Y/n)'s skin in a repetitive manner could help calm her down at night. He thought it would have done the opposite at first, that it would have given (Y/n) something to focus on and keep her awake. But instead, the touch calmed her down and stopped her mind from hyper-focusing on different things.

She had much more sensitive hearing than Evan. (Y/n) could hear the lightest drizzle of rain tapping on the bedroom window. She could hear the boiler clicking on during the night or the A/C buzzing in the background. Little noises stole her attention and kept her awake.

But Evan couldn't hear anything tonight, he couldn't hear any little sound that might be keeping (Y/n) awake. Meaning it was something else gnawing at her mind, preventing her from shutting down.

"Sorry," (Y/n) muttered into the pillow while she moved her hand down to hold Evan's wrist that was looped over her waist.

"Why, what's up, baby?"

Evan kissed the back of (Y/n)'s head and moved to glide his hand up and down her chest rather than just his thumb.

It was normal for Evan to feel (Y/n) fidgeting during the night. He could tell precisely when she fell asleep- if she fell asleep before him- because she suddenly went still. While she was awake, Evan felt her toes curling and her foot twitching back and forth in bed. It was like she had nervous tension and her muscles were tightening. (Y/n) didn't know she was doing it most of the time, it was either or foot or her leg that started to move and she had to always be moving. Constantly.

She would toss and turn to get comfy, sometimes Evan realised she was humming and she didn't know it. Or she had one hand beneath the pillow and started tapping the headboard.

"Don't know," (Y/n) didn't know what the problem was, she just couldn't seem to get settled.

"Got an idea?"

She could hear the gruff tone to Evan's voice that was laced with sleep and it made her stomach flutter with adrenaline. He knew her like the back of his hand. And when (Y/n) didn't answer, she felt Evan chuckle into her hair and she all but whimpered when his hand left her skin.

He reached out and skimmed his fingers along the edge of the bedside table until he found (Y/n)'s phone. He murmured "Make a note," into her hair and held her phone out to her.

They both knew that if (Y/n) put the lamp on and tried to write down her idea, she wouldn't be happy in the morning. She would want to stay awake right now and write out a more detailed plan of whatever idea she had gotten, whether it was for something to create or something to write. And if she made a rough, sketchy note in a notebook and realised in the morning that it looked horrid and rushed, (Y/n) would either stop using the notebook altogether or rip the page out.

Whereas if she jotted down the note in her phone, it wouldn't look sketchy or scruffy and typos didn't matter in a little word document.

Evan wasn't bothered by the dim light of her phone; after ten o'clock at night, her phone automatically went on night mode where the brightness turned down and the colour changed to a damp shade of yellow. The background colour was yellow to try and ease her mind and help her settle. (Y/n) wasn't sure if it worked or not but she was too used to it now to dare turn it off.

When the brightness suddenly disappeared, Evan presumed (Y/n) had finished whatever note she had written down, but he knew the idea would still be floating around in her head.

"Alright baby, spin round for me."

"Hm?"

A squeak bubbled past (Y/n)'s lips when Evan hooked his arm around her waist and rolled her over while he inched backwards. He turned her until she was laid on her left side so she was facing him and he pressed a wet kiss to her temple.

"Doodle, send us both to sleep, baby." Evan spoke against her temple and dragged his hand up and down her back. He made sure there was an air of space between them so (Y/n) could start to doodle.

Evan had a variety of tattoos and (Y/n) loved each and every one of them, but what she loved even more was to trace them with her fingertips. She loved going over the lines like she was drawing them herself. It grounded her and gave her something to focus on and a lot of the time, it took so much of (Y/n)'s attention that she forgot where she was or what she was doing. And at night, it soothed (Y/n) enough for her to drift off to sleep.

When she was having a meltdown, tracing his tattoos helped, especially the circular band around his right forearm. (Y/n) would trace and draw that line thousands of times to focus and ground herself back to reality.

Evan found himself smiling when (Y/n) shimmied down until her head was tucked beneath his chin and her lips merged with his collar bone. He continued to glide his hand up and down her back while he felt (Y/n)'s fingertip trace the line of cursive writing just beneath his collar bone near his shoulder.

Her eyes had adjusted to the dark enough to see the ink littering Evan's skin and she was almost annoyed that she couldn't properly see the little bird outlined on his other shoulder. She liked tracing that one, but Evan was laid on his right shoulder.

(Y/n) settled for the writing, it was much easier to focus on and if she felt like she didn't draw the cursive loops just right, she restarted and began again.

Evan could still feel (Y/n)'s feet tapping, but it was different this time. The muscle in the back of her thigh wasn't tightening and twitching like a wild rabbit. Her foot wasn't bashing down into the mattress and giving him a drumbeat coursing through his blood. It was just her toes continuously curling back and forth while her foot glided softly along the mattress.

It was such a soft, lulling movement that Evan had to focus to actually feel that she was still moving, and that was a good sign.

The feeling of (Y/n)'s lips on his skin made Evan shiver and the pad of her finger causing goosebumps and pins and needles in his skin made Evan smile against the top of her head.

"G'night, baby."

***

I want to go home! I want to get out the car! I want Evan!

(Y/n) could feel herself bubbling up in her seat like a pot on a stove about to boil over. There was a scream clawing its way up her chest, ready to errupt the moment one more thing set her off. Every part of her began to shake and her head bowed down with her chin tucked deep into her chest to try and see if it would make her feel any better or feel any sense of control.

One minute (Y/n) was on her way home from work and the next, she was in a crash. A speeding car flew past (Y/n)'s car in the outside lane and either couldn't break in time or wasn't paying enough attention. They crashed into another car and there wasn't enough time or space for (Y/n) to break before she collided with them.

(Y/n), along with four other cars, collided when they all tried to break and swerve out the way. And (Y/n) was relieved other people were around to call for help. She had never had to call 911 before and she knew she wouldn't be able to calm herself down enough to have a conversation that wasn't her screaming down the line.

She wanted to get out the car. She wanted to get out and leave and find someone that could help her, but she knew the rules. She remembered Evan going through what she should do if she was ever hurt in a crash.

If she was injured, it was best to stay in the car and wait for help unless the car was on fire or the situation was a dire emergency.

She was hurt.

Her chest hurt, she was sure a few ribs were fractured or broken. Her left knee has bashed into the gearbox and the dashboard had crumpled in the collision. It would take a lot of effort to wrangle her leg away from where it was boxed in and she didn't want to do that alone.

Something didn't feel right with her left wrist either but whenever (Y/n) looked down at it, she gagged and looked away. It was twice the size it should be, felt as hard as a car tyre overfilled with air and her fingers were trembling.

Her body was shaking, her nerves were going haywire and the adrenaline made it hard to focus on one thing in particular.

Heat prickled along the back of (Y/n)'s neck and flooded her skin up to her wrists. Blood didn't seem to want to circulate through to her hands that were numb and on fire from panic. When she started to get anxious, she lost the feeling in her hands and they went cold and numb, blood went to the vital organs and forgot about her hands and feet.

Coiling her arms up to her chest, (Y/n) pressed her palms forcefully against the sides of her neck and scratched her nails into the skin at the base of her head. Despite the agony that crackled through her wrist, (Y/n) continued to dig her nails into her skin and she tilted her head forward, begging herself not to scream or act out.

She had to wait for help. She had to wait. She didn't want to wait. She wanted out.

Where would she go? She was on a bridge, a motorway flooded with cars that were going to be backed up for miles. There was nowhere for (Y/n) to escape to and she wasn't sure how far she would get. She just wanted to go home and be somewhere safe. She would consider Maddie's house a safe place right now. She just wanted to be somewhere familiar with someone she was comfortable with.

But she was alone, trapped, hurt, and extremely overwhelmed.

She could smell the petrol, oil and burnt embers floating through the air, rolling into the car along with smoke that had been building up gradually since the moment they all crashed. And (Y/n) could feel her body trembling back and forth in the seat that felt cold against her unusually heated skin.

(Y/n) could feel each ragged breath that bubbled past her lips. Her throat was aching, her chest was rising and falling rapidly and her heart was beating wildly out of her chest.

When she realised she was focusing and counting each breath, her eyes snapped closed and her arms pinned over her ears. But that just made it worse. She could now hear each breath she took as if her ears had popped the wrong way and she had been submerged underwater.

A horrid, choking scream flew past (Y/n)'s lips before she dropped her arms and slammed her body back into the chair. Her head hit the headrest and bounced back with such force that it seemed to shake her brain and her eyes lost focus for a second or two.

Reaching her right hand out, (Y/n) curled her fingers into a fist and slammed her knuckles against the roof, but it didn't make an impact. All it did was make a dent in the padded roof and it seemed to infuriate (Y/n) even more.

Her hand moved down slightly and she bashed her fist into the top of the door, earning a successful jolt that shivered all the way down to her elbow and up to her shoulder. The top of the door was made of metal. Another scream vibrated past her lips along with a howling sob as tears fell down her face like acid rain and her hand battered against the door as fast and harshly as she could.

Why couldn't everyone else just be quiet?

Why did they have to scream? Why did they have to stomp their feet against the concrete like ogres breaking through the ground? Why was someone's car horn blaring out, why hadn't they turned it off already? Was the sirens she heard the sound of an ambulance, the sound of a fire truck or the noise a police car made?

Everyone needed to be quiet so (Y/n) could focus. She was going to get herself out this car if everyone continued to overwhelm her.

It was like rage bubbling up inside of her, desperate to be let out in any way she could. It was worse than when the tv froze and she couldn't finish watching a movie she was desperate to see. This was worse than being in a stranger's home and wanting to go back to her safe space. This was so much worse than being in a crowded restaurant with too many people and no means of escape.

This was worse than just a simple pain that (Y/n) couldn't control or deflect. She couldn't take all the pain away by hurting herself in another area. She couldn't smash her forehead against the wall or chomp down on her hand or punch the wardrobe and deflect the agony she felt.

Deflecting the pain didn't stop all the noises or the horrid smells or take her out of the car that felt like she was stuffed into a cramped little box she couldn't escape from.

Deflecting did nothing to take her out of this situation and it didn't alert anyone that she needed help. But it gave (Y/n) something to do, something to focus on and a sense of pain that showed herself she had some sense of control and the pain in her mind and deep within her bones was now exuded somewhere else in her body.

"I want out!"

***

"Buck, get me the jaws!"

"Copy." Evan hollered back while he pushed his helmet further back on his head and turned around. He placed his hand on the young man's shoulder who was standing in front of him and silently pointed him towards Hen who would take him to the paramedics waiting on standby.

Evan turned away from the now empty car and once the driver was safely with Hen, he moved in the direction of the truck that was parked on the hard shoulder. He didn't get more than three feet before he noticed something familiar.

(Y/n)'s car. That was her car; her number plate. She was involved in this mess.

His hands reached out and clamped down on Chimney's shoulders before the medic had chance to turn in the other direction or take another breath. "Get Cap the jaws." Evan hissed in his ear and gave him a nudge towards the truck before he weaved around him and bolted.

He couldn't help Bobby get someone out of the pick up truck that was wedged into the middle railing. He had to go and get his girlfriend out.

Evan could see the car jolting to one side before he got near it. (Y/n) was moving about inside, she was definitely doing something. He rounded the side of the car and planted his left hand down on the roof so he could lean over and look through the window.

As quickly as anything, Evan curled his hand around the door handle and wrenched the door open. He stumbled backwards when (Y/n) leaned along with the door she had just been pummelling her fist into.

"Baby- baby, it's me." He tore off his gloves and tossed them down on the floor while he crouched down beside the car.

He cringed, bracing his hands on either side of the door when (Y/n) screamed. It wasn't the kind of screaming Evan was used to. She didn't usually scream so raw and violently like that even when he witnessed her having a meltdown. He hadn't seen this kind of extreme meltdown in a while.

His eyes managed to catch a glimpse of (Y/n)'s right hand that had been smashing into the door before he opened it. Her knuckles were starting to swell. They were split open, splattered with dried and fresh blood and her whole hand was shaking.

"Baby-"

Whatever he was about to say got cut off by another scream. This time, it was a deeper, more guttural scream before (Y/n) slammed her head forward into the steering wheel.

Evan jolted back on the heel of his boots as he felt his stomach tightening and his lips clamped together.

She hadn't done that in a while.

When she did it a second time, Evan leaned over with his left hand on the back of her chair. He pressed the back of his right hand against the steering wheel and braced himself, waiting for her to do it again. He could see the surprise blister across her face when she smashed her head forward and collided with his palm instead.

Her eyes were closed. She hadn't expected Evan to do that. He'd done it before; when she started to hit the wall and bash her temple into the wall, Evan put his hand in the way. He would much rather have (Y/n) let out her frustrations this way where she caused less pain and harm to herself.

Evan boxed and trained at the gym and in his line of work, a sore hand and a few bruised knuckles was nothing to him.

After a few seconds ticked by, Evan dared to rest his other hand on her shoulder and see if she would be alright with his touch or not. She didn't shy away and she didn't scream; he took that as a good sign.

"Baby, can I get you out the car, please? I'll see if you're hurt, then I can get you out of here."

He kept his hand on the steering wheel as a precaution but he was fairly sure (Y/n) had stopped hitting his hand now. She was breathing so harshly he worried her heart was going to give out, it sounded like she had burst a lung. Her lips were dry and chapped, her throat was tense and raw and her chest was violently heaving to try and catch back her lost oxygen.

Evan gently reached out for her hands and uncurled them from the steering wheel so he could rest them on his thighs and take a look.

Her right hand was battered, but he was sure she hadn't damaged or broken her knuckles. Her left hand, however, looked like her wrist had been fractured.

He glided his fingertips slowly up her arms, taking his time so he didn't overwhelm her. When he tried to touch and assess her chest, she whimpered and pushed back in the seat. And when he trailed his hands down her legs, he realised why she was so distraught. Her left leg was wedged under the steering wheel where the bonnet had crumpled down on her leg.

"Let's get you sorted out." He trailed his hands over to her left leg and tried to assess whether she had busted up heer knee or broken any bones.

He didn't want to leave (Y/n) and he didn't want to ask someone to bring him a pair of jaws to cut through the bonnet. (Y/n) was distressed enough. He slammed his hand up into the bonnet to try and dent it enough to wiggle (Y/n)'s leg free. And he reached down to shuffle her chair back to see if that would make a difference.

If he had a few more seconds, just another minute, and Evan would have loosened the bonnet enough to get her leg free without any pain or aggravation.

A blaring siren caught them both off guard.

Evan cringed; he recognised the sound. It was a police car turning up and knowing their luck, it might even be Athena. But the noise was distinct and loud and it cut right through them both.

(Y/n)'s ears were finely tuned and direct, high pitch noises physically hurt her. The siren was no exception. As soon as it started to blare, (Y/n) jumped back in her seat and screamed.

Evan wasn't sure whether she meant to drag and lift her leg up or whether it was out of instinct. Either way, (Y/n)'s upper thigh cut against the broken plastic and chunks of metal in the bonnet and her leg was prized free. Blood splattered down her thigh but she didn't care. She could barely feel the new sensation over the ringing in her ears and the pain that was pulsing through every inch of her skin.

Terror ransacked (Y/n)'s body and she flung herself to the right, scrambling onto her hands and knees on the floor. Partially landing on Evan's thigh, sending him down on his backside, not that he cared.

She wasn't sure where she was trying to go. All (Y/n) knew was that she needed to get out of that car and get away from all the noises, but being out in the open only made it worse.

She could hear raised voices; people directing others away from the cars, telling them where the paramedics were. A strong voice cutting through the air asking for assistance. Sirens wailing in three different tones from three different vehicles. Crying. Harsh breathing. Loud footsteps made with the same heels as Evan's work boots.

Five feet away from the car left (Y/n) hobbling in the middle of the road and she didn't know which direction to go or whereabouts she needed to move to. Every angle was blocked. There was no escape. She couldn't leave. She wasn't safe.

Her weight dropped down until she was knelt on the tarmac that cut through her knees like blistering hot coals digging into her skin. The heel of her shoes dug into her bum and her stomach clenched as she coiled over on herself.

Her body began to rock back and forth while her chin smashed down into her chest and her hands smothered her face. Every breath fanned against her palms and made her lips hot and sweaty like they were melting and it made (Y/n) scream.

"Shh, alright baby, it's okay." As quick as anything, Evan shed his jacket and scrambled over towards (Y/n). He stayed on his knees in front of her and reached his arms out for her.

He pinned his elbows into her sides, pressed their knees together and curled his palms over her ears. He tucked his chest into his thighs and merged their temples together so she could see him and hear his voice over the loudness of the rest of the world.

"You're okay. You're with me, baby girl and you're safe. Just focus on me, nothing else."

He repeated those words over and over like a mantra until his voice drowned out everything else and (Y/n) stopped screaming. He felt her rock back and forth but with him knelt in front of her, he couldn't move along with her without accidentally headbutting her in the process.

So he slowly let go of her and wrapped an arm around her waist so he could shimmy her over to him.

(Y/n) stayed loose and moveable, allowing Evan to pull her onto his lap so her back was pressed into his chest.

"Help." Was the only word (Y/n) could manage and she squeezed Evan's wrists and tugged until he realised what she wanted. She didn't have to voice it for Evan to understand; it was one of the things she loved about him.

She could feel his lips smothering the top of her head and his hands went straight back to covering her ears. He breathed into her hair and started to hum while his elbows dug into her sides and he felt (Y/n) reach up to keep hold of his wrists. She was trying to ground herself to him. Sitting on his lap wasn't enough, she had to hold onto him to know he was still here, keeping her safe.

Her breathing started to become deeper rather than shallow or breathless screams.

She snapped her eyes closed and pushed back into Evan's chest so she didn't slide off his lap as he began rocking them back and forth. It was as if they were sat together in a rocking chair in the middle of the blocked-off road.

"There we go, that's my girl, hm? You're okay, you're safe."

Evan continued to rock back and forth. He'd never done anything like this before he met (Y/n), but whenever she shut down like this, she dropped to the floor. She would curl up as small as she could or sit or kneel on the floor. Sometimes she looked like she was praising the carpet with how she dragged her hands along it, but he knew she had to recalibrate herself.

Now, if ever she went down to the floor, Evan would kneel down with her. He would hold her in bed and start to sway and rock back and forth. He would do all of her coping mechanisms with her so she wasn't alone and knew he was trying to help.

"Buck… how are we doing over here?" Eddie looked over at him with a mixture of perplexity and a hint of recognition in his eyes. He wasn't quite sure what was going on, but it was a somewhat familiar sight.

He didn't get too close, he could see Evan had a handle on this situation and he didn't want to get involved and make things worse or upset whoever Evan was cradling in his arms.

"Do you need the ambulance?" He pointed behind him to the 118 ambulance that Chimney had backed up. There weren't that many casualties here and dispatch had sent quite a few ambulances to the scene just to be on the safe side.

"Yeah I- I need it but you have to turn the lights off."

"What?"

"The lights are way too stimulating, it will overwhelm her. Can you turn them off, please?"

Evan had seen (Y/n) drive when ambulances had been passing. The sirens made her flinch and start to stim when she pulled over and she had to close her eyes when the lights passed.

The ambulance had flashing blue and moonlight white lights blinking on and off continuously and someone had left the lights flashing on the ambulance. They were far too stimulating and if (Y/n) looked over there she would immediately close her eyes and freeze up.

Some movies were too bright for (Y/n) to watch, especially children's films that had a blast of rainbow colours glittering the screen. Movies like those gave (Y/n) headaches and blinding lights sent her into a sensory overload. Some people could handle those sort of stimulants, some people were classed as hyposensitive where they enjoyed loud noises and bright lights and lots of people and rides and thrills.

(Y/n) was hypersensitive, she couldn't handle the noises or the lights or too many people overwhelming her or crowding round and getting in her face.

"I'll turn them off, do you need the gurney bringing out?"

"No, I'll bring her over."

Eddie sprinted off into a jog to turn the lights off while Evan dared to let go of (Y/n)'s ears and he moved his hands down her sides to hold her hips. She kept hold of his wrists and leaned her head back on his shoulder while he continued to rock them back and forth.

"Baby, we're gonna go in the ambulance and go to the emergency room, alright? I'm not gonna leave you at any point, I promise. You'll be safe with me. Can I get you up?"

The moment (Y/n) nodded, Evan gave her hips a squeeze and pulled her up with him while he slowly pushed up to his feet. He waited for (Y/n) to make the first move, to show him whether she was okay to walk ahead to the ambulance. Or whether she was in too much pain or too overwhelmed to walk.

When she turned in his arms and smothered her face in his chest, Evan could feel her panting breaths and the tremble that overtook her body. She didn't want to walk. She didn't want to move. If they stayed still for a few more seconds, Evan just knew (Y/n) would drop down to the floor again because she wasn't settled or calm or okay at all.

"Alright baby, it's alright." His hands moved to the back of her thighs and he hoisted her up in one fell swoop. He hooked her legs around his torso and moved one hand to her upper back to keep her steady against him.

(Y/n) tucked her face into Evan's neck so tightly she could barely breathe and she began kissing his neck and making popping sounds against his skin. It was an unusual stim that Evan felt interested in because he somehow liked the sensation against his neck.

He smoothed his hand up and down her back while he made a beeline for the ambulance where the lights had finally been turned off.

Once he climbed up into the ambulance, Evan carefully sat (Y/n) down on the gurney. He had a gut feeling she wouldn't lay down on it and he was right. She perched on the side of the gurney with her legs hanging over the edge and her hands clinging to the side so she didn't fall off.

She began to rock back and forth while Evan sat down on the gurney next to her and Eddie sat in front of them.

"Baby, this is Eddie, can he take a look at you?"

Eddie waited patiently until (Y/n) gave a cut nod and he held out a stethoscope so she knew what he was going to do. She stopped rocking and sat up straight. He noticed her eyes focused on his chin and he wondered whether she was staring at his jacket; she was clearly focusing on something so she didn't have to look him in the eye.

He leaned over and pressed the stethoscope to her chest and then to her back to listen to her breathing.

"Can I check your blood pressure?"

Her lips rolled together but she nodded and held out her right arm since her left wrist was swollen and shaking.

Eddie smiled softly when (Y/n) closed her eyes and leaned her head onto Evan's shoulder while Eddie slipped the cuff up her arm so it was near her shoulder. He started to squeeze the air and watched the band tighten around her arm, but his eyes kept glancing down to her hand.

She stimmed in a similar way to Chris. Eddie could see (Y/n)'s thumbs on both hands were pressed against the back of her index finger right near her knuckle. And her index fingers were curled into her palm while the rest of her fingers were left out straight. He knew it was a sensation she must feel calming but whenever Chris used to stim, he would curl his fingers in rather strange ways that would hurt anyone else. But Chris was used to it in the way he figured (Y/n) must be too.

"Do you want me to assess your leg, or you can wait for a nurse if you want." Eddie didn't want to push any boundaries.

He knew a little of (Y/n) from what Evan had told him and Eddie didn't want overwhelm her or make her feel uneasy. If she didn't want him to try and patch her up at all, he would gladly sit and hand her over to a nurse when they got to the hospital.

"Please." If Evan trusted Eddie, then (Y/n) would rather have him help her than a stranger at the hospital.

A wave of relief washed through Evan when he heard (Y/n) quietly click her tongue against the roof of her mouth. That was a stim he recognised. That was one of her usual stims that she did hundreds of times throughout the day. If (Y/n) was doing that, it meant she was starting to settle and calm down.

(Y/n) stayed as still as she could manage, despite her right foot tapping against the metal bar on the bottom of the gurney.

Her eyes watched with intrigue as Eddie got out a small pair of scissors and carefully cut through her leggings so he could rip the material and see the extent of her wound.

It wasn't too deep. A vertical gash right in the centre of her thigh that was oozing and trickling blood down across her knee and squelching beneath her on the gurney. (Y/n) sucked in a deep breath and made a quiet noise when Eddie poured some saline over the wound and started to swab and clear away the blood.

His touch was delicate and precise and he didn't even look up at her as he worked, he kept his eyes focused on her leg so (Y/n) didn't have to avoid eye contact with him. She reached out and started to draw aimless patterns on Evan's thigh to distract herself while Eddie put suture strips across the wound to tape it together. It wasn't deep enough for proper stitches so little medical tapes were enough. And he stuck a large rectangle plaster patch on her thigh to keep it clean.

"You're all done… let's get you inside, you'll need an X-ray and probably some bloods taken."

When Evan got up, he waited for (Y/n) so he knew whether to walk in front of her or behind her. She curled her right hand around Evan's bicep and tucked her face into his arm and when she closed her eyes as they got out the ambulance, Evan smiled. He moved his right hand to cup the back of her head and smothered his lips into her hair.

He felt Eddie hovering beside them and the three of them headed into the emergency room and followed a nurse who beckoned them over when she noticed the uniform.

The moment they got into the empty cubicle, (Y/n) seized up. Her body went stiff beside Evan and she clung to him tighter until she was practically meshing her face into his arm. She didn't want to sit down. She didn't want to be in here. She wanted to go home.

Two nurses walked into the room with them and closed the door to give them some privacy.

When one of them began to ask questions, (Y/n)'s name and date of birth and all her details, Evan answered. Whenever (Y/n) went to the doctors, she never usually said what was wrong or answered them. Whoever went with her to her appointments usually spoke for her and this was no exception. Evan didn't mind. He would always speak for her when she couldn't.

"If you'd like to sit down, I'll take a look at your wrist."

"No." (Y/n) shrunk back into Evan's side when the nurse tried to approach her. But when she looked to the left, she realised Eddie was still in the room. He was leant up against the wall with his arms folded over his chest. "I- please?" She gingerly moved her damaged wrist in Eddie's direction until he understood what she was asking.

She would rather have Eddie help her than someone else. He didn't ask questions. He didn't pester her. He didn't force her to maintain eye contact. He asked and waited before he assessed her and his touch was gentle. Evan trusted him, so (Y/n) would trust him.

The soft smile on Eddie's face told (Y/n) he wasn't annoyed at her request and when the nurse moved out the way, Eddie walked over to her. He didn't ask or move her towards the bed. He simply stood at her side and held her hand in his left hand so his right hand could press down her hand and over her wrist.

"I'd say it's fractured an inch below the wrist. She needs an X-ray, and if she needs a cast, you need to note in her file that she needs a removeable cast. Do not give her a pot cast."

The stern, authoritative look on Eddie's face told the nurse not to argue with him. He knew either way, whether (Y/n)'s wrist was broken or fractured, she would need a cast. And he knew a pot would drive her inside and send her into a meltdown. She wouldn't be able to take a pot cast off or move her hand or bend her wrist.

But if she had a strapped, removeable cast, they came with metal rods on either side so it would keep her wrist and arm in place. And she could take it off for an hour or so each day to get a wash or stim or get dressed. And she would be able to stim better with a foam cast.

"We'll go and get an X-ray booked, and I'll find a kit so you can take her bloods."

Surprise flooded Evan's face as he looked between (Y/n) and Eddie. The nurse was handing this over to Eddie. Clearly they could see (Y/n) wasn't going to cooperate for anyone else.

"I uh, I guess you'll have to stay with us for a while." Evan's smile was sympathetic. Bobby would allow Evan to have the rest of the day off, but he would want the team to get back in the truck and head back to the station as they were all still on shift. But Eddie had seemingly been hijacked for a while longer.

He could see in Eddie's smile that he didn't mind. He would rather stay here and make sure they were both alright than go back on shift worrying about them. And if he could be of any help to (Y/n) he would gladly stick around.

"I guess so."

[marlynnofmany]

Mechanical Rhythms

I opened the door to the engine room, ready to declare “Lunch delivery!” but the place was so loud with machinery that I decided to wait. Instead I shut the door behind me and carried the tray of sealed containers past all the viewscreens, gauges, and schematics, and into the labyrinth of passages beyond.

They call it the engine room, but really it’s a whole complex on this spaceship. And it’s not usually this loud. All the thumps, roars, and dings seemed to be at max volume somehow.

When I reached the part that was normally smooth walls and amorphous shapes, I saw why. All the covers were off. Some were retracted into the ceiling, some swung open like window shutters, and more lay cluttering up the walkway along with a chaotic spread of tools.

From somewhere among the exposed wires and pipes, a gruff voice muttered angrily.

“Hey Mimi,” I said over the whooshing noises of the pipes. “I’ve got lunch for you.”

“Thanks,” said the voice, sounding tired. And gravely. I found it amusing that our engineer sounded just like any number of crusty old mechanics back home. Mimi’s voice was balanced out by the fact that his name was Mimi, and he looked like an octopus. “Put it on top of the big toolbox, will you?” he said, sticking a tentacle out from behind something shaped like a pipe organ.

“Sure,” I said. I was pretty sure I knew which one he meant. “It’s heated but sealed, so you can get to it when you’re ready.”

“Think I’ll take a break now,” he said. “This is obnoxious and a half.” More pale green tentacles emerged, followed by his round octopus head, and Mimi clambered expertly over the mess to plop down next to the food tray.

I looked around. “What’s happening? Eggskin said you were working on something that might take a while.”

“It wasn’t supposed to,” Mimi griped as he twisted a lid off. “I was just checking for efficient fuel use, since something wasn’t firing right, and now I’ve been tracking the flipping-flailing problem all day!” He dumped something into his mouth that looked like grapes. “I had other thingzh I wuz gonna do,” he grumbled.

“Sounds annoying,” I said. “Made any progress, at least?”

“Oh sure,” he replied, pointing a tentacle over his head at the set of pipes. “Tracked the problem to that area. One of ‘em isn’t in synch with the rest, and I am not looking forward to disassembling the housing so I can figure out which.”

The pipes were a dull coppery-brown, without any of the translucence of certain other engine parts. “Yeah, I guess you can’t really see from here, huh?”

“Nope,” Mimi said, prying at another container. “If I ever meet the pebble-brain who designed this ship, I will have words for them.”

I moved closer, picking out the sounds of these engine parts over the others. Kind of a whoosh-whirr-wheet. “Can you tell anything by listening?”

Mimi spoke over a mouthful of food. “Like what?”

“You said one was out of synch. Does it make a different noise?”

With a wave of tentacles that I took to mean I doubt it, or maybe You’re welcome to try, Mimi focused on his lunch.

Well. Whyever not.

I stepped over more tools to where I could stick my face up close to the noisy things. At least this part wasn’t the loudest — that honor was reserved for the whump-screech rhythm from the boiler-looking dealie down the way. I didn’t know what any of this stuff did.

When I listened from up close, I found a surprisingly catchy beat to the noises. It reminded me of the dishwasher my parents had when I was a kid. Fond memories of dancing in front of it. I’ve always taken my small joys where I find them, and I’m pretty sure that stemmed from a good upbringing. Any family that encouraged kids to dance to dishwasher noises is one that can find fun anywhere.

I moved along the row of pipes, listening to each in turn, nodding to the beat until I found something that didn’t match.

Whoosh-whirr-wheet.

Whoosh-whirr-wheet.

Whoosh-whirr…whirr…

“It’s this one,” I said, standing back and pointing.

“What? How can you tell?” Mimi demanded.

“It dropped the beat,” I said.

“What?”

“It doesn’t match the rhythm of the others.”

Mimi scrambled over, lunch forgotten. “You can hear that?”

“Well yeah, it’s pretty obvious when you listen for it,” I said, giving him space. I watched as he clambered around, listening intently with the little ear holes in the side of his squishy head, sometimes pressing between the pipes in a way someone with solid bones could never manage. There was a reason Strongarms made good mechanics.

But apparently not all the reasons.

“I have no idea what you’re hearing,” Mimi declared, pulling back out.

“It’s this one,” I repeated. “The other ones are going whoosh-whirr-wheet, but this one gets stuck on the whirr.”

Mimi stared at me for a moment. “Stay right there,” he said, scrambling down to a bank of dials and levers. “Tell me if you hear any change. The third one, right?”

“Yeah.” I listened from close to the pipes while he adjusted things down at the bottom. Gradually, the rhythm shifted. “Oh, it’s getting better!”

“See if you can tell me when it matches,” Mimi said.

“Almost there,” I said. “It’s making the wheet noise now, just at the wrong time.” I nodded along, drumming on the air to the rhythm of the other pipes while Pipe Number Three gradually synched up. “Wait, too far,” I told Mimi. “It’s too early now.”

Muttering something indistinct, Mimi adjusted more dials.

“There! You got it!” I stood back, grinning.

“You’re sure?” Mimi asked from the console.

“Yeah, it’s a perfect match now. Ready to dance to.” I shimmied in place, appreciating the beat and not particularly caring if it wasn’t dignified.

“I’ll run the diagnostic again,” Mimi said as he tentacle-walked over to a different control panel. “If that fixed it, I will be amazed.”

I danced among the tools for the few seconds it took to run the diagnostic.

“Welp,” Mimi said. “It’s official. I’m amazed.”

“Did we fix it?” I asked, standing up with a grin.

“It appears that we did,” he said. Waving his tentacles in a baffled sort of way, he looked from me to the panel. “Thanks. You’re useful to have around.”

“And you’re welcome!” I replied. “Happy to help. Now you can finish your lunch before Eggskin starts griping about organic maintenance.”

“We can’t have that, now can we?” Mimi said. “Maybe I’ll eat somewhere quieter, and put the sound baffles back in place afterward.”

“Great idea,” I agreed. “As catchy as this music is, it’s a bit loud for lunch.”

~~~

The ongoing backstory adventures of the main character in this book. More to come!

[octuscle]

I’ve done lots of swimming and exercise in my life but I’ve never really put on any proper muscle, also doesn’t help that I look kinda baby faced. So I’ve always gotten a little jealous when I see pics of big burly bearded rugby players or like wrestlers and athletes who seem to ooze manliness, any chance you could do something to help ease my jealousy?

There are certainly worse things than having the lean and toned body of a swimmer. But I can understand you, I myself have tried for a damn long time and in vain to develop the body of a real man. But even I somehow always remained the boyish swimmer. Let's see what we can do.

In the morning, before work, you swim your usual laps in the pool. 40 lanes of 50 meters each, the normal training. But when you get out of the pool today, you are horrified. What a shitty time! You haven't been this slow in a long time. And yet you feel in top shape! It's silly, but as punishment for the bad time, you do push-ups and burpees on the edge of the pool. Fortunately, there is hardly anyone here at this time. Officially, the pool will not open before a few minutes. But as a member of the swimming club you are allowed to enter the pool earlier. The pool attendant watches you do your exercises with a grin and asks if you've been working out more for mass lately. With your body you should have problems gliding through the water. You look down at yourself. Fuck, yeah! Your pecs have definitely gained mass. As you shower, your hands glide over your body. Feels different. Better! And especially hairier. Fuck, you really need to shave. Why actually? You like to soap your fur on your chest.

Did you make a mistake in the locker? These are not your clothes… Instead of your suit, there's a wifebeater, a boiler suit and a bomber jacket. Jockstrap and white socks. Everything is not clean anymore… Heavy work boots. Yeah, right. You have to go to the construction site now. You're a plumber. Your van is parked outside the swimming pool. Hey, it must be the chlorine, you're really crazy in the head. Or maybe you're just hungry. On the way to the construction site, you quickly get yourself a couple of meatball rolls. Yes, it's only 6:30 a.m., but you need meat now. At the construction site, it's all about rugby again. The games of the last weekend. The games of the next weekend. A colleague says that as coach of the Junior team you should be harder on his son. It would be a dream of his if you could make him as much of a stud as you are.

You like the job as a coach. But as long as you can, you'd rather be on the field yourself. But before your training starts, you do a few sit-ups to warm up. You are slowly approaching the age of 40. But you still have the body of a Greek god. You pause for a moment in your workout. Your colleague's son comes out of the clubhouse and waves to you. Horny guy. Yes, you can really take him a little harder…

[mythandlaur]

Code: July Day 8 - Sissi

Yeah now I'm just flat out going out of order because I don't have the energy to fight my whims just to stay chronological and I've wanted to write this one for a bit

While rewatching this episode it struck me there wasn't actually an RTTP at the end of it everyone involved still remembers the very last take. It was almost definitely a plot hole/writer oversight/meant to happen but cut for time/implied but I just leaned back and went "well. that could've been a problem."

...

"...Elizabeth?"

Sissi grunts, screwing her eyes shut and mashing her face deeper into the pillow. Her head is pounding, her eyes sting, and all of her limbs feel like lead--she definitely slept wrong and doesn't feel like dealing with this right now. "It's Sissi," she mumbles.

"Elizabeth, it's me."

Her eyes shoot open. Oh. Oh, that's her father's voice.

What's he doing in her room?

...Why isn't this her bed?

Sissi gasps and sits up so fast she nearly bowls over her father, who'd been leaning over her. She looks around in a panic--this isn't her room at all it's the infirmary she can see Yolanda rifling through a cabinet in the back why is she--

A wave of dizziness sends her back to the bed with a groan, and she squints her eyes practically shut as the pain behind her eyes turns sharp.

Her father returns to leaning over her with that same worried, tired (he's always tired) look, and she feels him gripping her wrist. "Please, don't strain yourself."

"Wh-what am I doing here," Sissi croaks. Her throat feels raw, like she's been screaming.

"You were passed out in the boiler room," Yolanda supplies, crossing the room and sticking a cold plastic device on Sissi's finger. "Stern came to get me, and I called Mr. Delmas."

"Ulrich...?" Her heart jumps for a moment (so he did care, at least a little!) but then the memories start trickling back, posing a bigger concern. "Wait--he was there, I remember! He was...he said..." The harder she tries to think about it, the worse her head gets, and she whines quietly instead of finishing the sentence.

"...Her oxygen levels are fine, and her blood pressure's evened out." Yolanda takes the device off of Sissi's finger. "Nothing seems to be wrong. Elizabeth, dear, when was the last time you ate something?"

Sissi doesn't even think to protest the name, because now that she thinks about it...she really doesn't know. "I...the last thing I remember is getting up this morning..."

That's not entirely true--it's bits and pieces, like a half-remembered nightmare, except was it really a nightmare if she felt like she could fly, with more energy than she's ever had? If she had that kind of power, Ulrich's club would have to listen to her, she wouldn't need the stupid--

Another gasp. "Daddy? Where's my Walkman?"

"Hm?" He looks a bit baffled at the question. "Oh, it seemed to have fallen. It's completely destroyed--I'll get you another one?"

"No!" The wail antagonizes Sissi's raw throat, but she doesn't care, trying to sit up again (and this time wisely leaning on the pillows for support). "Th-there was a minidisc in there I'd recorded on--I was gonna tell you--I heard Jeremie and Aelita talking in the hall last night and he was going on about how she wasn't really Aelita Stones and she wasn't even a human and--"

Her father sighs, shaking his head. "Yolanda, has anyone else come in lately babbling like this? I should get the pipes in the dormitory building checked..."

"No, sir, no more than usual. I think it's a good idea, but if there was a leak in the building, more kids would--"

"It wasn't a gas leak, Daddy, it was real!" She pounds her fists into the bed. "I heard it! I had proof! They were gonna tell me everything!"

"Elizabeth..."

Her father squeezes her wrist and she grinds her teeth because she doesn't want him to comfort her right now she wants him to listen to believe her she wants to cry angry tears because she'd been so close and what had happened and why had she been in the boiler room with a pipe standing over Ulrich like a maniac and why had he been so NICE to her when her head had gotten funny and she'd slumped to the floor and--

She doesn't resist when he gently pushes her shoulder until she's back down into a horizontal position. She shuts her eyes tight again, trying to keep her lip from wobbling and the rock in her throat from getting out and it's like her whole body's been wrung out like an old towel.

She feels his hand brush her hair away from her forehead. "I have to go now." Because he's busy, he's always busy, he's always been busy-- "Be good for Yolanda, all right? We can talk when you've had some time to recover."

"I love you, Daddy," she whimpers.

"I love you too, sweetheart."

He leans down to kiss her on the forehead, and it loosens the knot in her stomach just a bit, even as she hears his shoes clicking away from her.

...

There's a knock on the door. Yolanda glances over from where she'd been examining her shelves of supplies. "Come in?"

It had only been a few minutes since her father had left, but Sissi was wide awake now, and already starting to hate being in the infirmary for seemingly nothing. But...her head's still hurting, she's still kind of dizzy, and the last thing she wants is to fall on her face in front of half the school. She's sitting up now, crossing her arms and staring at the door as it's cracked open.

"Um...is Sissi still here?"

Her eyes widen, and she sits up straighter. "Ulrich?!"

"Hi." Peeking around the door, he gives that awkward, crooked little grin of his, along with a tiny wave. When Yolanda nods at him, he opens the door fully and steps inside, one hand in his jacket pocket. "I wanted to see how you were doing."

"Oh, I-I'm fine now." She immediately feels her stomach doing flips because he's talking to her, oh god, and with his voice so soft like that, get a hold of yourself. Something about his gaze cuts through her, though, and she ducks her chin a bit. "...My head hurts a little."

"I can imagine," he says, with a huff that's almost-just-barely a laugh. He glances over to Yolanda. "Can I talk to her for a sec?"

Yolanda nods. "I have to go and get a few things out of storage, actually. Make sure she stays in bed? I don't want her falling."

"Sure thing, Doc."

Ulrich gives her a cheeky little mock-salute and Sissi has to swallow a giggle that would definitely make her look stupid. Yolanda takes another few seconds to write a list, then leaves, shutting the door gently behind her.

Ulrich watches her go, then turns his gaze back on Sissi with an intensity that nearly stops her heart. His face is suddenly all harsh edges and seriousness as he leans on the side of her bed.

"I mean it, Sissi, how do you feel? Anything you can tell me."

"U-uh...Well, like I said, my head hurts, and I'm dizzy, just a bit...and my arms feel kinda..."

"Yeah?"

"...kinda like they're loaded with weights." Sissi winces, lifting her arm and stretching out her finger. "And now that you mention it, my shoulders ache pretty bad."

"What about your eyes?"

"They're a little stingy, I guess...?" She bites her lip. "Ulrich, what happened? I remember you were in the boiler room with me..."

"You don't remember anything else?"

"The last thing I remember is my alarm going off this morning."

Ulrich stands up straight, looking away from her and staring into the wall hard enough to burn a hole in it. She wonders, moreso than usual, just what's going on in his head.

"...Forget it," Ulrich mutters eventually.

Sissi blinks. "What?"

"It--you were just following me around, tripped down the boiler room stairs, it wasn't much of a thing."

Sissi doesn't want to feel it, not at him, but anger bubbles up in her chest. She sucks in a sharp breath through her nose. Does he think she's stupid? "You're lying," she says. "Why did I have that pipe? Why were you on the ground?"

"I said forget it, I don't know what you're talking about." Ulrich turns away from her completely, stuffing both hands deep into his jacket pocket.

She bristles, but when she speaks, her voice is terribly small. "You...you know what actually happened to me, don't you? I know what I saw."

Ulrich huffs, marching towards the door. Her fists clench.

"Ulrich! Just what is going on?!"

"See if I help save you again next time," she hears him grumble, before he disappears out of the infirmary--too fast for her to ask what he meant by that.

Sissi groans, flopping back onto the bed. He knows. There's no way he doesn't know. And she knows she wasn't imagining that scene in the boiler room. So why won't he tell her anything? Why is he keeping so many secrets? She's only kind of tolerating all of it because it's him and she wants to keep talking to him, and--

And there's something in her chest, an envy so easy to mistake for the other kind eating at her that she forgets it's there most days, but she feels it when she really looks at him and his club. A sort of...regret, a longing, an opportunity wasted, please let's talk this out, please let me explain, I only wanted to help you, I thought you were going to die and when people are in danger you tell the adults and they fix it why is what I did so wrong why won't you why--

"Elizabeth?"

Sissi startles. She hadn't even heard Yolanda come back in. "Yeah?" It comes out a little too snappy, and she realizes her whole body is stiff as a board.

Yolanda raises an eyebrow. "What's the matter? Did Stern agitate you?"

"Stern always agitates me," she mutters, closing her eyes again.

[twh-news]

Loki Season 2 Episode 3 Review: A Major Problem

★★★☆☆

[Article contains spoilers]

There's a big TVA reunion afoot in the third episode of Loki season two.

A headache-inducing episode of Loki gets underway in the 1800s this week, as Ravonna Renslayer finally pops up on the Sacred Timeline with Miss Minutes in tow. He Who Remains’ promise in the season one finale – that if Sylvie killed him he’d just end up right back on top – seems to hinge on a plan to kickstart a kind of causal loop, where a past variant receives a copy of OB’s TVA guidebook and is inspired to create all manner of technological inventions, including a rough version of the temporal loom.

There are positives and negatives to this trip back in time. It’s great to have Gugu Mbatha-Raw and Tara Strong back as the ruthless Renslayer and Miss Minutes respectively. The pair are dynamite together here, and I’m still fully able to suspend my disbelief and buy into the talking animated clock on screen as a real presence. Miss Minutes’ old timey black and white look is an incredible visual flourish.

The Balder the Brave chatter between Loki and Mobius is also a really fun Easter egg for fans who have been charting the character’s failure to launch in the MCU since Kenneth Branagh’s first Thor movie, and it looks like Daniel Craig will never get to throw on Balder’s costume now. Loki’s “I don’t know her” attitude got a real good laugh out of me regardless.

The 1893 World’s Fair is a fascinating setting for the introduction of Victor Timely (Jonathan Majors). As Mobius alludes, so many key historical events were happening around this time, including many of the horrific crimes committed by serial killer H. H. Holmes. A lot of visual effects work has clearly been put in to recreate the vibes of the era, but depending on which shot we’re dealing with it’s hit and miss. The Ferris Wheel sequence is perhaps the most engaging of them all, as Sylvie and Loki call back to the season one finale, battling it out for Timely’s soul while he’s thrown around the passenger car.

Timely himself is the real problem. Setting aside his troubling legal problems for a moment, Majors’ performance as Victor is just awful, though I fear this is another “your mileage may vary” situation. I admittedly really enjoyed the acting choices Majors made as both He Who Remains and Kang the Conqueror, but his execution here took me right out. It’s just way too pantomime, making Oscar Isaac’s turn as Steven Grant in Moon Knight seem almost reserved in comparison. It actually reminds me of Kiefer Sutherland in Dark City a bit. I love that movie, but I can understand why people hated his performance in it. For what it’s worth, my colleagues at Den of Geek didn’t have a problem with Majors’ Doctor Who guest star-esque Timely at all. This one may just be divisive!

Much more entertaining is Miss Minutes’ continuing transition from helpful AI to unhinged cartoon bunny boiler. Miss Minutes’ romantic (and clearly erotic) obsession with her maker is sincerely touching and troubling; her love for He Who Remains/Victor teetering into pure rage at moments. Strong is able to fully flex her notable voice talents in these scenes. It’s a real rollercoaster to hear her despairing monologue descend into fury and panic. I applaud this arc for Miss Minutes, personally. Sci-fi writers will often create fictional AI that gets mad and kills us, but hardly any of them are brave enough to ask “what if it was also really horny?”

Along with Strong’s nightmarish performance, Di Martino gets more to do as Sylvie in episode three, and the character’s inner conflict over killing Timely is palpable. It’s interesting that she decides not to slay him again, and that the punishment she dishes out to her violent pruner Ravonna is non-lethal. Sylvie always seems destined to wrestle with whether or not to play God, which is clearly a work-in-progress when you’re a God!

As the episode comes to a close, we leave Victor joining our TVA good guys and Ravonna and Miss Minutes stranded at the end of time, with Miss Minutes about to drop one hell of a truth bomb on Ravonna. I guess we’ll have to wait and see how angry she gets about it next week.

[goblinkingdomsblog]

Bts as mafia series ask

What will they do after kidnapping agent yn who is not willing to give info

What will they do after kidnapping agent y/n who is not willing to give information

Members: all BTS.

Genre: mafia!AU, reaction.

Premise: you are a police agent who was captured by one of the most influential members of the criminal organization you have been investigating for weeks. He's trying to get information out of you through interrogation, but you're not going to give in, no matter what. So he needs to think of a new plan.

TW: a little bit of (V) = Violence, but more of (S) = Safe for reading and (Sg) = Suggestive.

Mafia Series Masterlist

Mafia Series Plot

I don't know if this is exactly how you imagined your request, but I hope you enjoy it. ;)

"Precious information is always worth it."

Namjoon:

You were tied to the chair for a long time, until he came and released you. You immediately thought about the easiest escape route, but the abandoned, damp pavilion in which you were, behind huge boilers, seemed to have no end.

He smiled calmly, standing a few feet in front of you with his arms crossed.

- Agent Y/N. What an honor. - his voice was sympathetic, lulled by a hoarse and low tone - I've been looking for you for a long time. I heard you're trying to get me in trouble.

You laughed bitterly, spitting on the floor to get rid of the taste of the gag that had been in your mouth just minutes before.

- I feel really sorry that I didn't cause more problems, then.

Surprisingly, he laughed back, as if he were in the presence of a rebellious child who he needed to educate.

- You didn't answer the questions my subordinates asked you, did you?

- I will never reveal anything. You can send those dumbasses back and make them punch me more. - you touched your aching jaw with your free hands, without looking away from the one who you knew were the leader of the Organization - I can deal with them easily.

With his arms crossed, he rubbed his expensive shiny shoe on the floor, lifting his index finger.

- Oh, no, no. That was my mistake, caused by a wrong choice of members. Let's say they are not exactly the smartest members of our... company. I'm sorry about that. - he laughed quietly, adjusting his glasses over his nose with the casualness of someone who was shopping at the supermarket.

- So what are you going to do, you bastard? - you grunted, trying to distract him just to have time to think of a good way to get out of there.

He laughed again, a short, somewhat dangerous laugh.

- Courageous. - he murmured, with a sharp gleam in his dark eyes. He stared at you for a long moment before proceeding - Well, violence is almost never the best option. It is always better to treat the guests with whom you want to have a conversation with calm and courtesy. And, of course, without haste.

Feeling a cold shiver down your spine, you stayed still.

- I have all the time in the world, my dear. I can wait until you're ready to start. - with a singing smile that exposed two deep dimples, which now seemed sharply malignant, he turned to the darkness - Ah, and don't even think about running away. If this place already seems big to you, know that it is bigger than you think. And there are some rather interesting obstacles around here.

With one last look over his shoulder, the faint moonlight that came in through the windows reflecting off the lenses of his glasses and preventing you from seeing his eyes, he clicked his tongue.

- But, if you insist on trying to escape... - he pronounced, as if he considered the whole situation a great pleasure, and not a threat - I wish you good luck.

Seokjin:

You were in a small house, surrounded by at least 4 tables full of electronic equipment, computer parts, baubles and dust.

The man seated in front of you, with his chin in one hand, kept his eyebrows raised. By moving your hands tied behind your back, you tried to free yourself from the wheelchair in which you were trapped.

- Stay still. - he murmured, harshly. His expression was divided between apprehension and irritation.

- I am still. It is kind of difficult to make any movement while you are tied to a chair.

Without paying any attention to you, he rolled his eyes.

- I don't know why they thought of me as the right person to fulfill this mission. As if I had nothing more important to do. - his face, beautiful as a carved brilliant, was extremely expressive - And now, to make things worse, you still don't want to collaborate with the interrogation!

You smirked, shaking your head in the middle of the room with brown walls and orange lamps.

- I'm sorry for being a stone in your path. I bet if you let me go, you would be relieved. - your tone was acidic.

Bitting his lower lip, he snapped his fingers. With an impulse from the floor, he slid the wheelchair in which he was sitting to one of the tables, turning on one of the computers.

- Actually, I have a better idea. - he said, his plump lips curving into a smile as his fingers typed quickly, as if he were thinking of a joke that only he understood.

After a few quiet seconds, in which the only noises in the house came from the computer, he turned towards you and rotated the computer screen to your direction, so that you could view it entirely.

- I think you will be the one relieved when you collaborate with my questions. - he murmured, pointing the image on the monitor: the security cameras on the street in front of your family's house, recording everything in real time. It was even possible to spot your mother through the window - It's not that hard to find out certain things on social media, you know? I would recommend you to be more careful from now on.

Your smile died on your face, replaced by an expression of fear.

Yoongi:

The stone basement under the busy bar was a much darker place than it had seemed at first. The endless noise of parties was able to hide the most diverse noises.

The man standing at the door, talking to two others who remained in the shade, seemed completely calm. Which was the total opposite of how you felt.

Trying to shake your body to get rid of the rope wrapped around your entire torso, you groaned. You knew that dozens of bruises would form on your arms because of the effort, but you couldn't stop trying.

Dismissing the two henchmen, the man near the door turned in your direction. Approaching with his hands in his pockets, he stopped a few inches away, bending to reach the height where you were trapped.

- As you didn't want to answer when I asked patiently, I decided to change my approach. - with a slow, almost lazy, gummy smile, he took his hands out of his pockets, revealing a pile of pills.

Knowing what "industry" he was in, you were sure those pills were drugs. Although you were afraid of what might happen, you would never let it show.

- What are you going to do? Forcing me to swallow and kill myself from an overdose? - you almost spat, bending forward in an attempt to hit him with your head.

He laughed, and his laugh was a little choked. He smelled of cigarettes, both in his baggy clothes and on his breath.

- Don't be so hasty. I already said that I am very patient, so I would never force you to take one of them. - he shook the pills in his closed fist, letting them make a noise - I'll let you choose one of them.

Grunting, you turned your head.

- The choice is entirely yours. You may take a sweetie pill, which just makes you more relaxed to answer my questions... - his expression went from amusement to a somber seriousness, while he averted his eyes downwards - or you may take a poisoned one that will kill you. Sadly you don't have the option of not taking any pill.

Smiling again, exposing his gums in a way that made his expression frighteningly youthful, he shrugged.

- I hope you have a good eye for analyzing pills. Or at least a good tolerance.

Hoseok:

He was smiling in your direction for good 3 minutes now. Sitting upright, his knees 5 centimeters away from yours (that were tied to each other), he looked like an experienced dealer wanting to convince you to buy something.

You were already so tired that you felt almost ready to "buy it".

- If you tell me some very simple details of the investigation, I promise you will be released without any injuries. - his face was soft and friendly, and he spoke with such conviction that it was easy to accept.

You were sweaty due to the fact that you had been struggling in that chair for hours on end, trying to break free. That damn apartment seemed to be in the end of the world, because no one on the floors above or below made a sound.

It was time to try something different, to put pride aside. You had full faith in your ability to act.

- Do you... really promise? - you asked, in a weak voice and with an innocent expression, which made apparent the tiredness you were feeling (on purpose, of course).

He broke into a big smile, crowned by his shiny, aligned teeth. He looked cheerful as a child who had just won a candy.

- Of course, my dear. - he replied, lightly touching your hand tied on the arm of the chair. His fingers were warm and soft.

You smiled back "timidly". You would lie masterfully, until you convinced that man to let you go. You knew you were able to do that, because it was a necessity.

- Then... I will collaborate.

Caressing your hand briefly, just before letting go and looking you in the eye, his smile lessened a little.

- Just know that liars are not treated so politely. - he murmured, in a practically humming way - And I always know when someone is trying to deceive me, my sweet. Always.

Suddenly, the touch of his fingers no longer seemed as gentle as before.

Jimin:

The man's eyes seemed to burn in his face, just as the hate burned inside you. He was lying beside a round table, stripped, staring at you through half-closed lids.

- This is kind of kinky, don't you agree? - he asked, breaking the silence, his legs spread in a careless pose as he watched you.

You wanted to scream. You pulled your arms out, listening to the clink of the metal rings and then feeling the physical immobility. Being chained to a cement wall by your wrists and ankles, standing for hours, was far from any pleasurable idea. That was a fucking torment.

- Fuck you, you crazy bastard! - you grunted, your voice hoarse in your scratched throat - If I ever have the opportunity, I swear I'll kill you!

He didn't smile, but something in the curve of his eyes exposed the fact that he was enjoying the scene. In a leap, he rose from his chair, an evil idea igniting in his mind.

- What if that opportunity reveals itself now? Could you kill me? - he purred, approaching cautiously. You didn't know if he was teasing or threatening you, as his body movements were unreadable.

- Chained here? How fair is this clash? It is obvious that you will win. - you spoke through, your head hanging forward. You were an accomplished fighter in the police, but no one with their arms and legs trapped would be able to win a hand-to-hand fight.

- Of course I'm going unchain you. I'll even give you some time to warm up. I like fairness in this type of game. - the way he spoke, with pleasure, showed an insatiable desire for combat. You wanted to punch him.

- How can I be sure that you will not cheat? You are a fucking mafious.

This time, he laughed sharply, putting his hands on his stomach.

- I promise you that our fight will be fair, based only on the skills of each one. Especially because, if I win, my only prize will be to chain you back on this wall right here. - he got close enough to hold the sides of your waist with his hands, more firmly than expected. You forced yourself not to shudder - And while I really appreciate the sight, it is nothing that I haven't already seen.

You thought about attacking him right there, but it was better to wait a little more. Using his hands on your waist as a support, he started to unchain you.

Taehyung:

The boy was standing, his back against one of the only walls of the ruined building. The empty terrain you were on was extensive and the wind was blowing strong, turning all that vastness into a damn desert of grassy ice.

You were standing a few feet away, with nothing to hinder your movements. Still, you couldn't move, as you knew he had confiscated your loaded gun and was now keeping it in his pants pocket, ready in case any attempt was made to escape. You didn't want the same thing that happened to your two coworkers, now two bodies lying on the ground in the woods, to happen to you.

- Will you tell or not? - the man asked, boredom evident on his face. His voice was low, peaceful as a lullaby.

- I won't. - you said, shivering from the wind and nervousness. Nothing mattered now, not even your life: you had vowed to keep the investigation a secret, and that's what you would do. You would die with honor, just like the others.

Arching one of his thick eyebrows, he remained still. His mouth went up in one corner, in a angled smile.

- Ah, too bad.

- Shoot fast, can you? - you shouted back, extremely tired of it. You wanted it to end fast.

- I will not shoot you. You are useful, unlike your unintelligent colleagues who tried to attack me.

You clenched your teeth, the sound of the wind almost deafening your ears.

- What are you going to do then?

Wiping the hair off his forehead, which insisted on sliding in all directions, he waved a hand, turning the loaded revolver in one finger.

- Ah, I decided to let your teammates answer the call that the... deceased agents sent on the radio. They will get here behind this wall, as it is the easiest way to access the terrain. - observing the barrel of the gun and then opening the magazine to see how much ammunition was inside, he continued: - It is always good to practice my shooting from a long distance, just to not lose the practice.

Wide-eyed, the scenario in which your colleagues were killed one by one by shots from a hidden sniper crossed your mind. It was terrible.

- But, if you like your colleagues very much and decide that your willingness to offer information is greater than my intention to play target shooting, it may be that things happen in a much easier way. - he stated.

Jungkook:

He almost never looked up from the ground, and when he did, his eyes kept hidden under the brim of his hat. Not that it was easy to spot anything inside a dark and metallic bunker, in which you could barely move because you were handcuffed to the table fixed on the floor.

After hesitating for a long time, the man with tattoos on his fingers sitting in front of you finally spoke:

- You have to answer. I am here just following orders, and you are delaying my other appointments. - if there was something behind which he could hide, he would probably do it. But not out of fear... it was for another reason.

- I already said I won't tell you anything. You can kill me already, dumb child. - you almost roared, the rage accumulated in hours of silence revolting inside you.

Yes, even though he was partially hidden by the shadows, the fact that he was young was evident. More a shy boy than a silent man.

His eyes widening in shock, he stepped back a few inches. With an increasingly wheezing breath, he got up and walked to a door in the corner of the bunker.

- You're making things more difficult for both of us. - he said, with a dangerous tone.

Opening the hidden door with a single movement of his drawing-covered hand, he revealed a gagged figure, struggling and muttering in a useless way: your partner in the police and best friend, Denyel.

You gasped with fright when his figure became visible, his body covered in sweat. With a sudden tug, the tattooed man dragged your friend over to the chair where he himself had been sitting before, forcing him to settle down.

- With each denied answer, a little bit of his life is gone. - the boy's voice was now expressionless, and his hands moved quickly as he took dozens of knives from the belt under his coat and placed them on the table, with a clang - I can make it drag on for hours, believe me. I know exactly how much "life" to remove until there is no more of it left.

That's it for now! Did you like it? Tell me your opinion and your suggestions, my dear reader.

If you want to request anything, send me your ideas!

The images used on this post are not mine. Credits to the owners.

Kisses from the Goblin Kingdom! :)

[wisteria-lodge]

(slightly) burnt badger secondary (bird model)

I’m probably an improvisational secondary, although I’m not sure whether Lion or Snake. It would be great if you would help me. This is kind of long, sorry about that. 😅

Burnt secondary?

I don’t consciously change the way I treat people. Much. I do change the manner in which I speak though. I know a few people who are very hyper and excited-squealing kind of persons, and I try to behave in a similar manner around them. Use the phrasings they do etc etc. It’s kind of conscious? I mean, I don’t go in thinking ‘got to be peppy around xyz’, I am just aware when it happens and able to be more serious if I feel the need to. Similarly, I know people who prefer to use formal language, even with their friends. I use the same when I want to make them comfortable, but use the informal form when I want to appear carefree, if that makes sense.

All things being equal, this sounds more like a description of Badger Mirroring than it does Snake Masking or Bird Acting. Note “I want to make them comfortable.”

I can affect an interest in things I don’t care about, but why would I? It’s hard to maintain that act for longer than a few minutes since I keep getting bored. Besides, I haven’t yet found a situation where that was helpful.

So… is this a thing about having trouble with non-preferred tasks? Or is this about like, feigning interesting in what someone else is saying? Because sure that is an old-school etiquette tactic, but that whole “Oh, Mr. Simpson, please do tell me more about the work you do with steamship boilers, it fascinates me so” just seems like… a very, very highly specific Actor Bird mask.

My family doesn’t approve of dishonesty. Not at all. My sister is extremely uncomfortable with the prospect, my mother will only do it if there’s no other option and my father is extremely, extremely disapproving of it.

Always my question when I meet that kind of hard-line Kant-style opinion is… okay. Does simplifying count as dishonesty. How about code-switching, or leaving things out (and you’re always going to leave something out...)

My feelings on lying are uneven. I think it depends on who I’m lying to and what exactly it is.

You’re getting more specific for me, love it.

I feel guilty lying to my mother when I get shit marks or to a teacher I respect about my homework. I am more than fine lying about my sexuality.

Both of those things are pretty… human. And there are some things (like your sexuality) that don’t have to be anyone else’s business.

I’m fine lying when doing so would solve a problem (in my experience, lying rarely solves problems). I am slightly ashamed to admit that when faced with a problem, often my first instinct is to lie, even if being honest would be simpler/cause less problems.

I don’t come up with lies on the spot. I can do that, but thought goes into the best-kept lies.

I’m really not thinking you’re an Improvisational secondary. Everything so far has sounded really, really Built.

I’m very goal-focused. Thinking about the way I’m doing something just trips me up. As long as I keep my goal in mind, I’m fine.

I’m not actually sure what this means. I think this is the thing about how - in art, or sports, or lots of other things - there’s a self that performs the action and another self that seems to give instructions. Instruction-self can over think and trip you up, and the best thing you can do is just trust the performance-self to know what they’re doing.

(I think - I think - this is the Badger secondary thing of making yourself into a tool.)

When I’m nervous I need to do something. If I’m anxious about school, I’ll pack my bag and ready my uniform the day before.

So to comfort yourself you prep.

If it’s an exam I’ll solve practice questions. If it’s a party, I’ll talk to people to relax myself. In hindsight, it’s like simulating the ‘problem’ ahead of time and solving it to reassure myself of my competence.

Okay, here we go. Your secondary sounds a tiny bit burnt. You aren’t totally confident in your ability to solve problems, so what do you do? You prep. You rehearse. (You could be either Badger or Bird at this point, but I’m leaning Badger.)

My favourite way to study is by understanding the text. I’ll read the text out loud, explain the concept in the other languages I know, try to apply it to different situations or find the way it relates to similar concepts. I have a lot of fun that way.

What a a great idea. There’s something about this fun with systems that’s starting to sound a little Birdy.

When I draw, I use a ton of references and pick a little bit from every image to create something that’s completely different. However, I don’t draw much because once I start, I don’t stop until the drawing is finished and that takes around 4-5 hours on average. 

oooh you’ve got a perfectionist streak to keep an eye on. But definitely a Built secondary’s process.

When I travel someplace, I like to just walk around and explore. Where I’m at they hold book fairs and the like. My family likes to look at the map and decide what stalls to go to, with minimal wandering. Bleh. If I had my way I’d pick a few stalls to definitely visit before the day’s over, but apart from that just stroll around and enjoy whatever pops up. If I get lost I’m confident in my ability to find my way back, usually by myself or if that doesn’t work, by asking the people around me. My family gets really stressed about getting lost. I really don’t get it.

I think you’re a Badger. Probably a very people-focused, Courtier-type Badger.

My father’s all about doing things properly, being punctual, not starting shit unnecessarily etc.

Your dad sounds like a Badger primary.

And he kind of has a point! Being punctual and dependable makes people have a good impression of you, which is useful and makes life easier. He places a lot of importance on these things, and the more he gets worried the greater my compulsion to act contrary and carefree.

I’m thinking you have a primary that clashes with his very support-the-group-don’t-make-waves Badger. Like a Lion. That might be why you were considering Lion for your secondary.

He has a lot of objections with the way I do stuff, and I know I am rather lackadaisical at times, but him shouting and fretting isn’t really doing anyone any favours. He says reasonable things but his delivery is…not perfect. I don’t like being insulted or ordered around, it just makes me want to fight back, get passive-aggressive or flee the scene.

I mean no one likes those things… but you might want to consider a Lion primary.

I like helping people because a) it makes me feel good and b) it lets me ask for help without feeling like a burden.

That is a very Burnt Badger secondary thing to say.

Also c) I have to be on top of things (or at least managing things well) to be able to help, so like, it keeps me from slacking.

That’s..everything I can think of. I would love to know what your thoughts are.

Badger secondary, just a little bit of burning, not much. And an internal primary like Lion or Snake is very possible. I’m also thinking you have a fun Bird secondary model.

[kaijurakunsobs]

You will feel joy, one day

master list for this series

sorry for the wait y'all, I had to torture myself into listening to the same song to get the inspo I needed for this next chapter which is READYMADE - Ado (it has English subtitles btw)

Hope you guys enjoy this!

Summary: It's been clear from the start that you won't go down without putting up a fight, the tone in your voice and stand are nothing but infuriating for Heisenberg, just like his mere presence fills you with annoyance. The factory is enormous and whatever he's doing here could get you killed, but even in this kingdom of oil and rusted metal, there's a bit of kindness.

Right now, you would accept the title of naive, because you were when you thought this man would share his secrets with you, instead...he's giving you a fucking tour of the entire place, wildly pointing and all the doors and doing sharp turns, taking you up and down flights of stairs "I hope you don't get lost, darlin', we don't want you ending in the wrong place, right?" there's mockery in his voice as he speaks over his shoulder, halting to a stop and making you trip and crash against him.

"This is the boiler room, you might want to familiarize yourself with this place in particular" a snarky smile appearing on his lips

Peeking inside makes you go pale and sigh in frustration, it's a mess, you can see cables, crudely fixed with tape, more flammable materials, and so many oil spills on the ground, "I can also familiarize with the rest of the fabric because this dump could explode any day"

His smile falls and that expression of annoyance, that just seems to be for you, comes back in no time. Releasing a cloud of smoke he turns around and starts walking faster, slowly regaining his showman's voice and the exuberance of his movements renew with the occasional laugh, is enough to make you tune him out again, looking at whatever you find more interesting, nose scrunching up with whenever there's something that unsettles or makes you question this man's leadership and care for this place. If you do take the role of helping him, you know you're gonna exploited day and night.

He's not blind or stupid, he knows you are doing everything but listening to him, every time he looks over his shoulder to make sure you are following and paying him some god damn attention, he will always see you eyeing everything, dissecting the place, and doing a face that just speaks volumes of how unimpressed you are by his life's work, but it's not like he will tell you about his plans, it's too soon for that, what if you are just a little spy under Miranda's orders?

It rubs him the wrong way how adamant she was on you being under his orders, super-sized bitch didn't raised too much hell, which also puts him on edge, it just doesn't feel normal for him. In any other situation where Miranda has favored him over Dimitrescu, and it wasn't because "mother" gave her that heartfelt speech Karl being all alone on his iron tower, Moreau is the forgotten child of the bunch and has to beg for almost everything, Miranda is already pissed with Donna and her botanical gig, let alone, the way she uses her cadou to just make dolls move.

That left him in the position akin to a middle child, he's just there, occasionally remembered and rarely to give him treats or surprises. He's used to scavenging for materials, do the occasional grave robbing or take the corpses the other Lords leave behind.

So, why did she left you with him?

"Lastly but no less important! the living quarters"

You have been so lost in thought, you didn't noticed that his "fantastical tour" is over, and you are back to the front of the complex...shit, you didn't even paid attention to where everything is, you're gonna get so lost if you try to navigate this place on your own.

After entering the brute closes the door behind you and goes to the left office, you can hear him mumbling under his breath and things being moved around, you don't know how long he's going to be in there, so you turn your attention to the rest of the room.

From everything you have seen, this place is the cleanest one and it makes you think of the layout in your family's factory. It looks like he repurposed what used to be the waiting area, there's a kitchen in the right corner, a couple of sofas that had seen better days, a lot of blueprints have been left on the coffee table. To the left, it's the main office, a lot bigger and the tinted glass on the door has the name Heisenberg hand-painted on it, classy, you suppose that that's his room? you don't care, opting for getting close to the blueprints, his handwriting is atrocious and there are notes everywhere, how interesting, one of the workers used to say that was a sign of a brilliant mind.

"You are not allowed to go there, a'right?" hearing him so close makes you jump, when did he come back? from the tone of his voice, you might be right, it's either his bedroom "This one, however! this one is just for you" he says oh so sweetly when pointing at the smaller office to the right opening the door rather unceremoniously.

Now you get why the rest of this area is so clean and clutter-free, motherfucker pushed all the trash and old furniture in there, it's dusty and the air, somehow, is stale only in this place, you can see cobwebs "Since I'm being kind enough to let you sleep on this side and not in the cellars, I think is fair that you take care of the mess, don't you think?"

"Can't I just sleep in one of the couches?"

"Of course not, we don't want my precious mechanic to get sick, right?" condescending asshole, he even smiles at you, showing you his teeth in what you identify as an act of intimidation

"Of course we don't want that, my Lord! but, I do must say, you have been ill-mannered, showing me around your domain yet...you haven't told me your name when introductions were supposed to be made long ago" it's your turn to give him teeth flashing smile, his going a bit forced

"Well you see sweetheart, I would have done it earlier, but I came encountered a disrespectful brat that decked me in the face as soon as we met"

"Really now? Perhaps, this brat was done with being manhandled and reacted accordingly to how they felt" the sardonic smile on your face grows and you can see how much it pisses him off, and that shouldn't make you proud.

The man is looking, more like attempting, to look down on you, clicking his tongue loudly and in a dissatisfied manner, with complete derision, he gives you, the closest thing to a respectful bow "My name is Karl Heisenberg and I'm one of the four Lords working under Miranda's orders"

In response, you give him a curtsy and use your best sarcastic tone, just for him "It's such an honor to meet you, my lord. I must say I'm no noble but I do HOPE you may remember the name of this pheasant girl, Y/N, L/N Y/N"

He doesn't appreciate the way you talk to him or how you don't even try to hide how little you respect or fear him, but he needs you alive to accelerate and optimize the factory's production, under other circumstances? he would have thrown you down to let the Sturm have some fun, but he won't, at least for now.

"So, Miss Y/N...let me give you a...welcoming gift" he's harsh when trusting a bundle of crumpled clothes and old boots into your arms, pushing you back hard enough that you almost lose your balance "I don't expect you to always wear my hand-me-downs, this is a momentary arrangement"

"Oh my! so generous of you, to clothe this poor village girl with your own garments, I am so thankful for this, however, if I may ask for a tiny favor...can I know where your bathroom is? I don't what to soil this fine fabric with my dirty body"

You don't like the way he smiles at you, with one hand he grabs your shoulder and with the other he opens the door, pushing you towards what used to be the employee's showers, there's mold and broken mirrors, a lot of the shower heads are gone and the only one that seems to be functioning is leaking.

"Serve yourself, princess, just know this...there's only cold water, the hot water stopped working years ago and I haven't felt like repairing it, I hope you enjoy your shower!"

And with that, he leaves you, finally alone but unnerved on how easily he could come back and just stare at you like a creep. But you need a shower, there's grime and dirt caked to your body and it's starting to get disgusting and itchy. So you swallow your pride and leave the borrowed clothes over the small wall separating the showers from the rest of the place and brace yourself to what might be the worst moment of the day so far.

Later you are cursing him as loud as you can, he didn't lie when he said that only the cold water worked, but you would say it was freezing, his clothes are uncomfortably big on you, and smell of faint sweat and like these were left tucked away for a long time, the boots are the best part, these have been broken in nicely and they fit you...who are you kidding? the damn things are falling apart and you feel like a clown with how big they are.

That has left you with the shining crown of the shit show that's been this whole day! the trash in your new room, you had to box so many useless papers, look everywhere to find one measly broom, and use the remains of the gown you came in with to keep your hair out of your face and as a bandana to cover your nose and mouth.

From all the old furniture in the room, the only useful stuff is the old desk, a sofa that somehow survived without being eating by termites but might be infested with cockroaches, and a lamp. It's not much, but it's something.

All this moving around now has brought a new problem.

You are starving.

You can't remember when Miranda took you, let alone when was your last meal or if you were fed during your time in the cell. But Heisenberg's fridge is empty, there's only a handful of onions and those have roots and sprouts coming out already. There's nothing substantial in the cupboards or anywhere for that matter.

You doubt there might anything to eat in this place, but, you better give it a try, better die trying than going to sleep with a grumbling stomach, right? But, you didn't learn jackshit from him and you can't remember anything from the directions Heisenberg gave you.

Fuck it.

Slowly you creep out of the small apartment and peek outside, looking around assures you that the coast is clear. This could be a great learning experience! no matter how much of a dick this man is, there's something of value in his words and maybe, just maybe, you should pay more attention when he talks...MAYBE.

The place is a labyrinth of stairs, broken walls turned into hallways and sealed doors, you do have half a mind to remember which doors and areas he pointed as "out of bounds" for you, which is a surprise, seeing how massive the place is.

Under the stench of grease and smoke, you notice, the tasty scent of stew...close, very close, your poor stomach twisting painfully and mouth rapidly filling with saliva, you start following the heavenly aroma until you reach an old cargo lift, a large man sits there and for a moment that makes you stop in your tracks.

The man is surrounded by bags and crates filled with stuff from fruits to what you guess are various pieces of machinery and other objects hard to identify in the low light "Aaaaah...a new customer perhaps? You must be Lord Heisenberg's new assistant, are you not?"

He smiles with true kindness and something similar to pity, meaty hands adorned with gold rings beacon you close "Come come, miss...?"

"Uuuuuuuh...I'm Y/N, nice to meet you..."

"Pleasure to make your acquaintance miss Y/N, you may call me The Duke"

There's something infectious in him that makes you relax your shoulders and walk closer to him "So...what do you do here Duke?"

"What? well, I'm nothing but a humble merchant, occasionally I set up shop here in the factory, especially when I have a delivery or things that may spark Lord Heisenberg's interest, and now that you are here, I will make a note to bring stuff you could use too"

"I...I would appreciate the gesture, thanks" the small sincere smile in your face drops when your stomach decides to grumble loud enough to be heard by the Duke, the man laughing at the sound, making your embarrassment worst.

"Would like to accompany me with dinner, dear? I have made plenty and this could be a small...celebratory feast for you"

"Celebratory? no offense, but...there's nothing to celebrate"

"Aren't you alive and able to walk?" he's so careful when serving some stew in a bowl, making sure not to spill a drop "I think that surviving whatever happened to you, is worth celebrating"

The bowl is warm in your hands and the smell is just divine, you take a seat on the floor waiting for the Duke to serve his bowl and then you dig in, sighing in appreciation when the rich taste of the broth fills your mouth, the softness of the meat and the carrots. You can see the Duke smile with pride when you compliment his cooking, enjoying each spoonful to the fullest.

"It's getting quite late Y/N and Lord Heisenberg is one to rise early, I suggest you go to bed or you end up feeling too tired tomorrow"

"Yeah...thanks for the meal Duke, I really appreciate it"

"Don't mention it and remember, the Duke's Emporium is here to satisfy all your shopping needs!"

You bid the man farewell and do the trek back to your room, taking time to memorize the way to the lift and the living quarters, the man might be a merchant but you want to get to know more about him, he seems nice, he's been the nicest one so far.

The living area feels cold and so terribly empty, there's no sign of Heisenberg anywhere, which you are thankful for. Only after entering your room and laying on your "bed", waiting a bit to hear any sound that might belong to the Lord, when only the sounds of the factory echo back to you do you dare to cry.

It starts slowly, your eyes fixated on the ceiling, then the flood gates open and you start to sob and scream, tears running down the side of your face to get lost in your hair leaving wet patches in their wake. But your crying evolves into fear, panic, raged breathing, and asking hands, all the weight of what happened today swallows you whole.

You don't know where to start, the way you growled at Heisenberg in the church, HOW he was able to move heavy metal without touching it? and all those corpses suspended ton hooks...the howls and things banging against the doors, the cruelty in how Heisenberg tossed you around and screamed in your face. How do you even managed to put and kept that brave face on when you were so scared is beyond you, you did it and that's enough.

The rapid and irregular movement of your chest does nothing but make your side hurt, the pain shoots up and down your body, making you curl on your side to alleviate the pressure if only a bit.

You want to die...but not like this, not terrified for your existence, not at the hands of a volatile man that can crush you with his hammer any day.

You want to live, but to live with your life depending on how well you perform your role? that's not a life at all.

Exhaustion and fatigue eventually take you away into a dreamless sleep, your last thought is...what's going to happen tomorrow?

You don't know, but as the Duke said, you survived whatever Miranda did to you and you will survive this too, no matter what, you will live.

[dameronology]

written in the stars (poe dameron)

summary: after months of going back and forth, you & poe are finally forced to have a conversation that you’ve been avoiding. it’s bound to hurt, but he’ll never give up hope. 

warnings: swearing, angst

i hope u enjoy! 

- jazz

You and Poe had broken up.

But also...had you really?

I should preface this by saying it was complicated - a tale as old as time, right? Two people who were still in love, but couldn't find it within them to stay and fight; but you couldn't find the tenacity you needed to leave, either. It left you in a state of limbo, half way between the gates of heaven and the flames of hell. Try as you might, and as many times you'd told your friends with complete bluster that it was over, it never really was. You couldn't quit Poe, and he was pretty addicted to you too. Your feelings weren't a switch. You couldn't just turn them off. That would have been pretty fucking convenient, but nothing about the human brain ever was. The very galaxy in which you existed thrived on complications: love and war, rain and shine, good and bad. Your relationship was like a smaller scale model of that. A constant back and forth between a state of battle and times of peace. That was what had forced you away in the first place: if you were in love, would it not have been peaceful all the time? At what point did you draw the line between passion and toxicity? He didn't know and neither did you.

The entire separation was a pointless fete really, because even if you were physically apart, Poe Dameron still owned your ass and staked a large claim in your heart. Your times with him had been some of the best; he was some of the best. It was just that you were both stubborn, and fighting in more than one type of war. It was all well and good to be head over heels, but only when the timing was right. The leap was only worth it if there was water to catch you, and in your case, it was jagged rocks. That hadn't been enough to stop you constantly running back to him though, bloodying yourself up time after time. 

It was always just for one night. Usually after a few drinks and some pretty intense eye contact, and you'd be falling back between the sheets together. There was always the whispered promise of I'll be gone in the morning, but then you'd wake up in his arms and know in your soul that it wouldn't be the last. You swore to yourself it was but even for someone as stubborn as you, it was a hard pact to keep. How many just one nights had you shared together? It was probably ten. Maybe in the ballpark of fifteen. And then, once you'd stopped lying to yourself for the sake of self flattery, you would realise that it was more like twenty. Maybe twenty five? You weren't keeping track. That wouldn't have been good for either of you.

The morning after your twenty seventh just one night, you'd woken to a quiet room. Everyone in the Resistance had been out late, and the base was peaceful, save for the sound of the whirring of the boiler and the occasional clanging of the pipes above you. Poe's arms were tightly around your waist, holding you to his chest. His curls were tickling your neck as he quietly snoozed, head buried in your neck.

It was the first few moments of blissful, bleary-eyed ignorance. You know the seconds immediately after you wake up, when the circumstances were beyond you and your own name was a mystery? You willed yourself to stay in them, to not remember who you were or why you were in Poe Dameron's bed. Thinking about it would hurt.; remembering would have hurt. A cold reminder that the best thing in your life had become another victim of the war. That you weren't together and hadn't been for a while. Months, actually. Bare times like these, you'd let him slip away a long time ago.

You were the realist out of the two of you. Poe Dameron was a hopeless fucking romantic and every time you fell back into his arms, it gave him a little glimmer of hope. A tiny piece of anticipation that you would forget your existing problems and say come home, baby. He knew it was foolish but in times like these, pipe dreams were the only way people got through the day. Day-dreaming of romanticism against the back drop of a raging war was more common than not. Even Leia Organa dared to let herself dream. What else did anyone really have?

'Morning.' Poe quietly whispered.

He was in a similar state to you, knowing that last night had been a mistake (your twenty seventh, to be exact) but not wanting for it to be over just yet. If you could pretend for a little longer, even just five minutes-

'I have to go.' You sighed softly.

'Got a meeting?' He asked. 'On a Sunday morning?'

'No, Poe.' You murmured. 'I just gotta go.'

'Or could you not do that.' His grip on you tightened, head coming to rest on your shoulder. 'And stay here forever.'

Forever. That was a funny word. One you used to say to each other a lot - every day, in fact. I'll love you forever. I'll stay forever. That first one was true, at least. Forever was a big word. It was bigger than you and it was bigger than Poe. Neither of you knew what you'd been promising at the time.

'You know I can't.' You tried not to turn around, tried not to face him. The minute you caught wind of his warm eyes, you knew that would be it. The sad look on his face was enough to make you want to back-track on everything.

'Why do you always do this?' His voice was despondent. Poe let go of you, propping himself up on his elbows.

'Me?' You raised your eyebrows. 'It takes two tango-'

'- I don't mean that. I don't mean last night.' He pulled the covers further up his body as he sat up. 'I mean now. In the mornings.'

'What do you mean, Poe?'

'You're always the one to leave.' He said. 'You have a foot halfway out the door before I even wake up. Fuck, you have a foot half way out the door the whole night. You don't even bother shutting it behind you.'

'You know why.' You didn't bother to argue, instead clambering across him and out of bed. 'We've had a thousand conversations about it.'

Poe followed you out of bed, winding the sheet around his waist. He watched as you darted around the room, picking up your clothes that had gone flying the previous night. You pulled them on with haste - you just wanted to get out. The entire atmosphere was suffocating, threatening to swallow you whole and chew you up. That would have been preferable, actually. Poe wasn't usually this resistant when you'd left in the mornings before. He usually waved you off without a worry. Now, he was asking questions. Questions that you didn't want to answer, even if you knew what to say.

'That's the thing.' Poe said. 'I don't. I know we had our issues but the more I think about it, the more I realise that we can still make it work.'

'We can't!' You stopped, shirt midway over your head. 'You're forgetting, Poe.'

'Forgetting what?'

'The fighting!' You tugged it over your head, forcing your arms through either side of the shirt. 'The arguing, the accusations, the sleepless nights-'

'- that's my shirt-'

'- the you did this! and you did that!' You continued to ramble, pulling the khaki button up and throwing it towards him. 'Don't you remember? We were so dependent on each other but we couldn't seem to stand each other either.'

Poe's shoulders slumped, and he dropped back into the mattress. Yeah, he remembered. Chosen to forget, probably. Things had been either really, really good or really, really bad and it got to the point where the good wasn't worth the bad. If it was meant to be, it would have been lots of good times sprinkled with a few bad times. Instead, it felt like you were constantly in a storm, wading through the rain in hopes of finding a sunny day. That wasn't how relationships were supposed to be.

'So why do we keep doing this?' He asked. 'I know we were bad at a lot of things but we can't even break up properly.'

'Because it's a half-way point.' You reasoned. 'One night stands mean that we can be together without being together. No strings attached.'

'But we are attached, baby.'

You gave him a knowing look. 'My point exactly.'

'Are we going to keep doing this?' Poe murmured. 'Because every time you leave, a little part of me dies inside.'

You paused, biting your lip for a moment. You both knew the answer to that question - you just didn't want to admit it. This whole thing had to stop. The pretending to hate each other during the day and running to each other at night had to cease. Like smoking, the best way to quit was by going cold turkey. Just as Poe had said, having one foot out the door and one foot inside wasn't going to cut it anymore. You were in or you were out.

And out was the only option.

'For what it's worth, I'd rather it be coming in and out of your room than a revolving door of hot people.' You said. 'That might have actually killed me.'

Poe let out a small snort, despite the situation. 'I miss you. I really, really miss you.'

'And I miss you.' You replied. 'But I don't miss...needing you. I've learnt to exist outside of me and you, and so have you. We're better as separate people.'

'Separate entities.' He nodded. 'Got it.'

'That means that we actually have to do this now.' Your voice wavered slightly. 'We have to actually end it. We have to put us in the past and put a lock on it.'

Poe's chest felt heavy. He knew it was stupid to have held out hope that you might change your mind, but the fact you kept coming back for more lead him to think that the idea wasn't entirely crazy. What you had together was rare, and he knew he'd never find it again.

So, he settled for closing this chapter. For saying goodbye to this relationship; this version of you and him. It didn't mean that it wouldn't happen again in future. Maybe if you both survived the war, you could take the time to work through what had torn you apart. You could sit down and figure things out. There was no guarantee of it - no promise or certainty - but it was all he had. Because Poe knew that he could never completely quit you. Even if you said the words out loud and swore that him and you would never happen again, he knew you. You were past the point of no return. Past the point of ever loving anyone else in the way you loved one another. 

He knew that no matter what, you would come back to him. Maybe not now, but there were plenty of times in the future that weren't now. The idea that there might even be the slightest chance of you coming back and figuring it out was enough reason to fight. To fight for you, to fight for the galaxy, to fight for the Resistance.

Poe let you walk away. He let you get dressed, give him a watery smile and quietly shut the door behind you. Because he knew, no matter what, that you would come back to him. It was just the kind of thing that was written in the stars, like Leia Organ's bad-assery or Han Solo's sarcasm.

He didn't know when. He didn't know how. He just knew.

And that was enough, because he was certain he’d see you again. 

tags: @joyfullyswimmingface @etherealsanakin @interwebseriesfan24 @itspdameronthings @xwing-baby @jbtwpk @spider-starry @marvelinsanity​

[bopinion]

2022 / 26

Aperçu of the Week:

"If you don't have a hammer, you don't want to see a nail anywhere. If you have a hammer, all problems start to look like nails."

(Robert Kagan, U.S. neoconservative author, speaker and political consultant)

Bad News of the Week:

Putin won. With his plan to destabilize the West. It's summer 2022, and society (not only) in Germany is deeply divided. There is, for example, the struggle of the social systems against significantly increased defense spending in a state budget that, after all, has not grown. Or the inflation and devaluation of purchasing power that can be clearly felt in the average citizen's wallet against the further perversely growing wealth of the rich, above all, absurdly, investors in fossil energy. Or the competition of sustainable convictions against rising energy prices, for example when it comes to restarting coal-fired power plants for electricity generation. Or the prioritization of gas use between residential heating versus industrial needs. Let's take a closer look on this.

We all want to be warm at home, even when it's cold outside. And decide on the water temperature in the shower according to personal taste. Half of German homes - 48.2%, to be exact - are heated with gas. Followed, by the way, by 25.6% with oil, which is even worse, but let's not go there. Our house is one of them. When our landlords built it in 2016, a modern gas boiler seemed to you a contemporary technology: relatively efficient, reasonably clean, affordable to install and operate. Supply shortages seemed unthinkable. After all, even the Soviet Union had always delivered reliably during the coldest of all wars. That now seems far away - the good old days.

Today, energy is a highly political issue with relevance for war and peace. Because Putin is now doing just that: using energy as a weapon. As a highly effective one, because time is playing into his hands. Germany does not have a single LNG terminal today, fracking does not exist in this country, alternative suppliers cannot step in for two to three years, the shutdown of the last three active nuclear power plants at the end of this year cannot be changed, a flight forward into coal-fired power generation - the dirtiest power generation of all - would be an environmental role backwards. Putin has us in his grip. And leads us on a short leash that looks like a pipeline. Europe's largest country is held hostage.

All the more remarkable that our government is not putting up with it. And the Green Minister for the Economy and Climate condemns Russian aggression just as much as his French or British counterparts - even if their energy policies cannot be remotely compared: after all France is the world's largest nuclear energy user and Britain burns Scotland's North Sea oil. But now there is naked fear. On July 11, Germany's most important natural gas pipeline will be routinely shut down for about ten days of maintenance. And it seems a real option that it won't be back in operation after that. Why should it, when there are so many more straightforward buyers in China and India than those pesky Europeans with their raised index fingers.

This would confront Germany with a fundamental problem. The currently foreseeable supply situation, if Russia were to throttle back further or even shut down, would only allow the supply of private households or industry. Neither I can replace the gas boiler in the basement with a heat pump. Nor can my old schoolmate Gero change the production processes. He works at BASF, the world's largest chemical company. Which needs gas not only as an energy source, but also as a raw material. And its complex plants can't just be throttled back or shut down, because (no joke, that's just how chemistry works) they would then break down. Not to mention other industries, such as glass, ceramics or paper. This would not only lead to further supply bottlenecks worldwide (yes, Germany is the world's largest export nation after China), but also to unemployment, a destitute state, recession, bankruptcies, poverty. Putin has won. And we are getting scared. In the end, of the consequences of our naive blindness over the last twenty years. It's our own fault.

Good News of the Week:

Last week, the G7 summit came to an end. Just around the corner from us, in the Alps near Garmisch-Partenkirchen. With astonishing results. By that I don't mean (only) various remarkable statements in the final declarations. But above all a change in the mindset of this... humm, what actually? Panel? Let's take a brief look back: the "Group of Seven" was founded in 1975 - initially as the "Group of Six", since Canada joined only one year later. The member states represent only about 10 percent of the world's population, but generate about 45 percent of the world's gross national income. So it was logical to think that this was a kind of association of Western-oriented economic nations that was concerned precisely with economic aspects. Or so we thought. For a long time.

Now, against the current background of the Russian war, a political body has emerged from the G7. But it does not stop at this topic and new sanctions, because this time it has also initiated other remarkable projects: A "climate club" that goes beyond the Paris Agreement. A gigantic infrastructure development program for the second and third world as a counterweight to China's "New Silk Road." The integration of emerging economies. A global alliance against hunger and for food security. A Marshall Plan for the reconstruction of Ukraine. All catchy headlines for themselves.

This is especially remarkable because the G7 is merely an informal framework for cooperation. There is no administration, no secretariat, no apparatus in the background. Alternately, one country takes the chair and takes care of the organization with its resources. The implementation of any agreement is up to the individual members. It is therefore all the more astonishing to see the clout that has developed over the years. Especially in contrast to the World Economic Forum a few weeks ago. Already forgotten? See...

Personal happy moment of the week:

35 years ago I experienced the most important year of my life in Québec. It was an intercultural exchange program that not only introduced me to a new culture, but also to very valuable people. Among them, of course, my present wife, at that time my first great love. And I was able to discover what family means with an extremely warm and welcoming host family. So it was a great pleasure for me to learn last week that my French-Canadian father will come to Germany this summer. It's been five years since I've seen him and I've always been lazy about keeping in touch, social media and digital options or not. All the better that he's making the trip across the pond with his wife and dropping in on us, too. Bienvenue au Bavière, cher Maurice!

I couldn't care less...

...that Google has announced it will delete location records of abortion clinics from its users' movement data. And activists are calling for menstruation apps to be deleted, since they also record pregnancies or their "premature end". As apparently the encroachment of the US state, increasingly controlled by an arch-conservative Supreme Court, is reckoning on what is actually personal data. In a democracy, it is actually relatively simple: the people's representatives with whose positions or actions one does not agree are not elected. So go vote in the midterms. And choose wisely.

As I write this...

...I am shocked by the gun deaths of the last few days. No, not in the U.S., because there it has unfortunately become a daily occurrence. But even Denmark, one of Scandinavia's open, progressive societies, is not spared from maniacs who have too easy access to guns. Yes, it is ultimately people who kill. But guns are the tools that make it possible for someone to do such damage in the first place. We need more gun control. Everywhere.

Post Scriptum:

A year ago, severe flooding in the Ahr Valley in Rhineland-Palatinate left 148 people dead. Many are still shocked that climate change is causing fatalities in this country as well - and already. All the more shocking that this is a ridiculously low number compared to 19,000. Because an evaluation by the Robert Koch Institute, the German Weather Service and the Federal Environment Agency on Friday puts the number of above-average heat deaths in the three summers from 2018 to 2020 that way. Which were so hot because of climate change. It's real, it's happening, it's threatening. Right now, right here.

[jjk-anime-horray]

Call of Spirits

Megumi Fushiguro x Reader

Spirited Away Au

Previous

Chapter four:

The most interesting smell that ever has invaded your nostrils is probably the musk that the radish spirit that was currently taking up 90% of the elevator was giving off right now. The odor itself was a weird mix of unwashed vegetables and a sopping mop making you the perfect amount of uncomfortable as you currently were squished against the wall of the lifting box with Kugisaki. Who was just as uncomfortable as you were, and by the sheer look of disgust and discomfort on her face contemplating all of her life's decisions at the current moment.

While you could clearly hear Nobara bickering under her breath phrases like 'of course it's always customer first' and 'stupid radish could have had his own ride but nooooo'; she could clearly hear your heart beating faster than the fingers of a pianist playing Rimsky-Korsakov's flight of the bumblebee. Or to put it quite simply fast enough where your heart might actually pound a hole into your ribcage.

"Psk, hey you." The fiery orange haired girl whisper quips at you to get your attention.

"What?" You whisper quip back at her in response.

"Is it the raddish man invading your space that's making you nervous, or are you nervous to meet the boss?"

"It's a bit of both honestly."

"Alright, well, I would try to calm those nerves because quite frankly your stop is next."

"Oh okay."

Right on schedule in alinement with the end of your conversation the mystical but iconic ding of the wooden metallic elevator marked the arrival and ascension to your desired floor. The distinctive rise then fall under your feet confirming the notification.

With another iconic ding you swiftly exited the elevator by shoving your way through a couple of limbs and a whole lot of radish flesh to meet the boss who you knew absolutely nothing about, other than that they seemed scary.

Finally with one last push off of the white rough stomach of the radish man, the elevator doors finally came to a close just as you stumbled into the supposed office of the person you are meeting.

To start off, to you, it seemed like this person never got out of their goth phase in high school because the majority of the coloration for the room was purple and black with the last five or so percent being navy. Gloomy would a an understatement considering the only thing lighting the room was short wicked candles.

Interestingly enough, the one place in the room that was supposed to be the most vibrant and teeming with light, and or the fire place, was actually the darkest and the most ominous about of all of the office's nooks and crannies. In fact, you couldn't even see the back of it which was very peculiar.

With the curiosity enough to kill a cat filling your mind you quickly waltz over to the place in the rooming daunting on your mind. Letting your self inspect the wood burner your eyes traced around the cold stone trim of the mechanism, ultimately leading your leading your full blown pupils to let in more light at the darkness of the cut out box in the wall the a chimney.

The uncomfort you felt in the tiny elevator was nothing compared to the events that happened next. Instantly your eyes contracted into little slits as you forcefully have to stumble back from the fire place as it burst into flames along with every light giving instrument bursting into vivid life all the while you try to adjust your in pain eyes to the new life reverberation happening around you.

Then suddenly with the burst of light illuminating the room a short old man walked in. Grey haired, stalky, and grumpy in stature he wore traditional robes over some sort of jeans that couldn't be seen, only the outline, and he used a guitar as a cane.

"There have been rumors swindling around in the hotel, honestly I was a little disappointed to find out that they were true, yet here you are making the effort to see me, but why?" He gruffed out in an old gravely voice.

"I'm here to find a job."

"A job huh? You have spirit i'll give you that but you're human."

"I may be human, but I can still work."

"Your diligence isn't the problem, you're smell is, it's horrendous, no one is going to want to smell it."

"Well I can work in the boiler room were no one else will be there!"

"There only needs to be one boiler person, are you suggesting you take yaga's job?"

"Well......no."

"My thought exactly, so leave."

"What?! Why I really need a job."

Then out of the blue a rushing breeze swifted across all of the surfaces in the room leaving a wake of flying papers, only then to reveal the new presence of black haired spirit Megumi that you've come to know.

"Well if it isn't my usual little problem." The older man scoffs at the younger spirit. "What do you want?"

"You requested to see me sir, I have" He gestured to the lump in his pocket with is hand lifting it up "what you asked for."

"A right that, just go put in the back and leave i'm dealing with something right now." Which he clearly meant you.

"Sorry to intrude sir." The younger spirit quips, but he wasn't done speaking. "I couldn't help but over hear the last bit of the conversation between the two of you. Even though they're a human we both know their smell is already fading, and it will continue to fade as they keep eating our food. Just a thought."

The young spirit then swooshed out of the office room as quickly as he came, leaving the small package behind out of your. Also leaving the older spirit in reconsidering though that was clearly displayed on his face as turned back to meet your face. Then with pulling out a piece of paper and a pen he gestured to you.

"Come and right your name."

Doing as he said you just over and snagged the paper and pen from his wrinkly hand. Tightening your grip, trying to make your pen-men ship as neat as possible when gliding your hand in strokes across the scrap. Writing your name, (Y/N). Right after the man in front of you magically whipped the paper into his hand once for the read the piece's contents.

"(Y/N), lovely name." With that notion the ink on the paper started to change, more specifically the blackness started to lift of the paper and into the man's hand. "But from now on you'll be known as Sen, kugisaki will meet at the door and give you directions again.

"Wait that it's! I-

You couldn't finish your sentence because as soon as he stopped speaking he flew you back into the shaft in which you came, shutting the elevator's doors the second you entered the contraption, not even giving you a single second to do a double take on what just happened.

[fiveisnumber1]

Timeless - Five Hargreeves x Reader Side Story

I’m in the process of working on the next part of the main story of Timeless but I decided to write this short little side story so I hope y’all enjoy!

Main story parts:

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21 | 22 | 23 | 24 | 25 | 26 | 27 | 28

_________________________

The Tattoo - “A Family Reunion” Side Story

January 17th, 2014:

After a long day at school, Diego had come to pick you up. Holding the straps of your backpack you walked towards his car. Although the Umbrella Academy had pretty much faded out of the collective thoughts of the public, Diego still tried to keep a low profile for you. You never knew if there were any die-hard fans around so it was better to be safe than sorry. Getting into the passenger seat Diego happily ruffles your hair saying,

“Hey kiddo, you made it to Friday. Congrats on finishing your second school week.”

“Thanks.” You replied softly

It had been hard starting school again. You had been there for only ten days in total and it was completely different from what you knew. Public school was nothing like the private school your parents used to send you to. It was loud and rambunctious and there was never a quiet moment. It was good because you were never alone with your thoughts but the semi-structured environment wasn’t something you were equipped for. And on top of it, you were surrounded by kids your age but they weren’t your friends. You didn’t have friends anymore. As Diego drove away from the school you looked out the window watching the other kids pass by as they got on busses or into their family’s cars. Turning back to sit straight Diego asks,

“Anything interesting happen today?” 

“I pulled a knife on a kid at lunch.” You reply nonchalantly

“I’m not saying you were wrong. But why?” Diego asks

“He had a bow and arrow on him and startled me.” you responded

You hadn’t expected anyone to come up to you during lunch. You typically minded your own business and sat alone. Well, not completely alone. You sat at the same table as a girl from your music class. You knew she played the viola but other than that was quiet and reserved. You two never really talked but every once in a while you’d glance at each other. The kid that approached you though was more outgoing and made his presence known. He was in your gym class and always seen with a taller blond boy. You didn’t know why he had decided to come over to you but nevertheless, he did and even after you had pulled a knife on him he decided to sit down across from you and start talking. You didn’t really respond but you did listen to him. He kind of reminded you of Diego but maybe this would be just a one-off experience. 

Diego had thought about your response for just a quick second before responding,

“That’s reasonable. I’m proud of you for protecting yourself.”

“He didn’t seem like too much of a threat but okay.” you stated

Diego let out a small laugh. Of course, you wouldn’t see some 13-year old with a bow as a threat. Diego continued to drive as you told him about your classes and what you were studying. He listened happily as you discussed the experiments you were doing in Science class and how you were writing poetry in English. The two of you soon came to a stop as you arrived at the boxing club you were both a part of. On Friday’s you would come along with him before going back to the academy the next day. Entering the building you sat down on a nearby chair and started working on your homework as Diego trained with another member. Typically, he would work with you but because he had a match coming up soon he needed to focus on himself. 

Every once in a while though you would go up to the side of the ring and ask for help with a part of your homework. Sometimes you actually needed help but other times you just enjoyed the way your brother’s eyes lit up when you told him you needed him and the proud look on his face when you finally solved the problem. When you had finished your homework you would drag the chair to the side of the ring to watch your brother spar. Swinging your feet back and forth as you sat on the chair you tried to study the practice fight so you could improve your own fighting skills. During the fight though you would catch quick glimpses of Diego’s wrist and the Umbrella Academy tattoo that resided on it. You hated the sight. It was as if Reginald permanently branded him, connecting him to something he never decided to be a part of in the first place. It was a marking that would never go away just like the childhood he was robbed of as part of the Umbrella Academy.

The hours passed and soon it was time to close the club down for the day. Most other club members left and Diego grabbed the mop and bucket from the corner to start cleaning. Cleaning up the club was his livelihood. Al, the owner, was kind enough to let him turn the boiler room into a bedroom and give him a decent wage in exchange for training people during the day and cleaning up at night. You were always so proud of him. Your brother worked hard, harder than anyone else you knew. Even during his time in the Umbrella Academy he always pushed himself to do his best and then some. You admired it and wanted to work just as hard as he did. 

As he cleaned, you tried to help him though. Using your powers you did your best to liquefy the dried sweat and blood so it would be easier to clean. By the time he had finished, it was late and you had grown tired. Diego puts the mop and bucket away before coming over to you and saying,

“I think it’s time you get to sleep.” 

You nodded your head and let out a yawn standing up so you could head to the boiler room that Diego called home. Placing a hand on your back Diego guided you there. You rubbed your eyes before climbing into the bed. Diego tucked you in nicely before sitting on the edge of the bed and stroking your hair until you fell asleep. Once he knew you were completely asleep he carefully got up and went over to a chair across the room. He sat and watched you for a while to make sure you were okay but soon enough he drifted off too.

You started to toss and turn in your sleep. A chill creeping into your bones as images of snow rushed into your mind. The voices of your parents and friends surrounding you. Frantically you look around for them and see silhouettes. Familiar figures extending their hands as they call our your name, beckoning you to them. You rush towards the figures but the snow starts to pick up. The figures become obscured. You run around calling out their names but no one responds. From behind you, you hear the sound of snow crunching as if someone was running away. You turn around from the direction your family and friends were and follow the footsteps in the snow. Up ahead you see a figure that grows clearer the closer you get. 

“Five.”

You pushed yourself to run harder. To try and catch him. When you feel you’re close enough you extend your hand to grab his jacket but just as you do he vanishes. You trip and fall to the ground.

“No!” You called out as you sat up straight in bed.

Your body shook as tears started to prick your eyes. You looked around only to see the boiler room and Diego sitting on his chair off to the side. No snow, no figures, no Five. You took a few breaths before quietly getting up from the bed and heading over towards Diego. Carefully, you shake his arm quietly calling,

“Eggo. Eggoooo.”

Diego wakes up startled but soon calms down when he sees you there. He can see the tears building up in your eyes glisten from the light of the lamp. He always left the lamp on because he thought it would ease the nightmares but they still seemed to happen.

“Bad dream?” He questioned softly

You nodded your head in response. Diego opened his arms allowing you to sit in his lap before he held you close. You were so small and you didn’t deserve all this pain you were going through. He knew from his own experience of how difficult it was to be young and struggling with the pain of traumatic events. Tears slipped from your eyes as you dealt with the fallout of another nightmare. Diego slowly rocked you as he held you, the same way mom did for him when he was still small. When your vision cleared slightly you could see the image of the tattoo on Diego’s wrist. You reached out and using your pointer finger you began to trace the image over and over. Diego noticed what you were doing and questioned,

“Princess, why do you keep tracing that?”

You looked away from the tattoo and up at your older brother.

“If I trace it enough times maybe I can erase it away.” you explain quietly

“Unfortunately, that’s not how it works.” Diego responds

“But heat breaks down ink, if I can just vibrate the molecules enough I can make it go away. I know I can.” You elaborate 

“I’ve come to terms with it you don’t need to make it go away.” Diego softly replies

He hadn’t come to terms with it though. It was an awful reminder of the despicable man who he called his father. The same one whose roof you were now living under. Diego wished that he made more money, that he had a place where he could keep you safe from that man, but he didn’t. He knew you were fiercely independent and smart, but so was Five and their dad still did enough damage to make him run away through time. Five was the whole reason you were even in this mess. Diego wanted to seem strong for you though so he kept his feelings to himself on the matter. He might not have come to terms with it but you were the focus now, his focus, and his residual problems matter much less than making sure you would be okay.

“The one day I wasn’t able to be there...I went with my dad to bring your child to work day and yours did this.” You stated as you continued to look at the marking

It’s true. He did pick the one day where you were busy. You had talked all the week before about bring your child to work day and how it worked. You had gone every year with him since you were 3. He and his siblings were all excited to hear what it was like when you visited the next day but that excitement was ruined by the permanent scar they all received. 

Diego remembered that day in vivid detail. They were all summoned to the parlor and before they knew it the carnage began. Klaus got his tattoo first as punishment for being intoxicated. It was a vicious punishment for such a minor action. Allison went next and cried the whole time. When she finished Klaus held her as she continued to spill tears. Then it was his turn. The needle scared him but he put on a tough face to show that he had the mental fortitude to be a leader. He didn’t even accept comfort from his own mother. Luther and Ben went next and then Five was last. Five had looked at the front door the whole time, probably hoping you would show up unannounced and stop it before he was marked. It didn’t happen. All of them knew that their father chose this day on purpose. It was cruel. Diego looked off in the distance as the memories replayed in his head. He still tried to cheer up the conversation though by lightly joking,

“If he did it on a day you were around you would’ve burned the house down.” 

His joking didn’t work though as you sadly followed up,

“All of you hid it from me. Why?”

“We all knew you’d feel exactly like this, like it was your fault. We made a pact not to say anything because it would hurt your feelings and I’m sure you could guess who led the efforts on that idea.” Diego responded honestly

You nodded your head. Of course, he didn’t want to hurt your feelings.

“I always felt like you knew, but you never said anything so I wasn’t sure. How did you find out?” Diego added

“Vanya.” You respond with a yawn

“Of course it was Vanya.” Diego mumbles

You could feel yourself growing tired again. Your eyelids started to droop as you explained,

“She had drawn the image in black marker on her wrist and when I asked why she told me. He didn’t say anything until I brought it up.”

You didn’t like referring to Five by his name. You barely mentioned him because the wound of his loss was still too much. Diego didn’t understand how someone who cared for you so much could cut you so deeply. It didn’t make sense, but he couldn’t change the past.

“I could’ve protected you all...” You mumbled before falling back asleep

“It wasn’t your job to protect us.” Diego quietly replied

He held your small sleeping figure closer to him and rocked you once more.

“But it’s my job to protect you.”

[dearest-kibble]

If ur doing korra requests too, how about Amon hcs?

Yknow now that you’ve put that thought in my mind, I uhhh love it. (Also I love Amon’s voice like Amon and Zuko/General Iroh have,,, the best voices. also take a wild guess at who doesn’t have any gifs?)

So let’s say you were an equalist.

A really devout equalist. You were born a nonbender and were more than tired of being pushed around by the triple threats. Injustice had already plagued your world and though you weren’t around for the hundred year war, you’d heard your fair share of stories from your grandmother and father. And the things you’d seen.

Metalbenders making their own money while you had to get by with whatever you earned that day.

Waterbenders who were fabled you bend people to their will.

And there was nothing you could do about that. You were one person, trying to tell others of the injustice you had seen.

So when Amon rose to guide those who have been oppressed? To knock the benders down a peg? Oh you were all for it.

You attend the first rally, then the next and the next. Revelation after revelation. Watching as Amon — the man who’d been scarred by a fire bender who’d been so wronged in the past — make everyone equal. Benders should not have more privileges than the average citizen and if the equalization or numbers was needed to illustrate that?

Well you were all for it.

Amon had even been spirit touched so your siblings-in-equality said.

“Just like Avatar Aang,” excites whispers proclaimed as you watch in satisfaction.

Of course he deserved to be equated to Aang, he was truly trying to make peace and bring balance to a still unbalanced and unjust world.

He rarely speaks with others to hear out stories.

But so your Brothers, Sisters and siblings day, he’ll speak to his followers.

It’s here where you meet him.

In the boiler room of an abandoned Sato factory.

“Thank you, you’re doing something truly amazing for this city. I’d been trying for at least,” You pause to think and stare into his mask. He has deep, blue eyes. “A year before you started to make a difference. This cause, it means a lot to me. If I can do anything to help-”

“Tell me, what have the benders done?”

His voice which you’ve heard carried by a microphone, was much quieter up close. Calculated, volume measured carefully. Words chosen with tact to glide over a silver tongue and rich voice, iced with precision. Iron gravels somewhere in his throat.

It sounds unnatural.

He truly was sent by the spirits.

“They’ve counterfeited money, firebenders - do I even have to explain? Waterbenders, bloodbenders! Yakone terrorized people! The sheer amount of power plant jobs that are given to firebenders! Earthbenders who don’t need to keep a job! And no one will say no to a waterbender after Yakone!! None of it is okay in this world, but you, you strive to make things right in the world again.”

“Join my team. Your experience will prove quite useful to our efforts.” Icy eyes bore into your own. “You are quite useful.” You dip your head in respect.

“I aspire to be of use to this cause. I will devote myself fully to helping you.”

“It will be quite beneficial, I assure you.” If you could see his face (can he even smile?) you were sure he was smirking under the mask.

“Of course Amon, I hope it will be!”

“We have much to discuss. Please, follow me.” He walks to his microphone, places his hands behind his back and speaks with authority. “Brothers and Sisters, soon we will have yet another revelation. One that will make the benders tremble. Soon, we will have true equality, just as Aang intended!” Amon steps back slowly and stands proud as the equalists cheer and roar in approval. He waits for two chi-blockers to flank his sides before beckoning you over with a flick of his wrist.

“Tonight we discuss our ideas for our campaign. Follow me.”

He leads you through a heavily guarded back door.

You suppose being hunted by the (all bender) police would give reason to having so many guards stationed. You walk through doors that part at Amon’s appearance and are greeted with the sight of motorcycles and one truck.

“After you.” He gestures to an open truck and you walk towards it with no question. The interior is bare save for two uncomfortable benches and it occurs to you, this is probably a stolen vehicle.

“So, where are we going? You have got to have a hideout or something, right?” You have no problem stealing from those who steal from you on a daily basis.

“You will see. It’s a quick drive.” There it is again. The hint of a smirk in his voice.

The ride passes in a silence. What do you say to the leader of a revolution?

“Sir, we’re here.” A man in a mask opens the front door. “We will leave you now. Our eyes are still watching your position.” The man nods as he gives a small salute in the form of a bow.

“Very well. Dismissed.”

“Thank you brother!” You give the man a bow back as he leaves the doors open.

“Make sure to return the vehicle to its rightful place.” Amon’s voice calls to the driver as you jump out of the truck.

You expect to find yourself in a dark cave or forest. Not a dark, secluded part of town.

“It makes sense that you’d be here.” It’s a little less climactic than you thought. But hiding in plain sight always did help far more than going out of your way.

“Come inside, we have much to discuss.” Somehow without your noticing, his good is down, his mask away from his face, though he was apparently prepared with a scarf.

“I suppose with your burn, a facial scar would be far too easily recognizable. They’d figure out it was you right away.”

He just nods as he fiddled with a set of keys.

He’s just like everyone else. He just happens to be leading a revolution.

You hear a click, and the door opens to a very bare, sterile room. Masks line the walls, along with various plans and writing utensils.

He waves his hand in a motion for you to enter. Stepping through the door it becomes about five degrees cooler, at least. The scarf might not just be to cover his face.

“Sit.”

“Thank you,” you look around for a place to sit. There is only one chair and you look at it for a minute before realizing Amon’s deep icebergs of eyes are looking into your back. You walk to the chair and sit. It’s uncomfortable being the only one sitting and Amon towers over you.

“I guess I shouldn’t tell other Equalists where you live, I’m sure you’d have fanatics at your doorstep,” You attempt to crack a smile and realize that, yes, He can smile despite the burn that covers his face in a diagonal stripe.

“Hey! Even the spirit touched Amon can smile!”

“Yes, he can.” He allows himself a modicum of uncalculated speech. And it’s quite drastic how much a difference it can make. He quickly shifts back to the leader of a revolution and asks you how you’ve been wronged. You two talk for the better part of two hours. The equalists are going to take away all bending they can, only a select few are allowed to keep it if any. Amon is going to highlight you as a source of what imbalance there is between benders and those who are born without the gift.

“So we are going to get my story out?”

“Yes, I believe it has great value to our cause.” Burned lips curve into a larger smile.

“I never thought I’d see this day,” You are aware of the tear that’s in your eye, but this was something you’ve long since dreamed of happening.

You deserve a good few tears.

“I hope that my story can help bring to light the reality of Republic Cities treatment of nonbenders.”

“It will. You will help me to eradicate Republic City of benders.” His voice is water smoothing rocks.

“Is there anything else I can do for the cause?”

“Indulge me in a story,” Amon turns away from where you sit, still inches taller than you as he walks towards a window you didn’t know was there. It’s been covered by a curtain.

“My brother and I grew up years ago, before the Fire Nation wiped our family out.” He takes in a breath. “We has been playing out in the rain, a good omen for a good harvest, when we smelled smoke. My younger brother started to run. I begged him not to go,” You hear another labored breath make it through his nose. “Smoke in the rain only meant one thing.” You both knew what that thing was. “Once I realized that he wasn’t going to come back, I followed him back to our house, tripping in the mud as I ran, desprate to catch up.” You’re aware you’ve shed more than a few tears. “I was too late. My family was gone, Mother and Father died at dinner and My brother had been crushed by a beam on fire. I tried to lift it but it was too much. I couldn’t and it fell on my hands. I leaned down to talk to my brother, but he was already dead. I screamed at the flames, unable to come to terms. I went numb and my face, came away like this.”

Amon turns around for emphasis, sliding the curtain on his window aside.

It’s a full moon.

“I-I’m so sorry,” You wipe a tear only to realize it wasn’t there, it must’ve fallen. “I can’t possibly imagine what that must be like to lose a family. Benders should Pag for what they’ve done. To you, to your family, to anyone.”

“Was it an effective story?”

“W-what?” His blue eyes, cold like the night sky behind him do not blink.

The blood vessels seem angry.

“I take it from your tears that my story was an effective one?”

An orb of water, hovers above his right hand.

Veins bulge from beneath his gloves.

“You’re,” tears should be falling down your face. They’re not. “You’re a waterbender. Let me-“ You’re voice is going dry and you have a good idea of why. “Let me g-” the words stop in your throat which is quickly growing patches of water. A hand moves to claw af your throat to remove the words you’re choking on before it stops midway up to your jugular. Your fingers curve and flex before your whole arm is forced to your side.

“Bloodbender.” He laughs, cruel and deep.

He plays with the orb of water - your tears.

“You look a little parched.” He gives a dark laugh and flicks his wrist again, and your arm twitches uncomfortably as you feel a rush of blood shoot through your body. Your tears move oh so slowly into your forced open mouth.

You can’t even swallow as the liquid your tears that endlessly fill your throat slides down into your stomach.

“I’m glad you offered to help the Equalists. You will be so useful.” His smirk returns, a cruel thing when not hidden by a mask. “I already feel better being able to bloodbend normally.”

He releases your mouth and you shut it closed, the ache in your jaw painfully acute.

“Please- please let me go, I won’t-” Is it better to report the man who is a bloodbender or to let him make all equal? “I won’t report you.”

“You won’t” The moon makes his smile glint. There’s something wrong in it.

“I won’t,” you try to nod but your neck is stuck in a permanent lock.

“You’re staying here with me pet. You’re too fun to let go of.”

--

so guess who got a little carried away? me. it was me. i’m guilty also now i love Amon. (Maybe it’s just his voice also oof... me writing only in clipped sentences oh you bet.) anyway thank you to the requester and thank you all for reading! I hope you enjoy!! also thank you to @animetrash420 for uhh beta reading my stuff,.... please ya’ll check her out she does haikyuu fluff and Free! fluff and its,,,, it’s so cute ya’ll

[fantastic-bby]

Nova

Pairing: (F)Reader x Hyunjin

Word count: 3k

Genre: Angst || Fluff || Fallen angel!Hyunjin

Summary: When you’re assigned a human, you never expected to fall as hard as you did. Out of self benefit, you ask your deities to make him an angel when he’s taken before his time. The only problem is that humans who turn into angels are given stricter rules than pure blooded angels. 

Warnings: Demons || Mentions of death 

Masterlist || Chan - Maive || Minho - Kira || Changbin - Skye || Jisung - Blair || Felix - Lia || Seungmin - Raisha || Jeongin - Avia

“Are you stupid or are you stupid?” You cross your arms over your chest as you glare at Felix. “God, the whole deity council is going to kill you!” You smack the upside of his head which he responds with a scowl. “I told you to be careful around Lia! Now you’ve gone and revealed yourself to her!”  

“It’s not just like that! She’s agreeing to become an angel. That means that I can bring her up here when I tell the council.” He’s so hopeful. You let out a sigh as you pinch your nose bridge with your thumb and index finger.

“They don’t just accept anyone anymore. Not after Hyunjin.” The mention of a former guardian makes Felix whip his head to look at you. 

“Do you… still talk to him?” He knows it’s a sensitive topic for you; having your lover turned into a fallen is nothing a guardian enjoys, but Felix is genuinely curious. 

“Sometimes it feels like just talking to him might get me thrown out as well,” you sigh. He purses his lips into a straight line. “I just wish he had been more careful with what he was doing. He didn’t even mean to lose his human.”

“Guardians can’t completely guarantee a human’s protection, we can only guide them through their lives.” Felix tries his best to reassure you, but the ache in your heart for Hyunjin still remains after all the years that have passed.

“I know that—Hyunjin knew that. He just… he just missed one too many details.” You would’ve cut off ties with Hyunjin by now if you didn’t agree with the council’s decision to kick him out at least a small bit. Every night, you find yourself on Earth, perched on the top of a tower while you watch the moon slowly move through the sky. 

“Here again?” The familiar voice makes you turn around to see Hyunjin approaching you with a small smile on his face. Your own lips curl into a smile you can’t hold back when you see your lover sitting beside you, his legs hanging off of the edge of the building. 

“I miss seeing you everyday,” you confess as you lean your head against his shoulder. 

“I’ve missed you too, my angel.” His arm moves around your waist to pull you closer to his side. Maybe it's a tragic love story—or maybe it’s just not meant to be. Whatever it is, you love Hyunjin too much to just leave him in hell, which is why you’re always in the human world. You just want to see him; even if it’s for a moment. “Has the higher ups caught you yet?” 

“Even if they do, I honestly don’t think I’ll do anything about it,” you mutter softly. “I just want to be with you again.” 

“Don’t get yourself kicked out for me, (Y/n). I know that Skye did it, but I don’t want you to come down.” Hyunjin gently moves his hands up to your head, guiding you to lay in his lap. “I’ll tell you that comparing the two, hell is not for someone like you. You’re too pure for that place.”

“What about you? You didn’t even mean to end up in there.” 

“Yeah well,” he sighs softly as he gently pushes a few strands of hair off of your face, “I can’t change the mistakes I made.” You look into his crimson eyes, your hand raising to cup his face. 

“I remember when your eyes were brown,” you softly claim. “I remember how soft and beautiful they were. Now, they look deceiving and mischievous.” Hyunjin lets out a chuckle. 

“These eyes are now made to deceive. I can’t be as soft as I used to be or else I’ll get punished by the Lord.” Your bottom lip juts out slightly into a pout. 

“My poor angel," you coo. Hyunjin blushes lightly. "You'll always be my angel—no matter what happens." 

"I've missed your touch," he hums as he takes your hand from his cheek to his lips. Hyunjin didn't mean to get his wings ripped off. It was just one too many mistakes, and it was too big of a mistake. Hyunjin remembers the day he was told that he was losing his wings. He was hoping that he would be forgiven. “Please, I won’t do it again. I-I promise. Just let me stay, please.” He was on his knees in front of the higher deity who sat before him. 

“Three strikes, Hyunjin.” They shook their head. “Your wings will be taken from you and you’ll be sent down to hell to join the fallen.” 

“Other than those, I’ve been good!” he reasoned. “P-Please, (Y/n) will be heartbroken.” Hyunjin lowered his head to the ground. “She brought me up here. I promised her I would be by her side forever.” 

“You’re of human blood. Your blood isn’t pure. The more mistakes you make, the easier it is for you to turn evil. We can’t afford that.” 

“B-But,” he sat upright to object, but the deity stopped him before he could.

“The decision is final, Hyunjin.” Once again, Hyunjin lowered to the ground. He let out a sob as he imagined having to break the news to you. You were the reason he was an angel in the first place. 

As every angel does, you were finishing an assignment; the assignment being Hyunjin. He remembers the first time you came to him clearly like it had happened so recently. You showed up while he was waiting for the bus home. Hyunjin didn’t pay you any mind at first, but when he kept seeing you so regularly, he got more and more curious about who you were. 

“Hey,” he greeted, making you turn to him. “Did you move here recently? I’ve only seen you taking this stop recently.”

“Yep,” you nod. “I moved halfway through the school year since I had to move so suddenly.” Actually showing your appearance to your humans was always your go-to method. Slithering your way into their lives made it easier for you to do your job since you could keep better track of them. 

“Ah, I was wondering why I was seeing you so suddenly. I’m Hyunjin.” Such a simple introduction that started your bizarre friendship with your human. Hyunjin was a wild card. He was always doing the most random things at the strangest hours. 

“(Y/n)! Come down to the park!” You sat up in your bed, turning on the light to check on the large clock that stood in the corner of your bedroom.

“Dude, it’s three a.m.?” Your statement only made him even more persistent. 

“Don’t question it and just come!” You pulled yourself out of bed, dragging yourself out of your home tiredly. Even though you were an angel, you still valued your sleep a ton. The fact alone was the reason why you were so grumpy as you approached Hyunjin who was sitting at the swings all by himself. Well, that fact and also the fact that you already knew he was in no actual danger. 

“Mind letting me know why you woke me up so suddenly?” You glared at him. Hyunjin dismissed your bad mood and just took your wrist in his, dragging you all the way to the lake nearby the park. 

“You have to be quiet,” he whispered as he laid stomach down onto the grass. You were too tired to question him and instead just joined him. “There,” Hyunjin pointed, the excitement lacing his voice. You turned to where he was pointing and you gasped when you saw a large deer drinking from the lake. 

“Woah,” you breathed out. It shouldn’t have been such a surprise considering the fact that the neighbourhood Hyunjin lived in was right next to quite a thick forest. “It looks so pretty,” you claimed. Hyunjin nodded silently beside you. 

“I always come out here in the middle of the night since the deer around this area only seem to come out at night to drink from the lake.” He turned to you, his mind filling with glee at the realisation that he now had someone who could join him in watching the deer. 

“That makes sense. There’s no humans around to scare them off,” your words were soft and were mostly just you thinking out loud, but it made him smile. The two of you watched the deer until it hopped off into the forest, disappearing from your line of sight. By then, you were ready to just head home and plop yourself back into your bed, but it seemed as though Hyunjin had other plans. “Hyunjin, if I eat now and go to sleep, my face is gonna get all puffy when I wake up,” you whined as you let the brown haired boy drag you to a nearby convenience store. 

“Then just don’t sleep,” he shrugged, “you sleep early anyway. Six hours of sleep is not bad.”

“I sleep early because I want to sleep more,” you groaned. Once again, Hyunjin dismissed your mood and just pulled you into the instant food aisle. You watched as he grabbed two cups of instant noodles before running to the large fridges to pull out two bottles of iced tea, heading to the counter where you just watched lazily. 

Once he came back with the noodles, you cooked them with the water from the large water boiler. “Inside or outside?” Hyunjin questioned.

“Inside’s too cold,” you simply stated. He nodded without another word, the both of you making your way outside to where a small plastic table was. You silently ate together. The silence was comfortable; that was the first thing Hyunjin noted about you. You didn’t need a lot of things to be comfortable. You wouldn’t exactly deny it either. Even though you were an angel, you preferred more simple things. You didn’t treat your position as an otherworldly being as such a big thing. You just liked food and sleep. 

Hyunjin appreciated that you did. It really didn’t take much for him to fall in love. Six years worth of friendship and he realised he just loved everything about you. You would be lying if you didn’t love him back. He made you feel safe. There was a charm about Hyunjin that was strong enough to make an angel fall in love with him. 

“I think I love you,” he confessed when he broke the kiss. You stared at him, your mind battling between your heart until your heart made the decision for you. 

“I think I love you, too.” You had to admit that you had never seen Hyunjin happier than when you confessed your love on the beach, the sound of the waves crashing against the shoreline and the slowly rising sun just adding to the ambiance that was nothing less than romantic. 

“I can’t believe it took us six years before we realised it,” Hyunjin chuckled. You chuckled as well, scooching yourself closer to him where you leaned your head onto his bare shoulder. 

“I know right,” you muttered. You knew the consequences of dating a human. You just had to hope that the deities wouldn’t figure out—even though you knew very well that they watch over the entire world—and that you could play it out smoothly. 

When a few months passed and you still haven’t heard anything from the higher ups, you just assumed that you were in somewhat of a greenlight. The only thing was that Hyunjin was getting more and more prone to injuries. There was a weird energy surrounding your human. Something that didn’t feel like energy from an evil entity, but energy that just didn’t sit right with you.  

At one point, he got so hurt that he was taken way before his time. Which was why you made a deal with the council. Well, you honestly did it because you were in love with him. “He’s been good.” The higher deity raised an eyebrow. 

“You’re a good angel, (Y/n).You’ve never failed a task and we assume that this is the first time you’ve ever courted a human.” Without much other objections, the deities gave you the responsibility of bringing Hyunjin up to heaven with you. 

“W-Where are we?” he questioned nervously. 

“I brought you to my real home,” you hummed. With you by his side, Hyunjin slowly started to ease into his new surroundings, his fear slowly switching to curiosity. 

“So, you were my guardian angel?” he asked when you had explained everything. You nodded. “And you asked the deities to give me a chance as a guardian too?” You nodded once again. “Does this mean we get to spend the rest of our time together?” 

“Exactly why I asked for you to become a guardian. You don’t even have to get another home, you can live with me like how we did before on Earth.” Your suggestion made him smile widely. 

“As long as I get to be with you, my angel.” It was funny to you that Hyunjin gave you ‘angel’ as a pet name without even knowing what you truly were. “Well, it was fitting for you then and it’s even more fitting for you now,” he chuckled when you brought it up to him. 

You stuck by Hyunjin’s side for the first few of his humans, helping him to understand what he should and shouldn’t do when he’s on the job. Your lover watched how you worked intently, wanting to do it right to be able to stay with you. Humans were given less chances than angels did only because the deities knew that trust towards humans had a chance of being more unstable compared to angels. 

They simply lacked the purity that angels were created with. 

“You have to be careful with this,” you advised as you watched him grant his human dreams. 

“Like that?” he turned to you. You nodded with a smile.

“Exactly like that, my love.” Hyunjin was a fast learner and that you were mildly glad of. He caught onto what he had to do very easily and soon, you didn't even need to stick by his side. Instead, the deities decided that separating the two of you would be fruitless and simply assigned humans in the same area so that the two of you would end up staying in the same home. 

"How's Chia?” you asked when Hyunjin stepped into your shared home. When he looks at you with a completely pale face, you realise something must’ve happened. 

“S-She—Fallens came—t-t-they killed her,” he stammered out before completely breaking down. Your eyes widened and you quickly moved to his side, pulling him into your embrace and wrapping your wings around him for comfort. “I-I didn’t know what to do,” Hyunjin hiccuped, “I-I-I thought I c-could’ve saved her.” You bit your lip as you thought about it. Chia would be his first strike. 

“It’s okay, love,” you hushed softly, “it’ll be okay. It’s just a hiccup in your work. We’ll get you back on track, okay?” You wondered why he didn’t just ask you for help. You didn’t give that wonder much thought—your attention moving to soothe him because you knew that he would have to talk to the deities about this. “We can figure this out, Jinnie.” You held him tightly against you, letting him cry out his feelings. Losing the first human is rough for every angel. That fear that wells up inside of you when you realise just how bad losing a human really is… it’s pulled a few guardians out of their positions. 

It took a while before Hyunjin was ready for another assignment. That time, he was less confident in himself and had asked you to watch over him. You agreed, of course. You just didn’t want him to lose his confidence completely and have himself thrown out of heaven. 

Over time, he slowly regained his confidence with watching over humans. Some of them lasted longer than others and some only lasted a few years, but Hyunjin was more careful with them. That is, until he banished a fallen angel on sight. 

“Hyunjin! You can’t just do that!” you scolded frantically when you saw the fallen angel disappear into black smoke. 

“I-I panicked!” He turned to you with wide, scared eyes. That was strike two and you knew the deities were already starting to get wary of Hyunjin. The third strike was him being too careful. He had accidentally revealed himself to his human and let them slip past his fingers into the influence of a fallen angel. It just so happened that your human at the time was halfway across the world from your lover, preventing you from helping him in any form. “P-Please don’t cry,” he whimpered when he saw the tears streaming down your face. “Please, (Y/n),” Hyunjin took a step closer to you, his hands moving to cup your face. “I’m so sorry, my angel.” Your arms wrapped around his waist, hugging him tightly. 

“T-They’re being t-too unfair,” you sobbed against his chest.

“It’s the rules,” he swallowed thickly. He was willing himself not to cry in front of you—not when you were already so broken with him having to leave. “Every chance I get, I will try to see you.” Hyunjin’s words only made you hold him tighter. You didn’t want him to leave; not when you brought him up to be with him forever. 

“P-Please,” you whimpered, “d-don’t leave me, Hyunjin.” 

“I have to go, (Y/n),” he muttered. “If I don’t leave on my own, they’ll banish me and I won’t be able to enter the human world either.” Hyunjin pulled away to look you in the eye. “They can’t stop us from meeting. As long as I still love you and you still love me, that’s all that matters.” He pulled you into his chest once again, peppering the top of your head with soft kisses. “I’m sorry, my angel. I’m sorry I disappointed you,” he apologised once more before he disappeared. You crumbled to the ground without Hyunjin to support you, your dream of having him be a guardian by your side ripped out of your hands. 

“I love you, Hyunjin,” you sobbed, bringing your knees to your chest as you allowed yourself to break down in the living room of your shared home.

[songsformonkeys]

A Tiny Piece of the World Called Home - (Ezra x reader) chapter 2

pairing: Ezra x reader

summary: "Just like the first of the Terras, Icarus had precisely one moon. It was a desolate and barren place, gray rocks and dust as far as the eye could see. It was cold and unwelcoming and you felt a certain kinship to it. It wasn't a hostile place but it gave you nothing for free. For as long as you could remember, you had wanted to go there."

Reader and Ezra end up as partners on a mining job and are forced to live together in close proximity on a small moon base.

rating: explicit

warnings: smut

notes: trying to post all my ao3 stories to tumblr as well so this isn’t a new story and some of you might have already read it. Chapter 1 is here

Chapter 2

While Ezra had been watching you from the very start, it was only now that you had started to actually watch him back. And the more you watched, the more details you discovered about your roommate and work partner. For example, he walked around barefoot in the base a disconcerting amount of time, he was ambidextrous, liked to take long showers, that sometimes left you without any hot water but with a strong urge to strangle him, and he snored when he slept on his stomach. That last bit you knew partly because Ezra liked to take a nap after lunch and partly because the small base offered very little in the way of privacy. You shared every living space and the only way to get away from each other was to hide in the bathroom. In the beginning, Ezra must have thought you suffered from terrible gastrointestinal problems considering how much time you'd spent in there.

Ezra had definitely noticed you watching, you had been able to tell by the way his mouth always curved into a smug smile when he caught your eyes lingering, but he hadn't said anything about it and so neither had you. Instead, the two of you danced around each other while Ezra kept up his usual out loud stream of consciousness.

“Do you enjoy art? I went to a museum once. Sculptures, paintings, VRs, soundscapes, and what have you. They had everything! Of course, I'd never been before so I had no idea. Anyway, I had just landed after a job and was looking for a way to spend my well-earned freedom. So I went. And let me tell you, Birdie, I came out of that establishment a changed man. Now, you know I'm a man of emotion, I ain't ashamed to admit that, but I wept like a small child in there. Did you ever get so moved by something that it consumes your whole being? It's part of the reason why I travel. I have the privilege of seeing the most wondrous of places. The majority of them try their very damned hardest to kill me but you have got to admit that there's a certain poetic beauty in that too. Something so beautiful doing their very best to keep people from seeing it...”

You had been tinkering with the temperature-settings on the water-boiler and had only half paid attention to what Ezra was saying. Something about arts and planets and wanting to kill him. You looked up when he went quiet. That was usually your cue to say something or hum or nod before he would continue but this time Ezra was watching you intently with the faintest of smiles on his lips. The scrutiny made you a little nervous and you wished you had listened more closely.

“...yes?” you guessed, hoping that it would be an appropriate response to what he'd just said. Ezra's smile widened and clearly seizing the opportunity of having your attention, he went on.

“Where's your favorite place in the world, Birdie?”

“Here,” you stated simply and returned your focus to the water boiler. Out of the corner of your eyes, you saw Ezra turn and look out through the window of your small base. He wouldn't get it. No one else had.

“It is quite a marvelous place to behold, isn't it? The planes and the ridges over on that horizon. Never the same, no matter where you turn your eye to. And I know you prefer the sunsets and they are grand indeed but for me, it's the sunrises that does it. Those first rays of sunlight make the whole planet look like it's covered in silver. Takes my breath away every morning.”

You had stopped again to just look at Ezra as he described the planet he was watching outside the window. There was a fondness to his face when he spoke and it tugged on your heartstrings like it was part of you that he was complimenting. As the light from outside hit his face you found yourself thinking that Ezra was quite a wondrous sight to behold too. Rough and rugged, sure, but there was a certain beauty to him. In profile, the curve of his nose and the uneven spikes of his hair reminded you of those very same ridges he'd mentioned just a moment ago. Sharp and jagged. And yet other parts of him seemed way too soft, in comparison. His eyes which, once he'd gotten over the initial apprehension of you, held a sort of kindness that you had not often seen. The scars on his back and torso, that almost glowed like white lines when he undressed in the evening, and told a story of a vulnerability that his usual larger-than-life persona did its best to cover up.

Ezra caught you looking at him and you quickly looked away.

If you happened to wake up an hour earlier the next morning, it was pure coincidence. And when Ezra handed you a cup of coffee and opened his mouth to, no doubt, claim otherwise you glared at him so hard that he raised his hands in surrender before closing his mouth again and pouring himself some coffee.

 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 Mining Ander was hard work. Much harder than what most people assumed. They only saw the finished product and figured that the delicate ore must be mined in an equally delicate manner. What they always failed to take into consideration was the several feet of stone and rock that you had to drill through to even get close to the Ander.

The big mechanic drill helped but it was still a grueling work, and you loved it. You loved feeling the strain in your muscles and the way they ached after a long day of work. The smell of sweat in an air-tight suit was something you definitely could have done without, although it did make the fresh air back at the base seem all the sweeter.

Ezra was a hard worker too, which was something you appreciated about him. He never shied away from the strenuous work, despite his occasional verbal complaints about the working conditions, and a couple of hours into the workday his grunts over the comms became a familiar background noise.

You took turns manning the drill while the other person carried the discarded bits of rock away from the hole in the ground and over to the pile which had been growing steadily larger over the duration of your shift.

Most days you paused for lunch but there were days when neither of you wanted to pause what you were doing and you ended up working way too late. Those were the very few days when Ezra stayed mostly silent before it was time for bed. In the beginning, you had cherished those moments like nobody's business but as time went on you found yourself almost missing his steady stream of words and comments.

This particular day was shaping up to be one of those days. Lunch was supposed to have happened some time ago but just as you had been about to call for a break, Ezra had cheered and declared that he'd discovered something purple and gleaming. So instead of stopping, you doubled your efforts the get the ore out.

The eagerness to get to the Ander as quickly as possible might have been what did it. Ezra pushed the drill a little too hard into the ground and suddenly there was a loud snap and you started.

It felt like someone had cracked a whip against your lower leg and you yelped. The pain was followed almost immediately by a whooshing sound and you met Ezra's widening eyes before both of you looked down at the tear in your suit, where oxygen was rapidly leaking out.

“Fuck!” you cursed loudly and quickly crouched to press your hands against the hole on the fabric. Ezra hurriedly jumped down from the driver's seat of the drill and ran over to you.

“We need to get you inside,” he stated, unnecessarily, and you had half a mind to make a rude remark about him stating the obvious. But you held your tongue. Maybe the quick decrease in oxygen was making you soft.

Keeping both of your hands wrapped around your calf, to keep the pressure on the wound and the integrity of your suit, made it impossible to walk. Ezra realized this too and wasted no time picking you up and carrying you. You felt grateful for the decreased gravity since it allowed him to sprint back to the airlock in no time, despite carrying a fully grown person in his arms. Your helmets bumped together in an uneven rhythm as he ran. You listened to his sharp breaths as he ran. They were faster than usual and you didn't think it was from the effort of carrying you. He was worried, you realized and you felt a bit touched that he cared this much. It was a bit excessive, of course. This wasn't the first injury you'd suffered during your shifts on the moon. There was plenty enough oxygen in the suit to get you back to the base and plenty enough blood in your body so that even if he'd sliced your whole leg of you were pretty sure you would have been fine. And since you very much felt your leg still being attached, there wasn't really any cause for alarm. You told Ezra as much but he didn't slow down and you could tell that he didn't quite trust your abilities to medically assess yourself.

“Let me remind you that it took you almost a full day to confess that you'd cut yourself on the kitchen knife when we first got here,” Ezra reminded you, and fine, that was a somewhat fair point but you hadn't known him back then and in your defense, you probably would have been fine even if he hadn't discovered the cut and forced you to let him redress it. You said nothing more. If he wanted to run himself tired for no reason then he was, by all means, welcome to do so.

 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 Once inside, he set you down and instructed you to strip. For once in your life, you did what you were told without arguing and as Ezra rummaged around in one of the cupboards for a medkit, you shrugged out of your spacesuit. Your lower leg and foot felt wet and as you pulled it out of the leg of the suit you winced with pain. There was more blood than you had anticipated and you suddenly felt a little light-headed. You weren't afraid of blood but you weren't exposed to bloody injuries all that often either and you preferred your own body parts without them.

You wiggled out of your pants as well and flopped down on a chair. Ezra had struck gold with his search and returned to your side a second later. You gripped his shoulder as he knelt in front of you. A warning for him not to set his knee down in the small puddle of blood that had formed on the floor in front of you. Ezra not only missed the warning but also interpreted your gesture in a completely different manner.

“Don't you worry, Little Bird,” he assured you, as if you were the one who needed comforting, “We'll have you patched up and in tip-top condition again in no time.” He began wiping the skin around the wound clean. You winced a little in anticipation of the pain that never really came. Ezra's hands were surprisingly gentle as he cleaned away the blood. Ezra always surprised you with that. For some reason you always expected him to be rough, but he never was. Whether he was preparing food, reading one your books that he'd stolen or helping you into your suit every morning, he always did everything with a gentleness like he was handling something precious.

His brow was furrowed as he worked, though more from concentration than from worry, you noted and was pleased that he seemed to have reached the same conclusion that you had on the way to the base; that there was no immediate danger to your life. Once he'd cleaned the blood away it turned out that the cut wasn't very deep at all. It was about three inches long but shallow enough that Ezra could simply tape it shut before sealing it with a big anti-bacterial bandaid. He wiped your blood from his hands as best he could and let out a slow breath.

“You gave me quite a fright there, Little Bird,” he confessed and looked up from where he was still sitting at your feet. One of his arms was resting against your bare leg.

“I told you I would be fine,” you reminded him.

“Well, you down-play things and therefore are not to be trusted on matters like this.”

“I do not!” you protested. Ezra cleared his throat and held up his index finger to begin counting.

“It's just a short walk from here, Ezra. Took us three hours. I just nicked my finger. I cleaned that wound too and I'm fairly certain I saw bone. The coffee is a little bit hot. I couldn't taste anything for two days afterwards. I'm not that cold. Your lips matched the Ander... do you wish for me to continue? Because I've got more examples if you need 'em, Birdie”

You were watching Ezra with indignation and coughed out a laugh. You could hardly be held responsible for him taking every comment you made quite so literally.

“Says the man who exaggerates just about everything,” you countered

Ezra raised his eyebrows in confusion, as if this was the most preposterous accusation he'd ever heard. You were pretty sure he was faking it but you still took the bite.

“You beg me to shoot you every afternoon when I wake you up from your nap. You almost cry every time we strike Ander and how many times have you had the finest meal of your life since you got here?”

Ezra shook his head but you could see the small smile he was trying to hide.

“I am an appreciative man, Birdie. What can I say...” he said with a shrug and yes, he was definitely trying to rile you up.

“Well, appreciate this,” you said and jokingly flipped him off.

“I would appreciate every last part of you if you weren't so damn stubborn.”

You opened your mouth to toss another semi-insult back at him before the words fully registered, making you blink and stutter out a “W-what?” instead.

“I believe you heard me perfectly well,” Ezra answered, holding his ground. You felt your cheeks flush from the boldness of his comment. Even if he didn't realize how unprofessional that joke was, you certainly did and you were at a loss for words. Your usually so sharp tongue had, for once and with the worst timing, failed you. Every witty retort you began to come up with were instantly interrupted by mental images of Ezra making good on the comment he'd made. So what if you had entertained the thought previously? You and he were two people stuck in a small space which allowed little or no room for any sort of release in that department. The mind was bound to go a little crazy after a while. It had happened with previous work partners too. And it was understood by everyone that it wasn't anything to act or even comment upon. Understood by everyone except Ezra that was.

“You have been watching me. There are many things about you which are subtle, but that has not been one of them,” he said. There was something curious in his eyes as he watched you. He was searching your face for any indication whether he was reading the situation right or not. You weren't sure at all what expression you face did show but you were quite certain it wasn't disgust or revulsion, partly because those weren't the emotions you were actually feeling right now but more importantly because you were 100% certain that Ezra would have backed off if he'd detected any aversion on your part. And Ezra remained firmly where he was, on his knees in front of you, looking up at your face with a look on his face that you vaguely recognized.

You had gotten quite good at reading Ezra during your time on the base. This look was something you'd only seen in fleeting glances when he thought you weren't looking and when you both undressed for bed in the evenings. It was a look you hadn't quite been able to read. But now he was looking you dead in the eye and it was clear as day; Ezra wanted you. The realization made heat pool low in your stomach and if truth were to be told, you wanted Ezra too. Had for a while, now that you allowed yourself to admit it.

“I have,” you admitted and Ezra let out a breath you hadn't noticed he was holding.

“And did all that watching reward you with any new insights, Little Bird?” he asked, sitting up a little straighter and placing his other hand on your thigh. Your skin felt like it was buzzing where his hand was resting. His thumb began rubbing small circles against the skin of the inside of your thigh, just above the knee. It felt wonderful but was nowhere near enough and if Ezra was gonna give another monologue right now, you were pretty sure you wouldn't be able to handle it.

“For Kevva's sake, Ezra, can we save this conversation for later and just... do something!” You weren't necessarily proud of the shrill note of desperation to your voice but a dangerous smile spread across Ezra's face and his grip on you tightened. In a torturously slow movement, he pushed your legs further apart and you had to grip the edge of your seat hard to keep yourself from yanking him forward. He moved closer, hands running up the outside of your thighs, and he leaned down to place a kiss halfway up your thigh. Then another one, slightly higher. Then, because he was Ezra and of course he just couldn't help himself, he stopped and looked up at you.

“I must confess that thoughts of this have crossed my mind more than once,” he said, voice rough like sandpaper and utterly delicious. But there were so many better things for that mouth to be doing right now, other than talking.

“Ezra, please,” you groaned, more out of frustration than arousal, but from the smile Ezra gave you he definitely interpreted it as the latter. You didn't care because it had the intended effect regardless and a moment later Ezra's mouth was back on your skin, kissing its way higher and higher up on your thigh.

When his lips finally brushed, feather-light, over the fabric of your underwear it almost had you shooting off your chair. Luckily Ezra had anticipated this and his hands were now firmly placed on your hips, holding you in place. Your first instinct had been to close your legs, the jolt of sensation almost being too much, but Ezra's broad shoulders made that impossible and as he pressed his lips against the fabric a second time at was all you could do to hold back the needy whimpers that threatened to spill out with every breath. Ezra glanced up at you and you could feel the bastard smiling against you.

He pulled back and you were ready to make loud complaints about this lousy decision before you realized that he'd only pulled back in order to get you out of your underwear. You let him slide the piece of clothing down your legs then yelped a little in surprise as he promptly lifted both your legs and hooked them over his shoulders. Any comments on the manhandling died in your throat a moment later when his mouth found its way back to the prize and he licked a broad stripe across your folds. It had been quite some time since anyone had touched you in this way. Maybe that was it, or maybe it was just that Ezra really knew what he was doing, but as his mouth continued to explore, alternating between licking and kissing and sucking, your entire body felt like it was shaking. Your knuckles were white from how hard you were gripping the chair and your breaths escaped you in ragged huffs of air, mingled with the occasional whimpers that you had given up on holding back. The vocal feedback only seemed to encourage Ezra and he doubled his efforts.

It was too much and not enough at the same time. You felt like you would slap him if he stopped but, at the same time, you weren't sure you could handle this much longer. All your higher brain functioning had gone out the window and flown off into space. Your whole world had narrowed down to the sensations of your body and, even more specifically, the place between your legs where Ezra's clever tongue had all your nerve-endings going off like fireworks. And Ezra showed no signs of stopping until he'd made you come apart completely. Something which was rapidly approaching.

You tried warning him, managed to grip his forearm and push a little while stuttering out his name, but he only held you tighter and flicked his tongue over your clit in a way that turned the last vowel of his name into a cry of pleasure as you came. Ezra continued his ministrations and his tongue carried you through the pulsating waves of your orgasm.

When he finally pulled back and met your gaze, you were speechless. Ezra, true to form, was the first to comment.

“You truly are a vision like this, Birdie,” he said with awe in his voice and you gave him a weak laugh. Vision, you suspected, was hardly the most fitting description for you right now. Mess, more likely. You could feel how flushed your cheeks were and your lips must be bitten raw by this point. But Ezra was watching you with a mix of lust and wonder and as his gaze wandered lower he looked like he was ready for another round. You suspected that you might actually die this time if he did.

So, on legs that felt like jelly, you slid off the chair and onto his lap. The taped wound on your calf smarted but Ezra caught you before your knees slammed against the floor. His breath hitched in his throat as your weight pressed against the hardness in his pants and his hips bucked slightly, seemingly out of their own accord.

You wrapped your arms around Ezra's neck and pulled him in for a kiss. You could taste yourself on his tongue and lips and you greedily licked into his mouth, wanting to taste more, taste him. Rolling your hips against him earned you another stuttered breath and a moan from Ezra. He mumbled something against your lips and you had every intention of ignoring it in favor of continued kissing but Ezra pulled back and broke the kiss. You made a noise of complaint, which made him laugh.

“Sincerest apologies, Little Bird, but if I am to make good on my promise to appreciate every part of you we are going to have to pace ourselves, just a fraction...”

You were about to protest. To hell with pacing yourselves when you had Ezra's mouth only inches from yours! Perhaps sensing your usual stubbornness and unwillingness to cooperate returning, Ezra played dirty and reached down to press the tip of his finger gently against your opening.

“Fuck...” you shuddered, unsure if the next word was gonna be you, me or just fuck in general.

“That is what I am arguing for here, beautiful. But you and I are both still way too dressed for what I'm hoping comes next and, for the sake of your knees and my back, perhaps we could relocate ourselves to the relative comfort of my bed?”

As much as it pained you to admit, Ezra did have a point and, in a move that required more energy and coordination that it usually did, you climbed off him and stood up. Ezra got to his feet as well. He took your hand and kissed each of your fingers softly in a way that somehow felt more intimate than the place he'd been kissing a minute or two ago.

“Allow me to take you to bed?” he asked, even though you were under the impression that this had already been established as the next destination. You nodded impatiently and pushed him slowly backwards towards the bedroom.

“Take me to the bed or the kitchen table or back to the floor, Ezra. I don't care, I just... I just need you.”

Ezra's eyes darkened with lust and a moment later he was the one dragging you towards the beds. The two of you stopped just before you crashed onto Ezra's bunk, realizing that undressing might be a slightly easier endeavor before you were both tangled up on the small bed.

Ezra was quicker getting to your clothes than you were at getting to his and he pulled your shirt and then your sports bra over your head and tossed it to the side. You were fully naked now, while he was still fully dressed, if a little disheveled-looking. The contrast made you feel all the more undressed. Ezra watched you, with that same appreciation as before.

“I have imagined this. What you would look like... so gorgeous. Even in that spacesuit, you managed to drive me up the walls crazy. Can barely keep my hands off you,” he mumbled.

“So how about you don't,” you suggested. You were more than ready for this, it was just Ezra that needed to get with the program. He didn't need to compliment and woo you. He just needed to touch you.

You reached for his shirt, made quick work of getting rid of it before you made equally quick work of his pants and underwear. Now you were both naked and you took a moment to appreciate the newly revealed areas of skin. Ezra twitched as if it had been your hands and not your eyes which were caressing his body. You took a step closer.

“I want you to fuck me, Ezra,” you stated, perhaps a tad too matter-of-factly but Ezra made a noise that could only be described as a growl and crashed your mouths together again. Without the layers of clothes between you, your hands were free to roam and you tried touching every bit of skin that you could reach, slowly circling lower and lower, towards where you knew he wanted your touch the most. Ezra was giving as good as he was getting and when it was his impatience's turn to take hold, he grabbed your ass and pulled you fully against himself with a moan. You pushed him back and finally onto the bed. He laid down and watched, with almost pitch-black eyes, as you crawled on top of him and straddled his thighs.

He began talking again, nothing coherent this time, and you leaned forward to press a kiss to his lips, effectively silencing him. Ezra seized the opportunity to grab your hips and pull you a little higher. You both moaned into each other's mouths as your folds dragged along his length.

“In me,” you whispered and Ezra reached down to position himself against your opening. In the slowest pace you could bring yourself to, you began lowering yourself onto him. Ezra's eyes looked like they were about to roll back in their sockets and he said your name, followed by a whole string of curses, some of which you had never heard before.

You stilled for a moment once he was fully inside you, letting yourself adjust slightly to the sensation, then you rose up to let him slide almost all the way out before lowering yourself again. The pace was much slower than what either of you wanted but if he was feeling anywhere near as needy for more as you did, then it would be worth it.

It seemed that he was because the very next thing out of Ezra's mouth was a begging plea.

“Please, Birdie,” he said and he sounded wrecked. You took pity on him, both for his sake and for your own. You couldn't handle this slow pace for a second longer either. Speeding up, you heard the relief in Ezra's breathing and he placed his hands on your hips again to help guide you into a quicker pace.

The sensation wasn't quite as overwhelming when you were the one in control but you could still feel your pleasure building every time Ezra slid back into you. His moans were becoming more and more ragged and you weren't sure how much longer he was gonna last. Just as you were about to ask, he wrapped his arms around your torso and pulled you down for a kiss. The move gave him a little more leverage to move his hips and you gasped as he snapped his hips up, making him hit a whole new spot inside you. He did it again. And again. And you had to take back the thought you'd just had about the sensation not being overwhelming. You met his thrusts as best you could, your rhythm becoming more and more sloppy the closer the two of you got to climax.

In the end, you cracked first. Pushed over the edge by the surprise of Ezra latching onto the skin of your neck and sucking, hard enough to leave a mark. As your second orgasm rushed through you, you felt Ezra follow and he moaned loudly as he came, still inside you. He continued thrusting a few more times before he slowed down to a stop.

The stillness that followed, as you had untangled slightly before pulling each other close again, was interrupted only by your panting breaths...and of course...

“If I were to die now, I'd die a happy and content man,” Ezra mumbled, his hand drawing patterns against your back.

“Dying now would be a breach of contract,” you informed him, with a small smile, “We still have a fifth of our rotation left before we're heading back for Icarus.”

“Only a fifth?” Ezra asked and you watched his brow furrow as he did the math.

“'fraid so.”

Ezra turned and gave you a devilish grin

“Then I propose we attempt to make the very most of that fifth, or what do say, Birdie?”

As his hand trailed lower, you couldn't help but nod.

~~~~~~~~~~~

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