#I’ve never had a physical reaction to a mental image or sounds before | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

amitlee · 3 years

Note

I love you're writing ! And been wondering for a while if i could send an ask so here i am!, I was wondering if you could do young tommy and techno if ya haven't! <3 it would be adorable¡ Thank you for your time!!! :)

Treasure Unimaginable

Warnings: none

Summary: Tommy gets left with Techno and has attachment issues to Phil. Techno is left to comfort 7 year old Tommy

Thank you so much for the request, I hope you all enjoy it💕

———————————————————————

Phil walked down the hallway to Technoblade’s room. He and Wilbur had to go into town today and wouldn’t be able to take Tommy, so someone had to watch him. Phil knew Tommy had a hard time being away from his father, which is why he was going to tell Techno a little in advance. He knocked on the door three times. “Tech?” He called.

He heard a muffled noise telling him to come in and opened the door. He stepped over the threshold into the room, taking in the tidy appearance. Techno’s room was rather empty, his style being close to minimalism.

“Hey, Tech. You busy?”

Techno set his book aside and turned his full attention to Phil. “No. Why?” He asked.

Phil smiled. “I’m going into town with Wil. Do you mind watching Tommy until we get back? It won’t be long.”

Techno sighed, thinking about it for a moment before looking back at Phil. Phil was basically pleading with his eyes. Techno looked away quickly, but couldn’t find it in his heart to say no. “Yeah. I guess that’d be alright.”

Phil beamed, happiness radiating off of him. “Thanks, mate! He’s asleep right now, so me and Wil are gonna run. He’ll probably be up in half an hour or so.”

Techno grunted, picking his book back up and settling back down in his bed. “Alright. See you later, dad.”

Phil’s smile got even wider and he held himself back from emitting a happy trill. “See you in a little, son.” He closed the door and went to collect Wilbur.

If Techno was honest, he’d completely forgotten he was supposed to be watching Tommy until a small voice came from the hallway.

“Phil?” A sleepy voice called.

Techno sat up and yelled back, “In here, Tommy.”

After a moment, the thudding of feet was heard and Tommy carefully opened the door. He looked wearily at Techno, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

The seven year old was the embodiment of adorable. He had clearly just woken up, with his hair resembling a bird's nest, he had a blanket draped over his shoulders, and was holding onto a bear plushie.

Tommy looked around the room, noticing the absence of his father’s presence. He looked back to Techno, now a little more awake. “Where’s Phil?” He asked.

“He left to go to town with Wilbur. They’ll be back soon.” He watched as Tommy tried to understand and act tough in front of his oldest brother.

“Okay.” Tommy said with a wobbly voice.

Techno’s head shot up to look at the boy, he was still wiping his eyes, but there were tears coming out instead.

“Hey.” Techno said as gently as he could, which wasn’t very gentle but was a good effort, “Come sit.” He patted his bed.

Tommy looked between the door and Techno. His bed looked soft. What he lacked in room decor, he made up for in comfortable blankets, pillows, and even a few plushies.

Eventually, Tommy closed the door behind him and came to sit on the bed. Techno sat up to sit beside Tommy. They sat in silence. It was slightly uncomfortable. Techno was pretty sure he could hear his own blood running through his veins. “So.” He said, hoping Tommy had something to say.

He did. “Do you know when dad will be back?” Tommy asked, looking up at Techno with saddened eyes.

Techno smiled, “Miss him already?”

Tommy nodded.

“I’m not really sure.” Techno hummed, “It won’t be long, there isn’t much to do in the town. I’m sure they went for groceries.”

Tommy wasn’t satisfied by this answer, still looking for a time.

Techno thought on his toes, “They may have gone to the dentist. I think I heard dad talking about Wil needing to get a shot or two.” It was a complete lie, but if it made Tommy glad he was here instead of with them, it would be worth it.

Tommy’s eyes widened. Techno chuckled at the reaction, laying on his back. “Yeah.”

Tommy followed, laying next to Techno. They fell back into silence, this time a little more comfortable. Techno was actually just about to fall asleep when he felt something rest on his arm.

It was Tommy, he’d gotten closer so he could cuddle up next to Techno. Techno had no idea how to react, not very used to physical affection. His brooding personality and figure pushed the possibility of him being vulnerable into the back of his mind.

Images flashed through his mind. Him being a younger and having Wilbur practically attached to him at all times. Wilbur was a very affectionate person, while Techno preferred to show his love through gifts and acts of service.

He didn’t have much experience with giving affection either, so he was rather cross at what he was supposed to do to help calm his little brother.

He patted Tommy’s head gently a few times, awkwardly. This, surprisingly, got a giggle from Tommy.

“What are you laughing about?”

“It’s just so weird.”

“What’s weird?” Techno had thought he’d done pretty well.

“You!” Tommy said, without realizing what it sounded like.

Techno hummed. “I think you,” he poked Tommy’s stomach to emphasize, “are pretty weird too.”

Tommy giggled again, “Am not!” He said, snuggling closer.

“Are too!”

“Am not!”

“Are too!”

“Not!”

“Are!”

“Not! Not not not nohohot-“

The playful argument was cut off when Techno spidered around Tommy’s stomach. Making the child squeal and curl up.

“That’s a little weird. Do you hear something, Tommy? Tommy, where’d you go?” Techno made a show of trying to find Tommy. He lifted the boy up slightly by his hips, squeezing them gently as he went. He pretended to check under Tommy, to find Tommy, only to come up empty handed.

“Oh no, what’ll I ever do. Phil will be so upset I lost him.” Techno said. He wiggled his fingers over Tommy’s ribs, delighted by the sound of his slightly hysterical laughter.

Tommy was feeling much better, he’d never gotten to be playful with his brother like this. The tingling sensations were very pleasant, even though they were intense. His ribs had always been a bad spot, Phil had made sure to use it against him a few times.

Techno moved down to Tommy’s sides, gasping, “Tommy! There you are!”

Tommy’s giggles died down but became more hysterical at the playful tone Techno had acquired.

“That’s weird, you got all giggly all of a sudden. Is something wrong?”

Tommy laughed harder, “Yohohou’re tihihickling me!”

Techno slowed his fingers, “Oh. Am I?” The awkward atmosphere was completely gone, now replaced with a relaxing, loving feeling that swirled around the room.

“Yehehes.” Tommy said, catching his breath with a smile still stuck to his face.

Techno stopped his movements completely, now just resting his hand on Tommy's stomach. “My apologies.” He teased, poking his sides once more before retracting his hand.

“It’s oKAY, Tehehech.”

The peaceful silence encased them once again as the two calmed down. Tommy, even though he was content, couldn’t help but think that his father and brother weren’t here. It made the house feel empty and his heart a little heavier.

“Tech?” He called.

Techno looked down to make eye contact with Tommy, “Yes?” He answered.

“Can you do it again?”

Techno wasn’t really sure what he meant.

“Tickles, please?” Tommy asked. Techno mentally awed, the boy was still young enough that he had no idea of shame or embarrassment. The purity of the situation made Techno have a strong urge to protect Tommy from anything that may befall him. He promised himself that no matter what, he’d never let anything happen to Tommy. The bittersweet future would simply have to change for him.

“Sure. You want to hear a story?”

Tommy smiled, butterflies erupting in his stomach. “Yes.”

Techno smiled. “Long, long ago. There was a traveler named Rincewind. He went to the faraway lands of Anhk to search for buried treasure and guess what he found?”

“What?”

“A map.” Techno paused. He rested his pointer finger on Tommy’s belly, beginning to trace the outline of a simple map.

“The map was very big,” he circled up to Tommy’s ribs, tracing around the bones. Tommy giggled, wiggling despite trying to stay still.

“And in the center was an X,” Techno wiggled a finger in Tommy’s belly button quickly, eliciting a loud squeal followed by peels of laughter. He withdrew it and continued to make out the map.

“The X was the final destination for Rincewind. There he would find treasure unimaginable. But he had to get there first. First, he went over the sea,” Techno swirled his fingers to make the motion of waves. Tommy squirmed away, only to be caught and put back with Techno, “Ah ah ah, we’re not done yet.”

“Ihihit tihihickles!” Tommy giggled out, hiding his face in his hands.

“Oh! There’s the next obstacle, the cave of darkness.” Techno shot both hands into Tommy’s exposed underarms, wiggling his fingers softly.

Tommy screeched, “TEHEHECHNOHO! NAHAHAT THAHAHAT! GEHEHET HIM OHOHOUT OF THEHEHERE!”

Techno laughed with him, “Alright alright,” he withdrew his hands, leaving Tommy panting, “His visit to the cave was cut short, so he headed down to the treasure.”

Tommy giggled in anticipation as Techno began circling around his belly button, getting closer with each circle.

“’Finally’, Rincewind said, ‘I’ve waited years for this treasure. Delicious, yummy treasure.’ And he began to dig up the treasure.” Techno narrated as he slowly pulled up Tommy’s shirt to expose his belly button.

“And at last, he was able to dig into his treasure of,” He paused for dramatic effect, “raspberries.” He took in a large breath and blew a raspberry right over Tommy’s belly button. Causing the seven year old to fall into laughter immediately. He blew another, making Tommy buck his hips and begin squirming.

In the midst of the raspberries, he began to scratch at the sides of Tommy’s stomach. Tommy's laughter became intermingled with hiccups and his squirming became slower. Seeing this as a sign to stop soon, Techno blew one final raspberry, shaking his head into it and then pulling the boy’s shirt back down and patting his stomach.

“Rincewind decided that the treasure he found that day was his absolute favorite.” Techno concluded the story and gave a small bow.

———————————————————————-

GUYS I GOT RANBOO MERCH. THE GENDER MAN NOW HAS APPROXIMATELY $65 DOLLARS FROM ME SMH MY HEAD BUT IM LITERALLY SO EXCITED

Anyways…I hope you liked the fic! Thank you so much for the request and the compliments! They mean a lot 💕💕

#mcyt tickle fic #mcyt tickle #tickle fic #lee!tommy #lee!tommyinnit #ler!technoblade #Ler!techno #young!tommy #dsmpticklefic #dsmp tickle fic

178 notes · View notes

queensoybean0724 · 3 years

Text

Succession Chapter 11 (Karl Heisenberg/female reader) Resident Evil Village fanfic

Title: Succession Chapter 11

Characters: Karl Heisenberg, female reader

Rating: NC-17 for sex and language (cunniligus, fingering, P in V, unprotected sex *wrap it up, kids*, creampie)

Summary: you discover a long lost relative has died and made you his sole beneficiary. While flying to collect your inheritance, you crash in a village in Romania.

Author’s Note: I do not own the characters from Resident Evil Village. This is a work of fiction. Anything remotely similar to anyone living or dead is purely coincidental.

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter 11

You and Heisenberg sat side by side against the headboard as he told you everything. The bed sheet was pulled up to his waist while you pulled it higher, covering your nakedness. He reached for a cigar and lighter on his nightstand, puffing and exhaling in between the story. You kept your eyes focused forward: on your legs under the sheets, on your hands in your lap, anywhere but turning your head to look at him.

It took him almost an hour to relay everything to you. His story started over 100 years ago when the woman you now knew as Mother Miranda lost her daughter Eva. You listened as he told you how she discovered an unknown organism under the village known as the Megamycete. Heisenberg stopped periodically, puffed his cigar, and asked if you wanted a break or if you had any questions. All you could do is shake your head and bid him to keep talking.

Your heart broke hearing him talk about how Mother Miranda kidnapped him from his family and infected him with Cadou. The name of the organism sounded familiar, then you remembered that it was the thing in the jar that Moreau had in his laboratory. Heisenberg explained that the Cadou drastically changed an individual...either physically, mentally, metaphysically, and sometimes in every way imaginable. He told you that the Cadou is what gave him the ability to move metal objects with his mind. He also shared the fact that he was able to manipulate electric fields and communicate through electronics like radios, televisions, and the overhead PA system that was installed in the factory.

He shared that the Cadou was why Moreau was trapped in the prison that is his mutated body.

Tears slid down your cheeks at the thought of Moreau being in constant pain and turmoil because this “mother,” as he lovingly called her the last time you were with him, turned him into a monster. But your heart also ached at the thought of Karl being taken as a child, experimented on, and left alone with a family that was not his family. You could only imagine how scared and alone he must have felt, how much he must have missed his family, and how his real family must have searched for him for years until they all eventually died off one by one.

Heisenberg came to the end of his story, stubbed his cigar out in the ashtray, and slowly turned his head to look at you. A part of him was scared, scared that you wouldn’t believe him, or worse, that you would run as far away from him as possible. It was a thought that tied his stomach into knots. He had wanted you from the moment he set eyes on you and had just gotten you into his arms and into his bed...he didn’t want to lose you now.

You shifted next to him and he waited for you to rise from the bed, put your clothes back on, and demand to be taken somewhere where you could call for rescue. He was surprised when instead you looped your arm under his and held his bicep, resting your head on his shoulder. He sighed in relief, a slow smile spreading over his face as he lifted his hand and placed it on your outer leg, pulling your legs closer to him.

“So what do you think?” Heisenberg asked, pressing his lips into your hair.

“It’s unbelievable,” you murmured, “but then again, I’ve seen enough of this village to know that unbelievable things happen and reside here. I should have known when I saw that thing that looked like a tree reach up and rip off the wing of the plane..”

Heisenberg furrowed his brow at your words. A tree? Then it dawned on him that you were referring to the mold. He came to the conclusion that you must have looked out of the plane window and saw it strike. He could only imagine how terrifying it was to be on a plane and experience it not only crashing, but also being the only survivor.

“The mold...the thing you saw is called the mold. I saw it retreating back into the village after your plane crashed. I knew if there were any survivors that Mother Miranda would find them and infect them in hopes that one would bring her daughter back into this life. When I saw you...you looked so frightened, so fragile...and you were so beautiful. You never know what the Cadou will do to a host, Moreau and the lycans being the disastrous part of the spectrum. So I grabbed you, told Moreau I would kill him if he told anyone, and here you are.”

You lifted your head from his shoulder and looked up at him. His penetrating gaze, the scars that peppered his face, his long hair that fell to his chin, and his beard...Heisenberg was incredibly handsome. His physical body was not adversely affected by Mother Miranda’s experimentation. And even though he didn’t tell you why he brought you here at first, you were grateful that he finally confided in you.

“Thank you,” you whispered, smiling at him, “I understand now why you brought me here and why you were so secretive. I would never have believed you at first and automatically would have written you off as crazy. And the bodies in the factory...you need an army to stop Miranda. The bodies from the cemetery, the bodies from the plane crash...you need all the help you can get. It’s...it’s tough to think of Bruce and the others being turned into mindless soldiers, but I understand why you need them…”

Heisenberg’s eyes searched yours. His hand squeezed your leg reassuringly. “I’m so sorry you had to see your friend like that. I didn’t know you had gotten to know him on the plane. To me, they were always just tools to aid me in my battle with Miranda...but they were once people. They had families, friends...I promise you when this is over, I will put their bodies to rest.”

You nodded. “I’ll help you...help you bury them, say a few words...convince their ghosts not to come back and haunt you for all eternity…”

He chuckled and leaned in, kissing your lips softly. You lifted your hand and caressed his cheek, feeling the scruffiness of his beard. A surprised groan formed in his throat as you pushed your tongue out to lick his lips. Both of his hands lifted, cupped your face, and deepened the kiss.

The two of you sat there, kissing and making out like a pair of horny teenagers. You released the sheet that covered your breasts and it pooled in your lap. One of Heisenberg’s hands went around to your back, pulling you closer, as his other hand stayed pressed to your cheek.

He pulled away from the kiss, which made you whimper. He laughed before growling playfully and moving to his knees. Pulling the sheets off of your body, he grabbed your thighs and pulled your body forward, making you lie back on your pillow. “Karl!” you squealed as he made quick work of spreading your legs and lying on his stomach between them.

“I’ve only briefly tasted you...now I want to devour you…” he growled. Both of his arms wrapped under and around your legs as his lips kissed the soft skin of your inner thighs. You sat up on your elbows, your mouth going dry and your heart beating wildly. As you watched him kiss up and down one thigh before moving to the other, you felt your arousal accelerate. You had been intimate before, but you had never had a man go down on you. It had been a fantasy for a long time. You fantasized about it over and over as you pleasured yourself. And now, here is this mysterious, strong man between your legs, moving achingly slow towards your pussy.

“Karl…” you whispered, your thighs trembling on either side of his face. His lips spread in a grin as he hovered over your pussy, blowing softly on your clit. Your lips parted and you moaned loudly, arching your hips up to his mouth. Heisenberg laughed and kissed along the flesh of your labia, his teeth gently nibbling on it. Desire and arousal churned in your stomach and you could feel your wetness pooling out of you.

“Do you like that, doll face?” he asked, kissing around your clit, “does it feel good?”

All you could do was nod your head and move your hips. He was mercilessly teasing you, tormenting you with his skilled mouth and never truly giving you what you wanted.

“Mmmm...you smell so good…” Heisenberg murmured, pressing the tip of his nose to your clit and nuzzling it softly.

“Karl, for fuck’s sake...please...please…” you begged, grabbing the sheets in your fists. His gaze fixed on yours and he smiled, slowly extended his tongue, and circled around your clit.

You tossed your head back and cried out, your lower back arching off the bed. You panted and moaned his name as his tongue curled and flicked over the swollen nub. The pleasure that coursed through your body was unlike anything you had ever felt before. The feel of his hands spreading your thighs wider and his fingers sinking into your skin almost drove you insane.

“Karl...Karl...oh fuck...yes...yes...don’t stop…” you whimpered. Heisenberg chuckled softly, closing his lips around your clit and sucking. One hand released the sheets and shot up to the headboard, grabbing onto one of the railings for dear life. Your body undulated and gyrated on his bed as his mouth gave you pleasure beyond anything you had ever felt before.

Heisenberg became drunk with power as he looked up at you. The way you moved and the sounds that slid past your lips made him unbelievably hard. He found himself grinding his solid cock into the bed, desperate for friction. Your reaction to his mouth was better than any pornographic image he had seen in his long life. His eyes darkened as ideas flowed through his mind. He made mental notes of all of the things he wanted to do to you right here in his bed...and all of the ways he would make you scream his name and shout your ecstasy.

He moved his right hand from your thigh to your dripping pussy. He pulled away his mouth momentarily in order to softly caress your opening with the pads of his fingers. You continued to moan and pant.

“I’m going to make you cum on my tongue over and over again…” Heisenberg promised, “and I’m going to shove my fingers inside of you...fingering you and tasting every part of your delicious cunt…”

Both of your hands were on the headboard railings, your body twisting amongst the sheets. Your hips bucked uncontrollably against his face as he pushed his index and middle fingers inside of you. His mouth went back to your clit, flicking it thoroughly as he rubbed your G-spot back and forth.

“Karl...you’re gonna make me cum...I wanna cum on your fingers...on your face...let me cum on your fucking face!!” you shouted, all manners and discretion completely thrown out of the window. Heisenberg growled and gave you what you wanted. His fingers pushed in and out of your wet opening noisily, the squelching sounds of your wetness audible to the both of you. His tongue flicked your clit hard and fast and within seconds your lower back was arched completely off the bed and your orgasm shook your entire body. You screamed his name over and over until his mouth slowly brought you back down to reality.

Aftershocks shook you as Heisenberg crawled up your body, chuckling against the skin of your stomach. You released the railings and brought your hands to his head, tangling your fingers in his hair.

His lips met yours and you kissed him hard. You felt his skin pressed against yours as his arms wrapped around your body and held you tight. The sensation of your retreating orgasm followed by his strong arms made your heart surge in your chest. You felt wanted, desired, and protected. He had given you more pleasure than you had ever been given by any other guy or even yourself for that matter. The connection you were feeling with him was growing...you hoped that Heisenberg felt it as well.

You wrapped your legs around his waist as he rolled his hips against your wet cunt. His hard cock rubbed back and forth between your pussy lips, making your desire accelerate all over again.

Heisenberg’s tongue explored your mouth, sliding and nudging yours into submission. His hands slid up your back and to your shoulders, hugging you close. Arousal and the growing need of his body increased. His lips kissed down your neck and to your chest, licking the thin sheen of sweat that settled on your flesh.

“Karl…” you whispered, moving one hand down along his shoulder blades as your other hand stayed tangled in his hair.

“I love hearing your beautiful voice say my name…” he moaned, kissing down between your breasts. You arched your hips and spread your thighs wider, aching to feel him inside of you. Heisenberg pushed himself up on one hand while his other reached down to grab his cock. He rubbed the tip up and down along your pussy, teasing you mercilessly.

“Karl...please fuck me again...fuck me…” you said, arching your hips higher. You were desperate to feel him, to feel his cock stretch you out and to feel his hips hammering down against yours.

He pushed inside of you and the both of you moaned loudly. His left hand moved up to the headboard, holding it tight as the other hand wrapped around your leg, hiking it higher up on his hip.

The feel of his hips hammering you into the bed was enough to drive you mad. His cock pushed deeper, faster, and harder. It was like he could no longer help himself...now that you were under him, he was possessed.

Your hands reached around to his lower back, moving up and down in time with his thrusts. Your pussy walls clenched around his cock every time he pushed inside of you and his grunts became louder because of it. You gripped him like a vice and he had to hold himself off from cumming too soon. He wanted you to cum again, but this...he wanted to feel it, experience it, memorize every fucking part of your cunt.

“Y/N...oh god pussycat, you’re killing me...your fucking cunt...it’s so damn tight and wet...god dammit!!” he yelled, tossing his head back. Looking up at him losing control and fucking you harder and desperately...you wanted to give him as much pleasure as he was giving you.

His hand released your leg and went to the back of your head, making you look down at his cock thrusting in and out of you. His other hand pressed to the bed, gripping the sheets. “Look at how your cunt is taking my cock...taking my cock like a good little girl…”

Your orgasm was close as you watched his hips crashing down on yours, his cock moving quickly in and out of you. You gripped his hips and screamed his name again and again. Heisenberg moved forcefully, the bed banging against the wall.

“Fuck, Y/N! Fuck!!! Oh fuck, your amazing pussy is gonna kill me!” Heisenberg shouted. You looked up into his face, his features twisted into pleasure so primal and hedonistic. His hair fell in his face, his mouth dropped open, and his eyes were fused to yours.

“Cum inside of me, Karl,” you begged, squeezing his cock tightly inside of you.

“OH FUCK ME!!!” he shouted, tossing his head back. You felt him cum, his cock twitching inside of you and in seconds you came as well, your body bucking wildly, holding tight to his hips. Heisenberg continued to curse and grunt as he pumped every drop of cum inside of you. You trembled under him, moving your hands up his sides, down his chest and stomach, and up his back. He released a shaky breath as he slowly lowered himself onto his elbows, burying his face into your neck.

His body rocked on top of you, still thrusting slowly. You kissed along his shoulder and nuzzled his skin with your nose. The feel of his hot breath on your neck and his sweat-slicked skin against yours was incredible. You never wanted him to let you go.

Heisenberg rolled to his side, pulling you with him, his cock still inside of you. You lifted your leg and rested it atop his hip. His fingers slid up and down your spine, making you shudder.

“You’re amazing, Y/N,” Heisenberg whispered, his lips pressed to your forehead, “so, so amazing…”

You closed your eyes, a smile spreading across your face, as you fell asleep in his arms.

#resident evil village #resident evil village fanfic #karl heisenberg #karl heisenberg x reader #karl heisenburg x reader #karl heisenberg fanfic #daddy heisenberg #house heisenberg #succession fanfic #succession heisenberg fanfic

170 notes · View notes

stagefoureddiediaz · 3 years

Text

Happy new episode day everyone! 🎉🎉🎉

I wanted to get this out before the episode goes live and I’m hopin o can get everyone else done this week so I can then do a more general costume post for the episode looking at all the characters rather than individual focus! I’m sorry it’s ended up as an Uber long post! As always thanks to all the gif makers who’s gifs I’ve shamelessly stolen to make my mountain of text look prettier and show my points!

As ever this is a continuation of my costume metas which you can read here, here, here and here.

I’m going to look at Christopher in two separate parts - firstly the suit shopping scene because I have a suit Goldilocks theory (and this is partly because kids only wear suits at certain events - not in more day to day and work scenarios like adults!)

- his old suit that he wore to his mother’s funeral is too small.

- new suit he’s trying in to please his fathers girlfriend is too big and doesn’t fit properly (telling that he’s tried on several).

- the next time we see Chris in a suit I expect it to fit him perfectly (Manifesting at Buddies wedding 🤣)

- These suits are a literal metaphor for where Chris is mentally and emotionally and his costuming is important because he’s a character we don’t really often see away from Eddie or Buck.

I’m not saying the old suit is too small because he doesn’t still love his mom, because he absolutely does and he always will, but she can never come back into the picture. We as humans continue to grow and develop and change even, and especially, when we loose someone close to us (I speak from personal experience here - I lost my mum at 18 - I will always love her and she will always be a part of me, but I know I’m a different person than I would’ve been because she is no longer a physical presence in my life providing support and guidance - I wonder if she’d be able to recognise the me I am now.) Chris may not be cognisant of this yet, because he’s still a child, but to us as the audience the suit is a physical representation of his personal growth as well as his physical growth as a child, the fact it doesn’t fit properly shows us he’s not yet there.

The suit shop suit is also showing us, the audience, Christopher’s opinion on Eddieana as a couple - it doesn’t fit and he is manifestly uncomfortable! The only other time we’ve seen him act out in any way when Eddie told him in s4 that he was dating Ana and this suit is a continuation of that.

- an ill fitting suit and it’s interesting that it’s grey - he won’t be the focus of the scene even though other aspects of the mise en scene initially pull you that way (that it’s supposed to be Chris they’re shopping for, shop assistant and everyone are focused on him - except the camera and sound etc) - an aside to say I love the use of mirrors and both Eddie and Chris being seen in reflection - the representation of not being one’s true self (911 uses this concept really effectively- think Bobby getting back into the dating game in s1 and all the times the mirrors on the fire trucks or mirror reflections have been used!) - they are both trying to make the other happy by projecting what they think the other needs - neithers reflection looks comfortable in that moment even though they’re trying - an indication that they’ve not spoken with each other about it, they’re just following along with a projected image!

On to the rest of Christopher’s outfits!

we have no real idea how he felt about the break up - because we haven’t been shown his reaction, but we can make some assumptions based on his clothing. This season Chris has had some different outfit choices from previous seasons and they reflect what I’ve previously said about Buck being in smart and patterned shirts around Taylor. I should also add that the outfits Chris has worn in previous seasons are really interesting in relation to how his personality is developing into a blend of Eddie, Shannon and Buck (I might do an entire post on this alone when I get some time!!) Chris has had 5 scenes thus far and they all reflect his comfort levels (and also to a subconscious extent his fathers) especially related to Ana and Eddie - hard to get a read on anyone else because he’s not really been around anyone else yet.

Green poisonous creatures tee - aside from the rather obvious poisonous creatures, the shirt is green - not quite the army green of Eddie’s, but it’s in that tonal area - he’s going into battle for his dad - the brighter shade is also interesting because it sits in the spectrum between the subtle shades of Eddie (reflecting his quieter more stoic personality) and the brighter tones of Bucks clothing (again reflective of Bucks more outwardly loud personality) - perhaps, and I might be reading more into this than is there, but it’s something I would’ve done, (and the costume designer will have been involved in season arcing conversations so will know where Buddie is headed at this point - lucky Alyana!!) as a way of showing that Chris’s personality is becoming a blend of both Eddie and Bucks - that Chris is prepared to be a it louder when he needs to be - that Chris is the one that drops the info to the Dr about the shooting holds this theory up and it’s his way of fighting for his dad and getting him both some support and for Eddie to acknowledge he needs some help - that it’s being instigated by chris is an important and wonderful thing because Eddie will always do stuff to make sure his son is ok so for them to signal chris is willing to do the same is just amazing and shows the father son bond and all through a t-shirt, never doubt that designers do thing intentionally (even if it’s to play with the audience’s minds). 😍

When Chris and Ana visit the firehouse we see Chris in a pretty formal outfit for a 10 year old considering it’s also a heatwave (we’ve seen Chris in shirts before, he does wear them fairly frequently. When around Ana he never wore t-shirts in previous seasons which makes the green tee from above the exception and the reason why is obvious!). Again the shirt is slightly over sized, but it’s also patterned - the pink and blue check which from a distance reads as a purply red colour and is pretty busy, this all matches what I’ve said previously about Bucks shirts indicating his discomfort around Taylor - formal = not comfortable - putting up a front or presenting an ideal, and the pattern = disordered thinking and lack of mental comfort. All of this is signalling that Chris is not happy being left with Ana so he’s putting up a front. We know if he’s been with Carla he’d have been much more casually dressed - we’ve seen it in previous series, which is why this outfit was so important and jarring!

I can never never never get enough of this hug btw!!

I can’t find a Gif so you’ll have to take my word for it or go watch the (cringe fest of Ana) scene again. Chris’s yellow shirt is an acid almost neon yellow - it’s super bright - the brightest thing in the whole scene by a long way and it’s meant to draw our eye - it’s as much a signpost for us as it is for Eddie - Chris is the way out of the darkness, he is Eddie’s guiding light, a route out of the mental darkness that has preceded, the blackout (which is a metaphor for most of the main characters internal turbulence at this time) and in some ways ties in with the green shirt from the hospital (I wish I could fully see the design on it to see if it revealed more).

We’ve seen Chris in yellow a couple of times, and they’ve been important.

the tsunami - which cemented his bond with Buck, separate from Eddie.

Also at Mays graduation party - where we saw Buck stepping into a fatherly role (mays message board) and cementing the Buckley-diaz family dynamic (that this is happening at a time when we now know Eddie is changing/ has changed his will makes it even more pertinent!).

The blue tee Chris is wearing bed is super interesting to me - this is one of the few times we’ve seen him in a single colour t-shirt (especially when he’s in pyjamas!). Normally Chris is either wearing multi colour tees (such as the striped ones we’ve seen him in previously), patterned pyjamas, or t-shirts that have logos on them. In fact (off the top of my head) the only instance prior to this I can remember Chris wearing a single colour t-shirt is when Eddie comes home from the hospital (and fun fact it was a mini Henley in army green!). There could be several reasons for this - blue is considered a calming colour and Eddie is seeking the calming comfort of his son, he’s not in need of guidance at this point in time (the universe doesn’t need to scream at the moment for more than one reason) so there is no graphic logo (as an aside we don’t even see the solar system mobile in this scene!) also the fact that it’s what I term a ‘jewel’ shade (which is the colour spectrum they tend to put Buck in fyi,) is designed to re-emphasise the importance of Christopher to Eddie - the importance of family.

I can’t wait to see what Chris is wearing in future episodes, his costumes are always so interesting and I’m expecting a return to graphic tees and colour ways that match both Eddie and Buck at different times! I’m definitely going to have to run a closer look at his outfits since S2 in more detail, especially around when he is and isn’t wearing stripes because I have a theory about 911 characters in stripes, but I need to check it holds up I’ve just not had the time to look at it yet!! And one other thing I need - Eddie in yellow, to support another theory I have (and the yellow from the crossover doesn’t count even though it made him look so pretty 😍)

76 notes · View notes

eggtoasties · 3 years

Text

Pairing: Eventual Osamu x Reader

Rating: E for fucking Samu in the car :-)

Word Count: 4.4k of Miya twin shenanigans, fluff, then eventual smut

Summary: A hopeful love and a blossomed love; years of wishing on candles and they’re both content.

a/n: @powderblew ur the hopeful love my beloved

Contrary to popular belief, Miya Atsumu does not speed. Yes, he nearly loses his mind on the interstate every other day but his road rage is completely contained to cursing in the confines of his car. Most people think Atsumu’s the reckless driver with his loud personality and penchant for pulling off risky moves on the court, but surprisingly, it’s his counterpart who fully believes that the actual speed limit is at least ten above the posted signage and weaves through lanes with one hand on the wheel and the other on her thigh.

Atsumu got Osamu the car as a birthday gift—black, sleek, and quiet. He had been dropping hints for weeks but Osamu had brushed them off, figuring his brother was spewing incoherent nonsense.

It was the weekend before their birthday. They decided to take a trip to the mountains—it was rare at this point in their young adult lives to have the free time to spend with each other. Osamu was busy with the shop: serving customers, preparing food, and trying new dishes. Getting Onigiri Miya off the ground was a seven day work week with early mornings and late nights. Atsumu on the other hand, had regularly scheduled practices and travel matches with the team. Although his schedule was incredibly hectic, there was a sort of rhythmic regularity to it.

So, for the first weekend in a long time where it would be just them, Atsumu wanted it to be special. Afterall, it was their birthday. Atsumu was the one who drove them to the campsite, taking in the scenery with appreciation, going slowly on the winding roads while mindlessly tapping a beat on the steering wheel. As they got closer and closer to their destination, Osamu could tell his brother was antsy.

His eyes would flicker from the road, to Osamu, then back again. His mindless tapping to the music turned into an incessant drilling and he kept readjusting his legs and changing his hand position on the wheel, fidgeting in his seat.

“Wouldya’ quit that, yer gonna crash the fuckin’ car,” Osamu said, exaggeratingly clutching to the grab handle at the top of his window.

“Yer really gonna yell at me on ma’ birthday that’s jus’ like ya’ Samu—”

“It’s ma’ birthday too ya’ idiot!”

The sound of his brother’s bickering quelled Atsumu’s nerves and he settled in the driver’s seat, humming along to the song playing on the speakers. In response, Osamu turned up the volume, but Atsumu just grinned.

“You will arrive at your destination in .2 miles,” the smooth voice of the GPS chimed.

Atsumu began fidgeting again and Osamu swore he was gonna punch him the moment they made it out of the death trap.

They pulled into the winding driveway and Osamu banged his head against the dashboard.

“Please tell me ya’ didn’t screw up the reservation,” he said quietly.

“What kinda idiot, do ya’ take me for, Samu?” Atsumu whined. Although Osamu couldn’t see with his forehead pressed against the polished wood interior, Atsumu was smiling.

“Then why is there another car parked in our spot?” Osamu deadpanned, turning his head to his brother, still pressed into the dash.

“Look again an’ eat yer words ya’ scrub.”

Driving slowly forward towards the car and parking next to it, Osamu realized that a bright red bow was tied to the hood. He stilled in his seat and stared dumbly out his window, slowly turning towards his brother.

“Do ya’ like it, Samu?” Atsumu nearly whispered, leaning in close to his brother, eyes wide, committing every micro reaction to memory.

Osamu blinked once. Twice. Then turned back to the car.

“Yeah, Tsumu,” he said shakily, “I really do.”

Against the burning in his throat and the tightening of his eyes, Osamu willed himself to remain composed when he heard rustling. Atsumu took out a crumpled and worn piece of notebook paper, its edges frayed and torn and began to smooth it out in his palms.

He cleared his throat and stared at the empty space across Osamu’s shoulder.

“So, uh…” he began, uncharacteristically shy and Osamu sent a prayer that this wasn’t a speech about how Tsumu had somehow accidentally razed Onigiri Miya to the ground in the short period that he wasn’t there and this was all an elaborate apology.

“I know that this year’s been tough with Onigiri Miya jus’ startin’ out an’ everythin’ but I jus’ wanted to say,” Atsumu trailed off and scratched his ear before suddenly, startling Osamu, squaring his shoulders and directing a piercing stare into his brother’s eyes. “I’m so proud of you Samu!” he nearly yelled, face flushed with embarrassment.

Osamu felt the heat prickle against his neck and all he could do was blink owlishly at his twin.

“What on Earth are ya’ goin’ on about?” he questioned incredulously.

“Okay, okay, wait I wrote it all down,” Atsumu said quickly, smoothing the worn paper once again. He cleared his throat a few times before reading.

“Osamu—”

“Oh my god is this a proposal, why is this so formal?” Osamu asked out loud.

“God, shut yer big ol’ trap wouldya I am tryin’ here,” Atsumu bit back to the amusement of his twin. “Anyways,” he grumbled. “Samu. I’ve been thinkin’ for a while and I jus’ wanted to say thank ya’ for always bein’ there for me.”

Osamu did not often feel stupid. Well, that’s a lie, he thought. It’s been a year since Onigiri Miya’s opening and he was only just beginning to feel as if he was able to call his job stable and that he had a solid understanding of how things should be ran. However, it was not often that his brother made him feel stupid, but here he was, at a loss for words at this uncharacteristic show of appreciation.

Yes, high fives and hugs had always come easily after a particularly clean hit or a perfectly executed pass, but they never sat down like this and talked about how much they appreciated each other. Osamu figured it was unsaid in the little things—how the clothes Atsumu stole in high school always ended back clean in Osamu’s closet, how Osamu usually ended up making two bentos when they still lived together, or how Atsumu had always tried to include Osamu in team bonding even when Osamu was in college.

“I think,” Atsumu said, breaking Osamu out of his thoughts. “That you were what made me work so hard at volleyball. Not because you were the only one that could challenge me,” Osamu scoffed at this. “But because you were the only one I cared to play with for a long time.”

Tears pricked at his eyes and Osamu nodded at his brother to continue.

“An’ thinkin’ back, yer probably the only reason why ma’ teammates didn’t excommunicate me like they did to Tobio-kun,” Atsumu joked and Osamu cracked a smile despite the burning of his throat.

“An’ I know we’ve talked about this before, but I am still really sorry when I went off on ya’ when ya’ told me you were quittin’ volleyball. I don’t mean to beat a dead horse or anything—”

“You sound like Baa-chan,” Samu choked out, still trying to hold back tears, hands balled into fists on his lap.

Undeterred, Atsumu continued to read. “But the fact that fer the first time, ya’ wouldn’t be by my side on the court was jus’ never a possibility I’d considered. So ‘m sorry ‘bout the fuss I made even though I know that’s all old news.” He paused and nodded at Osamu, noting his fists and drew in a shaky breath.

“’Samu, I jus’ want to let ya’ know that I am so endlessly proud to be yer brother and all the work ya’ put in in college and startin’ Miya Onigiri honestly scared me a little,” he said chuckling. “The way you really focus in on somethin’ when yer concentrating was always so intense, but I’d only really seen it with volleyball. But ever since you went to college, and especially with this past year, I can’t believe I fought you to go pro with me because I’d never seen ya’ more fired up or intense than ya’ have been this past year.”

The sides of Atsumu’s paper begin to tear with the force of his grip, and both twins are mirror images of each other. Red in the face, hands in fists, and willing the other to cry first.

“Basically,” Atsumu drawled on, hands slightly shaking, “thank ya’ for bein’ the best brother and teammate I coulda’ ever asked for and I’m so, so, proud to be the brother of the founder of Onigiri Miya.” He lowered the paper from his line of vision and accidentally crumbled it with his hand as he blurt out, “And I love you!” turning even redder in embarrassment. “Even though ya’ never respond to my texts and make fun a’ me when I bring my teammates ‘round,” he quickly added in.

Osamu undid his seatbelt and forcefully opened his door. He heard Atsumu’s confused “huh” and watched as he fumbled with his seatbelt through the windshield as he crossed to the other side. Atsumu stumbled out of the driver’s seat and Osamu captured him in a bone crushing hug. One hand wrapped around his back and the other held Atsumu’s head as he cried into his neck.

He thought back to the first semester of culinary school when he questioned himself every single day if it was the right choice to have made. Learning and practicing different techniques that felt foreign was a hurdle that had seemed impossible at the time. Then, when he graduated and he figured he knew almost everything there was to know about the food industry after hours and hours of lab, internships, and class and began preparations for opening Miya Onigiri, he realized once again that he knew nothing. Even a year after founding Miya Onigiri and he still found himself doubting his success.

But, hearing his idiot brother tell him he was proud—was all he needed. Because Miya Osamu also pushed himself to the upper limits of his physical and mental abilities because his brother was the only one he wanted to compete with. It didn’t matter who else might try and challenge them, at the end of their finish lines, the only person they wanted to see was each other.

The autumnal air was incredibly crisp and although the forest surrounding their luxury cabin was teeming with life, time around them seemed to still as they both cried.

“This is too much, ‘Tsumu,” Osamu sniffled out. “My gift ta’ ya’ was literally like, two hundred dollars.”

“It’s okay,” sniffled Atsumu. He paused. “What’d ya’ get me?”

Osamu pulled away and wiped his face with the bottom hem of his sweater.

“I got ya’ a signed copy of that book you were yappin’ on about with yer favorite author and I got her to make a video for ya’ sayin’ happy birthday and all that—”

“Oh my god,” Atsumu said excitedly, “Yer tellin’ me ya’ got Sonia Barnes to write me a handwritten message and a private video!?”

Osamu grimaced at the snot Atsumu had dripping down his chin. “First of all don’t say it like that, an’ second of all, wipe yer nose or somethin’ ya’ scrub.”

Completley ignoring his brother’s complaints, Atsumu lunged at Osamu, begging him to show him the video. Osamu tapped at his phone, opened up the email attachment, and watched the myriad expressions of surprise, admiration, love, and happiness flicker across Atsumu’s face during a 20 second video while red eyed and swollen. He mused that this was possibly the best birthday they ever had.

“Let’s take this baby on a test drive,” Osamu said, eagerly waiting by the door as Atsumu watched his birthday video for the umpteenth time.

That Sonia Barnes was a very pretty lady, Osamu reasoned, but if he had to hear her chirp, “Happy Birthday Tsumu!” one more time, she was going to be the cause of fratricide.

Settling into the leather seat, Osamu pressed the start button and nearly cooed at the soft rumble of the engine.

Throwing himself into the passenger’s seat Atsumu said, “Let’s figure out how ta’ connect to Bluetooth so I can hear ma’ angel on speaker,” fiddling with the touch screen.

Osamu grabbed Atsumu’s phone and threw it in the backseat and put the car in drive just as Atsumu started to clamber in the back for it. He peeled down the driveway as Atsumu screamed and picked up speed down the secluded road as Atsumu managed to get back in his seat and secure the seat belt.

The pretty autumn foliage was a blur of orange and reds and Osamu breathed in the smell of new leather and wood polish.

“S-slow down!” Atsumu yelled, quickly activating the lock function on the seatbelt and gripping the grab handle with both hands. “I-is this b-because I told the whole team you’d giv’ em’ free food if they said they were my teammate,” he screamed, “I’ll tell ‘em nevermind!”

Osamu rolled down the windows and the sun roof and laughed as the wind ran through his hair while his brother cried for the second time that day.

A year later and Osamu’s still in the driver’s seat of his car, but this time, she’s in the passenger’s seat. They have all the windows down and he’s speeding along the coast of Hyogo, sea breeze whipping through their hair and the sound of waves breaking in the distance.

She had planned a full day for his birthday: brunch at their favorite restaurant, a walk through the shopping district, and a homemade dinner with a fruit tart from his favorite bakery. Now that he had two years of experience running Onigiri Miya, he could afford to step away from the shop every so often. Unfortunately, his counterpart was on the other side of the world for a match, but they managed to squeeze in a short videocall despite the time difference.

“’Samu!” Atsumu screamed from the other line, “Happy Birthday!”

Wincing, Osamu turned the volume of his phone down as she giggled and wished his brother a Happy Birthday.

“What’d ya’ plan for Samu’s birthday,” Atsumu asked her, “good luck beatin’ ma’ gift from last year—”

“Tsumu!” Osamu berated.

“Unfortunately, my research job doesn’t pay as much as being a pro-volleyballer,” she rolled her eyes, “but I do have some fun things lined up,” she said, smiling softly at Osamu to which Atsumu gagged.

“Ya’ scrub, just ‘cause yer jealous—”

“Tsumu!” she interrupted, “did you get our gift? We were a little nervous about the international shipping but your hotel said they got it so—”

“Yes!” Atsumu exclaimed, screen blurry as he shuffled around his hotel room. He set his phone down and propped it up, showing them the neatly packaged box. “I can’t believe ya’ got me another signed copy of Sonia Barnes’s book—I couldn’t even get this one off preorder, it was so popular—”

“Did ya’ open the envelope yet?” Osamu asked impatiently.

“Of course I did! I always open the letter before the present, what do ya’ take me for, Samu?” Atsumu whined, but the duo noticed how Atusmu’s hands were off screen and they could hear quiet tearing noises in between pauses.

Rolling their eyes, they patiently waited for Atsumu to unsubtly open their envelope. They watched as Atsumu quickly scanned the contents of the letter and Osamu hit screen record as his brother’s mouth dropped open.

“T-tickets to a live reading and meet and greet?” Atsumu whispered to himself. He pulled the letter closer to his face and read it over and over again before gingerly setting the cardstock down and gently looking into the envelope to produce two ticket stubs. Carefully placing the tickets back into the envelope, Osamu failed to cover his snickers as Atsumu’s lower lip trembled.

“I know it’s no car,” she said, “but I do happen to know people who know people, so I hope you like your gift, ‘Tsumu” she said kindly.

Atsumu suddenly held the phone close to his face and Osamu could see his brother’s ears turn pink.

“Yer the best sister in law I coulda’ ever asked for, I don’t know why yer with that good fer nothin’ scrub—yer not married yet, so ya’ still have time to run away, but ‘Samu, ya’ better not mess it up,” he rambled, roughly wiping his nose with the sleeve of his jacket.

Osamu scoffed and she placed a placating hand on his shoulder.

“I can’t believe I get ta’ meet ma’ angel,” Atsumu mumbled to himself in disbelief, pacing in his hotel room, running his hands through his hair. “Angel, angel, angel—I gotta bring ma’ copy of her books with ma’ notes! I have so many questions for her, like how she came up with the storyline—didya know she went to school in New York City? Isn’t that the coolest? And she made a video for me for ma’ birthday last year,” he broke his monologue to gasp. “Do ya’ think she’ll remember me—”

Osamu put him on mute and groaned.

“Maybe we shoulda jus’ gotten him those fancy mugs,” he complained, leaning heavily into her side.

She rubbed the sides of his neck as she watched with amusement as Atsumu continued his ramblings, completely unaware that she and Osamu were having a side conversation.

“But look how happy he is, Samu,” she crooned, giggling as Osamu pinched his nose bridge. But she knew that Osamu was the one who spent hours scouring the web for those tickets and sent several emails to Sonia Barnes’s manager for a signed copy.

Watching his brother run his mouth with no regard to himself or his girlfriend, Osamu clicked the unmute button and nearly yelled, “We get it ya’ scrub, we get it!”

“Let me be happy why dontcha!” Atsumu retorted.

“Alright well I’m gonna spend ma’ birthday with ma’ real girlfriend,” Osamu taunted, finger hovering over the ‘end call’ button.

“Once Sonia meets me she’s gonna fall in love, just ya’ wait!”

She yelled one last, “Happy Birthday!” before Osamu disconnected the call and tackled her into the bed.

For the end of his birthday, Osamu requested a car ride. It was just past sunset; the sky’s vibrant pinks and oranges faded into a cool indigo and the stars were extra bright in the rural area they were driving through.

They rode in comfortable silence, listening to seagulls call their good nights and the wind beating against the car. The supple leather of the seat underneath her contrasted with the rough pads of Osamu’s fingertips on her thigh and she stared out at the horizon, perpetually in awe of the beauty of the coast line. Here, twinkling city lights were hardly discernible specks in the distance and the only tall structures were the trees dotting the cliffside.

They rose higher in altitude until they were surrounded by lush forest—rustling underbush and singing cicadas took over the sound crashing waves. He pulled into a secluded nook that overlooked a cliff and she couldn’t believe they were only a forty minute drive from the main city.

He killed the engine and unbuckled her seat belt while she was still leaning forward, face close to the windshield, taking in the scenery.

“I’m feelin’ a bit neglected over here,” Osamu said, soft grin taking over his face as he watched her, lips parted and eyes wide.

“Sorry Samu,” she said, still looking out the glass, “it’s just so incredible here.”

“I told ya’ I knew a spot,” he teased and she intertwined her hand with his.

He pulled her arm towards him as leaned over the middle console so his lips caught her neck when she lurched towards him. Her surprised chuckle turned into a content hum, fluttering her eyes closed as he kissed the pulse point of her throat, her exposed shoulder, then where her neck met her clavicle. From there, he dragged his lips slowly to her ear and grinned when he felt her clutch at his sweater.

Nipping her ear and tracing the shell with his tongue, rough palms kneaded her thighs and his fingers played with the hem of her skirt. He let out a heavy breath when she brushed against his tightening pants and he smirked when she involuntarily shivered.

“Do ya’ like this?” he asked, mouth kissing down the expanse of her chest, pulling the hem of her shirt low.

She arched her back into him and guided his hand under her shirt and he grinned when she impatiently unhooked her bra and took it and her shirt off in one swift motion.

“Does that answer your question?”

Eyes half lidded, lips slick with spit and plump from his repeated ministrations, she had one leg folded under her and the other anchored to the floor. Fully facing him, she cocked her head to the side and dragged her eyes down his body, lingering for a moment before directing her heavy gaze at him. She leaned back against the door as he leaned forward on the middle console and she ran a hand slowly from her knee, teasing a peek under her skirt, tracing a finger around her navel, then making her way upwards, rolling a nipple with two fingers while slowly rocking her hips.

Osamu’s lips parted and his eyes flickered from her hands to her face as she brought her other hand to rub at the cotton beneath her legs. Gaze hungry, he licked his lips and rolled his neck, languidly leaning back against his door, mirroring her.

“Gonna give me a birthday show?” He rasped, slowly unbuttoning his pants and palming his length through his boxers.

Skirt bunched at the waist giving him an unhindered view of the growing wet stain between her legs and Osamu felt himself tighten at the sight. He wanted to press his nose against the ruined fabric and lap at her through her pink panties, he wanted to curl a finger in her and listen to her keel for him, he wanted to—

“Take your shirt off,” she demanded.

“I thought it was ma’ birthday,” he chuckled but does as she asks, pulling the fabric from the back of his neck. He tossed the garment to the backseat and lazily looked back at her.

The tops of her cheeks are flushed and her breasts shake with each pant. She’s worked two slender fingers from the side of her underwear and Osamu watches with rapt attention as her pretty folds are presented to him.

“Touch yourself, Samu.”

“Again with the demands,” he complained but freed himself from the confines of his boxers and matches the pace she’s set on herself.

“Fuck,” she whined, moving faster. The hand teasing her nipples moved south to pinch at her clit and Osamu couldn’t wait anymore.

He nearly launched himself to her, abdomen uncomfortably resting on top of the center console and she seemed all too satisfied with the result. He buried his face between her legs and groaned with her as he sucked and lapped at her overstimulated bundle of nerves through soaked cotton.

“Itadakimasu,” he growled and she rolled her eyes at the line.

Long languid licks interspersed with quick flicks of his tongue, he took her right to the edge of her orgasm. Her thighs clenched around his head while her nails dragged through his gray hair and she rocked her hips against his mouth. Toe curling heat had her buck helplessly against his tongue, rough hands gripping her in place as she reached her peak, but at the last second, he pulled away.

Her gasp was lost with the loud bang his head made as it slammed against the car ceiling and he let out a string of curses as he tried to fit in the passenger’s seat with her. She half stands, leaning back on the glove department as he sat down and she couldn’t help but giggle when he cursed at how slowly the seat was reclining back.

But just as quick, he grabbed her by the hands and has her straddle him. The seat is narrow but neither of them mind as he slowly entered her. She gripped at the back of his head as he teased a nipple and sucked constellations across her chest while her other hand gripped the grab handle, giving her more leverage.

Osamu slowly rocked into her and he captured her moans in a kiss. He gave her a second to adjust to his length before slamming into her, head falling back into the headrest as he watched her bounce above him.

Beautiful, was all he could think. Hair wild around her shoulders, a glistening sheen of perspiration across her forehead and chest, and the incredible sound of her slick around him. He was in heaven.

He slid his thumb between her parted lips and she immediately began to suck. She bobbed her head back and forth while giving kitten licks at the tip and nipping the underside of his thumb.

“Good girl,” he cooed as he pressed his finger further back in her throat and watched as her eyes rolled back and she rocked her hips even faster against his.

Removing his thumb and making a show of putting it in his mouth, he pressed the wet digit against her clit and grinned as her moans became louder.

The sweet call of his name as she begged him to make her finish led him to snap his hips up, rubbing against the spongy bit of her inner walls and he held her close to his chest as they came undone together.

Breathing heavily, he rested his forehead on her shoulder and watched as a rivulet of sweat ran down the valley of her breasts and he shifted his hips forward, just now noticing the dull ache in his thighs. She shuddered against him and he kissed her shoulder, her cheek, then her other cheek.

“We really have to thank Tsumu for the car,” she said, chuckling.

“Yeah?” he questioned, running his blunt nails across her back, “should we tell him what we used it for?”

She scrunched her nose and Osamu’s heart clenched too. Wrapping her arms around his neck, soaking in the warmth of his warm body, her lips ghosted the side of his cheek and he shuddered at the tingles running down his back with the contact.

“Happy Birthday, ‘Samu,” she whispered sweetly.

Rocking into her again just to hear her breath tick, he nestled his head into her neck and smiled.

#osamu x reader #osamu x you #osamu x y/n #osamu fluff #osamu smut #hq x reader #hq x you #hq x y/n #osamu scenarios #osamu fic #atsumu fanfic #atsumu fluff #miya twins #atsumu x oc #hq smut #haikyuu smut #deviled.egg #miya osamu #hq osamu

183 notes · View notes

colormeyondublue · 3 years

Text

Chapter 11: Clear The Air

Chapter 10 Here - Chapter 12 Here

Several days go by, and Yondu doesn’t see much of you. What happened with Trenvik really damaged what confidence you had aboard the Eclector. This really took it’s toll on you both mentally and physically. You feel violated. The event could have been worse, but that Chorak still took something away from you. Although you really can’t pin down what that something is, you just feel helpless and weak. Kraglin has been bringing you meals while you work from your cabin. He stops by three times a day, and a few times in between just to check up on you. The two of you have gotten pretty close over the past few days. There is a soft knocking on your door, and Kraglin pokes his head inside after punching in your key on the number pad.

“Hey, I gotcha some tea. I wasn’t sure if ya’d be hungry yet, but I thought at least somethin’ warm might be nice.” He approaches your desk and sets the cup down, steam gently rising from the top.

“Thanks, Kraglin. Tea does sound nice.” You don’t really move or say much else. The silence begins to get tense, and Kraglin taps his thumbs together.

“So…ya think ya might wanna take a walk with me today? We don’t have to go far, and the guys are all off ship, nobody is around – promise.”

“Off ship? Where are we?” You ask, rather surprised.

“Cap’n wanted to take the boys out for a little break. He brought us to our usual place, Contraxia. We usually do that after a big score. That client paid us real well for them jewels ‘n stuff we took from Johpar. We’ll be sittin’ pretty fer a while.” He smiles.

“Contraxia?! Oh, god.” You roll your eyes and bring your palm to your forehead. You know a little about this planet, your boss used to talk about it when you were slow at the pawn shop. All you know is that there’s hookers, and drugs, and tons of booze.

“Ya know this place?” Kraglin asks with one eyebrow raised.

“I’ve never been here, but I know of it. My old boss used to talk about this planet. I’ve heard all I need to know.” You roll your eyes and play with the tag on the tea bag.

“Oh. Well, we don’t have ta leave the ship if ya don’t wanna. I just think it would be good fer ya ta get outta this room. You’ll go nuts in here!”

“Where’s Yondu?”

“I think he’s at a bar down there with Tullk, Oblo and some of the others.”

You sigh and sip your tea. You really don’t like the idea of Yondu being down there. Trust was something that the two of you hadn’t really had a ton of time to work on, but he did save your life the other day, so why wouldn’t you trust him to be faithful? I guess it’s good for morale. The Captain does need to be out with his men.

“How about this - I finish my tea and get dressed, and you can take me down to that disgusting excuse of a planet and show me around a little? But absolutely no brothels! Deal?”

“Deal! Go ahead and get ready and I’ll meet ya down at the docking bay in 20?”

You laugh lightly at his excitement and playfully nudge him. “Sounds good…” Just before he gets to the door you stop him. “Hey, Kraglin? Thank you…for making sure I was okay and checking up on me these past few days. What happened with Trenvik…it really did something to me, ya know?”

“Don’t mention it. Yer one of us. But more than that, ya make the Cap’n real happy. That makes me real happy. Cap and I go back a long ways, and ya mean a lot to us both y/n.” He smiles gently and nods, and disappears out your door.

You get dressed in a clean set of leathers and throw a coat over top with a black scarf. Unless anything has changed, you remember your boss talking about how it snows on Contraxia year-round. You find your mind wondering back to Kraglin again as you lace up your boots. Ya know, Kraglin is such a great guy. If he wasn’t so damn shy, he wouldn’t be single. Poor guy. You smirk at the thought.

~~~

You and Kraglin touch down on Contraxia and you both walk toward the bars and brothels in the snow. The streets are lit with loads of neon lights and signs. You notice there are a few restaurants and tattoo shops too.

“Hey, I think the Cap’n and the guys are at that bar over there.” Kraglin points to a larger metal building with a sign on the side that seems to be in a language you can’t read.

“Uh, Kraglin? Can we just…not go in there?”

“Why? Did ya wanna go somewhere else?” He asks, confused.

“Yeah, that would be great. I just don’t really want to see the Captain yet.”

“Are you two okay?”

“I think so, it’s just…something else happened before you guys went to Knowhere.” You rub your arms from the cold. “Is there somewhere else we can go to talk about it? Somewhere quiet?”

“Uhh, sure. There’s a little coffee place at the end of the road here.”

“Coffee?!”

Kraglin laughs loudly at your reaction. “Yeah, coffee. We do have some Terran things out here, ya know. We don’t have much, but coffee has definitely gained popularity over the years. There’s even some little farms that grow that stuff on Xandar. Just ‘cause ya ain’t seen other races on yer planet, don’t mean we haven’t stopped by ta look around."

“Woah…I had no idea. That’s really cool. A little unnerving, but cool. Remind me to ask you more about that later. I need coffee! Let’s go!” You grab Kraglin’s hand and hurry down the street toward the shop.

The two of you enter the coffee shop, and find a seat near the window. After your drinks arrive, you speak up after taking a few sips.

“Okay, so before you guys left the ship, I kinda said something to the Captain I maybe shouldn’t have...not yet at least.”

“What kinda’ somethin’”?

You hide your face behind your hands and sigh. “I might have accidentally told the Captain that I loved him, among other things. Truthfully, I do – ya know, love him. But he didn’t say much of anything back and I panicked.” You don’t hear a reply for a few seconds. You drop your hands to see what horrific expression Kraglin has on his face. To your surprise, there isn’t any expression, he is just nonchalantly drinking his coffee.

“He told me.”

“What?! He told you?!”

“Yeah, he told me. To be honest, I wasn’t all too surprised. You Terran’s have a thing about love. You’d be surprised how alike Terrans are to us Xandarian’s. We have a thing about love too. That’s something Quill and I always had in common. We understood each other, I guess that’s why we got along so damn well.” He finished with a smile.

“Okaaay, so what else did he say?”

“Look y/n, yer my friend, and I care about ya a lot. That’s why I think you ‘n the Cap’n should talk about it. I will say that he ain’t mad or put off, but he just ain’t used to it. The Cap’n hasn’t had the most fantastic life. Love ain't never really been apart of it neither. Just be patient with him is all.”

After a few minutes of silence pass, Kraglin speaks up again. “Maybe ya should talk to him tonight? Just clear the air and see where things go?”

A light laugh bubbles up to your lips and you look at him, not surprised. “Since when did you get so good at relationship advice?”

Kraglin just shrugs. “Honestly, couldn’t tell ya. Maybe I’m just level headed? Dunno.”

“You really shoudn’t be single, ya know that?” You tease.

“I had a girl a long time ago. But, bein’ a Ravager makes relationships hard. Unless another girl just falls from the stars onto our ship, I don’t see that being in the cards fer me.”

“Yeah, well, if things can turn around for Yondu, I’m sure they can for you too.”

~~~

Back at the bar, Yondu couldn’t really get into the celebration spirit. Your frightened expression from the other day in your office wouldn’t leave his mind. The men were beyond happy with their payday, and super drunk. Sex bots were everywhere, and it was all he could do to keep them off of him. He eventually decides to just leave. He gets up from his stool, and Tullk taps his arm.

“Hey, ya alright Cap’n?”

“Yeah, yeah ‘m fine. Just tired, gonna head out.”

“We’ll see ya later then?”

“Yeah, sure.” He replies as he’s walking out the door.

Yondu heads back to the Warbird so he can call Quill. He’s got to know what to do. Quill is Terran, and he’s…younger. Maybe he’ll have some kind of advice on how to handle this.

He sits down and taps a few buttons on the console. The screen beeps for a few moments and then an image pops up. He sees a large grayish green looking man with bright red tattoos.

“Oh, Hello Yondu. Are you looking for Quill?” Before he can answer, Drax turns and yells behind himself. “QUILL! Your father is on the communicator! He needs to speak with you!”

Yondu leans his face onto his fist and rolls his eyes. These “Guardians” are really somethin’…

From the distance, Yondu can hear Peter yell back, “My Father? What the heck are you talkin’ about Drax?” Peter comes into view and see’s Yondu’s unamused expression on screen. “Oh, hey ol’ man, what’s up?”

“I got somethin’ I need ta talk with ya about, but it seems like yer a little busy.”

“Nah, it’s fine. I was just helpin’ Rocket with some plans for a new blaster that launches explosives! We just left Xandar, we were picking up some supplies. What did you need?” Quill asks.

“This ain’t an easy thing ta talk about…do ya think ya could go to another room er somethin’? I don’t need everybody hearin’ all about it.”

Peter’s expression turns a mixture of concerned and awkward. “Uhh…yeah sure. Is everything okay?” he moves Yondu’s transmission onto a handheld communicator and heads to the back of the ship. He enters his quarters and closes the door. “Okay, shoot.”

Yondu takes a deep breath, and exhales slowly to try and calm his nerves. “Long story short, Krags and I hired a new Terran girl to help with record keeping, transmission logs and mission details and stuff. We’ve gotten close over that time and now, well…she’s ma girl.”

“Woah! Yondu! She’s really Terran?! That’s so awesome man! I always knew you had it in you. What’s her name?”

“Her name’s y/n, and she’s really somethin’. I never met anyone like her. She’s really special ta me, but there’s somethin’ else I need to ask ya.”

“Okay…”

“The other day we made a stop out at Knowhere to sell some stuff, and she said somethin’ ta me. We both kinda panicked, but I think it might’a been my fault. See, she told me she loved me, but she said it so casually and it came out so natural soundin’. I didn’t expect it at all, and I didn’t exactly say anything back. She freaked out and ran off. Now, I don’t know what ta do! Is that normal fer Terrans?”

“Wow, okay. That’s a lot to unpack. So, let me ask you this. Do you love her?”

“Well, see that’s the other thing I need to ask ya. I don’t exactly know what that is. Boy, I ain’t Terran, and I ain’t no good with this love stuff. I figured, with ya bein’ Terran ‘n all, you might know what it means ta love someone and maybe ya’d know if that’s what y/n and I have.” Yondu’s expression turns sheepish, and he rubs the back of his neck as he waits for Peter’s answer.

“Oh, that’s easy! Love is something that happens between two people, and it’s a feeling that is super strong. You feel like you can do anything – unstoppable almost. Some people say it makes you feel like you’re floating, like you could almost fly. There’re loads of movies about love I remember from being a kid. The point is, you’d do anything to see them smile, you want to always make sure they’re happy and cared for. Gamora is in a similar boat with you, but we work on it.” Peter’s smile grows at the mention of Gamora.

“Well shit…” Yondu stares at something on his control council. “Okay, so yeah…I think that about pins it down.”

“So, you love her?” Peter asks.

“Heh, yeah boy, I guess I do.”

“Alright, well there you go! Look man, love is supposed to be easy. That’s not to say that you won’t have any disagreements or the occasional fight. That’s normal, but let go and just try to fall in.”

“Yeah, that makes sense. So, I guess all that’s left ta do is go tell her. Right?”

“Right.” Peter crosses his arms confidently and glances off screen. “Anything else you need? Rocket sounds like he’s getting pissed. I want to make sure he doesn’t blow something up or break anything.”

“Yeah boy, that’s it. But listen, thanks. I was at ma wits end over here.”

“No problem, Yondu. Now go tell her!” Peter laughs.

“Alright, alright. I’m goin’!” Yondu ends the call, and heads off the Warbird to find you.

Yondu starts to make his way back to the bars when he notices you and Kraglin walking to his smaller M-ship. The captain makes his way toward you in the snow, and you stop short.

Kraglin notices you stop. “Ey, it’s okay. You should talk to ‘em. I’ll see ya back on the Eclector?” He says as he reassuringly pats your shoulder.

“Yeah, okay.”

“Comm me if ya need anythin’.”

Kraglin walks past Yondu and nods, and he boards his small craft. You stuff your hands in your pockets and watch Yondu approach you.

“Hey, uh…” he starts. “I was wonderin’ if we could talk? Things have been a little off since the other day. Can I take ya back to the Warbird?”

“Yeah, I think that would be fine. We do need to talk.”

As the two of you walk to the Warbird, Yondu throws his arm over your shoulder to pull you closer. The warmth and weight of his arm makes your heart flutter. The feeling of security and safety brings a quiet smile to your face. Yondu glances at you from the corner of his eye and smiles too. It’s at this point he remembers what he is about to do. Anxiety strikes him in the chest and he can feel his heart begin to race. He swallows, and closes the door to the M-ship after you step inside with him.

You take a seat in the copilot chair and wait for him to speak first.

“Y/n, there’s somethin’ I been thinkin’ about and I really need to get it off ma chest. The other day, in yer office…well…” he looks down at the floor and begins to pace. “What I’m tryin’ ta say is – shit…this is harder than I thought it was gonna be.”

You get a bad nervous feeling in the pit of your stomach. Yondu can’t seem to find the right words and he’s pacing the ship even further. He’s going to break up with me, oh my god, he is about to break up with me. You can feel tears beginning to form, and he turns to face you. Your thoughts have apparently been written all over your face.

“Oh, no. No darlin’ it ain’t like that. I swear on all the stars, it ain’t nothin’ like that. Look, when ya told me ya loved me the other day, I didn’t know what ta do. No one has ever told me they loved me before. I wadn’t sure what love even meant, let alone how ta love somebody else. Love ain’t exactly somethin’ I’m used to. But now, I think I understand – at least a little.” He takes your hands and pulls you to your feet. With deep pull of breath, he finally gets the courage.

“I love ya too sweetheart. I do. No woman has ever made me so damn crazy before. Ya get inside ma head, make my hands all shaky, and when ya look at me ma heart races out of ma chest. I can’t even begin ta tell ya how outta the norm this is fer me. Heh.” His crooked smile shows how unsure he is. But you can tell that he means every word. You don’t have any words for him in return. His confession was more than you expected, so you pull him toward you for a tender kiss. He wraps you in his strong arms and returns your kiss happily. You both get so lost in each other that you almost forget to breathe. You break away from him and gingerly bite your lip.

“So…now what?” He asks.

“Well, now, we just keep doing what we’re doing. Build and grow, one day at a time. Don’t worry, I’ll show you how.” With a smirk, you head toward the dining area of the ship to get some water.

“Y/n, there’s somethin’ else I been thinkin’ about. What do ya say we make another stop? The crew will be well off for a while, and we have some downtime ahead. I have an idea I’ve been sittin’ on fer a while.”

“Sure, what’s your idea?”

He takes a seat next to you and taps on the table a few times. “I was wantin’ ta take ya back ta Terra fer a visit. Maybe we could find yer family. I know how much ya miss ‘em, and it would bring ‘em some closure. I can imagine they’d be thrilled ta know yer safe…and I wouldn’t mind meetin’ ‘em. If ya think it’d be alright?”

“Back to Earth!? Are you serious?! Yondu! Yes, yes! Oh my god, I can’t believe it!!” You jump into his arms and kiss him excitedly. “It’s been so long. I’d love to show you where I grew up and, well, my family might be a bit shocked – but they’ll get over it.”

“Alright, then. It’s a done deal. I’ll let the crew finish up their…merriment, and we’ll get headed that way.”

In the back of his mind, Yondu knows this is a huge risk. There is chance you’ll find your family, and you might want to stay. If he takes you back to your home, he could lose you forever. However, he understands now, that he’d do anything to make you happy. Even it that happiness takes you away from him.

#Yondu and The Secretary #yondu x reader #Yondu Udonta #gotg fanfiction #fanfic #Starlord #peter quill #love #galactic #kraglin obfonteri #kraglin

32 notes · View notes

dickgrcyscns · 3 years

Text

You Don’t Have To Love Me

You Don’t Have To Love Me, Obi-Wan Kenobi.

Summary: In which you (fem!reader) find yourself falling more and more in love with your fellow Jedi, but you know you’re not supposed to have feelings like that.

Set During: Clone Wars Era

Word Count: 1,391 words

Gif used not mine!

Something in your heart stammered, you wanted to scream from the balcony with a fervor you had never thought of before. But your voice caught in your throat each time you tried to speak, you wanted to say something, say anything. The wind caused a slight chill to run down your spine, your eyes gathered tears as you continued to think. Obi-Wan and Anakin were due to be back any minute, to have tales of an epic fight that they were able to solve. Those tales wouldn't help to ease the anxiety you felt when they were gone, the dread that filled every crevice of your core. How would you survive without two of the most important people in your life — even if they did not know that.

The door closed with a shock, the sound reaching your ears as you sat on the balcony. Sighing, you turned to look at the two men as they sat themselves on the couch in the loft. You walked back in to check on them, shutting the sliding window out to the balcony as you did so.

"Was it a successful mission?" You spoke on the way to the kitchen. Your eyes drifted over to the men, looking at them as they sighed.

"If successful includes leaving with one or two extra scars then yes," Anakin responded first, his voice hoarse. You rolled your eyes, grabbing down two cups from from her cabinet and fixing them a glass of water. With the cups in hand, you walked out to sit in front of them.

"Well, better a few scars than a deadly injury," you mumbled as she placed the glasses in front of them. Your legs crossed over one another, biting your lip as you waited to see if either of them were going to speak.

"The mission went as planned," Obi-Wan nodded lightly, "however it would have gone a lot smoother if Anakin wasn't so impulsive."

"I took the shot when I thought it was right!" You laughed lightly, Anakin had never been any different. He had always been trigger happy and ready to fire if he thought he had the shot — sometimes it worked in his favor but many times it did not.

"Right, well," Obi-Wan shrugged, "it didn't end up too well for you, did it?"

"No," Anakin sounded defeated, "no it did not."

"Have you guys already reported to the council?" You asked Anakin, keen on making sure he got back to Padme — though you would never let him know that you knew of anything going on between them. Anakin nodded, "We came by here to show you we're okay. You always seem to worry so much about us when we're gone."

"Well I can see you're okay," you smiled, "and I'm sure you have sleep you need to catch up on right? Go ahead you two, if anything you deserve it more than anyone." You smiled at the two, grabbing their water cups. Anakin stood up and followed after the woman, double-checking that Obi-Wan was far out of reach to hear them.

"We both know why you get yourself worked up," Anakin joked to you. You sighed, leaning against the counter as she shook her head.

"It's not just that Ani and you know it."

"Oh, is it really now?"

"Ani," you laughed lightly, "I've cared for you since you were this little," your hand reached her waist, "you're like the son I can never have."

Anakin smiled, grasping you for a hug that you gladly returned. Your eyes closed as you savored the warmth, it reminded you of when you were a child on Iego and would run the fields outside of the small hut your father had built. But the hug ended, something that you would hold close to a memory for the two. Something you would be able to look back on when they went on missions again, when you weren’t able to make sure they were okay. You placed you hand on his cheek, tapping it lightly as you looked at his eyes. Longing. You knew he wanted to go to the person he loved, to have one peaceful night next to her.

"Go get some sleep, Ani, you need it," Anakin laughed as you dropped your hand.

"Do I look that bad?" He retorted on his way to the door, your response being just a raised brow. You shook your head once he left the room, eyes focusing solely on the man that made your heart do flips.

"Obi? Are you okay?" You placed a soft hand on his shoulder, breaking him from his deep-set thoughts. His blue hues looked up to you, the color instantly devouring your senses. Your breath caught off a small amount of time, you didn't know what to do or how to function. You knew then it was past a stage of just a crush — though you had known for longer than just in that moment. But it was there, looking into his eyes as he glanced so lightly at you, that you realized.

"I think I should ask yourself that, Y/n," you smiled in response, removing your hand from his clothed shoulder. Oh what you would have done to have it be the exact opposite. You blinked a few times to get that image out of your head, trying to clear every thought you had of him just sitting in your mind.

"I'm good," you laughed, "I worked with the younglings again today. They got a lesson on knowing the planetary system this time." You smiled after the thought of the young kids and their reactions to the things you spoke about. It made your heart swell, the way that their eyes widened in excitement or curiosity and the noises they would make each time you would ask them a question. You had memorized their names, each one making a notch in her heart as you knew you would watch them grow up.

"I'm sure that was quite the lesson," Obi-Wan smiled at you, making your stomach fill with butterflies. You looked away quickly, hoping that the nerves would subside without looking at him. You knew he would notice it, how elusive you were being to looking at him and all. "Have I done something to bother you? You don't seem to want to speak to me."

You took a moment before you continued, "No, you haven't done anything Obi." You took a quick breath before you continued on, "Actually I think this ones all on myself, I—" you cut yourself off before you could continue to speak. Obi-Wan's eyes were trained on you, brows furrowed in worry.

"You what?"

"I love you," your voice was barely above a whisper, but you knew he had heard it. "It's okay, you don't have to love me back." But it would be great if you did, you thought.

He stared at you for a moment. Had you just jumped and ruined a friendship with someone you cared about, someone you felt the complete and utter need to see. His mouth opened and closed wordlessly a few times, bringing a hand to stroke his beard as he thought. You could hear your heartbeat, pounding against your skull as he took his time in thought. However he never said word, instead he stood up and walked across to you, his hand reaching out to your cheek. You hadn't noticed the tears falling from your eyes until then, your physical reaction happened much quicker than your mental reaction.

And then he placed his lips on top of yours, a breathless encounter for the two of you. Your mind was in scrambles, you were rushing to put pieces back together all while finally having the kiss you so desperately craved from the man you’ve loved for years. His forehead laid upon yours, eyes staring directly at each other. This thumb rubbed soothing circles onto your cheek, a smile gracing his own face.

"Say the word and I'll leave the council," Obi-Wan whispered onto your lips, "we can have a small farm of our own, children that we'll teach the ways of the force like your father did."

"It's not a fun life to live, Obi," your hands ran through his auburn locks, "but for you I would live through it."

#obi wan kenobi x reader #obi wan x reader #obi-wan #obi wan #obi-wan kenobi imagines #obi #obi-wan kenobi #obi-wan/reader #star wars #imagines #Star Wars imagines

114 notes · View notes

luvvewan · 3 years

Note

EEEE can you do 11?? Obi wan and qui gon JA time period? :D

Thank you very much for the prompt, @general-flame ! ❤️ I realized after writing this blurb that you specified Jedi Apprentice and this actually follows new canon/Master and Apprentice. I hope you enjoy it anyway but feel free to send send another JA prompt and I’ll try to be more observant! 😬

11. “I need you to breathe for me. Slowly – in and out.”

—

(then)

When Obi-Wan opened his eyes, the first thing he saw was the bleary afternoon sky above him, sullen and swollen with dark clouds. He immediately vomited, and his confused head thought it must be rain water, this tepid liquid rushing up from his guts.

He tried to take a deep breath, but made a clumsy gulping sound instead. Warm pressure settled on the nape of his neck, and he felt the Force, suffused with healing, yet strained.

Panicked.

He tried to wrench away from the touch. His fingers dug into the grainy earth. He tasted the grain—no, sand—in the back of his throat. It was going to fill his lungs, but he wretched again. He could not stop, overtaken by great, shuddering heaves, the Force more shadowed than the sky, dark with fear.

I should not be afraid to die.

I am Jedi.

Hands beat on his back, while another clutched his arm, keeping him upright, although he was very tired and his vision had dissolved along the edges. A vice squeezed his lungs, the hand squeezed his arm. Voices drifted down from the clouds.

“Obi-Wan—“

“Steady now. Breathe, kid.”

Two voices; he didn’t recognize the second. He tried to obey it anyway, letting the order override his body’s twitchy, mindless reactions. Obi-Wan spit out wet sand, but didn’t vomit, which allowed a thin stream of air through. Then more. The sharp pinch in his chest eased. He wanted to suck in the clean, sweet air, glut himself on it. He sputtered instead, and the hand moved along his spine, wide palm stroking up and down.

“Easy,” A different voice, lower, closer. “Focus on calming your heart.”

Master. He was suddenly shaking, even though it was the opposite of what Qui-Gon wanted, and there was a skittering flurry in the Force, and he realized his heart was pounding as if it wanted to burst out of him. He was going to puke, ohhh—-

“Qui-Gon, he’s—“

“I know.”

Despite the cacophony in his ears, Obi-Wan could hear the disappointment there. He blinked up, forcing his eyes to center on the vague face-shape hovering above him. Water dripped onto him, this time from the ends of Qui-Gon’s long hair. He was looking at Obi-Wan.

Blue eyes striated with grey. Like the sea.

Obi-Wan coughed and shivered. “What,” he started to say, but was unconscious before he could finish the question.

What do you know?

—-

(now)

“N-N…”

“I need you to breathe for me.”

Obi-Wan choked and sputtered.

“Slowly-in and out,” Qui-Gon braced his Padawan’s shoulders in an attempt to ground him. Though instinctively he wanted to draw the trembling young man closer, Qui-Gon remained at the edge of the sofa, giving Obi-Wan space. In the chaos of the moment, it was difficult to remember the healer’s suggestions, but he was getting better at it.

Unfortunately, Qui-Gon had already been provided several opportunities to practice.

The Force energy surrounding Obi-Wan pulsed with rapid, unfiltered emotion—confusion, panic, fear. Qui-Gon felt the echoes of terror, as clearly as he could still hear the desperate gasps from that day, weeks ago. When the attacks came, Obi-Wan sounded like he was struggling for air.

Drowning.

“Do you want the lights on?” Qui-Gon asked softly.

Obi-Wan’s eyes were screwed shut; after a few seconds he nodded.

Qui-Gon waved on a glow lamp. The common area of his quarters looked aggressively normal, unaffected, their tea cups from earlier in the evening still sitting on the end table. It was only the blanket, thrown onto the floor, that spoke of any unease.

He picked it up, shook it out and draped it over Obi-Wan’s shoulders. “That’s it. You’re doing better. In and out.”

Obi-Wan opened his eyes and looked at Qui-Gon. His chest was still fluttering spastically, but as the minutes passed, he took more and more control, until at last the wild-bright panic faded. Obi-Wan sagged against the sofa.

“Well done.” He held Obi-Wan’s gaze, something that had been hard to do, as of late. He wondered when he would be able to look in those gray eyes again without remembering how they had widened with terror, silently pleading for help. Qui-Gon had failed his Padawan that day.

And now Obi-Wan was staying with him, rather than in the apprentice dorms. Obi-Wan had insisted it was unnecessary, embarrassed by Qui-Gon’s offer. But he was not sleeping, and Qui-Gon could not sleep either, imagining his Padawan in the throes of these ruthless attacks, alone.

He had made enough mistakes with this young man. He would do what he could to fix it.

Obi-Wan was glancing around the room, as if discreetly scanning for danger.

Qui-Gon understood that it was a side effect of the anxiety and trauma. As the soul healer explained it, Obi-Wan’s close call triggered primitive responses in his brain. His body currently perceived threats even in safe places, like his Master’s rooms in the Temple.

Or perhaps he is right to sense danger here, a niggling voice in the back of his head pointed out. After all, you did not protect him. Far from it.

He gingerly squeezed Obi-Wan’s knee. “I’ll get you some water.”

Obi-Wan blinked. In the weak amber light, he looked younger than his twenty years. “Alright. Thanks.”

Qui-Gon glanced at the chrono when he walked into the small kitchen. Close to daybreak. So it would be another early morning. He returned with a glass of cool water.

Obi-Wan took it with a quiet ‘thank you’ and sipped. His hair was flattened on one side of his head, the other half standing in riotous spikes. Qui-Gon had begun to believe the regulation Padawan cut in human males existed to endear them to their teachers. He smiled and smoothed the sweaty hair with his palm.

He noticed Obi-Wan’s mouth tense and his eyes dropped to the glass in his hands.

“You have no reason to be ashamed, young one.”

Obi-Wan snorted. “No, of course not. All senior apprentices lose their minds and have to sleep on their Master’s couch.”

It was meant partially in jest, but the words twisted Qui-Gon’s heart nonetheless. He set the glass on the table and leaned back on the sofa, crossing his arms over his sleep robe. “You have not lost your mind. Healer Che said this is not uncommon after a traumatic event.”

“Nor is it common.” Obi-Wan started to fiddle with his braid, then caught himself. “I don’t see how it’s especially traumatic,” he confessed, looking at Qui-Gon with bloodshot eyes. “I just need to learn how to swim.”

—

They were Temple-bound while Obi-Wan recovered. Unlike a physical injury, the parameters for mental recovery were ill-defined. Obi-Wan went to appointments with a soul healer; he rarely spoke of what was discussed in the sessions. Qui-Gon got the impression that his Padawan firmly wanted to move on, and was both irritated and discouraged by the attacks.

Qui-Gon wanted to move on too, of course. He and Obi-Wan had only just begun to mend their relationship after the fateful mission to Pijal, and Qui-Gon’s near-acceptance of the Council seat.

He sat on a bench in a less-traveled area of the Gardens. His eyes burned from interrupted sleep. The episodes were becoming much more frequent, nearly every night. He worried for Obi-Wan, who was currently sitting in a lecture, undoubtedly exhausted.

If he was a more experienced Master, would this all be easier? Over and over, he grappled with the idea that Obi-Wan needed someone like Mace, or even Yoda. The boy was so different from him. He never knew if he was providing Obi-Wan with the tools he needed to thrive, as a Jedi or as a person. Pijal had proved to Qui-Gon he could not give Obi-Wan up, nor were their problems insurmountable. He had returned to Coruscant with hope, and turned the Council’s offer down.

And then, on their very next mission following Pijal, Obi-Wan almost drowned.

Since then, Qui-Gon’s thoughts dwelled on a conversation he’d had with Obi-Wan, back when he still intended to join the Council.

“I’ve never taught you to swim, have I, Obi-Wan?”

“No, Master. But I know how—well, a little bit.”

“We’ll practice. Every Jedi should be able to swim like a Mon Calamari.” *

He could forgive some mistakes he had made as Obi-Wan’s mentor. Obi-Wan was his first Padawan, assigned to him by Master Yoda, and there were bound to be stumbling blocks. In this case, Qui-Gon had no excuse. For years, it had not occurred to him to ask Obi-Wan if he knew how to swim.

He had assumed, as with so much else in this relationship—assumed somewhere along the way, Obi-Wan had learned how to swim. He should have taken Obi-Wan to the Temple pools as soon as they returned from Pijal, as he had pledged to do.

Their lives were busy. He had forgotten.

He cleared his throat, looking out at the vibrant greenery. He remembered swimming with Master Dooku. Qui-Gon could swim, and swim well, before his first proper mission as a Padawan. Why had he let so many things slip with Obi-Wan? Admittedly, in the beginning, Qui-Gon had felt shades of resentment towards the boy, foisted upon him when he had not asked for such a sudden and complete change. Yet he had grown to care deeply for Obi-Wan, despite their differences. He thought he had done his best.

Pijal had opened his eyes. But not enough, or else he would have corrected the vital lapse in Obi-Wan’s skills as soon as he was made aware.

“We’ll practice.”

There were nightmares of his own, in which he was too late, and Obi-Wan did not…he refused to give the image life or dimension now, in the Gardens, amid other Jedi and the optimistic light of day. Yoda would tell him not to dwell on what-ifs. Certainly Qui-Gon had been reminded recently enough that dreams were easily misinterpreted.

He would bring up the swimming lesson with Obi-Wan, he decided. It was a start.

—

*dialogue excerpts taken from the novel Master and Apprentice by Claudia Gray

#star wars #obi-wan kenobi #qui-gon jinn #obi-wan #master and apprentice #qui-gon and obi-wan fanfic #prompts #luvewan fanfic

19 notes · View notes

little-mad · 3 years

Text

Downsides of Thievery Pt. 9

~ Previous Part ~ Next Part ~

After departing from the stream, it only took about fifteen minutes before Rael and his passenger reached the edge of Ostrad. The moment they broke through the treeline, Rael was greeted by the familiar sight of home.

Despite being the location in which the Emperor resided, Ostrad was not the largest city in the realm. This was due in large part to the fact that the city had originally only been built as a secondary residence for the Emperor. However, over a century ago a flood in the former Imperial Capital had forced it to be relocated to Ostrad.

That being said, looking from Gavin to the bustling city that loomed ahead of them, Ostrad looked positively massive. A slight frown tugged at the corners of Rael’s lips. The most direct route to the palace was straight through town, down the main boulevard and up to the main gates. However, going that way would require walking past a great many alteons. With so many people around, there was a high risk of accidents happening, whether intentional or not.

Having spent his youth running up and down the streets of Ostrad, Rael was quite familiar with its layout. He created a mental image of the city in his mind, mapping out the different potential routes they could take. After several moments of deliberation, he decided on a path that snaked along beside the outer wall. Such a route was more winding and less direct than going straight through the city, but it would decrease their chances of encountering other alteons significantly. After the encounter with Kaydin, Rael was simply not ready to subject Gavin to the possibility of being grabbed again.

Rael glanced down at his hands. He was surprised the human had kept quiet for so long and not interrupted Rael’s contemplation once. The reason became quite clear as he noticed Gavin staring at the nearby city with wide eyes. “Right, this is his first time seeing any kind of alteon civilization.”

Gavin’s expression was a mixture of shock, awe, and fear--which Rael supposed was a reasonable reaction. Even putting the size aside, the architecture was likely entirely foreign to the human. The structures in the human city Rael had seen had certainly seemed very different from alteon craftsmanship.

As if he could feel Rael’s gaze on him, Gavin looked up. “It’s like I got transported into a medieval movie,” he breathed in disbelief.

Rael blew out a soft sigh, the breeze ruffling Gavin’s crop of brown hair. “I don’t know what that means,” he told the human. Both the words “medieval” and “movie” were foriegn to him. He assumed they weren’t important words, considering he hadn’t learnt them during his study of human language.

“Oh right,” Gavin said with a light chuckle. “Nevermind then.” Although he appeared to be making an effort to hide it, Rael suspected the sight of the city had caused some nervousness to develop in Gavin. The little guy’s energy levels seemed slightly lower than they had earlier.

“Alright,” Rael carefully moved the hand holding Gavin up a bit so he didn’t have to tilt his head down so much to look him in the eye. “I’m going to take you around the edge of the city,” he began. “Our chances of running into anyone are low, but I’m going to keep you hidden from sight anyways.” While it wasn’t necessarily a secret that a human was being brought to the Emperor, Rael considered it safer if no one even laid eyes on Gavin until they were safely ensconced in the palace.

“I guess there’s not gonna be a parade held in my honor then,” Gavin joked, mock disappointment in his tone.

Rael shook his head. Not even the human diplomats and politicians that had visited the palace received any sort of celebratory welcome. “Consider yourself lucky you’re even getting to ride in my hands rather than the cage,” he snipped.

If Gavin had thought he’d been being smothered before, the situation he was in now was on a whole other level. He still sat in the center of Rael’s palm, but now his entire view of the outside world was obscured. Rael’s free hand caged Gavin in against the giant chest, leaving him in the dark except for the small slivers of light that filtered in between the massive fingers.

While Gavin was effectively trapped, he knew the action wasn’t hostile this time. In fact, it was actually meant to be for his own good. That wasn’t to say Gavin was happy with the arrangement. Despite how intimidating it had been, he had kind of wanted to take in the sights of the alteon city. Though, after the encounter with Kaydin, he could understand Rael’s reasoning for wanting to keep him hidden.

“God, I don’t think I’ve been this close to someone else in...well who knows how long,” Gavin thought to himself. He wasn’t really opposed to physical contact, in fact he had a tendency to maybe be a little bit too handsy at times. However, most of his friends and acquaintances were opposed to physical contact, and so would throw Gavin off whenever he greeted them with an overenthusiastic hug or overzealous handshake.

Now all of a sudden he was being effectively cradled by a literal giant. Gavin ran a hand down his face. How the hell had his life gotten so goddamn weird? Of course, his life was bound to be pretty unconventional as soon as he chose stealing as a career path--but come on, this was beyond bizarre.

“There’s a couple people up ahead, keep quiet,” Rael ordered in a hushed voice.

The urge to scream at the top of his lungs in order to freak out the alteons was quite strong for Gavin. He could only imagine the looks on their faces would be priceless as they tried to figure out who or what had made the noise when Rael’s mouth obviously hadn’t moved. But as funny as that would be, the risk of another Kaydin situation was too great. Not to mention the fact that he would no doubt incur Rael’s wrath. Although, that might actually be funny in its own right…

Suddenly he heard an unfamiliar woman’s voice say something that sounded kind of like a greeting.

Rael gave a perfectly polite, but perfectly simple reply. He slowed his pace ever so slightly, but never came to a stop. Gavin was just fine with that, he wasn’t really interested in having to listen in on small talk while stuck in Rael’s hands.

As they got closer and closer to the palace, the reality of Gavin’s situation was beginning to slowly set in. Surviving the journey to the palace had proven to be a challenge in and of itself, so much so that he hadn’t really stopped for long to consider what was waiting for him when he finally reached his destination. He knew his fate was entirely in the hands of this dimension’s emperor, but he hadn’t the slightest idea what kind of fate that might be. “I’m a criminal being brought in to be judged for a crime, it’s not like whatever it is is going to be good,” Gavin reminded himself solemnly.

“Do you guys have a rule against cruel and unusual punishment here?” Gavin asked Rael, his voice just loud enough to be heard by the giant.

“You’re supposed to be keeping quiet,” Rael immediately scolded, sounding more exasperated than actually angry.

“Is there anyone around right now?” Gavin inquired.

“No, but--”

“Then please just answer the question.” Gavin didn’t like the way his voice sounded, notes of anxiety and fear were obvious in it. Rael was perceptive, he would undoubtedly pick up on it, even if Gavin had spoken very quietly.

There was a long pause. Gavin began to wonder whether Rael planned to just ignore the question and remain silent, but then, “There aren’t rules for punishments, there are precedents.” Rael spoke so quietly Gavin doubted an alteon standing right beside them would be able to discern the words. “The current emperor is known for his fair but firm sentences,” Rael explained. “But you will be the first human he has ever judged, so it’s difficult to predict exactly what he might decide.”

Gavin didn’t really know what to make of that. He supposed it was good to hear that the Emperor wasn’t known for being sadistically cruel. However, the fact that Gavin would be the first human to ever be sentenced in this dimension wasn’t exactly encouraging. What if the Emperor wanted to make an example of him--to send a message to all humans that going against alteons was a horrible mistake?

“There’s no use fretting over it,” Rael whispered. Gavin knew he was right, and normally worrying about things he couldn’t control wasn’t really his style. Rolling with the punches was a part of being a good thief. But with so many unknowns in front of him, Gavin was having a hard time not letting his worst fears intrude upon his mind.

Honestly, Gavin’s question had thrown Rael off guard. He himself had been pondering what the future might hold for the human, but he hadn’t really stopped to think about how the weight of the unknown might be weighing on the little man himself.

At the start, the fate that might await the human criminal hadn’t mattered much to Rael. Whether Gavin was imprisoned for life, kept as the Emperor’s pet, or simply slapped on the wrist--it hadn’t mattered to him. All he’d been concerned with was delivering the human to the palace and getting the unwanted assignment over with.

Things had changed. Now Rael found himself feeling almost...nervous about what the Emperor might decide. After all, now he knew that Gavin wasn’t the one truly at fault for stealing from the diplomat. He had been nothing more than a pawn. Of course, the Emperor didn’t know that. “Should I...should I try to tell him?” he asked himself. However, he was quick to dismiss that thought. Speaking out of turn to the Emperor was a sure fire way to damage his reputation, which was something Rael simply couldn’t allow.

“I’ll just have to trust the Emperor's judgement,” Rael told himself. The ruler of the realm seemed a wise and just man. Despite being fairly young for his position, the Emperor had already made a name for himself as one of the best rulers the realm had ever seen. Surely Rael could trust him to make the right decision regarding Gavin.

It was just then that one of the servant’s entrances into the palace came into view. The door, typically used by cooks, maids, and other domestic servants, was always guarded by a single soldier. Today, the guard was familiar to Rael, but he didn’t know the woman well enough to know her name.

“Returning from an assignment?” the guard asked, apparently recognizing him as a member of the Imperial Guard despite his lack of uniform. She seemed confused as to why Rael would use this entrance rather than one of the ones specified for the Imperial Guard, but it didn’t appear as though she was going to press for information.

Rael nodded. “Yes, that is correct,” he replied. All of the palace guards were aware a human would be arriving soon, but this woman clearly didn’t realize that she was speaking to the one who had been tasked with retrieving said human.

“Welcome back then, head on in,” she said with a polite smile. Rael was thankful she didn’t ask about the specifics of his assignment, he really wasn’t in the mood to explain it all to her, nor was he eager to show Gavin to her. Despite now being at the palace, Rael, for whatever reason, preferred to keep Gavin hidden as long as possible.

#g/t #giant/tiny #g/t writing #my writing #oc: gavin stone #oc: rael

37 notes · View notes

davidpastrsnack · 4 years

Text

drive (pt. 2) - matthew tkachuk

a/n: ngl i’m not obsessed with this chapter. it’s kind of a filler but i promise things will get more juicy in the next one. hope you enjoy and let me know what you think!

part one

Your eyebrows furrowed at his words as you looked at him in complete shock.

You must have been hearing things, because there was no way Matthew just asked you to move to Calgary with him.

“What?” you exclaimed. “You’re right, I do think you’re crazy,” you said with a chuckle.

Matthew sat up straighter in the chair preparing to make his case, your body shifting with his.

“Why? You’re just going to live at home while you try to figure out this job stuff, so why not do it with me in Calgary?” he spoke like it was the most obvious thing ever.

He was dead serious about this.

“Matthew, it's not that simple. I can’t just pick up and move with no plan. And to a different country? There’s a little thing called a border.”

“I’ll have my agent help with anything you need for your visa and I have a spare bedroom. Come on, Y/N. No offense to them, but do you want to spend your first year out of college living with your parents or with me?” he questioned.

You rolled your eyes at his comment, you knew he loved your parents but he had a point. Still, there was just no way this would work out. You had only met some of his teammates once before, and now you’re just supposed to join their circle? Not to mention your feelings for him were at the forefront of your mind. You felt lucky that you never had to watch girl after girl fall at his feet because that wasn’t his life back home. It was a perfect example of ignorance is bliss. Moving to the city with him would rip that ignorance away and you didn’t know if you could handle that.

You were silent for a minute, the only sound being the crackling of the fire and the crickets. You looked down and played with the sleeves of his sweatshirt, trying to gather your thoughts as he gazed at you hopefully.

“Matty,” you started, “I appreciate you trying to help me, but I don’t see this happening. I don’t even have a job, how am I supposed to pay for a huge move like this?” you asked, not expecting an answer, but he had one anyway.

“Is that a joke?” He laughed. “Not to sound like an asshole, but have you seen my contract? Y/N, I have more money than I’ll ever know what to do with.”

You rolled your eyes at him, “When have you ever tried not to sound like an asshole.”

He scoffed right back, but the words that followed were his most sincere of the night. “Just think about it, please, Y/N. I hate to see you so stressed about everything, you don’t deserve it. So just let me take care of you,” he whispered, looking up at you with the softest eyes.

Your heart ached at his words. No matter how much you denied it, you were completely and utterly fucked for this man. If you went with him you knew it would only be a matter of time before you exposed yourself, which would most likely result in your lifelong friendship blowing up. You couldn’t let that happen.

But before you could speak again, he opened his mouth, “Listen, I’m not letting you say no tonight. Sleep on it.”

“Fine,” you groaned, standing up from your post across his thighs. “I’ll think about it.”

He jumped up after you, throwing his arm around your shoulders pulling you in close while you both walked towards the house.

“Just think about how much fun we’re gonna have. It’s cold though, you’re gonna have to get over that,” he chirped with a cheeky grin.

“Well good thing I haven’t said yes,” you teased back, slipping inside the door he held open for you.

-----

You woke up to the sun pouring through your windows, mentally cursing yourself for forgetting to close the curtains last night. You weren’t surprised though, your brain was absolute mush after hearing Matthew’s proposal. You rolled over to check your phone, the screen reading 7:12am.

“Fuck,” you mumbled into your pillow. Emma was still passed out next to you, the bright light not at all phasing her. You ran your hands over your face, pausing to tangle them in your hair. It was way too early, but you also knew there was no chance of falling back asleep, so you pulled yourself out of bed and headed into the bathroom.

You barely slept that night, there was just too much on your mind. The more you thought about it, you realized Matthew was right. It would be good for you to do something new during this time of your life. No matter how much you tried to resist it, you could feel him slowly but surely luring you in.

You headed downstairs into the kitchen, needing caffeine immediately if you were going to be awake this early. You had the whole space to yourself and you sat on top of the counter while you waited for the coffee machine to heat up. The house was quiet and the view of the lake was helping to calm all your uncertainties. The water was flat like glass, the reflection of the trees clear as a photograph. You quickly got lost in the peaceful image, not even hearing the front door open.

“Morning, sunshine,” you heard from behind you.

He may have been on a mini vacation this weekend, but Matthew still started training camp in two weeks. He had clearly just come back from a run, his tall frame standing in front of you in just a pair of sneakers and basketball shorts. His toned chest was glistening with sweat and you had to physically pull your eyes away before he caught you staring.

“Morning,” you replied, returning your gaze to the windows.

“What are you doing down here? I’ve never seen you get up before ten unless you absolutely had to,” he spoke as he grabbed water from the fridge. Damn him for knowing you so well.

“Uh- I don’t know,” you nervously muttered, not wanting to admit that you were up all night thinking about him.

“Busy making up your mind?” he smirked, leaning against the countertop giving you the perfect view of his flexed arms.

You rolled your eyes, mumbling a thank you as he slid a cup of coffee towards you, made exactly how you liked it. The two of you sat there for a few minutes slowly sipping the hot liquid from the matching mugs. Matthew was busy texting Keith and his trainer, both making sure that he was staying on track while away from the gym, while you kept admiring the lake. It never failed to amaze you how comfortable you two were around each other. The room was silent, but it wasn’t awkward at all. In that moment you decided it was time to give him an answer, suddenly throwing all caution to the wind.

“Matty?” you asked, turning your body to face his as he sat on the stool next to you.

“Hmm?” he responded, putting his phone to the side and meeting your gaze.

You took in a long breath, wondering if you were really about to do this.

“I’ll go with you,” you spoke softly.

The grin that spread on his face was unmatched to anything else you had ever seen. The corners of his mouth were practically reaching his forehead and his baby blue eyes lit up at your words.

“I’m sorry, what was that? I didn’t quite hear you,” he teased, gloating in the fact that he convinced you.

“Matthew I will change my mind right now.”

“No, no way,” he stood up, stepping closer and wrapping you up in his arms, squeezing your frame tight as it sunk in that you were really coming with him.

Your body relaxed in his grasp, your arms slinking around his waist to hold him to you. His head rested on top of yours, both of you so at ease with the other.

“I promise you won’t regret it,” he whispered.

“You need to shower,” you joked, feeling like it was time to break the embrace. There was only so long friends could hug platonically and you guys were seconds away from crossing that line.

He laughed as he finally pulled away, “Whatever you say, roomie.”

“Roomie?”

Your head twisted to the other side of the room to see Brady standing in the hall. Great, you thought, just what you needed. It was one thing for you and Matthew to talk about this but you couldn’t deny that you were nervous to see everyone’s reactions, especially both of your families.

“Y/N is coming to Calgary with me,” Matthew stated. You waited for Brady’s next words, noting the warning glare his older brother was sending him.

“She is?” he raised his eyebrows, shifting his gaze to you. The look on his face was worth a thousand words: Brady was onto you.

But little did you know, he was also onto Matthew.

“Yup,” you anxiously laughed.

To say it was awkward would be the understatement of the century.

“Alright well I’m gonna go shower,” Matthew broke the silence, moving towards the staircase to go upstairs.

You and Brady nodded, neither one of you speaking until he was out of sight. Your eyes were focused on the cup of coffee in front you, refusing to make eye contact with him because you knew what was coming.

“You know, I don’t even think I need to say anything,” he started.

You scoffed louded at his words, standing up to go back into your room to get ready for the day. You weren’t in the mood for his teasing, especially not when it only reminded you of what you would never have.

“Y/N, wait,” he pleaded, his attitude quickly shifting, the regret clear in his voice.

“What, Brady?” you snapped, turning to face him.

“It’s not just you. He’s compared every girl to you for as long as I can remember.”

You shook your head at him in disbelief. There was no way that was true, and Brady was seriously messed up if he thought screwing with you like this was funny.

“Look, you don’t have to agree with me right now, but I’m giving you two a month of living together before you finally pull your heads out of your asses,” he stated confidently.

“Don’t hold your breath,” you chuckled, finally heading up the stairs.

-----

Just a week later you found yourself arriving at Calgary International Airport, Matthew right by your side. Your parents had been more supportive of your decision than you expected, but then again they had always loved Matthew. The two of you were sitting by the baggage claim waiting for your luggage when the exhaustion of the day finally hit. On top of that, the airline warned that there were baggage delays, so you didn’t plan on getting out of here soon. You didn’t mean to, but you let out an obnoxiously loud yawn as you caught up on your social media feeds.

“You alright there?” Matthew joked, looking at you with his eyebrows raised.

“Yes, dad, I’m fine,” you countered.

“I’m gonna go get coffee, we both need it. The usual?” he asked, standing up before you could tell him he didn’t have to get it for you.

You knew he wouldn’t take no for an answer, so you opted for a simple nod. Just a few moments later, a young boy who was with a man that you assumed was his father tentatively walked up to you.

“Hi, I’m so sorry to bother you, but was that Matthew Tkachuk?” the man inquired.

You smiled at them both, remembering that Matthew wasn’t exactly nobody in this city. “Yeah, it is.” The boy’s face lit up at your words, clearly a huge Flames fan.

“You guys can wait with me, he should be back any minute now and I’m sure he’d love to say hi,” you encouraged. No matter how well known Matthew had become, he always made the time to stop for kids.

The pair sat down across from your seat, patiently waiting for the hockey player’s return. It wasn’t long until you saw him walking back towards you, two coffees in hand. When he saw the people with you he had a quizzical look on his face, but you gave him a gentle nod to let him know it was okay. Once he got closer, he realized just what was happening.

“Hi there,” he smiled, “I’m Matthew.” He paused to hand you your coffee before shaking hands with the man and sinking down to his knees to fist bump the boy.

They settled into an easy conversation, the boy finally warming up after the shock of meeting one of his idols. Matthew was unbelievably good with kids, and no matter how many times you saw it, he still made your heart flutter each time. It came so naturally to him, and you couldn’t help but let your mind wander to how incredible of a father he was going to be someday. After you took some pictures and Matthew signed a few autographs, the pair went back to their own baggage carousel.

He settled back into his chair next to yours, sighing as he ran his hands through his brown curls.

“That was really nice of you, Matthew,”

“It’s nothing. I used to be that kid,” he said, trying to brush it off.

“I’m serious, you didn’t have to do that. You’re a great person when you want to be,” you teased.

“Yeah? And how’s that coffee I just went to get you?” he chirped right back, bumping his shoulder into yours with a grin across his face.

-----

After Matthew stubbornly refused to let you carry your own bags out, you two were finally sitting in the back of an Uber on the way to his apartment. It was nearly dusk and the city was lit up with the beautiful, golden light of the approaching sunset.

“It’s nice, isn’t it?” you heard from beside you, Matthew’s voice snapping you out of your daze.

“Yeah it is,” you smiled, meeting his gaze to find him already looking at you.

It didn’t take long for you to arrive at his building, Matthew stopping at the front desk to introduce you to the concierge. It was the first of what you assumed to be many times someone would be confused by your situation, and you knew you would soon get used to saying, “Oh no, we’re not- we’re just friends.”

After heading up the elevator and walking down the hall, Matthew unlocked his door, letting you walk in first as he followed.

“Wow, not bad,” you mumbled, taking in the interior. It was the definition of a bachelor’s pad, the dark, sleek design a clear reflection of his lifestyle.

“I just moved in at the end of last season so it’s missing some things, but yeah, it’s not bad,” he laughed.

You walked over to the floor length windows taking in the view of the lit up city around you. You crossed your arms over your chest, the fact that you were really here was definitely settling in. But something about it just felt right, like you belonged here. Matthew’s body slid next to yours, joining you to admire his home after so long away.

“I’ll show you around tomorrow and we can get dinner or something with the guys that are back already,” he spoke, pulling you into his side with his arm. Your head fell to rest on his shoulder. “I really want this to feel like home for you,” he said softly.

You slipped your arms around his torso reciprocating his embrace, “Thank you, Matty.”

“Let me show you your room,” he spoke as he grabbed your hand to guide you into the rest of the apartment.

You and Matthew spent the night unpacking and settling in. He ordered food, making sure to give you the rundown on all his favorite spots, before putting on a movie. After eating more than either of you should have, you found yourself cuddled into his side on the couch, a fuzzy blanket covering your bodies and his frame vibrating beneath you each time he laughed at the screen. You don’t remember when, but at some point you drifted off on his chest, only to be woken up to him carrying you to bed.

Yeah, you could get used to this.

#matthew tkachuk #matthew tkachuk imagine #nhl imagine #hockey imagine #my writing

323 notes · View notes

melisa-may-taylor72 · 4 years

Photo

QUEEN BEFORE QUEEN

THE 1960s RECORDINGS

➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖

PART 1:

BRIAN MAY, 1984 & THE LEFT HANDED MARRIAGE

JOHN S. STUART AND ANDY DAVIS DIG DEEP TO UNCOVER THE PREVIOUSLY UNDOCUMENTED AUDIO LEGACY OF ONE OF THE WORLD’S MOST CHERISHED BANDS.

This month the beginning and end of Queen come together like the cosy ending of a contrived Hollywood drama. While fans wait with bated breath for the band’s final album, “Made In Heaven" — completed by Brian May, John Deacon and Roger Taylor with the aid of Freddie Mercury’s last demos — author Mark Hodkinson launches a new book in which, in greater detail than has ever been attempted before, delves into the pre-fame histories of Queen’s musical antecedents.

With previously unpublished photographs of Roger Taylor's the Reaction, John Deacon’s the Opposítion and even more impressively, Freddie Mercury’s Sour Milk Sea, ‘Queen The Early Years’ is a treat fans have waited too long to read. Coincidentally, six months ago, we commissioned Queen historian, John S. Stuart, to research the definitive article on the band’s pre-fame recordings, and as you’ll see, the results complement Hodkinson’s broader picture with hitherto undocumented details of Queen's 60s recordings.

We've touched on Larry Lurex and Smile before, of course, but the vinyl output of those two acts barely scratches the surface, so to speak: literally hours and hours of privately- recorded material of Freddie, Brian, John and Roger survive to this day — as evidenced by the recent discovery of the Reaction’s ‘In The Midnight Hour’ acetate ( see RC 191). So, while the rest of the world comes to terms with the fact that Queen’s recording career is effectively at an end, we unravel the untold history of four individuals' first tentative steps in front of the microphone, beginning with the 1960′s exploits of Brian May. Next month, we’ll embrace Smile, and John, Roger and Freddie's hidden amateur recordings; but first, 1984 and the Left Handed Marriage.

1984

Around late August, or early September 1963, as the Beatles celebrated the birth of Beatlemania with sessions for their “With The Beatles” LP at EMI’s Abbey Road Studios in North London, another rock legend was developing just around the geographical corner. In a semi-detached house in Feltham, Middlesex, electronics engineer Harold May began an 18-month task, helping his sixteen-year-...[ ]

[ ]...old son, Brian, to construct the world's most famous home-made guitar, the ‘Red Special'. In the mean time, Brian would have to be content with thrashing away at the small Spanish acoustic his parents had bought him for his seventh birthday. (Brian evidently mislaid this childhood guitar shortly afterwards; and didn't see it again until 1991, when at a ‘reunion’ of former members of 1984, his schoolfriend and first musical collaborator, Dave Dilloway, returned it to him. Brian was so thrilled, that he featured the guitar in the video for Queen’s “Headlong" single).

By 1964, Brian and Dave Dilloway were already recording amateur duets together, and by linking up their two reel-to-reel tape docks, they discovered that they could lay down guitars on one machine, and perhaps bass, percussion and sometimes vocals on the other. Although the technique was crude, and despite the occasional disaster, the effect was often surprisingly good. One of the earliest tapes from these primitive recording sessions survives to this day, and features Brian belting out Bo Diddley’s eponymous R&B standard, "Bo Diddley".

“This is a mono quarter-inch, reel-to-reel I found buried among various other oddments from the era”, recalls Dave Dilloway. “It certanly dates from before the formation of 1984. It was recorded in Brian’s back room in Feltham, with Brian on lead vocals and guitar, and myself on bass and drums. The track is basic, but Brian’s vocals are clear and recognisable. The guitar playing is fairly basic as well, but competent, without any real solos as such”.

“ This is the only tape in my collection of those double-track recordings. I’m unsure whether Brian himself has retained the tapes we made at the time, but I believe he usually ended up with the finished versions, so he may still heve them somewhere.”

The duo also recorded four-track instrumental cover versions of several Shadows tunes — “Apache”, “FBI”, "Wonderful Land” and "The Rise And Fall Of Fingel Blunt” — as well as “Rambunkshush”, which they learned from the Shadows’ American counterparts, The Ventures. Also on the same tape is their reading of Chet Atkins' “Windy And Warm".

Yet another reel reveals an attempt at Cliff Richard’s "Bachelor Boy", on which Brian, once again, takes the lead vocal. Dave Dilloway's theory is probably correctt; May is known to have a meticulously catalogued personal collection of Queen (and pre-Queen) recordings and memorabilia, which almost certanlly contains unfathomable reels of similar early material.

In the autumn of 1964, Brian and Dave formed a rapidly-evolving band, through which many schoolmates passed, but which eventually settled with a line-up of bassist John 'Jag' Garnham, drummer Richard Thompson, and harmonica-playing vocalist Tim Staffell. After rejecting names such as the Mind Boggles and Bob Chappy & the Beetles, the quintet named themselves after George Orwell’s futuristic novel ‘1984’. Their look was far from sci-fi, however, and they happily adopted the classic, clean-cut beat- group look of the day: jackets, or in Brian's case a cardigan, and narrow trousers; and beat boots. Tim Staffell even acquired that year’s fashion accessory, a pork-pie hat.

The band rehearsed regularly at Chase Bridge Primary School Hall in Twickenham (located next to the rugby ground), and on the 28th October 1964, gave their first public performance at the nearby St. Mary’s Church Hall. It is believed that either one of the rehearsals, or the gig itself, was recorded, but unfortunately, no tape of this debut, performance has survived the years. Although 1984 recorded almost all of their live concerts for their own critical appraisal, to save on the expense of new tape they often wiped over old reels once they’d listened to them. Nevertheless, evidence of Brian May playing live does survive from this period, and the earliest example dates from an unknown gig (Shepperton Rowing Club is the favoured consensus), recorded in late 1965. This wasn’t a 1984 performance, but rather an ad-hoc trio comprising Brian May on bass and vocals, Pete ‘Woolly’ Hammerton (a school friend of Brian’s) on guitar and vocals, and 1984's Richard Thompson on drums. The tape reveals the trio turning in versions of Martha & the Vandellas’ “Dancing In The Street", the Beatles' “Eight Days A Week”, “I’m Taking Her Home” — a song by the group Woolly later joined, the Others — and a brave attempt at the Who’s "My Generation".

The Others comprised older boys from Hampton School, who in October 1964 had issued a single of their abrasive reading of Bo Diddley’s “Oh Yeah", backed by “I’m Taking Her Home", on Fontana (TF 501). “That was good!" claims singer, Tim Staffell. “I’ve still got that record buried somewhere deep in my mind — I remember the singer, Paul Stewart's voice and the quality of the guitar sound. The Others were a pretty significant influence. Maybe not in terms of the music, more in the sense that they were already doing it, which proved it was possible."

As evidenced by the photograph included in this feature, the Others clearly had attitude, something which 1984, or Tim Staffell at least, could only aspire to “If I had tried to push 1984 in any direction," reveals Tim, “then that would have been it. Without hearing any of these tapes of our band — and I didn't even know they existed! — l’d say we probably sounded a lot safer than the Others. Mind you, they were different to us. Their guitar style was very much inspired by American R&B, whereas Brian’s never was. Brian was a unique guitar player: he was able to extemporise a much more original way than most guitar players could. I hope he’ll forgive me for saying so, but I never perceived him as having the dangerous image which was necessary at the time — the cardigan says it all!.

LIGHTWEIGHT

“In retrospect, 1984 was lightweight, a bit fluffy” concedes Tim. “It was impossible not to be naively ambitious — that was part and parcel of it — and the primary motivation to do it was what we saw in the media as the end results of success. But I guess we were realistic about it — we were at school, after all. Also there was a good deal of pressure in the 60s from our parents, and the conservative generation, to conform."

Although a version of “I’m Taking Her Home” by 1984 was captured live on the Shepperton tape, and Brian occasionally guested with the Others on stage, it's worth stating once and for all that — despite the persistent rumours — he definitely doesn’t feature on "Oh Yeah". In fact, Pete ‘Woolly' Hammerton doesn't even play on the record — he only joined the band formally later on.

In the autumn of 1965, leaving Hampton Grammar with no fewer than four 'A' Levels and ten ‘O’ levels, Brian enrolled at Imperial College in Kensington, London, to read physics and infra-red astronomy. Before breaking up for the Christmas holidays that year, he played the first in a series of gigs with 1984 at the college, a tradition he continued later with Smile, and in their formative days with Queen. Although the exact date of the event has long since been forgotten, a very poor- quality tape still exists of 1984‘s college debut. The set was a typical one, comprising the group’s broad blend of pop, R&B and soul covers, and included the following songs: “Cool Jerk" (originally by the Capitols), ‘Respect" (Otis Redding), "My Girl" (the Temptations), “Shake" (Sam Cooke), “Stepping Stone" (the Monkees), “You Keep Me Hanging On" (the Supremes), “Whatcha Gonna Do Ahout it" ( Small Faces), “Substitute” (the Who), “How Can It Be” (the B-side of the Birds’ final single, “No Good Without You Baby”), “Dancing In The Street", “Dream" (Everly Brothers) and the Small Faces’ "Sha La La La Lee".

“Our repertoire was a little too eclectic to have developed into any particular style” reckons Tim Staffell. “But the Small Faces were quite influential. When we were at school, the songs were dredged from all sorts of areas. I’d always liked rhythm’n’blues. Brian’s input would have been Beatles-orientated, Dave’s as well. Richard Thompson would have been more into R&B, and Jag didn't really have an agenda as far as songs were concerned. Because of the nature of the material we covered, our approach to the gigs was almost schoollboy cabaret. 1984 was not a dangerous, moody rock band! Which may have something to do with the way Queen evolved."

1984 oponed 1966 with a couple of gigs at the Thames Rowing CIub in Putney; and once again, a tape recorder was set up to document the group’s progress. Two reels from January that year exist: the first is dated the 15th, and features “Im A Loser” (the Beatles), “I Wish You Would" ( the Yardbirds), “I Feel Fine" (the Beatles), “Little Egypt" (the Coasters), "Lucille” (Little Richard), “Too Much Monkey Business" (Chuck Berry), "I Got My Mojo Working” (Muddy Waters), "WalkingThe Dog” ( Rufus Thomas) and “Heart Full Of Soul" (the Yardbirds).

The second, dated two weeks later (29th January), demonstrates the great variety and confidence of a band which consistently renewed its repertoire. The show began with Jimmy Reed’s “Bright Lights, Big City", moving into the Cookies' “Chains" (popularised by the Beatles), “Walking The Dog", “Lucille", “Our Little Rendezvous" (Chuck Berry), “Jack O’ Diamonds" (Blind Lemon... (cont)

(cont) Jefferson, popularised by Lonnie Donegan), “I’ve Got My Mojo Working”, “Little Egypt" and Bo Diddley’s “I’m A Man”. The band’s finale was a versión of Sonny Boy Williamson’s "Bye Bye Bird".

For an amateur band with little real pretension towards stardom, or even a serious attempt at securing a recording contract, a staggering amount of live 1984 material has been preserved on tape. Dave Dilloway, for instance, is the guardian of a seven-inch reel-to-reel, which he says reveals either a very long performance or a compilation of various unknown dates.

Either way, the tape is divided into five distinct sections, which might make tedious reading, but is an invaluable reference: 1) “Route 66", (unknown instrumental), “I’m Taking Her Home", “Too Much Monkey Business’, “Yesterday" (featuring Brian May on lead vocals), “Walking The Dog", and “ Lucille"; 2) “Little Rendezvous", "Keep On Running”, “I Feel Fine”, “Walking The Dog”, “Jack O’ Diamonds", “High Heeled Sneakers", “I Want To Hold Your Hand", “I Got My Mojo Working*, and “I Should Have Known Better”; 3) “Little Rendezvous", “Jump Back Baby Jump Back", “I Feel Fine”, “Bye Bye Bird", “Little Egypt", “Crazy House". “Lucille”, “Oh Yeah”, “Heatwave”, “Too Much Monkey Business", “I Should Have Known Better", and “I Got My Mojo Working"; 4) “My Generation", “Little Egypt", “Dancing In The Street", “Whatcha Gonna Do About It", “I’m A Man", “Heatwave", “Lucille", and “Bye Bye Bird"; and 5) “Heart Full Of Soul", “Too Much Monkey Business”, “Something’s Got A Hold On Me", “Keep On Running", “My Generation", "Tired Of Waiting", “Bright Lights. Big City" and “Happy Hendrick’s Polka".

“These are all domestic quality, single microphone recordings of early-era 1984", reveals Dave Dilloway. “It's mostly bluesy material, with some soul and Beatles songs. While the quality is basic, the sound is intelligible, although there isn’t a large amount of identifiable Brian guitarwork. That came later in the band's history, when we included covers of Crearn and Hendrix. Brian's solo vocals on 'Yesterday' (on the first segment) are quite clear, however."

For much of 1966, the band carried on in a similar vein — Brian's and the others' college work permitting, of course. For Brian May and his unsigned, Twickenham-based covers band, the highlight of the following year, 1967, was undoubtedly the gig he secured via through his contacts at the college — supporting Jimi Hendrix at Imperial. The date was 13th May, the day after the release of Hendrix's debut, “Are You Experienced". Brian May idolised Hendrix to such an extent that he'd been nicknamed “Brimi" — a combination of the two guitarists' names—so although 1984 had seen him perform before, it goes without saying they were thrilled when backstage, they actually bumped into the ascending star as they filed past his dressing-room. It’s a familar story, but it's one worth repeating: Jimi enquired memorably, “Which way’s the stage, man?*.

BLOSSOMED

1984's act had certainly blossomed by this point. Their attire was now obligatory Swinging London — or Swinging Middlesex — fare: frilly shirts, Regency jackets, striped hipsters secured with a white belt, and hairtyles extending inexorably over the ears, and indeed the eyes. “Somewhere along the line, there was an external influence there", says Tim Staffell. “There was someone calling the shots. I don’t think all that was self-motivated. It’s something I’ve never been comfortable with, which explains why I split away from it early on — certainly from Smile onwards — because it was going that way; as indeed it ended up with Queen. It's fair enough, but that sort of flamboyance is just not me. I look fairly uncomfortable in the picture of the band from that period. My idea of a rock musician is one with hair down his back, a dirty pair of Levi's on, looking at the floor, thoroughly unconcerned with the visual and external trappings, playing the most extraordinary virtuoso guitar. That was my attitude."

Back in February 1967, Brian’s local paper, the ‘Middlesex Chronicle’ caught up with the band, and captured Tim Staffell in an equally decisive mood; although here, he was more enthusiastic about the latest trend. "Psychodelic music is certainly here to stay”~he claimed. "It makes more of music than mere sound, it makes it a whole and complete art form." Dave Dilloway, who also handled the group's light show, added: “We use everything in our act, including things like shaving foam, and plastic bricks we throw around”.

The ‘Chronicle’ was obviously impressed, and its reporter had this to say about a performance by what it called “one of the most foward-looking groups today". “Standards, like ‘Heatwave' receive a very original treatment, mostly due to the sounds that Brian coaxes out of his guitar. Jazz chords and electronic sounds add feeling and nuance to numbers that are often churned out wholesale. Using two bass drums for a fuller sound, Richard's drumming, combined with the full bass riffs of Dave and the steady (rhythm guitar) work of John, provides a firm basis for experiments in sound — an opportunity which is not wasted."

“To be quite honest with you, there’s more substance in the literary content there, than in the musical," laughs Tim Staffell. "If someone genuinely thought that, then I'm surprised! Brian might have used a fuzz-box. but generally, it was au naturel. I remember in the Smile days, somebody wrote about ‘humming chords of wonder’, referring to my bass playing. The reality of it was that sometimes I did try and play chords on the bass guitar, which might have come out as a deep-throated roar, but actually sounded like a load of crap!"

“We did use to tickle about with a few lights, suggests Dave Dilloway, “but being a local band, money was tight and there wasn’t a fortune to spend on the band." As to 1984's psychodelic sound, Dave adds: “Brian did use a bit of fuzz, yes, and Pink Floyd influences and a bit of screaming guitar. He’d actually built a fuzz box into his guitar, which was fairly unique for the day, but typical Brian. If you look carefully at recent pictures of his “Red Special” you can see the fuzz switch taped over."

In September 1967, no doubt boosted by their praise — sincere or not — in the local press, the continuing evidence of their performance tapes and their recent Hendrix support slot, 1984 entered the local beats of a battle-of-the-bands competition at the Top...[ ]

...[ ] Rank Club in Croydon, just south of London. Effectively a promotion for Scotch tape, entrance to the contest could only be secured via a demo recorded on a Scotch reel. 1984’s effort duly arrived in the form of a two-track master, featuring covers of Marvin Gaye's “Ain’t That Peculiar?" and the Everly Brothers’ “Crying ln The Rain" (on stage, both tracks were usually enhanced by characteristic Brian May guitar solos, but conservatism prevailed, and they were absent in this instance). A copy of this recording still survives, carefully guarded by the custodian of the 1984 archive. “This tape is a quarter-inch, mono reel-to-reel," recalIs Dave Dilloway. “Tim took lead vocals on 'Ain't That Peculiar?’, and Tim and Brian duetted on ’Crying ln The Rain’. Brian's vocal style and tone can be clearly discerned, if one knows his voice. The songs were recorded in single takes, using a single microphone fed directly to the recorder. There was no mix facility so it has a ‘live' feel, a very good clean sound”.

The mix was achieved using the old fashioned technique of microphone position and relative volume levels of the amplified Instruments. “As far as I am aware, only the one (master) copy of this tape exists.”

As has been well-documented, after two sets at the competition (one of which saw Brian, Dave, John Garnham and drummer Richard Thompson acting as the back-up band for a singer called Lisa Perez), 1984 won the contest, and walked away with a reel of blank tape (Scotch, of course) and an album each on the CBS label. (Tim took the top prize, Simon & Garfunkel’s “Sounds Of Silence", Brian had to make do with a Barbra Streisand LP, and Dave Dilloway became the proud owner of an album by Irish bandleader Tommy Makem!). More importantly, their demo tape was forwarded to the CBS A&R department for the national showdown, although, clearly, they didn’t win.

True to form, 1984's performance that evening was committed to tape — for an unpublished review by ‘Melody’ Maker, no less — but was probably erased shortly afterwards. The twenty-minute set consisted of the Everlys’ "So Sad", Hendrix’s “Stone Free”, Buddy Knox’s “She’s Gone" and Eddie Floyd's “Knock On Wood". After the gig, the band were invited by a visiting promotor to participate in the all-night gala event which has since gone down as one of the key gigs of the London underground scene: Christmas On Earth Continued, at London's Olympia Theatre, on December 23rd 1967. 1984 was the lowest profile act at this decidedly high-profile event, and after Jimi Hendrix, Traffic, Pink Floyd, the Herd, and Tyrannosaurus Rex had all taken to the stage, they only got to perform their humble set of covers at 5 o’clock in the morning. When Brian finally plugged in his ‘Red Special’, 1984 played a thirty-minute set to a very small, and less than enthusiastic, audience.

Also from 1967, and of far more interest, is 1984′s professionally-recorded Thames Television demo tape. During his first-year of study at Twickenham Technical College, Dave Dilloway had made friends with a number of technicians, or trainee technicians, at the Teddington-based ITV company which served the London area. The station had recently invested in new recording equipment, and rather than hire professional musicians at the usual union rate, in a set up similar to the first Queen sessions at the De Lane Lea studios, 1984 were let loose in the studio to record at their leisure. Dave Dilloway's carefully preserved tape still plays perfectly, and includes the following songs: "Hold On I’m Corning", “Knock On Wood“, “NSU", *How Can It Be”, two early run-throughs of the original May/ Staffell composition “Step On Me” (which eventually became the B- side to Smile's “Earth"), “Purple Haze", “Our Love Is Driftin* ”, and medleys of “Remember”/”Sweet Wine" and “Get Out My Life Woman”/ ”Satisfaction". The session ended with a run-through of "My Girl”.

AMALGAM

"What an extraordinary amalgam!" declares Tim Staffell today. “There’s Tamla, Cream, Hendrix, Lee Dorsey . . ‘Our Love Is Driftin' we’d have heard by Paul Butterfield. I’d forgotten there was such a large soul component in 1984!".

Dave Dilloway has the technical details: “This tape is the most recent, best and most representative of 1984 that I'm aware of. It is mono, but since it was made on good quality TV studio equipment and was carried out along the lines of a proper studio recording, with separately-mixed microphones for each source, it is remarkably good quality for its age. The material, except for ‘Step On Me', is aII cover versions, but as it dates from the late 1984 era, Brian’s playing is more prominent and effective, with his own style starting to show through. All the performances are competent — particularly Tim’s vocals and Brian's guitar; although the mix is a little heavy on John's rhythm guitar for some reason, probably the ‘ear’ of the recording engineer at the time. All tracks were laid down in one take, i.e., no overdubbing at all, so the sound is predominantly simple, as per our live versions."

And that was 1984′s swansong. In the spring of 1968, shortly afler the Thames recording, mainly due to the pressures of infrequent meetings and university studies — coupled with increasing musical differences — 1984 scaled down their operations drastically. Brian May left the band, and Tim Staffell took over on lead guitar for a while. A little later, Tim himself quit, leaving Dave Dilloway, John Garnham and Richard Thompson to rebuild the group, which soldiered on into the 70′s, content merely to play for fun. They all conceded that 1984 had been a good, solid, and popular local band, but that it didn’t have the necessary spark or originality to transform into a great one.

The Left Handed Marriage

ln the summer of 1965, in another corner of Hampton Grammar School, Brian May’s old friend Bill Richards (who had been a fleeting, early member of 1984 before it acquired its futuristic name), and his colleagues Jenny Hill (née Rusbridge), Henry Deval and Terry Goulds, formed a folk-rock band called the Left-Handed Marriage, named after an archaic form of marrying beneath oneself. By January 1967, the quartet had progressed to the point where they had issued their own privately-pressed album, “On The Right Side Of The Left Handed Marriage", which ran to just fifty copies (and, incidentally, has since acquired cult status among collectors, with a £600 price tag to match).

Although naturally familiar with the album, Brian May as yet had not been involved with the band. That changed in March 1967, after Bill signed a twelve-month contract with EMI's music publishing company Ardmore & Beechwood — a deal secured through the efforts of Brian Henderson, a former member of Edinburgh beat outfit the Mark Five, and more recently, the bassist in Patrick Campbell- Lyons' 60′s psychodelic band, Nirvana. Bill approached Brian to help him create a “fuller" sound for the Left Handed Marriage, with a request to provide guitar and backing vocals on some recording sessions.

On the understanding that the project wouldn’t interfere with his commitment to 1984, Brian agreed. On 4th April 1967, he joined Jenny, Henry, Terry and Bill in AMC Sound, an amateur studio in Manor Road, Twickenham, to record four songs: “Give Me Time” (later changed to “I Need Time"), "She Was Once My Friend", “Sugar Lump Girl” and “Yours Sincerely” (which was basically “Give Me Time" backwards, with new lyrics pinched from the Russian author Pushkin).

The songs were all cleanly-recorded, melodic atempts at 1967 pop (despite the Left Handed Marriage's later classification, there's little actual folk music in evidence). “She Was Once My Friend" is the pick of the bunch, thanks to its Kinks-like structure — complete with Bill Richard's/ Ray Davies-soundalike vocal and, albeit way down in the mix, flashes of that distinctive Brian May 'Red Special’ guitar sound. Acetates of the AMC EP were cut, and the idea had been to release the songs as a commercial EP. Instead, the set merely became the Left Handed Marriage’s first demo for their publishers, although it did lead to the offer to record at a more professional session — at EMI’s prestigious Abbey Road studios.

The Abbey Road session took place on 28th June 1967, when Left Handed Marriage were joined by Brian and 1984′s Dave Dilloway, who was drafted in to play bass. Two further tracks were cut: the reworked “I Need Time",...[ ]

...[ ] and a new song called “Appointment". At this stage, there was more talk of issuing a record, this time a single, and a release date of August was even discussed. This never materialised either, and again 7″ acetates are all that remain.

Although Ardmore & Beechwood were pleased with the results, they still thought the Left Handed Marriage could improve their sound even further, and on 31st July 1967, they booked the band into another studio, this time Regent Sound in central London. As Dave Dilloway was not available, another friend, John Frankel, was called upon to play bass and piano. The eight-track Regent Sound machine was something of a technological marvel, and the session was flawlessly recorded, resulting in new versions of “I Need Time”, “She Was Once My Friend" (which also remixed and edited for the abandoned single), and "Appointment".

Despite the studio quality of the tape, Ardmore & Beechwood failed to place the songs with a record label, and like so many groups before and since, the Left Handed Marriage quietly disappeared from view. It was left to frontman Bill Richards belatedly to issue the fruits of this last session, when in February 1993, he tagged the three Regent Sound recordings — the final mix of “I Need Time”, the abridged version of “She Was Once A Friend Of Mine” and the final mix of “Appointment” — onto the end of “Crazy Chain”, a CD recorded by the reformed Left Handed Marriage, which itself was prompted by collector's interest in the group’s original 1967 LP, “The Right Hand Side Of...” . Most of the master tapes for the LHM recordings featuring Brian May have Iong since disappeared along with the Regent Sound studio, and (with the exception of "She Was Once My Friend") the Richards/May collaborations on the CD were digitally remastered from acetates.

RECORD COLLECTOR Nº 195, NOVEMBER 1995

➡NEXT: ROGER TAYLOR’S REACTION

@natromanxoff, @mephisto92, @moviestorian, @39-brian, @an-abyss-called-life, @his-majesty-king-mercury, @x5vale @onegoldenglance @i-live-for-queen, @brian-39-may, @toomuchlove-willkillyou, @brimaymay, @sail-away-sweet-sister, @briianmaay, @inui-mycroft @brianmayislongaway, @balticlover, @astrophysicist-guitar-god, @miez-lakatz, @brianmayoucease, @jesus-in-a-life-boat, @drummerqueenrmt, @iminlovewithrogscar @roger-taylors-car, @crosmopolitan @silapril, @sherrifanciesfriskyfreddie @tenderbri, @brianmydear, @thosequeenboys, @millionairewaltz-carpediem, @painandpleasure86, @bribrifrenchfry, @xlucylennonx, @a-night-at-the-abbey-road, @inthedayswhenlandswerefew, @madformeddowstaylor, @drowseoftaylor @queenrogertaylorfan, @let-roger-get-a-lunch, @queen-for-life, @rethought, @mymakeupmaybeflaking, @old-but-still-a-child, @let-roger-get-a-lunch, @warriorteam1924, @funnydressesweirdhairanddance, @painkiller80, @thefanhuman13, @yourtieddownmother, @hgmercury39, @brimi-stardust, @thefairyfellermercury, @retroromantics, @sailawaysweetbrimi, @sophiaintheskywithdiamonds, @deacytits@rhysjoejoshtomfarisblog, @holybrianmaywritingbear, @lydiannode, @39-yellow-daffodils , @ure-gonna-loveme-when-u-seeme, @kaykaybeachgirl, @foxmonkey, @saik-ava, @deakysgurl, @redspecialandclogsandcurls, @briansrainbowsocks, @delilahmay39, @ohmybribri, @bless-the-queen, @infunitehearbeat, @sketchiesscketches, @everythingaboutfreddie, @doitforthevine67, @recordsoftheseventies, @tenementfunsterwithpurpleshoes, @drummah-in-a-rocknroll-band, @beatlegirl1968, @maylorsqueen, @shearrehartatacc, @gralto, @alittlepeoplemagic, @rainbowsockbrian, @frejudy, @drivenbybri, @yourlocalmusicalprostitute, @omb-xx, @sassymaylor, @somekindofroger, @starlightmay, @rhysjoejoshtomfarisblog, @freddiemercuryismylife, @sunshine112, @chrysochromulina @glitteryloveravenue, @deakyislife51, @0-primejive-0, @just-a-skinny-lad, @drivenbybrianmay

#Queen Before Queen #Pre-Queen Series #Brian May #Tim Staffell #1984 #The Left Handed Marriage #🎤🎵🎸👑⭐

178 notes · View notes

cham-chammity · 3 years

Text

MORE STRIKER X BLITZ (kind of) FLUFF BECAUSE I CAN'T STOP WRITING IT

It had been an exhausting day at work—more like a week—for the two imps who lay burnt out on the couch. It had been nothing but demanding clients and complex assassinations for the past few days and they just needed a break. Letting out a heavy sigh, Striker turned his head to look towards his boyfriend, who sat rubbing his temples.

"Sometimes when I’ve had a stressful day, a nice trip to the tub is always nice.”

Blitz turned and snorted in response. “No way I have the slightest energy for any dick-wadding playtime after that damn mob family shit we dealt with today.”

"Oh, no no. A legit, calming bubble bath. With candles and soft music playin’. Used to do that a whole lot whenever I was sick or stressed as a kid.” Striker stood up and stretched, letting out a long, dragged-out yawn. “I’m with ya on the no energy for 'dick-wadding playtime’ as you call it either,” he chuckled.

Blitz hummed in response before standing up himself. “Sounds quite nice actually. I think I have some candles in the closet over here I got a while back.” Blitz walked out of the living room, and Striker headed towards their bathroom. He drew a warm bath and poured some soap, making it nice and foamy. The bathroom became steamy from the hot water and faintly smelled of lavender from the soap. Blitz walked in with some rose scented candles.

"Sorry about the scent. Not sure if you’re into florals. I kinda like the smell of flowers, especially from the living world,” Blitz laughed nervously.

"Oh, no way, I do too,” Striker smiled in response. “Screw them girly-girl stereotypes, as my aunt always told me. It’s alright to like the smell of flowers.” Both imps (unaware they were thinking the same thing) took a mental note of that for future date and gift ideas.

Striker walked out of the bathroom and came back with his phone, searching for some music to play. “Any music suggestions, Blitz?”

"Hmm… calming, but romantic,” he smiled, while starting to strip down. Striker did likewise after making up a new playlist (which took no time considering he was a music freak, and knew way too many good artists of the like; being the hopeless romantic he is.)

Blitz lit the candles after he finished undressing himself. Afterwards he dipped his foot in the tub before cursing at the temperature of the water. “Ah, fuck! The water is way too damn hot, you said warm, not scalding.”

Striker lightly laughed at his reaction. “Guess I like ‘em hot,” he winked at the crimson imp.

Blitz jokingly rolled his eyes in response. “Enough of the foreplay, you flirt.” Blitz slowly edged himself into the water anyways, eventually finding himself getting used to the temperature. Striker eased himself in next to his mate, sitting just in front of where Blitz now sat.

"You mind washin’ my hair for me, partner?” Striker asked, passing Blitz a bottle of shampoo.

"I thought you’d never ask.” Blitz proceeded to wet down his hair and poured the shampoo in a clawed hand, and started lathering and massaging Striker’s scalp. Striker closed his eyes and took in the senses around him. The smells, the music playing, Blitz gently massaging his head. A smile spread across his face as he was finally able to relax.

"Quite the dorky smile you got there.”

Striker took a moment to respond but kept his eyes closed. “You can’t see my face, I ain’t facin’ you.”

"I can’t see it but I can sense it,” Blitz teased. He then washed the rest of the shampoo out of Striker’s hair.

When Blitz finished Striker turned himself around to face Blitz, catching the crimson imp off guard as he planted a soft, gentle kiss on his lips. Blitz sat in surprise for not even a moment before melting into the kiss, wrapping his arms around his boyfriend. Striker cupped Blitz’s face with one hand, slightly deepening the kiss, making Blitz hum in response. After a few moments he positioned himself to lay on top of the crimson imp. They continued to exchange long, soft kisses, melting into each other's arms, the warm water and bubbles making the moment feel even more intimate.

Soon enough their tongues started to explore each other’s mouths, running along teeth and lightly nibbling on each other’s lips. Blitz ran one of his clawed hands through the paler imp’s hair, and Striker lightly caressed the crimson imp’s face with a thumb. Their tails intertwined as they continued their soft, passionate makeout.

Every once in a while they parted for a breath of air, only to lock lips again in need of each other’s touch. They occasionally kissed and licked down each other’s necks, leaving little love marks on one another, claiming their significant other as their own. Blitz let out soft purring noises and hums in response, as Striker did likewise.

The two imps savored the moment, never speeding up, never going further; just expressing their love with one another through long, soft kisses and light nibbles. Blitz certainly enjoyed this himself. He was always kinky, rough and fast in previous relationships. But he had to admit, he definitely liked the slow vanilla stuff Striker had to offer.

Eventually, the two imps parted, gazing into each other’s hooded eyes. Their faces were lightly tinted from the physical and intimate heat, and were lightly panting from their lack of air.

"God, I love you.” Both imp’s eyes widened in surprise. Oh shit, they both said it. At the same time. For the first time. Striker softly smiled and planted a soft kiss on Blitz’s forehead.

"I love you,” Striker said again.

Blitz smiled back and responded. “I love you too.”

They once again exchanged a few soft kisses before getting out of the tub and draining the water. After drying off they went to put on their pajamas and layed in bed to cuddle in each other’s arms.

"You know," Blitz started, "my mind is always racing. Going a million miles and hour thinking about satan knows what. But when I'm with you, I feel calm. Safe."

Striker softly smiled, rubbing small circles at the base of Blitz's spines. "Aw, that makes me happy." Striker paused for a moment. "I make ya feel safe?"

"Yeah, but not like the traditional 'I'll beat any ass up who will lay a finger on you' safe. More like... I know I won't be pushed around or mocked at. I can be myself without secretly hoping deep down inside you won't snap at me and reject me, or worse..." Blitz trailed off, letting out a heavy sigh. "I've never felt pressured or judged when I'm with you. For once, someone actually.. cares about me."

A deep pang hit Striker in his chest as he silently listened. It shattered him knowing Blitz was used and belittled most of his life. With the circus, past relationships, Stolas... Nothing made Striker's blood boil more than how Blitz had been treated in his past, and even now with the muddled mess of the rich-ass owl overlord.

"Well, darlin', anyone who has or does disrespect you certainly don't see past the surface. They tend to look at the tip of the iceberg. Graze the surface n' form an image of their own. But as for me, I look deeper. For strengths, weaknesses, traumas. There's a whole lot more than the present and future. Everyone has a past, everyone has something frozen under the surface. We just havta.. look for it. Accept and acknowledge it's there."

Blitz sat in silence at a loss of words. "I--" he paused and bit his lip. "I don't know what to say. But, thank you. I needed to hear that."

Striker intertwined his tail with Blitz's. "You don't have to say anything, Blitz. Now it's getting late. You should probably get some shut-eye. Sleep well, partner,” Striker whispered, planting another kiss on Blitz’s forehead.

"You too cowboy.” Blitz’s words were hardly audible as he snuggled closer, falling asleep with his face buried in Striker’s chest.

Thankfully, they had no work tomorrow, and both imps got a good night’s rest for the first time in a long time; accompanied and safe in each other’s arms.

#striker x blitzo #helluva boss #helluva blitzo #blitzo helluva boss #blitzo x striker #helluva striker #striker helluva boss #blitzo #helluva boss blitzo #helluvabossstriker #blitzker #helluvabossblitzo #helluva boss fanfiction #vivziepop

34 notes · View notes

youare-mysonshine · 4 years

Text

pobre diabla || oscar diaz

(gif is not mine. credit to owner♥️)

Summary: Reader gets scared of Oscar and reveals that she had a bad past relationship.

Requested: yes!

request for a fic on how spooky would react if reader got scared of him like maybe she had a bad past relationship and like he didn’t know about it but like he scared her, not on purpose and instantly regretted everything, apologizing and backing away like i never meant to scare you

Pairing: Oscar Diaz x Reader

Warnings: cussing, mentions of an abusive relationship, angst, fluff at the end.

Word Count: 1.7k

A/N: hello all. this is a request I’ve had for a long ass time. To whoever requested, I’m sorry it took this long. Something short, angsty and then sweet. Enjoy. like with part 6 of que malo, please take caution when reading!

—————

“He’s your brother, Oscar! He’s your brother and you’re not even gonna let him come back? This gang means more to you than him? Your flesh and blood?”

What a great way to ring in the new year, huh? Having a fight with your boyfriend over the fact that he’d kicked his little brother out and refused to let him back in.

You and Oscar had been dating for a few months. You’d met shortly after he’d gotten out of prison and you had instantly hit it off with him. Initially, you had been skeptical about starting a relationship with Oscar because your previous relationship hadn’t been the.. best. It had been scarring. Physically, emotionally, mentally. So when you and Oscar started hanging out and talking, part of you was afraid of opening yourself up to someone like that again only to be hurt. Especially given the fact that he was in a gang.

But over the course of your relationship, he’d never given you a reason to be afraid of him. He always kept the gang stuff away from you, making sure you were never involved. Oscar knew the dangers of being with someone like him and he always made sure to keep you protected and safe. And besides that, you’d learned things about him that many people didn’t know. You saw a side of him that he didn’t let most people see. That goofy, funny side.

The Oscar that would make fun of you for burning the food. The Oscar that would sometimes sing in the shower (which you loved because he really did have a nice singing voice). The Oscar that would always make sure his little brother was good, putting his needs before his own.

Which is why you couldn’t understand why when Cesar had shown up at the house begging Oscar to take him back, he refused. He kicked him to the curb, turned him away.

You’d heard about what happened at Olivia’s quince - her death, Ruby being shot. Oscar and the other Santos beating Cesar bloody, Oscar kicking him out. That was really when your relationship had become strained. Maybe you were naive when it came to the gang, but you couldn’t wrap your head around it. You’d been inside the house when you heard Oscar’s loud, deep voice yell. And when you peeked out from behind the curtain, you saw Oscar pushing his little brother. The look on Cesar’s face absolutely broke your heart. Then hearing and seeing all the other Santos bark at the young Diaz as he walked away fueled your anger. As soon as Oscar had come in the house, you couldn’t keep your mouth shut. Which led to you heatedly staring each other down in the living room.

“You don’t understand, Y/N. I didn’t have a choice. Cuchillos didn’t give me a choice-“

“Fuck Cuchillos! He’s your little brother, Oscar. He has nowhere to go. Those Prophets are still after him. What happens if they find him? They’re gonna kill him. All this because he couldn’t kill someone?”

“And look what happened! Olivia died, Ruby got shot! All because of his mistake! He knew what he had to do and he didn’t do it. That’s on him!”

“Bullshit, Oscar! That’s bullshit. You put that on him. He is a fourteen year old boy! Did you really expect him to just go and kill Latrelle? He’s not you, Oscar!” You spat, your heart rate beating rapidly in your chest from sheer anger. Oscar felt similarly, lips pulled back in a snarl, brows furrowed. This was probably the worst fight that the two of you had ever gotten into. You’d gotten into little arguments here and there before, but it was never anything like this. Never full blown yelling or glaring at each other so hard that both of you would’ve been six feet under if looks could kill.

“You know what? I don’t need this shit.” Oscar had turned around, going to leave but you kept going.

“Does the gang mean that much more to you than your baby brother? The baby brother that you raised? What are you gonna if one day a cop shows up and tells you that he’s dead because a Prophet got to hi-“

“I said enough!” In the blink of an eye, Oscar had spun around. “I don’t have a choice, and if you can’t understand that, then you can pack your shit and get out-“ His lifted his arm and you flinched, cowering away. In that moment, you weren’t looking at Oscar. It wasn’t your boyfriend that was standing in front of you. No.. it was your past abuser. The man that had swore he loved you but then turned around and smacked you around, talked down to you like you were nothing but a piece of garbage.

In that moment, panic filled you and all you could see were flashbacks, images of your ex-boyfriend. The look in his eyes, the anger on his face, before he’d mistreat you. All you could think of and hear in your head were the sounds of his hand making contact with your skin, the sounds of his harsh words and insults being thrown your way.

“I’m s-sorry. I’m sorry..” Was all you could say as you screwed your eyes shut, almost as if you were bracing, expecting, the impact of his palm against your cheek.

Oscar was stunned. Frozen in place. The anger he felt had dissipated in him. Vanished quicker than lightening and all that was left in it’s wake was hurt. His face faltered.. You’d flinched away from him. You thought he was going to hit you. When all he’d done was lift his hand to motion over to the hallway where your shared bedroom was.

“Y/N.. I.. I wasn’t gonna hit you..” Regret filled his entire body. The anger that was once taken hold of that room had gone right out the window, all that was was two horrified lovers. You opened your eyes, tears wetting your bottom lash line, and you were met with the sight of Oscar looking at you with hurt and regret all over his face. “Bebe.. I’m.. I’m sorry, I.. I wasn’t going to hit you. Tu sabes que nunca haria eso..” Oscar backed away from you, and the look on his face absolutely brushed your entire soul. You hadn’t meant to flinch. It was almost like an involuntary reaction. Oscar had never given you a reason to be scared of him, but in that moment, your mind had flashed back to your ex-boyfriend and you felt that same fear you always felt when you were with him.

“Oscar.. I’m sorry. I.. I know, I know that you’d never hit me.. I just..” You paused, taking in a deep breath, hoping to calm your erratic heart. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” You walked over to the couch and took a seat, burying your face in your hands. “It’s just.. I don’t know why, when you raised your hand like that I.. it was like I was looking at my ex-boyfriend. I had like this flashback.”

“What?”

“I’ve never told you before because I kinda always wanted to put it past me. And I just don’t like talking about it because it’s not easy to talk about..” You lifted your head, wiping away the tear that had fallen down your cheek. “Before I met you, I was dating this guy. He was great, funny, charming. It was enough for me to overlook the red flags. He’d always make little rude comments to me, he’d tell me what to wear, who I could and couldn’t hang out with. He’d look through my phone. That was just the start. Then it got physical. It started with little things - he’d push me, grab me hard enough to leave bruises.. and then he actually hit me. It started with a slap and escalated to something more.. I finally left him when I had to go to the hospital for injuries he caused.”

Oscar was once more stunned in silence. You were undoubtedly once of the strongest women he’s ever met and know he knew why. But he couldn’t deny the anger and the horror bubbling beneath his skin. But beside that, the hurt he felt was also there. The fact that he’d reminded you of your abuser, the fact that you’d been scared of him for even a brief moment, that you were scared he’d hit you - it killed him. It crushed his heart into a thousand pieces. “Mamas..” The Santo walked over hesitantly, kneeling down in front of you. He lifted a hesitant hand to you, touching your face, cradling your cheek softly as if he were handling a fragile china doll. To his relief, you didn’t flinch away from him. No, you leaned into his touch because his touch was familiar and it was good and you craved it.

“I’m sorry.” His voice was soft. Deep but soft. Calmness washed over you. “I’m fuckin’ sorry that happened to you.” The images of someone who you loved and trusted hurting you in such a horrific way flashed through his mind and you could make out that barely concealed anger in his eyes. “I’d kill the puto with my bare hands if I ever saw him.” He spoke. “But you need to know that I’d never hurt you like that. Nunca. Tu eres mi vida. Me moriría para ti.” His words caused a flurry of butterflies in your stomach to go wild. “I’d die before I hurt you like that, before I let anyone hurt you like that again. I’m sorry for scaring you, baby. I never meant to. We may fight and argue but I never want you to be afraid of me. Never me.”

“I know. And I’m sorry for not telling you about this before. And I’m sorry for what I said to you about Cesar-“ Oscar leaned forward and silenced you with a deep, kiss. You immediately melted into it, you hands coming to rest upon his shoulders, fiddling the fabric of the flannel that he wore. If his words hadn’t reassured that you had no reason to be afraid of him, than it was his kiss that sure had. The way he kissed you so softly, yet so deeply. So sweetly yet so passionately. It was everything.

“I know. I’m sorry for what I said too . For yelling.” He muttered as he pulled away, resting his forehead upon your own. “I’ll figure something out, okay? I know he’s my baby brother and I hate that he’s out there too.”

You leaned forward and pressed another, short, kiss to his lips.

“We’ll figure something out. Me and you.”

—————

tagging: @spookysmujer @ugh-jalynn @lovleyajoitee @curly-haired-holland @babienay @harringtoncastle @spookysnena @eggshaustedd @firebenderwolf @clemmingstylins0n @xiomarlyn @lana-loves-stuff @dolanackles @briskiiat420 @lossantosprincesa @princesstiffxoxo @xbrujababyx @juul4jesus @audreydiane96 @angelreyesgirl100 @khiaraaa-in-spacee @poppaxannie @deviilbby @mrs-spookyd1az @eriksjournal @socialistavocado @pananegra @demure-doll @skathan-omaha @kingbouji3 @animesstuffsposts @moanlightbaby @thenameishayley248 @cheshirecat107 @bellaguarneri @liaari @cedricheart @amethyst09 @flamingweasley @littlxmiss @mellisophilia @fairygardenss @sadeyesbabymama

#netflix on my block #on my block imagine #on my block #oscar diaz fluff #oscar diaz angst #oscar diaz omb #oscar diaz x reader #oscar diaz headcanon #oscar diaz #oscar diaz imagine #oscar spooky diaz #spooky diaz #julio macias imagine #julio macias

601 notes · View notes

the-littlest-goblin · 4 years

Note

Shadowgast prompt: Essek was spying on the dinner convo with Trent (shhhh I know he probably has anti scrying wards all over that tower but idc), his reactions to hearing Trent justifying his abuse as love (maybe with thoughts about his own family situation?)

It’s angst time, folks.

______________________________________________________________

The first time, he was able to justify it to himself.

He didn’t want to contact any of the Mighty Nein directly, not with how they had left things, but he still had to know they were ok. He had to.

He told himself that he would cast the spell just to test that it reached its target, to confirm they were alive. Maybe a quick peek to make sure they weren’t in immediate peril. Perfectly fine, not an invasion of privacy.

The next few times were… less defensible.

It became a pattern: Scry on one of them. Reassure himself that they were all alive. Vow not to do it again. Spend another week with a stifled fear whispering at the back of his mind, growing louder each passing day that was not interrupted by a cheery voice invading his mind with some inane message. Give in. Scry again.

He doesn’t know what possesses him to cast it on Caleb this time. A previous scry confirmed that Caleb no longer wears his anti-detection amulet, but even without it, he was able to resist when Essek attempted to spy on him directly. He should pick a surer target, or risk wasting the spell.

But Caleb remains his focus as he completes the incantation, and miracle of miracles, he feels his magic break through Caleb’s mental defenses a split-second before the scry overtakes his vision.

There are flashes of a bustling city, Empire architecture everywhere. The spell homes in on an imposing wizard’s tower and then zooms into a room inside, crystallizing on a red-haired figure seated at a lavish dining table.

Caleb is wearing the same finery he sported in Nicodranas on that night, and the sight of it sends an uncomfortable jolt through Essek. He shoves the memories aside. Focus. This is a spell that requires full concentration.

From the blurred edges of the scry, a voice reaches Essek’s ears—a sickening, familiar voice.

“...the prodigy I always knew he was. While some students take direct tutelage and study, some are unique in how they best develop: through self-discovery, others inspired through hardship.”

Trent is seated a few feet away from Caleb, far enough that he is barely a blur of pale skin and dark robe in Essek’s vision. Regardless, his insipid voice is recognizable enough on its own, with or without the unfortunate visage that normally accompanies it.

Essek feels his mouth curl uncontrollably into a sneer as Trent continues in the course of whatever it is he’s monologuing about this time.

"Historically, the most talented mages have indeed walked this path, or the greatest ambitions come from those who have endured the dark and crawled their way back."

Veth, her form equally hazy as Ikithon’s, pipes up from the other side of the table, “So you're apologizing, then?”

Beau responds, her tone and diction unmistakable even though her visual is fully out of the limits of Essek’s scry. “No, it sounds like he's trying to take fucking credit.”

Apologizing for what? Taking credit for what? Curiosity bubbles up in Essek, insatiable and undeniable.

Through all this, Caleb is the only clear thing he can see, and Essek watches as his face contorts itself in pain—not the wailing, open-mouthed countenance of physical injury, but the subdued, tight-lipped expression of internal anguish. He is looking in Trent’s direction.

There is misery behind his eyes. There is also hatred.

Trent is speaking again.

"Forgive me, Bren.” Essek’s brain does a momentary double-take at the unfamiliar name, but it doesn’t take much to put the pieces together.

"I could see your gifts, and your faults and limitations. To truly grow, you needed to be broken and left to build yourself. It took longer than we anticipated, but when you were ready, we turned on the light and showed you the door."

Without more context, it is impossible to fully understand this conversation, even for someone as shrewd as Essek. But though he does not know the exact nature of Caleb and Trent’s history, or what it means when Trent produces a symbol of the Arch Heart, or why Caleb appears even more distraught when he looks at it, Essek can still recognize the dynamics at play here. A slimy, squirming disgust curls in his gut, like the unctuous voice of Trent made manifest.

I understand the pressure of being young, and the expectation. Caleb had said this to him once, a thousand years ago, on the happiest night of Essek’s life. He had sensed the kinship between them long before that, the shared spark of brilliance, of curiosity, of a life shaped by cruelly pragmatic hands.

He had replied, Experience is what hardens you, prepares you for the worst. I think you're prepared for more than you give yourself credit for, Caleb. He knows now, with absolute certainty, that he was correct. Yet another thing they have in common.

Trent is still talking. "And I cannot tell you how proud of you I am—we are. And I know you hate me, Bren. Hate what I've put you through, and I accept those feelings. For it was a hard choice for me to make. What I did, though, I did out of love."

There’s an immediate scoff—Jester, Essek thinks, though it’s hard to tell. Whoever it was, Essek wholeheartedly agrees.

No one who claims that their actions were done out of love has ever said so sincerely. If they have to justify it as such, then it wasn’t real love. Essek knows this for certain, having been on both sides of the matter, and also finally understanding what real love actually looks like.

He’s heard selfishness pitched as altruism, cruelty twisted to sound like mercy, has had as much said to his face by those who claim to love him, but whom he fully believes care nothing for him beyond his abilities and the services he can provide. The greater good has been invoked in the name of so many evil acts throughout history.

Which is exactly why he has never tried to delude himself, or others, that his own terrible deeds were done out of good intentions. Anything can sound justified with the right turns of phrase; that is half his job as the Shadowhand. That doesn’t make any of it true, or make the perpetrator any less blameworthy.

“To what end? To use me?” Caleb asks. Essek can’t help but admire the steady strength of his voice, though he knows he has no right to the pride that fills his chest at hearing it.

"No, to show you what you are capable of.” Trent’s voice is full of intensity, sounding almost desperate to make Caleb understand. "It was your parents' wish when I told them of the spark that I saw within you. They asked me to do whatever it took to help you realize it, for the glory of your family, and for the Empire.”

For the Den, Essek. For the Dynasty. How many times has he heard appeals to family and legacy and patriotism? From the Queen ordering her soldiers to battle; from the Umavi demanding nothing short of perfection from her children, whatever is takes to achieve it. How would they feel, to know their most detested enemies use indistinguishable rhetoric?

“I did just that, as much as it hurt to hurt you. It is the greater man who puts the needs of others over himself, Bren. And this nation needs you."

With that, Essek’s vision fades into black as the scry reaches its end. The image of Caleb’s pained expression stays imprinted behind his eyelids even as he blinks them open back to his candlelit laboratory.

The sick feeling does not dissipate. It is joined by the sour taste of bile in the back of Essek’s mouth as his mind replays pieces of what he heard over and over again.

It’s not verbatim what’s been said to him in the past, but it comes from the same crop of manipulation.

There is nothing Essek can do to help Caleb, nothing whatsoever. Despite this, a part of him yearns to teleport to Rexxentrum right this second, damn the chances of a mishap, and damn the fact that if he arrives in the Empire successfully, he is sure to be arrested or killed on sight.

What ultimately shuts the impulse down is reminding himself that, even if he could get there and evade capture, it is highly unlikely that Caleb would be happy to see him.

He really hopes the Mighty Nein send him a message soon.

#critrole #critical role #essek thelyss #shadowgast #my writing #fic prompts #mithrilwren #abuse cw #only alluded to but still

133 notes · View notes

my-writings-and-musings · 4 years

Note

This is the medic berth sharing anon, and I forgot to add, what if when talking to a bot(not necessarily a medic), the conversation some how drifted to where the human just casually mentions that professional cuddling is A Thing, and what would the reactions be?

I've got a lot here as a follow up because once again, your ideas inspire me anon! Prepare for a wall of text!

Rodimus

·He's not necessarily surprised, because your species is so incredibly soft, why not have humans who specialize in using that talent? But he's still never considered it before, and is curious as to how one becomes a "proffesional" at something so basic, and what kind of training it could possibly entail.

·Hearing that it's more for humans who have endured trauma, or humans who come from cultures or backgrounds where such contact is frowned upon, makes him a little sad. He's an affectionate bot and can't imagine not having access to something so simple, but then realizes their own species could perhaps do with some physical affection based therapy, not that he feels qualified to suggest such a thing...

Drift

·After a brief request for more information he's delighted by the sound of the practice, even if he doesn't have all the details. Creating harmony through positive energy and healing through affection is a personal ideal of his, and to hear another species practicing it is quite uplifting!

·It's unfortunate it isn't widely practiced, but the mere fact it exists is enough to give him some inspiration, so he asks for as many facts as you can give. With a bit of planning he absolutely intends to pursue this for Cybertronians, even if by just bringing it up as a proposal, and hopefully Ratchet will be willing to give it a chance!

Ultra Magnus/Minimus Ambus

·Initially he needs you to repeat yourself and explain in more depth, because he's certain he heard you wrong. How can one do something so common "professionally"? It takes a fair amount of conversation and a lot of context for him to understand the therapeutic aspect, which he begins to see once you also lay out what a social species humans are and how damaging solitude can be.

·The idea of healing through affectionate contact is something he can grasp, at least. Cybertronians aren't so different, though many such needs have long been neglected, and he is doubtful it could catch on until a significant amount of restoration is done. He'd be interested in seeing it happen, and can see how it would benefit a war ravaged population, provided there is proper licencing for those who wish to pursue it.

Ratchet

·He's immediately intrigued, but not at all surprised, and discusses the similarities such a practice reveals between humans and Cybertronians. As imposing as bots may be, they're still a social species, and a lack of physical affection can do great harm. Also like humans, bots tend to be unaware of the depth of the need until they're suffering.

·Talking about it really gets him thinking. They've neglected a lot to win the war, and now that they're here, needs like this should come back into focus. It would certainly be worth it to encourage such things where he can, even if bots don't understand or believe in the benefits. They may not have proffesional cuddlers, but this ship is undoubtedly bursting with lonely bots who'd be willing to give it a try.

Rung

·As a kind of therapy, it's entirely new to him, but the benefits are exceptionally clear even before you elaborate. Bots are a caring and tender species under all that armor, despite the image the war has created, so he can see that humans would find solace in such a thing due to their similarities. Being a proponent of slow and measured healing also makes the idea quite agreeable.

·He discusses the possible changes one would have to make for Cybertronians, which would probably be somewhat significant due to their differences in size, anatomy, and cultural practices. The basic idea could still stay though, especially for the many traumatized not just by battle, but by the shortage of tender intimacy the war created in its stead. He'll absolutely write a paper on this, and he actually feels it's worth publishing! Should you suggest he'd be a natural at providing such care he will blush for a multitude of reasons.

Swerve

·He keeps it to himself, but his first emotion is one of absolute longing. Someone to just hold you, and comfort you, with the skill of a therapist but the gentle embrace of a friend? He plays it off like he sees it as another quirky human thing, but he subtly prods for more information under the veneer of casual conversation, and starts wishing his own kind had an equivalent.

·As much as he'd prefer having someone who just wants to be with him like that as a friend, the idea of a proffesional is still tempting beyond belief, and he wonders if the increased interaction between your species might make some bots pick up the trade. Just enjoying the simple, uninterrupted company of another for a bit would be heavenly, but he's absolutely not willing to say that out loud.

Skids

·Knowing that slow and steady therapy works, he can definitely see that being helpful, even if he doubts he'd ever get anything out of something like that. He likes to move and have fun when he socializes, and sitting still with someone would probably just end in a nap for him, not that he minds the idea of that too much...

·One thing he is curious about is the statistics of the occupation, as baffling as they may be. Why are the proffesionals mostly female and the clients mostly male? Don't humans, like bots, long for affection no matter their physical makeup? An explanation of stereotypes and gender roles and everything involved on that front just makes him think he needs a drink.

Whirl

·Of course he cracks a few jokes about tiny squishy humans needing to be mushed, but it's in good humor, because he actually gets it pretty much right away. The whole idea is a sappy one, but all of therapy is sappy, and you can thank brains for being so darn easy to trick up with feelings for that little design flaw.

·He explains that the biggest part of you to hurt when someone screws you over is your sense of trust, so something that makes you be super vulnerable is obviously the way to fix it, at least for some. After emphasizing how he'd never benefit from such a thing, he posits that cuddling is potentially the most dangerous thing you can do, making folks willing to try it on thr regular with strangers pretty damn brave. His logic on the ease of stabbing while snuggling is not one you can argue.

Chromedome

·Fully aware of the chaos life can bring, he immediately gets why someone would want a little time to relax with someone calm, even if it's more of a clinical session than a platonic bonding. Admittedly the lack of concrete guidelines does worry him a little once he hears the qualifications are rather loose, but is anything perfect?

·Being a bot who fully gets how desperate a suffering individual will go, he can't help but consider what a benefit such simple pain relief could be, but also mourns for those who don't have access to something so... basic. Suffice to say he gets ample cuddling, and knows full well how precious every moment is.

Rewind

·Being so focused on memory has taught him the emotional impact even a little encounter can have, so he isn't at all surprised some species would have learned to utilize this, only that his own hasn't. Being such a varied and armored species can make any intimacy difficult, but that hardly means they're strangers to snuggling after all.

·The thought of such loneliness can't help but make him a little sad, especially when he learns many of the humans seeking out this service are in relationships. Not a day goes by for him without hand holding or hugs or nuzzles... He hopes your species makes this more common as therapy for their own sake.

Cyclonus

·Initially he's a bit bewildered, though many aspects of earth culture bewilder him, and further discussion does little to help him grasp the concept or its benefits. It seems silly and, at least internally, he can't help but perceive it as inappropriate. It isn't until you elaborate on why humans seek this service out that he begins to get some clarity.

·Hearing about how many human cultures frown on caring contact in virtually any situation, even between partners, is a little alarming. He knows the struggle of expressing emotions after even allowing yourself to feel them, but to be so caged by tradition that one needs secret contact with a proffesional for a taste of warmth or companionship... well, that's unfortunate.

Tailgate

·Immediately you see him perk up, as if the mere mention of cuddling catches his attention. He asks lots of questions, some on the proffesion and others on the ways humans express care, and while saddened that the job is needed he's happy that help is there for those who need it.

·You're then given an enthusiastic but confidential talk on how he's finally getting all the hugs he needs with Cyclonus, who will never admit it but he's certain is benefiting from the cuddling as much as he is. While not aware of the six million years he was out, it's felt as if his body is, and thus he's been eagerly catching up with loving snuggles whenever possible. Speaking of which, want a hug?

Velocity

·She's not at all caught off guard by the idea, as it makes a lot of sense for the sake of mental health, especially to a doctor of a species that could use the practice. While Caminus has been spared the war between factions, it's unfortunately not a haven for emotional wellbeing either. The need to stand out and meet cultural requirements of frugality forces many to be just as reserved with their needs as the humans seeking out help that you describe.

·She wonders if it'd be possible to introduce something like that to her own people, if not on Cybertron. But there's a lot of cultural resistance, just as she's sure you've seen on earth, to taking care of oneself even for such a basic need. She expresses respect for humans on actually taking the steps to improve.

Nautica

·As with all new things, she's immediately interested in learning the full depth of the subject, both inside and out. If you don't know it all that's okay! She can just plough through a few books and then she'll feel like she's got it down! This means she wants to know about human therapy, affection, cultural hindrances, the neurochemtistry of physical contact... Anything you know to start on these subjects would be helpful.

·Before and after her quick study break, her biggest takeaway is the huge taboo humans have placed on touching, something she can barely wrap her head around. Sure, bots have unnecessary hangups as well, but casual taction just... happens? Why would any culture have issues with that? Even as someone who occasionally trips up and crosses physical boundaries, she knows that space is important, but it's not meant to be a barrier. You'll let her know if you need a break from what sounds like an exhausting mindset, won't you? She's always here for a quick hug or even just a shoulder pat!

Megatron

·All talk of human culture once made him cringe, not out of disgust, but out of an admittedly deserved guilt. With you he's at least opening up to conversation on the topic, and this is one of the things he needs a bit of elaboration on, as his bafflement is so great you can see it on his face. His experience with physical affection being nonexistent doesn't make it any easier for him to follow.

·When you mention the concept of being "touch starved" he finally gets it, but has a less than thrilling realization himself. He's never heard a word describe his deeply buried longing so effectively, and your talk of earth culture occasionally stifling people to the point of needing these services strikes a nerve he hadn't known was so tender. As with every other vulnerability in his life, he buries it down and secures the weakness firmly away, keeping his expression neutral as he pretends the topic is just another curiosity.

103 notes · View notes

athrialuxegna · 3 years

Text

Stronger than she thinks Part 4

Triggers warning: mental and physical abuse, violence, swearing

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

Fanfiction | Archiveofourown | Wattpad

The warm sun rising woke me up. My body felt sore, I have fallen asleep on the roof. My watch indicated that it was 4 a.m. I growled and get up. I needed a shower. My walk back to my apartment was silent, no one was up. I jumped into the bathroom and came out only an hour later. I needed to take care of myself. I dressed nicely in black shorts and a sleeveless top opened in the back, revealing my sports bra. I spent some time doing my hair so that my brown curls would bounce on my shoulders. When I look at my reflection in the glass, I felt fake. My appearance didn't match my inside.

I changed the broken string of my guitar and played for hours. Music kept my demons away. A knock at my door stopped my daydreaming. I put my guitar aside and look at the clock, it was already ten a.m. Time has passed by in a blur. I sighed and opened the door carefully. Harrison was on the other side. He seemed tense, his grey hair outlining his striking blue eyes as well as the dark rings under them.

"Hey, Chris," A small smile grazed his lips.

"Harri' come in," I ushered him, opening the door fully.

He stepped in and sat on the couch as he usually does. We had a sort of father-daughter relationship because of the age gap between us. He neared his fifties as I was going on my twenty-six. I tried to smile in a poor attempt to ease the atmosphere.

"Want something to drink?" I offered.

He declined silently, avoiding my eyes by staring into space. I knew what bothered him. I have kept my rape from him although he could have helped me. Harrison always had my back. Five years of working together had forged a strong bond. I have ruined it by confessing to another person, one of his fellow leaders.

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you. I wanted to process the whole thing before letting anyone know." I apologized, it was no use to beat around the bush.

"Why Eric? I'm not jealous but I'm wondering how it happened to be him." He stated, sincere curiosity twinkling in his eyes.

"Eric cornered me. I had no choice but to tell him." I explained plainly.

"Interesting. I've never seen him so concern. I think taking care of children had rubbed on him after all. It's not a bad thing I guess." He remarked while laughing.

His joyful persona had returned, his bright smile adorning his face. I couldn't help but smile at the thought of Eric becoming soft. I had witnessed this side of the young leader lately, just glimpses that confirmed that he was not as heartless as everyone depicted him.

"I hope he will not be watching me from now on," I replied dryly.

Memories of the night before rushed back to me. Eric's body against mine, his hands on my hips. Our bodies moving in sync to the blasting music. I swallowed thickly. I didn't know how to interact with Eric anymore. We were so close then I broke the spell by singing my feelings before disappearing. It sounded so cheesy although it had been intense.

"I heard you made a show last night. I wish I was here to hear from you." He confessed tenderly.

"Maybe you'll have some other occasion to hear me. I think I need this to get better." I said truthfully.

"You can count on me, you know that Chris. I'm here for you no matter what." He assured, his eyes plunging into mine.

"I know Harri. Thank you."

I sat on the couch next to him and rested my head on his shoulder. Harrison would never hurt me in any way. He was the only man I trusted most in the faction. He had proved more times than I can count that he was reliable on all levels.

"How is it going?" I asked finally.

"Well, we had a meeting early this morning to discuss the situation. The investigation is pretty much finished. All proofs are against Brent. He will be judged within a few days."

"Had Max told you anything about my suspension, yet?"

"No, he might extend it for a few more days to make a point. Don't worry, honey, your job is safe. You know we need you." He smiled down at me.

"You need me because you'll be lost in your papers in no time," I remarked, teasingly.

"Touché!" He exclaimed, putting a hand on his heart.

I couldn't help but laugh at his antics. My face dropped at the knock on my door. I hadn't expected any visitors and now I had two. I excused myself and get up to open the door to... Eric. My surprise was long-short as I heard Harrison coming behind my back.

"Hey, Eric! I was just on my way out." He said with an overly enthusiastic tone. "See you, Chris." He shot at me before making his way into the hallway.

I stood still a second, processing the situation. Eric was staring at me with an unreadable expression. I shifted to the side and made a sign to invite him in. He entered and shut the door behind him. I felt small and ridiculous. I should have known that he wanted an explanation about what happened last night. I didn't even know what to say to ease the awkward tension between us.

"Look, Chris, we danced that's all. We had a good time that's what matters." He stated, his deep voice as cold as ice. "Max wants to see you, that's why I'm here."

I opened my mouth then shut it multiple times like a fish out of water. Stunned by his words. I didn't expect things to go so fast. I wasn't ready to share this horrible night with anyone. Let alone, Max. And I was oddly bothered by the way he acted. The leader's façade returned, crushing my chances to guess what was going on in his mind.

"I'm not ready." I blurted out finally.

Eric turned deadly serious, he crossed his arms over his broad chest, eyes fixated on my own. I couldn't look away, even if I wanted to.

"You have to Christine, that is an order." He said in a dark tone.

I shivered uncontrollably and adverted my eyes to the floor. I hated him for doing that.

"Don't do this ever again. My trust is limited." I huffed in irritation, taking my jacket from the counter kitchen.

"So is mine." He hissed in response, body tensing.

"What's your problem today?" I muttered under my breath while lacing my boots.

"Stop questioning and hurry up." He retorted with an annoyed sigh.

I kept quiet, even when we walked to Max's office. I didn't dare look at Eric. Dread crept upon me as we neared the door's office. I was ready to bolt away, but Eric caught my wrist before I could make a move.

"Don't even think about it." He growled. "You only have to do this once then it's over." His voice strained.

I gulped down the lump in my throat and took a deep breath. Eric opened the door and dragged me inside. I almost lose my footing as I stumbled into the chair in front of Max's messy desk. Mountains of papers and piles of folders covered the wooden furniture. Back straight, head held high, I fought against the urge to puke all over my shoes. I hated to be the center of attention.

"Christine, I'd say it's good to see you if it was under other circumstances." Greeted Max. "I know it's hard for you, but we need your testimony for the investigation. You can take all the time you need." His smooth voice could have eased my nerves if Eric wasn't standing in the corner of the room, gawking like a hawk.

"Hi Max, I agree. It would be better for other reasons." I answered, careful to not let my voice falter. "Hm, it was last Monday night. Brent found me in the Pit. He wanted my help for something, or so I thought at the moment, I don't really remember what it was about... I think he claimed that members were organizing fighting sessions there, making bets and exchanging points or something like that."

It was difficult to walk down memory lane. Images came rushing through my mind, poisoning my every thought. I took a deep breath, eyes fixated on the pen Max was holding. I couldn't look at him while I was picturing Brent right in front of me.

"Anyway, he dragged me in the old quarters to check it out. I didn't know something was off until he pushed me into a dark room. I..." I swallowed thickly. "I didn't have time to react because he hit me behind the head with his gun then he... He began to take my pants off... I... I was too knocked out to fight him. He... He took advantage of me and I couldn't..." My throat got tighter at every word. "I couldn't do anything while he... he raped me. Then, he threatened me, I wasn't supposed to tell anyone or he... He was going to make me factionless."

I didn't see their reactions, I didn't need to. The tension filling the room was enough to know what was crossing their minds. Before any of them could utter a word, I added:

"I don't want anyone to know about this aside from the people already involved. If that's even possible."

"I'm afraid that's not, my dear. Dauntless law demands a vote from all members to establish a punishment. But we can keep your name out of the victims' list if you want to."

I only nodded in response. My nails were digging in the armrest of the chair, my knuckles turning white under the pressure. My heart lumped in my chest when Eric took a step forward. I could see his black combat boots in my peripheral vision.

"Did he use a condom?"

Heat rose in my cheeks and my breath caught up in my throat. I didn't expect that question. I lowered my head a little more to avoid their pointed stares. Recollecting this night was harder than anything that I have ever done. I felt everything all over again. The pain coming from his bites on my skin, his fingers digging in my hips, his pantings in my ear, the pain between my legs as I was begging for him to stop. Brent overwhelmed all my senses. I wasn't in the office anymore but in that dark room with him.

"Chris? Christine?" Eric's voice forced me out of my memories. "Did he use a condom?" He repeated, his voice smoother than silk.

I closed my eyes for a brief second. If he didn't use one, there was a possibility that I was pregnant. How didn't I think about it? When was my last period? Not a clue. My mouth felt dry.

"I honestly don't know," I whispered in disbelief.

"You should go see Marlene check this out, it's better to do it sooner than later." Advised Max. "We'll announce Brent's trial tonight, the vote will be held in five days from now on. You're suspended until the end of the week."

My head shot up instantly. Harrison told me that he would extend my suspension, but it still hurt. I loved my job because I felt useful, purposeful. I huffed and crossed my arms over my chest to prevent both men from seeing them shaking.

"Look, I know this is about me beating the shit out of Brent. I won't apologize because he deserved it, but I'm sorry for breaking the rules of 'no fighting outside rings'. I get it, I messed up and it's not tolerable for someone close to leadership but give me some lack. I've never broken any rule before, I've been obedient and followed orders my whole life, you can't do this to me. I need my job, Max, please." My voice wavered at the end.

Max get up and walked around his desk, hands clasped behind his back. He spared a long look at Eric who nodded in response. Their silent conversation put me on edge. I should have shut it. I just proved that I was unstable. Great move, dumbass. Max stand right in front of me, careful to keep a decent distance between us. His sympathetic look gave me the urge to slap him across the face. I didn't need his pity, but I needed my job to keep me from going insane. If I didn't have anything to focus on, I might lose my mind and do something really stupid.

"It is not really a suspension as you understand it." His thin lips stretched into a comforting smile. "Think of it as vacations. You need to recover and take care of yourself first, Chris. My decision is not to be discussed."

I huffed in response but didn't push any further, Max was not someone to disagree with. I stole a glance at Eric. He nodded slightly his head as to ushered me to keep a low profile. Well, at least someone was on my side. One that I would not have imagined.

"So, what am I supposed to do until then a part of taking care of me?"

"I've heard that the Child Care Service needed someone from time to time to watch the kids."

"I'll think about it," I answered while looking at Eric, an eyebrow raised in question. "If that's all, am I free to go?" I asked, already out of the chair.

Max dismissed me by pointing the door with his head with a small smile. I turned on my heels before doing or saying something I might regret. One question lingered in my head, did Eric asked for me to work at the Child Care Service, or was it, Max?

#ericxoc #ericcoulter #eric coulter #eric divergent #divergent #divergentfanfiction #fanfiction #four #max

14 notes · View notes