#and yes his books are about blurred realities
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i just finished reading Phillip K. Dick's Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep? and i was trying to get my thoughts in order, so I decided to do a bit of background research.
I am now staring at the wikipedia page for theodicy and wondering how this man lived for so long. someone broke into his house and blew up his file folders. a neo-nazi group allegedly tried to involve him. he wrote most/all of his works before 1970 while under the influence of amphetamine. 21 books in 10 years. he wrote a letter to the FBI about Thomas Disch and said a covert anti-american organisation attempted to recruit him. i can't tell if its the same one as before. a woman came to his door, a beam of pink light imparted wisdom and clairvoyance. the beam came back later and told him his infant son was ill, which turned out to be true. he was married five times.
this is not a little bit of research. how did this happen. how did i end up here. i'm questioning if the world exists, and that's exactly what he would have wanted
#do androids dream of electric sheep#phillip k dick#books#and yes his books are about blurred realities#mental illness#drug use & abuse#humanity and empathy#i wondered how he came up with the idea for this book while i was reading it and now i know#i don't know what to tag this
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agora hills.
pairing: lorenzo berkshire x reader.
song inspiration: agora hills by doja cat.
author's note: as always, this unhinged fic idea started in chlo and i's endless chats about these pesky men. enzo has a special place in my heart because he's so golden retriever sunshine (don't be fooled by that face though he's filthy).
Enzo Berkshire was your best friend.
Despite what your friends seemed to think, the relationship between you two had always been strictly platonic. Perhaps it was easy to misinterpret your actions as romantic. After all, you and Enzo were very touchy and affectionate people. It was typical of you two to hold hands in the halls, cuddle in the common room, and even share the occasional cheek or forehead kiss, which you deemed completely normal. This type of behavior has been the standard since you were eleven years old.
Still, you weren’t blind. You knew your best friend was attractive. Enzo had always been handsome in your eyes, but then fourth year rolled around and everyone else started to notice it too. To be fair, he had grown at least a foot over the summer and quidditch definitely helped him pack on lean muscle. Needless to say, girls flocked to him like a swarm of bees to honey, but he never really seemed interested in any of them. Not that you were paying attention. It was a natural thing to notice when you spent every waking moment with someone.
The point of the matter was that you had absolutely no romantic feelings for Enzo whatsoever. Or so you thought. Until the bloody dream that flipped your friendship on its head.
It was a normal day. You and Enzo were studying in your dorm like you usually did after class. Enzo was sprawled out on the rug scribbling away for his assignment on Ancient Runes. You were on your bed reading up on History of Magic. You knew you should be focusing since there would be a test tomorrow, but the chapter was boring and you were absolutely knackered from attending classes all day.
Before you knew it, you were fully knocked out. A part of you was aware that you were dreaming, but the surreality of it blurred the lines of reality.
In your dreams, you were still in your room studying with Enzo. Except your best friend was no longer hunched over his homework on your rug. Now Enzo was standing at the edge of your bed, blocking out the afternoon sun. You stared up in confusion as he took the book from your hands.
“Enz? What are you doing?”
Enzo stared intently at you, his soft hazel eyes flickering down to your lips. It was a little like being hit with a beam of sunshine. Your heart stuttered in your chest as he ran his thumb across your bottom lip.
“I want to try something.”
You held your breath as Enzo leaned over. The bed dipped from his weight as you sat frozen in place. He rubbed soothing circles along your wrist, causing you to melt into his touch. It was a familiar sensation, one that always calmed you down but right at that moment, you felt anything but. The beat of your heart echoed so loudly that you were sure he could hear it.
Enzo leaned in close, his face mere inches away from yours. He stroked your cheek gently. “I want to kiss you,” he murmured, the low whisper of his voice conjuring goosebumps along your arms. “Can I?”
You blinked, swallowing thickly. He was so close that you could smell the woodsy smell of his cologne, combined with a hint of fresh laundry and citrus.
“Yes,” you responded breathily.
Before you could think better of it, Enzo was kissing you. It was soft and sweet, his kisses gentle while he tested the waters. The quick little pecks soon evolved into deeper kisses as your body responded to his touch. Your hands moved outside of your own volition, fingers tangling in Enzo’s hair as you pulled him closer. He groaned and tilted your head back for a better angle, your bodies pressed close together and radiating heat underneath your clothes.
Enzo scooted back on the headboard and pulled you into his lap without breaking the kiss. You gasped when his hands roamed underneath your skirt, gripping your thighs so that you were fully settled over his length. What started as a sweet innocent kiss escalated into a full on heated makeout session. Kissing till your lips were swollen. Moaning into each other’s mouths. Grasping at every inch of skin the two of you could reach.
When you felt him grind his hardness against your backside, you gasped. Enzo took the opportunity to slide his tongue into your mouth, swirling and sucking until you were panting above him.
“Y/N,” he grunted huskily. “I need you.”
The desperation in Enzo’s voice made you shudder. You didn’t even think twice before unbuckling his belt and tugging his boxers down. Enzo groaned as he stroked himself, pulling your panties to the side. You whimpered as he teased his tip at your entrance.
“I want you so fucking bad.”
“I want you too, Enzo.”
Friendship be damned, Enzo gripped your hips and watched as you sank into him. His eyes rolled back when he felt your warmth and wetness hug around his cock.
“Fuck,” he groaned, resting his head in the crook of your neck. “Gods, you feel so fucking good. Better than I imagined.”
You clenched at his words and he inhaled sharply before rolling your hips to set the pace. Once you established a steady rhythm, Enzo pinned you with his lust blown gaze and watched as you rode him. He lavished you with sloppy kisses, stopping every now and then to moan into your mouth while you continued rolling your hips against him.
“That’s it, princess. Feels good, yeah? Keep rolling your hips just like that,” Enzo said, thrusting upwards to fuck into you. “Wanna feel you cum on my cock, pretty girl.”
The filthy words sent you over the edge. Just as Enzo hit that perfect spot, your eyes flew open.
You were startled to find yourself back in your dorm, warm, sweaty, and alone in bed. You nearly fell off altogether when you found Enzo still sitting on the rug below you. While you were dreaming about doing filthy things with him, Enzo was completely oblivious and focused on studying. Like you should’ve been.
Enzo perked up, concern written all over his face when he saw how flushed you were. He immediately rushed over to your side. Your cheeks were so red that he thinks you might be running a fever. Enzo pressed the back of his hand against your forehead and you bit down on your bottom lip to keep yourself from moaning.
“You’re burning up, Y/N.” Enzo sounded genuinely worried. If only he knew the reason why you currently shared the same temperature as the common room fireplace. “Maybe I should walk you over to the infirmary?”
“No!” Your voice echoed shrilly in your dorm, causing you to wince. “I’m fine. I just…I just need fresh air.”
“Oh good, I’ll come walk with you.”
“No,” you said rather harshly. Enzo frowned. “I, uh, I think I should go alone.”
Now Enzo was truly perturbed. He pouted at your refusal. Why didn’t you want him to come? You always walked around the Black Lake together.
“Are you sure you’re alright, Y/N?”
He squinted at you, hoping to catch your gaze. You completely avoided looking him in the eyes before scrambling out of bed.
“I’m fine, really. I’ll see you later, Enz.”
You were out the door before Enzo even had a chance to respond.
You were acting like a bloody idiot.
After that unfortunate afternoon, you spent the next few days avoiding Enzo. The dream had completely flustered you. It was impossible to be in the same room as your best friend. You couldn’t even look Enzo in the eyes without thinking of him being inside of you.
More than that, it was making you rethink your entire friendship. You adored Enzo. He had been a constant in your life since first year. The two of you were inseparable and he was pretty much the most important person in your life. You had never once thought about him in a sexual manner, but obviously you were attracted to him given the filthy thoughts that flooded your mind like a plague.
You were praying to Merlin that this stupid little lapse of yours would pass and take all the hormone addled aftereffects with it. Perhaps it was just lack of physical affection that was causing you to think this way. After all, you had broken up with your last boyfriend months ago. There was the casual hookup every now and then, but those never really satisfied you in the way that you wanted. It certainly wasn’t anything like how Enzo had been in your dream.
As you cataloged and compared your most recent stints, the intrusive thought slipped in without warning. There were no secrets between you and Enzo, so you knew that it had been awhile since he hooked up with anyone else too. Come to think of it, except for a couple flings here and there, Enzo has never really had a serious relationship.
You never really thought much about it. It wasn’t like you were running headfirst into commitment either, but now you couldn’t help but wonder why Enzo had never had a girlfriend. Were relationships just not his cup of tea? If so, why the bloody hell not?
By the time you had unraveled that string, Pansy was snapping her fingers in front of your face. You shook your head and rejoined the present. Before your little spiral, you and Pansy had been discussing the homework for Charms.
Your friend narrowed her eyes on you. “Alright, spill,” Pansy said. “There’s clearly something on your mind.”
You peered around the common room. For the most part, it was empty. Only a few of the other Slytherins lingered in your midst, but one could never be too careful in the viper’s nest.
Once you were sure the coast was clear, you leaned closer to Pansy and spoke in a low voice. “Have you ever had a dream about one of the guys?”
Pansy leaned back on the velvet emerald couch with an expression of intrigue. “What kind of dream?”
“You know,” you urged, picking at the cushion in your lap. “The sexual kind.”
She shook her head, her glossy bob shimmering in the faint light. “No, I can’t say that I have.”
“I have!” Theo said cheerfully as he plopped down between you. His presence startled you, but he looked utterly unperturbed as he butted into the conversation. “About both of you, actually.”
You wrinkled your nose and smacked him on the arm. “Gross, Theo.”
“I’m inclined to agree,” Pansy said with a look of disgust.
Theo was deeply offended by it all. “What? I’ll have you know that I was very loving and gentle,” you groaned and made a gagging sound. “I also had one about Reg and that one wasn’t as gentle, if you know what I mean.”
He grinned cheekily, which only made you lament further. Pansy shook her head in disbelief. “Really, Regulus? He’s the human equivalent of a grumpy black cat. All the first years are terrified of him.”
Theo shrugged. “What can I say? I’m into that. All that surliness and those curls, y’know…”
It was Pansy’s turn to smack him. “For Salazar’s fucking sake, shut it, Theodore. I want to know who Y/N had a dream about.”
“Was it Riddle?” Theo prompted.
“Which one?”
“Mattheo, obviously. Tom looks like he hasn’t had a woman’s touch in years.”
“That’s mean!” you cut in. “I’m telling Tom you said that.”
“Please don’t. I value my life, thank you very much.”
Pansy scoffed. “It’s not either one of the Riddles then.”
“Was it me?” asked Theo.
“Gods, no.”
He rolled his eyes in response. “It can’t be Blaise because him and Pans are shagging on the daily.” Theo’s eyes widened. “Don’t tell me it’s Malfoy.”
“Absolutely not.”
“But he’s close, right?” Pansy said, tapping her chin thoughtfully. You nodded weakly. She gasped. “Oh my god, Berkshire? Really?”
You buried your face in your hands. You were truly going to die of embarrassment. Pansy continued with her assessment. “Well, you two are practically attached at the hip, so it makes sense. Still, I truly didn’t expect it to be Enzo. He’s so sweet, I just can’t see him that way.”
The shit-eating grin on Theo’s face made you cringe. “Was it good? It had to be, right? Is that why you’ve been avoiding him all week?”
“What? I haven’t been avoiding him.”
“Sure you have,” declared Theo. “Berkshire’s all broken up about it. Thinks he’s done something to upset you. The whole time you’ve been nursing filthy little fantasies about sweet baby boy Enzo. Oh, I can’t wait to tell the guys about this.”
Panic seized you and Theo yelped as you held his arm in a death grip. “You can’t say a fucking word, Theo. Do you hear me? It’s already humiliating enough to have a sex dream about my best friend. I will literally murder you if you tell any of the boys.”
Theo sighed. “Fine, I won’t tell. Now let go of me, woman.”
“What are you going to do?” asked Pansy. “You can’t keep avoiding Enzo forever.”
You sighed. You were completely and utterly at a loss. Pansy was right. Enzo was already starting to suspect something and you felt bad that he thought he’d done something to upset you when you were the one in the wrong. How could you possibly act normal after all of this?
“Maybe you should ask him if he’s ever thought about you that way,” Theo suggested. “That way the ball’s in his court.”
You scoffed. “I’m supposed to just come up to him and casually ask, Hey Enz, have you ever had a sex dream about me that was so filthy that you couldn’t make eye contact for days after?”
“I guarantee you the answer will be yes.”
As you chided Theo for being his usual ridiculous self, Pansy discretely nudged you. Enzo rounded the corner and waved at the three of you. Theo and Pansy shared a look before leaving you to your own devices. Bloody traitors.
Enzo was unbothered by their sudden departure. “Hi, love. I haven’t seen you all week. You haven’t been avoiding me, have you?”
His tone was light and playful, but it still made you nervous as all hell. “No, not at all,” you internally cringed at the forced cheeriness in your voice. “I’ve just been…busy. Yeah, that’s it. No other reason.”
For Salazar’s fucking sake. You were horrible at this. Lying to Enzo wasn’t something you were used to.
Enzo nodded. “Okay, well we’re still on for movie night, right?”
“Oh, yeah, about that—“
“It shouldn't be a problem,” he added thoughtfully, shooting you a cheeky grin. “Unless you’re actually avoiding me.”
Fuck. Your mind was screaming at you to say no. To make up some lame excuse. To do something other than gape at Enzo.
Unfortunately, your brain decided to stop working as soon as those dimples of his made an appearance. Merlin’s bloody beard, you truly needed to get a grip.
You forced yourself to smile back so he wouldn’t think anything was amiss. “”I was just going to ask what snacks you wanted.”
“Just you,” Enzo said, his grin growing wider. Did his voice suddenly sound deeper than it had a few seconds ago? No, it was likely just your delusion. “That’s all I need.”
Later that night, Enzo arrived with the projector and a handful of movie choices. You spent the entire afternoon pacing and working yourself into a fit. He was entirely unaware of the cloud of anxiety hanging over you as he loaded up your favorite movie.
Your dorm had never felt as cramped as it did at this moment. Enzo plopped down on your bed. The scene of the crime. You climbed in on the other end and resigned yourself to sitting perfectly upright and rigid while he made himself comfortable. Enzo looked at you strangely. Usually, the two of you would be cuddling.
“What are you doing all the way over there?” Enzo asked, spreading his arms out. “Come cuddle.”
You sighed internally. This felt like tempting fate, but what could you do? If you refused, Enzo would definitely know that something was up. As slow as a snail, you scooted closer to his side. He took one look at you and shook his head before hauling you over to him. Besides being manhandled, the position was quite familiar. You tucked against his side, head resting on his shoulder while he nuzzled his cheek against your hair.
Enzo pressed play and you started to relax while the movie unfolded. The peace didn’t last for long. As the opening scene played, Enzo absentmindedly tugged at the hem of your shirt. Again, his affectionate nature wasn’t anything out of the ordinary. Yet you couldn’t help but hold your breath as he rubbed soothing circles against your hip. While the gesture usually comforted you, it had the opposite effect now.
“You’re so tense, love,” Enzo murmured. His voice sounded so deep and delicious.
“It’s been a stressful week.”
“I bet.”
You shuddered as he trailed his fingers over your spine, drawing patterns along your skin. Temptation wasn’t knocking at your door. It was kicking it down altogether. Enzo shifted, brushing his knuckles just below the hook of your bra.
“This can’t be comfortable,” he said, hooking a finger around the band. “Maybe you’ll feel more relaxed with it off. Don’t you think so, sweetheart?”
There was no time to analyze what the fuck was going on. All of your efforts were spent solely on fighting the urge to moan. Enzo toyed with the band, waiting for your answer.
“Yeah,” you said breathily. “I think—I think you’re right.”
“Course I am. Let me take it off for you then, yeah?”
“Okay.”
Enzo unhooked your bra with a flick of his fingers. Almost like he had long mastered the art and this was merely just child’s play. He helped you shrug out of your bra and carelessly tossed it to the side. You sighed softly as Enzo switched to long, purposeful strokes. He started at your hips, then your stomach, gradually moving up until he was barely an inch away from the underside of your breasts. Your eyes fluttered close, completely lost to his touch. They opened again when Enzo nuzzled his nose against yours.
“Hi,” he said with a smile.
“Hi,” you whispered. “What are we doing, Enzo?”
“Nothing that I haven’t thought about a million times over.”
“You’ve thought about me like this?”
“I’m always thinking about you,” Enzo admitted. “Sometimes it’s just cuddling or holding hands. Just sweet stuff cause I love touching you like this, but other times…other times I dream about you like you dreamt about me.”
Your breath hitched. “You know about my dream?”
“I heard you in the common room earlier.”
“I’m sorry,” you said. “I don’t know what came over me. That’s why I haven’t talked to you much this week. I didn’t want to make you feel uncomfortable.”
Enzo took your hand and slid it down the front of his gray sweatpants. You gasped when you felt how hard he was against your palm. “Do I feel uncomfortable to you, sweetheart?”
You shook your head, biting down on your lip. You didn’t trust yourself with words at the moment. Enzo nuzzled against you, littering soft little kisses in his wake. He pecked and nipped at your neck, your collarbone, your jaw.
“You drive me fucking mad, you know that? I want you so badly I’d literally get on my knees and beg if you asked.”
The tension was too much for you to bear. You pulled him in by the front of his shirt and pressed your lips against his. Enzo groaned into your mouth. The hand underneath your shirt crawled up until he was cupping your tits, rubbing his thumb over your nipples. Enzo tried to keep the kisses soft. He intended to savor it, but every ounce of self control went out the window the second he heard you moan.
Enzo flipped you over so that you were straddling his lap. He looked down and realized that you were wearing one of his old shirts and the sight of it made him even harder. The tiny shorts you were wearing was a pesky little barrier, but it didn’t stop him from grinding his hardness against your ass. He tugged at the hem of your shirt.
“Take this off, right now. I need to feel you, pretty girl.”
He watched as you peeled off the shirt. Enzo did the same, tossing both articles of clothing over the side of your bed. He groaned at the skin to skin contact. Enzo smiled as he drank it all in.
“You’re so fucking beautiful.”
“You’re not bad to look at either, Enz.”
Enzo chuckled. “Cheeky girl. Come on, then. Shorts off too.”
You took off your shorts as Enzo slipped out of his sweatpants and boxers. He kissed you again, sloppy, filthy, and downright obscene. There was plenty of panting and groping as the two of you explored each other’s bodies. Enzo practically purred into your ear as you rubbed over his shaft. He felt like velvet in your hands. When you flicked your thumb to spread the bead of precum over his tip, Enzo released an animalistic growl.
“Oh fuck,” he whimpered. “Gods, I need to be inside of you right fucking now or I’ll die.”
There was no time to slide off your panties. Enzo merely yanked it to the side and guided you over him. He kept his eyes on you as you sank down slowly, taking him inch by inch. Enzo groaned, digging his fingers into your hips while you adjusted to his size.
“Goddamn, you’re so wet and so fucking tight.”
You had no idea that such filthy words could sound like music in your ears. Enzo may have been sweet as sugar, but you knew that he wasn’t innocent. He was far too cheeky to be anything but downright dirty in bed.
Enzo was also extremely responsive. He made sure to praise and worship like your body was an altar and he was the most pious believer.
“Enz, gods,” you moaned as he flicked his tongue over your nipple. “You’re really good at that.”
“Yeah?” He asked cheekily. “You think so?”
You chuckled. It was such an Enzo comment. If you weren’t actively losing your mind, you might’ve rolled your eyes at him. Whatever fantasy your mind has conjured paled in comparison to reality. Sex with Enzo was easy. You knew him and you trusted him. It was like breathing air.
Every moan and whimper only helped you grow more and more attuned with each other’s bodies. The sounds you made were a special language of its own, one that only you and Enzo understood.
“That’s it, princess. You’re taking me so well.”
“Like that?” you asked, rolling your hips.
Enzo groaned in response, which made you smirk in satisfaction. He chuckled and kissed you deeply. “Ride me harder, sweetheart. Fuck…yeah just like that.”
He moaned into your mouth, meeting the roll of your hips with thrusts of his own. Enzo pressed his forehead against your, his long lashes kissing the tops of your cheekbones while he pressed you closer. The deep angle in which he drove into you had you clawing at his back.
“Oh gods, oh fuck. I can feel you clenching around me, pretty girl. You’re gonna cum for me like a good girl, yeah?”
“I’m so close.” Enzo flipped you onto your back and fucked you into the mattress. The tension uncoiled in your core until you were panting, chasing after that sweet release. “Oh—oh gods, Enzo.”
The orgasm knocked the very breath from your lungs. It was a total out of body experience. Your back arched, your toes curled, and you screamed his name, but none of it registered past the pleasure of coming. As soon as Enzo felt you creaming him from base to tip, he came too.
It was strangely beautiful to watch. Enzo was mesmerizing. With his sweat slicked skin and swollen lips, strands of his dark hair clinging onto his flushed cheeks. You’ve never seen such a pretty sight.
The two of you stayed curled up into each other. Enzo slowly pulled out and placed a tender kiss on your temple. This time, there wasn’t a single hint of hesitation as you cuddled up against his side. He was warm and comfortable, lulling you into sleep as he tangled his long legs with yours.
You didn’t know how long you drifted off. It only felt like a few seconds later when you found yourself on your stomach, blinking sleepily up at Enzo. He smiled, kissing along your spine as he pried your legs apart. You groaned into the pillow as he thrusted lazily from behind.
It was dark as night outside when you were finally done. You couldn’t even remember how many times he made you cum. All you knew was that you were in complete bliss as you and Enzo sprawled out on your sheets.
You looked up at Enzo. He looked down at you. The two of you burst into a nervous fit of giggles.
“Shit. Did we just—“
He nodded, curling a strand of your hair through his fingers. “Yeah, we definitely did. Two. Three. Four times? I honestly lost count.”
You chuckled softly. There was a moment of silence as you collected yourself. Enzo lowered himself down so that you were facing each other.
“Penny for your thoughts?” He asked, nudging your cheek with his nose. “Tell me what’s going on in that head of yours, pretty girl.”
Despite your steamy activities, you had never felt more shy than when he brushed his lips across your knuckles.
“I care about you, Enzo and I know you care about me too. Tonight was….fuck. Tonight was great. I just want to make sure this doesn’t change our friendship.”
“Of course it’s going to change things,” Enzo said matter-of-factly. “You think I can stay just friends with you after that?”
You swallowed thickly. “I don’t want you to feel obligated. I know you don’t really date. I mean, half the school’s asked you out and you’ve turned them all down, so I’m not expecting to be the exception. It’s alright if you just want this to be casual.”
“I don’t. I’ve said no to everyone because I’ve been waiting for you. You are the exception, Y/N. It’s always been you.”
“Really?” you whispered, biting back a smile. “You mean that?”
Enzo nodded and kissed your fingertips. “Sweetheart, you’ve had me in the palm of your hands since we were eleven. Of course I mean it.”
You didn’t try to hide your smile. You were absolutely beaming. “So you don’t want things to be casual?”
“There’s nothing casual about what I feel for you.”
“Okay,” you said, processing his revelation. “I don’t want things to be casual either. It might be selfish, but I think I want you all to myself, Enzo.”
He released a sigh of relief. “Oh thank fucking Merlin. I want you all to myself too, Y/N.”
#i hope you all see him for what he is now which is a sl*t#enzo berkshire#lorenzo berkshire#enzo berkshire x reader#lorenzo berkshire x reader#enzo berkshire x you#lorenzo berkshire x you#lorenzo berkshire imagine
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Was it all a dream?
Chapter Eight: It isn't the same but it is enough
Din Djarin x F!Reader
Series Masterlist | Series Playlist
Series summary: You’ve always had vivid dreams, an escape from your monotonous life. But one night, something appears in your dreams that keeps reoccurring; a pair of brown eyes.
-Or-
Two people, in completely different parts of the galaxy, find each other in their dreams and try to make sense of the strange connection they share.
Series warnings: reader is able-bodied, canon divergent (long live the Razor Crest), switches between Reader and Din’s POV, story takes place in the dream realm and the real world, takes place somewhere between the end of season two/Book of Boba Fett/beginning + middle of season three, eventual smut, line between reality and dreams gets blurred, use of Mando’a words and phrases, no use of y/n
Chapter summary: Din takes a bounty-hunting job on Tatooine before the Mandalorians reclaim Mandalore. Just when you think you're free, someone comes to capture you and turn you in for your crimes.
Word count: 3.8k
Chapter warnings: light jealousy, restraints, oral sex (F receiving), fingering, vaginal sex, unprotected sex, creampie
Fic notifs: @beskarandblastersfics Fic recs: @kelbellsficrecs
Din
It’s been a whirlwind few weeks for Din. After he left Tatooine he set his sights on Mandalore, looking to redeem himself in the living waters. All with Grogu at his side. He thinks about his dreams with you, where he called Grogu his son, where you called him his son. It all feels natural now that they’re reunited. The only missing thing is you.
He thought he would just redeem himself and continue his search for you. He was wrong.
Redeeming himself at the Mines of Mandalore went horribly. He was attacked by Alamites and captured by a Cyborg, leaving Grogu to fend for himself. Luckily, Grogu was able to take the ship back to Kalevala to get Bo-Katan to help. Once again, Din just assumed that once he was rescued he could continue with his quest. He was wrong again.
It isn’t until Bo-Katan is welcomed to the new covert and the group returns to Nevarro that Din finds a free moment. Once the pirate attack is taken care of and the covert reclaims their old space. It’s been weeks at this point. He hasn’t had a free moment to even think about finding you. He’s barely sleeping and when he does sleep he’s barely remembering his dreams, not aware of them at all most of the time. Sometimes he’s lucky he sees flashes on your face but it’s not often. He wonders where you are. If you’ve lost hope in the relationship since he’s been so busy.
But when he’s doubting everything the most, the Maker gives him the answer to his prayers.
On top of being the High Magistrate of Nevarro, Karga still runs the Bounty Hunter’s Guild, where two very important bounties come in.
“Mando?” Karga asks him, stepping out of the guild just as Din walks by. The covert’s been here for a few days, finalizing their plan to return to Mandalore. Which is why Karga’s hoping Din will say yes.
“What is it?” Din says, turning to face him. Grogu stops beside him, still getting around with IG-12.
“I know you’re leaving soon but do you have time for these two bounties? They’re on Tatooine.”
He doesn’t have time. But he’s been to Tatooine plenty of times. And something about this is telling him to say yes. He was just looking for you on Tatooine. Could this be a sign?
“Let me take a look,” he says, shuffling past Karga and heading inside the Guild.
He takes his familiar place at Karga’s booth, sitting across from him. Grogu stands beside the booth, mindlessly pressing random buttons. But when Karga pulls out the two holopucks, Din’s heart drops into his stomach.
The first one is some random guy named Shoan. But the second one? The second one is you. He can’t believe his eyes. There you are, your image projected in the blue, flicking light. You’re real but he already knew that from the time your underwear materialized from his dream. But you’re on Tatooine and you’re so close within reach. He wishes he could look at your picture without his helmet in the way. His ears are ringing with excitement but he tries to tune it out. He has to listen to what Karga says about you.
“These two stole a ship from Naboo, a J-type 327 Nubian Starship. Witnesses caught them sneaking around one of the largest docking yards on Theed.”
Naboo? What were you doing on Naboo?
“Sources say they’re on Tatooine now. Most likely holed up in Mos Espa.”
Karga places the tracking fobs on the table and Din swiftly grabs everything, anxious to get out of there already.
“So you’ll do it?”
“Yeah. No problem,” he says quickly, barreling out of there. Grogu follows behind him and once they’re back to the covert he scoops him out of IG-12, handing him to Bo-Katan. She raises her eyebrow when Din asks her to watch Grogu while he’s gone but she doesn’t ask any questions. She knows he’s a bounty hunter but she doesn’t question why this one seems so urgent. He tells the Armorer he’ll be gone for a bit, maybe a couple of rotations tops. There’s a tinge of annoyance in her voice when she responds, telling him not to take too long but he doesn’t care. This will be the fastest bounty he’s tracked down in his life.
With a clear mind and a newfound purpose, he takes off on Nevarro, setting a course for Tatooine. Once he’s comforted by the familiar glow of hyperspace he lets his mind wander. He’s been so focused on you he hasn’t even thought about who you’re with. Who is this man? You never mentioned anyone else.
Shoan.
He’s spiraling now, much like the blue swirls of hyperspace around him. Has this man been there the whole time? And if so why didn’t you tell him?
Does he even have a right to be jealous? He had sex with that prostitute on Coruscant. He didn’t tell you about it either. It wasn’t on purpose. There are lots of details he doesn’t remember about his life when he’s in the dream realm. But when his mind is quiet, which is rare lately, he thinks about you and what your reaction would be if you found out about the night at the brothel. He always tries to quickly put that thought out of his mind. Thankfully, he hasn’t had a free moment to think about this stuff lately.
For now, he lets hyperspace hypnotize him to sleep.
You
The flight to Tatooine is even rougher than the flight to Naboo. To say that Shoan doesn’t understand how to pilot this ship would be an understatement. It’s a miracle you made it to Tatooine in the first place.
He landed the ship in the middle of the desert and the two of you made your way to the nearest town– Mos Espa.
As you made the schlep there you thought about your dream that took place here. Din wasn’t kidding about the suns and how harsh they were. And to think there was a time when you yearned to feel the sun on your skin.
Once you got to Mos Espa you hung around the local cantina, unsure of where to go next. You were hoping someone would take pity on you and Shoan, especially in your heat exhaustion-riddled state.
Lucky for you, you got just what you needed. A kind innkeeper named Mila took you in. You agreed to work in housekeeping and Shoan in maintenance for a free room but also reduced pay. You agreed and the rest was history.
Fast forward a few weeks later to the present. You’re sharing a two queen bed room with Shoan because that’s all Mila could spare. It could be worse. You could be forced to cozy up in a king bed together.
But still, you’re not used to sharing a room with someone, let around that someone being Shoan of all people, so sleep is less than desirable. You’ve been seeing Din in your dreams but not in the way you’d like. It’s more like flickering images of his face before you wake up. It’s a tease of what your dreams once were.
Thankfully, Shoan hasn’t been inappropriate with you. Now that there are several other humans to choose from, he doesn’t need you. You’re not offended. Though it’s pretty annoying when he demands use of the room and you have to make yourself busy for a few hours…
Whatever, it’s fine. You’ll feel a sense of normalcy soon.
It’s a typical afternoon for you today. You just got done cleaning all of the rooms at the inn and you’re at the end of your shift. Shoan said he needed the room for a few hours so you have no choice but to entertain yourself elsewhere. You quickly change out of your work uniform and into more comfortable clothes before heading to the cantina, hoping that there’s a band playing tonight.
But as you step out of the inn something blinds you. And it’s not the suns for once.
Coming towards you is a man, covered in silver armor that the light is reflecting off of. You blink a few times, letting your eyes get adjusted to the light. And when you do you notice he’s covered in weapons. His stance, the way he walks, the silence from him– it’s all imposing and threatening. You’re frozen in fear, unintentionally ignoring every impulse to turn and run. He keeps coming towards you, reaching for something on his hip and that’s when the instinct to run finally kicks in.
You turn on your heel and try to run but he’s faster than you, even under all the layers and armor in this sweltering heat. You don’t dare turn your head and try to look behind you, you can just feel him gaining on you. But as you pathetically try to run, people stop and stare, mouths hanging open at the scene unfolding in the street.
Before you know if you’re falling to the ground with sand flying up in the air around you. Something is caught around your ankles. You look down and it’s some type of silver cord wrapped tight. The sun hurts your eyes for a split second before the man that was chasing you towers over you. He blocks out the sun and you’re cast in his massive shadow, feeling hopeless. You wonder why no one is stopping to help you. But then the man crouches down and pulls out a holopuck with your picture on it. And it all makes sense.
“This is you, right?”
You open your mouth but no words come out. Your jaunt around the galaxy is over. It doesn’t matter that you stole a ship on Naboo. The Sullustans still found a way to track you, even after trying so hard to be careful.
The man releases the cord around your ankle and helps you up. The freedom is quickly lost however when handcuffs enclose your wrists. He grabs you by the arm and walks you out of Mos Espa, dragging you to his ship. You wonder about Shoan and whether there’s a bounty after him. Maybe he’s already captured and waiting for you on this man’s ship. Maybe they don’t want him for some reason. Either way, it doesn’t really matter. The taste of freedom you had is being ripped away from you in an instant.
The man pulls you up the ramp of his large but albeit awkward-looking ship. Once the ramp is sealed shut he sits you down on a metal crate, pulling up another one to sit across from you. He’s silent for a moment, the visor of his helmet moving up and down, studying you.
“Hello?” you ask, the first word you’ve uttered to him since he captured you.
He doesn’t answer, prompting you to roll your eyes.
“Look, if you’re just going to bring me back to Sullust can we get it over with already? Or better yet, can you just kill me instead?”
“You’re not going back to Sullust,” he says simply.
“…Okay? So where am I going?”
He doesn’t answer again and now you’re getting fed up. You feel like he’s ignoring you or stalling until he can finally tell you what’s going on. You close your eyes and lean back against the cool metal wall, questioning every choice you made that led up to this point.
Din
It’s you. It’s really you sitting before him. What he’s yearned for for so long is finally before him. Yet he finds himself conflicted.
You don’t recognize him. You’re clearly afraid of him. The easiest solution would be to take off his helmet and reveal himself to you. But he just redeemed himself.
He feels stupid for getting conflicted. He’s wanted you for so long and now that you’re in the palm of his hand, he’s not going to go through with it? Besides, who’s to say that one day you won’t become his riduur? Surely, he could reveal his face to his future riduur? But now he’s getting a bit carried away.
It hurts to see you like this; scared and defeated. So without thinking, he lifts his helmet off his head. He expects a response but you’re still leaning back with your eyes closed. He sets the helmet on the ground and reaches forward, placing a gloved hand on your knee. You startle with a jolt, ready to say something but instead, your jaw hangs open, eyes wide with shock.
“…Din? Is that you?” you say with a shaky breath.
He reaches behind you, unlocking your cuffs and grabbing your hands, bringing them to your lap. He squeezes them and meets your gaze, telling you, “It’s me, ner vercopa.”
“H-How did you find me?”
He lets go of your hands to pull out your holopuck, along with Shoan’s.
“There’s a bounty on your head. Along with this guy. You two stole a ship on Naboo?”
You let out a sigh of relief and say, “It’s just for the ship on Naboo. I thought SoroSuub was coming after us.”
“I think we both have some explaining to do.”
He scooches his crate closer and returns his hands to yours, listening to every detail of your story; what life was like on Sullust, how you planned to escape, how Shoan was your unlikely accomplice. He feels a wave of relief wash over him when he learns that nothing is going on between you and Shoan. But also a pang of guilt. Here you are traveling across the galaxy with a man you can’t stand just for the chance to find him. Meanwhile, Din’s sleeping with prostitutes in brothels on his quest for you.
No. He’s not going to let that sour the moment.
As he watches you speak he tries not to compare you to how you are in the dream world. But it’s impossible.
Part of him was worried you wouldn’t compare, or that you’d even look different. But you’re far better than his wildest dreams could’ve imagined. You’re real and full of life, eyes sparkling when you talk about something you’re passionate about and mouth curving into a smile when you look upon his face. And Maker, your voice. He finds himself hanging on every word you say.
He gets up from his crate and sits beside you on yours, putting his arm around your shoulders. Sitting across from you wasn’t enough and now that you’re here he fears he’s going to have a hard time keeping his hands off you. You lean into him, finishing your story before turning your face towards his.
“What about you? What’s your story?”
“I’m a Mandalorian.”
“I didn’t know there were many left. I’ve only ever heard stories.”
“We were sort of scattered across the galaxy, living in the shadows. It’s all about to change soon.”
“I guess this explains what you meant when you said you don’t normally look like this. Do you wear that helmet all the time?”
“Pretty much.”
“Do you ever take it off?”
“Only when I’m alone.”
“But you just-”
“I know. It’ll be okay.”
“Have you taken it off in front of others before?”
“When Grogu was leaving to train with the Jedi.”
“The Jedi you mentioned before?”
“One of them.”
“So what do you do now?”
“I’ve been a bounty hunter for a long time. That’s how I found Grogu.”
“You sure you won’t get in trouble for this?” you ask, reaching your hand out and caressing his face. You brush your thumb along the hair on his jawline and his skin feels like it’s set aflame.
“Don’t worry, ner vercopa.”
He leans into you and kisses you, inhaling your scent and reveling in the way you feel. You’re already pressed up against each other but it’s not enough. He has to have you now. It’s not enough being side by side.
So he stands up, reaching his hand out to you. You take it and stand, letting him lead you to his bunk. You stand before each other, the air teeming with sexual tension.
“I’ve waited so long for this moment, ner vercopa,” he says suggestively, grabbing your waist.
“Me too, Din,” you say, fingers gravitating towards the hem of your shirt. You pull it off over your head while he takes off his gloves, tossing them on the floor. His hands caress the outline of your breasts, staring at them with wide eyes. You tilt your head and lean in for a kiss, running your hands through his hair because you know he loves it so much. For once the dream realm is no different than real life, considering the way he moans into the kiss, melting in your hands. He gently pushes you down on the bed and his hands slide down your waist, reaching for your pants. He pulls them off in one swift motion along with your underwear.
You prop yourself up on your elbows and watch as he crouches down to the floor, kneeling at the foot of the bunk. His hand runs up and down your inner thigh. It’s your first time doing this in real life but it feels just as natural as if you’ve done this hundreds of times before. He hooks his arms around your thighs, pausing to inhale the scent of your pussy before taking the first lick. You relax and settle into the bunk, already feeling yourself tremble under his touch. His tongue flicks around your clit before he latches his mouth to it, sucking harder and harder until you’re brought to the edge of orgasm already. Your back arches up off the bunk and he tightens his grip around your thighs to keep you in place, humming into your clit as you cum. The tension built up in your core releases and just as you expected it’s better here than in the dream realm.
He’s not quite finished with you yet, taking his index and middle finger and bringing them to his mouth. He moistens them before inserting his index finger inside you slowly. His tongue returns to your clit, working hard to bring you to your second orgasm. Your cheeks heat up and your moans take a higher pitch, jumping an octave when the middle finger slides inside you. He pushes his fingers against your g-spot in a come here motion as he sucks your clit again. He’s delirious, drunk on your scent and your taste, determined to make you cum. His eyes don’t leave you, studying the physical reactions of your pleasure; the way your chest heaves, your moans filling up the small space, your nipples perked up and stiff.
Like clockwork, he gets you to cum again. Your walls clench his fingers as you soak the lower half of his face. He doesn’t stop as you ride out your high, prolonging it further. He hums at your taste again before running his tongue up and down your cunt, lapping up the rest of your release. He pulls away and rests his head against your thigh, looking at you with all of the love and adoration in the galaxy.
“Just as sweet as I dreamed it would be.”
Your cheeks heat up at his praise while he rises from the floor. You inch up on the bed to make room for him and spread your thighs, letting him get settled there. He reaches a hand down and collects your spend, spreading it on his cock and giving it a few strokes. He rests on his elbows, placed by either side of your head before pushing into you slowly.
The eye contact is intense but it’s what you’ve both been yearning for for so long, to be face to face with one another, tangled in the sheets and each other’s limbs.
“Ni kar’tayl gar darasuum,” he murmurs.
“Mando’a?” you ask.
“Mhm,” he says, leaning in to kiss you deeply.
Before he can completely pull away you whisper it back, making him kiss you longer and harder. All while his pace thrusting in and out of you never falters. Your hands find his hair again and for a moment it’s hard to tell where you begin and end. Even then, you want to be even closer together. With one last slam of his hips into you, you cum around his cock, moaning and whimpering into the kiss. He pulls his head back, studying your face as you cum. And the sensation triggers his own. You’re filled with his cum as he orgasms, his head buried into the crook of your neck. You tug on his hair again and he sinks his teeth in your neck, moaning as he releases his spend inside you.
When you’re both done, he pulls out and lies beside you, reeling in the bliss of what just happened.
You
“I’m sorry for coming inside you,” he says.
“You said that the first time.”
“I know but this time it matters.”
“Shit, you’re right,” you chuckle.
“I’ll get you a pill. Don’t worry.”
“So where do we go from here? You’re not turning me in, are you?” you say, rolling over on your side to face him.
“Of course not. Don’t worry about Shoan either.”
“What happens to the bounty then?”
“I’ll just pay off whoever set it.”
“Thank you,” you say, grabbing his hand.
“Anything for you, ner vercopa,” he says, angling his head towards yours for a kiss.
He murmurs that he loves you again, always in Mando’a. But before you can respond, a loud beep comes from the cockpit followed by a woman’s voice.
“Din? Are you on your way back yet? We’re ready to head to Mandalore.”
He reluctantly gets out of the bunk, dragging himself to the cockpit. You sit up and put on your shirt, getting up to lean against the doorframe as you listen.
“On my way,” he lies.
The realization is settling in. You’re his and he’s yours. But the real world will never compare to the dream realm. In your dreams you were alone with no responsibilities, all the time in the world to focus on just each other. Here, you’re plagued with life and the shit that comes with it.
Din comes down from the cockpit and scrambles around you, gathering his helmet and his gloves while you stand there and stare off into space. Another wave of realization hits you.
It isn’t the same but it is enough.
The end
End note: Thank you all so much for reading! This has been such as fun series to write!! Thank you to @wannab-urs @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin @clawdee @pedgito and @sweetercalypso for listening to be ramble about this series/beta reading for me! I wouldn’t have been able to do this without yall 🤍
If you’d like to read more Din fics from me check out my Din masterlist and keep an eye out for my next series, Stonecatcher, coming in April! 🤍
Banners + dividers by @saradika-graphics
Art by Roger Mattos
WIAD Tag list: @wannab-urs @hyzer34 @milly-louise @hellfire-state-of-mind @dugiioh @handspunyarns @fckyeapedrothots99 @leithatnight @corazondebeskar @burntheedges @imherefordeanandbones @pamasaur @thepetitemandalorian @competitivedust @survivingandenduring @the-color-is-black @perennialdoll247 @littlegrungegirlaf @lupietra @bluebeary-jay @angstyvirgin001 @missladym1981 @alltheotps @lahooozaherr @that1nerd-20 @pedrostories @anoverwhelmingdin @djarins-cyare @kirsteng42 @dins-riduur-anthe @pigeonmama @babeincolor
#wiad#din djarin x reader#din djarin smut#din djarin x f!reader#din djarin fanfiction#din djarin x you#din djarin#the mandalorian#the mandalorian fanfiction#star wars fanfiction
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Footprints to the heart
Peter Parker X Male Reader
Request: Andrew Peter Parker x son of Wanda Male Reader (Wiccan powers obvi 🤭) Maybe Peter and reader already established relationship with them being married and maybe being at the stage where they feel like they are ready to take on kids so reader let’s his reality warping be the womb per say? Like NOT MALE PREG, but maybe him making like a sphere I guess and then putting him and peters dna into it and speeding up the whole 9 months waiting process and WALA A KID. now onto the actual request 😭
•
Love your work btw, keep up the good work, and don’t be afraid to take breaks if you need it 💞
Peter is happy being married to you and he enjoys every moment. You arrived home and you are working on your new suit, and he kissed you on the lips. You are sitting on the couch and he sits next to you.
“Hey, Y/n” Peter smiled.
“Hi,” You smiled.
“Y/n, I wanted to ask you something,” Peter said.
“What is it?” You asked.
“I think we are ready to have a baby, starting our family. I have been thinking about this for a while and I want us to be on the same page” Peter said
“Makes sense, why you have been acting strange. Do you think we are ready? Everything will change” You said.
“I’m sure of this and I want you to be honest with me. I think we are ready, yes I know everything will change but we will go through it together” Peter said.
Peter gently hold your hand.
“Let's start a family, Peter,” You said
“Really?!” Peter smiled.
“Yes, I mean it. I really see us having a kid or two together. I love you and I don't want to start a family with anyone else” You said.
Peter starts to kiss you.
“I love you too, Y/n,” Peter said.
You followed Peter to the guest room, he starts to talk about changing everything.
“Wait, but how we would have a baby?” Peter asked.
“Actually there is a spell for that,” You said.
“Wait, really?” Peter said.
“Yeah, there is. The spell will create a sphere and inside the baby will start to form, but typically it will be nine months. We can fast forward the months but it means, our time together would also fast forward” You said.
“Wow, I had no idea. And if we don't fast-forward forward then we wait day by day?” Peter said.
“Yes,” You said.
“Let’s do it, Y/n” Peter said.
“Okay, we will do it” You smiled.
You get your magic book, you show him the spell. You start to prepare the spell, then you start to say the words. Everything around starts to glow, then a sphere starts to appear. Then you put your DNA and his DNA in the sphere. And everything goes back to normal and Peter gets closer to the sphere, all he sees is magic floating around.
“It takes time for the baby to form,” You said.
“Oh... Wow, this is incredible” Peter said.
“Now, I'm going to fast forward nine months,” You said.
“Okay, Y/n. Are we going to remember stuff?” Peter said.
“Fifty-fifty. We will remember this part but everything else will be a blur” You said.
“Okay,” Peter said.
You start to chant the new spell, and it starts. Everything was changing rapidly including you and Peter.
----
9 Months Later... You and Peter have a baby boy. But you two are starting to have some issues, the baby doesn't sleep long during the night. You and Peter are losing sleep, the baby always needs a diaper change. You are feeding your son then he spits out the food, and it landed on your face and he starts to giggle.
“Gross. And it's not funny, Peter,” You said.
“It's a little bit funny. You made him laugh” Peter said.
He starts to clean his son's face and Peter cleans your face. You and Peter struggle to change the baby’s diaper because of the smell.
You try to make your son laugh, he does smile. He starts to cry and you start to freak out.
“I don't know why he is crying,” You said.
“We already fed him and change his diaper,” Peter said.
It was obvious that he wants to be carried, but you and Peter are overthinking it. Peter gives him a small toy but he doesn't want it, then he picked up his son. Peter gently starts to pat his back and he stops crying.
“Oh, good that worked” You sighed.
“Yeah,” Peter said.
Later, you and Peter go to the park as a family. You put a hat on your baby and he grabs your hand, then you gently touch his cheek and he smiled.
“I knew it would be a lot of work but experiencing, changes everything,” Peter said.
“I agree. Sometimes, I don't know why he cries most of the time” You said.
“Yeah, but it's worth it,” Peter said.
“It is,” You said.
✬ ✯ ✬ ✫
Your mom went to visit you and Peter. She is in shock that you two have a baby, and he is crying.
“Why is he crying?” Wanda asked.
“Hi, mom. I don't know we tried everything, we fed him and his diaper isn't dirty. We give him toys but he doesn't stop crying” You said.
“We don't know what to do,” Peter said.
“Let me try,” Wanda said.
She gently picked him up and starts to pat his back. He stopped crying and he burped.
“Babies, have to burp after they eat. Y/n, what is my grandson’s name?” Wanda said.
“Logan,” Peter said.
“Like the Wolverine?” Wanda asked.
“Yes, we named him after the Wolverine,” You said.
Wolverine saved you when you were a baby because Dr. Doom kidnapped you, and he helped Wanda to save you. Then he helped Wanda to raise you until you were a teenager.
Logan, snuggles on Wanda and she starts to smile. She starts to give tips on why babies cry a lot.
---
It's Halloween... You and Peter are feeling excited to experience Halloween as a family. Your mom is helping you put a Scooby-Doo costume on Logan. Then you get dressed as Shaggy and Peter is Fred and your mom is dressed as Velma. She couldn't help to take a family picture and you can't stop smiling. Peter did manage to get some candies for his son.
Wanda took pictures of you and Peter with the baby by a funny scarecrow. Then you three went to a gift shop and Wanda couldn't help herself buying cute baby Halloween merchandise.
“Mom, I think he has enough gifts,” You said.
“I think you are wrong, Y/n” Wanda smiled.
She continued to pick more items for the baby.
“I don't think anything will change her mind,” Peter said.
“Yeah, I'm not going to argue with her,” You said.
You and Peter just watched her shop for a while. After a while of being outside and you go home. Wanda couldn't help to laugh when you and Peter struggled to change Logan’s diaper.
✬ ✯ ✬ ✫
Your mom is setting up the board game Monopoly in the living room. Everyone sits down and the game starts, and Logan is sitting on Peter’s lap. Logan tried to eat the small pieces, Peter tries to pull them away but Logan won't let go.
“For a small baby, where does he get the strength?” Peter asked.
Wanda used her magic so that your son would let go of the piece.
“When Y/n was a baby he was like that trying to put everything in his mouth. I always had it use magic to stop him” Wanda said.
“Mom, I wasn't like that,” You said.
Peter starts to giggle.
“You were such a cute baby” Wanda smiled.
It's your turn, you start to play then Little Logan grabbed the fake money from your hand. He puts it in his mouth then you took it away from him. Wanda went to grab the snacks and nobody won the game, because Logan kept trying to grab the pieces.
You were reading a book to Logan, but you fell asleep. He starts to grab the book, then Wanda and Peter noticed you sleeping. Peter and Wanda took a picture of you asleep, then she picked up her grandson.
----
Peter took you out to the movie theater, but you and Peter started to make out. Before going home, you and Peter went to grab an ice cream.
“I got a text from my mom,” You said.
“What did she send?” Peter asked.
It's a picture of her and Logan, wearing matching shirts and he is smiling
“That is cute” Peter smiled.
“Yeah. My mom asked me how we will feel if she moved in with us” You said.
“Oh? How do you feel about that” Peter said.
“She has been feeling lonely. After what happened with Doctor Strange, I think she wants to be with us. We don't talk about it, so I don't ask questions” You said.
“I will be fine with it, only if you want her to move in with us. Plus, she has been a big help with our son, Y/n” Peter said.
While sitting next to each other, he put his hand on your knee. You and Peter continued to talk about it. After a while of talking about it, He kissed you then you two go home.
#peter parker fanfic#peter parker x male reader#peter parker x reader#peter parker imagine#spiderman x reader#spiderman x male reader#x male reader#male!reader#male reader#flufftober
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I'm having a déjà-vu that I've already posted about Yuuri's inner monologue at the beginning of episode 3 when he agonises about the stakes the Onsen on Ice has for him, but it's so hilarious that I need to pick it up again.
What cracks me up is that right after explaining that Viktor will return to Russia if Yurio wins, Yuuri goes like, "If I win, Viktor will stay in Japan and be my coach." But Yuuri doesn't think of Viktor skating in Ice Castle or accompanying him during his workout—no, he thinks of Viktor flirting with him on his first night in Hasetsu.
Yes, you've read that right: While Yuuri explains what is at stake for him at the Onsen on Ice, he thinks of Viktor flirting with him.
Note also the warm colours and the blurred lines of the image that add an atmosphere of nostalgia to the scene, like a memory Yuuri holds dear...
...compared to the actual scene in episode 2:
Seems like Yuuri isn't that opposed to Viktor's courtship endeavours, right?
Which leads me to the question: Is there anything else Yuuri wants Viktor to teach him except figure skating?
At this point, Yuuri is far from understanding sexual desire (that will come along with the discovery his Eros over the course of the story). He is also still far from being romantically interested in Viktor. To him, Viktor is a god-like creature he admires and has a crush on since he was 12, an fellow skater Yuuri copied over and over because he secretly craves to become his equal. And that is absolutely enough to be flustered when Viktor becomes flirty, even if the poor boy has no idea how to respond. (for clarification: crush, i.e. superficial fancy ≠ being in love, i.e. butterflies, wanting to date the other person, I had people trying to split hairs over this, no kidding)
Yuuri has been obsessed with Viktor throughout puberty and his entire adult life. That's long enough to have a whole library of fanboy fantasies in his brain. I believe that Viktor becoming his coach is a dream that formed in Yuuri long before the fateful banquet where he made Viktor crush on him. And what would be a better way to catch up to your idol than having said idol teach you? Where this fantasy is, there are bound to be others. After all, fantasies are a safe space, untethered from reality in the sense that the unhinged things Yuuri and Viktor would do in these are entirely decoupled from the things Yuuri would want from the real Viktor at some point in his existence because that fictional Viktor would be an abstract entity to project his fantasies upon, an ooc version of the real Viktor, and the fictional Yuuri would be an ooc version of the real Yuuri (I'm no longer talking about coaching figure skating. I'm talking about "Viktor-sensei, please teach me how to kiss!", or maybe even "Viktor-sensei, I want to do unspeakable things to you, please teach me how!", depending on how you headcanon Yuuri to act when he gets horny)
Yuuri's desire to emulate Viktor (and not necessarily being able to tell this apart from have Viktor around—yes, these two can be intertwined, and there are many hints in YOI that this is the case for Viktuuri), describes a characteristic of same-sex relationships that are depicted in other pieces of media, e.g. Bourne's Swan Lake or the novel Call Me By Your Name by André Aciman (I'd like to point you to that wonderful quote from this book).
I've digressed. My point is that Yuuri has still a long way to go until he figures out his feelings for Viktor. But this scene strongly suggests that he wants more from Viktor than keep on winning and keep on eating katsudon together, even though he might not yet be aware of the full extent of his wish.
If you enjoy my meta posts, please consider giving my blog a follow or checking out my works on AO3 (link in bio). You will find the results of my meta musings in there!
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What I love about the Goncharov meme is how willing most of us are to break kayfabe, because - on the surface level, it's kind, it gives people the opportunity to opt out if this just isn't good for them, and tells people - the secret is that there is no secret, that's the joke, hop right in with a "yes, and"; all are welcome. It's likely to confuse future media historians regardless.
But as someone who really enjoyed House of Leaves I also love it on a meta level because, we are essentially creating a spiritual adaptation of that book, blurring the line between meme and ARG...all based on a pair of shoes. It begs the question, then, what level of this layered narrative are we on, exactly?
I'm not the first person to compare Goncharov to The Navidson Record and I know I won't be the last. It's a very easy, obvious comparison to make - this legendary piece of lost media that everyone has an opinion on, but no one can confirm it's even real? Yeah, at this point in tumblr's collective consciousness, Goncharov is very much like that - the only difference being, we're on the same page and can agree that it's not real and never was.
Except we will place ourselves into a narrative such that it is real. It's an unspoken rule that even if you break kayfabe in other posts, even if you tag your Goncharov posts as "unreality" for accessibility (as you should, especially your original posts), you don't add to a Goncharov meta post, or fanfic, or fanart, in such a way as to even insinuate that Goncharov may not be a real movie. In this layer, that makes you the fool, the uncultured swine. Everyone's seen Goncharov! What do you mean you haven't even heard of it!? What do you mean you doubt it exists!? What rock have you been living under!? If someone earnestly asks what it is, it is to be answered elsewhere - in DMs, in an ask, over Discord, maybe in the replies, but not as an addition to the post that exists "in that reality".
There are a few things we tend to agree upon about Goncharov:
It is a work of fiction. The events of the movie did not occur in the universe - the narrative layer - where we discuss it as a real film.
As stated on the shoe label that created the meme, it is a film directed by Martin Scorsese, written by someone named Matteo JWHJ 0715 (sometimes also written as Matteo JWHJ0715 or Matteo jwhj0715), and it is a mafia movie - namely, it carries the lofty claim of being "The Greatest Mafia Movie Ever Made."
It is about the relationship between Russian and Italian mafia families, set in Naples.
This movie poster is the basis of the canon; the characters listed on it exist and are portrayed by the actors listed.
There is an additional character, Sofia, whose reasons for being omitted from the poster are unknown.
Katya and Goncharov are married; this likely at least started as merely a marriage of convenience, but the full nature of their relationship is hotly debated in a way that highlights many common views of tumblr shipping culture¹.
Katya eventually betrays Goncharov, leading to his death at the end of the film.
There is significant homoerotic subtext between Andrey/Goncharov and Katya/Sofia, much of which plays into the film's themes; however, contrary to the impressions often given by tumblr's fandom culture, it is all subtextual, and while the relationships between Andrey, Goncharov, Katya, and Sofia can be read as significant drivers of the plot, they are far from being the central focus of the story.
Clocks are a major recurring visual symbol.
There is a pivotal "boat scene".
Most other details, however, are left to whoever is currently "analyzing" it. For instance, while many on Archive Of Our Own agree that the character of "Ice Pick Joe" definitely died in the end, with "no beta we die like Ice Pick Joe" being a popular tag for Goncharov fanfiction, at least one early tumblr post implies that the character's fate is undetermined.
The Goncharov meme is simultaneously a love letter to tumblr's fan culture, and a scathing critique thereof², but one of the most underappreciated fascinating things about it is that it forms a nested narrative.
On the innermost layer, we have the unreachable - the film itself. No one has seen it. No one ever will. We're all just trying to imagine it from the shadows on the cave wall. Maybe one day we'll create it, but it will still never truly be the original 1973 film we're all writing about. Making it even harder to recreate and make "real", the mythology includes alternate cuts and regional edits to reconcile the plot points written by different users that undeniably contradict each other.
On the next layer outward, we have the posts about the film. The deep meta. The fanart. The fanfiction. The content "from another universe" where Goncharov is a real classic film that everyone has seen. The layer where we don't break kayfabe. This is a layer we can see the reality of, and contribute to, but never truly live in - it is an imaginary construct. Or is it? The film we're writing about may not exist, but the story we're weaving together from these roleplay writing exercises is somewhat coherent, and the thousands upon thousands of words of meta and fanfiction we write about it are real; one could make a compelling argument that even if Goncharov the film does not exist, the Goncharov fandom is a real fandom. This layer is one foot in the real world, and one foot in a fictional one.
On the next layer, we have the posts about the meme. This can be definitively stated to be real, with no caveats. Posts that discuss how the meme reflects on fan culture, about the self-referential nature of the meme, about the little aspects of online fandom culture it plays with. This is the first layer that can fully be said to be rooted exclusively in the real world.
But even on a layer beyond that, we have posts such as this one, discussing the discussion of the fandom for the fake film - and on yet another layer beyond that (or is it the same one?), we have the future speculation. We have guesses as to what future historians will think of this phenomenon. We have discussions of the precarious and transient nature of information online, questions about what parts of this meme will be archived and which ones will disappear. Will there be historians desperately searching for this alleged lost classic in 50 years? Will it be assumed that the shoes that started the meme were actually a piece of promotional merchandise for a real classic film?
You may notice, then, that the innermost layers are discrete, but once you get into the layers that exist in our reality, they become markedly less so.
This model gives us a structure that can be visualized somewhat like this:
[Image ID: a diagram of 5 concentric circles. The centermost circle is colored in dark red with a thick black outline and labeled "Goncharov (1973 film) - fictional, unreachable, unviewable". The next circle outward is colored in pink, with a thinner black outline, and is labeled "Goncharov fan discussion". The next circle is colored in light gold, with a black outline that blurs into the next circle, labeled "Discussion of the Goncharov fan discussion". The next layer is colored in light green, with a dark outline blurred so thoroughly that its only purpose is to provide some visual contrast for clarity of labeling, labeled "Discussion of all previous layers; note the blurring of the line between this layer and the previous". Finally, the outermost layer is colored in light blue, with a solid black outline, labeled "Speculation about the future's view of the Goncharov meme, including roleplay as lost media enthusiasts and media studies professors 50-100 years in the future". End ID.]
In fact, there are several rules the Goncharov meme has come to follow:
As stated above, any given post is constrained to its narrative layer, to the extent that those layers are discrete. Posts about Goncharov as a real film are not to have additions that break kayfabe. Similarly, posts about Goncharov as a meme are not to have anyone insist the film is real. This may be subject to change as the meme evolves, but it is the rule as of the time of this writing.
You may not add to a post to contradict a claim about the factual nature of what happened on screen, even if it directly contradicts a previous post of yours³. You are, however, encouraged to dispute its implications and get creative to try and reconcile the contradictions. The only exception is in the form of responding to a meme with another extant meme format (e.g., "I get what you're going for OP but x very much did y")
Posts about Goncharov the film are to be treated exactly the same way you would post about a real piece of media. Analysis is to be taken seriously, using real analytical frameworks and devices. Memes are to use real formats. Fanart and fanfiction are to have just as much effort put into their crafting as you would give any real piece of media.
Complaining about bad readings that do not exist, but you imagine someone might make, is encouraged.
You cannot break these rules. Not "you may not", but "you cannot". It is not possible. You can try. You will fail. Your posts breaking these rules will never gain traction, or if they do, they will do so only after being added to in order to make it fit them. The narrative is hungry. You cannot engage it without being absorbed into it. Your only escape is to walk away and not look back⁴.
In other words, the Goncharov meme is not just a meditation on fan culture, but a demonstration and discussion of the intricacy of the relationship between fiction and reality.
House of Leaves is beloved for its complex nested narrative, and again, the comparison is a common one. However, there is a subtle and potentially unsettling difference - House of Leaves did not include its author or its readers nearly as thoroughly as the Goncharov meme does. House of Leaves was written from outside the narrative; the legend of Goncharov is being written from within.
Every single person who blogs about Goncharov makes themself into a character in this story.
The narrative layers in House of Leaves bleed into each other to give a sense of mystery as to what is real and what is not in the universe(s) of the novel. The narrative layers in the Goncharov mythos bleed into each other because we traverse them freely - from the fictional reviews and retellings and analysis, to the semi-fictional drawing of comparisons to real media and the use of this nonexistent movie as a low-stakes vehicle to lightheartedly air one's real complaints with fan culture, to the fully-grounded discussion of Goncharov's impact as a meme, to the philosophical discussion of its multi-layered nature, to the once-again-fictional speculation of how it will be viewed in the future - the same person can visit any of these layers.
But their impact will always be bound by each layer's internal rules, because building a legend - a narrative - will not allow for anything else.
Goncharov does not exist. Goncharov is a narrative labyrinth that contains us all. YOU CANNOT ESCAPE ITS NARRATIVE.
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1. Tumblr shipping culture is as much of a microcosm of queer studies as it is of media analysis. It, like the Goncharov meme, operates on a minimum of two levels: the level of analyzing a story for potential queer readings, namely in the form of romantic relationships, and opportunities for transformative work; and the level of sociopolitical discussion of queer issues and stereotypes, and how they are reflected in media and the discussion thereof; the latter, particularly, in the form of intracommunity disputes and lateral aggression. For example, the dispute over the nature of Goncharov and Katya's marriage and its level of sincerity is implied in some posts to occasionally cross the line into bisexual erasure. While at the time of the Goncharov meme's emergence in 2022, the discourse within this subculture is much more civil than it once was, it is still very much an environment that stands as a constant reminder that there is no such thing as a truly apolitical space.
Of course, most everyone on this website knows that by now, right?
2. This meme comes at a time when a lot of us are terrified of going back to the way things used to be in tumblr fan discourse. We all joke about the Hamilton HIV fanfic catfish, or The JohnLock Conspiracy, or any number of other major scandals now that they're over; they are hilarious in hindsight, but it's all too easy to lose track of the fact that the human toll at the time was real. DashCon is a joke to most, but I've personally met more than one well-meaning volunteer who ended up with PTSD from dealing with attendees who thought even the volunteers were in on an intentional scam. We laugh at the absurdity of the incident known as Boneghazi, but it doesn't take away the fact that there are still people in Louisiana wondering if their relatives were the ones whose bones were stolen and offered up for sale online - though that one was only tangentially related to fandom, it's from the same broad sitewide culture. People have been stalked, harassed, doxxed, psychologically abused to the point of hospitalization and even suicide, there are even rumors of assaults over disagreements about which show is better, or which fictional characters have the best relationships. It's all petty, all funny in hindsight - but the human toll is real.
I got caught in an incident myself once*, before the porn ban. There was one guy, they and some real life friends of theirs got into my circle of friends in a roleplay community in the ■■■■■■■ fandom. They seemed nice enough. Normal enough. We had a few good chats. They played the same character I did, among a few others. Had a fun little concept we were throwing back and forth to start a thread with the doubled character. Accidental cloning due to a computer error, it was going to be.
Everything fell apart when a new ■■■■■■■ ■■■■■■ dropped. It gave us a nice scene of the most popular "ship" in the fandom - one that had been teased since day 1, and of course when it got attention the company wanted to milk it for all it was worth. This guy originally seemed cool with the ship, even though they didn't like it much; they preferred to pair one of the characters off with their self-insert OC. It was all a peaceful difference of opinion for a while, but after this ■■■■■■ dropped and people were excited about the scene, they went berserk. My then-boyfriend's ex started getting anonymous messages imitating him. My inbox started filling up with threats. Some of my more casual acquaintances started confronting me over threats they thought I sent. Meanwhile, this guy was melting down on main about how everyone had "betrayed" them. I found myself blocked by our mutual friends who this guy knew in real life - it turned out, because they were telling them that I was sending them hate and threats. "Someone" tried to convince my then-boyfriend to doxx someone adjacent to the circle for "abuse". I started getting hate messages that hit some of my deepest insecurities and almost ■■■ ■■ ■■ ■■■■■■ - the only reason I ended up okay was because I figured it out, because I realized this guy was the one doing all of it, and they were mining for ammo from our mutual friends.
All of this because a bunch of people, mostly strangers, were happy about the ■■■■■■. Because of a fictional relationship. Their fixation on me was just because we played the same character but liked different ships, and I was a little more known in the fandom. This wasn't even on a website where people could see follower counts, it was right here on tumblr, so they had to be pretty obsessive to figure that out in the first place.
Eventually the friends they lied about me to caught on and left them, but not before they stole a bunch of said friends' stuff. Last I checked on them, it was 2 years since the incident, and they were still melting down on main about how anyone who liked that ship was evil. By that point they had convinced themself that the entire fandom for that ship was a campaign to harass and persecute them personally; that there was no other reason to like it.
The last thing I head about them was that they had stabbed a family member over this and some other personal drama and gotten banned from Twitter and a few conventions for making violent threats toward artists and cosplayers. I don't dare look back anymore.
*Editors' note: Some details have been altered or redacted to protect the ignorant.
3. Ironically, this is one of the few tells that Goncharov is not an extant piece of media. In fandoms for real media, it is fairly common for details to be misremembered and corrections to be made.
4. "Don't look back", of course, is easier said than done. We must recall the myth of Orpheus and Eurydice. Orpheus, despondent at the loss of his love, arranged to be allowed into the underworld to bring her back to life, but there was one condition; one tiny, seemingly simple condition - he must not look at her until they were both back in the light. If he did, she would be dragged back and lost forever; he would not get a second chance.
Like many myths, the details vary from telling to retelling. Some say that she was never made aware of the rule and cried out in terror as her husband refused to look at her, and almost instinctively he turned to comfort her. Some say that he fell victim to almost a form of muscle memory in mid-ascent when he turned to make sure she was okay. Some say that his desire to see her again sooner rather than later was just too strong and outweighed his resolve and common sense screaming for him to hold to the condition. Some say that he turned as soon as he was in the light, blissfully unaware until it was too late that she was still in the dark.
Whatever the reason, Orpheus looked back.
There is no version of the story where he succeeded in not looking back. The narrative will not let him not look back. The myth has no room for an Orpheus who is successful.
He cannot escape the myth.
He cannot escape the narrative.
Orpheus will always look back.
#goncharov#unreality#heavier unreality warning than your typical goncharov post#i freaked myself out with this#so if you like horror about the nature of narrative please read this and make it worth it!#house of leaves#memeology#internet culture#astral originals
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Ruins
WARNING! WARNING! WARNING!
If you have any sort of triggers regarding SA or have PTSD DO NOT READ.
I went through something a few years ago and I’ve been plagued with it a lot recently and so I tried to write it out to relieve my PTSD.
Your skin felt grimy.
Bile was in your throat threatening to spill from your mouth.
Your heart lies within your stomach in pieces.
The trip home from the solo mission was full of you not facing the reality of the situation. What they did. Even at the thought of them, the tears sting your eyes and your chest is tight and all of a sudden you can feel every single forced touch.
You rushed to your room as soon as your jet landed, disarming and stripping yourself of your blood soaked clothes. You’re numb as you subconsciously drag yourself into the bathroom and turn on the tub to watch the hot water rise. Sinking into it, you feel your muscles relax but your insides are still a mess. Your eyes travel to your skin and it’s like their fingerprints are everywhere painting your skin.
next thing you know your skin is red and raw and you’re holding the loofah. you shudder as tears stream down your face silently.
you find your face in the mirror in front of you, a stranger stares right back.
Days blend together as you find yourself staying in your room rather than visiting with the team but you can’t seem to care if they noticed. You couldn’t find yourself caring about anything lately really. Steve noticed this and took you off missions to see if he could maybe get a reaction out of you. To his dismay, you simply shrugged and retreated right back to your room. Him and Nat shared concerned glances with each other and Bucky stared after you with concern. You hadn’t spoken much about the mission, just simply handed them the drive and muttered, “mission complete”.
The break from missions gave you even more time to fall deeper into the hole you were digging yourself and you were too tired to stop yourself. You were a stranger to yourself and now your friends. The eyes in the mirror were not your own, but the pain they held was all that was left of you. Your knives stayed in their sheaths, your books in the shelf, your pen and journal in their drawer. A ghost has began to reside where you once did as more and more of yourself died.
How many days had passed? was it weeks? you weren’t sure. it was all a blur as you walked mindlessly through the tower. Eyes fell upon you and you knew they were curious but you couldn’t open your mouth to explain why.
you weren’t ready yet.
would you ever be?
You’re making yourself coffee when he says your name.
“Y/n.” Steve says sternly.
Your grip tightens on your mug but you do not turn. “Yes Steve?”
“what is going on with you lately? what’s wrong with you?” He asks and you know he’s frustrated. You have to remind yourself he doesn’t know.
“i’m fine.” you simply reply and give your signature shrug.
This however made steve MAD.
“Fine?! You were barely training, your missions became sloppy, you haven’t been talking to any of your teammates! You could have gotten yourself or any one of us killed on those missions if you had gone, you weren’t even trying at training!”
you know he wants a rise out of you. you know he wants you to show that you care but you’re so numb that you simply stand their and take his rant. He was right. Nat is staring at you worried from the couch and Bucky finds himself gravitating towards you to comfort you.
“Seriously y/n, do you not even care? about us? about being an avenger? Maybe we made a mistake making you one of us. Maybe you don’t belong here.” Steve seethes.
The last straw inside you breaks.
“I was FUCKING RAPED STEVE! Is that what you wanted to hear?!” You explode and he stares at you in shock, eyes wide. “Did you want me to tell you how they forced themselves upon me and i can’t get the disgusting feeling of their hands off my skin? or how they cut my skin if I tried to fight back? Or maybe you wanted to hear how they loved when I screamed in pain until I was sobbing? Or MAYBE you wanted me to tell you how i can’t even fucking look in the mirror anymore without seeing how utterly broken I am. Is that it? is that enough of a fucking reaction that you wanted out of me?” Your chest is heaving and your cheeks are wet with tears, the room silent after your outburst.
It’s then you realize just how many people now know happened to you. You quickly turn to run out of the room, only to slam into Bucky.
“Doll i’m so-“he begins.
“just leave me ALONE!” you yell and let your feet carry you to your room where you immediately shut and lock the door before screaming your lungs out.
The truth was out. they knew how dirty you were. How disgraced and disgusting you felt. Broken. Useless.
Your scream echoed so loud you’re sure the whole compound could hear it.
There’s a knock at your door and you freeze. No no no, you weren’t ready for this yet. The pity was not something you wanted to experience right now.
“Y/N, it’s me, Nat.” Her voice travels through the door, “I know you might not want to talk to us but I just want you to listen to me for a little bit okay? can I come in?”
Your brain screamed at you to not let her in. Solitude will heal, it yelled. Nobody wants to hear about what happened. What were you supposed to say anyways? How weak you were? You couldn’t hear anyone tell you how this was your fault…it would surely break whatever you had left. You cover your mouth as a sob escapes your mouth and your heart clenches in pain.
“I can’t. I can’t.”
You hope she hears the whimpers because you can’t find it in you to speak anymore. Sinking down to the floor you let silent tears stream down your cheeks as you heard her steps take her body away from your door. You hated that you were pushing away your best friend but you couldn’t let anyone near you, get close to you. Not yet.
Two days later another knock at the door.
“Go away, please…” you call.
“Y/n? It’s Dr. Cho…I need to examine you, if that’s okay. I want to make sure you don’t have any lasting injuries from…the incident. It’s just me.”
You squeeze your eyes shut and take a deep breath before dragging yourself to your door and opening it a crack. “You promise you’re alone?”
Helen nods with a warm small smile and you step to the side and open the door more to let her in, closing the door and locking it after she passes you.
She sets her medical back on your chair and looks around to see the best place to examine you and you’re suddenly aware your room was a catastrophe. You hang your head in embarrassment and apologize quickly, “I’m sorry for the mess Helen…it’s been a rough few days.”
She shakes her head and reassures you, “It’s okay, how about we clear off a space on the bed and set up there?”
You simply nod and quickly strip the bed of the excess mess so Helen can lay out what she needed. She softly tells you to strip down from the waist down, not trying to upset you. Your hands shakily strip and take the sheet from the doctor hands that she offers you.
“Just lay back and relax okay? I will be as quick as I can.”
You nod and close your eyes as she begins the exam, tears silently starting to leak out as you realize she is going to know the full extent of what happened. The damage. Ten minutes later she hands you your bottoms back and writes a few things down before facing you again. Her eyes were sad as she grabbed your hand.
“I am so sorry that this happened to you, y/n. I can’t imagine what you’re going through. I’m going to leave a card for a really great therapist, okay? Use it only when you’re ready.”
I nod at her words, unable to find enough air in my lungs to form words. Her caring words just made you want to cry more, made it more real. You find yourself staring into space as her figure disappears and you hear your door close. Mumbled voices on the other side of the door, one you recognized distinctly as bucky.
“Please Helen, how is she? Can I see her?” He begs.
Helen shakes her head. “No, I’m afraid you can’t Sergeant Barnes. She needs space and time to heal, and to be frank…I don’t think she wants any…male attention right now.”
Turning her head to Tony who stood a few feet away with his eyes glued to the floor and hands in his pocket. “Tony, can I speak to you and Dr. Banner alone?”
Tony simply nods and sends a quick text to Bruce to let him know to meet them in his office. Once gathered, Helen shut the door, locked it, and turned to the two men. Before she could speak Tony interrupts, “before you start… I think it’s best Nat be in attendance. If this is about y/n, then another woman should be present so she can be more helpful.”
Helen nods and unlocks the door, opening it to see Nat already standing there. Giving here a sad subtle smile, Nat walks In and Helen locks the door once again. Now facing the three she took a deep breath and closed her eyes as she spoke, “After further examination of Agent (y/l/n), it’s come to my attention that her injuries were far more severe than I thought.”
“How bad?” Nat asks shakily.
When Helen’s eyes open, they’re full of tears. “I don’t want to go into exact details but the damage done was significantly extensive. The scarring is…immense. I could potentially help heal with the cradle but she is no where near ready for that. I’m afraid her mind is what took the most damage. I left her Doctor Raynors card for her but I’m not sure when or if she’s going to be up to it.”
Tony sighs and let’s his face fall into his hands. “So what do we do now?”
“Now you just let her know you’re there and wait for her to be ready. Dr. Banner you should run routine check ups on her, her nutrition is below what I would like for her. Agent Romanoff can help you with that,” She turned to face Nat, “You’re one of the only women here so you are going to be better at getting close to her than anyone else. She’s going to need you.”
Nat nods as tears slowly paint her cheeks and nails dig into her palms. Bruce places a hand on her back in comfort while he tries to keep his own cool.
After Helen leaves and it’s just the three remaining, a angsty silence fills the room. They knew this wasn’t going to be easy, but their hurting hearts wanted to save you from the abyss that was swallowing you whole.
One week passed.
Nat knocked every day, no answer. Friday ran a health check as best she could. Bucky slept on the floor just outside your door just in case you needed him.
Two weeks passed.
Nat knocked every day, no answer. Friday kept running health checks as best she could. Buckys back was feeling it from the sleeping on the floor. But it was worth it if you might need him. Even if you hadn’t called for him.
The third week came.
Nat knocked every day.
It was a Wednesday when you finally opened the door. Nat had to keep her face from falling at the sight of you. Face pale, eyes dead with bags under them from no sleep, and she could tell you had lost weight in an alarming way.
Smiling weakly you say, “Hey Nat. Come in.”
You open the door wider and step to the side to let her past. As you do your eyes find bucky on the floor and your heart aches but you can’t bring yourself to call to him. Not yet.
Closing the door behind you, you sigh and turn to face her. “I know it probably is a mess in here for you and I look terrible I really apologize.”
Nats voice trembles as she asks, “can I hug you? Is that okay?”
Your face pales even more but you nod with a gulp and the next thing you knew the redheads arms were encasing your frame.
“Don’t ever apologize for anything, okay? If anything I’m sorry you had to go through all of it. I know you know that I understand what you went through more than anyone else here. So I want you to know that I’m here throughout it all, okay? You aren’t alone in this. You never have to be alone again.” Her tears are wetting your shirt as she speaks just like you know you’re now wetting hers.
Sobs wrack your body as you cling to your best friend for dear life. “No matter what I do I keep seeing it. Feeling it. I can’t escape it! I feel their touches like they were burned into my skin and it makes me sick…and scared. I wasn’t strong enough to stop them, they kept telling me I was weak over and over. And you know what? They’re right. I couldn’t protect myself. What good am I to the team at that point?”
Her arms grip you tighter at your words, holding your shaking body as the sobs kept coming before leaning back to be able to grab your face to force you to meet her eyes. “You are the best teammate we have, do you understand me? This is not your fault and it doesn’t say anything about who you are or what you can do. This does not define you. Ask anyone, y/n, they will tell you that you’re the most kind, skilled, and strongest agent we have. They were the weak ones, not you. Do not forget that…Please don’t forget that.”
You simply close your eyes as more tears cascade down your now rosy cheeks. “I just don’t know what I did to deserve this. I keep asking myself why over and over and I just…I can’t.”
“Some people are just evil. The world unfortunately holds some truly vile people who want to steal your light. But you can’t let them win. And if you need any help keeping that light alive then please do not hesitate to come to me or anyone here. Please.” Nats begging at this point and you can’t help but sob more at your incredibly supportive friend. You were so grateful, the shame you felt melting away as you finally had someone who understood and supported you in a way none else ever could.
“I love you, Nat. You really are my best friend.” You sniffle as you admit with a small smile. It felt good to smile for once.
“I love you too, kid. You already know you’re my best friend too,” Nat admits with a matching smile before continuing, “I just have to ask though…you do have a massive super soldier sleeping outside of your room the past few weeks that has been worried sick…are you ready to see him? If not it’s okay and I’ll tell him. We don’t want you to be uncomfortable.”
At the mention of bucky your heart squeezed tightly and you swear you almost lose all the air in your lungs. You hadn’t had even processed that yet! How he would react was your biggest concern. Would he hate you? Would he be disgusted? Would he break up with you?
Sensing your distress Nats eyes go wide as she exclaimed, “it’s okay! I’ll tell him no. Y/n I swear it’s okay.”
You shook your head despite the anxiety that had consumed you. “No, no I need to talk to him. It’s okay. Please send him in.”
She nods and replies, “okay , just holler if you change your mind okay?”
You nod and watch as she walks to the door and steps out. A bunch of murmurs before your hear him loudly get up quickly and rush into the doorway of your room.
You stood with your arms around your torso in attempt to hold yourself together as you felt his gaze go over you. Eyes glued to the ground, your breaths were ragged as the silence plagued the air.
“Doll…”Bucky calls out, his voice heavy with emotion but raspy from sleep.
At the sound of his voice you break into a whole new level of sobs. Rushing to your side he reaches out and almost touches your skin, but instantly realizes before yanking them back.
Your brain automatically channels this as him being disgusted by you which fuels your sobs even more. “I’m so sorry,” you cry out, “I’m so fucking sorry. You think I’m revolting.”
What? Bucky thinks to himself. He couldn’t believe those words left your mouth. Tears pooled in his eyes and he let out a ragged breath before saying, “please don’t say that, doll. You have no reason to be sorry. This isn’t your fault. Do you hear me?” He takes a careful step closer to you to bring himself within arms distance between you. “This isn’t your fault. It never has been.”
Your arms wrap tighter around your torso like you’re trying to keep the pieces together and to prevent him from seeing that if you let go, you’d fall to pieces all over the hardwood floor beneath your feet. Your chest is tight as you try to contain your sobs but they continue to rip you apart piece by piece. “They ruined me for you, bucky. I can’t…you won’t want me anymore.” You cry.
His tears are now waterfalls upon his cheeks as his heart is being torn to shreds at your words. “No, no, no… please don’t talk like that. I will never not want you…can I…can I hold you?”
You’re unsure but find yourself nodding. It was difficult at first but as his arms wrapped around you and held you close it felt like glue was being poured within your cracks and your wounds were temporarily numbed.
“You are the most important thing in my life. Compared to you, the missions, the job, heck even the world are nothing. Meaningless to me because if I didnt have you I can promise you I would be the most miserable man in the universe. What happened to you was traumatic and terrible and I am so incredibly sorry I wasn’t able to protect you this time. But that doesn’t make you any less beautiful, any less amazing, any less perfect to me…” leaning back, he put a finger underneath your Chin to raise your eyes to his, “I love you and I will love you forever, through every timeline that exists. It will always be you. So please understand that no matter what happens, you are my person and I’m here for it all. The bad, the good, the ugly. I promise I will be here to help you through this is the ways that I can and give you whatever space you need when you need it.”
His words found home in you as your arms released your middle and inch by inch encircled his before squeezing him tight. No words were spoken for a while as you simply held each other and cried.
A while later you both sat on the floor by your bed side by side in silence. It was comforting and simply something you didn’t know you needed from him until now.
Turning your head to him you say , “I’ve been told we are going to share the same therapist these days.”
Bucky turned his head to look at you and smiles, “I’m glad you’re taking up the offer. I’m proud of you. She might be a pain in the ass for you though.”
You raise your eyebrow, “more than you?”
Bucky rolls his eyes and wraps an arm around your shoulder to pull you close. “I’ll take being a pain in your ass any day. My favorite job.”
You shake your head with a small smile. You didn’t know how you were going to heal from this but you know that between Nat, Bucky, and the others…you would get there one day. You weren’t alone.
#marvel imagine#marvel fanfiction#bucky barnes imagine#avengers imagine#bucky barnes x reader#james bucky barnes#marvel fic#steve rogers imagine#bucky barns imagine#avengers fanfiction#buckynat#bucky imagine#james bucky buchanan barnes#bucky x reader#bucky x female reader#bucky fanfic#bucky fic#bucky angst#bucky masterlist
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I’d like to think Simon’s first ‘girlfriend’ was purely on accident.
Ink stained fingers, scratched up beaten palms - he has his hands around a paperback book he had been eyeing for weeks now. He’s not one to steal, he knows from his right and his wrongs - Simon doesn’t see anything wrong with sitting idly on the stairs of an empty hallway, nose in the dusty pages.
It’s his retreat. From the world, from his classmates, from home. Letting his blackened eyes skim over the words slowly, the worlds and wonders of sci-fi alien ships and snotty romances blurring his reality for only a few hours. Maybe it was a bit sad - he didn’t want to go out and kick the ball around for lunch, instead he wanted to draw his knees into his chest and read the rest of this Dickens paperback. Peace and quiet.
It’s not until a girlish, skittish voice echoes from the top of the stairs. Simon’s always been someone on high alert, having to live life on ‘fight or flight’ mode. His shoulders tense, head peering up, tightening his hold on the pages. A girl. Simon scrunched his nose up. Most of the girls in his class were annoyingly cheery or just painstakingly shy, but Simon was also aware nobody really wanted to be friends with the quiet boy with purple and blue-ish hues on his skin.
“‘M just gonn’a wash my hands!” The voice calls out to someone before they rush down the stairs, the tapping of their kickers hitting the concrete steps. Lisa Wright. Small, skinny little girl with knobbly knees and black unruly curls. Simon feels like a deer caught in headlights when her bright expression flickers to his. Lisa smiles, an unusually warm one that softens when her gaze flickers to the book in his palm. Instantly, he shuts it away, expression souring.
“Lads like you don’t read, Simon. Ye’ too fuckin’ thick.”
It hits him like a wave of nausea. His teachers didn’t care if he read, in fact they said he was reading at a higher level than most people, but he didn’t know Lisa. Small Lisa with her baby pink chipped nails and pain splattered clothes. Somehow messy but put together, like her parents cared enough to iron her clothes and kiss her to bed.
A week passes after their weird stare off, and she’s somehow always finding him - well, that was what Simon was in disbelief about, but the girl can’t help but giggle - “You’re always sat there!”
A few weeks pass, Lisa is stopping now. To talk to him. It’s stupid little questions, about their maths homework or about the cartoon character on his school bag, and Simon is left with his ears burning red at the tips. Lisa Wright was a kooky, crazed girl with no awareness whatsoever, and Simon was left wondering why he was starting to look forward to speaking to her.
“You still haven’t finished that book.” Lisa had said in a matter-of-fact tone, looking up from the plush carpet under them. Their English teacher had let Simon sleep on the rug for an hour before lesson. He knew the bruises were getting worse, he could feel a sharp shooting pain every time he nudged his back up, but when Lisa opens her mouth he’s found himself to be distracted. Like she sees past the black smudged under his eyes, the crinkled uniform, sullied skin.
“It’s long.” The young boy mumbled, rubbing his eyes. He sits up warily, eyes flittering to the book in her hands.
“What are you doing?” Simon freezes, heart jackhammering in his chest - he lunges forward and snatches the Dickens book out of her tan palms. It was his - his property, and she had been holding it all wrong -
“I just wanted to read it!”
“Then don’t break it.” He grumbled back, fingers tracing the binding.
“I didn’t.” Lisa insisted, her eyes rolling back dramatically. Simon knows if he had done the same thing at home, his parents wouldn’t have approved. Simon sighs, and points to the binding.
“You can’t hold it like that - you gotta be car’ful with the pages.”
Lisa copies his movements. She holds it gently, finger tips brushing against the pages. When he nods, much to her delight, she beams.
The next day Lisa was carrying a book.
“Look! I told my mum ‘an I wanted to read like you!” She bubbles, pointing at the cover when they’re situated on the carpet again. It’s hard for him to look up with the searing pain in his neck but he nods, cheeks flaring up. Roald Dahl book. James and the Giant Peach.
“I didn’t like that one.” Simon mutters, playing with the loose thread on his school trousers.
“Why?”
Simon shrugs, almost embarrassed. “‘S scary.”
When her eyes light up with amusement, lips drawing into a grin, Simon flushes again and grips the plush pillow beside him. Lisa is giggling a little. She was making fun of him. Of course she was. I mean, she was Lisa Wright, with her all her preppy little friends and colourful beads in her curls - why would she wanna be friends with someone like him? A good for nothing twat who’s scared of books. Simon tenses his jaw so hard he can hear it crack.
“That’s okay. You don’t have to be scared.”
Obviously, it takes him by surprise. He’s never been told that. Never really felt it either. But the next day, when school ends and he’s sat perched on the office waiting chairs, slumped with his school bag alone because mum had forgotten to pick him up again, he understood. He doesn’t have to be scared with Lisa.
Lisa and her mum pick him up instead. He’s sat bright red in the back of a white Corsa - feeling a little grubby to be in the plush seats - listening to Lisa beg and beg for him to stay. “Just for tea!” she says.
He didn’t have to be scared. Not when Lisa’s big dog jumped up at him and his arms go to protect him instinctively, because the girl is calming the canine down and coaxing him with a smile. He didn’t need to be afraid when Lisa’s mum bombards him with questions about his mum, or his scars - the girl is lying for him, telling her it was football.
“Is your mum nice?”
Simon looks up from the faded comic in his hands, fingertips stained from blueberry sherbet sweets. His mum used to be nice. She used to sing and dance clumsily to Just Dance, pulling Simon in to join her, peppering him with kisses when they’re done, sweaty and happy. But now all she did was sleep, and if it wasn’t that, it was yelling. At him. At anyone.
He was too young to understand at the time. She was absent from parents evenings, forgetting to pick him up, neglecting the house work. He missed his mum - the once bright and lively woman he could trust. Now, he can’t even run behind her legs when Dad was drunk.
“Sometimes.” Simon says quietly, the shame burning in his throat. Perhaps Lisa had realised, and he had to give her credit for being so perceptive. But he hated it. Simon didn’t need pity, he didn’t want it.
“Well, I think you’re really nice.”
“Don’t care.” He grits out. His ears redden.
A beat passes, and she’s tilting her big brown eyes up at him. Simon realises how similiar she is to her mum.
“Are you my boyfriend?”
“No!”
“Mum has one. His name is James. He taught me how to chop fire. But sometimes, they kiss ‘nd stuff.” Lisa’s button nose scrunched up and Simon feels himself becoming a beetroot.
“Well, I don’t wanna be yours!”
“Oh.” Lisa slumps her shoulders, almost looking a bit confused. Simon shouldn’t have come here. He blows out a breath of frustration, adjusting the blue collared shirt around him.
“Is it because I can’t read?”
Simon frowns. He’s not sure of Lisa is pulling his leg, but judging on her purely puzzled face, she seems to be genuine. “You.. can’t?”
Lisa nods. “Not like you can. ‘M too daft to read. The words go all weird.”
The cogs in Simon’s brain are cranking, her words igniting something familiar. He thrusts the comic towards her. “G’won, read that.”
“No!”
“What, you scared?” Simon sneers at her outraged expression. She’s rolling her eyes again, something she knew got on his nerves.
“You’re the one scared of a peach!”
His expression goes stony. Lisa narrows her eyes and glares at him before grabbing the comic harshly, brown eyes bobbing up and down the pages.
“Bhaat… man. Batman.” Lisa sounds out. Simon snorts.
“You’re really that bad?”
“Goooth.. Ghootam.. Goothum..”
—-
#young simon riley#childhood#simon riley#cod modern warfare#captain price#ghost#fluff#angst#soap#cod#blurb#child!simon
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The maid of Mr. Barnes - Part 4 (Bucky Barnes x Reader)
The maid of Mr. Barnes
Part 4 - Porn for women // Masterlist
Bucky Barnes x Reader
Mafia AU
Warnings: mention of spicy books
Summary: You have a day off and you decide to spend it in the library.
The mansion has a library on the third floor with a beautiful view of the lush trees, colorful flowers, and bright clearings. The white curtain swirls and dances at the rhythm of the warm summer breeze. Tall bookcases line up against the walls, reaching the ceiling and leaving the middle of the room free for a comfortable couch and sofas. The dark green carpet is soft under your feet as you sit down, leaning back on the pillows with a book in your hands.
Your first week as Mr. Barnes's maid is over, and you are pleased. Cleaning is something you are used to, and despite the size of the mansion, it's not any harder than anywhere you had to work before. And fortunately, you don't have to clean away blood and dead bodies as you first thought. Now your every thought about working for criminals seems funny and embarrassing. You imagined them as cruel men in expensive suits with bloody hands and guns. Of course, you know they are still gangsters, but at least you don't have to face the reality of it. You are perfectly fine with the facade for now.
You are still happy about your first day off, though. You have wanted to try the library since you found it.
Soon, you are so engrossed in the book that you don't even notice the door of the library opening and closing. The long rows of words are blurred in front of your eyes until you find yourself in another world. You are blond now with soft locks and long legs in front of a man who is ready to turn your life upside down.
"Y/N?"
You jump at the sudden voice, almost dropping the book from your hands. Your head whips up to see the owner of the deep baritone.
"Mr. Barnes," you breathe out. The man in front of you is not blonde with a clean face and crystal blue eyes as in the book, but still handsome and very real. "Can I help you with something?" You ask him, wanting to get up from your seat before he motions you to stay.
"No," he shakes his head. "I was just curious where you are the whole day."
Looking out of the window, you see the sun a the top of the clear blue sky in contrast with the morning when it barely peeked out behind the horizon.
"Sam told me I can use the library," you tell him, suddenly worried about his reaction.
"Yes, yes," he nods. "Anything you want. Can I sit?" He nods to the free space beside you.
"Of course," you nod.
"So, what are you reading?" He asks, placing his ankle over his knee in a spread. His long arm is on the backrest. You can almost feel his warmth on the back of your neck. His eyes seem grey as he glances down at the book in your hands. He seems so casual that you don't know how to react to it at first.
Embarrassment spreads over your face as you follow his gaze. The cover is telling enough with a half-naked, muscular man in the picture. The title with the mafia word in it is clear.
"I... found it here," you explain. You were surprised to find a book like this here, but after reading the summary, it seemed easy enough for your day off.
"Yeah," he smirks. "I bet Steve's girl left it here."
"Oh," you answer, surprised. "She has a sense of humor."
"She has," Bucky agrees. "Do you like it? The book?"
You feel your skin getting hotter as you look down at the cover once again. "Yes," you confess. "I mean... you know it's nothing... serious. It's just..." Oh gosh, you should really shut up. "It's just... porn for women."
Okay. You are ready to bury yourself. You don't even need a shovel for it. You would do anything right now just to disappear from under Bucky's intense gaze. He is amused. The corner of his lips jerks upwards.
"Oh?" He hums. "I should read it."
"Oh, no," you gasp, not wanting him to know what is in the book. It would be too embarrassing. "It's not that good."
"No?" He smirks, playing with you. "Okay, then."
"Can I help you with something?" You ask him again to change the topic as fast as you can. You don't want your boss to know how many positions the heroine gets fucked in one chapter.
"You can stay, Y/N," he says. "It's your day off."
"Yes, but I can still do some work if needed."
"No," he shakes his head. "I just wanted to see that you are all right." He just wanted to see you.
"Uh, okay," you hum, watching him stand up to leave you to continue your reading.
"I leave you with your... porn," he adds from the door. You can hear the smirk in his tone, and you can't help but groan from embarrassment as you bury your face into the pages. Great impression. His maid reads porn in her free time. You don't even want to know what he may think of you now.
It's already dark outside when you finish the book and decide to go back to your room after a quick dinner. The garden is a mess of long shadows, with the clear sky above it full of gleaming stars and the pale moon. The building is quiet too. Dim light filters out under Bucky's office door as you pass by it.
Is he still up and working? Of course, you are not surprised. As a boss of gangsters, he probably has a bunch of things to do.
You stop suddenly, biting your lower lip as you turn back to the door. Should you leave him alone? Won't he be angry at you disturbing him? But still. It would be polite of you to ask if he needs something.
After some thinking, you move back to the door, knocking on the thick wooden surface.
"Come in." You hear the muffled answer.
He sits behind his desk, leaning above the documents. The grey suit jacket is long forgotten on the couch next to the wall. The sleeve of his white shirt is pulled up to his elbows. His arms are covered in black tattoos. The rings on his fingers shine under the lamp's light at the edge of the desk.
"I just..." you start, becoming unsure of yourself. "I just wanted to ask if you need something?"
A small smile pulls on his pouty lips at your question.
"I'm fine," he replies. "But thank you, Y/N. Did you finish the book?"
"Yes," you nod. It was short with a simple storyline. Let's be honest. It was a book about fucking, and you have no regrets.
"Then go to sleep, Y/N," he says. "I will be all right."
"Okay," you hum. "Goodnight, Mr. Barnes."
"It's Bucky for you," he corrects you out. "Hop back to your room, Bunny."
Again, you don't react to the strange nickname. In some way, you like the word rolling off his tongue, and you don't know how you could tell him no anyway. If he wants to call you Bunny, you can get used to it.
Your room is dark when you get back. It's still weird to have so much space just for yourself. Half of your wardrobe is empty since you don't have so many clothes, and most of your belongings are still in your bags, packed away.
A frown forms between your brows as your attention turns to your bed. There is a pile of books on the white blanket. They are tied together with a silky ribbon. The whole series of the story you read today.
A note waits for you when you move closer.
Have fun reading your porn, Bunny.
B.
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hi, i just saw your post about how you don't feel like you'll ever be loved and; honey, same. it genuinely feels like all that is happening in a different reality and i don't know how i would ever even find a person who'd genuinely love me. but. the world is so so full of love and good things and you seem like such a wonderful person who brings so much joy to people, i want to believe that's also recognized in real life and not just on the internet. there has to be some kind of a cosmic balance to these things. your life will be just as beautiful as all the things you put out into it and i want to believe that people would see that and be drawn to it. life is weird and sometimes things just suck but there is so much of everything out there, i want to believe good things are coming to all of us as long as we are kind. i know it doesn't really work like that but man it has to count for something. i want all of us to be okay
omg yes the different reality thing! it doesn't even feel like love is real to me sometimes, which may be my own fault. I try very hard not to blur reality into fiction I promise I know romance isn't a story book or fic but yeah it just seems really out of my reach today! I really think that someone with as much empathy as you could also easily be loved angel, I think we are both having a wobble! And I agree with you so much that I want to believe good things come with kindness and gentleness and even if they don't they should 😭
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I like to think that Michael and V2 will end up meeting Mirage in a void to guide them to somewhere they will be happy and together forever after death. What do you think?
YES YEA i've been thinking about this lately.....that she meets v2 first, when it shuts down before mike passes, out on an endless beach. it's disoriented at first, though it doesn't react in fear or anger, instead quietly observant in a place so unfamiliar and so...alien. it tries to gather its thoughts and she waits until it can ask measured, but somewhat resigned, questions. she can't offer it much explanation honestly, about what it is now and even what this place is, beyond the reach of god, a place out of bounds. v2 understands that, not too worried about the metaphysical if there's no answers available, its life has been weird enough that it can accept what comes...but then. it thinks about its life, something that seems abstract and distant out here, past reality, yet it grasps at what little is left concrete. its head whips around over the desolate beach, seeing no one but mirage, before abruptly demanding to know where mike is. he couldn't have been that far behind...but all mirage can say is that she doesn't know him. it is free to wait here for as long as it wants since time isn't out here either, so it doesn't really matter. none of it does now and it's not like she has anywhere to be.
still, she tries to give it whatever warning she can when it takes the invitation, that it might wait here infinitely and forever in vain, that she doesn't even know if she can stay with it ad infinitum. but v2 is stubborn, staring out on the horizon like it might see something in perpetually gray clouds that hang over a mist and blur any hard edges of where the water might meet the sky. it's...kind of needy, mirage teases it, though she understands death can be lonely. yet v2 can only operate on what it knows, and what it knows right now is minimal, based on feeling (which is as good as anything out here) that this is its critical junction. wherever it goes now, it's unlikely to find anyone who took the same path. this isn't a world bound in dimensions anymore, hard limits that god set on it (no matter how big those once were) and if it leaves this place...if it leaves this starting point....michael could never follow it. and it can't do that to him. he's sick, when v2 let go, there was barely anything of him left. he couldn't make it on his own. and mirage understands the sentiment then, that they've been together all alone for a long, long time. it would be pointless to offer any further arguments, even the obvious "it's pretty improbable in any system, even one this random, that robots and angels all go to the same place" because. she hardly knows more about it than anyone else, and it seems v2 would stay put here as long as it takes besides. as long as there's hope, however small. machines can be very stubborn like that, so she lets it wait. she sits down beside it as it silently prays like it has dozens of times for michael to come back to it, mirage taking out a book to maybe catch up on her homework. if she ever gets back to class.
the world around them is impassable and nothing changes, v2 the only one that seems able to produce any kind of impact yet unwilling to do so. it doesn't know the time that passes, if it does at all, holding on to the little icon michael gave it a long time ago and curiously, which it never lost in all those years (it was a part of him, of course it would always turn up). yet somehow it's getting tired, the lid of its optical feeling distinctly heavy as its thoughts begin to blur in their endless repetition and its grip loosens bit by bit. so take a break, go to sleep, mirage tells it in their first broken silence in what could be days. before it protests, she assures it everything will be the same when it wakes up, and she'll even pray a couple times for it so the vigil is upheld while v2 grumbles how stupid it is to take a nap when you're dead. but it does, it needs to. it curls up in the sand and mirage keeps by it, kind of glad she doesn't just wink out of existence. everything stays the same too, just like she said, until the wind shifts almost imperceptibly and she closes her book. she looks up to see who she guesses must be michael, settled just beside v2 but letting it sleep, and she quickly understands what it had meant when it spoke of his sickness. no wonder it didn't want to go anywhere. michael asks no questions, though he does apologize for keeping them for so long. he couldn't find his way, and he's actually grateful to see v2 napping since he needs a rest himself - he's long since thrown away his pride on understanding the whole of god's creation, so he wouldn't dare be presumptuous about what lies beyond it. he just guesses it might be a long sojourn, and mirage agrees that's fair enough.
and when v2 wakes, it's greeted with a thousand brilliant shades of purple, covered by iridescent wings to help keep the windblown sand off of it. its own wings instantly burst into green, scrambling over itself to pounce on michael whose arms hold it fast almost on instinct. "here i am". it's the michael v2 met a long time ago, his body restored only so much, still with a shimmering ribcage and abundant blooms but now shining in a radiance it had never gotten the chance to see. there is no rot, no disease, and michael could nearly sob at how he can finally actually feel v2. this is his happiness, at peace with a body in symbiosis with nature and in the body that v2 had loved, the body he, strangely, had been able to heal in. and it's so happy in turn to have the michael it knows without pain, his body now warm and vibrant beside it as it feels his hands smooth over its metal, its plastic and its glass in uncharacteristically eager movements. finally, there is clarity again, to recognize each other after so many years of two failing minds only able to hold on to disjointed ghosts of memories. they're reunited after never having been apart. this moment hangs between them until they're both confident this is their new reality, however long it might last, and v2 asks mirage to lead them wherever they're supposed to go now. she lets them pick the direction and they begin to walk, v2's voice now filling up the silence as michael's touch refuses to leave it.
#THEY ARE TOGETHER FOREVER.....SOBS#i want to do a mini comic for this real real bad#just a couple different scenes...BUT i wanted to get the full idea out here more or less#it's messy!!!! but i'm not normal about them#impossible to properly articulate my thoughts!!!#cake answers#v2#mirage#michael
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The shield that you own - 3
*
The premiere in London didn't go that smoothly. Jack could see that Tim wasn't really happy with his outfit, the trousers apparently weren't comfortable, Tim kept his sunglasses on for a long time, which indicated that he had already taken drugs with Haider in the hotel room, and they all had to wait ages for Zendaya to be dressed in her costume... It was already a long evening before it had even started.
Jack let his gaze wander over the crowds as they waited. A glimpse of the first time he was hired by Tim's team slipped into his memory and he had to smile.
It had been the premiere of “Beautiful Boy”, also here in London, and Tim had jumped uncontrollably from one bulk of fans to another and back again, so randomly that Jack, who had to do the jumping with him, had the feeling that Tim was only doing this to test or annoy him. Jack soon found out that yes, Tim didn’t mind teasing him but his jumpy behavior was more due to his constant need to please everyone and not disappoint anyone; he wanted to be loved by every single person on this planet and beyond that didn't know how to say no. After all, Jack apparently hadn't done too bad a job, they booked him again afterwards.
Over the years, the crowds of fans got bigger and bigger. And even though Jack only saw Tim at promo tours, he could watch how the boy became a star, climbing up the pedestal stair by stair with a big proud grin, stepping further and further into the sky. Jack saw him shine and grow. But Jack also saw him become more and more isolated.
Slowly but surely, the "Hollywood" system took hold. More and more powerful people were tugging at him, talking to him, persuading him for selfish reasons while being surrounded by all this tempting money. In the end it was no wonder you lost your sense of reality and responsibility in this enclosed world. Things were no longer questioned as long as they served the career, and no one told you the truth about anything anymore to make sure you continued to strive for more fame.
If Jack was honest to himself, he had to fall in line, even if his reasons weren’t the same. But he didn't judge Tim for getting deep down in Hollywood nor did he confront him with difficult subjects. He didn't ask him uncomfortable questions like why he did or didn't do certain things that Jack himself saw differently or didn't understand.
Instead, he made him feel safe, he did everything he could to make him feel good.
For him, this was part of his job. But the boundaries had long since become blurred. With everything they had being going through, with everything they had shared and done by now, weren't they something like friends? And if yes, shouldn't he give Tim every now and then a piece of his mind?
But he didn't. He wasn't sure if he did it out of fear of losing his job or out of fear of losing Tim. But whatever the reason, he just didn't. So once again, here in London, he didn't tell Tim what he really thought about Haider.
He certainly wasn't looking forward to the reunion with Haider, even if he didn't let on, and he already knew roughly how the evening would go. They would all be cooler than cool, they would all consume a lot of alcohol and no less drugs and they would all have an incredible amount of fun, which, according to Haider, you could only have if you consumed a lot of alcohol and no less drugs.
Haider was a creative and interesting person, Jack wouldn't deny that, and he could guess why Tim found him inspiring and was only too happy to be his muse. But this "it's only a real party if you're really high" thing was not only stupid, Jack honestly thought it was kind of outdated, too.
But Tim went along with it. He went along with it because he couldn't say no, he went along with it because he never missed an opportunity to get on brilliantly with anyone who was or could be useful to him and – if you asked Jack – he went along with it because he felt guilty that he wasn't sleeping with Haider, who had shown more than once that he was not averse to the idea.
The fact that Tim seemed to be able to say no at least in this matter was the only consolation to Jack.
After the premiere a whole bunch of people went to a club, including Tom with Zendaya and Kaia with Austin and of course Haider as their unsolicited leader.
There had been evenings when Tim had managed to persuade Jack to join in the dancing, but tonight Tim was already far too much in his own tunnel and Jack too annoyed by Haider, so he decided to stand on the edge of the dance floor and just watch.
He watched Tim laughing, dancing and vibing with all his friends and yet Jack had the feeling that Tim somehow was alone. Maybe it was the alcohol and the drugs, but the feeling of a contrived joy made Jack’s heart sigh with sadness.
He knew it was silly to blame everything on Haider, Tim was a grown man, but when Haider held a drink under his nose and growled "Come on, Jackie boy. Don't be so stiff. A drink won't do you any harm. You're a big boy, aren't you?", Jack declined politely and made another line on his imaginary blackboard under "don't like him".
Once back at the hotel, Haider tried to convince Tim to party some more in his room and as Tim, quite high and grinning dully, took more than a second to answer, whether because of his condition or because he didn't want to, Jack quickly stepped in for him.
"I would say rather not. I think he's pretty tired."
Haider gave him a patronizing look, eyebrows high. "Can't he speak for himself?"
"I'm tired," Tim luckily consented right then, sparing Jack a reaction to Haider's stupid remark.
"The youth of today! Look at you! How old are you? And look at me!” Haider pointed to himself before shaking his head in exaggerated disbelief. “How sad that young people can't stand anything anymore.”
Luckily Tim didn't say anything in response, just kept smiling tiredly, and Haider finally had to give in.
When he hugged Tim with his whole body to say good night, Jack tensed up, even more so, when Haider gave Tim a wet kiss on the mouth, while slapping Tim's buttocks. All in good fun, of course. Haider’s dirty laugh made Jack sick to his stomach.
Jack had seen scenes like this before, he always found them offensive, he always instinctively wanted to intervene, but yes, of course, they were such good friends and it was all just fun.
Jack was annoyed as hell.
In the elevator, Tim didn't say a thing, seemingly lost in thought and contemplation, but Jack could see that the dull good mood seemed to be slowly fading and a feeling of dissatisfaction spread.
When they reached Tim’s door, Jack asked concerned, "Everything okay?"
Tim gave a less than convincing "Yeah, sure," and added an indecisive "Do you want to come in?"
Tim’s voice was already alarmingly dismissive but Jack accepted the invitation anyway, or perhaps because of it. He wasn’t sure what would happen and needed to make sure everything was alright.
When they were in the room the first thing Tim did was to take off the inconvenient pants. Impatiently and carelessly he slipped them off his legs, while grumbling to himself: "Fucking pants!", then got rid of his top until he was standing there in nothing but socks, underpants and a way too expensive Cartier necklace.
With a mixture of defiance and dissatisfied forlornness he looked at Jack and spread his arms.
"Wanna suck my cock?"
Jack bit his lower lip to remain calm before he quietly responded, "I'd better go."
Tim feigned disappointment, muttering half provocatively, half deliberately offending, "Armie would know what to do.... what I need."
That had hit.
A dagger thrust into Jack's chest.
The crudeness of it however and his accumulated irritation, made Jack – surprised at himself – hit back with sarcasm.
"Should I check with Austin? Maybe he's a better substitute."
As soon as the words were out of his mouth, he immediately regretted them. Even though Tim had hurt him and the day had been exhausting, it gave him no reason to react like this. He looked down at the floor, taking a deep breath to collect himself again, before he apologized. "I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that."
When he looked up again, bracing himself for further displeasure thrown at him, he was surprised to see tears in Timmy's eyes, and the shield he had just raised was already crumbling again.
Tim’s brow furrowed, his lips narrowed, his eyes full of pent-up sadness, he looked like one big heap of misery. "I missed him today. I missed him so much. Tom was there for Z, Kaia for Austin... I want that too."
A simple understandable wish.
To have his partner by his side.
It broke Jack's heart and at the same time, it turned the dagger in Jack's chest mercilessly.
Once again the bitter realization that he wasn't the one. Yes, they had no commitments, nothing was promised, he was just his bodyguard and they occasionally fucked.
By the look on Tim’s face he seemed to realize what he had said and what it meant to Jack. "No, no, I didn’t mean..." he softly tried to take it back somehow, but apparently he could also see in Jack's face that he couldn't. Defeated, Tim slid to the floor in front of the bed and buried his sobbing face in his hands.
"I'm such a fucking mess... I'm so sorry... I don't know what I'm doing..."
Yes, Tim was a mess. A mess made by Hollywood.
Jack had seen Tim cry before, but never this much and as weird as it must look for many, it made his problems less important. His instinctive need to help was pathetic but indestructible.
He squatted down next to Tim in front of the bed and put his arm around him.
Tim immediately and gratefully took the invitation, clung to him, clawing his hands desperately into Jack's shirt, burying his face in Jack’s neck, and Jack was doing what he always did, giving him closeness and comfort.
For a while they just sat there like this, Tim’s tears wetting Jack’s shirt.
"You know that I didn't sleep with Austin, right?" Tim mumbled eventually against his neck. “There was nothing. I just made that up.”
Jack sighed. What a mess. But did it even make a difference?
He didn't know.
He held Tim’s slender body, felt the soft warm skin under his hands, smelled his scent, listened to the still heavy breathing from all the crying.
There were a thousand reasons not to sleep with Tim at that moment.
But for Jack, one reason to do it was enough.
Slowly and carefully, he picked Tim up and laid him on the bed and began spoiling him and his shaking body with kisses.
It wasn't as if there weren't any scars in this relationship, and today a new one had been added. In the back of his mind, Jack knew that he should stand up for himself and Tim didn't deserve his unconditional love, but unfortunately, at the moment he just didn't care.
Slowly the unrest turned into calm.
Tim grabbed Jack's hair, played with it, looked at him mindfully, watched every move as Jack’s mouth and hands wandered over his body, and they kissed on the lips like they rarely did.
Jack loved that for Tim sex always was an outlet for feelings, a description of his innermost state and today, sex for both of them was a way to redemption.
When the quiet tenderness finally turned to desire and Jack entered Tim, their bodies undulated in waves of lust and craving until Tim's body arched beneath him to the extreme, his head thrown back he moaned deep and liberating as he came. For one last time Jack buried himself into Tim's body with a heavy thrust and poured himself in Tim, a similar deep, redeeming feeling rushing through his veins.
There weren't the right words for what they were, but maybe sometimes you just didn't need to look for them.
*
The next day they had no commitments, it was a day off, and Jack had booked a flight to visit his family in Cornwall. Part of his brain was so romantic that he would have liked Tim to fly with him and he was sure Tim would have been only too happy to agree – he was way too curious with things like that and always keen to recruit new fans for himself –, but the sensible part of Jack's brain vehemently advised him against it and that was for the best. A little distance after last night would certainly do him good.
So he went alone, let his mother cook for him from morning till night and let Sarah tell him all the bad things she had read about the quirks of Hollywood stars.
As he lay in his old crib in the evening looking at his cell phone, Tim had sent him a link to a song.
Jack clicked on the link and listened to the lyrics.
Please be my shield against all that′s blue
Love me and lead and I'll carry through
Keep me from danger, don′t leave me too soon
Forgive me for all that I am
Shadows they whisper, stare at my soul
Misled are those who march all alone
Keep me from strangers without good intent
Forgive me for all that I am
You are my fire when I can't see
You're the one watching over me
You are my fire, yeah
You are my fire, on you I lean
Promise you, won′t give up on me
You are my fire
*
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Pokemon Blur - Prologue : The Fool
In the lively city of Aspertia, there was a boy that dreamt of being a hero.
Divine dragons of Truth and Ideals, heed the prayers of a foolish heart.
Before we embark on this dangerous quest, shower us with your grace so that we may have a safe journey.
...
The coming of spring is where many dreams would blossom alongside the flowers- following a harsh winter, the people of Flocessy wasted no time in tending to their lands and ranches, eager to see what the rest of the year will bring.
"February was colder than other years," Muses the town mayor. "I hear it was as cold as Sinnoh on a hot day."
From behind her teacup, a blonde laughs.
"Yes! That's what I've been telling Professor Juniper! We're experiencing temperatures never before seen in Unova- I wonder why that is?"
"It's easy to chalk it up to the times, little lass-"
He leans over to refill her teacup.
"-but the youth of today isn't gonna take that for an answer."
"And why would we? If something's up, we ought to be the ones to figure out why; not when you old folks are sitting about."
The blonde's companion, a girl with a massive ponytail, speaks from the window- she does not join the other two in their warm conversation, content with merely listening and occasionally quipping in every now and then.
"You have a point there,"
The mayor laughs.
"Ah, it's good to see you haven't lost your spark, Hilda. Still as abrasive as ever- it's a shame you've taken a break from the subway, Emmet thinks you're a wildcard."
Hilda rolls her eyes- but her companion smiles even brighter.
"Oh, she's been a delight to have around! I make sure she gets plenty of training done even while she's acting as my bodyguard in the field,"
"Bianca,"
"Sorry, sorry- that's for another time!"
Bianca giggles, setting down her teacup and tapping her fingers against the book on her lap.
"It's really nice to catch up with you, Mr. Alder. It's been, um, two years?"
"Two years."
Though the hue of the leaves remain the same, the winds have changed- his guests remain as they have, but the light in their eyes are different.
And speaking of guests.
"Where's your other friend? He was here a few minutes ago, wasn't he?"
"He went out for some fresh air," Hilda replies. "He's taking his Pokemon for a walk."
"The ranch outside of town is lovely- he told me he spent a good quarter of last year's spring season over there."
Alder's mouth makes an "o" shape as he recalls.
"He did, he did- how has he been, by the way?"
For all that she's chatted about today, Bianca finds herself unsure of what to say.
Finally, she picks a word.
"Different-"
And as predicted, Hilda immediately adds "-but better than before."
That's all Alder could ask for- and it was far better news than what he was expecting.
"Okay, that's good. I admit, I wasn't sure what they were thinking when they told me they wanted him in this position, but-"
He glances at the framed picture on the wall- one of him with a group of four youths, wide-eyed and brimming with potential.
"Perhaps you kids can dream of things us grown-ups can't."
He himself hadn't lost the will to dream- but with the reality before him, he had to set aside certain expectations.
That's what it meant to be the Pokemon Champion after all.
An air of melancholy hovers over them as the conversation takes a more somber route- Bianca looks down at her teacup, smile still present, but stiffer than what it usually was.
And Hilda, looking outside the window, speaks up again.
"Guess we're gonna lose that ability soon in a couple of years, huh, Beebs?"
"Oh, hopefully not, Hilly- not with the research I've been doing."
Alder spots an opportunity to talk about something else- this quiet, tense atmosphere was something he didn't want in his house after all.
"Oh? Working hard with Fennel too?"
"You bet! Say, do you wanna know about the effects of Dream Mist- beyond what we know now?"
As the conversation picks up again, Hilda sighs, back leaned against the wall as she gazes out into the blue sky.
They had a few more hours to kill before they were expected to head to Aspertia- and it wasn't like she hated hearing Bianca's voice anyway.
...
"I'm all set, mom!"
She hears the excited footsteps clamoring downstairs, the clicking of plastic and jingling of bells- a collection of keychains.
She exits from her chores in the bathroom, removing her rubber gloves- and is horrified to see the atrocity standing before her.
"Bye bye! I'll make sure to give you a call!"
"Now, wait just a minute!"
She grabs him by the scruff of his jacket, just as he's about to pass by her- and stares incredulously.
In the home of Marianne Blake, things were in an uproar- the day had finally arrived, when her only son would receive a Pokemon of his own from an esteemed professor.
Or at least, the professor's assistant- she was quite a busy woman, she could not be blamed.
Such should be a cause for celebration- but here she was, arguing with her child before he even stepped foot outside.
"Anak, you can't be serious," Marianne takes a good look at him, head to toe.
"Why? What's wrong with it?"
"What- anak,"
She rubs her temples, sighing deeply.
"What even are you wearing? There's a spare backpack for you to use, a much more protective cap- and is that a rash guard you're wearing under your clothes?!"
"I might want to take a dip! You never know!"
"Nathaniel, you better not be leaving the house like that!"
Through the argument, the small boy grinned mischievously at his mother's exasperation, his little cat-smile never leaving his face.
"Crazy, because that's exactly what I'm going to do!"
"Nathaniel!"
"Mamaaaa, who cares what I wear out there? This classifies as acceptable travel gear, you know!"
"Just because it's acceptable- go change into something else before you're late!"
Now came his whine- and his Lillipup eyes.
"You're making me run late here! What will Ms. Alabaster say? That I kept my future partner waiting because I was busy coordinating my outfit?"
She opens her mouth to argue- but groans.
"Ugh, fine, fine. Do whatever you like. I suppose if you think that's fit for travel-"
She looks down at the worn pair of crocs.
"-but at the very least, take these."
Her son tilts his head like a confused dog, wondering what else she has to give besides an additional scolding- but to his surprise, she digs out a box from underneath the staircase.
"I was saving this for your birthday, but since your journey is starting today, you might as well make use of it now."
Opening the box, she reveals a pair of red running shoes, ankle-length- the same ones she knew her son had been eyeing.
"Happy early birthday, Nathaniel- now put these on and go look for Ms. Alabaster."
"Mamaaaaa, thank you!"
He wasted no time settling into his shoes, tapping them against the floor as he felt himself almost standing in the air.
They were a perfect fit.
"Now, remember what I taught you-"
"Yeah, yeah! I get it!"
He opens the screen door with a bang- and promptly terrifies his family's pet Delcatty and her Skitty, awakening them from their slumber.
"Be wise with money, avoid shady characters- and have fun!"
"And come home when you're lost," She reminds him. "If you can't find your way forward-"
"Then I'll retrace my steps back from square one!"
Looking up at the big blue sky, he felt the first page of his journey being written for historians to see.
"Just my style!"
Sprinting out of his house with a loud cheer, Marianne leans against the doorframe with a look of worry- one that quickly melts once she realizes who exactly she is being fussy over.
Still.
From the distance, she hears him yelling.
"Look out, world! Nate's gonna take you by surprise!"
"Dragons,"
She shakes her head.
"Please make sure he doesn't get himself in trouble."
...
The bell of Floccesy Town tolls, it's chimes echoing throughout the area.
The Mareep bleat at the sound, and nearby Riolu peer front underneath the tall grass.
From within a hidden grotto, a figure wrapped in a gray cardigan prays in the shade of the trees-
And a gust of wind overtakes them, as the nests of Pidove and Tranquil resting on the branches soar to the skies.
They cover their face, steadying their ground,
And the ribbon wrapped around their collar unravels, carried by the wind.
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A little scribble in which an undead person thinks about their favorite ghost
Unreality, nonexplicit discussions of death and corpses, dreamy nonsense, gay if you’re looking for it
Ilya: the ghost, he/him
Delta: the one who dies and comes back repeatedly, #camebackwrong, they/them
Also mentioned: Andromeda, Moriine & Daishin are alive people. That’s all that matters here.
~
Andromeda had always been there when Delta came back, but it was Ilya who they found in that space between. Not always. Sometimes it was instantaneous, going from a dying body back to an undying body, with no gap. But sometimes there was a space of nothingness, and sometimes the undying dragged on and on, and Delta could retreat back into that nothingness while their body reformed. It was in that space that Ilya was most powerful and present, and in that space that Delta was less real than ever.
Without Ilya, it was empty and empty and empty and then there were hours (or they felt like hours) of simply Alone and Dark, interspersed with fleeting visions and passing ghosts, a sense of presence or a passing possession. Sometimes the ghosts would speak to Delta, and rarely they understood. Delta would find themself dreaming twice removed deaths, a spectator to a hazy mirage twisted and half forgotten in the space between ghost and Delta, lost in translation.
Ilya was different, of course. Only Ilya could take Delta from un-nothing into another plane of unreality so solid Delta came to believe it was its own reality. There was the world of the living, the void of the dead, and then there was Ilya.
The previous Delta had never believed in any religion; they knew that now not from memory but with an ingrained certainty, because they also knew that this was closer than they’d ever been to believing in something the way people talked about gods.
None of the other ghosts manifested so solidly, to sit on the floor beside Delta’s corpse and talk for hours.
The other ghosts shared their deaths in kaleidoscopic cloudy memories, chaotically interspersed with memories of their lived. Ilya brought Delta to the day he died, and Delta walked through it again and again, until they knew it as well as they knew their own waking world. That old castle and the flames and the screams, the bodies and the crumbling stone and the magic and flesh… It became Delta’s home, too. Delta lay inside Ilya’s body as it burned.
But Ilya would also take Delta to his life. Delta met his family, saw Andromeda herself through Ilya’s eyes so long ago, even Moriine and Daishin, and many others with blurry faces who had died alongside Ilya, or before him, or since.
They’d walk together through a vast library, blurred at the edges, with books that Delta couldn’t touch or read, but with beautiful golden spires of sun reaching up to the skylights. That was Ilya’s favorite place, always empty of any other souls or remembered persons, vague and idealized. They’d lay together on a rug that had never existed in front of a warm fireplace and stare up into stars that made no sense indoors.
“Do you do it on purpose?” Delta asked once, when they were both in the waking world again, and conversations were linear things that had words and sequences. “The way I could choose to draw a picture, and decide to add something that isn’t real? Or is it more like dreaming, and I just come along?”
“I hadn’t thought about the difference before,” Ilya said, and vanished. He was prone to doing that.
Several days later, as Delta was falling asleep, Ilya’s voice was there in the empty room. “It used to be just like dreaming,” he said. “And then I learned to chose certain themes of dreams, and throw them at people. But now, it’s more like a fully lucid dream. I can influence parts of it.”
“I’ve never lucid dreamed.”
“You know what it means, though.”
“Yes. In theory.”
“So, to answer your question, I didn’t decide to add the stars to the library ceiling, that just happened, the way dreams happen. I didn’t question it, and neither did you. But if you had questioned it, I could have made them go away. I’ve never tried manifesting stars for you, just the way I would draw a picture, just because you want to see stars. But perhaps I’ll try some day.”
And then Ilya was gone again, though he hadn’t really been there to begin with, but somehow Delta knew when the room felt empty again. And then they had the space and privacy to linger on thoughts and feelings that they didn’t need the ghost to know. Not that they really understood those thoughts and feelings either.
It just meant laying there thinking, he said he wants to manifest the stars for me. He said he wants to manifest the stars for me. For me. If I wanted, because I asked, for me, the stars, in his world, in his mindscape, just for me, for me.
It was a warm, floaty feeling. It felt like the library. Safe and bright and idealized and private and impossible.
And then would come some deep seated dread Delta couldn’t understand. The kind that came whenever they had unacceptable thoughts which could never ever be glimpsed by anyone else, which had to be carefully tucked away lest they wander into reality.
#in the mirror i saw who you could have been#my writing#death and lack thereof#delta#ilya#ghosts#came back wrong#this isnt super about that but#it applies
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*sighs* because none of my friends have watched it and I’m at a soccer game and I’m bored out of my mind could I ask you some questions?
Have you watched Remember the Titans? (If you haven’t it’s on Disney Plus and is literally the best football movie I’ve ever seen; plus young Ryan Gosling who plays a guy named Allan which I screamed at because “all his clothes fit me”)
If you have…I dunno, thoughts, favorite moment, anything (beggar me, scrounging for crumbs)
More Tiny Little Headcanons for Henryyyy (+ some Henry Lives AU headcanons)
Because Athena acts in older plays, he’s tried to read more Shakespearean books and stuff like that so they can talk about it together and he can be of assistance when she’s rehearsing. (This is how I see it, you’ll probably have something different: he’s OKAY with them, but not the hugest fan. Whenever Athena is ranting about how useless the female characters are, he’ll just nod with a small smile and agree.)
He’s the kind of person to be kind of awkward around small kids, convinced that they don’t like him. I think that kids can sense a kind person, so that doesn’t deter them and he ends up teaching them how to draw and stuff.
I’ve never been in a hospital as a patient and I’m guessing ways to kill yourself wouldn’t be TOO numerous but when Henry first wakes up to a few weeks out he tries many times to pull the tubes out of him or turn off the numbing medication (the stuff that’s in the bag; not hydration but…ughhhh stoopid), get out of his bed and stuff to the point where they have to tie him down. (IS THIS FACTUAL I DONT KNOW). After that, when Sam comes to visit and he asks what happened, Henry says, “I’m a monster. Thats why.” Or something.
In a lighter note, Henry DEFINITELY makes for some awkward situations when he asks Sam “when are you gonna marry your girl?” And Sam tries to explain that he and “his girl” have been on one half date to get coffee after seeing his broken body being taken away to the hospital. “Where’s your ring?” “What ring, Henry?” “Your- the ring you were gonna give her; you didn’t lose it, did you?” “Who is her?”
That’s all for now. Probably will continue in ten minutes. Thanks for reading all this shit.
I haven't seen Remember the Titans yet, but it's on my list!
And I'm literally so happy to get headcanons I'm twirling my (non-existent) long hair ✨
• I would love to dive into their relationship more! We get so little about her but I love the classic "visual artist doesn't fully understand the literary artist and vice versa but they are super supportive of each other" bit!
• I also think he'd be good with kids, or at least they'd sense that he's chill, he's Definitely a cat person IMO
• I'm honestly planning on him being on a psych hold at some point in the story so I SEE the vision
• And yes!!! The blurring between realities!!! That's also something I'm Super excited to write about!!
As always I owe you my life lol, thanks for the inspiration!
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His Possession
Ecstasy 09
Beta reader: @ruki-mukami-dl
A couple of days passed, yet nothing new happened. No one had come for Komori Yui, and Yuriko was growing more worried. Maybe Nalia’s contact couldn’t have done anything. Yuriko had tried to talk to Ruki about the situation but kept saying the Mukamis were only doing as the Vampire king wished.
And how could Yuriko say anything to that? She could simply hope that her excursion would eventually help.
Then came a day when the rain finally ceased a little. Yuriko gazed out of the window to the forest, captivated by its greenery and quietness. As she stared into the distance, her eyelids started to slide down, lower, and lower, blurring her surroundings more and more, until the forest disappeared from her…
…yet another appeared in front of Yuriko’s eyes. She gaped as she noticed how tall the trees were, reaching for the sky above her. She knew this place! This forest!
Yuriko hurried through the woods, dashing over the stones and mushrooms. As always, the place was dark and gloomy. Only the stars sparkled in the sky but there wasn’t even a promise of the moon. She didn’t mind but spurted her way to the familiar cliff.
“Yuuto!”
“It took you forever to fall asleep.” Yuuto turned around, swaying his blue-tipped tails.
Yuriko slowed her pace, pushing her paws against the leaf-covered soil. Panting, she gazed at her brother. “It’s in the middle of the day…”
“Kinda hard to notice here.”
“Umh… well… yes…” Now, that Yuuto mentioned it, this dream forest seemed always to have nighttime.
“Never mind that tho. I wanna tell you somethin’... The village chiefs are meetin’ with someone important today. They’ll be away for three of your days at least, I think. So… if you have learned…”
Yuriko jumped, her tail swaying back and forth. This was perfect! “I have! I can turn into a fox now… I mean, for real! And… and… I could go to search for the gate!” Her heart was bouncing, making her ears drum. Finally, she could meet her brother in reality. They could talk, they could do things together, have a life together. And they could save Mother too.
Yuuto shifted as he had been uncomfortable. The amber-yellow gaze turned dimmer even though he should have been as excited as Yuriko. “Just open the gate, gotcha? You ain’t doin’ anythin’ else. You open the gate, I’m gonna take care of the rest. And then we’re gonna ditch the place.”
“But… but… how do you even know that I have opened the gate?” Yuriko tilted her head to the side. It might be that she would have to wait for a long time for Yuuto and their mother to appear if she wasn’t allowed to walk through the gate.
“I’ll wait near to it.”
“With Mom? Is that safe?”
Yuuto frowned and let out a frustrated growl. “Just do your part and lemme focus on mine. Now, hurry back. The geezers might be away but we ain’t got time to waste.”
Something invisible pressed against Yuriko, pushing her further away from Yuuto. Never before had this happened but the forest slipped away from her faster than she managed to say goodbye.
Yuriko flinched, almost falling from her chair. Blinking, she yawned and tried to understand where she was. Right! In the library of the Mukami manor!
And the time had come!
“Ruki!” Yuriko turned around.
Ruki lifted his face from the book he had been reading, frowning slightly. “If this is about Eve again…”
“Umh… no. I want to go to look for the gate. I think I’m ready now.” Yuriko would worry about the girl after she would have sorted out her own problems for it seemed Eve wasn’t in imminent danger. Yuma was simply keeping her here. But Yuuto and Yuriko’s mother… Yuriko swallowed.
“Are you sure?” Ruki rose from the armchair and closed the distance between him and Yuriko. The slight anxiety lingered in the air around him, but Yuriko kept a brave face. She wouldn’t back down now. “We would have to go alone. Kou is at work and Yuma is occupied. Even Azusa is busy today.”
“I’m sure it’s fine. I… I don’t want to bother them anyway…” Yuriko shifted, averting her gaze. She was causing so much trouble.
“Look at me.” Ruki took Yuriko’s chin and lifted her face. She blinked, turning her gaze up into the storm of his eyes. “You are not causing trouble, for you are part of this family and we support each other.” Sighing, Ruki glided his thumb over Yuriko’s cheek. “I guess it will take time for you to see that.”
Yuriko placed her hand on Ruki’s. He was right. It was so difficult to squeeze into her head that the Mukamis weren’t bothered because of her since her parents had always made it clear that anything she asked was extra trouble. Well… her mother hadn’t said so… but she had been so tired all the time that Yuriko had felt bad about asking anything from her. Now, Ruki was stating the exact opposite, and it felt so wrong to simply take it. But then again, Yuriko would not want to offend him by turning him down either.
“But if you truly wish to go now, then we should do it.” Ruki glanced out. “Weather is a bit better today. Let us go.”
Taking Yuriko’s hand, Ruki pulled her with him downstairs and finally out of the manor. They walked to the forest, letting the greeny shadows settle upon them while they roamed forward. Everything was damp from the rain and the air smelled rich even to Yuriko’s human nose. But she could also sense how the more heated season was lurking closer, soon the unbearable hotness of summer would hit them, and she could only dream of cooler days.
“You should transform now. We are not getting anywhere by simply walking around…” Ruki looked around. “Your mother’s diary did not give us too many details but the information about the shrine was helpful. I have a hunch of the direction now.” Ruki’s gaze returned to Yuriko. He leaned in, pecking her lips. “But we need your special skills for this.”
Yuriko nodded. She was ready. She would save her family and then she would head for a brighter future. Today would be the day that would change everything.
Yuriko’s tiny feet started to get tired, but she kept walking, sniffing around the best she could. At first, it had been difficult to distinguish the different smells from each other but as they roamed deeper in the woods with Ruki it became easier. And then she caught the scent she had been looking for all along.
The Kitsune.
The fragrance was like Yuriko’s own, like the one she had smelled on Yuuto in the dream world. Yet, it was different too. Yuriko couldn’t properly explain the difference, but it was there, and it was clear for her. Whoever had made their path through these parts of the woods hadn’t been her brother but someone else.
Hurrying again, Yuriko pressed her snout into the ground and followed the trail. She heard Ruki coming right behind her as she meandered through the undergrowth. Her face got all wet, but she didn’t mind because the scent was growing more intense with every step she took.
Then suddenly, Yuriko rushed past the tree line. She lifted her head and let the sight sink in. All the stones were covered by moss, making them almost melt together with the forest. If there had been wooden buildings, they were long gone but Yuriko could see a huge torii gate that led into the area. Between pillars and fox statues, bamboo trees stood out and grass covered the edges of each stone of the path that traveled deeper in.
The air was tense as Yuriko breathed in. She stepped forward, intending to enter the shrine through the torii gate but, to her surprise, she found herself back in front of it in the second she walked in. Pressing her ears against her head, she growled and backed down only to dart forward…
…and she stumbled on Ruki’s legs.
“Good grief…” Ruki crouched down, patting Yuriko’s head. “Did you hurt yourself?”
Hastily, Yuriko shook her head and swayed her tail.
“Perhaps you should turn back into your human form now. It seems we have found a very special portal.” Ruki said, straightening up. He took a couple of steps, stopping right in front of the gate and reaching his hand forward. “Peculiar… I can almost feel the resistance. But perhaps it is better that I do not try to walk through it. Even if it did not hurt you, for all we know it could react badly to a Vampire.”
Ruki groaned and looked back at Yuriko. “You should not have darted towards it like that either. Do not do such silly stunts anymore. Is that clear?”
Yuriko nodded, closing her eyes. She focused on feeling the human in her, calling that out now. Slowly, she felt how her body started to morph again. Unfortunately, it didn’t push away the slight ache from her muscles.
When Yuriko was ready, she opened her eyes again. Ruki pulled her into his embrace, stroking her hair and catching her lips into a soft, yet deep smooch that sent shivers down her spine.
“Are you sure you are ready, my angel?” Ruki’s question vibrated against Yuriko’s mouth. She sucked his bottom lip between hers, giving it a little pluck, and sighed.
“As ready as I can become.” Yuriko lifted her hand, brushing Ruki’s cheek briefly. “And with you… I can do anything.”
Again, Yuriko gazed at the gate. It was right there. Her way into the realms of the Kitsune, into the place where she originated. Her mother’s childhood home. It had been carefully hidden here probably longer than Yuriko could really understand. By the look of it, the shrine was ancient and had been forgotten for who knew how long.
So, the Kitsune blood would open the gate. It was clear it wasn’t enough that the said blood pumped in Yuriko’s veins since she hadn’t been able to just jump through. Perhaps that meant that the blood needed to be spilled.
Raising her hand, Yuriko glided her sleeve toward her elbow. There were still bruises around her wrist where Laito had bitten her and then Ruki covered that mark with his own. “Umh…”
“We should try something smaller.” Ruki slid Yuriko’s sleeve back down and took her hand. He lifted it, kissing her fingertips. “I would prefer not to waste any of your sweet blood, for it also belongs to me and to me only. But because this is important to you, I am willing to let you use it for this matter. Still, let us not be wasteful. Perhaps a mere drop will do the trick.”
With that, Ruki pressed his fang on the tip of Yuriko’s index finger. She yelped as her skin broke even though the pain was only minimal. A crimson dot appeared where the fang had touched, making Ruki inhale deeply. Yet, this time, he didn’t lick over it. Instead, he guided Yuriko closer to the gate and pressed her hand into the air between the pillars.
The view in front of the couple began to wave. Yuriko stared as the shrine disappeared and the forest continued on the other side of the torii gate.
“Let us proceed…” Ruki whispered. Before Yuriko had time to tell him that Yuuto had asked her only to open the gate, Ruki already held her by her wrist, pushing their hands through the gate first. As there wasn’t any resistance anymore, he led them to the other side. When Yuriko peeked over her shoulder, she could still see the small clearance in front of the abandoned shrine and the shadows of the cloudy day, but on this side of the gate, it was night. The trees were tall, covering the sky and darkness lurked everywhere.
“I can’t believe we are here…” Yuriko whispered, still a bit shaken that against her promises they had already walked in. But since Yuriko wasn’t alone, it should be okay. With Ruki, nothing bad could happen to her, right?
“This is the Demon World.” Ruki frowned next to Yuriko. “I have not been in this section of the realm ever before, but without a doubt, this is part of Karlheinz-sama’s lands. Yet he has not mentioned any Kitsune living here.” He was silent for a moment, gazing around as if taking in their surroundings. “Still, I can smell them. Their scent is similar to yours but much thicker. I assume there is a dwelling area nearby.”
So, this was it. Now, Yuriko needed to find her brother but… how?
"Yuriko…" Ruki let out a growl and pushed Yuriko behind him at the same moment when the scent hit her nose. Footsteps came from their side. Yuriko placed her hand on Ruki’s shoulder and peeked as he turned to face the potential threat.
A young muscular man walked toward them. His hair was shoulder length, tied to a low ponytail… and strikingly similar color to Yuriko’s. Amber-yellow eyes glared at them.
"Not a step closer." Ruki lifted his hand as if fearing that Yuriko could dart from behind him.
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