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the-offside-rule · 3 months

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Lando Norris (McLaren) - Did She? Ft. Oscar Piastri

Requested: yes

Prompt: 44) "Give me another chance."

Warnings: angst, rivalry (which is fictional), sad ending

Lando had stormed into the paddock, frustration etched across his face and rage very evident in his eyes. Oscar however, followed, a smug grin playing on his lips. The press had been around them, taking photos and undeniably thinking of the catchy headlines they would be using for their insufferable articles. They quickly made their way into the McLaren hospitality. "What the hell was that, Oscar?" Lando snapped, trying to keep his voice down in an attempt to not attract too much attention. "Relax, Lando. It's just racing." Oscar replied, his tone nonchalant. "Just racing? You practically pushed me off the track!" Lando retorted, his eyes blazing with anger. Oscar chuckled. "Well, maybe you shouldn't be so easy to push around." He patted his teammates back. Lando pushed the Australian's hand away.

A few of the mechanics stood up in case they needed to intervene. "Maybe don't be a dick and just admit you had to cheat to stop me from passing!" Oscar arched a brow. "I mean, I had to fend of Y/n too. I don't-" Oscar noticed how Lando's face had changed once he mentioned the Aston Martin driver. Oscar chuckled. "Is this because Y/n chose me over you, mate?" Oscar smirked, knowing he had hit a nerve. "No. This is about you pushing me off the track."

Y/n and Lando had been insepersble the whole winter break and then suddenly once testing had begun, Oscar swooped in and took her. It annoyed Lando but considering him and Y/n agreed there wasn't anything going further than their winter fling, he had hoped it would turn into a spring fling and then a full blown relationship. "Well sorry Lando. I just don't believe you. I think it's over the fact that Y/n chose me."

"Did she?" He had practically squared up to his teammate now. The pair had been glaring at one another. Oscar raised an eyebrow, reveling in the opportunity to provoke his rival further. "Oh, she did. Believe me, she did." Lando clenched his jaw, struggling to maintain his composure. "It didn't seem like that last weekend mate, but whatever you think."

Oscar leaned in, his grin widening. "Sure, Lando. Keep telling yourself that." As the pit of jealousy grew deeper, Lando couldn't help but question his feelings. Was it about the race or something more personal?

Y/n stood in the media pen, smiling and laughing away at her good result. "I mean, obviously I couldn't have done it without the team. I just think I was incredibly fortunateto have the McLarens both occupied with eachother. That way I could-"

"Hey, can I grab you for a minute?" Y/n jarred to see Lando marching towards her, looking both determined and angry. "Im in the middle of an interview-"

"I don't care. Come on." Y/n looked back between her PR manager and the interviewer but soon found herself being pulled along to somewhere a bit more private; in between trucks. "What's this about? Im a busy girl." Y/n asked, slightly concerned. "Did you choose Oscar over me for a reason?" He asked, his vulnerability exposed. "Really? You pulled me away to talk about Oscar?" Lando nodded. "Oh yeah, because I'm after nearly ripping his fucking head off. Now please, just answer me." Y/n sighed. "Lando, it's not about choosing. Relationships are complicated, and I can't be reduced to a prize to be won."

Lando looked at her in disbelief. "When did you become a prize? It was meant to just be us and that was it. A quiet winter fling." He protested. "Lando, it's April. The winter is long over. I thought you would have moved on." She walked away, leaving Lando to just watch her. "Can you give me another chance?" She stopped dead in her tracks and turned to face him, her expression a mix of sadness and rage. "Lando, I don't think we should have even started this." Lando's heart sank, and he swallowed hard, unable to mask the pain in his eyes. "Why? What did I do wrong?"

Y/n took a deep breath, her gaze unwavering. "It's not about what you did wrong. It's about what I need." His brows furrowed, confusion evident in his eyes. "And what do you need that I can't give you?" Y/n hesitated before speaking, her words laced with regret. "I need someone who understands the pressures of this world, Lando. Someone who shares my passion for racing." He scoffed. "I am a driver. I share your passion, i understand the pressure. What more do you want from me?!" Y/n hesitated before answering. "I don't want anything from you! I like you, but I can't ignore the differences. Oscar and I, we just connect on a different level." Lando clenched his fists, the pain evident in his expression. "So, what, I wasn't enough for you?"

"It's not about you not being enough, Lando. It's about finding someone who complements me in a different way." Y/n explained, her voice tinged with regret. Lando scoffed, his disbelief turning into bitterness. "Complements you? Or is it just about the thrill of someone new?".Y/n looked away, unable to meet his accusing gaze. "Listen, dickhead. I ended it because I didn't want this from the start, I ended it when I did because I didn't want to hurt you!"

"But you did," Lando whispered, his voice filled with resignation. He wiped his eyes of the few tears that fell. Y/n reached to help, but he pushed her hand away. "Is he what you want, then?" Lando's voice cracked with emotion, his fear of the answer palpable. Y/n swallowed the lump in her throat, her silence speaking volumes. "I don't know, Lando. But right now, he is." The words hung heavy in the air, sealing their fate with an unspoken finality. Lando's chest tightened with despair, his heart shattered into a million irreparable pieces. "I'll go." She wanted to reach for him, but she refrained. How could she stand there, denying her love for him then to turn around and grasp him.

As for Lando, in that moment, he knew that some wounds never truly healed, and some loves were destined to remain forever beyond grasp.

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intogenshin · 8 months

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The Symbol of the City

I’ve noticed some interesting things in Fontaine that I want to share, but I haven’t had time to play any quests besides the main storyline so I’m doing it with the understanding that some of it might fall through. All corrections are welcome though.

This post will cover:

Fontaine history

The relationship between music and technology

The meaning of technology according to German philosopher Martin Heidegger

The influence of the 1927 silent film Metropolis in Fontaine’s narrative

How the Bible plays into all of it

Music & Technology

Firstly, the Fontaine symbol looks like 2 things:

A fountain and a retro futuristic city design.

At the same time, the design of the fountains in the city resemble a musical organ. The melusine named Blathine outside Opera Eclipse mentions that the pillars of water formed in the fountains are “like the music that plays in the background during an opera”, most likely referring to an organ.

On the other hand, a city works as a high expression of technological advance.

These two elements are closely tied to the history of the region. Remuria’s empire centered its development around the arts and intellectual fields (especially music), while Fontaine does it around machinery and engineering.

Music and technology are thus introduced as companion concepts.

It’s not the first time Genshin relates the two though: back in last year’s Lantern Rite event, it was revealed that madam Ping (alias Streetward Rambler) used to have a rivalry with Guizhong over the authenticity of music that is composed and played on an instrument and that which is produced by a mechanical invention.

In Guizhong’s opinion, while mechanisms were no substitute for human composers, they were yet capable of producing simple but fine melodies. But Streetward Rambler believed music to be an expression of the soul, an emotional enterprise that could never hope to be replicated by machinery. —Story Teaser: Echoes of the Heart

Eventually, Madam Ping changes her mind: Guizhong’s memory lived on through her invention, and madam Ping was able to express her feelings of grief accompanied by the tune in the bell she left behind.

But Streetward Rambler did not acquire [Guizhong’s bell] from Rex Lapis for the purpose of producing further funerary tunes. No, each time she rang it, it was to play the tune that Guizhong composed on it. The two once clashed over their beliefs about the meaning of music, who would have thought that with Guizhong’s passing and Streetward Rambler’s mourning, two tunes composed in discord would eventually become one harmonious composition?

That which is expressed through an instrument is not that different from that which is produced by a machine. While the musician uses their instrument to project their emotions as an extension of the soul, an engineer uses machinery to project their intellect as an extension of the mind.

Estelle: Truth be told, letting someone as feeble in body as I serve as a blacksmith is the main point of this machine. Estelle: Humans can use tools, and exquisitely-designed tools can make the impossible, possible. Estelle: Some say that all automated forgings are hollow and soulless. But if you ask me, the machine is just as much of a tool as a regular smith's hammer. Really, I would love to see those smiths knock metal into shape with their bare hands... —Semi-Automatic Forging quest

Music was the defining trait of Remuria’s identity as a nation, and technology is one of Fontaine’s.

Technology & Domination

King Remus built multiple fairways (perhaps like the pipes of an organ?) that he used to rule his nation, either literally or metaphorically with music, and conquered neighboring tribes in order to have full control of Remuria and avoid its prophesied demise:

The King, resting peacefully at the heart of the palace, listened closely to every melody and every note coming from every corner of the empire. Upon hearing any discord, the God King would correct it immediately with a pluck of his strings, bringing perfection to the symphony of his empire. To spread the harmonious symphony throughout the world, he built far-reaching fairways, which conveyed the melodies as never ending ripples from Capitolium to every corner that sat above the high waters.With his immortal fleet, Remus conquered all the islands on the high waters. Even the great dragon beneath the abyssal depths submitted to his power. Those were the best days since the end of earliest peoples, and eternal prosperity seemed so near at hand. He believed that as long as all the cities echoed with this greatest of songs, they would escape the judgment of fate and at last reach the land of eternal bliss. —The history of the decline and fall of Remuria

Fontaine is currently doing something similar, just that instead of conquering other people through the symbolic force of music, they’re asserting control over the land through first - the allegorical climate change they’re not preventing, and second - the developing of technology at the expense of the integrity, health and life of their own people:

Sir Arthur: Disaster! Disaster! At a recent public exhibition, the Babich Automated Analysis Engine suddenly exploded in a shower of gears, causing great injury and death to onlookers! Sir Arthur: Mr. Babich himself was severely injured and remains unconscious! Sir Arthur: Analysts' Guild President Marco Borja has opined that this tragedy was nonetheless an inevitable step on the path to progress, and that the Guild expresses its deep sympathies and condolences.

Musical instruments in Remuria function the same way machinery does in Fontaine, they are technology developed with the purpose to control by forcing the enemy tribes into submission or as a justification to exploit their workers.

Allegorical (or not so much) imperialism and capitalism, if you will.

These are precisely the dangers that German philosopher Martin Heidegger warned about technology in 1954 with his essay The Question Concerning Technology.

The Question Concerning Technology

Heidegger centered his work around the concept of “being” not as isolated sentience, but as a result of the relationship between a subject and its surrounding environment. He thought, for instance, that the term “ousia” (known as “essence” in philosophy) had been misinterpreted by previous philosophers and lost its real meaning, which he attributed to the conflicts of the modern era due to forgetting what it meant “to be”.

To put it simply, the phrase “I think, therefore I am” proposes the act of thinking is the essence of what it means to be, but Heidegger believed there had to be a state prior to the generation of that thought for the thought to be generated in the first place. A being exists with its environment, and that relationship between the subject and object is the essence of what it means “to be”.

However, it is hard to realize this reality of “being”. For example, when you’re doing an activity for long periods of time like writing or hammering a nail on the wall, you will eventually forget the existence of the pen or the hammer in your hand. At that point, it is not part of your reality even though it very much exists. Life in the modern era is the same, we become blind to certain parts of our existence in doing routinary tasks to survive until we interact with those parts.

So everything we perceive or interact with becomes “unconcealed”, but it’s a reality that’s defined by our own individuality, not an objective truth.

In this sense, the “essence” of technology is not anything technological, it’s not the machines or what’s produced with them, but something that goes deeper into its relationship with humanity.

Heidegger thought the essence of technology was neither a means to an end nor a human activity, but a way to reveal (or “unconceal”) reality.

Technology embodies a specific way of revealing the world, a revealing in which humans take power over reality. While the ancient Greeks experienced the ‘making’ of something as ‘helping something to come into being’ – as Heidegger explains by analysing classical texts and words – modern technology is rather a ‘forcing into being’. Technology reveals the world as raw material, available for production and manipulation. —Future Learn, The Technological View of the World of Martin Heidegger

Heidegger draws attention to technology’s place in bringing about our decline by constricting our experience of things as they are. He argues that we now view nature, and increasingly human beings too, only technologically — that is, we see nature and people only as raw material for technical operations. Heidegger seeks to illuminate this phenomenon and to find a way of thinking by which we might be saved from its controlling power —The New Atlantis, Understanding Heidegger on Technology

Machine-like People

The danger Heidegger warned about had to do with becoming a society that understands all aspects of reality through the technological lens: that both nature and people would be treated as nothing but resources to be used, like pieces of a machine.

All things increasingly present themselves to us as technological: we see them and treat them as what Heidegger calls a “standing reserve,” supplies in a storeroom, as it were, pieces of inventory to be ordered and conscripted, assembled and disassembled, set up and set aside. Everything approaches us merely as a source of energy or as something we must organize. We treat even human capabilities as though they were only means for technological procedures, as when a worker becomes nothing but an instrument for production. Leaders and planners, along with the rest of us, are mere human resources to be arranged, rearranged, and disposed of. Each and every thing that presents itself technologically thereby loses its distinctive independence and form. We push aside, obscure, or simply cannot see, other possibilities. —The New Atlantis, Understanding Heidegger on Technology

Fontaine has adopted this general worldview not only in relation to the workers, but also in the way they treat court cases as spectacles.

If Sumeru explored the question of what it means to be or what can be accepted as a living being (through stories like that of Karkata, Benben and Wanderer), Fontaine on the other hand seems to be asking what separates a living being from a machine when interpreted through the lens of technology, where workers are exploited as disposable objects and people’s tragedy is commodified for entertainment.

For King Remus also, those within his borders had to be controlled, and those outside had to be conquered.

Both Fontaine and Remuria are cities whose culture has become technologically driven.

When society adopts the technological lens —whether technology itself is involved or not— to understand themselves, their humanity is stripped from them. And do they not become just like a machine?

Gontharet: Those who always work and work will find themselves little different from clockwork machines. It is only through constant questioning and asking that we can forge a new path! Gontharet: Our history and present are all proof of this.

"All I have to do is put on my helmet, shut out the background noise, and carry out my orders." Freminet began to see himself as an unfeeling clockwork toy. —Freminet’s Official Introduction

Freminet, alongside Lyney and Lynette, is a member of the House of the Hearth, a secret Fatui organization composed of orphans who work for the Harbinger Arlecchino, who they call “father”, doing missions of espionage and other not so legal activities that more often than not risk their safety. It is unclear what exactly is Freminet’s role, but by the looks of it, he seems to feel less like a human and more like an automaton when carrying out his missions.

The City As A Symbol

(or: let’s get biblicaI)

There is no doubt that Remuria is based on the Roman Empire, but there’s another aspect to Fontaine that’s very intrinsically influenced by the Bible: the city as the epitome of human virtue and decadence.

God’s kingdom is represented as a garden. Adam and Eve are said to have wandered in the wilderness after they were kicked out. When their son Cain became jealous of his brother Abel, who was receiving God’s favor, he murdered him and was marked as a sinner.

Cain further isolated himself from God by running away and establishing the first city. A city in ancient times was just a group of homes, but what characterized it was the tall walls Cain erected as a means to protect himself from retaliation for his crime.

Cain’s city, much like Jerusalem and Babylon later, breeds a culture of violence and abuse, but also of man-made inventions like animal domestication, arts, and metalwork —aka, technology.

Those in power (starting with King David) always end up succumbing to their lowly desires, impulses and vices in Jerusalem. Babylon (which enslaved the Israelites) goes on to become not just a single city in its historical period, but the metaphorical and almost cyclical condition in which humanity condemns itself over and over again through the symbol of the city.

There are two main ways to deal with humanity becoming corrupt in the Bible: a flood or a messiah (mr Jesus The Christ for the Christians). The flood reboots everything and the messiah solution is more about accepting the city for its virtues and defeating sin through death and reincarnation, then God brings his garden into the world, so it’s like a Hannah Montana situation with the best of both worlds.

Anyway, let’s go back to Genshin:

After the first civilization was nuked with a flood, the survivors lived in the wilderness:

When the tide receded and the earth was revealed again, no cities nor civilizations now stood above the high waters. Survivors and the newborn alike lived amidst the forests and rivers, shorn of all knowledge and wisdom. Human lives were no different from those of wild animals on the earth or in the sea, driven on by the laws of nature — muddling through time with neither beginning nor end. Civilization and order were finally restored to the land named Fontaine the day the great king Remus descended upon Meropis in his golden Fortuna. He taught people how to farm and raise crops in the land, and built temples and cities with giant rocks to house the people. Most importantly, it was he who spread the beauty of music and art, which differentiated humans from other living things, causing them to see themselves as masters of all things. —The History of the Decline and Fall Remuria

Remus taught the people of what would become Remuria good things, but also reintroduced arrogance. And the cycle of Cain’s city was fulfilled again, with the nation causing their own destruction.

Remuria also is described with some kind of tower at its center, just like Babylon. And from the story of the Tower of Babel, this tower can be understood as the symbol of the city itself, the expression of human ingenuity.

I want this to be understood not as a direct reference to the biblical stories, but as a narrative parallel to an ancient story about the dangers of technology.

A city is an isolated concentration of humanity’s sins and virtues, surrounded by tall, imposing walls. A city gives rise to arts and technology, and it also breeds hedonistic desires and dangerous machinery.

I’d say the tall walls of Fontaine aren’t just to make the city look like a dam and annoy players who want to climb. And its technology seems on the right track for devastation.

Technology is not the enemy though

I said in the beginning that Fontaine’s symbol resembles a retro futuristic city. More specifically, both the symbol and the design of the city itself remind me of the futuristic envisioned city in Metropolis, a 1927 silent film by director Fritz Lang that has influenced the sci-fi genre to this day.

Metropolis is divided into two classes: the elite that lives on the surface, and the workers who live underground and produce the energy that powers the city.

(Sound familiar?)

The movie makes a point of depicting the workers moving mechanically, in a zombie like state, when they walk towards the machine they operate and while they work on them, as if they were parts of the machine themselves.

The son of the city’s master, Freder, ventures into the underground tunnels and discovers this reality for the first time. When a worker fails to operate the machine correctly, it suffers a malfunction that causes an explosion, leaving many victims behind. Freder is hit by the explosion and has a hallucination where the machine turns into Moloch, a pagan god in the Old Testament that had to be fed human sacrifices, while a group of slaves is being forced into its mouth, and then the workers behind them walk into it voluntarily.

A woman called Maria promises the underground workers that a mediator will eventually help them, as Maria believes the “head” (upper class) and “hands” (workers) just need a “heart” to communicate with each other. This mediator turns out to be Freder, who voluntarily takes the place of one of the workers and suffers the horrors of working in the machines in the flesh.

When Freder’s father finds out, he asks his local mad scientist —who has been working on a robot with human faculties— to give his creation the appearance of Maria, and orders this robot-Maria to twist the beliefs of the workers so they’ll antagonize the real Maria. Robot-Maria also shows up in the city as the figure of the Whore of Babylon, and inspires the upper class men to give in to their desires and vices.

Meanwhile, the workers are encouraged to revolt and destroy the very machines they’re enslaved by, against Maria’s ideology of unity. This destruction causes a flood that almost kills the workers’ children, but they’re saved by Maria and Freder.

The workers burn robot-Maria in the stake and later realize it was just a machine. Freder also fights the mad scientist at the top of a building from where the latter falls and dies.

At the end, Freder acts as a mediator between his father and a representative of the workers.

Ok but why was that whole summary necessary?

In essence, Metropolis is both a dystopian cautionary tale about the dangers of technology that we’ve discussed in this post, and also an allegory for the Bible (yes fr).

Maria is a Virgin Mary expy and Freder is the figure of the messiah (the “mediator”), Jesus Christ. He descends from the paradise above and suffers the pains of the people in the flesh. The mad scientist is a stand in for the devil, and Freder’s father represents the kings that continuously become corrupted in the history of Jerusalem.

Maria is who preaches true belief, while robot-Maria represents an idol of false belief that the workers are fooled by and also the sins and desires the upper class are enslaved by.

The flood that’s caused by the workers’ revolt is pretty much self explanatory in the biblical sense, you know what that is.

In the context of the industrial revolution, the narrative of the false belief aligns with what Heidegger would later address as the danger of technology, the inhuman lens through which the reality of the modern man is interpreted. The desire and sins the upper class is seduced by are of course capitalist interests.

Maria doesn’t condemn technology itself, she even tells the workers an altered version of the story of the Tower of Babel in which the tower couldn’t be finished because the intellectuals who designed it and the slaves who were building it just didn’t understand each other. The tower itself was an accomplishment of human ingenuity in her version.

Likewise, the movie closes with the hopes that this new understanding between head and hands will lead into a better, more fair society.

The figure of the messiah is not what’s important, but the ability to conciliate the power of governance and the working power in order to redirect the course of the city into an enterprise that serves humanity instead of using them like a machine.

Now, in the context of Fontaine, the energy that fuels the city and belief are more closely intertwined than in Metropolis.

The city is powered by Indemnitium, a form of energy which is produced by the belief in justice extracted from trials. We’d have to wonder, then, whether the integrity of this belief remains truthful, or if it has been replaced by the false idol of spectacle.

We know that at least one person in the city harbors discontent for the work, the spectacle and the Indemnitium energy:

Message in Cafe Lucerne’s board:

”For future generations, for our descendants, we must refuse work, refuse the trials, and oppose Indemnitium!”

King Remus in Remuria attempted to avoid the fate of their destruction, Fortuna, by conquering other tribes and establishing control over his people through a shared government, yet he ended up fulfilling the prophecy and condemning himself with those very decisions.

So I wonder if Fontaine might be in danger of self fulfilling their own prophecy should the workers of the city revolt against Indemnitium, since the members of the Narzissenkreuz Institute came up with it as a means to avoid their impending fate. And whether the people of Fontaine will survive their prophesied flood just like the children of the workers in Metropolis survived the flood the workers themselves caused.

#Genshin lore #genshin impact lore #Fontaine #long post #analysis #Fontaine lore #Remuria

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hellothere-generalangsty · 3 years

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The Bad Batch - Quart d’Heure Américain

Summary: In French, we use the expression “quart d’heure Américain” (lit. “American quarter”; I think it’s “Lady’s choice” in English) to talk about that moment during an evening out/ a party where they play slows and couples dance together (very sweet and romantic, yes)

So here is the Quart d’Heure Américain, Bad Batch Edition™

Pairing: Crosshair x reader; Echo x reader; Hunter x reader; Tech x reader; Wrecker x reader; the Bad Batch x reader

Reader description: f!reader [she/her], no real physical description

Word Count: 5463 words

CW/ TW: Nothing, just pure fluff and cute relationships (some established, one not quite yet) also there’s a LIL BIT of someone being sad/ a LIL BIT in pain BUT promise it doesn’t last and it gets all soft

Tags: @loth-wolffe @m-o-o-n-s-g-o-o-n-s @allamarisss

@imalovernotahater @murdertoothpick (if you want to be added to the tag list for future stories/ if you want to be removed and not tagged again, please let me know! )

Notes: This is for you all, because you deserve it and I hope it’ll sooth whatever you need soothed; and here is a quote that quite grasp the concept of this small fic

“Quand je danse, je danse” –Montaigne (“when I dance, I dance”; enjoy the moment and don’t think about anything else)

Crosshair: Something Stupid – Nancy Sinatra, Frank Sinatra (1177 words)

Had someone asked you beforehand, you never would have been able to tell that Crosshair was an amazing dancer. You didn’t expected him to invite you out that night, especially not when everyone in town was speaking about this Dancing Night. But he did, and now he was next to you, moving like he had done it all his life.

“You’re doing great, mesh’la,” he complimented as you tripped on your feet.

“I already told you,” you nodded a thank you when he helped you get back up, “I don’t understand Mando’a.”

Well, you did, but only a few words. You grew used to them, because Crosshair would use them all the time when speaking to you, but never once did he told you what they meant. So you did what every logical person would have done, and asked Tech.

“Well, mesh’la could be translated to ‘beautiful’, and cyare to something like ‘love’ or ‘my heart’. Why you asking?”

“I heard that on the radio, in a song once and I just wanted to know what it meant. Thanks Tech!”

And you had left him as soon as he was done explaining their meaning to you, because the more you stayed here, the more he could guess why you really asked. But you didn’t want Crosshair to stop calling you mesh’la or cyare. It sounded so peculiar when he would whisper it close to your ear as he would walk behind you; “out of my way mesh’la”, “you truly are a lost cause, cyare”. It wasn’t really a lie not to tell him you knew; more of a covered truth.

The song changed and went from a catchy tone to a slower, more sensual one. Crosshair waited for you to come to him before gently grasping your waist, a hand holding your own, fingers folded around yours. He pulled you closer, so close you could feel his chest moving according to his breath. You looked straight at him, trying to decipher his expression, to find any feeling uncovered behind those bewitching whisky eyes.

“Are you scanning me?” he softly asked.

“Maybe.” you confessed. “I want to know what’s going on behind this pretty face.”

It slipped out. You didn’t mean to say that; yes, he had a pretty face, yes you meant it, but-

“I think, about you mostly.”

Ho.

“You’re…pretty.” He sharply nodded, as a way to keep up his facade. You almost tripped over again, so taken aback by his little confession.

“Sorry,” you muttered, “sorry, I- that’s very… very kind of you to say.”

He didn’t say anything, but the grip on your waist tightened. You decided to try it, and slowly came to rest your head on his chest. You could hear his heart beating, muffled by the layers of skin and cloth. You felt a cold spot on your waist, and a hand brushing your hair off of your face, tucking them behind your ear before resting on your shoulder.

You couldn’t yet guess it, but he was craving for more, he wanted you closer to him, wanted to bury his face in your neck, hum your scent and kiss you all the way to your jawline, your cheek, the tip of your nose; and your lips.

But never once did he flinch, or let out any sign of his heart bleeding to feel you so close, yet so out of reach. Instead he held you there, slowly leading the dance, almost silently telling you to “move left, come back to me, and left again; great job mesh’la”.

He couldn’t yet guess it, but you were craving for more. More Mando’a’s nicknames, more gentle touch on your face and body, maybe a bit of appreciation in his eyes, a bit of love on his mouth.

And you thought you could hold on, spend the night glued to his body, feeling the warmth of his embrace, the delicacy of his moves; and still be able to pull out a straight face, to pretend mesh’la and cyare were unknown words to you, that your heart wasn’t racing at the sole thought of getting more.

But you didn’t.

“Ni kar’tayl gar darasuum”.

It slipped out tenderly, purposefully. And this time, he almost tripped on his feet.

“What did you say?”

You raised your head, taking a small step back to look at him in the eyes.

“I said I love you, but I guess my accent sucks a bit. I- I asked Tech about it last time.” You confessed in a small voice.

Crosshair couldn’t even speak anymore. He completely stopped moving, staring at you like you were the only one here, with him.

“Look, we can just…forget about it if yo-”

“Shut up.”

Your eyes widened at the command, and nothing could have prepared you to the devastatingly exquisite sensation of his lips brushing against yours before completely diving in. Nothing could compare to the fire in your belly, to the sweet bite on your lower lip, his teeth briefly pulling on it before letting go; and the overwhelming sensation filling your mouth as his tongue caressed yours in a heated, terribly slow kiss.

None of you could pull away; if he tried to release your lips, you would dive right back in, and if you gasped for air he would barely give you time to breathe before coming back to you. He couldn’t resist the urge to hold you tight in his arms, and you were too afraid of letting go so you firmly held his face against yours.

You felt his weight shifting to the left, then to the right, and once again you followed his lead. You felt it, the uncontrollable grin against your mouth, and the way he spin round with you, making sure no one else but you existed in that moment.

When you finally let go of each other, you were both heavily breathing, and a mutual stare was enough to get you both chuckling like kids.

Yes, you loved him, with all of your heart and soul, and you would gladly learn more Mando’a if it got you that type of enthusiastic reaction every time you did so.

“Your accent is actually quite cute,” he managed to tell you, and your smile only grew wider, and his eyes only got lovelier. “But maybe you should say it again, just in case it was luck.”

“I sure will, but I think I need you to tell me; how do you say it, again?”

He shook his head, both defeated and amused.

“Ni kar’tayl gar darasuum.”

“Ni kar’tayl gar darasuum”, you repeated, and he nodded in approval. “I think I won this round.”

“You did.”

He grabbed your arms and pulled you closer, leaving small misses on your forehead, your cheeks, your nose, and your lips. The song was over; it had been for a few minutes now; but you didn’t care. Crosshair was still dancing with you, his hands on your back, a smile on his face; and maker he was even more handsome when he smiled. You had him, and he had you, and you were glad you said something as stupid and childish, and sincere and deep as this.

I love you.

Echo: Everybody Loves Somebody – Dean Martin (1168 words)

“Alright, open your eyes.”

Echo’s voice tickled your ear, making you smile. Your eyes had no trouble getting used to the light outside; it was dusk already, and a small campfire was gently crackling a few meters away from the Havoc Marauder. Earlier that day, you made a stop on an isolated planet to get some supplies and land foot for the night. It was a quiet place, mostly villages and beautiful landscapes, covered in grass, moss, and flowers like you’d never seen before.

Echo asked you to wait inside, and it had been almost an hour, but now that you were standing here…

“Is it…Did you do that for me?”

“I’d dare say for us,” Echo smiled, “today is a special day for us, remember?”

Ho.

“You forgot, right?”

“Echo, I’m so sorry, I-”

“Don’t be! I kinda hoped you would, this way it could be a real surprise for you.”

You couldn’t quite tell what about him always got you flustered. Maybe the way he was fondly looking at you, or the softness in his voice when he whispered “Surprise!”, or how he left your side for a moment, bending over the blanket to grab a small package before giving it to you.

“I don’t have anything for you,” you quietly confessed.

“Take it.”

You accepted the gift, giving him another look of apology, but all you saw in his eyes was…something soft – soft and loving.

You carefully unwrapped the paper, exposing a Tooka plush, proudly wearing the colours of the Bad Batch.

“I thought it was more than time for you to have your own.” he said as he got closer to you, a smile glued to his face. “Do you like it?”

You barely nodded, too occupied trying to decipher your gift. The limbs were gracefully mixing a red and black pattern, and the symbol of the Republic’s paramedic had been carefully stitched in white, where the heart should be. You softly stroke it, the tip of your finger following the edges of the seam.

“I.. I love it,” you couldn’t help but smile at the attention. “I’ll call him Handsome Jr.”

“Whatever pleases you, love.”

You shifted you attention to Echo, the lovely grin on his face making your heart melt even more. You closed the gap between the two of you, wrapping your arms around his waist, just above his prosthetics. He held you against his chest, resting his chin on your head.

“I’ll get you something tomorrow, I’ll be up before the sun.”

“I already have everything I need, cyare.”

“Echo…,” you chuckled, “I don’t want you to get nothing. It’s an important date for us.”

“Well, if you insist…There is something you could do for me.”

“Anything, Handsome.”

He waited an instant, savouring your embrace.

“Would you dance with me? The way we did that night?”

You remembered that night. It was quite some time ago, before the Citadel. Echo invited you to the base you were both settled in for the night, on Corusant. His general gave his troopers a night off, and his first thought was to take you out on a date. You remembered the way Fives came up your office, panting, still fully armoured, and asked you to follow him. You didn’t know it at the time, but Echo and some of his brothers were taking care of decorating and preparing dinner.

You remembered the cantina being empty, except for a table with two plates and beautiful flowers in a glass way too small for them; and how every clone you had crossed path with in the hallway innocently smiled at you. They knew, obviously, but none of them made any comment, only wishing you a good night.

You remembered Echo, blacks on and slightly stylised for the occasion, offering his hand to you for a dance. And you repeated the answer you gave him that night.

“Of course, Handsome. I’d love that.”

He took a step back, looking at you intensely, falling in love all over again with the shape of your face, the light in your eyes, and the delicacy of your lips. He wanted to kiss them, so badly, but there was still something to do before that.

A static sound resonated behind you, and a voice emerged from it.

“Not that- The other one, Tech.” Echo threw a look at his brother, who was already changing the station, until he got the right one. He then barely let slip a “Pretend I don’t exist.” before disappearing inside the ship.

“Sounds familiar,” you joked, thinking about the way Fives did the same things all those years ago.

“Some things never change, right?”

You didn’t need to hear the end of the sentence; his eyes were speaking for him. He brought you closer, his prosthetic arm gently pressing your waist as his left hand held yours. The Citadel changed him, but deep down he was; and would always be, your Echo.

“You’re so beautiful, my pretty boy,” you said, stroking his cheek with your thumb. “Some things indeed never change.”

He chuckled and started moving his legs, inviting you to follow his lead. He never really had a chance to dance since he joined the Bad Batch, but tonight; tonight was all he needed. Holding you close, smelling your hair, delicately balancing you on your left, a step back, on your left, a step back…

“Your love made it worth waiting.”

You slowly raised your head until you could look at him. His eyes were shining, wet from the emotion, filled with adoration and fond memories of you both. You smiled, trying to swallow the knot forming in your throat. His hold on you was so gentle, his smile so sincere. You knew he was falling in love with you all over again. You knew, because you were too.

You let your hand slide to his neck, pushed yourself on your tiptoes until you could feel his warm breath tickling your face. He tightened his grip, pressing his lips against yours, abandoning himself in your arms, making you feel like nothing but you mattered.

His kiss was gentle, he took the time to taste you, for the first time, the hundredth, the thousandth; it didn’t matter. Even after all these years, he couldn’t get used to the softness of your lips, the warmth of your tongue, the dizziness in his head and the knots in his stomach when you were confessing, wordlessly, your love for him.

Nothing broke you apart. The sun could go down, the song could stop, but none of it mattered, because all you truly needed was each other.

“Waiting for someone like you.” you finally replied.

“Waiting for you, and only you.”

You kissed him again, taking great delight in the sensation of your pounding heart, of his tongue against yours, of his hand letting go of yours to slim on your waist, down to you hip, finding his way to the back of your pant.

He was all you ever needed.

Hunter: Ain’t No Mountain High Enough – Marvin Gaye (989 words)

“Everyone, out, let’s go.”

Hunter waved his hand toward the door, a tired, maybe a bit painful expression glued to his face. Hi brothers obeyed, knowing what it meant, and left the room in silence. You tried to copy them, because you knew Hunter was getting overwhelmed by his senses; it happened sometimes, and you knew you couldn’t sooth his pain by remaining with him. But he firmly pressed his hand against your chest.

“Not you.”

Echo closed the door behind the two of you, giving you a sympathetic look before disappearing behind the grey metal sliding. Hunter tilted his head back until it touched the cold wall behind him, letting a long sigh slip from between his lips.

“Could you turn off the light, please?” he barely whispered to you, eyes closed.

You nodded, even though he couldn’t say, and switched the light off. All that remained was the small, dim blue light above your head. Tech had it installed after a bad power cut that lasted three days. Hunted asked for the blue shade, because it was the one which was the less aggressive to his eyes. You liked it, because it nicely highlighted his features, blending his tattoo a bit more with his skin, making the marking look almost natural.

You could hear him, deeply inhaling, slowly exhaling; probably trying to sooth the pain away. After a moment, he opened his hand to you, and you gently took it, slightly stroking the skin on his palm with the tip of your thumb.

“Love you.”

You softly kissed his knuckles.

“Missed you, too.”

His voice was barely breaking the silence of the room, but you still heard him relaxing a bit more.

“Can you hug me, sweetheart?”

He couldn’t bring himself to open his eyes, even if he truly wanted to. He managed to cut off sound and light, because he wanted to focus on your touch, and your touch only. And it felt great when your arms delicately wrapped him, when your body pressed against his, holding still as you listened to his heartbeat.

“Is it okay like this?” you asked, and he nodded, a light smile on his face. “I love you too.”

He straightened up his head, blindly stroking your back, his hand getting lower and lower…

“I see what this was all about.” And the smile in your voice betrayed you, and the chuckle he let out showed you he felt a bit better.

“I just wanted some time with you, sweet thing” Hunter stated, innocent.

“Well, here I am now, pretty boy.”

He finally opened his eyes, taking a few seconds to get used to the lighting, but immediately shifting his attention to you, your face. You were another kind of beautiful; the kind he could hold against him at night when he had troubles sleeping; the kind that could sit on his lap, telling him all about your day while he stroked your hair; the kind of beautiful that he never knew he could have.

He gave you a soft kiss, humming your scent as his lips brushed yours, and you tried as hard as you could not to make it too much for him. But how could you, when he tightened his embrace, humming to you that song you liked so much, when you could feel his warm breath against the crook of your neck, and his low, slightly raspy whispering in your ear.

“From that day on, I made a vow…” a kiss on your skin, “I’ll be there when you want me…” another kiss, gentle, loving.

He pushed himself away from the wall, his head buried against you, singing to you the way you liked it, and it came naturally to you both. He balanced you one side, you came back and led him to the other side, and you kept going like this, following the low rhythm of his voice, barely giggling when he would – more or less in a dramatic and theatrical movement – bend you over like in those holomovies, pressing kisses against your neck, your jawline, crawling his way back to your mouth.

That mouth. Hunter missed it so much, the way you moved it, the softness of your lips, the warmth of your tongue, and the tight embrace as you tried to remember each curve, each spot; barely biting his lip to let you know you were here, you missed him too.

And you couldn’t help but fall in love again when he kept humming against you, when he led your hands to his lower back, a grin painting itself as they slid down the back of his pants.

“I love your heart,” he told you, lips on your skin, “the way it beats. I hear it pumping faster when I hold you, and- maker, I love it.”

He abandoned your neck for a moment, diving into your eyes like it was the first time ever, hypnotised by the blue reflection on your iris.

“I love you, the way you feel under my fingers,” he touched your face with the tip of his thumb, “the way your brush your hair over your shoulder, how you always come back to me when the lights are out and the night is still; I love you and your smile,” you granted him one, tender and oh so caring, “and your eyes, and your mouth. I love how you move your hips when you dance with me, how you crave for closeness, and how I can’t do anything but offer it to you every time, all the time.”

And you knew words couldn’t possibly offer a good answer, so you simply hummed back.

“Nothing could keep me from getting to you, baby.”

He let out a sweet laugh, kissing your nose and the top of your head, seeking for your embrace once again as you led him dancing.

“I know, sweetheart.”

And I love you for that, too.

Tech: My Guy (Single Version) Mary Wells (1078 words)

You didn’t expected Tech to ask you out tonight. He was usually quite content living around the Marauder, but when you walked next to that clothing shop, something ticked in him. He dragged you in, told you all about the different tissues, how the colours were applied, how the stitches on this dress were obviously done by Twi’leks because you see that little knot? This is a signature from the crafters, more precisely from the members of a tribe that moved around…

You loved hearing him talking. Sometimes you would ask him a question, fully aware of the answer, simply because you were eager to hear it coming from him. And every time, without any hesitation, he would answer with as much precision as possible. He probably didn’t know it, but it was one of the reason you fell for him.

“What about this one, cyar’ika?”

“This one would fit you perfectly.” he had held the dress against your body, bending his back to get a better look at it. “The colour matches your skin tone and the shape would really highlight the curves of your hips.”

“Then I’ll take this one.” You had nodded with a smile.

And now, a few hours later, you were wearing said dress while walking to the counter of the restaurant to order another drink. As the bartender was pouring a blue liquid in a fancy glass, a man smoothly accosted you.

“Were you sculpted out of Kyber crystal? Because you sure bring some light in here.”

“Thanks, but it’s mostly because my cyare chose that dress for me,” you confessed.

“Well, he sure have good tastes,” he took a step back and pursued, “may I ask which one of these…?”

He threw a look at the tables around, and you pointed to the one where Tech was visibly waiting for you, waving when he noticed you looking at him.

“Is it…Is it him?”

“It is indeed,” you fondly smiled.

“Well, at least he got some taste in dresses and women,” he conceded, visibly surprised by his “intellectual” look. But you couldn’t care less, because he didn’t had Wrecker’s body, or Hunter’s features; but he had soft shapes and sweet lips, he knew everything there was to know, and even more, because he loved learning almost as much as he loved you.

You grabbed your drinks and started walking away, only turning around to slide a little “Glad you recognise it” before returning to your table. When you pushed his glass in front of him, Tech gently grasped your hand.

“Thank you for the drink,” he glanced at your body, a little something lightening his eyes, “and for buying that dress. You really are the prettiest.”

“I couldn’t be that pretty if I didn’t have you to tell me all about cloths, you know.”

“Love, you could wear sheets and you’d still be the most beautiful person I’d ever seen.”

You slightly bent over, bringing his hand close to your lips, kissing his knuckles as a thank you. There was a brief silence, Tech analysing every inch of your face, so focused on the curves of your lips and the shape of your eyes that he stopped talking.

And you heard it. The soft music playing in a corner of the room. When you looked behind Tech, you noticed a jukebox, and a few people dancing. You got up, pulling on Tech’s arm to drag him with you to that part of the room. He tried to protest, but the way you moved in that dress, how it fell oh so delicately on your knees… He couldn’t resist.

He grabbed your waist, offering you a soft kiss on the cheek as you started swinging in rhythm, left, right, left, right, and a turn. In a second, you were barely touching his hand, and then you were pulled against him, spinning round until you crushed in his arms.

He chuckled, bewitched by your smile, your movements, and you could tell he only had eyes for you. Truth be told, he was all you could focus on too. Nothing could take your attention off your guy, because nothing could equal his lovely smile or the soft kisses he landed on your lips every time he pulled you against him before letting you spin away in rhythm.

“Cyar’ika, tell me all about dance.” You asked, panting a bit.

“Well, you have to be more precise, because there are a lot of dances out there,” he laughed, and you felt your heart melting at the warmth of his voice.

“Then tell me about all of them. Tell me about this one,” and you wrapped your arms around his neck, breathing slowly to calm your racing heart.

“This one would be a form of slow dancing, quite far from the twists and swings you did earlier,” he confessed in your ear, making you shiver. “but initially it was a- well, it depends of the planet actually, but it was originally a ritual to make official a relationship between different people.”

“So if you danced with someone, it meant you had a certain relationship with them?”

He firmly grabbed your waist, lifting you for a few seconds as he turned round.

“Exactly, it meant you shared a profound bond with them, that you were able to get comfortable with them being very close to you…”, he let you spin away from him, “or very far.”

You proudly smiled at him, letting go of his hand and taking a step back. He understood what you intended to do and grounded himself, catching you up without any problem as you run into his arms.

“Well,” you muttered in the crook of his neck, “I don’t want to be far from you, smart boy.”

“And I don’t want you away from me, pretty girl.”

You lifted your head to look at his eyes, filled with love and appreciation. The music stopped as you filled the gap between the two of you, kissing him with the same energy you had dancing. You could feel him smiling against your lips, carrying you like you weighted nothing until you let go, sliding back onto your feet.

You kissed him once again, a gentler contact, taking your time to memorize the shape of his mouth, the soft touch of his hands on your hips, the smooth tone he used to tell you how fitting this dress was.

Yeah, nothing could compare to your guy, your Tech.

Wrecker: You Aksed Me To Be Yours – The Tymes (972 words)

You knew the mission was rough when Wrecker struggled to give you a full smile as you entered the cockpit. He was sitting there, all alone, and your heart got tight when you heard his low “hi, mesh’la”.

“You want to talk about it?”

He refused with a shake of his head, visibly upset.

“Do you want me to leave you alone?”

“No, I want you to stay. I- I need company.”

You quietly nodded, offering your hand to him, which he held close to his heart. You kissed the top of his head, softly rubbing his check with your free hand. He closed his eyes for a moment, letting himself rest on the embrace, taking a long, deep breath.

“I’ve missed you,” he whispered, “t’was a long day without you.”

“I’m here now.”

The remark made him smile a bit, as he realised that you were indeed here with him. He pulled you closer to him to hug you, straightening in his seat so you wouldn’t have to bend too much to snuggle in his arms.

“You smell good. You always smell good, it’s amazing.”

You slightly blushed, letting out an amused sigh. Even when things went wrong, he always found something positive to comment on. People usually looked at him as the “big dummy”, but you knew how sensitive and emotionally invested he really was, under all the muscles and loud exclamations.

“Do you think we could, like…get up for a bit?” he asked, hesitant.

“Sure, everything’s fine?” You let go of his grip and helped him get up. He wrapped his arms around you, resting his forehead on your shoulder.

“Yeah, t’s’all fine,” he murmured, “I just wanted us to stand.”

You rubbed his back, slow movements tracing imaginary lines and shapes against his blacks. He let out a sigh, tired yet satisfied. You felt the upper part of his body move; slightly at first, rocking from one side to the other. When he felt you following his lead, and with the absence of any question or remarks, he marked a more regular pace in his balancing.

You started humming, lips barely touching the skin on his neck, your warm breath tickling him until a light shiver shook his back. You left kisses, here and there, still humming the song you heard on the radio earlier that day. It was a beautiful ballad, something sweet about love and closeness. You found parts of Wrecker in the lyrics, and knew you’d have to sing it to him.

It wasn’t the first time Wrecker did something like that. Usually he would do it before going to bed, or after a long time away from you. He would grip you tight, whispering soft words to your ear, telling you how much he missed you, how pretty you were, how lucky he felt to have you in his life. But this time, you wanted to make that first move.

“I see that love is there, so real and so true…”

You felt his fingers tighten, then relax. The rocking slowly turned into a dance, moving step by step, never following a precise direction. Your voice was a balm to him, healing the wounds no one could see, covering his heart with warmth and love.

He slightly let go of you, just enough to dive into your eyes, scrutinizing the details in your iris, the way light reflected on them, adding to the sparkle they usually carried. You could see how his attention shifted from your eyes to your lips, then your eyes again, and the delicacy in his silent ask. You gave him your most heartfelt smile, and he leaned toward you, kissing you in a tender, desperate way, as if something or someone would come in at any moment and rip you both away from each other.

You let his tongue meet yours, dancing the way your bodies were. His hands left your waist, raising to cup your face and pulls you even closer to him. You held his wrists, preventing him from pulling away, savouring the taste of love coming out of his mouth.

He only broke the kiss when he truly needed to breathe, deeply inhaling and exhaling. You couldn’t stop a chuckle, to which he grinned.

“I know, I know…”

“How do you expect to kiss me if you faint?”

“I don’t know!” he laughed, his nose wrinkling in such a lovely way. You could read through him like an open book, and now you just knew he was contemplating how beautiful, and soft, and delicate you were. “I don’t know, I just want you. I want to hold you, and kiss you, and dance with you all night.”

You pecked his scarred cheek, nodded in approval.

“Then let’s dance all night, and hold onto each other, and kiss you breathless.”

He relaxed the tension in his shoulders, visibly happier than when you arrived.

“Can you sing that song again? I really liked it.”

His eyes gleamed with happiness when you took back where you stopped. You couldn’t tell if you got all the lyrics right, but it didn’t matter to Wrecker. You were here, ready to spend the whole night on your feet just to make him feel better, and it was already working so well. But he never told you so, too content to hug you and kiss you and feel you.

And you, of course you knew. But you played along, because you loved him so dearly, so profoundly that you could spend every night in this cockpit, humming and swinging with him, as long as you could feel his breath on your neck, his hands stroking your hair and your back, his lips pressing against your skin, where he knew he could get a shiver from you.

“Thank you, cyar’ika.”

“Anything for you, ner Wrecker.”

Anything for you.

________________

I hope you guys enjoyed it; it's really not the angsty stuff I was supposed to work on (that I will do now) but I guess I just had a soft spot for the boys tonight and the songs I listened to didn't help getting over this idea!

#the bad batch fic #tbb fic #crosshair x reader #echo x reader #hunter x reader #tech x reader #wrecker x reader #the bad batch x reader #the bad batch #soft batch #soft tbb #sw writing #mesa writes #the bad batch writing #Soft Hour for the Boys

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teenwolffan-with-nolife · 3 years

Text

The Witch and The Wolf Pt.59

Word Count: 2,980

Characters: Derek Hale, Scott McCall, Liam Dunbar, Lydia Martin, Chris Argent, Jordan Parrish, Alan Deaton, Mason (i totally dont know his last name oof), Cora Hale (mentioned), Isaac Lahey (mentioned), Reader

Pairings: Derek Hale x Witch!Reader

Warnings: angst, cliffhanger, near-death

A/N: okay so i was running late so the last 1,000-ish words kinda suck but we dont have to talk about it

A/N 2: holy crap one more part!!!

Masterlist Series Masterlist

It had been a little over a week since your conversation with Melissa, taking you by surprise. Having kids wasn’t something that you thought much about, life in Beacon Hills was so hectic, you and Derek only had a little time with just the two of you, and having a kid was not only unexpected but also very time-consuming. Your head was spinning, you didn't know what to do. You knew you had to tell Derek eventually, you could only hide something like this for so long before something bad happened.

The two of you were laying in bed, with Derek wrapping his arms around your stomach while you had your back towards him.

He didn't know you were awake and you didn't know he was either.

The Deadpool was over, but that didn't mean Lydia’s prediction was wrong, and it didn't mean Derek wasn't still dying.

You turned to face him, seeing his eyes open as you frowned slightly.

“Why are you awake?” you asked him.

“Why are you awake?” he replied.

You stroked his cheek softly before he pressed a small kiss to your hand.

“What’s on your mind?” he asked.

“A lot,” you shrugged.

“Well, I can’t sleep until you do,” he replied.

You had to find a way to figure out how he felt about kids, but without being obvious, not knowing how he’d react.

Maybe later

“Derek, it's been a week since the Deadpool ended,” you started, while he nodded softly.

“Do you think that everything is supposed to be back to normal?”

“What's your definition of normal?” he replied.

“Do you think that you’re safe now? Because the Deadpool is over?”

“It’s been a week of nothing. Why are you still stressed out?”

“Because you can still be dying and now we’re just laying here doing nothing to try and help you!” you exclaimed, slightly frustrated.

“Besides losing my powers, I feel fine, (Y/N),” he tried to assure you.

“You still lost your powers, Derek. That doesn't just happen,” you said.

“I don't want to get into this argument with you again,” he said.

“We put it off for a week. Lydia predicted that you're going to die,” you said.

“(Y/N),” he started.

“No, don’t (Y/N) me. Banshees aren't ever wrong,” you shook your head.

“There’s a first for everything,” he scoffed.

You rolled your eyes, before jumping, hearing the alarms going off as you shot up.

You saw Derek reach for his gun, while you slowly got out of bed.

“Stay behind me,” you whispered.

“I’m the one with the gun,” he argued.

“And I’m the one with the functioning powers!” your eyes glew purple as you took slow steps forward, walking to the door.

You could hear the sound of Derek’s heartbeat, along with another’s coming from the other side of the door.

You pulled open the door, tensing up before seeing Lydia on the other side, soaking wet, while she gave you a blank expression.

“Lydia?”

---

“I just think that you should wait for me, Chris,” you whispered into the phone, making sure Derek wasn't around to hear.

“I’m going now, (Y/N). I don’t want to kill Kate or Peter. But I know you do,” you rolled your eyes, sighing softly.

“Chris-”

“I will keep you updated on what happens. But for now, focus on Derek. Have you heard from Deaton yet?” you went quiet for a second, before sighing.

“No, not yet. Last I heard he was talking to Doctor Valack at Eichen. I’m going to the school in a bit to get Lydia, and then we’re gonna go to Eichen,” you replied.

“Okay. Stay safe, kiddo,” Chris said.

“Yeah, you too,” you hung up the call, running your fingers through your hair.

You felt guilty about lying to Derek, it made you feel sick. Of course, that was probably the pregnancy, which was yet another thing you were hiding from him.

It was obvious that you hated Peter, but maybe there was some more reason as to why he was working with Kate.

You walked out of the room, receiving texts from both Cora and Isaac.

You rolled your eyes, putting your phone away before overhearing Scott talking to Derek.

“I know about Lydia’s visit here last night,” you stayed quiet, listening to the conversation.

“Go to school, Scott,” Derek replied.

“I just want you to know. If anyone can figure out what's going on with you, it’s Deaton.”

Crap

You didn't tell Derek about Deaton going to find Dr. Valack, and trying to figure out what was wrong with Derek.

“I don’t doubt it. I’ll see you later on,” you heard the loft door close as you walked down the stairs. while Derek sighed, crossing his arms.

“You’re endangering someone else’s life to try and save mine,” you could feel your chest tightening as you looked down.

He scoffed, shaking his head.

“Please, stop,” he asked softly.

You felt tears well up in your eyes.

“No matter what you say, I’m not okay with you dying, and I’m not going to be okay with it,” you replied.

He stroked your cheek softly, pulling you in.

“I need to go get Lydia, I’ll see you later on,” you said softly.

He pressed a kiss to your forehead, before pulling your hand softly.

“I love you, (Y/N),” he said softly, his voice barely above a whisper.

“I love you too,” you wiped away your tears, before kissing him and leaving the loft.

---

“I’m assuming you didn't tell Derek about Deaton?” Scott stood across from you in the hallway of Beacon Hills.

“Nope,” you shook your head.

“Oh, I’m sorry about that,” he apologized.

“Don’t worry about it, he had to know sooner or later,” you shrugged.

“Yeah, is Lydia ready to leave yet?” you looked at the clock, shrugging.

“Oh my god,” you saw Mason rushing to you and Scott, while you frowned.

“Uh, there’s something wrong with Liam,” he started, while you tensed up.

“What happened?” you asked.

“I don't know, but he’s trying to lift 300,” he explained.

You ran to the room, Scott and Mason close behind you while you could hear Liam yelling out in pain.

You pushed the door open, your eyes going wide to see the bar pressing down on his chest.

“Vitae,” your eyes glew purple as you used your powers, lifting the weight off of Liam and placing it back onto the stand.

Liam pushed himself off the bench, falling to the side, coughing loudly as Scott ran to him.

“You don't have to be with us, that's fine. But don’t push away your friends,” you saw Liam’s gaze go past you, staring at the wall as you frowned, before realizing.

“Liam, are you hallucinating the berserkers?” you asked softly.

You could see a pained expression on his face before it changed to anger.

“No, I'm fine!” he stood up, walking away from you and Scott.

“How could you tell?” Scott frowned.

“I don’t know. He just looked scared,” you replied.

Scott went quiet, raising an eyebrow for a second, confused.

“What? What is it?” you asked.

“Sorry, I thought I heard something for a second,” he shook his head.

“Something like what?”

“Like a heartbeat. It doesn't matter. I’ll see you later on,” you hid the expression from your face till he walked away, letting out a breath of relief.

“Are you okay?” Lydia walked to you.

“Yup, now let’s go,” you grabbed her arm, taking her with you as the two of you left the school.

---

“So they think he’s paralyzed?” you asked, while you and Lydia stood around Deaton.

“Yeah, and if he doesn't snap out of it, they’ll admit him,” she replied.

You ran your fingers through your hair, before sighing.

“Well, let me see what I can,” she nodded while you put your hands on either side of Deaton's forehead.

You clenched your jaw, taking deep breaths as your head began pounding.

“Cogitationes revelare.”

You could barely make out the flashes, the one thing you could see was a church.

It was La Iglesia

You backed away from Deaton, taking deep breaths.

“What was it?” Lydia asked.

“Something to do with La Iglesia,” you sighed.

“The church?”

You nodded softly, before wrapping your arms around your stomach, taking deep breaths.

“Are you okay?” Lydia asked.

You nodded your head softly, before sighing.

“Don’t worry about it,” you said.

You heard your phone begin to ring, while you frowned, receiving a call from Parrish.

“Parrish?” you answered.

You had trouble making out his words, most of it was distorted.

“I can't hear you,” you frowned.

“Argent!” he yelled.

You immediately felt yourself stiffen.

“What about him?” you asked.

“...Peter…. Tunnels… Vault…” his voice kept getting cut off as you felt a sense of fear wash over you.

“I-I’m on my way,” you hung up the phone, before telling Lydia to stay with Deaton as you ran out of the room.

---

You traced Parrish’s phone, running into some old stormwater drainage system. There was water dripping from all around the place as you froze, seeing Parrish standing with Chris in the distance.

Your heart stopped, seeing something buried deep into Chris’ stomach, with Parrish trying to help him.

“Oh my god,” you ran to him, putting your hand on the bent pole that ran through him, and through the wall.

You saw the blood dripping from his mouth, his face, and body in pain while you saw tears visible in his eyes.

“Go… C-Call an ambulance,” you said to Parrish.

“Maybe I shouldn't leave-”

“Go!” your eyes were purple as he paused, nodding his head before running away.

“C-Chris, can you hear me?” your voice wavered as you stroked his cheek.

“Yeah, I can,” he replied.

“You should've waited for me!” you exclaimed.

He didn't reply, instead, you heard his shaky breath.

You put your hand on the pole, taking a deep breath as you tried to control your tears, feeling your heart racing.

“Traho,” you pulled on the pole, using all your strength and magic as you clenched your jaw, hearing Chris yelling out.

It didn't even budge.

“I-I’ll try again,” you took another deep breath, pulling on the pole.

“Stop! (Y/N)! Please, stop,” he begged.

“No, we have to save you,” you shook your head.

“How are we gonna do that? You can’t move this pole either,” he sighed.

“Then we’ll keep trying until we get it,” there were hot tears in your eyes as you looked up at him.

He sighed, reaching for your hand softly.

“(Y/N), maybe this is supposed to be a sign,” he said softly.

You froze before frowning.

“I don’t understand what you mean,” you scoffed.

“The Argent name has been around for four hundred years. Maybe it's time it came to an end,” more and more tears came to your eyes, while there was an expression of anger on your face.

“Y-You think you’re just gonna give up? T-That this is the end? A-Are you insane? Are you stupid? This isn't the end. Parrish is calling for help. You’re gonna be okay. I-I’ll call S-Scott,” you were shaking, looking down at your hands which were covered in his blood, while you gasped softly, closing your eyes.

You gripped onto the pole again, before he stopped you.

“(Y/N). Enough,” he shook his head.

“No! I need you, Chris. You’re not giving up. Not now,” maybe it sounded selfish, but there was no one else in the world that meant more to you and Chris, not even Derek.

Chris had always been there for you and always cared for you. He was your father.

“Then maybe it’s time for you to move on,” he said softly.

“No. You need to stay alive. You need to fight this,” your voice broke as you continued to pull on the pole, hearing him yell out in pain.

“Chris, you need to fight this. You’re the last Argent. You always told me that I needed to fight because I was the last of my bloodline, so why not you? Fight to stay alive. For Allison. For Victoria. P-Please, Chris,” he went quiet, more and more tears in his eyes as he stroked your cheek softly.

“It doesn't matter if I choose to give up or not. I’m stuck like this,” he shook his head.

You took a deep breath, shaking your head.

“I have an idea,” you said softly.

“What idea?” you saw the concern in his face as you took a deep breath.

If you could heal like a werewolf, then there was no reason why you shouldn't have the strength of one too.

You can do this, for Chris

Your eyes glew a light blue, while you slowly gripped onto the pole once again. You focused all your power and energy on the pole.

“(Y/N)?”

You took a deep breath, while you continued pulling onto it as hard as you could.

You could hear Chris’ yells while you tried your hardest to focus, letting out a grunt as you continued pulling.

The pole shifted, you could feel it coming out slowly, before you pulled as hard as you could, pulling it out of Chris as he gasped, falling to the floor while you immediately caught him, your eyes reverting to their normal color.

“Consuo,” you held him up, while he leaned onto you.

“H-How did you do that?” he asked.

“Shh, we have to get you out of here. Come on.”

You continued to hold him up, while the two of you rushed out of the sewer.

---

“You should really go home and change, (Y/N),” Melissa sat next to you, while you shook your head.

“I’m not leaving him,” you said.

“He’s safe,” she replied.

You sat next to Chris’ bed at the hospital, your clothes and body completely soaked in his blood.

“I’m not moving until he wakes up,” your voice wavered before she sighed.

“Fine. How do you feel?” she asked.

“I feel fine,” you muttered softly.

“(Y/N),” she pulled you in softly, wrapping her arm around you.

Your eyes watered as you continued to stay stiff, trying to block out anything and everything.

You saw Argent stir slightly, while you tensed, standing up.

“Chris?” you asked softly.

You walked to his side, stroking his cheek softly.

“How do you feel?” you asked.

“Like I was run through with a pole,” you scoffed slightly, reaching for his hand.

“Are you going to tell me how the hell you did that?” you could immediately see the worry in his face.

You knew you would have to tell him.

“Uhm, I figured if I could heal, then maybe I could use werewolf strength too,” you muttered.

“What? Are you turning into a werewolf?” he tensed, sitting up slightly before he winced.

You shook your head no, taking a deep breath.

Just say it, (Y/N). It's Chris

“I’m pregnant,” you said quickly.

You couldn't read the expression on his face, as you clenched your jaw.

“I gave Allison the safe sex lesson, I didn't think I needed to tell you too,” you sighed, rolling your eyes.

“Chris-”

“Who else knows?” he asked.

“You, Melissa, Cora, and Isaac,” you replied.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

You nodded slightly, letting out a shaky exhale.

“I’m happy for you,” he gave you a small smile as you shook your head.

“I don’t know what to do,” you ran your fingers through your hair.

“I think you need to start off by telling your boyfriend,” you nodded softly.

“I still don't know how to say it. And we got into this argument today, a-and he’s dying,” you stopped yourself, your eyes watering slightly.

“Hey, it’s gonna be okay, (Y/N). No matter what argument you get into, you still love each other and you’re both strong enough and smart enough to figure this out.

You sniffled softly, nodding your head before you heard someone knock at the door, frowning slightly.

Derek walked into the room, while you tensed slightly.

“Melissa called me,” he said.

He walked to you, wrapping his arms around you. He turned to look at Chris.

“Are you okay?” he asked Chris, while he nodded.

“Are you okay?” he turned to you before you nodded as well.

“Let’s go home,” he said softly.

“I think I should stay with Chris-”

“Go home, (Y/N),” Chris interrupted.

“But-”

“Go,” he said again.

You nodded softly, pressing a kiss to his forehead before making your way out of the hospital, wrapping your arm around Derek.

---

You continued to hold his hand while he parked his car, turning to face you.

“You’ve been really quiet the ride back,” he said.

You shook your head, sighing.

“I’m just tired,” you said softly.

“Well, maybe it’s time for us to take some rest. I was thinking a movie, maybe I’ll make you some dinner,” he raised an eyebrow.

“A date night?” you asked.

“Why not?” he replied.

You chuckled softly, nodding your head.

“It’s been a while,” you said softly.

“Which is exactly why we need one,” he said.

You nodded softly as he smiled.

“Well,” he got out of the car, making his way around to open the door for you, reaching for your hand.

“Let’s go then?”

You held his hand, pressing your lips against his.

“I love you, Derek,” you said softly.

“I love you too,” he led you inside the building, while you wrapped your arm around his waist, using the elevator.

As you exited the elevator, you could immediately smell something. It was blood. Your face dropped, while you pulled open the loft door.

“Oh my god,” you could see some blood spilled on the ground, lights flashing as the alarms went off. Everything was broken, as well as the windows.

Scott and Kira were gone.

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timeaftertime-chriscornellfanfic · 4 years

Photo

Chapter 24 - Realize, Sweet Babe, We Ain’t Never Gonna Part

Seattle Washington, April 9 1990

(Andi is 20, Chris is 25)

ANDI: I wake to the bright July sun as it pours through the tall window of our bedroom. I open one eye and lift my head glancing at the clock to see that it was only 7:30am. Why does it have to be so bright so early in the morning? I groan and smush my face back into the pillow, my curls covering whatever the pillow wasn't and hear the bedroom door slowly open. I can hear Chris enter the room as the old hardwood floor slightly creaks. I keep my eyes closed, attempting to fall back to sleep but I feel him climb up on to the edge of the bed, playfully pulling the black sheet down over my body, revealing my black lacy panties.

"You awake beautiful?" He asks, his voice raspy from his performance at The Moore Theatre last night. It was his first gig since the European tour and it was fucking amazing. The only thing is that he and Jason were fighting the entire time, and Jason fucked up a few times but other than that, Chris was just 'on ' you know?

I let out a muffled groan as he moves over top of me, his rough fingers brushing across my back, moving my curls out of the way and places his lips between my shoulder blades, his morning stubble prickling me .

"No, I'm not awake... so sleepy," I say into the pillow and I hear him chuckle as he places sweet kisses up to the back of my neck.

"Well I hope this will wake you up," He says in my ear and as I turn to look up at him, pushing my mess of curls out of my eyes, I see him holding a small simple diamond ring between his fingers.

"Chris?" I say, my voice still full of sleep. I sit myself up, using the pillow to shield my bare chest as he holds the ring out to me kneeling in just his blue plaid boxer shorts, his curls messy from sleeping, falling across his gorgeous blue eyes.

"I know it's not much... it's pretty much all I can afford right now but... If you're going to be my wife, you need a ring so... " He trails off as he looks down at the ring and then looks back at me.

We still haven't told anyone that we're engaged because he wanted to keep it a secret. I think I know why he did now that he is holding this beautiful ring out to me.

"You still wanna marry me right?" He asks raising his eyebrow at me.

"Yes, Chris," I laugh. I hold my hand out to him with an excited smile on my face and he slips the ring on my finger. I then move the pillow from my chest and practically fall into his arms, threading my fingers through his curls and pressing my lips to his. He chuckles against my lips but then deepens the kiss as I flip him over so that I'm on top of him.

"Good, Now I can go pee," I giggle as I pull away from his lips and push myself away from him as he gives me a bewildered look.

"Hey, wait a minute, " Chris laughs reaching out for me as I quickly climb out of bed laughing, my curls falling across my face.

"I'll only be a sec - "I giggle as I make my way to the bedroom doorway but without warning, I am instantly slipped into another time and place once again.

*****

CHRIS: "Babe?" I call out as I see Andi disappear before my eyes, the diamond ring bouncing on the hardwood floor making a high pitched dinging sound before landing on the lace of her black panties. I sit up and run my fingers through my roots saddened and worried about where and when she has slipped to this time. I know I always say this but I will never get used to this happening. I just hope she comes back to me soon.

I let out a long sigh and slowly climb out of bed, walking over to where the ring was laying on the floor and shining so brightly. It didn't even occur to me that she wouldn't be able to wear it without possibly losing it if she happened to slip at some point - which is exactly what happened. I pick it up from the floor and walk over to her dresser that sat beside the full length mirror, placing her ring on top.

"Oh baby... whenever you are... I hope you're ok,"

*****

Houston Texas, July 20 1994

(Andi is 20 and 24, Chris is 30)

ANDI: "No.. no, no, no..." I say as I find myself on a cold tile floor of a bathroom trying to sit myself up and figure out just where I am. I have no idea where or when I am but I'm guessing it's in the future, since the air feels a little different. I definitely do not recognize anything about this bathroom. It's small and very white with only a shower stall, the sink vanity displaying a bunch of different miniature shampoos and lotions and white bath towels hanging off the rack with a logo imprinted down at the bottom.

"Holiday Inn?" I say and realize that I'm in a hotel bathroom.

I gather myself up, hanging on to the sink vanity to steady myself , grab one of the towels from the rack and wrap myself in it just in case there was anyone in the room. I push my curls from my eyes and open the bathroom door. I then slowly peak my head out into the room and see that there is no one here but I do see a couple of luggage bags beside the Queen size bed. I also see 2 guitar cases sitting beside the luggage bags and I somehow recognize the one that has an Aerosmith patch and a Black Sabbath patch on it, along with a bunch of other bands - a lot of them I haven't ever heard of. The Aerosmith patch is in exactly the same spot where I sewed mine on to just yesterday before Chris's concert.

I take one more look around making sure no one is here and step further into the room over towards the guitar cases and pull the zipper down revealing my '90 silver sparkle Gretsch Duo Jet with the leather guitar strap that Andy got me for my birthday.

"Ok... this is my room?" I say somewhat confused and unzip the second guitar case revealing a Cherry Burst Gibson with a Soundgarden decal sticker just below the pick guard. "...our room I mean?" I chuckle and I suddenly hear someone outside the hotel room door. I quickly zip up the guitar cases and run back into the bathroom just as the hotel room door opened.

"Babe is that you?" I hear Chris's voice call just as I make it back into the bathroom. My heart started to pound and I had no idea if I should answer or just stay quiet. I hear his footsteps walking up to the bathroom door and just as he opens it I jump, startled that he caught me in here, though it wasn't like I was desperately trying to hide myself since I really don't know where or when I am.

"How did you get back here so fast?" He laughs as his blue eyes glance at me up and down, wearing a white loosely fitted tank top and black baggy shorts with his Doc Martins .

"I uh... um... well..." I stutter as I am unable to take my eyes off of how different he looks. He cut his hair. He has it kind of messy curly but it's so short. He also grew a beard. He looks so different that I have no idea what to say

"Oh I get it... is this like, part of my birthday present?" He raises his eyebrow and smirks.

Birthday...ok... so at least I know it's July 20th... just wish I knew the year though.

"Um... yea, yea it... is," I try to sound convincing but I honestly have no idea what I'm doing. I place my hand over my chest holding up the towel as he steps towards me. I give him a half smile as he leans down to me, placing his lips on mine.

His lips feel incredible as he cups my face in his palms, deepening the kiss, as his tongue plays with mine. I suck his bottom lip like I always do, completely caught up in the moment and he pulls away touching his forehead to mine. He then attempts to take the towel from me and as he glances down to take my hand that was holding up the towel, his expression changes to confusion.

"You're time slipping aren't you?" He asks, his eyes looking into mine.

"Um... yea" I say sheepishly and suddenly the hotel door opens.

"Chris, are you here?" I hear my own voice calling out as Chris's eyes grow wide with panic.

"Chris?"

I then see myself appear at the bathroom door and though this has happened only a handful of times before, it's still disorienting to see yourself in two places at once. Chris turns from me to see the other me standing in the doorway and then glances back at me and I can tell the wheels are spinning in his head.

"Well um... this is..." Chris starts and I just give him a little smile. I glance at the other me and see that I look pretty much exactly the same. My long dark curls well passed my shoulders, wearing a pair of high waisted ripped black leggings, my Doc Martens and a band shirt that was cut up into a crop shirt, showing just a little bit of my stomach - which doesn't seem like me at all - and had the name of Pantera across the front in white blocked writing.

"Andi?" The other me says and I nod, still feeling awkward that I'm standing in a towel. She then walks over to me placing her hands on either side of my arms and gives me a warm smile, then pulls me in to hug her. Once again it was that moment where my future self and my present self immediately gain the memory of this, as if it was there all along.

"So um... is it considered cheating if I was just about to have my way with you in the shower?" Chris says and we both laugh.

"Ok that's just way too weird to hear you laugh at the same time in the same way," Chris says as we continue to giggle and he walks out of the bathroom.

"You think he would be used to this kinda thing," I say and the other me laughs.

"C'mon, you honestly think that?" She giggles.

"No," I say and she smiles at me.

"C'mon... I'll get you some clothes," She walks towards the bathroom door and I follow to see Chris sitting in a large reading chair across from the bed, pouring himself a shot of Jack Daniels.

"Here, these will work," She says and closes up one of the luggage bags, walking over and handing me a band shirt and ripped jeans, some panties and a pair of black and white Chuck Taylors.

"No it's ok, I'm not sure how long I'm gonna, you know... be here," I say but she still hands them to me.

"Andi it's fine, you can't sit in a towel the whole time," She smiles and she's right. I take them from her and glance at Chris as he downs the shot of Jack Daniels, he winks at me and I smirk, and head back into the bathroom to quickly change. Once I do I come back out and Chris looks back and forth at me and the other me and pours another shot.

"Damn... it's just so fucking... weird," He chuckles and downs another shot.

"Hey there birthday boy, don't drink too much yet. We still gotta get into the club," The other me giggles and Chris just shrugs.

" So um... what year am I in?" I say.

" '94" She says.

"What year are you um... slipping from?" Chris asks as he leans back in the chair.

" 1990... June 1990" I say.

"Well I must look completely different to you then," Chris chuckles.

"Not completely but, yea a little different," I smirk and he smiles at me.

"Ok I remember, oh wow this is weird, I remember you gave me that ring and like a few minutes later I slipped... remember?" The other me glances at Chris.

"Yea.. I do... I remember feeling like an idiot that I didn't think about the fact that you couldn't wear a ring because you would lose it," Chris says pouring another shot.

"Wait... are we married?" I ask glancing between the other me and Chris.

"Uh huh... since September 1990," She smiles at me.

"Don't... tell me anymore... I - "

"Wanna be surprised?" She finishes my sentence.

"Yea," I smile.

"Well the only thing I'll tell you is don't be so nervous when you step into the tattoo studio. I really would hate to have the whole time slipping experience happen again in the middle of it," She giggles.

"What?" I ask confused. She then holds up her left hand and points to her ring finger - my ring finger - and I see a tattoo where a wedding band should be. I take her hand and look at the design, then look back at her.

"It's the only thing that I could do, so that I could keep him with me no matter what," She says her eyes welling up just a little bit. Just as I was about to hug her again - cause I can't stand seeing myself cry - I hear the extremely loud ringing in my ears again and I stubble backwards.

"Shit, baby?" Chris says as he leaps up off the chair to catch me.

"I'm sorry... I - I'm... I-" I stutter and begin to feel myself fade.

"It's ok baby," His voice sounding like a faint distant memory as I find myself back in our bedroom, on the bedroom floor trying to catch my breath.

*****

Seattle Washington, June 5 1990

(Andi is 20, Chris is 25)

ANDI: "Baby, holy shit... that was fast. Are you ok?" I hear Chris's voice as he crouches down to me on the floor while I sit myself up coughing just a little.

"Yea, yea I'm ok," I cough. He then takes me in his arms and holds me like he always does and I love how he feels so warm and comforting, ready to save me every time I come back to him.

"Where did you go?" He asks as I rest my head on his bare chest.

"I went ahead this time... um... 1994" I say in between my breaths.

"Holy shit," He says, his voice vibrating through his chest.

"Yea, holy shit," I giggle.

"Is everything ok?" He asks and places his lips on top of my head. I then lift myself away from him looking into his eyes as he brushes a few curls out of mine.

"Everything is fine. I um... I have an idea on an engagement ring that I won't lose, you know just in case I slip again," I say and he raises his eyebrow at me.

"Oh yea? What's that?" He chuckles.

"How do you feel about tattoos?"

#Time After Time #time travel #chris cornell #chris cornell fanfiction #soundgarden #soundgarden fanfiction #alternate universe #also on ao3 #also on wattpad

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kaffeinic · 5 years

Text

Caffeinic | Bang Chan

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | Epilogue

Pairing: Reader x Barista!Bang Chan

Genre: Fluff // Romance

Warnings: Fem!Reader // Mildly Adult Language

Preamble: You’ve been going to the same coffee shop for the past four years. You’ve ordered the same thing almost every single day, and you never, ever skip on that part of your morning. So, when Mrs. Park hired a new barista and the once serene café was suddenly flooded with people every second of the day, you were less than thrilled.

The night had finally passed, completely uneventful. The next morning, you found yourself slipping into a black button-up, black ripped jeans, and Doc Martins. Before exiting your apartment, you slipped on a black trenchcoat, grabbing your bag and running a hand through your hair. The cold December air bit your nose, causing you to sneeze. You rubbed it cautiously, praying that it wouldn’t start leaking.

The day at university passed agonizingly slowly, and you found yourself restless in your seat by the last class. You felt a tap on your shoulder.

“Hey~!” Junseok said. “How’s it going?” He asked. You smiled. You’ve both grown much closer since the failed date with Chan. He helped you get through it by remaining peachy lol throughout the process. You couldn’t help but wonder why he would still help, even after you chose Chan over him.

“I’m alright. I have a lot floating through my mind at the moment. What about you?” You asked. He frowned.

“When are you going to tell me what was bothering you?” He questioned. “If you want my help, I need to know.” He said. You hung your head and nodded.

“I’ll tell you after class.” You promised. He smiled and hummed in understanding. The professor lectured the class for another half hour before giving you all the details of your assignment. You scribbled down the information and closed your notebook, slipping out of the classroom quietly. Junseok quickly caught up with you.

“So?” He said. You sighed, feeling bad for complaining to him about what happened with Chan after what had happened between the two of you.

“Chan and I were going on a date. Seoyeon showed up.” You began. His face twisted into a grimace when you mentioned Seoyeon. He nodded, waiting for you to continue. He must not be on good terms with her, either. “She told me that Chan had been kissing other people at the party. He had told me he wasn’t going to date or do anything along those lines long before that party.” You said. Junseok began to laugh. You wore a horrified expression. “Are you laughing at me?” You asked. He composed himself, then shook his head.

“No. Meet me at the café in an hour and a half.” He said. You cocked an eyebrow.

“What does this have to do with anything?” You asked. He smiled.

“Just trust me. Have I done anything wrong to you before?” He questioned. You shook your head. He had been nothing but kind to you from the moment you both first spoke.

“Okay. I’ll see you then.” You said. After departing, you went to the library, which was a five minute walk from the café. Typically, you would have just waited inside the coffee house, but you didn’t want to have to face Chan any earlier than necessary. After spending nearly all of your time reading a fantasy book with a title you couldn’t pronounce, you left the library and walked a block and a half to the café. The tinted doors revealed very little about what was going on inside. You crossed your fingers, hoping to avoid a crisis.

“Junseok better have a good reason for this...” You muttered, entering the building. The bell chimed, and your nostrils were flooded with the amazing scent of espresso. You hummed, closing your eyes for a moment before closing the door. You made an audible ‘ah’ sound as you spotted the source of the aroma. A steaming cup of espresso sat idly on the bar counter next to Mrs. Park, who waved enthusiastically.

“Y/n! How are you, honey?” She asked. You smiled, walking over and sitting in your usual bar stool.

“I’m alright. You?” You asked. She hummed.

“I’m doing very well. We’ve been busy. Chan has been a big help.” She said. You watched as her glance found yours when she said Chan’s name. She clearly wasn’t over what had happened. You looked at your hands, which were resting in your lap, twiddling your thumbs. It was then that you heard the bell ring again, Junseok appearing in the doorway. There were two people behind him, but you couldn’t quite see who it was. He telling them to come inside. A girl walked in, waving to you. You hesitantly waved back, peering around the edge of the doorframe. A man was standing outside, apparently refusing to come in.

“Come on, this will help - I promise.” Junseok said the the mystery man. You saw a silhouette shake its head. Junseok grabbed the man’s arm, pulling him into view. It was Chan. His hair was in crazy, disheveled curls per usual, and his gaze found yours instantly. You looked at Junseok with a scowl that closely resembled Chan’s.

The three of them made their way to you, Chan trailing behind. He shoved his hands in his pockets, hiding his face. He wasn’t mad, as far as you could tell. He was just very uncomfortable. You fully understood why. He donned a plain white tee, blue jeans, and a pair of boots. A sweater was hanging over his right forearm, the soft blue colour catching your eye.

“Y/n, meet Eunji. Eunji, meet Y/n.” Eunji held out her hand hesitantly, and you shook it with a smile.

“It’s nice to meet you.” You said. She seemed immediately more relaxed when you spoke with a soft tone.

“You, too.” She said.

“Eunji has something she wants to tell you.” Junseok said. You raised a brow and looked at the girl. She nearly hid her entire face in her hair, looking away.

“Junseok told me about what happened with you and Chan.” She said. “Did he never tell you what happened?”

You looked down. “I didn’t listen when I first was told about it. He explained the last time we spoke, but he has no proof.” You said. Eunji nodded.

“At the party, - it was my first one - I was playing a game with some friends from university. It was a tweaked version of Truth or Dare.” She said. “All of us were drunk, - not Chan, he was just watching - and I was dared to kiss the hottest guy in the room.” She looked at the floor. “It was me, not Chan. I walked up and kissed him, and he pulled away really quickly.” She explained. “You can ask Junseok, too. He was watching us with Chan. They’re really good friends.” She said. “I’m so sorry for this.”

You stood up and walked closer to her. “I’m not mad at you. You didn’t know.” You said. She looked up, a small smile gracing her face. “Thank you for telling me, really. This changes everything.” Chan’s head raised and turned in your direction, eyes hopeful. Junseok smiled, walking to you. He enveloped you in a big hug, laughing.

“Treat him well. He’s head over heels for you.” He whispered in your ear. You wrapped your arms around him, too. He gave you a squeeze before pulling away, motioning for Eunji to exit with him. You bowed to her and smiled, thanking her again. Now it was just you and Chan in the café, completely ignoring the busy atmosphere around you. You moved closer to him, smiling slightly.

“You were telling the truth.” You said. “I’m sorry for doubting you.” Chan’s face lit up like a Christmas tree.

“I think anyone would have.” He said. “Are... we good now?” He stuttered over his last sentence, looking directly into your eyes. You giggled and nodded.

“We’re more than good.” You said. He laughed and closed the gap between the two of you, wrapping his arms around your body. He hugged you tightly - so tightly, in fact, that you couldn’t even wrap your arms around him. He chuckled as you grunted with effort. He loosened his grip and pulled away slightly, looking at you with loving eyes.

“I missed you, Babygirl.” He said. You smiled gleefully.

“I missed you, too.” You replied. He grabbed your hands and led you around the corner, just out of the line of sight of the customers in the café. He put his hand on your cheek.

“Now, since you were so bent out of shape about a illegitimate kiss, can I have a real one?” He asked. You looked down, giggling at his cheeky attitude. Nodding, you felt his other hand tilt your chin upwards. He leaned down and softly brushed his lips against yours, smiling into the kiss. You rolled your eyes.

“I thought you said you wanted a real kiss.” You said. Chan smirked at your comment, moving closer so that your body was sandwiched between his and the wall. You could feel his chest move as he exhaled and inhaled, clasping the sides of his shirt in your hands. You felt his solid body beneath the fabric as his nose brushed against yours. He closed the gap, this time kissing you deeper. He wasn’t rough, but the kiss wasn’t as ghostly soft as it had been the first time. Your heart jumped when his fingers grazed your neck. You sighed into the kiss, which was significantly longer than the previous one. When he pulled away, you let out a small whine, inducing a deep laugh to erupt from him.

“I’d kiss you more, but it’s poor work etiquette.” He said. You rolled your eyes.

“Aren’t you off the clock?”

“Yeah, but I’m sure you would never forget it if someone caught us kissing in the hall.” He informed, touching his nose against yours. You giggled again, placing a hand on his right cheek, to which he smiled, a small dimple gracing the other. He moved sideways to give you a peck as he pulled away. His hands stayed wrapped around yours, rubbing circles.

“I really am sorry for not believing you, Channie.” You said. He released his grip on one of your hands, touching your face so as to make you look at him.

“Don’t ever be sorry for that. You had every reason to think what you did.” He said. You smiled, and he rubbed his thumb over the lifted edge of your lips. “We have a lot to catch up on.” He said.

“What do you mean?” You asked. He frowned.

“I know where your phone is.” He said. You raised a brow.

“Where?”

“Seoyeon has it.” Your eyes widened.

“When did you find out?” You asked.

“This morning. When it had first gone missing, I let a friend of mine know. He works at the service company. I asked if he could be on the lookout for pings or anything that could tell us where it was.” Chan explained.

“How do you know Seoyeon has it?” You raised a brow.

“She clears out an entire section of the gym twice a week. It pinged there twice, and only on the days that she would be there.” He said. Your head hung as you rubbed the back of your neck.

“I should have known she was part of this.” You said.

“How about we go get your phone back?” He asked, grinning.

“You’re way too excited about this.” You said. He laughed.

“An opportunity to put Seoyeon in her place, and finally being able to get your number?” He said. “Hell yeah!”

Fanart time!

This chapter’s fanart is by @woo-for-woojin! I love this! Feel free to send in your own fanart as well!

There’s the ever-awaited fluff! I hope you all enjoyed this chapter. If you did, please drop a like and reblog with your feedback for all of your friends, mutuals, and any other kpop lovers to see~ Thanks for reading, and have a nice day!

* DISCLAIMER: I do not own any gifs/photos used in this post. I do own the written content. Do NOT repost/edit. *

🏷 @punk-pan-bih-yeets-thru-life • @hoshithehamster • @woo-for-woojin • @deceased-pumpkin-babe • @ethereal-chanracha • @midnatwlp • @joohowdy • @ckyunwon • @yeollliee • @aquietkerfuffle • @royalhvangs

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that-terrible-writer · 6 years

Text

Everybody Knows

Such a tiny gif, but I couldn’t find any bigger ones that worked. Again, found on Google; so credit to who it’s due to.

I know I said I would post two other stories prior to this one but I just had to write this out. I’ve been having a shit month, now going through immigration bullshit that I haven’t had time to write. I’m sorry for those who follow me. It’s just been hard due to money problems, tax shit and the many trips I have to make to immigration. So as a way to say sorry, here is a 4.5k part three to Ray.

Ray Palmer x Reader

Part 3

Part 1 2

Warning: Not as much as an asshole as I wanted to be.

“Everybody knows is so good, my heart and feelings”

“It’s okay. I didn’t need a heart anyway. What is do need is a part 3.”

You had been arguing with Harry for over an hour, going nowhere in the disagreement. You mentioned him that you wanted to go on at least one mission with the Legends, to see if you would enjoy it as much as your alternate self did. Harry was obvious why he was against your decision, and that was due to one person: Ray Palmer.

"I'm going, Wells, and that's final!" You yelled, narrowing your eyes at your boyfriend. You continued to pack your bag, placing in some prototypes that you had been working on, but Harry was quick to snatch your bag away. You leaned forward on the metal table, having your arms bent that you were peering underneath Wells, sneering at him, "It's not my fault that you're insecure about Palmer!"

"I'm insecure?" Harry laughed, placing his hands on his chest; offended with your statement. He walked away from you for a second, to try and control his emotions but it was just something he could let slip by, "You dated Palmer! I have every right to be against the idea of you traveling with him!"

"My alternate self dated him! I didn't!" You defended. You moved away from the table, walking around it to get to Harry, "You just don't trust me then." That was something you shouldn't have said. The moment that sentence left your mouth, Harry was quick with his counter.

"Explain what I saw at Jitters then," He reminded you, crossing his arms, just staring dead straight at you. You swallowed hard, your heart sinking as you recalled the look on Harry's face when he had interrupted you and Palmer. You knew that if Harry hadn't had stepped in, you would have kissed Palmer and not have a second thought about it. You pressed your lips into a thin line, remaining silent; Harry knew what your silence meant. He turned away from you, giving out a heavy sigh, "Y/N, I trust you. It's clear that Palmer is unquestionably still in love with you."

"I have it handle," You muttered, reaching to grab your bag to return to packing some more weapons, "I want to know what it's like to be part of the Legends." You confessed, shrugging your shoulders.

"You're part of Team Flash," Harry weakly got out. You turned, your eyebrows scrunched low with your mouth partly ajar. It felt like a knife had stabbed your heart. Harry returned his gaze to look at you, covering his mouth to try and hold back by saying anything else.

"I'm not betraying the team, Harry!" You threw your bag to the ground. You stuck out your finger, poking Harry in his chest: continuing the fight. It would have been another lover's quarrel if only if it was between the two of you. In the other room, the control room of Team Flash, stood both teams trying their best not to listen in.

"Couldn't they just go have this fight at their place?" Mick grumbled, taking a sip out of his beer. His eyes quickly caught the expression Ray was wearing, who was looking out towards the doorway, "How are you holding up, haircut?" Ray turned to look at his teammate; surprised at the concern that Mick was giving him.

"Oh," Ray softly said, being caught off guard, "I'm good, great one might say." Mick thought that was Ray's real answer, turning away to head out the room to grab another drink. Ray let out a defeated sigh, grabbing his team's and Team Flash's attention, "You saw right through me. I'm not doing great at all."

Ray saw everyone's look of worry towards him, making him feel a little uncomfortable. Ray rubbed his arm, trying to relax his nerves but his eyes would go straight back to the doorway when he would hear your voice. "Will you be ok if Y/N doesn't join us again?" Jackson asked.

Without looking at his team, without giving it a second thought, "She's coming," Ray answered, his voice was louder and stronger than his statements before. Ray turned to see everyone surprised at Ray's confident answer. Ray lifted his eyebrows, shocked that no one thought the same, "If she's anything like the Y/N I know when she sets his mind on something; she's locking it in."

"He's not wrong," Wally finally chimed into the discussion. Ray's ears perked the moment someone finally sided with him, "In the original timeline, I was a speedster, but when Barry created Flashpoint, I lost my powers."

"But you are a speedster," Mick pointed out the obvious.

"That was my point," Wally answered, a bit annoyed at Mick's outburst. Wally walked towards Ray, his hand out as he was eager to lift the Atom's spirit, "I got my powers back, so maybe it means that you can get the original Y/N, your Y/N, back." Wally's testimony changed Ray's entire mood, hell, his whole feeling towards Flashpoint. That there was that chance of hope, not even a slim one, to get you back. A weight lifted off of his chest, making him feel lighter than air, having that sense of home returning to him.

"You're creeping us out here, buddy," Nate mumbled, snapping Ray out of his dream-like state.

Sara took a few steps forward, placing her hand on Ray's shoulder, "I know you want the original Y/N to return, we all do," Sara said, "but we can't force it."

"What do you mean?" Ray questioned. He looked across the room to get answers from someone he respected. Dr. Stein fixed his glasses before giving his input on the matter.

"I think what Ms. Lance is saying is that we must treat Y/N as if she had amnesia. We cannot tell her things that had happened in our timeline because we do not know what the outcome will be." Martin explained trying to put the situation in a better light.

Ray's heart fell to the floor. He didn't know how long he would be able to hold himself off. Having you travel with the Legends would just bring back his memories of you; memories that only he would remember. His attention was drawn to the door to see you enter with a bag hanging off your shoulder. You were muttering under your breath still cursing at Harry, who stayed in the other room. Ray's eyes lit up the moment he saw you, a smile tugging at the corner of his lip. Your gaze met Ray's, seeing his smile towards you and you couldn't help but share the same expression. You quickly shook your head, realizing that others were around the two of you, snapping you out of your daze.

"Hey, you guys," You shuttered, your eyes flickering to each person that stood in front of you. The look of concern that they had shared made you realized that your argument with Wells was anything but private. You spun on your heel, facing the captain of the Wave Rider, puffing out your chest, "I wanted to know if it would be alright if I join the Legends for a mission or what not."

Everyone's eyes flickered towards Palmer, whose smile grew even wider only because he was right. When it came to you: he would always be right. Sara brought back her attention to you; a smirk plastered across her face, "How can I say no when it's you, Y/L/N?"

Ray was the one that volunteered to show you around the Wave Rider. Sara saw it as harmless, knowing that Gideon was there to watch over everything that would happen. You entered the last room, a bedroom, which you concluded was his.

"This is our―my room," Ray caught his slip up, looking over to seeing you staring at him due to his mistake. A tint of pink appeared on his cheeks. He felt his palms getting sweaty, rubbing them on his pants to have them dry but he continued to be embarrassed as you looked at him as if he was brand new. He realized that there was only one bed in the room which caused him to act even more nervous. "Uh, the bed..." He pointed out, driving your gaze to the only bed in the room: a queen size one.

"Oh," You softly let out, the same color he wore came to your cheeks, "I can sleep somewhere else. I think I saw a couch in the dining area." Ray waved his hand in front of you, making you stop your proposal: rejecting the very idea.

"I would never let you sleep on a couch, Y/N," Ray explained. His confession caused your cheeks to burn even more, intensifying the color to a darker shade of red. You tried to cover your face to hide your reaction; he noticed your reactions causing him to smile at you, once again. "I'll just go bunk with Mick. You can stay here." Before you could object, Ray lifted his finger to silence you, "I insist." Ray grabbed a few of his belongs before leaving you alone in the room.

You walked around having your curiosity come over you. You knew that it was wrong to peering into someone else's belongings, but you wanted to know more about Ray Palmer. There were photos scattered around the room: on the bookshelf, the nightstand, and the dresser. You picked one of the pictures up, scanning it to see it was of you and Ray dressed in Western clothes. You were attached to his arm, leaning your head against him with a big smile on your face.

You had picked up another, now dressed in what had to be 50's outfits; Ray dressed as a prep and you in a poodle skirt. The image looked like it was for the cover of the Saturday Evening Post. The two of you sat at a diner counter, sharing a milkshake while nothing but pure bliss beamed from both your faces. You kept going through each photo seeing the same thing over and over: different clothes but still the same two people in love. Your heart grew heavy the more that you continued at each photograph, continually thinking about Ray and what he had to be feeling.

Your relationship with him had to be perfect, ideal one would say. Having him lose it for no reason at all had to be tough. Your snooping didn't stop at the photos; you just had to know more about him. You needed to figure out why you would have fallen in love with someone like him, what did Ray Palmer do that captured your heart?

You lifted some of the papers that were piling up on an object. When you moved them to the side, it revealed a small black, velvet box. Your eyes widened at sight. Your hand was slowly hovering over the box to open it, seeing a beautiful engagement ring sitting inside.

Ray Palmer lost everything he had with you.

The sounds of footsteps in the distanced had startled you, causing you to frantically shut the box to cover it back up in the papers that hid it once before. You tried to make sure that the room looked the same way as it was when you had first entered it; just in case it was the heartbroken made that was coming to see you. You turned to the doorway to just see Sara looking at you, amused by your expression of pure fear.

"You can relax, I'm not lover boy," She chuckled, walking into the room. Sara looked over seeing the photos across the room, having her sigh, "Hopefully those didn't scare you."

You lightly shook your head, joining Sara by the bedside, "Strangely enough, they didn't." Sara perked up, hearing your words. She crossed her arms, tilting her head to have her undivided attention on you, "You think it would, but it gives me this warm feeling in the pit of my stomach." That feeling quickly disappeared when you immediately thought of the ring causing a wave of guilt to wash over you.

Sara took your silence as a sign of you being conflicted with the situation you had. It was your decision at the end of the day; wheater staying with Team Flash or for you to come home to the Legends, even if many were against the second choice. "Come on; we need to go talk with the team on deciding where to go," Sara announced, getting off the bed.

"Go?" You questioned, quickly following her behind, "You don't have a mission?"

"For once, no," Sara laughed. She motioned you out the door, guiding you down the hall, back to the control room. Before entering, Sara stopped at the entrance, giving you a little pep talk, "Don't be nervous about being with us. We all like you, minus you calling us 'goons.'"

"Yeah, sorry about that," You muttered, rubbing the back of your neck. You pulled on Sara's arm, refraining her from entering to have her opinion on something important, "Sara," You hesitated, knowing that she was going to one-sided on the question, but you still had to ask, "Was I happier with Ray than I am with Harry?"

Sara pressed her lips together, making a humming noise to avoid saying the wrong thing. When she looked into your eyes, she saw a helpless person just wanting to know some ounce of the truth. "Look," She sighed, "I don't know your entire relationship with Wells so I can't nor should I give you an answer." Before she opened the door, she shook her finger at you, remembering something, "But you and Ray? You two never fought if that helps you."

You both finally entered the control room, seeing the rest of the team gathered. Your eyes went straight to Ray's acting like they were on autopilot. Ray's smile that seemed never to leave his face, one that would appear every time he looked at you had grown. He tried to take a few steps to stand by you but was held back by Nate.

"You can't force it," Nate hushed at Palmer, "If it's meant to be, it will happen, but you shouldn't have high hopes." With Nate's exchange of words caused Ray to take a deep breath, trying to mask over the sadness that had rushed through him. He didn't want to think about a future that you weren't in. He wanted everything to go back to the way it was, you taking care of the Wave Rider and he was fine with starting all over with you: falling back in love.

"We have a day off," Sara announced to her team, a sign of concern swept each of the Legend's faces.

"Wait, you're serious?" Jackson chuckled, his mood quickly shifting, "What does that mean for us?"

"It means, we can relax for once and take a trip to anywhere and anytime," Sara continued, she had that sly smile appear, "We can't change history or leak anything that happens in the future, but it doesn't mean we can't have fun with it."

"Bermuda," Mick suggested, bringing the bottle of beer to his lips and continuing with his suggestion, "2018."

"Why is that your choice every single time?" Amaya asked.

"Beach. Booze. Women." Mick had listed. He glanced over at Ray, taking another sip of his drink, "Unless you have a better place in mind." Mick was signaling for Ray to speak but it caused an uproar of the Legends trying to figure out where to go. You stood there confused, looking at each member to try and figure out which place sounded the most appealing. None so far.

"New Orleans. 1826." Until that location came into play. Your ears perked, eyebrows raised and your mouth opened slightly. You figured out that it was Ray's voice that chose that specific location, instantly when he said the place of interest. Ray tried to keep his eye contact on Sara but couldn't help but notice at the corner of his eyes how excited you had become.

"New Orleans?" Sara repeated, confused on the odd location coming from Palmer.

"Party central, I dig it." Mick seconded it, lifting his bottle to show.

"Dude, why Ne―" Nate couldn't finish his sentence due to your excitement couldn't be contained any longer.

"Yes!" You yelled causing the entire team to jump from your sudden outburst: all but Ray. A smile grew, wider and wider by the second, rushing over to Ray to grab ahold of his arm. Ray looked down at you, seeing pure happiness pouring out of your, making his warmth return to him, "That's what I would say!" You told him.

You could hear a few disgruntle noises coming from the team, but you turned to them to defend the choice Ray had suggested. "Come on! 1826 was the rise of the Voodoo Queen, herself, Marie Laveau! Plus you have such a rich culture coming out of New Orleans: the birth of jazz, the French cuisine, all the dancing and just voodoo in general!" You kept rambling about New Orleans, trying to plead the case on going there.

"Is it bad if I want something bad to happen in New Orleans during the 1820's so that we have to go there?" You asked Ray, finishing getting ready for bed to walk over to join him in bed. Ray placed down his gadget that he was toying with, giving you his full attention. He raised his eyebrow, a smile coming across his face, waiting for you to continue. You got yourself comfortable with him, leaning up against Ray's side, hooking your leg over his, "The rise of voodoo, come on! Now when you go there, it's all fake but to see it on the rise; when the queen herself is starting her career! Plus you have the music, food, and culture." You sighed, nuzzling your head in his arm, having a small smile appear, "It just sounds so exciting."

You felt Ray chuckle. He found it adorable how passionate you got for specific time eras. He placed his toy on the nightstand, to be able to put his hand on your cheek. You stared up at him, enjoying his touch on you, "Who knows, maybe when we have a day off, we can convince Sara to take the team there." Ray assured you.

"Yeah, like we're ever going to get one of those." You laughed, but Ray silenced you by capturing your lips with his.

Ray's smile grew just thinking about that memory. The same amount of passion you had then was still with you now. Ray decided then that he wouldn't let his team choose what was right for him. That small action showed that the original you were still in there. Exactly how Wally explained. You needed a reminder of who you were. A trip on the Wave Rider may have triggered a small part of it, but he couldn't help but imagine what a date with him would do for you.

"Alright, New Orleans it is!" Sara declared, heading over to her seat. You clapped your hands, rejoicing that she agreed. You turned to Ray, shaking his arm, still overwhelmed you were going to see a place you thought you would never go to in your life. The simple touch that you gave him had that spark; the same spark that he always got when you would either brush up against him, touch his hand or laugh against his arm when you were together. Your fingers lingered, playing with the end of Ray's sleeve, taking a moment to yourself. You caught yourself with the interaction, suddenly pulling your hand away from him.

"S―sorry," You stuttered, looking away from the tall, handsome man. You felt your cheeks burn and your heart quickening. You fiddled with your fingers, trying to collect the right words to say to him. Ray found it cute that you were getting all flustered over him. It was shown due to his pink cheeks and smile that he was giving you. "Great choice," You managed to say, glancing up at him with a small smile.

"Are we going or what?" Mick yelled, already in his seat. You turned on your heel to join him. Ray was going to join you, but Dr. Stein and Nate stopped him: troubled by the Atom's action.

"What the hell was that?" Nate harshly asked his friend, grabbing hold of Ray's arm to prevent him from walking away.

"What?" Ray asked, trying to play the fool.

"New Orleans?" Nate couldn't help but chuckle a little, soon dropping the act shortly, "You never been interested in New Orleans. That was for Y/N, wasn't it?"

"Dr. Palmer, I thought we were clear that we cannot force any memories with Ms. Y/L/N," Martin reminded the lovesick fool.

"I just suggested a place," Ray defended, his eyes shifting over to see you talking to Mick, mumbling under his breath, "Maybe she mentioned it once." Nate let out a heavy groan, shaking his head in disapproval. Ray looked back at his teammates, pushing his eyebrows down, "Nothing happened! She's fine plus she got just as excited as she did when she mentioned it to me the first time!"

"That may be so, Dr. Palmer, but that doesn't mean it will always be that way with every little thing Ms. Y/L/N does," Dr. Stein explained, "We just don't want you to get your hopes high."

"And she already is with someone, remember, Wells," Nate warned Ray, letting his grip on the Atom go. Ray's sadness returned. You finally made eye contact with Ray, seeing that depression he wore. It hurt you seeing him in that state, and you knew it was due to his conversation he was having with Stein and Heywood.

"Ray!" You called out to him, grabbing his attention. You stretched out your hand, smiling towards him, "We can't go if you're still standing!" Ray was pulled back by Nate, having him whispered one last thing to Ray. Ray kept his gaze on you, no sign of happiness coming from him at all. You felt your heart grow heavy, matching his exact mood as if your hearts were one. You wiggled your fingers, raising your eyebrows, "C'mon!" You mumbled, a pout to match your sad tone.

Ray took in a deep breath, pushing his nagging teammates aside to join the seat next to yours. You tilted your head, still worried about his being, "Everything ok?" you asked. Ray nodded, lowering his handles before he returned his awareness to you.

"Yeah," He weakly got out. Your whole view on Ray changed after your talk at Jitters. It felt like his team didn't understand the pain and confusion that he was dealing with: he honestly felt alone. You reached over, grabbing his hand in yours to taking in everything he had. You played with his fingers for a bit before lacing yours with his. Even though his hands were twice the size of yours, they felt perfect when molded into one. You could feel the warmth that he was giving off that made you feel calm and flustered at the same time.

Ray took the time to study you while you were busy playing with his hand. He gave the holding a squeeze, his heart pounding against his chest; feeling sick to his stomach. Ray tried his best not to be bothered by the exchange of words that Nate and Martin decided to share. He didn't want to think about you not returning to him. That after this trip, you were undoubtedly going back to Team Flash and live your life with Wells: not giving the Legends or him a second thought. That was what broke Ray's heart the most.

"Ray," You softly called out, shaking your joined hands, breaking Ray out of his dark thoughts. His eyes went straight to yours, he could barely keep his eyes locked onto yours, "Is it scary?" You asked. Ray was confused on what you were referring. Scared about the future or, "Jumping through time." You added, having Ray sigh a bit. He gave you a weak smile, squeezing your hand once more.

"Not at all. Don't worry; I'll be here," Ray promised you.

You felt a knot form in your stomach, your breath hitching in the back of your throat and your eyes widened.

"Are you sure this thing is stable?" You asked Rip, the Wave rider shaking just by going off the ground, "Seems like you didn't do a good job maintaining it."

"I know my ship better than anyone, Ms. Y/L/N, thank you very much." Rip muttered. The ship shook violently, causing you to grip the handles harder. You saw a hand appear at the corner of your eye. You turned your head to see that the hand belonged to none other than Ray Palmer. He had a smile on his face, still having his hand out towards you.

"Wanna hold hands?" He offered. You couldn't help but laugh at his simple suggestion. The next tremble the ship had, you clutched Ray's hand, and the instant touch had relaxed you. You glanced over at Palmer, his smile not leaving him, "Don't worry; I'll be here."

"Y/N?" You heard your name softly called out. Your breath got a little shaky not even realizing it. You looked around the room to see every pair of eyes on you. You felt your hand shake a little, causing you to glimpse over at Ray; who looked the most worried. "Are you ok?" He asked. You heard his voice waver a little, showing his sign of worry.

You lightly nodded, clutching his hand, "Yeah, just a little scared of flying," You lied, hoping that the Legends would buy it. The memory that you just experienced was so vivid. It was something that you couldn't have dreamt up. You readjusted your fingers, trying to bring Ray's hand closer: if that was possible. The knot in your stomach didn't disappear but grew in size each time you kept replaying the scene in your head. Each time it played, the unknown feeling that you had for Palmer also grew.

You quickly glanced over at Ray, who was whispering to Nate. The feelings came back the moment you stared at his face: your cheeks flushing, butterflies forming in the pit of your stomach and you could feel your palms getting sweaty. You tried to pull your hand away, not wanting Ray to notice how nervous you were becoming, but he didn't budge. He had your hand locked on to his, not wanting to be separated again.

The feeling that was building inside you, the warmth that was taking over your body that was increasing for Ray. Was this the love you had for him that Flashpoint had taken away from you?

Tagged: @mad-doctor-mew @lilmissperfectlyimperfect @inspiredbynewt @writing-multifandom @thecraziestcrayon @x-goddess-of-nature-x

#Ray Palmer #ray palmer x reader #ray palmer imagine #The Atom #the atom x reader #the atom imagine #lot imagine #legends of tomorrow #legends of tomorrow imagine #legends of tomorrow imagines #brandon routh #arrowverse imagine

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cathygeha · 5 years

Photo

REVIEW

Highland Crown by May McGoldrick

Royal Highlander #1 In 1820 life in Scotland for the Scottish was one of oppression and being under the yoke of an occupying force. Having lived in such a situation I know that what the occupier and those being occupied experience is not the same. It is true of Scotland and many other countries that have been occupied in the past. There are atrocities perpetrated, freedom-fighters heroes of the country considered terrorists by the occupiers and...anyway...it has not changed in centuries and no doubt will remain the same for centuries. Anyway, this book is set in Scotland when England is occupying it. The English feel they have valid reasons for being there and doing what they are doing BUT that is definitely up for debate. The people that suffer most in situations like this are often the poor who are without means of any sort to deal with the political shenanigans and horrors they face but...they do often survive against the odds. So...I digressed but in doing so perhaps set the stage. There is a woman with a bounty on her head. She is wanted by the English and also by others. She believes she has found a place to hunker down and hide till she can move on to Halifax with her half-sister and step-daughter but while she waits to move on events are set in play that change her life entirely. A ship founders on the rocks of the bay near where she is hiding and when her skills as a physician are put into play saving the ship’s captain both her life and the captain’s are changed forever. This book contains a fair bit of politics and history but not to the detriment of the romance and the wonderful introduction to the books that will follow. We meet Isabella: physician, widow, step-mother, guardian of her half-sister, forward thinking female who is being hunted for treason. We also meet Captain Cinead MacKintosh: orphan, man of the sea, ship’s captain, man of honor, charismatic leader, superb lover, and more. That Isabella saves Cinead’s life is not lost on him and when he is able to return the favor he manages to do so even when not at his physical best. What I liked: * Isabella’s strength, intelligence, skills, calm demeanor, passion and so much more. * Cinead...I really liked him and how he managed to do what was needed even when he should have been laid flat on the floor PLUS he was a swoon-worthy book boyfriend – at least in my opinion. * Searc (though I think his name is said Shark) – his cunning and ability to play both sides for the benefit of all...especially himself. * Jean: for an older woman she is a great role model * Carmichael: the physician didn’t get a lot of time in the book but his role really supported Isabella’s abilities and character * The relationship between Isabella and Cinead and how the two grew together and as individuals. What I didn’t like: * Hudson the Hussar and his buddies – talk about people who deserve to be roasted on a spit over a fiery pit! * Habbie – and his village companions out to glean what they could from the ship that crashed on the rocks...I mean...really? Sure...the sea takes and it gives but it also gives not only goods from shipwrecks but also human lives that should be saved and not squandered! * The historical times – I hate reading about injustice...in the past or in the present and yet...sometimes the story has to have mention of these injustices to give them the setting and impact they need to solidify the story. What am I looking forward to in this series? (yes, I do want to read more in this series) * Finding out how Isabella and Cinead move forward now that they are a couple * Finding out more about Cinead’s background * Seeing who Maisie and Morrigan end up with * Finding out whether or not John Gordon survived his time under torture and finds a HEA. Thank you to NetGalley and St. Martin’s Press for the ARC – This is my honest review. 5 Stars

ABOUT HIGHLAND CROWN:

Scottish pride, persuasion, and passion—this is Highland romance at its breathtaking best. Inverness, 1820 Perched on the North Sea, this port town—by turns legendary and mythological—is a place where Highland rebels and English authorities clash in a mortal struggle for survival and dominance. Among the fray is a lovely young widow who possesses rare and special gifts. WANTED: Isabella Drummond A true beauty and trained physician, Isabella has inspired longing and mystery—and fury—in a great many men. Hunted by both the British government and Scottish rebels, she came to the Highlands in search of survival. But a dying ship’s captain will steer her fate into even stormier waters. . .and her heart into flames. FOUND: Cinaed Mackintosh Cast from his home as a child, Cinaed is a fierce soul whose allegiance is only to himself … until Isabella saved his life—and added more risk to her own. Now, the only way Cinaed can keep her safe to seek refuge at Dalmigavie Castle, the Mackintosh family seat. But when the scandalous truth of his past comes out, any chance of Cinaed having a bright future with Isabella is thrown into complete darkness. What will these two ill-fated lovers have to sacrifice to be together…for eternity?

EXCERPT

Cinaed looked up into a woman’s face. Fine black eye- brows arched over brown eyes that were focused on his chest. Thick dark hair was pulled back in a braid and pinned up at the back of her head. Intent on what she was doing, she was unaware that he was awake.

Her brow was furrowed, and lines of concentration framed the corners of her mouth. The grey travel dress she wore was plain and practical. She was not old, but not young either. Not fat, not thin. From where he lay, he guessed she was neither tall nor short. She was beautiful, but not in the flashy way of the women who generally greeted sailors in the port towns. Nor was she like the eyelash-fluttering lasses in Halifax who never stopped trying to get his attention after a Sunday service. He didn’t bother to assess the pleasant symmetry of her face, however. The “brook no nonsense” expression warned

that she wasn’t one to care what others thought of her looks, anyway.

But who was she?

The last clear memory he had was seeing a flash from the shore. The next moment his chest had been punched with what felt like a fiery poker. Everything after that floated in a jumbled haze. He recalled being in the water, trying to swim toward some distant shore. Or was he struggling to reach the longboat again?

Cinaed didn’t know what part of his body hurt more, the fearsome pounding in his head or the burning piece of that poker still lodged in his chest.

“Where am I?” he demanded. “Who the deuce are you?”

Startled, she sat up straight, pulling away and scowl- ing down at him. In one blood-covered hand, she held a needle and thread. In the other, a surgeon’s knife that she now pointed directly at his throat.

“Try to choke me again and I’ll kill you.” “Choke you? For the love of God, woman!”

His ship. The reef. The explosion. He closed his eyes for a moment and tried to clear away the fog. Everything he’d been through struck him like a broad- side.

The Highland Crown was gone. He’d detonated the powder himself. Where were his men? He’d climbed into the last longboat. They’d been fired at from the beach. He’d been shot.

Cinaed grabbed the knife-wielding wrist before she could pull it away. “Where are my men?”

An ancient woman in Highland garb slid into his line

of sight behind the younger one. She was making sure he saw the cudgel she had over one shoulder.

“This one is worth less than auld fish bait, mistress,” she taunted. The crone was ready and obviously eager to use that club. “And thankless, too, I’m bound. I was right when I said ye should never have saved him.”

Should never have saved him. He released the wrist, and the hand retreated. But the dark-haired woman didn’t move away. As if nothing had happened, she dropped the knife on the cot, out of his reach. The brown eyes again focused on his chest, and she put her needle back to work.

He winced but kept his hands off the woman.

By all rights, he should be dead. A musket ball had cut him down and knocked him into the water. He should in- deed be finished. Someone on shore had tried to kill him.

But he was alive, and apparently he owed his life to this one. Gratitude flowed through him.

“Want me to give him another knock in the head?” the old witch asked.

“Last stitch. Let me finish,” she said in a voice lacking the heavier burr of the northern accent. “You can kill him when I’m done.”

A sense of humor, Cinaed thought. At least, he hoped she was joking. She tied off the knot, cut the thread, and straightened her back, inspecting her handiwork. He lifted his head to see what kind of quilt pattern she’d made of him. A puckered line of flesh, topped by a row of neat stitches, now adorned the area just below his collarbone. He’d been sewn up by surgeons before, and they’d never done such a fine job of it. He started to sit up to thank her.

That was a grave mistake. For an instant, he thought the old woman had used her cudgel, after all. When he pushed himself up, his brain exploded, and he had no doubt it was now oozing out of his ears and eye sockets. The taste of bilge water bubbled up in his throat.

“A bucket,” he groaned desperately.

The woman was surprisingly strong. She rolled him and held a bucket as his stomach emptied. She’d been ex- pecting this, it appeared. However horrible he was feeling before, it was worse now as the room twisted and rocked and spun. Long stretches of dry heaves wracked his body. “Blood I can deal with,” the old woman grouched from somewhere in the grey haze filling the room. He heaved

again. “By all the saints!”

“I’ll clean up later. Don’t worry about any of this. Go sit by the fire, Jean. You’ve had a long night.”

Cinaed felt a wet cloth swab the back of his neck and his face.

Jean mumbled something unintelligible about “weak- bellied” and “not to be trusted” and “a misery.” When he hazarded a glance at her, she was glaring at him like some demon guarding the gates of hell.

“Does my nephew know that yer a doctor?” she asked, not taking her eyes off of him as she snatched up the knife and handed it to the younger woman.

A doctor! He lifted his head to look at her again. She was definitely a woman. And a fine-looking one, at that. He was still breathing, and she’d done an excellent job on whatever damage had been done to his chest by the bullet. But the possibility of any trained physician, or even a surgeon, being here in this remote corner of the High- lands was so implausible. Male or female.

“John knows.”

“But ye say yer not a midwife,” Jean persisted, a note of disbelief evident in her tone. “And not just a surgeon, in spite of all them fine, shiny instruments in that bag of yers.”

“I trained as a physician at a university. But I’m find- ing that my abilities as a surgeon have more practical uses wherever I go.”

University trained. Cinaed stole another look at her. She had an air of confidence in the way she spoke and acted that convinced him that she was telling the truth. And for the first time since the Highland Crown struck that reef, he wondered if his good fortune was still hold- ing, if only by thread. Lady Luck, apparently, had sent him Airmid, his own goddess of healing.

Long-forgotten words, chanted over some injury, came back to him from childhood. Bone to bone. Vein to vein. Skin to skin. Blood to blood. Sinew to sinew. Marrow to marrow. Flesh to flesh . . .

From the floor, she retrieved a bowl containing bloody cloths. A musket ball lay nestled like a robin’s egg on the soaked rags. By the devil, he thought, his admiration nearly overflowing. She’d not only stitched him together, she’d dug the bullet out of him.

The deuce! He’d never seen anyone like her. Frankly, he didn’t care if she came from the moon to practice medicine here. He owed his life to her.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR:

Authors Nikoo and Jim McGoldrick (writing as May McGoldrick) weave emotionally satisfying tales of love and danger. Under the names of May McGoldrick and Jan Coffey, these authors have written more than thirty novels and works of nonfiction. Nikoo, an engineer, also conducts frequent workshops on writing and publishing and serves as a Resident Author. Jim holds a Ph.D. in Medieval and Renaissance literature and teaches English in northwestern Connecticut. They are the authors of Much ado about Highlanders, Taming the Highlander, and Tempest in the Highlands.

Buy this book: https://us.macmillan.com/books/9781250314987

Author website: https://www.maymcgoldrick.com/

Author Twitter: @MayMcGoldrick

Author Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/MayMcGoldrick/

SMP Romance Twitter: @SMPRomance or @heroesnhearts

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