#meant to talk about this earlier but I had a hellish week | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

eds6ngel · 11 months

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hey! I saw that your requests are open! so i can ask for an eddie x reader where she tries to understand more about d&d or metal, those things to try to please her bf, however eddie doesn't have a good day and ends up mocking and embarrassing her. I liked your account, if you don't like this, please ignore me! 💗

of course my love, i loved this ask! and thank you for the compliment <3

warnings: fem!reader. pet names. established relationship. angst, but it ends in fluff. swearing. j*son c*rver mentions [1.7k]

As Eddie exits the torturous walls of Hawkins High, he exhales a sigh of relief. If he was being honest, today had been a shit day. Jason was in one of his moods where he decided to turn all of his obvious internal issues into spiteful words towards him. Something that on the last day of school of ‘86 was not the ideal send off.

He needed to see one person, one girl. His girl.

Eddie walks over to his van, leaning against it as he lights a cigarette, knowing you, his girlfriend, should be there any minute.

But, two smoked cigarettes later, and you were nowhere to be found. Not a trace of you in sight.

“Fuck,” he grits out, throwing his blunt cigarette on the ground and stomping it out harshly with the heel of his shoe, the underneath becoming more destroyed by the day.

He swings open the door, sliding in his seat before slamming it shut, huffing out in frustration. He puts the keys in, turning on the engine, Metallica’s “Kill ‘Em All” blasting through the speaker as he sets off towards his trailer.

Where the fuck were you?

The sound of the bell ringing alerted the store clerk, you pushing open the door with a nervous expression on your face.

You slowly makes your way to the counter, asking the tall man, “Um, hi. I was wondering if you had the latest album by… um, AC/DC, I think they are called?”

“Sure thing!” he replies cheerily, “You want cassette or vinyl?”

“Um, cassette please, thank you.”

Eddie had been rambling for months about their latest album. He’d already bought the album on vinyl, practicing the newest tracks until his fingers were numb and red. However, he recently talked about owning the album on cassette, that way he could take his latest obsession on the go with him.

So, trying to be the supportive girlfriend you are, you went on a hunt to track down the cassette yourself, even if you weren’t the most knowledgable on metal music. But, hey, it’s the thought that counts, right?

After gnawing at your nails in the middle of the store, the man returns from the back, holding up a brand new cassette.

“Here you go, ‘Who Made Who,’ freshly delivered here this week.”

Huh, the name didn’t sound right. You could’ve sworn this was the album Eddie was talking about. Pretty damn sure the artist was correct too. You were no metalhead, but the constant talkings from your boyfriend sure let you in on a lot of facts.

Nevertheless, you take the tape from the man’s hands, eyeing the cover. A blue background. You were certain Eddie’s was red. Maybe they changed the cover for the cassette release?

“Thank you. Just what I needed,” you replied, smiling through your doubts.

“‘Course darlin’,” he says, “That’s $8.”

After giving the clerk your $10 bill, he gives you $2 in return, before you bid farewell and exit the store.

Now, to surprise Eddie.

It took five knocks before you were greeted with the sight of your boyfriend, his hair a fluffy mess and eyes red. The poor boy looked exhausted.

“Hey, baby,” he practically slurs in tiredness, “What are you doing here?”

It was 5pm. You were meant to meet him at 3:30, the end of the school day. He should be feeling more thankful than he was, but with everything that went on during today’s hellish time at Hawkins High, he was knocking on death’s door, both emotionally and physically.

“Um, hi babe!” you reply, holding your hands behind your back, “I have a surprise for you.”

He looks at you dumbfounded, “Uh, thanks, I guess. Where were you earlier on?”

“Well,” you cheerily say, taking a seat on his couch, “This gift may be the answer to that question.”

You hand over the cassette, Eddie taking it in his hands to eye up the cover, just like you did in the store a mere thirty minutes before.

You start to ramble, explaining the reason as to why you made the purchase, “You’ve been rambling a lot about how you owned this on vinyl, but wanted it on tape so you could blast it in your van, so I decided to go out and buy it for you!”

Eddie looks at the cassette you placed in his hands with the upmost confusion. He’d never spoken about AC/DC recently. The only album he’d rambled about to you was Metallica’s “Master of Puppets,” even showing you how he mastered the solo to the titular song.

He shakes his head, a soft laugh coming out of mouth as he replies, “Jesus babe, your listening skills are not working well recently, are they?”

The sense of pride you felt quickly diminished at Eddie’s harsh words. You second guessed yourself already, but decided to trust Eddie’s words over your own, but maybe your worries were right after all.

“Wait, did I do something wrong?” you ask sheepishly, the nervousness slowly creeping back in.

He chuckles, “Baby,” he looks up at you, “You think this shit is metal? Yeah, because talking about how you want to pound women is what we write about. So incredibly metal babe,” he rolls his eyes, scoffing at the association between the two bands.

Before you can even get a word in, Eddie is rushing to his bedroom as you sit there alone for a couple of seconds, the guilt beginning to settle uncomfortably at the bottom of your stomach.

Eddie was usually very patient when it came to you learning about his hobbies. You were sort of polar opposites in the sense that you knew practically nothing about the aspects of his life that defined him. D&D, metal music, Lord of the Rings? Your knowledge on them was subpar.

But, he was willing to teach you, give you the basics, help you understand him more. It built your relationship in that way. But, something about him today was different. That sense of understanding and patience had flown out of the window, a sense of moral righteousness in the subject taking over.

He quickly returns, holding up the vinyl in his hands. You were right. A red background. Definitely not the same as the cassette you had purchased.

Putting the two side by side, he scoffs again, “Sweetheart, tell me one thing about these two covers that look remotely similar. Because to me, they look like completely different albums.”

You’re trying not to let the tears prick at your eyes. All you wanted to do was show that you supported him in his interests. Living in small town Indiana meant that Eddie was constantly called a “Satan Worshipper” simply for listening to the genre. And now that you were one of the only people who accepted and supported him in his identity, you were met with sarcasm and distaste.

You sigh out, knowing that you had riled up your boyfriend. Grabbing your purse, you stand up and walk towards the door, “I’m just gonna go, Eds.”

This made Eddie snap back to reality, realising the words that were coming out of his mouth. You were indeed no expert on metal, and who was he to judge you for that? He couldn’t expect everyone to know as much as he did.

He places both the cassette and vinyl on the kitchen counter, “Wait, sweetheart, I’m sorry. Let me explain—“

But, you cut him off with a disappointed expression on your face, “No, Eds, it’s okay. I know I suck at knowing metal, and obviously I’ve pissed you off by not listening to you well enough. So, next time, I’ll let you buy it yourself. It’ll save all this hassle.”

The guilt was now settling in Eddie’s stomach just like it did yours. But, before he could muster up some quick apology to save himself, you were out the door and gone.

Eddie leans his head down on the counter between his arms, breathing out a “Fuck,” as he realises his mistake.

He needed to make up for this somehow. And not in some half-assed way that he was making up on the spot. He needed to clear his head and plan this out. He needed to prove himself to you.

Once you got home, you headed straight to your room. You couldn’t be dealing with the weight of Eddie’s words, so you took off your make-up and changed into pyjamas, lying in bed until your body decided it was time to sleep.

But, with your mind racing, your body was doing anything but relaxing. It was 9pm by this point, you wishing that a peaceful slumber would take place any minute.

But, the sound of frantic knocking at your bedroom window alerts you from your relaxation. Groaning as you lift up the covers, you pull back the curtain to the sight of your boyfriend, a guilt-ridden look across his face.

You sigh as you pull up the window, “What do you want, Eddie?”

“Could you just let me in sweetheart, please?”

Begrudgingly, you signal with your arm to let him in, the boy clambering through the window.

He breathes out as you take a seat on the edge of your bed, “I guess I should start by saying sorry.”

You nod your head, “A good starter, yeah,” you softly chuckle.

There’s a small smile that creeps on his face as he takes a seat next to you on your pink-coloured duvet, “I know this is gonna sound more shitty than I want it to, but, today’s been hard babe,” he explains. “Jason… He just… God, I wish he would just leave me alone for a second, you know? And just that frustration from him I pushed onto you, which was totally wrong.”

You shake your head, “I mean, I didn’t help matters by picking up the wrong fucking album.”

He places a soft hand on your arm, rubbing it with his thumb, “Don’t blame yourself, okay? I should’ve been thankful you even put in the effort at all. And if anything,” he leans closer, “Even thinking of getting that album is so incredibly metal.”

The both of you laugh as you lean in, your lips connecting in a soft kiss, an apology without words.

As you part, you lean your foreheads against each other, your hand still cupping the side of his cheek as his lies comfortably on your waist. “Again, I’m sorry,” he apologises, “I’ll work on those anger management skills.”

You breathe out, “And I’ll work on my listening skills, compromise?”

“Compromise.”

i hope this is close to what you were hoping for! thank you so much for the ask <3

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson #eddie munson angst #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson comfort #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson blurb

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chicken-fifi · 9 months

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Lost Connection | pt. 3 | Leeteuk (SuJu)

Pairing: Park Jeongsoo x Fem!Reader

Requested by @still-lurking-and-facepalming: May I request a part 3 of Leeteuk's Lost Connection? He, Y/N's family, and the families of the passengers on the missing plane are in a hellish limbo. There has been no sign of the plane at all. The remains discovered in Pt. 2 did not belong to Y/N, but that's all anyone knows. One day, while a few members are checking in on Leeteuk and Y/N's family, some officials arrive to speak to them. The news isn't good. Leeteuk and Y/N's family are told the search is being scaled down before it will be called off completely.

Genre: angst

Word Count: 1,415 words

A/n: please refer to this reaction as well as the previous two parts of this expansion series (1, 2) for prior events leading up to the events discussed in this imagine. i would like to take the time to say that i didn't think that this would be as much of a hit as it has become when i wrote the original reaction. for both SuJu and 2pm (the only two groups who have this reaction) it has been so much writing these expansions for them. but please give me a moment of happiness here 🥲. i'm dying here

Jeongsoo felt defeated as he left from yet another briefing along with family members of the various other passengers. Only a few weeks ago he had been informed that the remains found had not belonged to you. At first both he and your family were relieved at the news, but it quickly turned to fear once again. Hope only did so much good before it began doing harm. They had hoped that the remains wouldn’t be yours from the start. If they weren’t yours it surely meant that you were alive…or did it only mean that you had died and your final resting place remained unknown?

During the briefing, it was revealed that the remains found did in fact belong to an individual who should’ve been aboard the missing plane, but after checking flight records at the airport, it was found out that they had never boarded the flight. The aircraft was still missing and nothing new was found. There wasn’t even an explanation as to why this person never boarded the plane like they were supposed to.

He sighed deeply as soon as he stepped out of the building, cameras flashing as reporters began swarming everyone that’d just left the conference wanting to get the latest scoop regarding the plane that seemingly vanished into thin air with some of the nation’s most renowned journalists onboard. Not to mention that one of those journalists was the significant other of one of the nation's oldest promoting K-Pop groups. It was the talk of the century and his ongoing hiatus as well as total silence on all social media platforms was making it even bigger than it had to be - for him.

Why was everyone interested in him when they should be covering you and your coworkers? What was so important about his thoughts instead of advocating for others to help in the search?

“Leeteuk-ssi, is there any new information regarding your girlfriend’s disappearance?”

“Were the remains found those of Ms. (y/l/n)?”

“Where does your relationship with her family and the family of the other victims currently stand?”

He was utterly appalled by the questions pushing forward without sparing a single glance at any of the reporters. Your family who had initially been directly behind him was surrounded by reporters as they tried to keep up, forcing him to go back and physically pull away from them not caring if more than a few vulgar words left his mouth directed at the reporters. Would he regret it later? Probably, but now was not the time and they knew better.

~~~

A Week Later…

The food your mother had dropped off earlier in the week sat untouched before him. Today was one of the rare days where they weren’t all holed up in his apartment. He wished they were though. The silence was slowly getting to him, eating away at his mind. He was positive that nothing he was doing was mentally good for him, but he couldn’t help it. Without you around everything seemed so bleak. A dark, cold, lifeless cave waiting to be sealed.

His ringing doorbell got his attention. Normally Koongie would run over barking at the door, but ever since you’d been gone she seemed to be just as depressed as he was - opting to stay laying on the floor without moving. Opening the door, he instantly felt like shutting it again, not really in the mood to see anyone, but Heechul’s hand grabbed it, pulling it out of his grip.

“We’re coming in whether you like it or not,” he declared, stepping forward. “It’s not good for you to be sitting here alone during this time. Even if we can’t physically do something to help, at least let us be here to make sure you’re physically alright.”

Jeongsoo took a step back allowing the eight men to enter his apartment without complaint. He knew they were right. Even if he had a tough time admitting it.

Donghae, who was the last to enter, didn’t hesitate before pulling him into a firm hug. He returned it, not realizing how much he needed it at that moment. Pulling away he gave him a grim, tight-lipped smile before going back to the kitchen, a spark of irritation forming as he saw Hyukjae messing around in his fridge, before it went away. Even that was comforting right now.

“My mom told me to give you this,” Jonghoon said, holding up a plastic container. “She remembered it being your favorite since our trainee days and hopes it’ll give you a bit of an appetite…you’ve lost a lot of weight Hyung.”

He couldn’t deny that. But he also couldn’t deny the guilt that formed wherever he ate something. Either way, he thanked his friend and promised to eat every last bite to please his mother and ease her mind. Soon, although awkward and a bit odd, his apartment got a bit more lively as they all tried to lighten the mood. Before long, your family had arrived, not being able to handle the quietness of their own home, being warmly welcomed with hugs and hot tea to ease their nerves.

For the first time in a long time, everyone found themselves laughing as they reminisced over something that had happened early on in your relationship. It felt odd, laughing without feeling sad, but it was a good change. But that all changed far too soon as his doorbell rang again. Instantly the air went cold. All the life was sucked out of it as Jeongsoo stood to go see who it was, not bothering to check the live feed thinking it could be someone else from the company there to check on him. He should’ve checked it this time.

“Mr. Park,” the officer greeted, his face even more grim than the last time he’d been there. “How are you doing?”

Chills went down his spine. Not once in the time that officers and other officials had been coming to his door with any sort of update had any of them asked how he’d been doing. At least not that he could remember at that moment. Many sets of footsteps came down the hall all stopping when he saw the officer.

“I see you have some company, are Ms. (y/l/n)’s relatives present as well?” he asked, avoiding eye contact with everyone.

Your mother stepped forward, now standing beside Jeongsoo, her expression weary, “To what do we owe the visit? Have you found something?”

The officer looked away before motioning for someone to come from down the hall. It was one of the officials who was in charge of leading the search - or at least organizing and funding it. Of everyone on the board of directors involved, she’d been one of the few who had fought the most to get things done, often being overlooked by other members of the board, but not the family. Of course, neither Jeongsoo nor your family had actually met her alone, only seeing her during the brief meetings and information update sessions, but she looked genuinely upset. Almost afraid to say whatever it is she had to say to them.

“I’m afraid it’s not good,” she said, hands wringing. “The board funding the searches has just voted to reduce funding for the search. It’ll scale it back before ultimately halting the search completely in a matter of weeks. A few of us are still trying to overturn the decision, but I wanted to let you, as well as the other families involved, of this decision in person instead of having you find out through the news or at a press conference. I’m incredibly sorry.”

One of your brothers rushed forward gripping the woman’s collar spewing a plethora of colorful words, struggling to be pulled away by the officer, his two other brothers along with your father and two of his own members - Donghee and Kyuhyun. Your mother, your poor mother, stood there gawking at the information, turning to look at him before her legs gave out, collapsing to the floor, just barely being grabbed by Jeongsoo and Siwon. Ryeowook was quick to step back, clearing the bench at the end of the hallway for her to sit on as she howled in pain. Her aged hands gripped his biceps as he kneeled before her trying to make sure she wasn’t hurt rather than processing his own thoughts.

“My baby!” she cried. “My poor baby! They’re never going to find my baby!”

#kpop imagines #kpop scenarios #super junior #super junior masterlist #super junior imagines #super junior scenarios #super junior park jeongsoo #leeteuk #park jeongsoo #leeteuk imagines #leeteuk scenarios #park jeongsoo imagines #park jeongsoo scenarios

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feverdreamjohnny · 2 years

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Olden Times of Nowhere, MI

It's always funny to refer to something that's only been developed for like, 10 months as "old," but what can you do in the world of the cutting edge? Where everything from a week ago is old hat?

ANYWAY I am insomniac at the moment so I decided I would talk about some fun tidbits that changed after Nowhere MI's conception, since the project's story planning has received many, many pages of lore in the past few months.

THE ORIGINAL GAME:

The original James wasn't going to Nowhere to find his brother. In fact, the "original James" wasn't James at all! It was a voiceless character with no real identity who's sole purpose was as an avatar for the player.

The player would've been driving their car before they get into a wreck (after swerving to dodge a clown), and wake up dazed and confused in the eloquently titled "Hell Town." The locals stole all of your car parts as a prank and you had to go on a journey to retrieve them all in order to leave. To do this, you would simply get a double jump and the ability to grind on floating veins leading to other locations. That was the full extent of the original game's mechanics and story. No brothers, no gun, no dodging, no inventory, no upgrades, no real protagonist. Just simple platforming and silly NPCs. It was heavily inspired by Crypt Worlds after all, and scope-wise it was meant as a short Patreon-exclusive game to remind my supporters why they supported me month after month.

The original location (that would eventually become Nowhere Crossing) was sparse and flat, with strange cubic buildings towering up into the sky, each emitting a distinctly colored "radio bubble" off an antenna at their peak, which was used to help mark where each building would take you. There were no unique characteristics for the buildings outside of that, and there were no locks gating progress, instead the sole thing keeping you from moving forward was whether or not you had the required upgrade to clear whatever platforming challenge lied ahead. I ended up changing this because I wanted the beginning of Nowhere to feel more restrained so you could actually map out the space BEFORE it branches out into a non-linear adventure, instead of being immediately thrown several locations to go and no way to actually explore them until you came back later.

There was also a scrapped hub character named "Doctor Louis" who the player could talk to that was just a kid in a greyscale, heavily-edited luigi halloween costume. The joke was that Doctor Louis gives toddlers steroids and enters them into pitbull arenas. That was it. Anyway it's not hard to see why he was scrapped in favor of "Local (Big Juicy Ass)," a modern classic in character design.

There was also a stronger emphasis on clowns for some reason. This was eventually replaced with monkeys that all had their own specific theme (Building monkey likes the tower! Sexual monkey stands by the weird meat area! Wow! I hate it!), which ultimately led to funnier non-sequitur gags.

Anyhow what was there was really short, and it didn't get far before I got sidetracked to work on a collab project that winter, so the project went dormant for months before I resumed it earlier this year, and began to try and make it worth shipping to Patreon. It was during this revival period a big change came in the form of Concord.

HERE COMES THE GUN, DOO DOO DOO DOO~:

I eventually committed the cadinal sin of adding a gun to a game that didn't need it. Because I was bored. And needed something to spice the game up.

There was no combat planned at this point, instead the gun was an amusement tool that would let the player pick dialog options by shooting them, and if the player felt particularly incensed by a character, they could obliterate them for fun. At this time the upgrade that would eventually be named "Concord" was just a faceless firearm called "Inner Darkness," since I liked the idea that getting the gun turned a fun little adventure in a weird town into some kind of hellish power fantasy where it was up to the player to decide whether or not they would randomly shoot all of the townsfolk on a whim.

Originally NPCs would die permanently when shot to death, and as a result the game was going to be designed such that NPCs had no major connection to progress. This changed when I decided to give the gun a face and a name, and before long, a sweet and pacifistic personality in complete juxtaposition to its intended function. This was the beginning of "Concord the Sentient Revolver," and as such I made it so NPCs respawned after death with a lore reason that made killing inconsequential, that way there'd be no guilt associated with the fun of exploding a monkey into meaty gibs because you were bored.

THE OLD GODS:

Prior to the game's connection to a larger story I had been writing, the earliest incarnation of Nowhere, MI proper had its own world lore involving some kind of god-level cataclysmic event. There was once a figure named "Big Brother" who was responsible for sculpting all of the supernatural lifeforms the player comes across out of a base element called rot (the weird meat part of Slumber District, the little shadow guys, the hell divers, etc. were all big brother's creations). This idea didn't last long before he was retired in favor if the poltergeist/zeitgeist system the game has today, which cites a global reactor detonation as the source of the game's weirder content.

I'll probably have more fun stuff to talk about some other time (like more tidbits from early in the game's development), but for now that's all, folks. It's 7:30 AM, and Johnny needs sleepy.

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pegasus-ghost · 2 years

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I’m so fucking weak.

I want to remember this moment so I’m jotting this memory down.

For the past week, I’ve been suffering from some mild discomfort and joint paints on my neck and shoulder, I suspect it came from bad posture when I slept. It’s been really uncomfortable and I’ve been stretching my neck and shoulder and did random neck and shoulder exercises through those week.

That dull pain yesterday started to turn into a mild headache, also partly due to me napping in the evening these days. When I talk to my mom last dinner about my mild headache at the time, she said I might have high blood pressure that’s causing all these headaches and I need to check that out. Sigh. I fucking hate doctor trips. But I think she might be right. Napping also would always gives me headaches but I can’t help feeling sleepy af. I took 4 painkillers, hoping it would eventually kill it off.

I was so fucking wrong.

I woke up at around 1.30am in the morning with an extremely POUNDING migraine on the right side of my brain. Like, on a scale of 1 - 10, this was a 9 to 10 level. It was so fucking PAINFUL. I tried laying down in the dark and not move, because I remembered my mom used to tell me she had migraines and she avoided sound, light, and not move, and try to get some sleep. I tried that. Didn’t work.

I’ve experienced headaches and migraines before. I’m not a stranger to this. I’m generally healthy from diseases and haven’t even gotten covid yet till this day. But I regularly suffer from inflamed sinus issues, flu, blocked nose, headaches, migraines, like ALL the time.

But boy oh boy. This fucking migraine. This time it hits DIFFERENT. This time it hits me HARD. Like level 9 to 10 kinda HARD.

I got up and went to the washroom, got naked, and reluctantly wash my entire body and head with cold shower. I feel like it’s Fucked up that I’m familiar with this kinda pain to know immediately what to do when it hits me. It hit me this bad too when I went to San Francisco, and when I was in my condo in the city that one time. All three times happened with me waking up in the middle of the night with extremely pounding migraine like SERIOUSLY. CRIPPLING LEVEL.

After I showered, I forced myself to throw up. Then, I went down and took two more painkillers (while my dads parrot in the kitchen judges me going down in the dark only in towels randomly at night looking for painkillers). Then, I went to bed.

And on bed, before I tried to get to sleep, I prayed to god. I desperately prayed to god to help me. To take this pain away from me. I feel guilty asking for that too, because I know what this pain meant. This pain was a sign from god to help me wash away my sins by giving me worldly pains so I don’t have to be punished in hell for them. I know that’s what it’s for, and god cares so much for me and wanted to save me from that so He gave me this crippling level migraine, a worldly level pain comparing to hellish pain in the afterlife so I’m washed from my sins.

But fuck, man. I can’t even bear THIS migraine. I can barely function. I even prayed poorly the night before because I was too preoccupied with the headache. I prayed to god still, asking Him to help me with this pain although I know it’s for my own good. I was constantly reminded of how fucking weak I was, for asking Him to heal me and being unable to face worldly pain. How am I going to bear hell if I were to be sent to hell? I’m so fucking weak. But I still asked for His help anyways because I remember reading in the Quran that He asked us not to give up on Him and his blessings, and He encouraged that we seek Him for help whenever we have hardships.

Then I woke up for morning prayers.

What do you know? God listened to my prayers.

I woke up with my head feeling light. No more pounding migraines. No more headaches. Not even the dull aching neck and shoulder pain. It has turned into a level 2 headache. Very dull comparing to the pounding migraine earlier.

Fuck.

He listened. And he granted my prayers. He listened to my prayers and he granted it.

I prayed later that morning and I cried after I was done. And I prayed to Him again. Feeling guilty and weak. I cried. I thanked him again and again and again for listening to my prayers and helped me with the pain as I requested. He is indeed extremely powerful, that He can just made it happen and take it away just as easy. And He is extremely merciful and loving that he cared enough to listen to a nobody like me with sins all over my shoulders, who wronged him so many time, He still listens to a shit person like me and granted my wish to be healed from the pain he initially granted to wash my sins away.

I feel so small and weak. And I feel a mixed emotion of guilt and grateful. I cried in my prayers thanking him. And I just sat there on the praying May for a while to reflect on what a shit person I was for asking such a thing from God and He even listened and granted me what I want despite being nearly nowhere as good as his loyal followers. But I was grateful, extremely fucking grateful that He listened. I felt loved and touched to the core as to how He listened and showed me proof that He heard my prayers.

Sigh. I just…. I can’t even deal with worldly level pains. How am I going to hell?

God, save me. Please.

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levixreader · 3 years

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Dad!Levi x Mum!Reader - It's Just a Hobby

Charlotte: French name meaning freedom Summary: You woke up alarmed at the metallic shriek echoing in your room. Your angry husband sat a the far end of the room... sharpening his blades?... at three in the morning? Oh God, what did Charlotte do this time.

Warning: Pure fluffiness, Levi deserves happiness ;v;

Inspired by @cakeswashere prompt:

Y/N: are you angry? or...

Levi: no.

Y/N: so sharpening your blades at 3am is just a hobby then?

Daughter of Mine(Chapter I)| Master List|Requests| Next Chapter

It's Just a Hobby

Sheeeeeeek

It was a sharp, almost metallic in nature shriek. You tossed in your sleep, your brain still half unconscious.

Had you imagined it?

It sounded familiar. Where you having another dream of your time at the Corps?

All this talk about Charlotte joining the military was definitely not doing you any favours. It was scratching at the back of your head the obscure memories you kept hidden away. Ever since you had pushed Levi into taking her to work, every night, without fail, the deformed hands of your demons came to grab you at night.

Yesterday Levi had shaken you awake. You were sweating in your sleep, haunted by the last expression of your friends, of your family. Some nights, your dreams were so vivid that you were convinced that the life you had now was… imagined.

How had Charlotte convinced you that it was a good idea to join? Ah, yes, her unwavering spirit. Stubborn and passionate to the core, just like her father. Erwin had earned Levi and his constant devotion to the cause had earned Charlotte.

Truly, she had worn you down. She would talk as if she had been in the military for as long as she was alive. She had convinced every single one of her friends to join. Of course, she had worn you down. Children, you had discovered, had a way to make you feel like you could endure anything as long as it made them happy. Even if that meant spinning directly into a titan’s jaws. You shivered. Tonight, marked the beginning of winter and with it the fast approach of harsh months.

How could you selfishly stand in her way? She was the carbon copy of your husband, down to his unhuman like traits. She was fast and strong, but that didn’t make her cocky, it made her aware of just how far she could go. So when she had implored you to let her join the military… You caved because you knew your daughter, nothing you could say, not even the hellish nightmares you conjured now, would deter her from joining.

Levi could though. You didn’t have the heart or the will power to stand against her, she was, after all, a force of nature like Levi. So, it made sense that he could and did stand against her. So firmly opposed that he would rather sacrifice his relationship with her than watch her wear forest green.

I would never want to feel responsible if something were to happen to you.

His words had rung deep within you. Levi was strong, the strongest in fact. He had carried with his best friend’s death, carried the guilt of every death, carried the title of strongest, but, he could never carry the responsibility of the death of his only child.

Your heart ached. For months now, you had tried to convince yourself that you already waited with your heart of your throat every time Levi sat you down at the kitchen table to tell you there would be a new excursion. You could do the same with Charlotte. Right?

It was different. You knew it was different. You were all too aware of it. So, you settled. Settled to be thankful that where you lack the willpower, Levi could. Maybe, you had thought, that having her shadow Levi for a couple of days would show her a glimpse into a world she could never have thought of. You hadn’t. Not even Levi, who lived in the underground, had.

Sheeeeeek

You shot up. Straight up.

That had been the sound of a knife getting sharpened.

In a panic, your eyes scanned the room, your hand already reaching for your bedside table, inching into the drawer on the hidden weapon inside. You could feel your heart lodged in your trachea. All you could think was of your daughter and how to get to her as quick as possible. But, then, your eyes landed at the corner at the far back. It was Levi, seated in the leather chair he liked so much.

Relief, ice-cold relief washed over your stiffened body. Instantly, you relaxed at the sight of the familiar presence. Your heart unable to dislodge from your throat, the exhaustion weighing down at your body once again.

What the hell was he doing?

Shreeeeeeek

You felt a new wave of alertness wash over you. Something glimmered, you squinted, your tiered eyes fell to his lap.

There was a blade.

Shreeeeeeek

He was sharpening his blades.

He was sharpening his blades at three in the morning.

Oh, God.

Shreeeeeeek

Cried the sound of metal. He was hunched in the chair, hadn’t bothered taking off his uniform, or boots for that matter. His right leg on top of his left thigh. One of his blades rested across his lap. You sat there watching as he expertly manoeuvred the blade making it glimmer even in the darkest of nights.

Something was bothering him.

You sighed, the adrenalin leaving your body. It had been a minute since you last felt it course through your body like earlier. You had genuinely thought that there had been an intruder in the house. You were a light sleeper, years retired from the military could never kill that habit. It had saved you more than once.

You wouldn’t be able to go back to sleep until you untangled whatever Levi’s brain was scrambling. It was Charlotte, you were sure of it. After the little incident at the beginning of the week, she had somehow squeezed a promise to not react like he did that day. How she did it you would never know. It took years -years- to get him to not impulsively confront any man that would even slightly look at you the wrong way. You were certain that something must have happened again and the frustration of being powerless had him sitting, sharpening his disposable blades at such an ungodly hour.

This was it. The time had come to have “The Talk” with Levi. You had been preparing for this ever since Charlotte turned sixteen. You had already noticed the attention she garnered whenever she accompanied you to the market. How some of her oldest male friends would stare a second too long. It was bound to happen eventually. You had prepared for it, Levi… not so much.

“Morning”, you said the bedsheets still pooled at your waist. Even with the window closed, you could feel the cold air prickling your skin, like small needles. He frowned, not really expecting you to wake up. He had already spent an hour on his other blades, this was his last one. “How was work today?”, you insisted. He grunted. He at least acknowledged you. He wasn’t feeling all that talkative at the moment.

Shreeeeeek

The sound of the metal echoing across the room. This man was impossible. Like father, like daughter, two stubborn mules unwilling to bend or move in their convictions. You were convinced that when God created stubbornness, Levi was first in line, closely followed by Charlotte.

“Somethings never change”, you thought shaking you head slightly. Unceremoniously, you yanked the sheets from your lower body. You shivered, the cold air now attacking your legs. Levi’s face remained turned down, his eyes, however, sneaked a peek at you. He had heard you move. You were, to his dismay, heading towards his direction. He noticed the hair of your forearms standing to attention. You were cold. He clicked his tongue; he wasn’t ready to go to bed, anger still bubbling at his feet. He frowned, returning his attention at the weapon in his hand.

Shreeeeeeek

“Are are you angry?”, he heard you ask softly. No answer. You grouched in front of his legs so that your face was in his direct eyesight. He gripped the handle of the blade, his eyes moving to observe the end of it. He was avoiding you. “no.”, he curtly answered. He looked stoic. “Stubborn, stubborn man”, you thought. You placed a numbed hand on his twisted knee. His eyebrows knitted together refusing to look at you, opting to look at your hand. You looked paler than usual.

Did she have another nightmare?

You smiled amused, “So sharpening your blades at three in the morning is just a hobby then?”, you asked sarcastically. His frown deepened, he didn’t answer. “Tell me what’s bothering you”, you pushed, the tips of your fingers going a bit numb. He sighed knowing you weren’t going to let this go and if needed would freeze half to death until he talked. “And you think Charlotte is stubborn because of me”, he thought. Charlotte, he frowned again the anger bubbling up again.

“Is it Charlotte?”, you asked, even softer than before. You gripped his knee in reassurance. He sighed again, of course, you would know exactly what was bothering him. He couldn’t hide anymore. “I can’t believe she is sixteen”, you said truthfully.

Sixteen years went by like nothing, one day she was too small to even reach the kitchen counter and the next she had a queue of boys lined up. “Fucking hormonal teenagers”, he thought to himself glaring down at the polished blade. He wanted to break the thing in two.

“Our brat is an adult now”, you said giggling pulling him again out of his thoughts. His eyes lifted slightly to look at you, clearly disagreeing with your opinion. Charlotte wasn’t an adult; she was just a brattier brat. “Did one of the cadets flirt with her again?”, you asked smiling sympathetically. His eyes widened and immediately narrowed to the point you thought he had closed his eyes. His jaw clenched, his grip on the weapon made his knuckles turn white.

“A boy”, he corrected. You smiled sadly at his words. “You know she is at that age”, you said earning you a glare. “You know I’m right”, you insisted. He clicked his tongue. You were right. That doesn’t mean he had to voice it. “I know this is very hard for you”, you continued, he looked pained. It had taken everything in him today to not march and punch the titan shifter straight in the face. He knew the look he was giving Charlotte; it was the same look he had given you. He felt his chest burn.

His eyes looked pained, the cold controlled captain melting away. You wanted to hug him, console him and tell him that his baby was still just that: a baby. That Charlotte would not grow up and that she would always call him ‘Daddy’. But this would only hurt him more and would do Charlotte a disservice as her mother.

“Here”, you said standing up offering a hand for him to take. He looked at your hand, eyebrow cocked upwards with curiosity. You rolled your eyes, “Well, take it”, you insisted shaking your hand. Cautiously, he placed his free hand on yours. His eyes narrowing when he felt how cold your fingers felt. In a quick movement, he rested the sharpened blade against the nearest wall and grabbed with both his hands the hand you had offered. “You’re cold”, he commented, making you roll your eyes again at him. “Well hurry up then”, you answered pulling him up. He pouted, finally complying with your request.

You pulled him out of the room towards the hallway in front of Charlotte’s room. His frown returned, “What are we doing here”, he asked, not appreciating the surprise. “Shh”, you said tightening your hold on his hand. As carefully as you could you opened the door to your daughter’s room. She looked tranquil, completely at ease. “Look”, you whispered moving out of the way. Reluctantly, he peaked into Charlotte’s room. His eyes softened and his chest, previously burning with anger, filled with warmth. She looked like a child hugging her favourite stuffed animal. “She isn’t quite an adult yet”, you whispered, “not because some boy is flirting with her means she stopped growing”.

He sighed closing the door just as carefully as you had opened it.

“Let’s have another one”, he said turning to look at you straight to your eyes. “What?”, you said in complete shock. “Let’s have another one”, he repeated closing the gap between the both of you. “What?”, you repeated louder, his hands grabbing your hips. “I said”, he whispered pulling you towards him, “Let’s”, you heard him next to your ear, “have”, you felt his breath on your neck, his nose caressing the base of your neck, “another one”. His teeth dug into your soft skin.

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enchantedblackrose · 3 years

Text

Like I Love You

Jay Halstead/Plus sized Reader

Summary: Jay arrives at your apartment to pick you up for a date, but you're filled with self doubt.

¡Warnings! This potentially could be triggering. Poor body image, possible body dysmorphia, specific mentions of feelings of not being enough because of physical appearance

<Please, please lmk if I need to add any warnings.>

Loosely inspired by One Direction's Little Things

Like I Love You

Your head throbs as hot tears of frustration continue to fall from your eyes.

It was absolutely ridiculous to be this upset trying to pick out a decent outfit. After all, you've been successfully dressing yourself since age three.

But you don't have the mindset of a toddler. You're a jaded young woman with society's disgusting definition of beauty constantly shoved in your face.

Deep down you know better. You know that the numbers on the scale give no indication of your beauty nor do they dictate your worth.

Sighing and trying to remind yourself that you are pretty, you again glance in the full length mirror. Standing there in nothing more than a top and underwear, fresh tears immediately fill your eyes. You only see flaws. Resisting the urge to poke at the cellulite near your thighs, you focus on your shirt. But the sleeves are cutting into your arms making them look weird. No, not weird. Fat. The too tight sleeves cause your arms to bulge. And the material clings to your soft tummy. You pinch the excess belly fat between your thumbs and index fingers, wishing you could squeeze it away.

You feel so ugly and gross. Angrily you pull the shirt off and throw it clear across your bedroom, where it joins a pair of jeans you couldn't breathe in and numerous other offending articles of clothing. None of which you look good in either.

You find an oversize t-shirt and slip it on before you just collapse on that very spot of plush carpeting.

Tears still roll down your face. All you wanted was something cute to wear. To be pretty. And go out with your boyfriend for a date night. He's a detective for the Chicago police department. The hours are already long and sometimes abnormal, but this week he, and the rest of the special unit he's a part of, were logging extra hours on a particular difficult case. You haven't seen much of each other recently so you were especially giddy when you received his text earlier in the day saying there had been a break in the case which meant he could swing by your place and take you out on a proper date. Your reply had been almost immediate, telling him how wonderful that sounded.

You were surprised to hear from him again, still promising to take you out, but proposing you both meet up with his coworkers after dinner for some drinks. He included "begging" and "puppy dog eyes" in the message.

Though you wanted to, you couldn't exactly say no for several reasons. You had already agreed to the date, so he knew you were free. Part of you suspected that he had done it on purpose. You'd accuse your favorite detective of entrapment later.

You also were fully aware how much Jay wanted to introduce you to the coworkers he considered friends, having been invited to go out with them several times before. You kept putting it off.

Not because you had no interest in meeting everyone. Rather, the idea fed your worst insecurities.

What if they don't think I'm good enough? They're going to wonder what he sees in me. Then Jay will start wondering too.

Wanting to do this solely for Jay's benefit, believing he deserved this after the hellish week at work, you went to your bedroom to plan your outfit. That's how you ended up in this nightmare. You only want to look your best, like you belong with Jay.

Nothing in your closet said that though. The truth of the matter was no one like him should be with someone who looks like you.

Cries turn to sobs. You draw your knees to your chest, hugging them tightly.

You hear the door to your apartment unlock, Jay using his copy of your key to let himself in. Hastily, you wipe at your face, not wanting him to see you like this; yet you can't find the will to stand. A loud, nasally sniff escapes you.

"Babe?" His still unaware voice calls out from the hallway. "I got us reservations." You don't answer back right away and you hear his footsteps approach.

Having found you, he stops in the doorway. "Whoa. What kind of nuclear clothing explosion happened here?" He indicates to the mounds of clothes which surround you and cover the better part of the carpet and bed. His laughter dies as soon as he sees your tear-streaked, puffy face. "What's wrong? Are you hurt?" his worry evident in both his voice and light eyes. He looks you up and down, frantically searching for any sign of what has you like this.

You mumble incoherently.

"What?"

"I don't have anything to wear."

"The floor begs to differ," he teases. You glare back, in no mood for jokes no matter how well intended. He holds up his hands signaling he meant no harm before he pulls you to your feet. "What's going on?" You huff a heavy sigh in reply. His hand caresses your cheek and softly "hmms?" at you encouragingly.

"Nothing fits right," you confess. He hesitates unsure how to respond, so you continue. "I look extra fat in everything."

Jay frowns. "I doubt that very much. You always look good. I love how you look dolled up when we go out and I love when you're in an old tee and sweats."

"That's nice of you to say-"

"Well I didn't say it to be nice. I said it because it's true," he cuts you off.

You give a tiny, weak smile. "I hate how I look." Your voice cracks. New tears sting your eyes.

He brushes the few teardrops that manage to escape with his thumb. "Baby, what are you talking about? You're beautiful." His voice is soft with a hint of sadness hearing you talk this way.

"This is not beautiful." You pat your flabby stomach, then your thighs.

Carefully stepping to avoid the clothes which litter the floor, Jay makes his way to your bed and sits on the edge, still mindful of the garments piled there as well. He opens his arms, indicating for you to sit on his lap.

"My huge ass will probably crush you," you mutter.

"Baby-"

Exasperated you throw your arms up, "I look nothing like you!"

"Well I'm a guy and you're not so…"

"Stop. I mean you look like a freaking model. That face and those abs for days." You catch him looking smug, no doubt a witty remark is at his lips, but one glance at you and he leaves it unsaid. You continue. Your voice hushed, "I'm afraid of what people might think or say when they see us together. It's why I've been so reluctant to meet your friends."

His eyes sadden. He reaches for you, gently pulling you to his lap. When he speaks, his voice is soft, but stern, almost begging you to believe his words. "I'm sorry you feel that way. I honestly had no idea, but listen to me, please. The only people who get a say about our relationship are in this room right now, okay? So our opinions are the only ones that matter. You. Are. Beautiful." He pauses only to shush you when he sees your mouth open. "The way your mind works fascinates me. Your sense of humor is amazing. You continuously show compassion for others, which in this world is not always easy. I swear your goodness is innate. Your laugh is intoxicating. When you smile...I wish you could see how your face lights up and your body turns me on exactly how it is. I have never been attracted to anyone as much as I am to you. I love you."

Jay's words move you, but they're not enough to silence your insecurities. "Even though I don't have a thigh gap?"

His brows furrow. "I...don't know what that means."

"It means my thighs touch each other. They're not supposed to."

"Says who?"

"...society."

"Society's ugly, not you or your thighs." His fingers trace nondescript patterns on the bare skin in question. "Besides, thick thighs save lives."

"Jay!" You laugh despite yourself. He smiles in return and presses his lips to your temple.

"I love you too. You know that, right?" You ask, realizing you hadn't said it back and he nods. A hand intertwines with his as you look in his eyes, "I'm sorry I'm such a mess."

"You're not. We all have insecurities or things we don't like about ourselves. I just wish you weren't so hard on yourself. I'm sorry too if you felt I was putting pressure on you to meet everyone."

"Not at all," you shake your head. "That's just me being me."

"Still, if my friends have a problem with us being together for any reason, they're not the people I think they are. Truly though, they'd love you. Hell, if we didn't show up together I could see one of them hitting on you," Jay pauses if imagining it. "But seriously. They'd adore you. First, because they're going to see firsthand how good you are for me. Then because you're you. Funny, smart-"

"But I want to be pretty, Jay. And look like we belong together."

Jay sighs, but not out of frustration with you. He's only concerned."You are. And we do. I know nothing I say is going to magically change how you see yourself...I get that. You have to be the one to work this out. I really wish you could see yourself through my eyes and love yourself like I love you. Maybe then you'd understand you're so worthy of self-love. I promise, I'm right here and I'm going to keep reminding you how beautiful you are in hopes you'll start to see it."

Your hand caresses his cheek as you fight the urge to cry again. He leans into your touch. "You do help," you tell him because it's true and to reassure him. "I'm so lucky to have you. I'm really going to try to not be so down on myself. Besides. I really don't want to ruin any more of our nights."

He waves you off. "A night trying to get you to see your beauty is not ruined. And the night's still young. We'll do whatever you're up for. Go out for a bit. Stay in and order food. Whatever."

A small smile appears on your face. You quickly peck his lips with yours. "I just want to wash my face before we do anything." Jay nods. You slide off his lap and head to your bathroom across the hall.

The light flickers for a second as soon as you hit the switch. You go to the sink, turning the water on and letting it run to get to the perfect temperature. Standing there, you glance into the vanity mirror. Your face is still slightly puffy with a few soft pink splotches across your cheeks from all your crying. You splash the water on your face and repeat the action several more times before using a fluffy towel to pat dry your face. You stare back into the mirror. And smile. It reaches your eyes and illuminates your face. You reach a realization. However fleeting or permanent, you don't know. But right now in this moment, you feel it.

You're pretty.

#jay halstead #jay halstead x reader #jay halstead imagine #jay halstead x you #plus size reader #chicago pd #chicago pd imagine

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league-of-thots · 3 years

Text

YeeHawks

Pairing: Hawks x female reader

Word Count: 3.3k+

Warnings: 18+, alcohol, riding, is cowboy kink a warning?

A/N: not the way y’all wanted me to return, but the way y’all deserve lol. i didnt really have the energy to give it an in depth edit but sometimes it be like that

You wipe the sweat from your brow, the sun is high in the bright, cloudless sky. It means that the heat is just pouring down in waves from the sky though, and you curse the fact that you’d agreed to switch shifts with one of the other farmhands that had asked you the day before. Part of you wants to find Kirishima and reem him out, but you know he’s a sweetheart and wouldn’t have ever done something that would make things harder for you on purpose.

Having said that, imagining giving the man a piece of your mind makes it easier for you to grit your teeth and put your back into heaving large packets of grains into a wheelbarrow for the pigs, so that you wouldn’t have to make as many trips. Instead, it would just be one hellish trip, and a lot less walking in the heat.

Wiping the stray dirt on your pants you sigh. You feel sticky and can feel the grit on your face, on your arms. You must smell something fierce, though you know compared to the pigs you’d be feeding in a few minutes, you smelt like a bed of flowers.

You feel the strain on your back as you finally finish loading the wheelbarrow and start to haul it over to the south side of the Academy farm. The ground is rough, and you feel the jarring of the weight in your shoulders, you’re going to be so sore tomorrow.

After you finish feeding the pigs, you take the supplies back to where they belong and head off to start some of your final tasks of the day. One is milking the cows, and the other being your favourite, plowing some of the dirt to prepare for the new season.

Is it a bit stupidly cliché that you love riding the big tractor while the sun lowers in the sky? Maybe. Is it worth it? Absolutely. It’s one of the best views you’ve seen in your life. Plus, it always helps clear your mind from a day of hard work so that when you enter one of the farmhouses, you’re ready to do whatever else you need to get done.

When you park the tractor back to its spot in the barn, you see a few of the other farmhands talking together. They’re laughing with one another, and you wave to them as you walk out with your overcoat and keys.

You’re in a daze until you realize you’ve somehow already started up a warm shower, standing under the steam to relieve your body from the stress of the day. Your muscles feel so much better with the hot water on them and the steam makes you feel as if you’re in stasis. It’s good because tomorrow is going to be a big day, the August festival, a celebration that the community holds as a sort of last hurrah before the season gets busy once again.

After you’re clean and put together, you head downstairs to have a quick conversation with the couple other farmhands that share the house with you. You need to check if there’s anything else you need to do to help with the final preparations for tomorrow. The four of you had made some homebrew cider to share with the other townspeople, and it tasted quite good, despite being a little heavy on the alcohol. But nobody would be complaining about that, of course.

“Mmm, I think its fine.” Mina says, faced scrunched up in thought. “We did pretty well with it for sure.”

“I agree,” you reply. “Just wanted to make sure I could pass out for the night. I’m fucking dead.” She laughs a little at that.

“Gotta make sure you have the energy for tomorrow. I hear that it’s going to be extra wild.” She waggles her eyebrows. “You know that there’s going to be a horse-ridin’ performance from our sheriff’s department, but there’s also gonna be some cowboys over here to show off some of their skills too.”

You’re slightly intrigued at that. Maybe, you’ll even get to see him again… but, better not get your hopes up too much. Instead, you say, “That would definitely be a treat for all the hard work that this year’s been.”

Mina nods sagely at that. “If I see that blonde, twink of a cowboy I’m goin’ to make him my bitch. Because I deserve it.” That brings a snort out of you, but you pray a little for Denki if you do see him tomorrow, because lord knows he’s going to need it.

The two of you chat for a little while longer before you wish her a good night and head up to get some rest. You do have a busy day to get ready for after all.

You wake up early the next day, ready to quickly get your tasks done so you can let loose with friends and community members that night. You wish that you don’t have to do any work, but you can’t have everything you want.

So, you drag yourself out of bed, muscles tight and body sore, to quickly grab a protein bar and a cleaner pair of working clothes. Your overalls are starting to sport holes and there are some dark stains that just won’t ever come off. You need new ones, you think, as you walk towards the horse pen.

You love the horses, how sweet most of them are and how peaceful it is in their separated area. It’s especially nice in the early morning, with a crisp breeze and the sun peeking out on the horizon. You grab the feed mix that someone had mixed the day before and drag it over to the troughs, where there are already some of the animals waiting for you to arrive. The horses have learned to expect people in the morning, and some of the more assertive ones wait at the fence to be the first ones to get to eat.

While they feed, you prepare the cleaning tools inside the small stable that is connected to the fenced off pen. You take each horse that’s finished eating into the small shelter to clean their hooves, brush out their mane and body, and then your favourite part, riding them for a few laps of the enclosure to make sure they run a bit each day.

It’s while you’re dismounting a cute mare named Starlight when you hear a low whistle from behind you. Someone’s obviously been watching you, and sitting there just outside the enclosure.

“Damn, baby, wonder if you could ride me as good as those horses there.” You feel a vein ticking in your head as you recognize the voice. He’s supposed to be getting ready for the group event, not bothering you while you try to get some fucking work done before you can finally relax and celebrate.

You turn your body and inwardly groan as your suspicions are confirmed, sitting there waiting is a certain cowboy who’s always managed to piss you off greatly every time one of his short visits brings him to the UA farms.

“Hello, Hawks.” You grit your teeth as you move towards the next horse that you’re about to take care of.

“I’m wounded, really, that you don’t sound pleased ta see me, angel.” There’s a satisfied smirk on his face. He really does get off on toying around with you and seeing how much he can piss you off. So, you take a deep breath and calm yourself.

“Now, why would you expect anything different? I haven’t forgotten the last time you came aroun’-“

He waves you off. “You’re bein’ ridiculous. It was a harmless joke.”

“I had to clean the stables for TWO WEEKS.” He just laughs at your anger, totally unphased. It grinds your gears more, the cheeky grin on his face that charms everyone around him, whittling down your intense irritation.

“Well, if anythin’ everyone else certainly enjoyed it.” You grumble out some choice words about him, making sure they’re loud enough for him to here, as you start brushing out the mane of the mare in front of you. He seems pleased with himself, leaning on the fence, head on his hands.

“Do you not have somewhere to be? Something you should be practicing for?” He lazily waves away your attempts to get him away from the work you’d like to finish up.

“Who needs practice? I know exactly what I’ve gotta do so there’s no real reason for me to waste my energy before the actual performance.” He says it with a casual arrogance, that you know comes from years of experience and absolute confidence in his abilities. “The only thing I wanna do right now is try all of the good I know y’all made for the party tonight.”

You give him an unimpressed look. “Just because we know each other does not mean that I’m going to just give you the cider meant for the community.” He pouts “You can try it when everyone else does later.”

“Yeah, but we have a special connection.” He grins and you splutter, embarrassed and trying to put away the memories of your bodies pressed together and calloused fingers in your cunt.

“Jesus, Hawks. Shut up.” You look around furtively, checking to see if anyone would’ve overheard.

“You like me loud.” God, his smug look makes you feel hot and bothered.

“Get outta here so I can finish my work, damn it.” He just laughs, turning around before turning back.

“You better save me some of the goodies y’all made up for after the performance.”

“Yeah, whatever,” you grumble, face flushed and mind now distracted with memories of Hawks’ hands tangled in your hair.

“Well, now. This is delicious.” Your eyes follow his tongue that darts out to lick the drop of the cider that had dripped onto his lips. You’d made sure to fill a plate up with the treats that had been spread around the outdoor tables, lanterns hung up around them not only for ease of finding them, but also to light up the evening. “You helped make this?”

“Yup. You wouldn’t believe how difficult it was between never having done it before and Mina’s enthusiasm. God bless Momo, without her we wouldn’t have gotten it done.” He laughs, and you can’t help that you can’t keep your eyes off of him.

He was slightly sweaty from his earlier performance, which had been perfectly executed, tank top tucked into worn jeans with a feather-like buckle. His eyes are scanning the crowd around as the two of you lean on the outside of the saloon, the inside being too filled with inebriated or high adults to even try to squeeze into a seat.

“So, how’s life been around here since I last visited?” he asks between bites of some spicey brisket, obviously enjoying it.

“Ah, not much. Just the usual social drama. Actually, Shinsou almost got his dick sliced off by some machinery someone had fucked around with. I swear to god that man has the worst luck I’ve ever seen.”

“Holy shit, sure does sound like it.”

“But yeah, it’s just living day to day for me now. Not much new happens out here, as you very well know.” He shrugs.

“Might as well see. What’s even keeping you here, then?”

“Not everyone needs to be on the road their whole life to be happy, Hawks.”

“I suppose. More cider?”

“Sure.”

You’ve drank way too much, you know that. But the fuzziness in your head just makes you want to keep going, to have fun and make up for all the time you lose working long hours every day.

Besides, Hawks is there beside you, egging you on and matching you drink for drink. His hands always seem to be on your body, either squeezing your ass, wrapped around your shoulders or waist. It makes you feel warm, and you know he’s teasing you, trying to rile you up. He wants to see how bothered he can make you before you snap and drag him off to some private place.

You’re determined to beat him out though. So, you lean into his body space and trace your hands over his arms, the insides of his wrists. You hear his breath hitch, though his attention is kept on whatever conversation is happening in front of you.

Of course, this is Hawks, who has just as much patience as a saint, despite being as far from one as possible. But you’re drunk and turned on and the teasing is too much for you to handle, so when there’s a brief pause in the activity around the two of you, you pull him down so you can whisper in his ear how much you want him.

He grins, “Might as well head back to your place then.” You agree and drag him with you.

The moment you’re in the house, you wrap your arms around his neck so you can bring his lips to yours. Its messy and rushed, but it’s relieving at the same time. The two of you have done this enough in the few times that he passes through that he’s comfortable enough to let you take charge for a bit.

“You can’t even wait ‘til we’re upstairs, sugar?” he chuckles, drawing out each word. You feel the rumble of them, pressed up as you are against his chest.

“Shut up, Hawks.” You grumble, pulling him towards your room if that’s what it’ll take to get his dick out faster.

After rushing in the room, you kick the door shut behind you and immediately get back to kissing him. This time, he makes more of an effort to assert himself, holding your face in his hands and licking into your mouth. You sigh into him, your hands finding his heated skin beneath his shirt as the pace slows down from the frantic rush it had been. It becomes sensual, and you can feel him getting more aroused as he slowly shifts his hands, starting to grind into you.

You pull away from him, getting some air as you start to take off his shirt. He enthusiastically moves to help and you get to admire his muscles stretch as he does. Obviously, life constantly on the road does wonders for your abs.

“You too, sugar. You’re gonna make me feel underdressed.” He says as he moves to take off the rest of his garments. A laugh slips out of you as you hastily get out of your outfit. When you turn your attention back to him, he’s sitting on the bed and he gestures for you to join him.

When you do, he kisses you again, intensely, as he guides you onto your back. You sigh as he kisses down the side of your jaw to mark your neck, reaching blindly for the lube and condoms beside the bed.

He quickly slides it on and you hear the squelching of lube as he moves in a rush. You don’t have time to make fun of him though, because as soon as he’s finished, he spreads your legs and puts the head of his dick at your entrance.

He groans, closing his eyes as he enters you, and its uncomfortable for a little bit. Soon enough though, you relax, and start to feel great as he moves his hips slowly against you. Hawks fucks deeply, you know this from your times before, but each time it feels just as tantalizing as the last.

“Hawks, please.” You pant, trying to wiggle a little bit just to get some friction, some tiny relief for the edging you’ve been through. He just gives you a smirk, as he keeps you completely locked between him and the mattress. You tense so hard he groans on top of you, but he doesn’t let you move, dick still sitting snug inside your cunt.

“Well, let’s see those barebacking skills you were showin’ off earlier then, hmm?” he says, his voice low and gruff. With ease, he gets the both of you turned around so you’re now sitting with your ass on his thighs, hands clamped tight on your waist keeping you in place while he lays back on the headboard. He nods satisfactorily, looking you up and down with lidded eyes. “Y’know, I like this view much better, baby. What a pretty picture you make right on top of me.” Part of you wants to roll your eyes, but the warmth that his words give you makes the impulse disappear.

“You know, Hawks, in order for me to show you said skills, you’re going to have to let me move.” He laughs as you try and lift yourself against the pressure he’s putting, obviously unable to really do anything. “Seriously, you dick, lemme move.”

“But the face you make when I play these little games with you is so cute, sugar.” He’s got a faux innocent smile across his face and you pout and cross your arms in response. “Okay, okay, I’m done. I promise,” he says, letting off all the pressure, but keeping the two of you connected at the hips.

“Thank you.” you quip, starting a quicker pace than the one Hawks had been setting, gravity still making it just as deep as before.

Being drunk obviously makes Hawks that much louder, or maybe it’s the change up in position, you can’t be sure. But, his praises, his deep moans, the lewd noises from the slapping of your body against his hips, it all makes you feel hot as hell.

You look down, seeing Hawks’ eyes widened and excited, he grins when he notices your look and begins to rock up into you. You throw your head back in as he hits deep within you, crying out his name. Hearing it obviously enthuses him as he grunts in exertion, starting to thrust upwards harder, and you feel your body responding, muscles tightening as you get closer to your climax.

“God, you’re gorgeous like this, y’know?” he gets out through gritted teeth. “I’m not going to be able to last much longer…” He’s panting, fingers digging into your hips sharply, sure to leave marks.

“Please, I wanna cum Hawks!”

“Tell me what you need, sugar, I’ll give it to you.” Hearing that makes you smile, he was always so attentive to your needs.

“Touch me…”

“You gotta tell me where for that.” Even when so close to his climax, somehow, Hawks manages to be cheeky. However, when he’s fucking you this well, it’s much easier to let the teasing roll off your back.

“My clit, Hawks. You do know what that is, right?” He lets out a genuine laugh at that, before sending one hand down towards the bundle of nerves.

It’s enough, between the stimulation and the deep thrusts into your cunt, that you feel yourself tighten and cry out, cumming hard onto his cock. You lean into him, kissing him hard as pleasure courses through your body.

He works you through it, breathing heavily, you can feel his pulse skittering under your hands. You feel him twitch within you, and an idea forms in your mind. Mind wrapped up in pleasure, you act on the thought immediately, bringing your hands to his chest to play with his nipples.

He loves it, making keening noises as you work, legs shaking with effort to stay up and keep pace with him. You let him take the lead and you hear him shout and arch up as you pinch his buds, feeling him release.

He thrusts a couple more times, lazily and slowly, kissing the top of your head as you settle down to lie on his chest for a few minutes.

You breath deeply, content in the moment. You know after you clean up and rest, he’ll be gone on the road once again, so you relax, enjoying the presence.

#jays writes #Smut #hawks x reader

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onepiecereactions · 3 years

Text

Vice-Admiral Smoker and the joys of administration, OS

Smoker, Tashigi, Garp, Kizaru OS.

Humour.

Warning vulgarity.

2100 words.

English Version

Vice-Admiral Smoker and the joys of administration

Smoker hated coming backfrom a mission. Don't get me wrong, he loves his job! But two things annoyed him the most about these moments.

On the one hand, that meant not going on the sea for at least a few weeks. Indeed, Marineford had established a complex system of turnover of vice-admirals so, with some exceptions, at least 3 vice admirals are always present on the base in case of necessity.

The feeling of freedom, feeling the air on his face, not being locked, that was what made Smoker happy deep inside him. That and the feeling of having helped the citizens and brought some justice back to this damn world, obviously.

On the other hand, returning to base meant a horrible administrative mountain. And just thinking about it, headaches were already migrating through the vice-admiral's head. Luckily, Tashigi was always ready to help him and do some of his duties to let him rest.

So it was with a heavy heart that Smoker set foot on the base for the first time after months of mission. While Tashigi was already rushing into his office with the firm intention of working all night to do her report on time, Smoker was walking mechanically to his private apartments. He threw his dirty jacket on the floor, took a long, hot shower, and get into his bed, already cursing tomorrow's hellish day.

The next morning the vice-admiral woke up in a bad mood. He grabbed his jacket that he had left on the soaked bathroom floor and sighed: it was ruined. As resistant as the clothes made by Marineford are, staying intact when you get cannonballs in your back is complicated. And Smoker, unlike many of the women on the base, hated walking around topless.

So his first resolution of the day was to go find a new jacket. And of course, he was going to ask Tashigi to do it for him. At first, as a man of integrity, Smoker was remorseful about leaving so many of his tasks to his colleague, even if the latter was doing wonderfully. But after several years in Marineford, honestly, now he didn't care.

So he grabbed his den den mushis and called the brunette. After several seconds of waiting, Tashigi did not pick up. Smoker worried, it was very unusual for the young woman who had a reputation for answering even when she was asleep.

He then quickly took two cigars from his desk, threw his dead jacket over his back, and walked quickly to his office.

Misfortune never happening alone, of course, on the way he passed Admiral Kizaru. The latter joined him in his race to his office and took the opportunity to discuss. The Yellow Admiral had the reputation of loving to talk, much to the misfortune of Smoker who loved calm above all else.

"Oh, tell me dear friend, are the holes in the jacket a new fashion? I know that I am no longer very young but still, I don’t understant. Is it to provide a ventilation system? Don't tell me you have a fever my dear friend? Do you want me to call the dear caregivers of the "

Kizaru didn't even have time to finish his monologue when he got the door of Smoker's office in the face. The latter had already crushed his cigars to refrain from hitting the high-ranking officer in the face.

Once he was sure he heard the yellow monkey leave, he got into the chair across from his desk and reached into the second drawer to extract two new cigars.

After a few seconds of enjoying the smoke reaching his lungs, Smoker grabbed the stationary den den mushi of his desk and, as he went to call Tashigi, a note stuck to the back of his device intrigued him.

"Even though I warned you last night, that I sent you an official mail 48 hours before and that I slipped a note under the door of your apartment, I want to remind you, just in case, that I am absent that day until 7:30 p.m. All the captains have a meeting. I wish you a very nice day. Captain TASHIGI. "

Oh shit. For a little Smoker could have cried. It was certainly one of the worst announcements he could receive. No Tashigi. No Tashigi for a whole day! One more day after a mission! All the calls and assignments she receives today will go straight back to him, her boss! In addition to her work he was going to have to do his own! With holes in his jacket.

Smoker decided to go on strike. The schedule for that day was already far too scary to be able to live it. A thousand times he would have preferred to fight against Monkey D Luffy rather than going through it.

He then decided he would do what was necessary. He got up quickly from his seat, crashed out of his office and almost ran towards Building C. It was barely nine in the morning but the Vice Admiral thought he was fainting when he saw the huge queue in front of the door. . Obviously, it was Monday, and those morons in the administrative sector never worked weekends.

He then did like everyone else, walked over to the door to grab a numbered ticket, sat down on one of the few free seats and waited.

To his left was an ordinary soldier, without a shirt and pants, just his underwear. Smoker could smell a familiar scent of magma. Akainu had made his own again during the training of his subordinates.

Smoker looked at his ticket, number 38 and sighed. As he was about to improvise a nap while waiting his turn, his portable den den mushis rang.

"Vice-Admiral Smoker, I'm listening. » He said wearily.

The soldier at the other end of the line looked surprised to find the Vice Admiral and not the Captain. “Captain Tashigi is in a meeting, her calls are being redirected to me. If it's not urgent hang up ". Without further ado, the soldier hung up to the vice-admiral's delight.

1 hour later.

"I swear in front of Gol D Roger that if that damn den den mushi rings one more time I will blow his head against the wall." Grumbled the marine for the third time in a minute.

After an hour of waiting and 15 calls, the Vice Admiral was finally called into the room.

He almost tore his jacket from his back, put it violently on the desk while trying to keep his nerves and glared at the woman in front of him who remained unmoved.

"Vice Admiral Smoker, registration number XXXX, I need a new model 3 series AB size 98 jacket with option 13". Smoker had been clear, to the point, and hardly angry.

The woman, who was well into her fiftieth, looked at him indifferently.

“It doesn't work like that, vice-admiral. She said in a weary voice, as if she was talking to the first moron in the area.

Smoker struggled not to crush his cigars again but revised himself to think it would be difficult to face this without cigars.

"So how do you do in this case?" He asked sharply.

The woman didn't even bother to answer him, she just gave him a form. Smoker thought it was a big joke when he found himself with a five-page double-sided document in his hands.

" Are you kinding me ? Five fucking pages for a fucking jacket? Can't you just write 22 fucking words on a fucking post it note and talk about it? Bellowed the Vice Admiral who was already starting to turn to smoke in annoyance.

"Blblblbl, blblblbl, blbllb" The den den mushi began to ring, straining Smoker's last strength to stay calm.

" It's not my fault ". The woman began in a slow, boring voice.

Blblblbl, blbllblb, blbllb

"If you are too stupid"

Blblblb, blblbl, blbllb

"To complete a simple form"

Blblbllbbl, blblbl

"That even Kizaru gets to"

Blblbl, SCRATCH.

The vice-admiral's den den mushi flew across the room, finishing its course into the wall.

To the slow voice of the woman was added the tears of the den den mushi.

"FUCK OF," Smoker yelled as he stormed out of the room to make sure his fist didn't end up in the woman's face. He went out like a madman and locked himself in his office to try to find calm and serenity.

He grabbed a third cigar and after about ten minutes of relaxation began to fill out the damn form. He was only halfway through when the door to his office slammed open, knocking out the lustrous wood that had already received quite a few knocks.

"Ah my dear friend, I went to the infirmary and got you some medicine to lower your temperature. But beware, this is a suppository! ".

Smoker felt his heart stop beating when he saw the yellow admiral's face in front of his nose.

Blblblb, blbllb

"Oh my dear friend I think someone is trying to reach you on your stationary den den mushi. "

Blblblb, blbllb

"Maybe you should answer, maybe it's urgent, don't you think? "

Blblblbl, blbllb

Smoker had a vision. The den den mushi stuck, smeared with haki, right in the middle of the admiral's face, his nose bleeding.

It took phenomenal self-control for the vice-admiral not to reproduce his impulses. For the second time, he chooses to escape.

He took a pen with him to finish filling out the damn file that had become completely unreadable so much he had massacred it.

He found himself in front of the lingerie door, walked past all the soldiers and walked into the office. He barely had time to put a foot inside when he felt a stapler cross his face with its smoke.

"I DON'T THINK I CALLED YOUR NUMBER!" Yelled the woman who had "briefed" him earlier.

Smoker crushed the doorknob but stayed calm. He turned around, took a ticket from the machine, and sat down in the only seat available: the one next to Vice-Admiral Garp. "

Smoker sighed and prayed to all the gods that this old fool would leave him in peace.

So he settled down next to him and inspected him discreetly. He then realized that the old man's uniform was impeccably worn if the traces of grease were omitted from his shirt from all the donuts he had. But the Marineford hero wasn’t wearing socks.

"Don't ask questions kid." The grandfather simply told him when he met Smoker's gaze.

"Hey Smoker, I heard you're after my grandson. Did you know that when he was young he used to have fun sticking his finger up his nose to eat his boogers? Except that this stupid pirate, as he is elastic, he always ended up bleeding from the nose. Suddenly he would start screaming and running in all directions. Most of the time he would smash into a tree or a wall and fall apart, by the time the bleeding ended. Did you also know he got clean very late? I had to buy him pyjamas with an opening pocket on the buttocks because he never managed to undo his buttons and ended up pooping on himself? Ah and also the time when ”.

Smoker wanted to: die.

Blblblb, blbllbl

A mirage ? a hallucination?

"Vice-Admiral Garp, I'm listening. Ah hi Sengoku, how are you? A fishing trip? Now ? Ah I'm coming. By the way, don't you have pairs of socks to lend me? »And so the Vice Admiral disappeared through the maze of hallways, much to Smoker's delight.

It took no less than forty-five additional minutes of waiting for Smoker to finally put the damn file in the damn good drawer which, by chance again, was in building A and, as it happened, no administrative soldier was available to take the paper which he therefore had to deposit himself.

The same day, at 10 p.m.

"A call for you Vice Admiral Smoker." The bartender handed the den den mushi to the vice-admiral, who took a last sip of sake before answering.

"Good evening Vice-Admiral, I hope you had a good day! » Tashigi began. "I was wondering why you weren't answering den den mushi... I received an official document for you. It involves a fine for "disrespecting an administrative colleague" as well as a two-week ban from returning to the lingerie office. Is everything okay ”.

"I STILL PREFER TO WALK NAKED THAN TO RETURN TO THIS OFFICE".

#one piece #vice admiral smoker #monkey d garp #tashigi #Kizaru

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ghostcat3000 · 3 years

Text

SKAM season 3 talkback series: episode 7, “Er du homo?”

The SKAM season 3 rewatch talkback series was done in conjunction with a first-time watch for a small group of newbies. I talked to a cross-section of fans about each episode so our newbies could get a varied taste of what the SKAM fandom was about.

Talk back with the excellent @etal-late (aka etal on AO3)

SKAM 3.7: Er du homo? conducted on 24, November 2019

@ghostcat3000: Hello, hello, welcome everyone to our very small, very casual chat about SKAM season 3 episode 7, Er du homo? I'd like to welcome the wonderful @etal-late, who is an excellent writer and amuses me on the regular. I just made myself a cup of tea and am settling into my couch. I planned this very poorly because I forgot that I have to run about five thousand errands for Thanksgiving today. The supermarket is going to be...awful beyond measure. There are pies to be picked up. WHY DO I DO THIS TO MYSELF?

etal: Right, tea is here, I am here. But do you have pies to see to?

Ghostcat: I do, but ignore me.

etal: Let's go hard and then you go and get your pies when you need to except I'm the worst at typing fast.

Ghostcat: Let's start!

etal: Before we begin, may I check something?

Ghostcat: Yes?

etal: Does the fact that I'm here, answering your questions mean...

Ghostcat: ...

etal: That I'm your...

Ghostcat: ...

etal: Episode 7 Guru?

Ghostcat: Where is my “Isak sez fuck it” gif when I need it?

etal: It's ok, we'll take it as read. Anyway, did you have a question?

Ghostcat: Thank you so much for joining us. I would like to kick things off with a question from last week's talk back guest, @delongpaw: “Who is a better Guru? Eskild or Jonas? And why.”

etal: Good question, Delongpaw. Eskild does well in the kitchen convo. He is kind.

Ghostcat: Yes.

etal: But also honest.

Ghostcat: Always kind. From experience, one gathers.

etal: Yes, and I like how he had forgiven Isak for his earlier gaucheness and had moved on.

Ghostcat: SKAM social media game is so strong. Offscreen, we see that Isak reaches out to Eskild to apologize again and to make sure Eskild isn't avoiding being home because of him.

etal: Yep, and they have their little pet name thing.

Ghostcat: It’s one of those nice character touches―Isak is capable of recognizing when he's wrong and makes amends. Eskild is receptive and understands where Isak's coming from.

etal: He and Jonas are different gurus...they can answer different parts of Isak's question.

Ghostcat: They are mom and dad.

etal: Ha ha, yes.

Ghostcat: Jonas is mom. Eskild is dad.

etal: "You're doing fine, son, but that's the way the world is."

Ghostcat: RIGHT. Eskild's advice is practical and comes from his own experience. Whereas Jonas knows Isak and is able to look him in the eye and say I THINK YOU'RE LETTING HIM PLAY YOU because he knows his friend isn't usually so passive.

etal: And deserves better.

Ghostcat: Yes, that too.

etal: I'm interested in how the boys' advice comes from watching how girls deal with their b.s.―like, this is how they boss us. We have observed and learned their ways.

Ghostcat: Ha ha ha, meanwhile the girls seriously just want to know what the fuck is going on. So your answer to delongpaw’s question is BOTH, both are important, two sides of a whole.

etal: Yes, that's my answer. Your answer is my answer.

Ghostcat: A beautiful ending to an otherwise hellish week.

etal: I do want to scream about Jonas in this episode though because even after his bench/kebab heroics, he hits some new highs in this one.

Ghostcat: Those are some heroics. Absolutely. Well, now that Isak's let him in, he can act in the function he was meant to―our resident sage.

etal: Actually, back to Eskild for a sec, the first clip is him giving bad advice to Noora to go on tinder.

Ghostcat: Ha ha ha, you don't think Noora should be on tinder? Can you imagine that profile?

etal: “Enjoys laundry and despairing because she 'always has to do the right thing." But back to Jonas. The pacing in both the boy scenes is really good, Jonas is doing his watchful thing, Isak is clenched in varying states of tension, and the boys are crashing about.

Ghostcat: Continuing the theme of communication...Isak had texted Jonas to tell him the news was spreading about his "thing" with Even and the topic of telling the boys comes up.

etal: So you're holding your breath waiting for the moment of revelation.

Ghostcat: When we go into this scene, with Magnus beatboxing and generally being...himself, those glances Jonas throws Isak's way are reassuring ones―you can do this. I've got your back. It's gonna be fine.

etal: Trust them (even though it's Magnus…)

Ghostcat: Because after all there's a pre-party at the end.

etal: ...who is hilarious in this one. Straight up.

Ghostcat: Magnus is hilarious. he's so stupid but so recognizable as that friend. the one that's super embarrassing and is always just blurting out the first thing in his head

etal: But genuinely curious. Like, pan or bi, please someone explain.

Ghostcat: While, at times, insensitive. It's never malicious. He genuinely doesn't know things and wants to.

etal: I like the way certain words really trip him up.

Ghostcat: He really gets caught up in them. Pan? Dominatrix? He just repeats them to himself. Like little boys who repeat the word ‘poop’ to themselves, over and over again.

etal: Incidentally, I genuinely had to look up 'excretion' to check if it was A or D.

Ghostcat: I had to ask! And I was told, rightly, that it's Isak's season―he would have the right answer in his subject.

etal: Of course! Do we think it is significant? Is 'separation of waste' a metaphor for getting your shit together?

Ghostcat: Lol. I do think it's significant. As significant as Isak's subject. Which we'll get into at the end of this season.

etal: :thumbsup_tone2:

Ghostcat: This season is meticulously put together but it doesn't feel labored.

etal: Gosh, that's a big thumb.

Ghostcat: Ha ha ha.

etal: Yes, not much is accidental.

Ghostcat: I enjoyed this peek at the deepening relationship between Isak and Sana. You know they're closer even though their interactions are about 100% bickering.

etal: Yes, it's lovely―their compromise: you're wrong, but you go ahead and own your wrong answer.

Ghostcat: Right before he gets that text from Vilde, Isak gives Sana a lovely smile. He's playing around with her.

etal: I'll initial my RIGHT ONE. "Iiiisak"

Ghostcat: “What's your name again?”

etal: He's already feeling lighter.

Ghostcat: And then there's Vilde's text which in typical Vilde fashion is wildly tone deaf. I love gay guys! Like she's going to get a new gay bff out of Isak Valtersen.

etal: :rainbow_flag: :heart:

Ghostcat: (Though my headcanon is that, like everyone else, Isak will eventually become close friends with Vilde.)

etal: Not spoilering, but I've forgotten whether Sana has heard the rumour yet?

Ghostcat: She sees the text and Isak sees that she sees but then class is over and she takes off. The news is spreading, has spread and all thanks it seems to Sonja telling Emma and Emma spreading it to everyone else. Luckily, Isak has told Jonas and then he tells his boys.

etal: Yes, so he has back-up now he's in this awful place of having everyone know, but Even awol...until-

Ghostcat: I'm proud of him though.

etal: Yes.

Ghostcat: There's a sense of Isak having already gone through the worst thing and that wasn't being outed or having everyone know―it was losing Even.

etal: Yep.

Ghostcat: That's a massive realization. That everything else pales in comparison and is manageable. But hope isn't entirely lost despite what Eskild says...because there's always those notes that Even is still leaving Isak and this week's note is an interesting one.

etal: He approaches that locker with such trepidation. What does it have in store for him now.

Ghostcat: His nemesis. Isak x Hell Locker. Slow burn, Enemies to Lovers.

etal: I didn't understand the note at first...

Ghostcat: It's a drawing of Isak's text to Even without an answer and one of the parallel universe where Even does answer and tells him he misses him. Of course, Even is telling him and so, for the first time, it's both worlds at once.

etal: Tok.

Ghostcat: And if that isn't hope. What is?

etal: (Tok is the sound of a spoon tapping an eggshell and making the first tiny crack, the eggshell is my heart) His expression when he looks at that note.

Ghostcat: It's with this interesting development that we go into the pre-party and Isak's sitting there in an echo of the previous pre-party, and wearing the same outfit, I think? Looking like he's in two worlds himself. The one where he's trying to figure out what is up with Even and the one where he really is so fucking done with the pre-party ritual.

etal: Poor fellow.

Ghostcat: But then, the save! Your boy.

etal: JONAS. JONAS.

Ghostcat: Jonas. He looks over at him...

etal: Jonas knows.

Ghostcat: ...and sees it all and asks and him asking brings in the rest of the squad with their questions.

etal: All their many questions.

Ghostcat: Including Magnus's cringe-y gay sex question.

etal: Isak in his new confidence can even deal with Magnus' doofustry.

Ghostcat: To be fair, he already did in the earlier conversation. I don't think anything could take away Isak's need to roast Magnus mercilessly.

etal: Haha, yes.

Ghostcat: But again, Magnus seriously doesn't know shit. I do love that he applies his new knowledge. Is he also...pan?

etal: A searcher after knowledge.

Ghostcat: He wants to know. This scene is so brilliantly done. and it's comedy! Shakespearean comedy! The character who doesn't know what to do and his crew of fools providing solutions (which wind up being pretty good).

etal: Speaking of which...

Ghostcat: Yes?

etal: Although, hang on- First, I enjoy Isak's sudden decisiveness.

Ghostcat: The text?

etal: Blasts that text out. He types faster than me.

Ghostcat: He types it and hits send, no editing.

etal: Phone down.

Ghostcat: I like how he makes fun of Jonas's first draft, like that's a thing I'd say? and Jonas doubles down―something like that but more YOU.

etal: And they're right!

Ghostcat: The text he sends is exactly what Jonas crafts-as-Isak. The response is near-immediate like Even's been staring at his phone.

etal: Yep.

Ghostcat: Jonas really warms to this counselor role.

etal: *Cracks his knuckles* Let's go. Got this.

Ghostcat: Utters the immortal lines: STRAIGHT UP. NO FEELINGS.

etal: Straiddup.

Ghostcat: N O S M I L E Y. He looks so annoyed that Isak doesn't get it. No fucking smiley, Isak.

etal: Imagine getting that text.

Ghostcat: Omg.

etal: Stone-cold.

Ghostcat: I know.

etal: Fuck, no smiley...grabs trainers.

Ghostcat: Chiller hjemme. I don't think Even lives near the Kollektiv. That bitch RAN.

etal: I have timed it.

Ghostcat: Or hopped on that fucked up bike of his.

etal: Or counted it out, you know. Fastest boy in Norway.

Ghostcat: I have to admit. They got me. Andem fully played me when the doorbell rang, I didn't actually think it was Even despite it being OBVIOUSLY him.

etal: Lol.

Ghostcat: I don't know why. I think it might have been the quality of the scene after that last text and how there was no answer. They all start talking about something else and kind of settle into the same energy as before.

etal: Brilliantly done, you're feeling so hard for Isak.

Ghostcat: And I fully expected things to end there, with Isak's sad face looking at his phone.

etal: Meanwhile, Even is fully sprinting. Knocking over old ladies.

Ghostcat: Ha ha ha.

etal: Sparks coming off his tyres.

Ghostcat: Sliding across the hoods of cars. Bike going all E.T.

etal: Hair flowing in the wind.

Ghostcat: Crossing past a full moon though legit his hair looks great when he shows up but before that...

etal: Oh yes, it does.

Ghostcat: ...Isak has to have that moment of-

etal: Yes? Pain.

Ghostcat: Are you expecting someone? No, you guys are the only friends I have.

etal: Lol, great line.

Ghostcat: It's probably Eskild. He's always leaving his keys (which is brilliant because it's completely plausible).

etal: Eskiiild, says Magnus, helpfully.

Ghostcat: But there's Even. and guys, it's Even and Magnus goes WE'RE GONNA MEET EVEN while Jonas, one step ahead of everyone else, starts grabbing the beers.

etal: Now here I have A Point To Make.

Ghostcat: HIT IT.

etal: Where is Even? Down on the pavement.

Ghostcat: He is buzzing from downstairs. At the front entrance, on the street.

etal: Correct. Where is Isak?

Ghostcat: And Isak is at the balcony.

etal: BALCONY.

Ghostcat: You got it. Even is a lazy hoe. He should have climbed up like a proper Romeo.

etal: This is a Romeo and Juliet moment and that is TRUE. He does climb up.

Ghostcat: It is absolutely a Romeo and Juliet moment.

etal: The stairs. Less romantic, but still.

Ghostcat: It's handy for Isak that his apartment has a separate servant's stairwell/exit. SERVANTS!

etal: Lol, out you go, boys.

Ghostcat: Again, Shakespeare. With Magnus as the classic fool, down to the bursts of song.

etal: Yes, the Montague boys in full swing. I love that moment, it was one of the scenes that made me really love this series. Delightful.

Ghostcat: Moment to acknowledge Isak fully sliding into fury in this scene, his GTFO face is the best―NO, YOU CANNOT MEET EVEN, WHAT THE FUCK. *Angry squirrel face* and Jonas slipping beers into every pocket.

etal: Get out get out, throwing shoes after them.

Ghostcat: The song from Luhrmann's Romeo +Juliet to underscore the moment. They exit and the music cuts out.

etal: “Local God.” [by Everclear]

Ghostcat: Isak has a moment to gather himself.

etal: (Wise Jonas, they'll need those beers later.)

Ghostcat: (“He feels like a local god when he's with his boys?” something like that...) Knock at the door, he opens it, and there is Even.

etal: Oh oh OH.

Ghostcat: Oh?

etal: Just oh-ing regarding Even generally. The ice-cream swirl of hair at its best.

Ghostcat: Particularly for someone who just teleported over there. He looks pretty put together, Even is ready to impress.

etal: Breathing a little fast? Not really.

Ghostcat: Just laser beam eyes and an obnoxiously confident hello.

etal: And an eyebrow raise for the gods. THE GODS.

Ghostcat: With a tiny flicker then of insecurity because Isak isn't saying anything, just blinking at him. In soft, soft regard.

etal: So perfect, all in about 5 seconds.

Ghostcat: Well, mostly and then “Mister-you-have-to-play-hard-to-get” Isak Valtersen absolutely does not.

etal: Lol and lol.

Ghostcat: What did you think when you saw this moment for the first time? Where you concerned about this decision to not talk but just act?

etal: "etal is typing"

Ghostcat: Ha ha ha.

etal: So I think...

Ghostcat: I'll post giant gifs of them staring at each other in the meantime.

etal: I was surprised by how fast it went.

Ghostcat: It's very fast but not surprising...

etal: It's the logic of a romantic scene - run, grab, DO IT. And what Isak has earned-

Ghostcat: [post giant gif of Even staring at Isak in that doorway.]

etal: Oh crumbs, hello there, you…

Ghostcat: So Isak has earned this moment?

etal: -what Isak has earned through the episode. It's led up to this and they are done talking, for now. So I guess, I was...not concerned?

Ghostcat: [posts giant gif of Isak blinking back at Even] True, Isak has earned it. But so have we. We've been hanging with this poor kid through this challenging week so his gain is our gain.

etal: Indeed. Kiss the boy please.

Ghostcat: Kiss the boy.

etal: How fast does his top come off though? Pretty fast.

Ghostcat: Ha ha ha, apparently there's some behind-the-scenes stuff we'll get to about this. The hat, the shirt, everything goes.

etal: They are so good at the kissing.

Ghostcat: I like the part where they stop and look at each other for a moment. It might actually be the most romantic moment for me because they do it at the same time, together. A wordless check-in.

etal: Sweet, sweet. You know sometimes men doing passionate kissing can look very rough and like it would hurt? This doesn't.

Ghostcat: It doesn't, it's very intimate without being explicit. Which is one of the things I love about this season. It has a very believable heat without going too far and feeling exploitative of its young actors. I say that as a denizen of the land of going too far, i.e. fanfic.

etal: Heh heh.

Ghostcat: That's where I live. I acknowledge this. There is one more joke of course. Just like in the first episode, a person sinks to their knees in front of Isak and this time, he doesn't stop them. He finally gets that blow job he's been lying about for two seasons.

etal: LOL, go for it Isak. It is the East, and you are the sun.

Ghostcat: Ha ha ha. Arise fair sun (for things have certainly arisen).

etal: And are also going down. It's an episode of ups and downs.

Ghostcat: Yes! Much like everything is this season. Highs and lows with humor and tenderness. SO before I leave to go get the pies TWO important things, if I may.

etal: Yes?

Ghostcat: My questions: One) please share your story of when and how you started watching SKAM. Two) Any final thoughts on this episode that I haven't touched on? SIMPLE QUESTIONS, etal, and then you'll be free of me.

etal: Guru Etal, please.

Ghostcat: (Isak eye roll) Fine. Guru Etal.

etal: OK. For 1. I have something I prepared earlier (like your pies). This is how I started watching SKAM:

Ghostcat: Ha ha ha How I torment thee.

etal: (Some time later):

My origin story.

Ghostcat: Wheezing

etal: But, seriously, once I had been looking at it on tumblr, watched seasons 1 and 2 and really enjoyed the style, which is so fresh and interesting. I love the way the kids talk, the mix of languages and then series 3 is just beautiful really. I'm a sucker for the R&J references and I love the screen time the boys get to talk and―someone said this on an earlier chat, I'm sorry, I forget who it was―to show a side of teenage boys we don't get to see very much in film and tv. I remember talking with you @Ghostcat about how the actors flicker between being really beautiful to a bit scuzzy like real teens...I was properly into it. Watching again, I still get excited by sound of the theme music.

Ghostcat: Beautifully put. Me too.

etal: Final thoughts on this ep: Jonas' IKEA question; Jonas is great; Even's 2 minute dash of pash; Even's hair; Montague boys forever.

Ghostcat: “Dash of pash” :skull: Thank you so much for chatting with me today. And for bearing with my technical difficulties.

etal: My pleasure. Go buy your pies! Run! Run! Raise your eyebrow at them, they're waiting for you.

itsallnoncents: Thank you both! And thank you Jonas for being the bestest best bro.

Ghostcat: To Jonas! [posts gif of Jonas saying *straight up*]

Join us next week to read our talkback with @odeto-psyche about my personal fave SKAM episode, 3.8 Mannen i mitt liv aka Even, Even, Even, and the bundle of clothes.

#SKAM #skams3rewatch2020 #SKAM season 3 talkback interviews #etal-later #Isak Valtersen #Er du homo?#3.7

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modern-inheritance · 3 years

Text

Modern Inheritance: Limits

Summary: “Brom, I just want them back! I don’t want anyone else to die and I want them back!” “I know, kid.” “…I hate this fucking war.” “…Yeah. Me too.” Everyone has a limit on what they can endure without cracking under the strain. Some people can move that limit when they must, push themselves a little further to shoulder more so that others don’t have to take it on or see them hurting. But often it’s those people who break the hardest when their limit is finally reached.

~~~

Arya stared up at the plaster coated stone of the embassy ceiling. The events of the last twenty four hours played over and over in her mind, threatening to drown out her attempts to rest.

Ajihad was dead. The man everyone had been so sure would lead them to the gates of Urû’baen was gone.

Even after a lifetime of loss, Arya felt Ajihad’s death hit particularly hard.

The man was a genius strategist and unparalleled negotiator. Under his guidance the Varden had not only survived but thrived even as Galbatorix increased his campaign against them.

That wasn’t all. He was not just a military leader. Ajihad had been a personal friend to Arya, Fäolin and Glenwing. Despite being decades younger than the elves, the fallen commander always kept his eye out for them and encouraged all three to speak openly to him if any problems arose. He was kind, just and one of the most honorable men Arya had met during the entire hellish war.

Unbidden, the memory of one of the last occasions Arya had spent one on one time with the Varden’s leader crept into her mind.

It felt like months had already passed, but just over two weeks ago Ajihad had strode into Arya’s tiny room in the medical wing with a thermos of her favorite tea balanced on a fresh set of her fatigues in one hand and a packet of notes in the other. Arya had expected him to give a few short condolences and exchange hurried niceties before launching into a formal debriefing about her captivity, the events that led to it, and the information that she had either collected or divulged during that time. It was procedure, after all, and with the Urgals army fast approaching Arya understood that there would be little time for anything but the necessities.

But the Varden’s leader did nothing of the sort. Instead, using mugs borrowed from the cabinet of the nurse’s station, Ajihad sat and shared tea while he talked with the recently revived elf. They sat together, Ajihad somehow still looking regal and powerful while relaxing in a ratty old chair and Arya sitting cross legged on the edge of the hospital bed, barefoot and shirtless but very grateful for the pants and sports bra that provided more protection than a the hospital’s light pants and open backed shirt.

Ajihad spent well over an hour telling her of the things that had gone on since she last left with Saphira’s egg. Everything from an incident where Coop, the one legged veteran who owned the Varden’s traveling bar, had used his prosthetic to knock out the instigator of a drunken brawl, to the Ingeitum clan’s recent efforts to restart production of small tanks and new artillery, was discussed. It was informal, relaxing almost, and for Arya it brought an almost desperately welcome break from the constant questions about her state of mind and the well meant but invasive queries about her captivity and torture.

The tea had long since been finished when Ajihad paused, the boyish grin left from telling of Coop’s improvised assault fading from his lips. He steepled his fingers and settled his elbows on his knees before asking if Brom had told her about the current situation between the Varden and the elves. When Arya answered in the affirmative, an edge creeping into her tone, he simply nodded. He knew that she would do everything possible to put relations back in order.

Still. She could see the questions in his eyes.

He didn’t ask them. Instead, Ajihad gave her sincere condolences on the deaths of Fäolin and Glenwing. He did not apologize for their deaths, nor did he dither on about what could have been or should have been done, but he recounted their strengths and character, how much they meant to specific people in the Varden, and how much their support had meant to him and Nasuada during the early years of his leadership. It was heartfelt, and held no awkward silence or uncertainty as to how to address their deaths. Ajihad knew the importance of acknowledging their loss, while also understanding Arya’s need for privacy in processing their deaths.

As he took his leave, Ajihad pulled three objects from the pocket of his vest and gently folded Arya’s fingers over them. The subdued gleam of two hammered steel badges, bearing the Varden’s seal and hanging from black ribbons, met her gaze when she carefully revealed the gifts. Under them, another medal, plated in dull brass with a sky blue ribbon, detailed a wolf leaping over a wall of snarled barbed wire.

As she tilted the medals in her hand, Arya’s breath caught in the back of her throat. Etched carefully into the metal so that they became clear when light shifted, the glyphs that she, Glenwing and Fäolin had chosen for the motto of their tiny special ops unit shined back at her.

With a sudden lurch Arya sat up and swung her legs over the side of the bed, chest aching.

Even in their deaths, Ajihad had provided Fäolin and Glenwing permanent proof that though they were not human, they would always be a part of the Varden. It was a thought that Ajihad turned to solid fact during his time as leader, ensuring that the elves felt accepted and trusted in the fight against Galbatorix. It was why losing him felt like losing a another part of the family Arya had found in the Varden’s ranks. A family that was quickly shrinking as the conflict reached the start of it’s crescendo with Eragon and Saphira’s arrival.

At the thought of family Arya’s mind turned to Nasuada. Barely into adulthood and carrying the same strength and wit that Ajihad often displayed, Nasuada’s love for her father was obvious. The two doted on each other as much as they butted heads, stubborn and unyielding in their conviction to help the Varden despite the danger.

If only I had been faster. She still couldn’t shake the sound of the young woman’s wail that reverberated through the tunnels. Even in the warren of passages that the Urgals had escaped through she had heard the agonized sound clearly. I should have used magic to drive the Urgals back. Then maybe Ajihad, Murtagh and the others would have gotten out.

Arya tightened her grip on the sheets, feeling her nails dig into her palms through the material. No. I can’t do this now. She squeezed her eyes shut and forced the lump in her throat down. Took several slow, deep breaths and settled back into the bed. There’s too much to do, too much at stake. Doubt and grief can come later. We’ll mourn later.

Right now, sleep. Then take the day one step at a time. The Council meeting tomorrow. Prep for travel back to Ellesméra. Keep an eye on Eragon and Saphira, make sure no one tries anything while we’re in chaos. Make sure the Council doesn’t try to steamroll Brom’s advice.

She breathed in again, closed her eyes. Loosened the fists she had made and forced her tired body to relax as she let it out. The tightness in her throat hadn’t gone away fully, and the heavy feeling in her chest remained. But it could wait. It would have to wait.

Keep on keeping on. It’s all we can do.

Resigned to sleep yet still uneasy, the elf subconsciously rolled over in the bed and reached out for the comforting, familiar warmth of Fäolin’s body beside hers.

Her hand fell through open air to land on cold, empty sheets.

Arya’s eyes snapped open.

~~~

Brom rubbed his face, chewing once again on the stem of his empty pipe. Arya had banned him from smoking in the embassy, but he was in no mood leave his room, much less go outside.

A heavy shroud covered Tronjheim in the wake of Ajihad’s death earlier that day. People were openly crying in the tunnels and crowded together for solidarity in their grief. The Rider didn’t want to be drawn into it. Instead he preferred to reflect on his emotions and the events alone with a shot of strong bourbon and his pipe. Sometimes one or two close friends were welcome, but the number of people he counted as such had dwindled over the course of the war till less than a handful remained.

Brom sucked in a breath through the pipe, tasting the remnants of his years of smoking in the wood. He hadn’t known Ajihad all that well, but the man made quite an impression on him the times that they had met face to face as well as when the two exchanged letters about the Varden. Brom found his decisions sound and his leadership to be well in line with the values that the Varden had been founded on. His death was a blow to the group for sure, both in a strategic sense and an emotional one.

The question of who would take over the Varden now haunted the Rider’s mind. Brom had been almost completely out of contact for the fifteen years he watched over Eragon in Carvahall, never mind the handful of years he spent infiltrating Morzan’s mansion. He had no idea who would be best to succeed Ajihad, but knew one thing: the Council was not to be trusted with the final decision.

Brom growled in quiet frustration. In his opinion a majority of the current Council were a bunch of power hungry, manipulative jackasses.

But still…the Council was an important part of the Varden’s structure. Without them t–

Brom bolted to his feet, chair clattering to the ground as a ragged scream ripped through the embassy. The Rider was out the door and in the hall when a resounding crash followed not a moment later.

Brom staggered as Arya’s door opened easily, fully expecting it to be locked when he jammed his shoulder against it. He stumbled into the darkened room and stopped, feeling a twinge of tightness in his chest as he took in the somewhat familiar scene.

Arya was sitting on the floor below a fresh hole in the plaster that hid the pipes and utilities anchored to the stone walls. Her shoulders, littered with angry red and raw scars that peeked out from the loose collar of her nightshirt, shuddered every few moments. Her left hand clenched over her face to hide her eyes while her lips pressed tight together to prevent any hint of sound.

Her right hand was limp at her knee, torn and bloodied. Deep bruises already bloomed at her first two knuckles where skin still remained.

Brom carefully stepped over scattered chips of plaster and sank to his knees in front of the crumpled elf. “Hey now…” Arya’s jaw clenched tighter and she turned her face away from him at his soft words, still covering her eyes. “Don’t do this, girl. We’ve talked about this.” Gently but firmly, the Rider grasped the woman’s left wrist and tugged.

A long second passed as Brom kept up the pressure, feeling the silent trembling through the limb until she finally dropped her hand. Arya looked up at him through the tears that streaked her face.

“There we go.” He gave her a soft smile. Eragon was his son, it was true. But family reached further than blood, and he’d be damned if he didn’t see the woman before him as his daughter. He had watched her grow from a small child, eager to fight in the name of her people, to a woman that now endured a multitude of wounds in the hope that her deeds would lead to a better future for all the races.

It wasn’t the first time he saw her like this. Wasn’t the first time he had consoled her after years, decades of pushing aside her own feelings for the sake of others, for the sake of the war, finally shattered through her carefully constructed walls. She had seen him the same way before as well. They both knew it was not likely it would be the last.

So he did what he had done before. What they both had done. “Don’t hold back, girl. I’m right here.”

Arya shuddered. Squeezed her eyes shut and shook her head. But she didn’t resist when Brom pulled her into his arms.

Instead she gave a choked cry, seized a fistful of his shirt, and sobbed hard into his shoulder.

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chb-requests · 3 years

Note

how about leo comforting his s/o after a nightmare?

The ground shook violently beneath me before splintering open with the crack of a whip, revealing the hellish landscape awaiting underneath. The fire, the screams, it all reaches me and I feel my heart racing a hundred miles a minute. I’m falling, I’m flying, I don’t know where this is going and all I can do is scream the loudest I can. My dream fills me with emotions I cannot hold within and I find myself waking in a wild sweat that leaves me shaking.

My teary eyes pan through the darkness of my cabin. With only the torch lights gently flickering outside to illuminate the room, I sit up, still shaking and breathing like I had just lived that dream. I looked around the room to see my brothers and sisters were still sleeping soundly. Unaware of the terror I just dreamt and it made me feel all the ever lonelier. I’m about to sob when I looked out the window to see cabin nine, Leo’s cabin.

How much I’d give to feel his warm arms around me right now, I was shaking badly and having a hard time to breathe. I needed it so much that I began to cry. As I choked back my empty sobs, I saw one of the patrolling dryads pass by my cabin. She circles around the structure as respectfully as she can, her bark-like skin is much more pliable than it looks when she uses it to lean over and check every crevice. With her inspection done, she moves on to the next while I watch her in deep thought.

“I can run for it.” I whispered while tracking her movements. “I can… go there really quick, I’m sure Leo wouldn’t mind. I-I’ll bring an offering to Hephaestus so he won’t be so angry… I…”

I sounded like I was crazy! Did I want to be turned into a shrub for a whole week? Dionysus would pick elderberries off my head for his own enjoyment and I don’t even want to know what kind of insects might crawl on my branches while I’m reconstructed. I held my arms tighter, I’ll go very quickly. No one would notice a thing. I’ll be back before dawn and none of the other Hephaestus campers would realize what happened.

Packing my bags as shakily as I can, I gripped the iron nugget I had taken from arts and crafts and climbed out of my window, falling ungracefully onto the floor below. I scurried to hide behind a tree before the dryad noticed me. I was done for. I am 100% a fried nugget and I’m going to be toast for a whole week! When I was sure the dryad didn’t notice my clumsy fall, I dipped behind some of the other buildings, being sure not to touch any of them in respect to the gods.

I was now directly across from cabin nine and all that’s left is to run across the campfire to the open window leading into the cabin. Holding my breath, I spirited as fast as I could before tripping over a rock left behind during the sing along campfire and fell face flat next to Hestia’s hearth.

I scampered as fast as I could to regain my composure and when the dryad turned around to face me, the flames suddenly grew higher. Almost like the kind hearted Hestia was shielding my view from the century old dryad, rooting for me to finish my adventure. I thanked the Goddess and ran as fast as I could to the open window of Hephaestus’ cabin. I had to be quick, I placed the iron nugget at the base of the steps to speak a low prayer in reverence to the God Hephaestus, and without any time to hesitate I jumped into the window, pulling myself up and rolling into the cabin head first.

My head lands on the hard steel floor, rewarding a groan out of my throat as I wobble back to stand. I carefully took the time to adjust to the darkness in the cabin, before sneaking my way into the bunking area to look for Leo. All the Hephaestus kids were big and burly, it was only my love who sported a thin small frame. I used this knowledge to look everywhere I could for him. But... He wasn’t here? Not sure of what to think, I headed further into the cabin and found the furnace area. It still smelled of soot and sulphur, but I saw someone laying atop a sacked makeshift bed.

My eyes began to water and I knew immediately that it was my beloved.

I ran to his sleeping form, wrapping my arms around his shoulders before letting the first of my tears stain him. Crying into the hollow of his chest, all the fear I had bottled up earlier from my dream poured into his shirt. I was making a mess but I was too far broken to care about that. He didn’t need to wake up, this was all I needed to live. Regardless however, I felt him wake to me. He made a sound of confusion, but suddenly stroked my hair with his hand.

“Y/N? What… What are you doing here?” Leo asked, still confused and trying to sit up. I released him and he immediately looked outside to see what time it was. It was still night, a total violation of the rules and I knew if he wanted to send me away... I would go.

“I had a horrible dream. There was an earthquake and the floor opened up for Tartarus, and- and-” I was crying but he came out to stroke my tears away. Pulling my shaking body into his. I hugged him again and cried like I had been struck with grief. He kissed my hair, rubbing the back of my shoulders to calm me down, laughing about how he smelled awful compared to me.

I returned the joke pathetically in an attempt to absorb the new aura I was feeling. I was in an awful state and as soon as I took as much strength I could from him, I felt embarrassed about my midnight rendezvous. I risked his safety for a dumb nightmare, I was acting selfish and this pulled me away from him.

“I’m sorry, Leo, I should get back to my cabin. I feel so much better now.” but he came back to pull me under him.

He kissed me over and over again. I felt overwhelmed but at the same time, I sensed him taking all my insecurities away with every press of his finely crafted lips. He wasn’t going to let me go feeling like I meant nothing to him, he wanted me to know he was worried and I drank it like nectar to my wounds.

“Pollita, you’re going to stay with me tonight. So let me make the sack a little more comfortable.” He laughed, moving away and pushing together a few more crates to make the “bed” bigger.

“Why are you sleeping on this? Don’t you have a bed?” I asked brushing my swollen freshly kissed-lips, watching him craft this strange cot. He looked up to smile at me, his grin making my ears red in wonder at his incredibly crafty ways.

“I do, but my siblings snore too loudly so I sleep over here instead.” He laughed, jumping onto the new bedding and giving me the most comfortable pillow.

I laid next to him and he kissed my forehead again. It caused me to giggle but when he kissed my eyes, I felt the sting of swelling my crying had done to them. I pressed against him and he wrapped his arms around me. Asking me to tell him the dream again so he can better understand it. I did… and I no longer felt scared this time.

“If you were to fall into Tartarus, I think I would jump in after you.” He spoke nonchalantly.

“No you wouldn’t!” It sounded almost like a threat when it came out of me, but I meant it to keep him from doing anything stupid. He paused for a second, thinking more about the scenario before he looked me directly in the eyes.

“I would jump into Tartarus after you.” He wasn’t joking and I wasn’t going to dispute it this time.

I kissed his lips again and listened to all the mechanics of the smelting room we were sleeping in. His voice vibrating the hollowness of his chest, it lulled me to sleep and I cradled against him in blissful happiness. I spent all night with him like this, lost in the regale of his upcoming projects and meticular designs. But when I woke the next morning… I wasn’t myself…. LITERALLY….

I was a chipmunk and Dionysus was leaning over me with a cage in his hands. I was going to stay this way for the rest of the week, but at least he let me stay in the Hephaestus cabin for the remainder of my curse-bound sentence. I got to watch Leo smelt and work on his many projects. He talked to me nearly every second of the day and would let me sit in his bag while participating in various events.

I consider this a blessing.

#leo valdez #pjo #percy jackson series #i'm sorry about all the errrors #english isn't my first language but I try to write it either way #Anonymous

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tenmillionwhumperflies · 3 years

Text

Cloudwalker Series Part 27

Okay, I promise the plot will get moving again after this one. But angst and fluff were required before Avizon can head back to the castle.

Warnings: Extreme guilt and regrets, but that’s about all I can think of. The fluff did almost make me cry I won’t lie.

Approx WC: 3500

Taglist: @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi

Avizon could see Orrien’s surprise at finding him back so soon, even if it had been a couple of hours. "Ihuka! When did you get up there?" he explained. He mustn't have even realised he'd left.

"Well then, that's one cloudwalker brought home in time for dinner," Avizon said somewhat cheerily as Orrien met him outside. Avizon hoped Orrien couldn't see any traces of upset upon his expression but he doubted it. Whatever Orrien could see, he didn't bring it up.

"I'm so sorry! I didn't know he'd left-" Orrien began. Avizon shrugged. "No harm done. He just came to check on me. He's not your responsibility, I wouldn't expect you to take the blame."

Orrien heaved out a soft breath of relief. "Aye… he's alright. That's the important thing." He held onto the reins while Avizon climbed down from Secret and watched him help Ihuka down. Avizon patted Secret's neck for a moment, taking in her relaxed aura. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

"Are you feeling better?" Orrien asked gently. Avizon turned and nodded. It was true he felt a lot better after being able to grieve and hold Ihuka close. "Yes, I just… got too caught up in the memories. It happens, I suppose things have reminded me of what happened."

"Aye, I can understand that," Orrien confessed. Having seen Avizon so weak and feverish from his wounds only days prior had reminded him of the time he'd saved Avizon from the fort… after losing Ro. He had been so weak and broken. It had taken months for him to heal and Avizon had hated every second of it. He'd been barely able to speak, to move and do the most basic of things on his own until his arms, fingers, and jaw had healed, but Orrien had been there for him during that time. He hadn't left him alone to suffer.

They'd worked through what happened. He knew Avizon had been angry. He knew he wanted revenge, but he had no idea that at the time that Avizon had intended to do what he did...

Avizon must have saw Orrien's face fall as he reached up and patted his arm. "And are you alright?" "Hm? Fine, fine- ow!" Orrien struggled not to slap his ear where Mouse bit him with more force than their playful nibbles.

"It seems Mouse doesn't agree," Avizon pointed out with a half smile.

Orrien put his hand out with a grumble and let Mouse climb onto it. He then put them down in one of his pockets. “You’re on time out until you can learn to not eat my ear,” he huffed. "We need those, where are you going to sit if you eat it, hm? Yes, then you'd have a predicament, wouldn't you?" Mouse made a little yip sound, almost a meep, and looked at him with big eyes and their ears down flat until Orrien sighed and patted their head with his finger.

“Fine, fine, you can go in my chest pocket." He moved them from a lower pocket to the little one he’d stitched onto his cloak for them on his chest. Mouse sat up in it, with their feet holding onto the edge so they could watch the world go by, they panted like a dog and stuck their tongue out the side of their mouth.

Orrien looked up at Avizon and sighed. “I am fine, really. Mouse just worries for me.” Avizon looked down at the dragon and smiled. “They're a sweet little thing…” He let his smile fade away. “You know, as hard as it may be, I’m not against talking to you about what happened back then? I’d hate to think you felt isolated? I realise everything I've done, how difficult I was when I was healing… it won't have been easy on you."

Orrien shook his head. “For the most part, I’ve overcome it. Don't worry about when you were healing. I was braced for much worse and I could hardly blame you for how you acted and how you felt after that. My wounds weren’t to the body at least, but the images still plague my mind, seeing Ro… seeing you at that hellish place...” Orrien shuddered. “I learned long ago it’s best not to dwell on the past.” “Aye, but the past dwells on us. I can’t get away from it, and I doubt you can either,” Avizon said. “If you are as fine as you claim, then that’s fine, but I thought I’d offer. Ihuka made me realise something today.” Orrien raised a curious eyebrow. “Oh, and what’s that?”

Avizon shrugged to hide his awkwardness. He patted Ihuka on the head as a reassurance. “That even when I try to run away from it all… I'm not alone, we're not alone.” Orrien smiled at him. These cloudwalkers really were a big help to Avizon after all. Orrien could see the change in him every day. Every day, he felt more and more familiar again, like his wonderful apprentice that his son fell so deeply in love with.

Orrien turned back to the house. “It’s time you had something to eat. I’ll take the horse.” "You're sure? Well… if you insist." "I do," Orrien smiled.

Avizon nodded and ushered Ihuka inside.

He first went upstairs to check on Blue and Dyan. He thought back to the barn incident, how weak they both had been after being corrupted with dark magic, Dyan's fear from being violent. He worried what Borgurk had been doing with Cloudwalkers in the first place. The amount of dark magic Tashka had in him… he was up to something, and Avizon was afraid to find out what.

After the scare in the barn, it was nice to see Blue and Dyan awake, holding hands, but they did look very tired, Blue especially. "Well hello there, sleepy heads. How are you feeling?" he smiled softly. "Better," Blue croaked.

"Are you hurting?" Avizon asked, and Blue reluctantly nodded. "What… what happened?" Blue asked. "Your bite was infected with decaying dark magic. I had to remove it from your body." Blue frowned sluggishly. "I don't understand…"

"Tashka somehow had dark magic, like me- that's the cloudwalker that bit you. But the magic was rotting, going stagnant like still water because he wasn't using his power. He was infected, and then when he bit you, the venom meant you were infected too."

"Oh…" Blue mumbled. "So for that reason, I think Ihuka should stay with you a while, help you boost your light magic. We'll have to go home tomorrow, but right now you need to rest."

Dyan turned his head away, but Avizon didn't like the silence. "And how are you, Dyan?" he asked. "Fine," he answered. "'m fine." "And is that the truth?" Avizon raised an eyebrow. He knew it wasn't the truth, it couldn't be after the few days he'd had. There was just no way…

"Yes, master," Dyan answered flatly.

Avizon sat on the edge of his bed and ran his fingers through his hair. Dyan sat stiffly, fighting against flinching. "I see… Well, if that's how it is." Blue looked at Dyan and frowned. It seemed he was worried too.

"Good bird," he said softly. "Remind me again what you deserve?" It took him a long while to answer. "To be happy, to be safe…" he answered. "That's right. Maybe you should get more sleep, you look tired."

Dyan shrugged and leaned into Blue. Was that why he was shutting down? Because he didn't want to leave Blue?

"You'll see each other again, you know?" Avizon said. "I won't keep you apart." Dyan tensed but then sighed deeply. Avizon guessed he was right. "I know what it's like to be separated from someone you care about. I will do all I can to keep you together. I'll arrange it with Orrien. Perhaps you can meet once or twice a week. It’s going to be alright.”

Dyan rubbed his eyes and nodded sadly.

“Would you like Ihuka to be up here to help you both or would you rather be alone?" They looked at each other before Dyan hesitantly said. "He can come up."

Avizon nodded and called softly for him. He decided it best to leave them at peace. He hoped Ihuka could help cheer them up and bring smiles back to their faces.

"I'll leave you to it. Tell me straight away if your wounds hurt or if you need anything, alright?" “Thank you, Avizon,” Blue said. “We appreciate it.”

Avizon smiled softly and made his way down the stairs, struggling to hold off a wince. Ihuka was at the bottom, looking at him with concern. “Master… hurt?” “I’m alright,” Avizon promised. “You can go and see Dyan and Blue. Look after them for me.”

Avizon dropped himself down in a chair and held onto his leg for a few minutes. He bit back down his frustration at not being able to help Dyan. It wasn’t his fault. He was just struggling and trying to find ways to manage it all. He’d pleaded for punishment, and Avizon hadn’t given him that. It made sense for Dyan to be disappointed, to be sore and perhaps angry at his master. He wasn’t sure, but he hoped Ihuka could help him, to be a listening ear.

“You need some herb water?” Orrien suddenly asked as he made his way inside the house.

Avizon pondered shaking his head but he eventually nodded. “Please. It’s acting up.” Orrien pottered about, getting him the water and some of the stew he and Ihuka had made earlier.

"I'm going to head back tomorrow morning, or when the birds wake up. Whichever is later. I'm not looking forward to it," Avizon admitted. "Why is that?" Orrien asked. "Erix, and the fact Dyan is going to be very… Well, blue, at having to leave Blue behind. He’s acting different today, cold and rigid. I don’t know if he’s mad at me."

Orrien nodded slowly. "Just be patient with him. He’ll talk to you or ease himself out of it eventually. As for Erix, I would inform the circle of his actions but…" "You'd get more sense out of a brick wall?” Avizon grunted. “Thought so." Orrien pulled a face. "Well, it's not that. You just… aren't in the circle anymore. They won't take your side over his, even if he's in the wrong. To them, you’re a threat."

"And the bandits?” Avizon asked. “They attacked you." "No proof he sent them," Orrien shrugged.

Avizon nodded slowly and sighed. "As I understand it, Ignium still doesn't like using his powers?" "Correct. I can ask next time I go to the spire, but there are no guarantees of action." "At least if it's stated, I can build up a case so if I have to fight him, then it's clearly not a sudden outburst which will make them all come after me. I don’t want to hurt the others, they don’t deserve it and they hate me enough as it is."

“I’ll do all I can to stop that happening,” Orrien promised.

Avizon frowned and looked down at his half-empty bowl. “If anything should happen to me… you will look after those two for me, won’t you? Or give them to someone I trust, like Rhix.” “Of course I will, but you’re going nowhere.”

Avizon could agree to that much. He was not going to let Erix beat him. He would fight for Dyan’s happiness and he would win. He decided it best to change the subject for Orrien’s sake. He didn’t want him feeling uncomfortable.

"How are the others anyway? What do they get up to these days?"

Orrien screwed up his face. "Well, Rhixius and Ignium still live in the Spire. Rhixius cares for him where and how he can. Ignium’s eyesight has… Settled. He can still see, though not as well. He usually just keeps his blindfold on, which saves him the pain of seeing prophecies left right and center. I don’t know if he’s happy sitting in one room all day, but he is safe and well, settled. Rhixius seems happy enough. He asks about you when I see him, I think he worries, that he hopes you’ll change."

Avizon nodded slowly. "Well, at least now you have good news for him. I suppose my actions would have been incredibly confusing for him, to be so evil and yet save his life... I’m glad he’s happy, honestly, I am. What about Azeera?"

"I don't think even Azeera knows what Azeera is doing. He travels a lot, still looking for a purpose. I don't think he'll ever get used to freedom."

"He'll get by…” Avizon said. “And the others? What of Zena and Rikora?” Orrien smiled. “Happy couple, living in their little fairy tale life. As far as I know they've a nice place in a Northern forest where's there's plenty of flowers. Rikora’s known for being very on edge all the time when we see her, but Zena does help her calm. We don't hear much from them, but they seem content.”

"I'm glad they found each other. And of course how could I forget dear sweet Alore? Studying as always?"

Orrien scrunched up his face. "Hard to say. You know she's a quiet one. Keeps her nose in a book instead of other people’s business. She keeps to her studies and her ‘machines’ and pays nothing else any attention.”

Orrien paused, pricking up his ears. "One of them is wandering," he mumbled.

Avizon turned in surprise, seeing Ihuka on the top step, not even in Orrien's line of sight. Avizon’s hearing was sharp, or so he thought, but he hadn’t heard him.

Ihuka wrung his fingers out and took a few moments to struggle with his words. “B.blan..kets? Blankets a.and… pillows… den?” Ihuka looked nervously at Avizon, with big eyes. He looked nervous. “Master?”

“You want blankets?” he guessed. Ihuka nodded. “Blue… want blankets.”

Avizon smiled softly and stood up. “Then you can get the blankets.” Orrien stood up and went to the store cupboard and gestured Ihuka closer. “Take as many as you want. Go ahead.” Ihuka took every single blanket with a big grin until Avizon couldn’t see his face anymore. He shook his head and chuckled as Ihuka made his way up the stairs with a massive pile.

He paused when he heard a thud, followed by an ‘oof’. Avizon turned his head to see Ihuka had tripped on a blanket and was very slowly sliding down the stairs on his stomach one at a time. He wasn’t hurt at least, not with the amount of material he had in his arms. He only stopped sliding when he was back at the bottom.

Avizon couldn’t stop himself from laughing. “Oh, Ihuka. You’re beyond precious. Do you want some help?” Ihuka looked at him nervously. Avizon simply smiled and helped him up and took some of the blankets. Avizon patted Ihuka’s head gently. His heart sank seeing Ihuka flinch, but once he realised it was safe, he smiled. Avizon carried the blankets upstairs to find Blue sitting up against the bed, and Dyan laying with his head on his lap.

“I’m not sure what you want to do with all of these, but I hope you have fun,” Avizon said to them. “Ihuka mentioned a den, are you going to build a pillow fort?” Dyan nodded, and managed a small smile. “Ihuka thought it would cheer me up. He said he usually uses leaves and sticks in the wild, but Blue thinks it will work with blankets.” The fact Dyan had slipped up and said he needed cheering up was proof enough that Dyan really wasn’t fine but he didn’t want to challenge him on it.

“Aye, it will work. I’m sure you’ll end up with something nice and cozy. I’ll get out of your way, I realise you’re not happy with me and I don’t want to make that any worse.”

Avizon dipped his head down, left the blankets in a pile and hobbled back down the stairs before Dyan could find his words. He let out a deep sigh before he sat back down. “They’re going to build a pillow fort. I’ve left them to it. I get the impression they need time on their own, so I don’t want to interfere.”

Avizon stayed downstairs with Orrien until the evening turned to night. He didn’t go back up to see the birds, but he heard their chirps and their laughter and soft tumbles which he assumed was Ihuka falling off the bed. He was happy that they were having fun, but he hated the feeling that weighed down on him, the feeling of being hated. He’d given Orrien some liquorice to take up for them when he’d taken their dinner in a feeble attempt to hopefully make them all feel that little bit better, to be able to feel like he was helping.

Avizon couldn’t focus on his conversation with Orrien, not while he could hear them. Orrien could see the emotion in his face, the uncertainty. “You have to take things one day at a time,” Orrien said to him. “Dyan has been through a lot. You did the right thing by not punishing him, so why are you beating yourself up like this?”

Avizon looked away and rubbed his arm.“Because the thought of those little cloudwalkers hating me is enough to make me feel sick. I said I was going to be better, and I am going to be, but right now, I just don’t know where to begin. Ihuka flinches under my touch no matter how soft I try to make my approach… I’d release them if I knew they’d be safe, but I know they’ll just get caught again. That and… out of selfishness. The birds have helped me to find myself again, if I let them go, I fear I’d go back into that darkness- and I can’t give up the dark magic before you say it. It’s just not an option.”

“I won’t bring up that topic and argue with you. We both know where the other stands. As for the birds, you have to give them time-” Orrien began, but he paused again. “Ihuka?” Avizon looked up tiredly at the top of the stairs to find Ihuka standing. Avizon watched him climb down, cradling something in one hand, hiding it almost. He inched closer to Avizon and held it out for him with a nervous smile. “Master… happy?”

Avizon looked down to see Ihuka was offering him the liquorice, thinking it would have the same effects on him as it did cloudwalkers. Avizon smiled sadly with tears in his eyes and asked for him to come closer. Ihuka did so without too much hesitation. Avizon dared to hug him, and Ihuka tensed, but he didn’t recoil. He covered Avizon with his wings and held him for a few moments, letting out a happy chirrup and relaxed in Avizon’s grip.

“You’re such a wonderful little bird, Ihuka. I’m so sorry that I ever hurt you...” Ihuka shoved the liquorice root up to his nose. “Master, happy.” Avizon took it from him and started to chew away at it. “Thank you, Ihuka, master is happy. Do you not want to go back upstairs and play with Dyan and Blue?” “Play...” it took him a few minutes to remember what the word meant but then he shook his head. “Dyan and Blue bed.” “Ah, they’ve fallen asleep,” Avizon guessed. “Well, you can stay down here a while.” He let Ihuka sit on his knee and Orrien gave him a nectarine. Ihuka carefully began to chew away at it, slurping at the juice.

Avizon took a moment to appreciate the tranquility, the lulling purr of the log fire, the gentleness of the candles lighting the dark room. Tiredness crept up on him steadily, but he didn’t want to go to bed and disturb Ihuka, so he sat still, yawning, finding it a little easier to focus on what Orrien said to him now he wasn’t so anxious. He looked up at the fireplace to see the portrait of Ro and he smiled. This was the feeling he had missed so much. Not being alone, staring at flames in a cold dark castle, but belonging somewhere, even if only slightly.

Avizon ruffled Ihuka’s hair and they enjoyed the calmer quiet until Ihuka had eaten his fruit. He yawned and started to lean more and more against Avizon. “You see? Putting this right isn’t as far away as it might feel. Ihuka cares, and I’m sure Dyan and Blue do too,” Orrien said softly. Avizon took the opportunity to carefully check the scratches Tashka had left behind on his torso, but they were healing nicely. “I think it’s bedtime, Ihuka,” he said, starting to yawn himself. He hadn’t realised just how tired he was, but he also wasn’t surprised. Fires had a tendency to make him sleepy.

Ihuka rubbed his eyes sleepily and stood, which made Avizon realise just how numb his leg was. He massaged it and let Ihuka wander back upstairs. Avizon eyed the chaise in the corner of the room. “Aye, it’s bedtime.” He carefully stood up and made his way over to it. “You can have my bed, you know-”

Avizon flopped down on the chaise, using his arm as a pillow. “Absolutely not. This’ll do,” he murmured. Orrien chuckled and passed him a pillow and the throw that he kept on his rocking chair. “Rest well, lad.” “‘Night...”

Orrien ruffled his hair before quietly retreating to his own room to rest and put such an emotionally tiring day behind him. He paused at the doorway to see Avizon sleeping and smiled. It was so good to be able to see more and more of his apprentice, the lad he’d proudly raised and cared for. To see his Avizon, not the monster that everyone whispered about. He was changing once again, and this time he hoped it was for the better.

“I’m proud of you, lad.”

#Cloudwalker series #my writing #Avizon #Ihuka #Orrien #Dyan #Blue #IHUKA IS THE MOST PRECIOUS BABY #He makes me so happy #and he makes Avizon happy too #none of my ocs deserve the whump headed their way #but they gonna get it anyway #as a sign of my love for them

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unstoppableforcce · 4 years

Text

dark side

—CHAPTER TWO: complicated

pairing: Javier Peña x reader

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a/n: this part may not flow the best but I think the next chapter is where a lot of it is going to come together. I just really love these two but to show y’all why, I have to get to the next chapter so bear with me here

There’s more to Colombia than drugs and communists.

He’d been in deep in this game for longer than he liked to admit, but he had never once heard a single soul at the Embassy acknowledge the country for anything more than America’s playground as moral authority. The United States government wanted to protect their interests, they put the DEA on the ground to stop the coke influx stateside and they put the CIA there to make sure their precious capitalism was protected.

That was drugs and that was communism. So what the hell did you mean when you said there was more?

He understood the greater sense of the sentiment, that it’s a real country with real people and real culture, but he figured that wasn’t what you had meant. When you said it, you meant there was another reason for you to be in Colombia.

Not something as big as coke and communism, otherwise Stechner would have never pulled you off of it, but clearly something big enough to piss you off about the new position you had in his bullpen. He just didn’t know what.

What he did know was that Stechner, for all that he was, was not lying when he said you were good at your job.

Javi spent the majority of his days trying to keep his head down in budget meetings and strategy discussions with the Ambassador, the Colombian government, and more men in suits than he cared to count, but you sat at your desk, and against every grain of rational thought you surely possessed, did work as you were ordered. Reviewing intelligence reports from the police that gave up nothing because the police were paid to give up nothing, transcribing summaries on useless movements of underling cartel members, making phone calls for tips that turned out to be nothing 99% of the time and most of all, leaving the room whenever he wanted to talk without CIA ears around.

In all honesty, he had never, in a million years, expected you to have been telling the truth when you said you didn’t want to be the spy you were placed there to be, but each and every day, he showed up to the office and there you were, already there before him, head down and doing work that wasn’t close to worth your time.

He just didn’t get it. He didn’t get you.

But against as better judgement, he was starting to think that maybe, just maybe, he was starting to believe you, to trust you.

So when the reporter outside all but told him explicitly that the accidental gas leak in Cali was a coverup, he got stuck on an idea he knew was bad the second it hit his mind.

“Can we talk in my office?”

Standing at the front of your desk as you listened to tapes through headphones, at first all he got was a finger held up to his face, asking him to wait while you tried to hear the last of the recording. From the looks of the files scattered across the top of your desk, it looked like it was probably a tape from a cornerstone interrogation in Miami.

However, from the look of the empty pad underneath the tip of your pen, it wasn’t yielding much in the way of information.

After a few seconds, you stopped the tape and pulled the headphones off, looking back up to him, “yeah?”

“My office?”

You nodded, following him in through the sliding glass door and waiting by his desk as he slowly shut it behind him. “Is there a problem?”

“What do you know about this gas leak?” He asked somewhat mindlessly as he slid around you and sat back at his desk. If this whole ‘putting a plant on his team’ thing was under the cover of interagency cooperation, shouldn’t he be getting something out of it too?

Judging by the way your brow quirked, he figured maybe not.

But after a second to steal a glance to the bullpen then to scan over him, your face returned to the look before the shock and you took a step closer with a shrug of your shoulders. “What do you know?”

“That there was a gas leak.”

You scoffed at that, shaking your head. “Amazing detective work there—“

“What do you know?” He was quick to cut you off before your sarcasm could make a full appearance but you merely shrugged again.

“They’re calling it an accident.” You took a step forward, resting your hands on the back of the chair across from him, “I think anyone with the ability to think for themselves know it probably wasn’t, or at least, not the kind they are going say it is.”

“You have more information that we do?”

“The CIA has guys on the ground in Cali, you don’t.” Everything sounded so matter-of-fact when you said it, like you had this infinite knowledge and his questions merely bored you. He hated that he wanted to know what you know, he hated it because he knew how you knew it.

Looking at you, he didn’t see you as the enemy anymore, but you certainly weren’t an ally, not as long as you were CIA. He couldn’t ignore that.

“I kind of got shit on the last time I had guys in Cali.” He tried to play off casually, like the weight of the mistakes made wasn’t still sitting on his shoulders, like he didn’t have to send two perfectly good agents back to the states to appease the absurdity of the situation...

But it got you to chuckle, a break in your serious disposition he had yet to see from you until now. And he really didn’t mind it. If anything, he wanted more.

“You have to play by the rules.” You smirked, “until you can’t.”

He quirked his head at that this time, “What do you know that I don’t?”

Another chuckle. He was in much deeper than he thought if you were going to keep doing that.

“The total tonnage of what I know that you don’t...” you shook your head as you trailed off, patting the chair gently before standing back up to full height. “You trust your people more than me anyways, right?”

He gave a curt nod.

“Then put some of them on the ground in Cali.”

With that, he gave you another nod and watched you leave, back to your desk to do more work that was so far beneath your skill level it wasn’t even funny. And that night, long after he noticed you leave with a stack of files under your arm, he turned on his TV to watch the news call the leak in Cali an accident, and like you said, it didn’t feel right.

He needed people in Cali, despite everything the ambassador wanted from him and Stechner expected of him, he knew what he wanted from himself.

He wasn’t so much as sleeping these days as he was laying in bed, threatening to succumb to the hellish weight of guilt on his chest. Both from the past and from now. And it certainly didn’t help that every time he fell to his bed even slightly sober that he was enraptured with thoughts of you and that one idiotic night.

The days of using woman as sources were over now that he was dealing with Cali and not Escobar, so his days of going home with anyone else had really ended the night he was with you and getting off to the thought of you, the CIA agent, and his hand certainly wasn’t helping his conscience.

He knew what he needed to do, he knew he needed to be a real agent again, supposed surrender or not.

So that night, before he left the office, he ordered Fiestl to Cali with his partner, and by the time he made it home, he actually caught an hour of real sleep.

Turns out you gave good advice.

Not just on putting men in Cali, but two days later, when he found you lingering by the coffee pot, you silently encouraged him to “follow the money”, and you were right then too.

The combined wit of himself, your sly commentary, and the ample help of the reporter and he found himself thanking Bill Clinton and knowing the name of the cartel’s money man within a matter of days. It was luck he hadn’t had in a very long time, so long that it felt way too good to be true.

He was getting back into the rhythm that reminded him of working on Escobar, doing real work, working towards real answers. He lacked good men to bounce ideas off of, missing Murphy and Carrillo more and more everyday, but he was doing good work. For the first time since he had been back in Colombia, he felt like he was doing the right thing.

He should’ve know the second he moved for a plane to Panama that nothing could ever work this perfectly for him, he just didn’t deserve it.

But you looked good in fatigues.

He wished he could’ve done more looking at the way you were practically highlighted against the drab airfield by the sharp cuts of your black tank top and the stilling army green of your cargo pants. He wished he could’ve taken a dive head deep into that distraction but he couldn’t.

As with every time he almost got caught staring at you, he was painfully reminded of exactly who you were. This time, it was you arguing with Stechner to pull him back to reality.

He didn’t hear the argument, he could just see the two of you were locked in it as he approached. By the time Stechner spotted his approach, he dismissed whatever you were saying and ended the conversation before Peña came close enough to hear.

He caught your stare briefly, noticing what he almost tricked himself into thinking was a blink of apology in your sincere stare, but he knew now that he didn’t have that kind of luck.

“What the fuck is going on?” He turned to the CIA station chief, trying to figure out if he really knew the definition of smug until he met him.

“Orders are orders, you heard the ambassador.” Stechner responded simply, the same kind of simple he always got from you, but at least a thousand times more superior in every way as he crossed his arms over his chest and gave a minuscule shrug. “Our friends from the senate want the down low from a real life hero.”

He heard your scoff from where you leaned against the helicopter, even as you tried to muffle it.

“Guess that’s you.” Stechner continued on, gesturing with a turn of his shoulders to the senators he had met earlier in the week, suiting up in vests and boots. “You got somewhere better to be?”

With that, he turned away completely, leaving just you, still leaning against the helicopter colored in the same shade of camouflage green as your fatigue pants were.

“You’re wearing the wrong shoes.” You tried to joke out but it was clear even through the heavy sheet of tension between the two of you that he didn’t find it very funny.

He let out an exhausted sigh and reluctantly loaded into the helicopter with you, Stechner and the two senators, pulling out his tie as he did. Unfortunately, as you moved for the empty seat next to him, Stechner grabbed ahold of your hand and redirected you to the seat next to him, leaving the prime real estate next to Peña wide open for the desperately chatty senators.

You tried to offer something of an apology in your stare as you pulled your headphones on and strapped in, but either he wasn’t reading into it what you were putting into it or he was just too annoyed to care. You certainly had no problem reading the frustrated annoyance in his stare, especially as the senator next to him tried to ask some question you couldn’t hear over the noise from the helicopter.

After a while of traversing over the seemingly endless green landscape, you felt the acceleration shift as the chopper began to land, but as you hopped out behind Stechner and tried to steal a glance back to Javier, he was back to ignoring you, stripping off he jacket and rolling up his sleeves.

He was terribly overdressed for a day in the jungle, which was a shame, it was a good suit on him.

As Stechner began his lecture for the Senators, you specifically hung back to be only a step in front of him.

“You were out, otherwise I would have warned you.” You offered over you shoulder once you were convinced the senators were entranced by the demonstration.

He was out tailing the king of cartel money laundering, he was making real progress... he couldn’t help but roll his eyes, no matter how genuine you sounded.

“I’m being serious—“

“I’m supposed to trust you?” He spoke in more of a whisper as he crunched through the jungle on your heel.

“Some things do exist outside my range of control, Peña.”

He starts making real progress and he gets detoured like this? No matter what you argued, mo matter what he thought about his own bad luck, coincidences like this didn’t just happen. He wasn’t needed here, ambassador’s orders or not, what the hell did the senators need to come out here for anyways?

Then came the smell.

The jungle had its own smell, but coke and dead bodies always managed to shine through.

“FARC or traffickers?” The senator asked.

“Both...” he heard Stechner say as he continued his explanation.

A blatant lie. All of this was a big fucking lie, one you seemed to have a personal hand in telling now that Stechner turned to you and easily coaxed facts from you, he couldn’t stand it.

He peeled off from the group, just trying to get out of his head but by the sound of crunching jungle beneath boots from behind him, he knew you were close following. Turning back towards you, he threw his hands up by his sides and let a scoff slip out, not expecting you to flinch but in no way comforted by your near robotic stare directed back his way.

Glancing behind you to be sure the senators and Stechner were out of range, he blew out a breath and turned back towards the jungle, “this whole thing is staged.”

You didn’t respond though, you just maneuvered around him, coming face to face with him.

“These aren’t traffickers.” He would kill for a cigarette as he stared you down, “they’re strapped with AK ammo and those fancy guns Stechner had you modeling are M-4s.”

“You know your guns...” you mused carefully and he purposefully scoffed directly in your face this time.

He was so far from amused, your comment barely registered with him before he continued on, “He’s using you as what? The pretty face behind all of this?”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing, like you’re the hero who brought down Escobar.” Shooting back, you took a challenging step up towards him. “He’s using you too.”

“You think I don’t know that?” He didn’t raise his voice, but his low shift in tone was just enough to send shivers down your spine.

But you weren’t one to back down, “Well you could’ve fooled me—“

“You’re the one who plays along—“ he was just as quick.

“It’s my job to play along, what the hell is your excuse?”

He stopped for a second, realizing just how close to argument brought him to you and took a step back, scratching at his brow as he did. He didn’t know why he let you get him so riled up, he didn’t know why you had the effect on him that you did.

Part of him figured it was because he liked you, that the determination and ability you demonstrate when you work as hard as you do is enough to distract him from who you are just long enough to let you in under his skin. But then he remembers why he isn’t supposed to like you, he remembers what you are a part of and it infuriates him. He can’t blame you for being what you are, he can’t even blame you for lying about it. Everything you had done up to this point was honest...

He could only blame himself for letting it get to him and he was pretty good at blaming himself for things.

“You have a cigarette?” He muttered as he turned back to you.

With your arms crossed over your chest, practically drawing his eyes to the low neck of your tank top, you shook your head, snapping his gaze back to yours. “I don’t smoke.”

He kicked the dirt beneath his shoes, the wrong shoes, and let out another hefty sigh.

“Were you lying about being in Colombia for something other that drugs and communism?” He eked out with a voice weaker than he could be proud of.

“I haven’t lied to you since I met you, Peña.” You were quick to retort, your voice never dropping in strength. “Why?”

He shook his head, settling his hands to his hips, “if you’re not here for this, why the hell do you let Stechner use you as a prop? Why do you let him get away with these lies for fucking fundraising?”

“It’s politics.” You scoffed back to him, taking a step closer. “You didn’t come to Colombia for it either, but here we both are.”

Great, he thought, another similarity between the two of you.

He hated that he couldn’t out-argue you, not that he was used to outsmarting the women he worked with, but most of the women he worked with were secretaries and assistants who were almost eager to bend to his will. You were smarter than him and he could tell the first time you opened your mouth in that bar.

He just wished he had realized then the shit he was about to bring down on himself and stopped before he even started.

But you were smarter than him, and he had to deal with that now.

“What did you come to Colombia for?”

You twisted your head, having not expected the question, but before you could open your mouth to give him the answer he was looking for, another voice called from behind the two of you.

“Agent Peña?” Both of you turned to see Stechner stood with his hands on his hips, “the Senators want to speak with you.”

He stole a glance back to you and you gave a heartless shrug, “good luck.”

A laugh nearly bubbled to the surface of his frustrated demeanor, like a joke the universe was playing. He had never had an ounce of good luck in his life, not before Colombia and certainly not now, as he scanned you over one last time.

You were his type, almost too perfectly his type. He couldn’t help but wonder if Stechner grew you in a tube just to mess with him, he certainly wouldn’t put it past the man. A beautiful woman, standing strong in army fatigues and a member of the CIA. He was shaking his head a lot more these days then his last time in Colombia, or at least it felt like he was.

Good luck...

He didn’t have any of that. All he could hope was that maybe Fiestl and Van Ness did.

-> tags: (let me know if you’d like to be added or if I missed you! I’m not great at tagging lol)

@the-feckless-wonder @arrowswithwifi @ms-dont-care @leo-moon @tiffdawg @readsalot73 @way-too-addicted-to-anime @keeper0fthestars @adikaofmandalore @opheliaelysia @magneticbucky

#javier peña x reader #javier pena #javier pena x reader #relliot takes on javier pena #narcos

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habibialkaysani · 3 years

Text

The Old Guard (Laurel/Nyssa; M) - Part II

Ships: Laurel/Nyssa

Summary: Laurel Lance and Nyssa Raatko are happily married - and have been for centuries. Along with Helena Bertinelli, this immortal army follows their equally immortal leader, Dina Drake, in the fights that they think are right.

But after one of their comrades makes a fatal lapse in judgement, Laurel and Nyssa find themselves trapped in their very worst nightmare - captured, as nothing more than lab rats. Luckily, the team has also just found its newest member, Sarah Diggle, so maybe all isn’t lost.

A/N: Happy New Year everyone! Gonna start out 2021 with a new chapter of this, and then all that will be left is a bit of smut :D

Read at AO3

At Fuller Pharmaceuticals, Laurel breathed a sigh of relief when the scientist finally walked away, frowning at his clipboard and adjusting his glasses with one gloved hand. Turning a little on her side, she looked across her to the bed next to hers, and even though Nyssa was hooked up to a million machines just like Laurel, it was a relief to see her awake again.

"Hey," Laurel said softly.

"Are you okay, hayati?" Nyssa asked with concern in her eyes. "Laurel? What are you thinking about?"

"Honestly, I was, uh, thinking about - simpler times. When it was just the two of us, and the biggest thing we had to worry about was reconciling being from wildly different worlds yet still finding each other…"

"Dearest," Nyssa said with a smile, "it is like I told Ms Diggle. Some people are just meant to find each other. One way or another. And I realise, Laurel, that we are in hellish circumstances right now. But you have to know - I made you a promise, to spend however many centuries, or decades, or weeks, or days, or hours or even seconds I have left in my life with you. I swore an oath to you that I don't plan on breaking. Not now. Not ever."

Laurel smiled back, revelling in how Nyssa’s face lit up as she did so. “You know I love you, right?”

“I do, my love, but I will never tire of hearing it.”

“Remember Malta, habibti?”

“What time in Malta?” Nyssa asked, and Laurel met her gaze and arched her eyebrow. Laurel couldn’t help but chuckle because she could pinpoint the exact point when it dawned on Nyssa what she meant. A faint rosy blush coloured Nyssa’s cheeks and Laurel sighed - because even where they were, with the flecks of blood scattered on her forehead and her mussed up hair there was no doubt that Nyssa Raatko was the most beautiful woman Laurel had ever seen. “Ah. That time in Malta.”

“I could really use that Hilton honeymoon suite right about now.”

“That would be nice. What was it you said? Or did I say it - that we weren’t gonna stop till we passed out?”

Laurel laughed. "It was me, definitely. I think we must have lasted… sixteen hours, if I recall correctly.” Nyssa smiled, shrugging nonchalantly. “What if… what if we said that - if we get out of here -”

“When we get out of here,” Nyssa said firmly.

“When we get out of here,” Laurel said softly, “we… try breaking that record?”

“You promise?”

“You want me to cross my heart?” Laurel was probably deflecting a bit now, to fight off the emotion that threatened to break over her at any moment with a shaky smile that she knew Nyssa could see right through.

“I love you,” Nyssa whispered, “and we will be fine. I promise.”

Laurel held onto that confession from her beloved as tightly as she could in her mind, as the scientist returned with even more invasive and painful tests. She kept in her screams for as long as she could, not because she was afraid of showing weakness but rather because she knew Nyssa couldn't bear to hear them - only after the fifth extraction, this one from Laurel's brain, there was nothing she could do to curb her agony as the needle pierced her temple. Laurel's screams prompted Nyssa's, prolonged when the scientist kept the needle in long after she had collected the tissue she needed.

It was only when Laurel's lungs felt like they were being rubbed raw from the inside that the scientist finally seemed done with her. But then Laurel was filled with horror at the sight of the scientist raising a fresh needle and looking for the right spot on Nyssa.

Desperately, Laurel wanted to tell the evil woman to fucking take her again, not to touch Nyssa, not to lay a hand on her or so help her God - but nothing came out of Laurel's mouth except for a strangled croaky sound.

Suddenly the double doors nearest them burst open, and Laurel was shocked to see Dina, a gunshot wound at her side, unconscious, and Helena, who looked shaken but otherwise unhurt.

"Shit," Laurel croaked.

"Dina!" Nyssa shouted.

Ignoring both of them, the soldiers manhandling Dina and Helena strapped them into the beds next to Laurel and Nyssa. The scientist was at Dina's side in an instant.

"I want her alive," said another voice, and Laurel squinted as Max Fuller stepped into her line of sight.

"I'll need an IV in her, and some antibiotics," the scientist said.

"Good," Fuller said, clapping his hands together like he was a child. "Good. Work fast - I expect results. Even from the dying one. Even if you have to carve slices from these fuckers to do it."

"This is not what was agreed," Helena said hotly. "None of this is -"

Laurel was sure in that moment that her heart thudded to a complete halt. "What the fuck did you just say?"

"I can explain," Helena said, but the pieces were already falling into place in Laurel's brain, and clearly in Nyssa's too.

"Oh, Helena," Nyssa said in a hushed tone. "Helena. What have you done?"

"I'll let you ladies talk this out while you still can," Fuller said with a smirk. "As for what was agreed - even if it wasn’t between you and Ms Waller, do I really strike you as a man to keep to my word?"

With that, Fuller sauntered out of the lab, and Nyssa struggled against her restraints. "You selfish piece of garbage, Helena!"

"Nyssa," Laurel said, "don't."

"No, Laurel - I will not sit here and watch you be tortured because our friend decided to betray us!"

"They tortured you?" Helena said, and while she spoke, Dina began to stir. The scientist was still in the midst of changing Dina's bandage, before hooking her up to an IV bag.

"Did you think Doctor Evil over here would make me a cup of tea?"

To her credit, the scientist did not comment on this, instead pulling off his gloves and walking away. Helena grunted and tried to sit up. "I'm sorry, okay? This wasn't how it was supposed to go -"

"Damn right it wasn't," Nyssa said. "I thought we were your family."

"I just wanted a way out, okay?"

"And in the process," Laurel said bitterly, "you found the boss's instead."

"I didn't know she wasn't healing," Helena said. "I wouldn't have shot her if I knew that -"

"You shot her? As if being a traitor isn't enough on its own?"

"Stop it," Dina said weakly, and she was clearly groggy and not fully lucid, but it was enough to quieten everyone for a moment.

"Boss, you still with us?" Laurel said. "Boss?"

"Still kicking," Dina said faintly. "But everything really fucking hurts."

"You're going to be okay," Nyssa said, as she always did - but Laurel wondered if that was possible given their circumstances.

"Oh, Nyssa," Dina said with the tiniest trace of a smile on her dull lips. "I say this with love, but you are a really shitty liar."

"I'm sorry, boss," Helena said. "If I knew -"

"- it wouldn't have changed a goddamn thing," Dina panted. "We both know that. More than anyone in this room."

Laurel took this in in silence. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"You and Nyssa always had each other," Helena said. "From the beginning it was you and her. Always and forever. But me - all I had was my grief. And Dina too -"

"Don't you fucking dare bring her into this," Laurel snarled.

"I did want a way out," Dina admitted. "I was tired too. But it wasn’t supposed to be like this, Helena. Not with people who see us as nothing but lab rats. Just because I wanted an end doesn't mean I wanted it to be this messy. Or that you’d get our family involved. I can't believe you came to these people for answers."

"I made a mistake." Helena looked at Laurel pleadingly, but Laurel had no sympathy now towards the woman she would have died for mere hours earlier.

"Quelle fucking surprise."

“It just got out of hand. Waller didn't say anything about anyone getting hurt. And it was just meant to be me. None of you.”

“Shut up, Helena,” Dina said tiredly.

“Hear, hear,” Nyssa said.

“No, all of you, shut up! Listen!”

When they all quietened, Laurel could just about make out the sound of a scuffle in the next room, and it was only then she realised who was missing.

“Where’s Sarah?” Laurel said.

“She wanted out, got cold feet, so I gave her the car,” Dina said, panting and struggling to catch her breath as she groaned in pain. “But now I’m thinking -”

She was interrupted, though, when the double doors burst open and the soldiers guarding them fell on their faces in a haze of bullets - and in their wake was Sarah fucking Diggle.

Laurel was so grateful to see Sarah that her face broke into a smile, to the point that she practically forgot she had been scowling two seconds earlier.

“What are you doing here?” Nyssa said.

“Not that we’re not thrilled to see you, of course -” Laurel interjected.

“I figured we’re not gonna be family until I get to save your asses, right?” Sarah said with a grin, putting a gun in Dina’s hand. “You don’t look so good, Dina.”

“No shit,” Dina said, deadpan, but then she raised her gun and fired two rounds at the soldier that was about to run inside the room.

“You’ve still got it, boss,” Nyssa said with a wink.

“How did you find us?” Helena asked, with something of a pained expression on her face.

“Someone called Waller,” Sarah answered. “She said she’d made a huge mistake.”

“Seems to be going around,” Laurel muttered.

Sarah just shrugged. “Anyway. She helped me get in here.” Then, as she unstrapped Dina’s other wrist, Sarah asked, “You okay to move?”

“I was ready yesterday, kid.”

Next to Dina was Laurel, who Sarah freed from her restraints, and then Laurel jumped up to do the same for Nyssa. The two of them found their shirts underneath their beds, hastily pulling them on and buttoning them up.

When Sarah started to undo Helena’s restraints, though, Helena shook her head. “Just leave me here, Sarah.”

“I’m not leaving anyone behind,” Sarah said firmly.

“First time for everything,” Nyssa said, but Dina held up her hand.

“No. She’s coming. We’re gonna end Fuller and then will all walk out of here in one piece. Same as always.”

“She sold us out, boss!”

“I’m aware,” Dina said, grimacing in pain and scrunching her eyes shut as she got to her feet. “But she’s still one of us. Just like I am. Even though both of us have lost our way a bit.”

“Boss -”

“You and me, Helena, we’re still in this shitty game together, all right? Maybe I believed you all the times that you said that all we had was our own grief -”

“What are you talking about?” Nyssa demanded sharply.

Dina didn’t answer, though - Helena did. “You wouldn’t understand, Nyssa. Sometimes I wonder if you even see anyone in the world beside your wife -”

“Don’t you fucking dare start on her,” Laurel warned, but Dina held up her hand in finality.

“You’re gonna have her back and she’ll have yours, Laurel, Nyssa, and that’s an order,” Dina interrupted, and after glancing at Nyssa, Laurel nodded resignedly, accepting the handgun Sarah handed to her.

“Copy that.”

“All ready to roll?”

They moved out, and despite their fractured state as a team they still worked well together - they fought using the muscle memory that came with decades and centuries of being on the front lines flanking and protecting one another.

But this time one of their number was injured, and that slowed them in a way they weren’t used to. Sarah took three bullets for Dina, shielding her, and Nyssa, getting the same idea, followed her lead, doing the same by covering Dina on her left. Laurel brought up the rear, following the team into the reception area of Fuller Incorporated - but they were then hit by tear gas, making their formation scatter.

Faintly, Laurel could hear Helena saying that they were moving out, and Laurel reached around blindly in the gas clouding the air, searching increasingly desperately for her beloved’s wrist. When she found it she breathed a sigh of relief, but she then had the wind knocked out of her as two soldiers wrestled her to the floor and the bang of bullets sounded. Laurel felt a surge of adrenaline, white-hot with rage, as she kicked her assailants with such force that they were knocked off their feet; for good measure Laurel stamped on their throats, before the gas cleared and she could just make out Nyssa lying on the floor.

“Shit, shit, shit,” Laurel whispered. Nyssa was motionless, a bloodied wound on her head where she’d been shot, and all of a sudden and all at once, it hit her: she started to understand Helena’s forlorn expression as she spoke of loneliness and grief. “Nyssa. NYSSA! Awaken, my love. Please. Please don’t leave me. Not now. I can’t. I can’t do this without you, habibti. Habibti, please wake up. Habibti -”

With a gasp, Nyssa came back to life, and in a way so did Laurel, her intake of breath so sharp it was like Nyssa had breathed life into them both. Tears dripping down her cheeks, Laurel cradled Nyssa’s face, her jaw, her fingers meeting blood and dirt.

“Nyssa,” Laurel said reverently, and her love’s name tasted like a prayer on her tongue. “I thought I lost you.”

“I’m okay, ya Laurel. Let’s go - Dina needs us.”

In the end, their day only took one more strange turn, when Sarah defeated their enemy by running him out of a sixty-seventh storey window, crashing into a car. Nyssa helped Sarah to her feet, along with Helena, and they piled into a car and drove away.

So much went on in such a short period of time that Laurel, in the passenger seat beside Nyssa, only realised her legs were shaking when her wife's hand found her knee to still it.

#laurel x nyssa #lauryssa #femslashrevolution #scififemslash #laurel lance #nyssa al ghul #mine #my fic

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hedwigstalons · 4 years

Text

High Expectations - Ch18

Short fic? Really? How the hell have we reached chapter 18 already?

@willow-salix has been a huge support all the way through. She wields the red pen mightily

Earlier parts: One, Two, Three, Four, Five, Six, Seven, Eight, Nine, Ten, Eleven, Twelve, Thirteen, Fourteen, Fifteen, Sixteen, Seventeen

AO3 chapter link

Chapter Eighteen

John closed the apartment door and basked in the silence. The last few weeks had been awful but the last few days had been hellish. If you had asked him two days ago what had been the hardest part of this summer he would have answered without hesitation his thesis defence interview, not because he had any difficulty with his project but because, even after 4 years at Harvard some of the faculty still struggled with his presence.

He had bounced onto the quad aged sixteen, looking more like twelve, and instantly made a name for himself by criticising the work of one of the more well respected professors on campus. It probably hadn’t helped that he had been right. Since then he had been dogged by whispers of ‘Daddy’s money’ or heckled as an android freak as he eschewed the company of the peers that would never truly be peers due to the gaps in both age and intellect. University had been a bittersweet mix of unbridled access to learning mixed with a social web to navigate that made high school look like an insignificant warm up. The culmination of it all had been his thesis defence in front of a panel who didn’t know whether to be intimidated by him or offer him a cookie for being a good boy. Still, he was walking away from it all, with dual honours and a postgraduate distinction, at an age not dissimilar from those just starting their higher education journey.

The troubles and torments of university, however, had nothing on the hell on Earth that was Boston airport for an extended period of time. He could now categorically say that this had been the worst part of the summer. The route between east and west coast seemed to be plagued by delays but this, his final time of making the journey, had topped the lot. Being held up for an unspecified period of time in an airport lounge had brought out the worst in humanity and after a delay that had pushed past 36 hours in the end he would be quite happy to never see another human ever again. With the apartment door firmly shut on the outside world he fully intended to recharge and bask in the solitude before Alan got home from school.

He padded up the hallway to deposit the travel bag containing a few meagre essentials in his room but never made it that far.

The apartment might have been silent but it wasn’t empty. His room was next to Alan’s and through the open door he could see that self same teenager sat cross legged on the bed, head set on, controller in hand and eyes glued to the screen that flashed with neon laser cannons and moved at a dizzying pace. Part of him wanted to tiptoe on past, pretend he hadn’t spotted his younger brother, and collapse onto his own bed. John could have sworn that he hadn’t done anything that could penetrate the teenager’s electronic cocoon but before he had crossed the doorway Alan’s head whipped round and fixed him with an intense blue stare.

Alan paused the game, dropped the controller next to him and slid off the headset. He continued to stare in a way that he could see was making his older brother uncomfortable, holding the eye contact that always made John squirm a little, but at this point he didn’t care.

The weeks before Gordon’s departure had been busy. With a fixed deadline firmly etched on the calendar Jeff had ramped up the pressure on Gordon to gain his pilot’s licence and all the myriad of special endorsements he would need beyond the basics in order to complete a cross-continental journey solo. Alan wasn’t quite sure why such a high rated licence was necessary but he had appreciated all the extra time at the airfield it necessitated. Almost every weekend had been spent there so that Gordon could get in the required practice and he had always tagged along, partly to spend more time with Gordon and partly in the hope of getting a lesson himself; it turned out flying was something he had a flair for and he relished those precious moments in the cockpit. But then Gordon had gained his licence and the lessons had dried up. Time in the sky went from being a priority to something his father was too busy to provide. It rankled that he wasn’t worth the effort.

And then the dreaded day had come. The day he lost the brother he was closest to to the military might of WASP. He’d probably come across as petulant and moody, his goodbyes stilted and brief, but the sullen exterior had been his armour protecting him from breaking as something inside him died. He hadn’t even been able to go with Gordon on the trip up the coast as had been the original plan. A last minute change had seen their father disappear off on some mysterious overseas errand, leaving Virgil to play taxi service to the WASP to be. He had begged to go too but unfortunately for him the start date for Gordon had coincided with Scott having some leave and Virgil was staying up north to indulge in some oldest brother bonding time. So he had been left behind, alone in the apartment, with the promise that John would have arrived by morning.

Morning had dawned but the promised sibling hadn’t appeared. The logical side of him knew there would be a perfectly rational explanation for John’s delay but the emotional side of him just added it to the heap of rejection he was feeling. No one gave a damn about him. Noone cared what he was doing. He’d turned right around and headed back into his room to kill zombies. When the second morning dawned and he was still alone the only difference it made was that the zombies were replaced by asteroids.

John was pinned uncomfortably by the stare. Everything about Alan screamed out that he was issuing a challenge, daring John to pass comment. If he had ignored John’s presence he probably would have been left alone but John was a Tracy too and as with all Tracys he never could resist a challenge.

“No school today?” he queried, one eyebrow raised in preemptive skepticism.

“Does it look like it?”

“What it looks like is you playing video games on a Tuesday in term time. The news didn’t mention any schools being flattened by freak hurricanes so why are you here?”

Alan just shrugged and went to pick up his controller again.

“Alan!”

“What?! It’s not like there’s any point me being there.”

“There is always a point to school.”

“Yeah? Well I’m not learning anything there, the stuff they set is just insulting.”

This was one point John could empathise with, boredom in the classroom was a familiar feeling to him. He felt lucky that he had met forward thinking teachers early on in his school career. Teachers that had put the effort in to find out his level rather than being happy to have a coasting child in the class that didn’t need their assistance. The result had seen him progressing through grade school at a pace that, while it still felt slow to him, at least meant he wasn’t inflicted with the full, tortuous twelve years. Alan on the other hand had been forced to stay firmly in his age grade.

“What about your friends, surely you’re bored here without them?”

That just earned him an eye roll.

“Can we just skip the questions and head straight to the part where you lecture me.”

“Would it make a difference? I’m not Dad but you do realise he is going to be majorly pissed when he finds out, don’t you?”

“He’ll only find out if you tell him.”

“You think he won’t find out from school?”

Alan just sighed.

“Seriously Johnny, Gordon and I got all comms from school diverted directly to us years ago. I’ve already responded to their email.”

“You and Gordon did that?” He was secretly a little impressed that his brothers had found a way to bypass the school systems although he was concerned that their father had seemingly never noticed.

“Well, okay, I did that. Gordon’s not so hot on the technical stuff but it was his idea. Dad’s never been that great at dealing with letters and permission slips so I just got in through a school admin account and updated the contact details. If it’s not a report card he isn’t interested.”

John decided not to pass comment on the low level hacking his baby brother had pulled off. Instead he picked his way across the minefield that was Alan’s floor to join his little brother on the bed. The mattress felt deliciously soft compared to the plastic seat upon which he had been forced to spend the night and he felt his bones sigh in relief. His own bed was still calling out to him but his big brother instincts were screaming at him to fix things, even if he wasn’t entirely sure what he needed to fix. The screaming won. He leaned across to grab a second controller off the cluttered bedside unit and synced it into the game.

“So, what’re we playing? I don’t recognise this one but then there wasn’t much time for gaming at Harvard.”

Alan looked bemused by the turn of events. Scott held an authority that demanded respect, Virgil would take a softer and more caring approach, Gordon provided a mix of straight talking and fun whereas their father subscribed to the school of parenting that was mostly indifferent until an indiscretion was unearthed. John was still a bit of an unknown entity, he’d never taken on the role of authority figure for Alan and he couldn’t work out his brother’s strategy.

“Uh, it’s something I made myself.” Alan disconnected his headset and the background music of the pause screen sounded out harshly in the otherwise quiet apartment eliciting an involuntary wince from John. He guiltily turned the volume down to a more comfortable level before resuming play.

They sat side by side in silence for a few minutes, blasting asteroids and navigating their way through a fast moving debris field. The game concept appeared simple and John wondered why Alan had done it; it wasn’t like he couldn’t afford to stock up on the commercially available games.

“Games design is a new one for you, this a school project or something?”

John sensed the eye roll even without taking his own eyes off the screen.

“Hardly. School sucks.”

“So, why make the game?”

“It’s not about the game. I wanted to see if I could model a debris field. Thought if I could get it right it could be good training, you know, before astronaut school.”

“I think you’ll find Tracy College already has their own simulators. How do you even know this is accurate.” Alan had made no secret about his desire to head into space and it looked like that was still the life plan. Part of John hoped the game wasn’t accurate, the objects were flying in thick and fast and he was struggling to react in time to find a clear path for his craft and guide it through. Alan, on the other hand, was having no such difficulties; his movements were lightening fast and the game seemed to hold no challenge for him.

“Borrowed your books.” Alan set his own controller down as John’s ship took a direct hit and exploded in a mass of technicolour pixels that ended the game. He stretched out and plucked a weighty tome off the edge of his desk.

“Borrowed? I don’t remember you asking.” John recognised the volume as one of the few undergraduate text books he had investing in the hard copy of. Slips of coloured paper stuck out at intervals and the pages were rather more worn and well thumbed than he remembered.

Alan pointedly ignored the question and instead flipped through to the relevant pages.

“I’m not sure if I got this bit right though. I struggled to combine the effect of an explosion induced debris field interacting with a meteor shower.”

However John had been expecting his talk to go with Alan, it hadn’t been like this. He soon found himself drawn into an animated discussion of the core principles of astrophysics and how material behaved in a vacuum. Alan’s grasp of the subject, considering he was entirely self taught, surprised the elder Tracy. On his rare visits home Alan had always pestered him to go star gazing or asked him his thoughts on the latest developments in astronaut training but he’d had no idea that Alan’s interest had extended into him seemingly attempting to study most of the first year of his Harvard course from home. No wonder the kid was bored at school.

When Jeff returned later that night it was to find the two boys deeply engrossed in some project or other. Books and piles of scribbled notes lay scattered around them and John’s fingers danced through lines of holographic code as he pointed out some facet or other to the younger boy who seemed to hang on his every word. He assumed John was helping Alan with his homework and thought no more of it as he settled down to his own evening.

xoxoxox

“Mr Tracy, a Miss West is on the line for you.”

Jeff frowned at the unexpected intrusion from his personal assistant. “Miss West?” He couldn’t place the name.

“She says she is calling from the High School, Sir”

“Put her through then.” He paused a moment until the slight click indicating a change in caller reached his ears.

“Mr Tracy? I’m Sarah West, Alan’s home room teacher.” The woman on the other end of the call sounded slightly nervous and with good reason, the Tracy reputation was formidable and seeing Alan’s name on her class list when he had joined the school had led to rounds of commiserations in the faculty lounge.

“Miss West, what can I do for you?” He tried to keep the puzzlement out of his voice. The last time he had received a call from the school, or any kind of communication now he came to think about it, had been over Gordon’s suspension. He hoped he was not in for a repeat of that embarrassing incident.

“I just wanted to check on how Alan was doing. The class are all missing him and hope he is able to return to school soon.”

Jeff understood the words being spoken but the actual sentiments made no sense. As far as he was concerned Alan was at school at that very moment. He kept his voice carefully neutral.

“I thank you for your concern Miss West. I will certainly pass on your regards when I see Alan this evening.”

“Thank you Mr Tracy. Please accept my best wishes for you and all your family, it can be so hard when these things happen. Please keep me informed of his progress through the parent portal and once Alan is well enough to come back we will look at putting a catch up and transition programme in place for him. Alan is a bright boy and I have every confidence that he will be able to catch up with these missed weeks.”

“Thank you Miss West. I will of course keep you informed. Now if you will excuse me.”

“Of course Mr Tracy, goodbye.”

“Goodbye Miss West.”

Missed weeks. The words rang out in his head, causing him to rub his temples. Trouble at school had always been Gordon’s domain, he’d been gone for months but still his influence was being felt. Alan had always taken after John until now; good grades, generally studious and with a passion for space. Whatever was going on Jeff knew he needed to nip it in the bud. Pausing only to inform his PA that he would be heading out for lunch and might not return that day Jeff headed back to the apartment.

Jeff found Alan in his room, engrossed in some project or other. He rapped smartly on the doorframe, breaking the teen’s concentration and causing him to look round in surprise. The look Jeff was treated to wasn’t one of fear or remorse though and there was certainly no sign of guilt at being caught where he shouldn’t.

“Alan, my study. Now!” He strode off down the hallway without waiting for a response.

Alan sighed and followed, knowing that to ignore a direct command would be foolish. By the time he reached the study Jeff was already behind the desk in his customary position for dispensing judgement, a situation Alan had rarely been in but had certainly heard about often enough from Gordon. He was more than a little intimidated at the prospect of what was to come but he tried not to let it show as he stood there, ramrod straight, waiting for his father to make the opening move.

“So Alan, I had an interesting call from Miss West today. Explain yourself”

The words caused Alan’s stomach to drop, there was no way he could pass today off as an isolated incident now. He had been signing off on his absences via the parent portal but if his teacher had actually called up then it was likely his father knew everything. Not knowing what to do for the best he opted to say nothing. The silence stretched out uncomfortably as he felt himself being appraised by eyes as hard as flint.

“I see. Let’s keep this simple. How long have you been skipping school for?”

“Since the beginning of the semester.” There was no point lying about it now. After his few days of indiscretion when Gordon first headed off to WASP John had made sure he went off to school each day. At the end of the summer holidays though, with John and Virgil departed for Tracy College, there was no one to force the issue. September had arrived and with it the start of a new school year but among the faces arriving for a fresh round of learning Alan’s had been notably absent.

“Why? Your teacher seems to be under the impression you are unwell. Are you unwell?” The skeptical lilt to the voice and raised eyebrow would have made even John proud.

“No.”

“So why are you risking failing high school?”

“Failing it?” Alan snorted “School’s boring. I’d be able to get my diploma now if they’d just stick me in the right classes, then I could be done with the place.”

“And what makes you think you could complete your diploma now if you won’t attend class”

“John did.” Alan’s chin jutted out in defiance and Jeff was given a sudden and uncomfortable reminder of another son who had found school far too easy. The arguments may have had a different focus but Alan wouldn't be the first Tracy to have found the system too limiting, the difference being that John had been fast tracked before the boredom got too much. “I’m not learning anything at school. It’s not like I’m just flunking out though, John’s been sending me some stuff through that’s far more interesting.”

“That’s as maybe but did John tell you to just ditch classes? I seem to remember him maintaining an exemplary attendance record”

For the first time Alan felt a wave of guilt, the weight of it causing him to bow his head in shame. John may have agreed with him that the school work he was being set was far too easy and been coaching him on more challenging topics to feed his thirst for knowledge on all things astronomical, but his brother would never have condoned him skipping class. He was not going to let John take any of the blame for his choices.

“No, Sir.”

“I see.”

Alan wasn’t quite sure what it was his father saw as he stood there being appraised like some interesting specimen. There was another drawn out silence. He could almost hear his father’s thoughts as he considered his next move.

“Show me.” Alan’s head jerked up in confusion. “Persuade me. A key skill you would learn in school, if you were there, is how to present a well balanced and constructed argument. Prove your case. I’ll be here waiting.”

Alan had been expecting some sort of reprimand, either a bawling out or a quietly pronounced punishment. So far he had received neither and he was feeling a little on the back foot but then his father had a flair for the unexpected, it’s what made him a formidable adversary in the boardroom. He retreated to his room to think upon the challenge. He wasn’t sure what he wanted to prove, didn’t have a clue what his argument was or what he wanted to achieve but he knew he had better come up with a plan fast. It felt like he was being offered a lifeline of some sort but a lifeline that had the potential to cut you down if grasped in the wrong way.

He retreated into his room and sat down at the desk, the detritus of his latest project from John scattered in front of him where he had abandoned it at his father’s command. What did he want? He knew he didn’t want to go back into that hell-pit high school, each day of drudgery just sapped the life out of him, but how could he prove to his father that school was only holding him back? He gazed unseeingly as the scribbled formulae he had been working on, all the time conscious that his father wouldn’t wait forever.

Those same formulae presented him with his answer. His father had always been focussed on results, getting the most efficient return on his investment and abhorred anything he viewed as a waste of time. Alan knew that if he could prove beyond doubt that attending school was just wasting precious learning time then he might never have to go back. He started gathering together the work he had been doing for John as evidence that he really didn’t need to sit through another hour of basic trigonometry when he was already able to apply it to complex problems.

Jeff sat back and waited. He couldn’t predict Alan’s next move but then he realised he didn’t really know Alan at all. All the way through the young boy’s life his care had fallen to others. Others had formed him and moulded him and evidently turned Alan into someone capable of missing several weeks of school under his nose without him realising. Those influences had all been evident during their short exchange. He had witnessed Gordon’s defiance and determination, John’s intellect and Virgil’s sense of justice. Even traces of Scott were evident in the set of Alan’s jaw and the way he held his shoulders despite Scott only really being present for half of Alan’s short life. How telling that a brother absent some eight years held more influence than he did as father. If there was one thing common to all his sons though it was the ability to rise to a challenge; the afternoon had the potential to be surprising.

Jeff never made it back to the office. He couldn’t remember the last time he had had a meaningful and in depth discussion with his youngest son. His conversations with Alan were normally limited to a few perfunctory exchanges in the evening and maybe a goodbye if Alan was up before he headed to the office. Over the course of the afternoon he got more insights into Alan than any mere report card could give. For a start those bland documents could only show that Alan had met the maximum expected standard for his class, behind the lists of grades his son’s true abilities had been hidden.

Alan might have been skipping school but he hadn’t been squandering his time. Jeff was treated to comparisons of the high school math curriculum compared to the problems John had been setting, ostensibly as a way of Alan bolstering a future college application as the middle Tracy had been unaware that the youngest had abandoned his traditional studies completely. Physics, coding and a raft of other topics handy for the modern astronaut similarly followed and it became clear that Alan was willing to put the effort in on the topics that interested him.

Once Alan had finished lambasting the Californian education system he turned hopeful eyes on his father.

“So, can I quit?”

If there was one thing that Jeff agreed on it was that the current curriculum being inflicted on Alan was uninspiring and certainly not challenging for the youngster. He was also conscious that his lawyers had not managed to secure the removal of their family tragedy from the text books in time for this academic year and therefore Alan would be subjected to the same ordeal as Gordon in just a few short months time if he stayed in the classroom. However, he also knew that without a high school diploma Alan would be unlikely to be able to access the higher education he needed to turn his dreams of space into a reality; he knew this from his own path to the stars.

“No.”

“But Dad…”

“No Alan, I will not have any son of mine walking away from education without a high school diploma. If you are at all serious about becoming an astronaut then you need to play by the rules, without a diploma you would be ineligible for any of the space programmes out there.”

Jeff watched the disappointment flood his son’s features and wondered if Alan had really been paying attention to his words and whether he would spot the loophole in his pronouncement. He waited as Alan put together his next move, he could almost see the thoughts as they played out. Alan always had been the son to wear his emotions closest to the surface.

“I just have to get my diploma, right?” There was a hesitancy as a glimmer of hope was seized on.

“That’s right.”

“But there are other ways of getting my diploma, not just in school. Right?”

“Potentially. So what do you want to do?”

“Can I...can I do homeschool? I’m sure we’ve got everything I need to join an online programme and then just get it done.”

Jeff paused as though contemplating the request. Really, having Alan homeschooled would be better for both of them; Alan could learn at his own pace and he would find it easier to have oversight of his son’s progress and commitment.

“You have until the end of the week to find a suitable programme otherwise I will march you straight back to the classroom myself on Monday morning. I know you don’t see the point of half the subjects you have to take but they are important, your diploma is important, even if it’s only as a paper steppingstone to better things.” Jeff found himself on the receiving end of one of Alan’s grins and realised sadly that he hadn’t seen one of those since their last flying lesson. “Now, don’t you have some research to do?”

Alan took the hint and headed out of the study with far more bounce than he’d had when entering it. Jeff had no concerns about delegating the task to his son, the similarities to John had been clear to see and he had every faith that Alan would find a suitable programme within the allotted time frame. The fact that the change to homeschooling came with the added bonus of one less loose end to tie up when the time came to relocate was not lost on him.

#High Expectations #thunderbirds #Thunderbirds fanfiction #Jeff Tracy #Alan Tracy #John Tracy #space brothers getting their own way

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