#this TRAITOROUS BRAIN of mine refuses to come up with any ideas
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Have you posted any other writings online before? Hungry for more PMD angst :)
I haven't, actually! This is the first time I've ever put any of my writing out into the public, other than a brief (and very unsuccessful) venture into posting original fiction on Wattpad. You can imagine my shock and awe at discovering such a lovely audience upon migrating to Tumblr and fanfic.
I've been fighting hard to cook up some oneshots as a way to keep myself writing now that TPiaG's all through with the editing process, but I'm having a bit of a creative funk when it comes to generating with ideas. I've only managed to write a single Ark/Twig oneshot that features light angst towards the middle and end, but it's not really the focus of the fic, and I also have yet to upload it anywhere. It's still a bit nerve-wracking for me to post anything featuring an OC x Canon ship, hehe ^^;
If anyone has any scenes or anything they'd like to see written (or drawn--- comics are also a medium I work in, y'know), I'm all ears! Put 'em in the replies, reblogs, messages--- anything! I'd love to see what bonus scenes people would like to read :> Plus, it'd help circumvent my struggle to come up with what sorts of scenarios to stick the cast in!
#Y'all I'm begging you#I am foaming at the mouth with the need to write more PMD stuff#my hands are itching to tap away at a keyboard#my very soul is vibrating with readiness#and yet#this TRAITOROUS BRAIN of mine refuses to come up with any ideas#How rude of it >:(#If you have an idea and think it's dumb#you can still send it as an anonymous ask!!!!#I am begging you!!#do not starve me!!!#GIMME THE IDEAS. GIMME THEM.#sofie answers asks#pmd fanfic#pmd fanfiction#pmd fic
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before anyone gets any stupid ideas about how syril will get radicalized because he’s poor and whatever ahem what
no lmfao the people who generally get radicalized into fascism are usually NOT poor, they are often downwardly mobile middle class and petit bourgeois people who feel threatened by classes they perceive as lower than them. syril starting out as a cop is important because cops protect capital and the ownership class - the bourgeoisie, those who own the means of production and who make their income by profiting off of the labor of others. they are class traitors because they generally aren’t of the bourgeoisie but of the working class, they use their unions to marginalize others and protect themselves from accountability, and they brutalize working people in the name of capitalists whose property they protect.
and they make really great money for doing it.
look at syril’s mother’s home. that is not a poor woman’s home. that is not mon mothma’s old money coruscant penthouse either, but you can see that they are not poor. mama karn is solidly middle class - with family that seem to be business owners themselves btw - and has that conservative middle class mindset of kick the kids out when they turn 18, be shocked when they come back because people fuck up (even if syril’s fuck up is... ridiculous lmfao) and life is harder than it was for her generation, and if you don’t have “prospects” (aka are not actively upwardly mobile and working within a capitalism system to become an owner instead of a worker, which is something cops can do because their jobs pay fucking well, but is not easy and frankly for many people impossible) you’re a failure. but she’s not poor. the woman doesn’t seem to work. she’s at home. she’s financially secure... barring some crazy disaster like her cop son fucking around and finding out.
i need people to understand that just because times are harder for those of us who grew up with parents that are not poor, it doesn’t make US poor. we have someone to fall back on, a safety net - unless we are totally cut off from our families of course. it is not to say it is easy to be under or unemployed, or that times AREN’T hard for younger generations (of course they are). and instead of internalizing what older generations of (white) middle class/upper middle class let alone wealthy people have said for ages, we need to finally acknowledge that the system is not set up for any worker, and that there is no middle class - it is just working class and the class that owns the means of production. but “middle class” people are so susceptible to fascism because they have something to protect, and in a system that is based on a principle of fuck you got mine, you kick down, you don’t kick up. it’s easier to protect your assets from poor people - it’s nearly impossible to protect them from people with wealth and power. it’s the crabs in a bucket thing - while people are generally very good, when stressed we don’t always see the bigger picture. we tend to fight the easiest, nearest fight.
syril karn has a safety net, but i guarantee because he’s clearly got a complex and a half (capitalism does rot a brain and he doesn’t seem terribly smart to begin with) he’s entitled and offended by the idea that someone like cassian - an immigrant, an indigenous person, someone who refused to be bullied into submission, someone with “dark features” - someone who is of a lower class than him. who isn’t “civilized” like him or his mother.
he’s an easier target, a scapegoat.
i imagine there will be someone to “mentor” syril fully into fascism, maybe someone connected to his uncle if not his uncle himself because after all, petit bourgeois is pretty susceptible to fascism.
fascism is all about hierarchies. and so far the show has been scathing in its rebuke of imperialist, racist, classist hegemony.
#andor spoilers#star wars andor#meta#fascism#classism#marxist thought thanks karis ilu boo#syril karn#save your empathy for literally any other character on this show except maybe the imps lol#like even dedra and whats his face (the isb agents who are not white men lol) are girlboss bullshit but no doubt they've had to deal with#more shit than syril karn has lol#but also fuck them too#something something white women who uphold white supremacist capitalism in the name of girlbosses#also the show touching on colorism A+++++#idk man i just can't stop GUSHING
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Nothing but the Best
Author’s Notes: wow guys! Thank you so much for your support and for following this story! I never thought I would get so much acceptance so quickly! You are all incredible! ❤️
VIII.
“…he’s not in Japan, he’s gone to the Americas” Suguru arched his brow to Ijichi’s words about Satoru’s whereabouts “how come?” He asked “mission in New York, special grade curse in a school” Geto stopped on his tracks “New York?” He took off running to go get his phone without another word.
-
From: Suguru
To: Kitten
He’s in NYC! Get out of there!
-
You both agreed not to communicate through phone since Satoru for sure had his device monitored but this was an emergency.
It was 1pm in Japan which meant it would be around midnight back in New York.
“Fuck…” he didn’t have any time to lose, knowing Satoru, he had already found you. He had been there for about two days, plenty of time to locate Y/N.
Shit! He didn’t want Y/N to have to face Satoru alone. Well… so much for postponing his trip to New York.
“Shit!” Whispered getting in his car. He wasn’t about to let you handle Satoru on your own. Not that you couldn’t, oh no! Suguru was confident that if needed be you could hold your own just fine. But, you are his friend, someone who he loves. On the other hand, Suguru couldn’t just ignore what his own heart demanded. He didn’t want you to be alone anymore.
The past 6 months he had to stay behind just to keep Satoru from finding you but it was too late for that.
-
https://youtu.be/44mTGIotkWQ
youtube
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Each minute that passes feels like a lifetime… the clock falls off the wall…
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Defeated… that’s how Satoru felt now that he was finally able to face you. In his mind he pictured this encounter way different from this painful waltz of heartbreak.
He had been stupid to think you would jump in his arms, kiss him like there was no tomorrow and forgive him. He had been more like… delusional, thinking you would receive him with open arms (and legs) just because he showed up here.
Satoru thought you would see how hard he worked to find you, how much he suffered in your absence. He thought that would be enough to at least get a smidge of compassion from you.
Nothing was further from the truth…
You had always been a tough girl, stubborn, opinionated and bold. And fuck! He loved how you always made his blood boil with your passion! He could never get enough of you which is why he was so smitten.
But there was something different in you this time around… you had never been so… cold.
There was always a warmth that surrounded you at all times even when you were angry (specially then) a metaphorical and also a physical halo (not visible for non sorcerers) of luminescence that clung to your body enticing him and any cursed energy user to come closer. But now… standing here, before you. Watching you through his six eyes he saw that same halo much more opaque and cold. It was as if you had surrounded your heart with ice walls. A shiver ran down his spine.
What had he done to you!?
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Hold your breath… And pray for the world to end
Nothing's left… Some broken hearts will never mend.
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“Please… listen to me for 5 minutes and then I’ll leave you alone” (more like I’ll stalk you in silence and make you believe I left but I’m not gonna). Holding his hands in front of him as if trying to appease you, showing you he wasn’t hiding anything.
“You and I have nothing to talk about Gojo” your melodic voice was steady. Ouch… It hurt how you didn’t call him by his first name or any of the other cute and overly sweet nicknames you used for him; he haven’t heard you call him by his family name in about six years! No longer after you met you both were on a first name basis. He understood, it was a way of driving a wedge between the two of you, to distance yourself from him.
“There is nothing left for you and me to discuss… it’s over! Leave me alone” you stopped to take a breath trying to calm your heart.
“You know you technically are still a Gojo too… right? So it doesn’t make much sense that you call me by OUR name”. Yes, it was petty but he would be damned if he didn’t try and convince you to call him in a more familiar way.
She looked at him as if he was soft in the head for a moment “Sign the papers and forget I ever existed…” he had to cut you right there “NO! I refuse to forget about you Y/N! You are my wife! By law and by right you cannot just keep me away from you! I am not signing shit!” All those words tumbled from his lips faster than he expected. The rejection he felt for the idea of you never being with him again was making him lose his mind. You could not be serious! Could you? You couldn’t really be considering to move on… without him. (As if you hadn’t already done that).
“Just let me explain! Fuck!” running his hands through his hair in an exasperated gesture. “Please…” came a broken whisper, not a demand, but a request.
You straightened your back and folded your arms over your chest “you have 5 minutes and that’s it. At the end of that time I want you to leave and never come back!” Satoru nodded although he didn’t really agree to those terms but he thought if he continued to defy you it wouldn’t do him any favors to gain your forgiveness.
“I am sorry…” looking straight in your eyes started the handsome sorcerer, crestfallen and bleak “I know… I fucked up so bad… I know I hurt you. “ only words wouldn’t cut through the thick barrier you carefully crafted around yourself. You might as well be shielded by his infinity.
You looked at him with a mix of anger, pain and longing. You hated yourself so much for feeling your traitorous heart hammering away, getting lost in his crystalline eyes and deep voice. It wasn’t fair he held so much power over you.
“But I am fixing it Y/N… Sookie is not in my life anymore… I left her and haven’t been with her in a very long time, I don’t want anyone else but you…” assured the man desperately.
“How can you say that?!” You asked horrified “what kind of man are you that you would abandon your child!?”.
“He was not my son!…. Y/N. She cheated on me with someone else, the baby she carried was not mine. I confirmed that when the child was born…” admitted once more embarrassed about his stupidity.
Your expression was blank for the longest time, trying to process what Gojo had just said.
You blink a couple times, it’s almost as if he expected you to feel bad about his luck.
Fucking asshole! You knew he was trying to play the pity card with you but it wasn’t working.
“Well… I don’t care about your personal life, it’s none of my business” you reminded him. Satoru visibly flinched at the brutal retaliation. “let me finish! God damn! Y/N!” He felt like pulling out his hair.
“I know I fucked up so bad but please… please give me another chance… I will do whatever you say! Give you whatever you want just…. Don’t do this” he waited for an answer from you. He wanted to touch you and hold you in his arms, promise you he would take care of you and prove he was now worthy of your love.
“Goodbye Satoru…” you said turning around and getting ready to leave him standing there in the cold.
On instinct he warped in front of you and stopped you by wrapping his arms around your body, one went to your narrow waist and the other behind your neck pulling you to him.
Fuck it…. You already hated him, might as well give you a good reason.
He crushed his lips against yours in a passionate embrace. Your body froze in his arms and he took that opportunity to deepen the kiss, ever the opportunist he slipped his tongue between your lips and caressed yours, enticing you to taste him as much as he was tasting you.
It only took your brain a couple seconds to work but by then you were trapped. You tried to fight him, placing both your palms against his chest and pushing him away. Might as well have been pushing a fucking wall. Gojo fucking Satoru was the strongest living person for a good reason.
It felt like an anaconda embrace, the more you struggled the tighter he held you until you finally gave in yourself. A tear ran down your cheek by the time you started kissing him back. You both went from practically devouring each other, angrily fighting for dominance to sensually and tenderly exploring each other’s mouth with your tongues, little licks and nips until you separated. His forehead against yours, both of your breathing heavily.
Not a single word was exchanged. Both of you afraid to break the chasm of this frail truce.
—————
———> Chapter 9
@sleepyamaya
@cloudsinthecosmos
@jxvajxy
@satoruhooraaa
@my-reality-is-in-my-head
@dok-ja
@jscarlet06
@fiona782
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@syynnaaah
@shaylove418
@coldvillainess
@vampgguk
@sukuna1stwife
#jjk#jjkgojo#jjk satoru#jjk suguru#jjk anime#jjk fanfic#gojo angst#jujutsu kaisen gojo#jujustu kaisen#gojo x you#gojo saturo x reader#jujutsu geto#geto smut#jjk geto#geto x y/n#Youtube
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We need more anti C//A who are Adora stans (like you seem to be) so that people can understand that C///A is bad for Adora. Heck C//A is bad for Catra too, but the shippers don't seem to realize it. If Catra had been able to let Adora go maybe she could have healed instead of her festering and the abuse may have ended instead of escalated.
Hello Dear, welcome on my Blog and a big thank you for your message! Firstly I wanna apologize that this response is reaching you more than three full days, almost four later. Just real life getting into the way of my online presence (at least I got my A-Levels admission!) but I assure you that replying to you was on my To Do List the entire time. And while I could've typed something quick, I thought you deserved a full length response just as much as the person before you received. That goes for anyone really to ask/write me anything in the future.
Adora is a character that has flaws, her own interests, things she struggles with/is insecure about etc. but she also still works on being better (up to Season 5). This makes her relatable, fleshed out and overall three dimensional. Overall for me that makes Adora very likeable. Which is funny because when I first watched the show I thought of her as too goofy and felt like she as a character was overall just flat. Her character design did not speak to me either, the ponytail with the weird hair poof and these pointy shoulders of her jacket just really were not my taste. Isn't it amazing how perceptions can change?
As you can guess from that description I did not always stan Adora and she's probably still not my favorite character but over the almost two years I've been in this fandom I've grown rather fond of her. Other important characters to me are Kyle (a very relatable comfort character of mine, he learned to stand up for himself and others and I support that, f*ck Season 5 for barely acknowledging his existence), Lonnie (apart from treating Kyle badly (which I really do NOT support or excuse) I really love her, man, some women just do me like that, I mean she really stood up to Catra like that), Entrapta (I'm autistic too! It's great to have some representation, seeing the ableism/treatment she experiences in the show is not so much though), Seahawk (I don't even know why, I have some issues with his behavior towards Mermista at times but overall I love this dork), Scorpia (she reminds me of myself so much and I really wanna give her hugs, I'm so glad she chose to no longer let Catra treat her like that even though I will be forever salty she just immediately forgave her), Peekablue (I can explain this even less than Seahawk, especially since it was not even really him in the end but his existence somehow helped me cope with Season 5, without him I probably would've left this fandom ... and also my favorite color is blue) and Double Trouble (now there's enough people already critcizing how they're not exactly great Non-binary representation but this dramatic lizard will forever be in my heart, that reality check they gave Catra, basically slapping her in the face with facts was satisfying as h*ck, also I like lizards overall).
Now there's plenty of characters I like, dislike (or even hate) or am simply indifferent about but after all this is not a tier list but me talking about Adora, Catra and Catradora. Adora started off as this girl that was so sure what she was doing is right but once she was taught differently she was willing to leave everything she knew (except Catra, because she valued her despite everything) behind. And not only that, she broke out of the abuse cycle that Catra tried so hard to keep upright. And that is exactly what makes Adora such a good role model. She teaches children (or people) that:
Your past doesn't define what/who you are or what/who you can become
-> Adora used to be a Horde soldier and did not know where she came from, but nonetheless she found herself a family and became a hero that saved thousands of people
You can always change your mind and start a new life if you feel disappointed in what you are doing/who you are as a person
-> Basically the exact same point, Adora started a new life as she saw what the Horde really was and changed her mind about who to fight for
You deserve love too, be it platonic or romantic (or se*ual???) (If you're aro and/or ace just ignore the part that does not work for you)
-> While Adora for various reasons thought her only use was to please others and meet their needs and expectations (mostly due to Shadow Weaver and Catra) she learned to accept that she too deserves love and validation (if the love aspect would not have been focused on it being romantic love so she could smooch Catra in the finale this would've been a billion times better because she got love from her friends that showed her her real value)
You can walk away from something/someone, that does not make you egoistic/selfish
-> Adora walked away from the Horde, after Catra stubbornly refused to come with her despite many offers (basically Catra broke the promise, not Adora) from her too and that did not make her a "traitor" or "selfish", h*ck, Adora in the end did this for a bigger purpose too, even if part of it was her not wanting to live with such wrong morals
Your opinions, feelings etc. about a person/something can change and that is perfectly fine and valid, being able to change is part of what makes someone human
-> Adora's views on many things changed throughout the show: The Horde and the Rebellion, the First Ones, Catra, being She-Ra, herself, her priorities and so on ... she actually makes use of her brain, which is why Catra saying "Don't you ge it?" or calling her an idiot and dumb never sat right with me, she's a realistic character for shifting with her thoughts, feelings etc. and sometimes just does not fully think things through
You don't have to let other people treat you like sh*t (just because they have some issues they never worked through does not give them any right to let it out on you)
-> This point is obviously centered mostly around Catra and her abusing Adora almost every chance she gets, which is why Adora standing up for herself and not letting Catra blame her for her own decisions and mistakes is so important, "You made your choice, now live with it" is one of the most powerful lines throughout all the five Seasons
Now I'm sure there is still more to Adora's character than what I just listed and unfortunately almost all the points basically got pushed aside, well, Adora as a character got pushed aside in Season 5. All her growth, the things that made me love her, see her as great role model for so many people robbed of their value for the sake of making everything revolve around Catra. That brings me to her and how you are absolutely right that Catradora is harmful to both characters. Of course Adora is affected most by it in the end but Catra too is obviously suffering under the fandoms obsession and just the overall idea of them being romantically involved.
Just like with Adora the stans make almost everything about Catra over her relationship with Adora. She too can barely exist outside of it and if she wasn't the fan favorite she'd most likely would too be mostly in Fanarts that include Adora and not just her (if you google "Catra Fanart" most content is still Catra and Catra only but here and there Catradora still peaks through). But for whatever reason the fandom still views her more as her own person as the other ones? Catrouble and Scorptra Shippers might actually still get less hate than Glimmadora Shippers (I'm not denying they don't get any, they most certaintly do) which is just plain hypocricy and favorism. Kinda like the: A woman needs to be loyal to her husband and her husband only but if the husband wants to be active with other women that is perfectly fine because "that is just how men are" or how i like to call it ... sexism. Now in this case they are both women so it's not sexism but yo do get my point.
But much more importantly, Catra has an unhealthy obsession with Adora. Signs of that are for example:
Constantly talking about Adora, even when said person is not around (to Shadow Weaver, Scorpia etc.)
Obsessing over having control over Adora like in that one Episode "Are you kidding? I finally got control over Adora, I'm not giving that up!"
Building her entire character and her actions around Adora "We need to take Adora down", "Adora left me", "I'd rather see the whole world end than see you win!", also shown in Season 5 where she states she does save Glimmer only for Adora and not for Glimmer or to do the right thing
Getting aggressive or very emotional over Adora like clawing the wall, having nightmares etc. (destructive behavior towards herself and others)
Having no or barely any characteristics outside of her relationship with Adora like, we don't know her interests or likes and dislikes outside of being evil, obsessed with Adora, being abused by Shadow Weaver ...
Trying to force Adora to meet her needs and expectations regardless of Adora's owns
Sacrificing her oppurtunity to be happy in the Crimson Waste for the sake of her Adora obsession and being better than her at all costs
So yes, you were very right with saying that not putting Catra in a relationship with Adora would've benefited both characters. Catra could've learned to exist on her own, develop interests and a life outside of Adora. Learn to accept herself and eventually come to terms with her childhood abuse. She could've been free and not "the abusive cat girl that ended up with the person she unhealthily obsessed over to the point of no return" she kinda is now. Even if we ignore the whole "dating your long term abuser" part from Adora's side and "being rewarded" for horrible behavior, Catra alone is not giving a good example to people watching. As much as I dislike Catra, disdain her even, an ending where she is dependent on Adora, unable to stand on her own two legs after she led armies in war is not what I would wish for her, even with a decent redemption arc (that she did not get).
#anti catradora#anti c//a#anti catra#spop critical#response#my post#spop salt#ocd#role model#anti catra stans#anti catradora stans#comfort character#adora deserves better#honestly its worse once you know its not just bad for adora#anti+catra#anti+catradora
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“Please…I need you” for Ben/André
Of course! This is based off of and from the episode "Trial and Execution" (s3, ep. 10 in Turn: Washington's Spies.) and some of it my own imagination. I'm using a transcript of the episode to help me with this because I remember very clearly Andre and Tallmadge having a conversation in the carriage in the episode but I couldn't remember the exact words. If you'd like me to do a ficlet for your favorite amrev ship, send me a prompt with your ship and I'll try my best to make a ficlet of it!
***
Congress still refuses to pay me.
John Andre's coming here.
In exchange for 20,000 pounds, I shall transfer to you the plans for West Point.
Arnold's a traitor.
~~~
The accused, Nathan Hale, having been found guilty of espionage and treasonous conspiracy against His Majesty King George III, shall here by be executed as a spy on this day the 22nd of October, 1776. If the condemened has any last words. Let him speak now.
I only regret that I have but one life to lose for my country.
~~~
Major Benjamin Tallmadge shoots upright in his cot in his tent, his bright blue eyes wide and jaw slacked slightly. The bedsheets drape around his waist and he huffs and puffs as he sucks in gulps of air, blinking the dots he sees in his eyes. Still trying to catch his breath, Tallmadge clenches and unclenches his fists on the linen sheets as he glances around his surroundings. He begins to relax, his breathing much slower and calmer, as he realizes where he is. Tallmadge squeezes his eyes shut and bits his lip hard, hard enough for it to draw a small drop of blood. He swallows thickly and grimace as though a hand were clenching around his throat and it'd be difficult for him swallow. He lets out a shaky breath and blinks his eyes fast as he sits himself up agianst the pillows surrounding him. He feels his heart racing, fast as a lightning strike during a storm. He feels the hairs on the back of his neck tingle and his arms shake. His fingers twitches and he flops back down onto the pillows, his golden blonde hair untied from its standard tight braid.
He stares up ast the tent's ceiling, letting his arms drop and dangle on either side of his bed as he begins to be calm once more. His breathing now steady and his heart rate somewhat slowed, Tallmadge sits himself back up once more, running a hand through his hair as he lets an arm drape over his propped up knee.
It's quiet, Tallmadge thinks to himself. He frowns, swinging his legs around and grimacing when his feet touches the grass, still damp from the early morning's dew. He furrows his brows as he glances out at the small crack of the entranceway to his tent. Too quiet.
Tallmadge pushes himself up, straightens his bed and walks over to the wooden chair at the desk nearby where a couple of unfinished corrospondences are still laid upon the desk, his uniform draped over the back of the chair. Tallmadge huffs out a breath as he slips on his white shirt, adjusting the ruffled cuffs and buttons and tying his neck cloth and cravat rather quickly, his fingers fumbling over themseleves. He fixes his hair into a tight braid before slipping on his blue Continental coat.
Tallmadge gives himself a quick glance in the mirror and nods his head in approval once, his jaw clenched, before stepping out into the open, the flaps to the tent flapping behind him as he exits. He glances up at the sky, an overcast sky, and lets his eyes take a moment to adjust. Tallamdge jerks when he hears someone whistle, trying to get a horse's attention perhaps.
Tallmadge follows the noise until he sees General Washington and Colonel Alexander Hamilton along with the Marquis de Lafayette standing nearby. Tallmadge walks up to them, his back straight when he locks eyes with the General.
"Ah, Major Tallmadge," the General says, his voice gruff and smooth. Deep and raw at the same time. "Morning."
Tallmadge nods and bows respectfully before standing up straight again. "Morning, Your Excellency, sir."
"You do remember what occurs today, correct?" the General asks, quirking an eyebrow at Tallmadge expectedly.
Tallmadge grimaces and nods, swallowing hard as he remembers Hale. He licks his lips and grips his hands behind his back. "Yes, sir."
"We shall see you there," the General says.
Tallmadge nods again but doesn't reply as he watches the trio turn swiftly, their cloaks flapping along against the back of their legs as they disappear around the corner. Tallmadge closes his eyes and lets out a shaky breath.
Oh, Nathan...
Is the last thing he thinks.
~~~
"Major Tallmadge," a smooth, elegant and rather light British voice says suddenly nearby as Tallmadge now stands next to a carriage, waiting. He ticks his eyes towards a man, a young man who happens to be in his late twenties to early thirties with smooth, combed back dark brown hair pulled into a tight ponytail, a braid behind his ear. A rounded chin and hooked nose, a thin smile and laugh lines on his cheeks. His uniform is clearly distinct, as it is a bright red indiciating his loyalty to the British. He smiles and nods once as he approaches Tallamdge. "Allow me to say that it is an honor to properly meet your aquaitance."
Tallmadge frowns, his brows furrowed as he presses his lips together. He swallows again and keeping his eyes trained on Andre with his jaw clenched, he forces a smile to appear and nods in greeting. Tallmadge steps aside as he watches Andre climb up the steps into the carriage and sits himself down. Tallmadge follows and watches a servant closes the door before walking around them. Tallmadge turns to face Andre once more. Andre grins as he pulls out a crumbled paper and charcoal and begins to sketch a rough line in what Tallmadge must think is the beginning of the subject's eye.
"Did you study portraiture back in Europe?" Tallmadge asks.
Andre ticks his eyes up from the paper and smiles thinly. "I did."
Tallmadge watches as he begins to sketch out the right eye. He bites the inside of his cheek, wondering what to say now.
"I wonder if you might indulge in my curiosity" Andre says suddenly, breaking the silence as the carriage begins to move. "Do you remember when you first heard my name?"
"Oh, I remember it well," Tallmadge says, keeping his eyes on the paper, watching the pieces come together. "It was a brisk Thursday, January, '77. Mr. Nathaniel Sackett, a friend of mine, he was telling me how he had managed to place a man within your inner circle posing as a Coldstream Guard.” He grits his teeth and curls his fists in his lap. “That man was later killed by a knife, as was Mr. Sackett.”
Andre pauses his work and presses his lips together before glancing up at Tallmadge. “I would like you to accept my apology for Mr. Sackett. My orders for Lietuenant Gamble were to avoid violence at all costs.”
Tallmadge eyes Andre before nodding once. “I accept.”
A pause.
“Though, I will not apologize for the punishment Lietuenant Gamble recieved of any kind,” Andre says. “Gamble knew well the risk of our particular business.”
“I suppose Sackett knew the risks as well,” Tallmadge says. I must say that he was quite impressed with the ruse that you concocted with Sutherland and Shanks.” A pause. Tallmadge scoffs mixed with a laugh. “ A master stroke, he would have called it.”
Andre hums, dotting something onto the paper. “Hardly.”
Tallmadge swallows, watching the man across from him. He bites his lip, seeing the twinkle in the dark brown irises, the sharp cut of his jaw, the braid behind his ear, the thinness of his lips, a blush pink. Tallmadge clears his throat, blinking his eyes.
“I sometimes wonder if Sackett would have seen right through Benedict Arnold,” Tallmadge says, attempting conversation once more.
Andre frowns and clenches onto the charocal. “Arnold was a faliure.” He looks up. “Culper is the master stroke. Seeing as I’m about to take a vow of enternal silence, who was the Culper contact in New York City?”
Tallmadge narrows his eyes, clenching his fist and jaw and glances out the window, blinking his eyes. The vision of Hale before him, his Hale, his dear Hale, flashes right in front of his eyes before he could stop himself. He clearly sees the flaxen blonde hair, almost white, a glimspe of icy, cold blue eyes, the rough feel of pale skin against his. Tallamdge shakes his head befoer turning back to Andre, who has an eyebrow raised mostly out of concern.
“I had...had a classmate in Yale College,” Tallmadge says, “by the name of Nathan Hale. I followed him into the army of ‘76. He was tracked and caught by Robert Rogers and...” Tallmadge lets out a shuddering breath and lifts a shoulder. “Subsequently hanged as a spy...”
“And do you think his case and mine are alike?” Andre wonders.
Tallmadge’s expression is blank, passive. “He did his duty for his country. You did yours for your king.”
“Then I want you to know I see honor in both.”
“Then you are mistaken.”
Andre sighs and glances out the window, staring at his reflection as he watches the trees blur together as they roll by before glancing back down at the paper and smiles softly before glancing up at Tallmadge. “I didn’t do it for the king. I did it for a woman. That is the loss I regret more so than my own life.”
Tallmadge doesn’t reply. He watches Andre fold the paper up and stuff it into his pocket along with the piece of charocal. He smiles thinly, a warm smily as an idea clicks into his brain. Andre reaches behind towards his braid behind his ear and grabs hold of the end of it. He pulls out a pocket knife and chops off a small piece before tucking the knife back into his pocket and grabbing Tallmadge’s wrist and placing the small piece of braided hair into his palm. He stares at it in shock and confusion before glancing back up at Andre.
But Andre only smiles and glances out the window.
~~~
Major John Andre climbs out of the carriage first once they have arrived at their destination, followed by Tallmadge himself. A servant slams the door shut. Tallmadge checks the ropes binding Andre's wrists in front of him before guiding him towards the tree where his fate lies. Tallmadge tenses as he appraoches slowly, swallowing the bile he feels rising up down his throat. He breathes shakily in and out as they march closer with each passing second, keeping his head up, back straight, shoulders sqaured, eyes narrowed and determined.
Andre turns to Tallmadge when they stop. Discreetly, Tallmadge clutches onto the braid in his palm. He can't seem to make his arm stop shaking. He swallows, licks his lips and turns to Andre. Andre nods reassuringly, a small smile on his face as climbs up the steps under the tree.
Tallmadge steps back between the Marquis de Lafayette and Colonel Hamilton. Hamilton glances at him worriedly for a quick second, which causes Tallmadge to clench his jaw and breathe in slowly, holding his breath as he tightens his grip in his palm. He wants to close his eyes, not watch as he Hale in Andre's place. But he remains strong and keeps his eyes trained, locked on Andre's.
Andre is given a white blindfold and he takes it. He stares at it for a breif moment, before ticking his eyes back with Tallmadge's. Tallmadge stiffens when he sees Andre giving him a small smile and a nod. He thinks he hears, "It'll be but a momentary pang."
That doesn't settle Tallmadge's nerves and fears. He presses his lips together, stands taller than before which causes the Marquis and Hamilton to excahnge concerned and confused looks breifly before returning to attention. Tallmadge tightens his grip on the braid still in his palm, helplessly watches Andre wrap the blindfold around his eyes. Tallmadge breathes in once again, holds his breath, and squeezes his eyes shut.
Please...I need you... he suddenly thinks.
"If the condemened has any last words," a rough voice declares. "Let him speak now."
Tallmadge squeezes his eyes harder, tightens his grip tighter and bites his lip hard enough for it to draw blood. His arms tremble, his fingers tingle against his skin from how tight his grip has been, he hears ringing in ears. He sees Hale before him instead of Andre, those piercing, icy, cold blue eyes, that pale skin, that light-blonde hair--almost white.
"I pray that you all bare me witness that I may bare my fate like a brave man."
There's a deafening crack and Tallmadge whimpers, breathing sharply in and out, trying to control his racing heart as he blinks his eyes open only to find that the world is smeared before him. He hears a voice calling his name, a French accented voice, the Marquis, out of worry and concern.
Tallmadge doesn't hear him, can't hear him due to the ringing in his ears. He unfolds his palm, his hand shakes, as he stares at the braid in his palm. He clenches his fist and glances over his shoulder where Andre was alive not but a moment ago.
Please... Tallmadge thinks, swallowing the lump down.
I need you...
#asks#anon#ask liz#THIS TOOK ME FOREVER#i feel so accomplished-#whew#look at me going to bed at 9:45!#ficlet#requested#oneshot#prompts#writing prompts#amrev#read more#long post#turn: washington's spies#benjamin tallmadge#major john andre#alexander hamilton#marquis de lafayette#im so exhausted#bedtime now#little bit of halemadge
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Tibi's MCYT WritingTober, day 22
It's that time of the day/night again my dears! I'm coming to you with a new fill for @the-only-gamer-gost 's list of prompts!
Today is "In the Mines"! This spawned from a very awful really not good thought @whatimevendoinhere had when we still thought we were going to get a dad!Schlatt au. Rip to that.
But still!! I really do hope you enjoy! <3
Fundy is not exactly fond of being woken up at the crack of dawn, especially if it is to spend the rest of his day working on a bloody underground pathway.
But when Schlatt comes knocking at his door with a self assured smile, twin axes and a plan, there’s not much he can do.
Fundy’s not sure that the path Tubbo has made is completely for them - he’s got a bad feeling about it - but he’s not going to question the kid’s loyalty. They don’t need to start looking for traitors and liars and spies among Schlatt’s personal circle, it would only lead to either bad discoveries or lower the morale intensely - neither are things Fundy wants.
But he can take a morning of chopping down trees, if it means chatting aimlessly with his president. The man can hold a conversation, sue him.
It has nothing to do with not-so-recent changes of heart.
It takes them a bit, but after getting about a stack of wood combined, they move into the tunnels. From there, it’s easy to fall back into the rhythm of placing down the blocks to complete the path, make it a bit larger than a single square, so that nobody’s at risk of slipping and falling.
The part of Fundy that can appreciate nice things wants to take down the outer layer of stone, cobble and various ores that create a sort of plain and ugly looking sight. It could be improved with some stone bricks, maybe some smooth diorite; even the path itself is just monocolor wood slabs, it could do with some different shades!
But to be quite honest, Fundy’s a bit scared of what he could find if he took away even a single block. Who knows how many diverging paths are born from this main one.
His suspicions get even worse when, halfway through the afternoon, they run into Wilbur, who seems to be just passing by - coming from where? going where? just how dangerous for Manburg is this path?
Still, they have to make good with what they have, so Fundy lowers his axe, wipes sweat from his forehead, and nods towards the other man.
“Hello, Wilbur. What brings you here?” Wilbur shrugs, eyes moving slowly as he takes in the sight in front of him - Fundy’s not going to acknowledge the slight envy in his stare, he is not.
Schlatt stands up straight on his left, from where he’d been crouched down trying to grab a slab of wood that had fallen off the path.
“Nothing much, just taking a stroll. Seeing the sights.”
Schlatt snorts out a laugh, gesturing to the stone walls.
“You mean this shit? I mean, don’t get me wrong, Tubbo’s made an incredible job, such a brilliant idea, but. This isn’t much of a sight. Now, Fundy here, I bet he’d be able to make something pretty out of this!” Schlatt exclaims, giving him a small tap with his elbow, and Wilbur on the other side of them suddenly looks livid.
Looks like Fundy’s eliminating himself out of the conversation earlier than expected.
“Don’t sell Tubbo so short, he’s capable of doing very great things! His house used to be very pretty.”
“Well, yeah, before it got burnt down! You know what’s not getting burnt down, ever? Fundy’s flag. What a brilliant idea! He is so smart, really. And talented too, he came up with the flag all on his own!”
“Stop.” Fundy tries, despite having his back turned to the rest of the group, as he feels his ears starting to burn. He’s not good with compliments, alright?
“He- he still has much to learn.” Despite the different sort of burning this comment evokes, Fundy keeps on working on the path - maybe if he ignores the whole situation, they’ll just stop.
“Wh- He can run circles around me and you, Wilbur, come on!”
“Please stop.” Now he turns, feeling his whole face burn, and he’s met with an array of mixed feelings stamped on Wilbur’s face and the back of Schlatt’s head. His president immediately turns, looking elated despite his raised finger and stern expression.
“I will not! You’re very smart, and have brilliant ideas!”
“Oh my god-” Fundy cannot cope with all of this, so all his brain can help him with is raising his hands towards his face in an attempt of hiding his embarrassment.
“And I trust you with my life!”
“Oh my god, dad, can you stop?!”
Silence, blessed silence, falls in the tunnels.
Fundy turns back to his work, finally satisfied, and completely misses the aftermath of his statement.
“Fundy-” Schlatt’s voice starts, sounding extremely amused - and slightly awed, which is disturbing, worrying and never a good sign.
“I swear to god if you start with the nice things again.” Fundy turns, but the man has his hands in front of him in a placating gesture.
“No, no, no more nice things for now I promise. But Fundy- Fundy do you see me as a father figure?”
Fundy’s mind draws a blank. He blinks.
“Excuse me?! What- How- Why?!”
“Fundy you just called him “dad”.” Wilbur adds - and oh, wow, Wilbur looks sick, pale as a ghost, eyes wet like he’s about to cry, holy shit. But he’s not making any sense.
“No I did not.” Fundy answers, just the slight edge of panic making it into his voice because what if- but no. He did not just do that. He did not.
“But actually, you did.” Schlatt answers, the grin on his face widening and - nope. He is not doing that. Fundy refuses to deal with that at the moment. Possibly forever.
“I’m done. Keep the extra wood, I am leaving.”
And then he leaves. Walking. Not running. Not hoping nobody follows him.
Not wishing the tunnel would open up under his feet and swallow him.
Is it too late to go and live as a hermit?
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Take of Epitheus
So this is the second half of my most recent piece. Context for reader’s relations and abilities were stated here- you can read the pieces separately (but I’d appreciate if you read them together UwU)
Prompt chosen was: Happy ending because a happy ending for us would have just been if our faves could LIVE
Triggers: mention of death, caring and rehabilitation of extreme bodily trauma (I guess you could put that under gore?) dark yet hopeful
@giogio-gucci-gangstar @risottoneroo @lasquadraweek2020 @junosartsthetic
2,5K words, gender neutral reader- good luck
“Will you please stop being a crybaby and let me take off the bandages already?”
You were busy finicking with Formaggio’s bandaged chest- the burns he had gotten over most of his body needed intensive care but he whined about it every step of the way.
“Hey hey! Come on, be gentle with me!”
Your gaze shot up to meet his cringing face. “I AM GENTLE!”
You moved quicker- opting to rip off the stained gauze from the burn ointment that peeled off the burnt skin with a sticky squelch.
“Would you rather have Melone do it?” You grumbled, more to yourself but he grabbed your wrist.
“No! Please no, you at least listen when I whine- he just ignores me.” In his eyes you could actually imagine seeing some form of desperate pleading so you sighed, continuing to gently remove the rest of the gauze.
“Can I put the air conditioning on for you while I prepare the soak?”
He looked so ashamed of himself as he nodded, you couldn’t help but feel a scrap of sympathy for him.
Now that everything was over with the Boss’s take down, you were left having to rehabilitate your team back to functioning people. Your stand could only heal so much- mostly keeping their souls attached to their bodies- but the physical healing you had to do yourself.
Formaggio could at least stand up and lead himself to the bath you had prepared for him but some of the others weren’t so lucky. Prosciutto took a particularly bitter hit at his pride with his busted right leg which you had no choice but to amputate so getting him clean was a particularly tense event you deeply dreaded.
You advised Formaggio to take his time in the bathroom as you changed the bedsheets but you knew he had limited mobility so you’d need to help him with his back.
Pesci wasn’t so lucky...he was in literal pieces, Illuso was still in the hospital you dumped him in while Melone was doing the research to find the cure for the disease still ravaging his system. Melone got off pretty well- you had recognized the snake that bit him and got him on anti-venom within a few minutes so he was back on his feet in a week- albeit a bit mute. Ghiacchio was holding on for dear life- you had replaced his windpipe but you’d be lucky if he wasn’t paralyzed from the neck down. Risotto was luckily just a few gunshot wounds heavier but they weren’t the only ones you had chained back to their bodies.
You slid down on the edge of the bath beside Formaggio to run some of the water over his back. His shoulders slumped. You understood why- they were all like this. They felt defeated- by their own sudden inability and you couldn’t reassure them that they were lucky enough to be alive, figuring you’d personally rather be dead than hanging on for dear life.
“You can help yourself right?”
He could only nod.
You got up and let him help himself, wrapping him back up in bandages and gauze before wrapping up the laundry and taking out the food from the freezer to thaw for his dinner. “Call me when you need me.”
Outside Formaggio’s apartment you popped the trunk of your car and tossed the second batch of laundry into the trunk. A few cars behind your own, another car door opened and out stepped a dirty blonde in a red suit.
You narrowed your eyes at him as he approached, suddenly noticing how young he was.
“What do you want, kid?”
You called back as he approached. The second he took a step too close to your liking you gave one back. “That’s close enough. What do you want?”
“You’re La Squadra’s healer, aren’t you?”
“What about it?”
“You saved some of my friends a few days ago.”
You couldn’t help but lift an eyebrow. “You worked under Bucciarati?”
“Yes- I do. Or rather, used to. Listen, I’ve been tracking you and this is the third time you’ve come here this week... what are you doing?”
You racked your brain for a second. Part of your stand’s ability- working with the chain that links soul to body allowed you to see some memories people held near the end of their lives.
The kid wrapped in flowers at the coliseum... that’s where you’ve seen his face before.
“Panacotta Fugo?” You guessed from the names you’d heard in the kid’s soul.
His eyes widened a bit. “Yes, how did you-“
“The kid I saved at the coliseum... you were in his memories. Could’ve sworn you were nowhere to be seen, though.”
At this point you were playing mind games with Fugo, you didn’t need more complications to your life.
“I’m trying to help you. You probably know Giorno-“
“That blonde kid that healed Abbachio.” Of course you were referencing the other man you had found on the beach after you helped Risotto.
“Yes, I‘ve come to understand that you’ve been working around the clock to heal your teammates. You can keep people alive but not heal them.” He seemed to be a bit annoyed by finding a new way to approach the subject he wanted to talk about without you changing the subject.
You leaned against the back door of your car. “Then you’ve also figured out why I didn’t come running to the new Don to heal my teammates.”
You refused to continue giving this kid more information so you popped the driver seat door open.
“Bucciarati owes you, as does Abbacchio, and Narancia. Surely that’s enough leverage for you to gain something out of the situation.” He said simply, trying to get closer which you answered with another step back.
You pondered the idea- thinking out loud. “Three wishes from the Don’s inner circle but nothing from the Don himself. Hmmmm.” You tapped your fingers against the roof of the car. “Still can’t figure out why YOU came to deliver this news.”
Fugo seemed to curl in on himself, casting his gaze down at the pavement beside him. “I’m grateful for you saving them when I was too much of a coward to even join them on their crusade. If it weren’t for you, half of them would be dead.”
“Hm. And what insurance do I have that this isn’t some kind of trap?”
Fugo’s gaze shot back up with shock in his eyes. “A trap? Why would you think this was a trap?”
You shrugged. “A traitorous group of skilled assassins? You’d be missing on a grand opportunity to weed out any dangers for the new Don.”
The realization dawned on Fugo’s face- it was clearly not something he had considered.
“Tell Bucciarati that I’ll be at Libechio’s tomorrow at noon for half an hour. I’ll bite from him.”
And with that you stepped into your car and left. You came to a final stop at Risotto’s apartment- trying to get the stubborn bastard to rest instead of trying to walk on his janky leg.
“You seem less patient.” He grumbled as you eventually plopped down on the couch with a groan.
“Yeah, I’m chewing through my own problems.”
He slid down in the seat across the living room from you. “Which would be...?”
“One of Bucciarati’s old underlings came to me- promising some shit about helping me.”
Risotto’s eyebrow shot up. “Help you with what?”
“Taking care of you guys, Ris. I can only heal you so much but the Don can actually fix you.”
“Why would he offer the help?”
You sighed- forgetting that you hadn’t told any of them about what you did after you got Risotto to safety.
“Because I offered mine. There’s three of them that got a new lease of life because of me.”
Risotto seemed to digest your words behind his curled up fist, propped up on his lap.
“I’m not stupid, Ris. I know how dangerous it is. So I figured I’ll talk to the ones that owe me, personally.”
He lifted his head a bit, frowning up at you. “And what would you ask the three of them?”
“Heal you guys fully, of course.”
“But three of them are indebted to you.”
It took you a moment to click what he was getting at.
“You’re implying I ask for three things.”
“You can finally leave the mafia.”
The words hit you like a ton of bricks. Was it really how far you’d come? Had you come full circle? Was it time for you to finally do what you’ve been dying to for years?
You’d soon find out as you sat down at your table at Libechio’s with a hot plate of food- a commodity you’d been refusing yourself since Formaggio got burnt.
You’d just finished when Bucciarati walked in, unaccompanied for once.
“You look good for someone who used to be half dead.” You commented as you slid back in your seat, leaning one arm over the backrest with a cup of coffee in your other hand.
“I have you to thank for that.” He smiled warmly, sliding into the seat across from you.
You swirled your coffee in your cup, trying to get the sweetener at the bottom to dissolve into the black liquid.
“You were a weird case- it’s not often the chain gets broken and someone latches themselves back on.”
Bucciarati laughed, folding his hands over each other on the table. “You make it sound like you helped me out of curiosity.”
“You think I did it out of kindness?”
He tipped his head to one side, as if he was trying to understand you. “Why else would you?”
Ah, the billion lire question. You didn’t know why you ran down the beach to grab hold onto Abbachio’s soul until his team mates came over. You didn’t know why your first reaction to Narancia’s soul floating out of his body was to grab hold and wait until it could return to its body. You didn’t know why you desperately begged Bucciarati to zip his soul back together. But it didn’t change the fact that you did and it was Diavolo’s who was sent into oblivion.
It couldn’t possibly have been because you were a good person. Were you banking on having these debts paid out? You certainly weren’t thinking it at the time.
“I don’t know, in all honesty. Suppose it doesn’t matter now, does it?”
Bucciarati’s tea arrived a few moments later and as he was adding the sugar he came forward with the reason for your meeting.
“As far as you probably know, my team and I are indebted to you but you are, understandably, mistrustful about the olive branch offered to you.”
You scoffed. “That’s an understatement, however I’ve come to offer collateral for our dealings.”
Bucciarati seemed to freeze in place, his teacup halfway to his mouth as you leaned in.
“And what would that be?”
“Simply reverting you back to your previous state. It’s as simple as that.”
Bruno placed his teacup back into its saucer with a serious look on his face. “May I ask you a question, y/n?”
You leaned forward with your arm on the table. “Of course.”
“What is it that you’ll be asking of us?”
You took a steady breath. You were unsure if you were going to indulge in this but it was do or die at this stage.
“For Abbachio’s life, I want my team healed completely- all damage inflicted on them needs to be reverted. I know what Giorno’s stand is capable of and I know he can heal them- even restore limbs as far as my understanding goes.”
Bruno only nodded. “Understood.”
“Second...” the words got caught in your throat but with a shaky determination you uttered the words. “I want to disappear. I want nothing to do with this gang, ever again. My existence, as far as any of you are concerned, is unknown.”
With a slight reluctance he nodded. “And your last request?”
“My team get the last request to do whatever they want. Weather that be to earn the Don’s loyalty or chicken out like me, the decision is theirs. And I expect you to respect it.”
Bruno met your gaze head on, before giving a heavy sigh. “Your requests seem fair. But you’ll have to ask Giorno yourself.”
You left Libechio with Bruno, sitting down in the back seat as Fugo drove you there- his eyes glancing up at the rear view mirror to yours every now and again.
“How old are you, Fugo?” You eventually asked. You could tell he was young but if he had just been on verging on 21 or 22, you weren’t sure.
“17.”
Your jaw dropped a bit at that formation. “Ah, life’s done you dirty you and you, Bruno?”
“Turning 21 in a few months.”
“Fuck. You’re infants.” You huffed as you leaned your elbow against the door.
“You’re not that much older than us.”
You couldn’t help but throw your head back and laugh. “I passed 20 a long time ago. Back when things were much simpler.”
For a moment you rode in silence until you sat up and spoke to car as a whole. “Simply speaking as a coward and an unwilling participant in this bullshit, lemme ask- don’t you wish you were normal?”
You never did get an answer, not even a glance in the mirror from Fugo...
You didn’t say anything as you arrived at the villa, tiredly hauling yourself out of the car and following Bruno through the expansive hallways. You’d seen Giorno before- you knew he was young so you figured he and Fugo were the same age, or at least so you hoped- oh the team’s going to pop their stitches at hearing their ages.
You walked past Mista, the gunslinger that helped take down Ghiacchio, so you stopped in your tracks, turned to him and surveyed his face. “So that’s what you look like up close.”
Mista shrugged with a slight smile- was that... dare you say... personality?
He was about to open his mouth to say something to you but the baritone voice of Abbachio had you turning around to find him approaching you from a different hallway. “You know I never did catch your name.”
When you had held onto Abbachio’s soul on the beach, you had sensed some struggle within him- you recognized his story, understood what he was going through... but for men like him, coming back from the dead had two possible effects- either anger for refusing them the relief of death... or peace and clarity.
“You don’t need it. How’s life?” You smirked at him. He gestured for Mista to leave- which he did with a roll of his eyes so you and Leone were standing in the hallway alone.
“I wanted to ask you something... when I was dead, I saw things, people I’m pretty sure I would only have seen in the afterlife...”
“They’re real and chances were you were in the limbo between living and dead for the duration of the experience but I pulled you back.”
He glanced to the side, as if he was considering your words for a moment before nodding down the far end of the hallway where Bruno was standing, waiting for you. “He’s waiting.”
He spun around on his heel and walked away.
“Your friend really did forgive you, Abbachio. If you weren’t meant to come back I wouldn’t have been able to bring you back.” Was all you called back at him.
You walked past Bruno into the room Giorno was waiting, the door shutting behind you to leave you alone with the new Don, a bit on edge until his face emerged from the seat he was sitting in and you couldn’t help but feel relieved.
“So you’re the one I have to thank for my team’s survival.” He attempted to start the conversation.
You reached into your back pocket for your cigarettes and when you turned back to face him, his stand was at the ready.
“My my, no need to be on guard. I wasn’t part of the traitors.”
You brought a filter to your lips and walked towards the balcony, lighting the end without a word. “I’m guessing you’ve been briefed on my wishes?”
“I have- and I can agree to all of them.” He said as Golden Experienced de-materialized.
You hummed in content. Simply waiting for the ‘but’- it never came.
“No exceptions?”
“No, your requests are understandable and manageable. It’s you and your team’s motivations I wanted to know more on.”
You leaned against the balustrade of the balcony, tipping your head back to look up at the orange sky, painted by the setting sun.
“You mean why they were after Trish and Diavolo?”
“Yes.”
You picked your head up and took a drag from the cigarette between your fingers, letting the smoke dribble from your mouth.
“They wanted Trish to gain access to Diavolo. I wouldn’t have let them lay a hand on her. As for that bastard Diavolo, I suppose it was the shitty pay and the fact that they killed my brother and his husb-“ you forgot the marriage certificate was forged. “His lover.” You corrected yourself.
“So why wouldn’t you join in against the coop?”
You took another drag, hoping you could dull your own senses enough to not care about the words that came out of your mouth.
“I didn’t want to die. A stupid sentiment for a hitman but I felt like I can give still do good.”
“Then how did you end up in the gang in the first place?”
“My stupid, very dead brother. Whose killer you so graciously tossed into a garbage truck.”
Giorno actually laughed quietly at that, folding his arms over his chest as he joined you beside the balustrade.
“What did you do before it all?”
“I was a forensic pathologist, though I apprenticed as a mortician for many years.”
He nodded, gazing up at the sky with you.
“I admit, you’d have been a good addition to my own team but I understand your reasons for wanting to leave. There’s just one thing I ask of you- since it seems your stand can trace some things deep within a person’s soul...”
You didn’t completely think it’s fair, your part of the bargain was already done so you suppose you agreed on the terms simple because you were curious yourself... “What do you want to know?”
“I want to know the identity of my real father.”
#la squadra#risotto nero#jojo's bizarre adventure#jojo no kimyou na bouken#lasquadraweek2020#jojo part 5#jojo golden wind#formaggio#bruno bucciarati#panacotta fugo#giorno giovanna
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1, 2, 4, 10, 20!!
Tell us about your current project(s) – what’s it about, how’s progress, what do you love most about it?
Oh boy so I’m sure I must have mentioned it at some point but I won’t turn down a chance to ramble about it again: me and @regalpotato are working on a Day of the Doctor rewrite and I’m pretty psyched about it! Basically, Eight is there rather than War (although War does make an appearance!) and also River is there, because Duh, and there are other Things going on that are different from the episode/novel, but that’s spoilers and also still partially cooking in my brain, lol. It’s at 11k-ish right now but still pretty early in the story, too early to probably say what I will love most. But I’m having a ton of fun with it, especially the dialogue, and currently torturing Ten in every way I can think of. You know, lovingly torturing. For the most part.
That is the really big thing I’m excited about, but I do still have two prompts left from a couple weeks back (I didn’t forget you, anons!) and those are milling around in my head too waiting for inspiration to strike.
2. Tell us about what you’re most looking forward to writing – in your current project, or a future project
No secret that I love writing multi-Doctor / River stories, and in fact having somewhat recently finished an 8 and 11 / River fic I will have to be on my toes to not repeat myself too much haha. But I just love getting everyone together and letting them yell at each other for a while - the best honestly - and then later we get Revealing Conversations about Feelings, as well as POV changing chapters. Not to overhype it but! I think it’s gonna be fun!
Putting the rest under a cut because I am long-winded lol.
4. Share a sentence or paragraph from your writing that you’re really proud of (explain why, if you like)
Hmmm I’ll pick something I like from the WIP that’s all my writing - this is from Night of the Doctor with Eight and Ohila, but it’s diverged from the original script here and iirc pretty much all new dialogue for Eight. I don’t normally write this sort of Doctor speech because I’m usually doing romance, but I can hear Paul McGann righteously shouting/soliloquizing in my head so I’m pretty happy with it:
***
“What would you have me do?” the Doctor hissed. “What does your broken prophecy foretell? That I become one more loyal soldier in Gallifrey’s glorious army? I can join this fight and take a thousand lives, die a thousand deaths, and this war will still go on. The universe doesn’t need another soldier!”
“Not a soldier,” said the Sister, “a warrior, with the power you’ve refused to wield. You could have destroyed the Daleks before they were even created.”
“Yes, I could have done. And I didn’t, because I have no right! Whatever it is you think you can turn me into, Sister, you’ll continue to be disappointed. Because there’s one person who is always needed in a war: a good doctor, willing to help whomever they can. No matter if they’re despised, or called traitor— no matter who they lose or how many times they fail! There will always be more lives to save, and I’ll be there, helping, wherever I can. I only hope I’m strong enough to carry on doing it half as well as another doctor I knew.”
***
(Yes of course we have Liv Chenka references!)
10. How would you describe your writing process?
It takes me forever to get ideas, but once I have a sort of general amorphous direction for the story and an emotional starting point for the characters, I just jump in. And then I keep getting shower thoughts about more and more stuff happening and what was supposed to just be some fun fluff starts growing a plot and getting wildly out of hand and this is just my life. I am very much not in control.
20. Tell us the meta about your writing that you really want to ramble to people about (symbolism you’ve included, character or relationship development that you love, hidden references, callbacks or clues for future scenes?)
Ohhhh this is such a good question! Definitely going with There is a love I reminisce because there’s a lot going on under the surface in that fic and not all of it stated super explicitly. So um, huge spoilers below if you haven’t read it!
Manhattan and Trenzalore (both times) are essentially retconned, through a combination of River’s innate abilities and Eleven going around the timeline trying to do better after being confronted with his shortcomings in TNOTD. How the Doctor survived Utah is explained and it’s not because he was in a stupid robot. It spawns an implied post-Library reunion with River, Eleven and the Doctor’s oft-referenced and never quantified or named children from Gallifrey. It implies a different resolution to the Hybrid thing and an alternate series 10. And of course it uses BF’s far-superior Ravenous 4 plot twist to preemptively annihilate the timeless children crap, and a combination of Ravenous 4 and Doom Coalition 4 to make River basically a time goddess. But maybe my favorite thing was giving life to this headcanon of mine. IT CANNOT BE REFUTED! They’ve never said ANYTHING specific about his family so it’s free real estate baby!
***
“Yes, sorry to harp on about this, honey, but I think we can discuss the regeneration semantics later,” River cut in. “You’re saying I came back from your future to your distant past and just… stayed?”
“Well… yes, I think so. There were certain things we couldn’t discuss. I had always just assumed that I’d reached the end of my last regeneration and you weren’t too pleased with that, so… You know, describing it now, it does seem very irresponsible. But I don’t recall having any complaints.”
“No, I shouldn’t think you would.” River smiled, but her mind was racing. “How would that even work? Eventually, we’d come back round to when we first met on your end, and what, I wipe myself out of your memories? Selectively, for your entire lifetime? I think you might notice a little thing like that.”
“I suppose you must have had a plan for it, but I can’t remember it now. I just remember the two of us, together through the centuries.” He smiled fondly and River felt like the ache in her chest would strangle her. “I remember our family.”
“Our what?” she cried, as the older Doctor had a sudden choking fit.
“Our family. Our children and…” Dread slowly dawned on the young Doctor’s sweet face. “Oh, please, no,” he whispered. “Don’t tell me they’re… No, this happened! It happened in both versions of my memories!” He looked to his older self, panic-stricken. “Tell me you remember!”
“You had a family,” River soothed, as Babyface stumbled over his own tongue. “It just wasn’t with me.”
“What?” he laughed incredulously. “Who else would it be?”
“Your first wife, sweetie. I’m your second. Well, the second one that counts.”
“No, that’s— I’m sorry, that’s nonsense.” He turned to the older Doctor again. “You can’t tell her, is that it? Because she hasn’t done it yet? I’m sorry, River, maybe I shouldn’t have—”
“No!” Babyface shouted, finally collecting himself. “Yes, we— I had a family, on Gallifrey, before I ever left. River wasn’t there, obviously, because that’s not how anything works!”
“Who, then?” the young Doctor demanded. “Who was your first wife?”
“I— I— she was—” He opened and closed his mouth silently, looking increasingly horrified.
“You don’t like to talk about it,” River explained. “She passed away.”
“Yes, but just between me and myself,” the young Doctor pressed on with an utter absence of tact that made it easier than ever to see this was the same man before her, “who was she? And your children, what were their names?”
River hesitated, watching as the older Doctor wrestled with himself. These were details not even she had ever asked him for. She knew the general outline, of course, and that was enough. It was a hurt so deep and so impossibly ancient, she couldn’t truly imagine how distant it must be for him now. No sense in forcing him to open that door and dwell on it again.
“I, I don’t,” he finally muttered, looking almost fearful, “I don’t talk about it. I don’t think about it.”
“You’ve forgotten them,” the young Doctor said, voice low and furious. “How could you?”
“S-Susan,” Babyface stammered, wide-eyed. “I left Gallifrey with Susan.”
A relieved smile flashed across the young Doctor’s face. “And where did you suppose she came from?”
“No, she… I don’t…” Chair legs scraped abruptly across the tile as the older Doctor bolted up from his seat, white-faced, and stumbled back from the table.
“Doctor?” River stood, her hearts racing.
His eyes met hers for a split second, the strange terror in them sending a chill through her, and then he was gone like a shot.
“Doctor!” She made to chase after him, but his younger version was still clasping her hand.
“He’ll be fine,” he reassured her. “He’s just working it out.”
“Working it out?” she repeated, too stunned to reach out and grasp for the obvious. She turned to him in a daze. He smiled, and for a fleeting moment she fancied she could see the long contentment of a life she’d never dared dream of, etched in each little line on his older, younger face.
“I told you, River.” He laid his other hand over hers, warm and steady. “It was always you.”
***
#thank you so much for these they were great questions!!#i need to like shut up though these are such long answers lollllll#amillionmillionvoices
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Double Shot Chapter 7
I had a good couple of months of normalcy. I barely noticed that the five arsonists/murderers weren’t around anymore. I definitely didn’t start up from wherever I might be every single fucking time the bells on the entrance chimed. I most certainly didn’t nearly break my fucking leg on my own goddamn coffee table when one of the specialty ingredients I ordered came to my apartment door when the delivery driver came after hours.
You know what? Normalcy is wonderful. I mean, the amount of THINGS I got completed. The baseboards of the cafe, kitchen, and my entire fucking apartment, not to mention the public restrooms in the shop (seriously, gag, don’t mention them) have never been cleaner. I also made sure that there wasn’t a speck of dust in the entire shop, or my apartment. I think I made Keli worry a little bit when I started sweeping the sidewalk outside The Little Drip. It was hard to tell. Do scowls and squinting equal concern?
I hardly noticed that they weren’t around at all. It really made it easier every time that Detective Marks and Detective Johnson came in to see if my memory had been jogged at all about the night of the fire. They hadn’t mentioned the dead person, and neither did the news. I started to wonder if maybe Clay had been mistaken. If there was a dead body, wouldn’t it be news? Instead the focus seemed to be on the fire itself, as though a building was more important than a person’s life.
It was at the beginning of the third month when I managed to NOT glance up at all when the bell signaled a customer’s arrival. My nose and finger was busy with my clipboard, Wednesday the worst day of my week, but one of the best Addams family members, but then I heard it. Keli’s mutter of the order and I fought against raising my head. Nope, not gonna happen today.
“Charlotte?” I sighed, and rolled my shoulders. Hallucinations brought on by trauma (the fire, renting to the firestarters, the aftermath of said fire) were perfectly normal. Even if they were auditory now. “Hey,” damn it, I thought, if I look up and the fucking shop has Mrs. Angley standing in front of me asking one more fucking time if I could add a coffee combo that ONLY Nestle and their Nespresso machines had, I would explode.
I flicked my eyes up and shook my head again. Shit. From auditory to visual, I wondered if I could afford therapy. If I wasn’t completely batshit, then JJ or Jen was standing in front of me. If I was, well fuck if I couldn’t help the smile that spread across my traitorous face. Fucker.
“Hey,” I offered, sneaking a glance at Keli to see if she was dialing for a loony wagon to come fetch me. She was busy waiting on another customer, but when she turned to make their order she shrugged and shot JJ’s back a look. Shared hallucination? Nah, Keli didn’t give a shit about anything in the shop, much less the customers. “How are you?” Clearly I hadn’t lost my damn mind, or at least not all of it.
JJ/Jen’s face broke out in that awkward smile that he charmed me with the first round, his hand scrubbing over his head like he wanted to DO something. “Yeah, good, I think.” I shook my head again, every question I asked him always seemed like it was too hard to work out for him. Which was complete bullshit because I had a feeling that he was smarter than anyone could fathom. “You?”
Another sigh escaped. “I’d be better if I didn’t have almost weekly visits from two cops about that weird fire that broke out across the street.” The debris was gone, but Flirty and Grumpy’s interest hadn’t died down. “Hopefully they wind up the investigation and I can stop footing their sweet and coffee bill.” I tempered it with a smile. “I better get back to my-”
“Tallies and numbering?” The deep voice cut in and I wanted to shoot myself, but I hated guns. Fuck. “Hey, Charlotte.” I shut my eyes to steady myself and forced what I hoped would be a neutral smile on my face.
“Clay,” I turned away with my clipboard and went back to counting, firmly feeling that we had our little talk and while they very sight of him would no doubt cause parts of me a LOT of unfulfilled pleasure, my brain said ‘fuck no’. Of course I didn’t know Clay all that damn well, but I definitely assumed he understood the brush off a woman turning her back to him was. I was wrong.
“Charlotte,” he was beside me, and I shut my eyes again. “Can’t count with your eyes closed.”
“Maybe I’m doing mental math, Clay.” I ground out, praying him and his ragtag group of charismatic assholes would take a hint, even as my other parts were battling the prayer to smithereens at how happy they were to see them again.
I could feel the heat of him close to me, but I had no idea how close until I opened my eyes. Fuck. He was right beside me, his arm almost brushing mine, and I wanted to hit him, or maybe just run my finger up his- Oh, no you don’t, Charlotte, get your libido under control, you tart.
“Tell me what the problem is, two heads are better than one, right?” I was thinking about his second head and realized that WASN’T what he was talking about, was it? Shit. I felt my mouth go dry. How could he affect me so fucking much, we hadn’t actually fucking TOUCHED?
Swallowing and trying to get saliva from anywhere at this point, a thought that shot another fucking dirty thought through me as I fucking imagined his mouth and tongue moving with mine- Wait, what was the question?
“Charlotte?” Damn it. “What addition problem are you working through? Or is it subtraction?” I flashed on the old dirty joke that went ‘Sex is like math: Add the bed, Subtract the clothes, Divide the legs, and pray to God you don’t Multiply!’ Fuck, not helping. Looking Clay up and down from out of the corner of my eye, I thought maybe multiplying with him wouldn’t be a terrible idea. Shit.
I had to focus. Math, eyes shut, right. “I was trying to work out how many more of these,” I moved the hand closest to him, and fuck if it didn’t brush against his crotch as I reached for a bag of random fucking coffee beans. Goddamn it, really?!
He hissed out a bit of air when my knuckles touched the zipper of his pants and I felt the blush flare up from my toes to my hairline. Shit, shit, shit. “That was unexpected,” I couldn’t look up at him, not while I was holding a hefty bag of coffee beans and after hearing the tone he used I imagined he was wearing a smug and mocking smile. Fucker. I swallowed down the fact that I’d FELT him. Through his pants, and I fucking imagined underwear of some sort, and fuck if I didn’t want to try it without the extra barriers. Damn it.
“I was reaching for these,” I held up the bag of beans. “It’s not MY fault you were hovering.” There, righteous indignation. That works on TV all the damn time, right? I felt him looking down at me, even if my eyes refused to meet his. My shame wouldn’t allow it.
“Right, the math problem.” He sounded as convinced as I had when my mom insisted that the Easter bunny was real, even as I asked her how he laid fucking eggs. “How many of-” his hand met mine where it was holding the bag of beans and I felt the blush grow hotter. Could you get heat stroke from your own blush? Asking for me. “These, do you usually have on hand?” Hand? Like the one you have tight against mine? Think, Charlotte, think.
Clipboard, fuck I nearly danced when I remembered it. Glancing down, without realizing that we were still holding the damn bag of fucking beans, I saw the control number and gave it to him. “By my account, Charlotte, you need ONE bag.” Damn it. I felt hotter than ever, and now I couldn’t decide if it was my face or other parts that were throwing off the most heat, his hand was still holding mine and the bag. “Any other math you want me to help with?” The mind is a torturous asshole, because mine flashed on that fucking ‘problem’ I’d considered before. Nope, not today.
I took a beat or five before I answered. My brain was overheating, my face was on fire, and please don’t make me talk about my panties. Letting out a long breath, I forced another smile onto my face. “No, that was the hardest one.”
And that did it, he chuckled and I really wished that the whole ‘the floor is lava’ thing was true, because then I could fucking die. “Oh, Charlotte, it’s not nearly as hard as it can get.” Damn it.
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Thread 04 (First Time)
Although Ezra knew he should be bothered by Sydney’s angry text, he wasn’t even phased by it. Did he feel guilty for hurting the woman she was dating? Yes. It must’ve been hard for her to find out that the woman she was dating had found her soulmate, but he was not to be blamed here. He simply did what he had to to quell his curiosity. Turns out, he was right all along, she was his other half. After sending a response, he placed his cellphone on his bed and went to take a shower. He didn’t know how long he was in there for, but as he was stepping out, he heard an unmistakable chime that alerted him of an incoming text message. Still wrapped in a towel and damp from his shower, he grabbed his phone to take a look at the message. What he read had his blood boiling instantly. The words, ‘Stay the hell away from me. I don’t ever want to see your smug face again,’ kept flashing before his eyes. He didn’t know what possessed him to do it, but half an hour later, he was standing at Sydney’s doorsteps, pounding at the door. There was no masking his anger, his eyes blazed with fury, jaw ticking as he waited for her to open up. When she did, the words that came out of his mouth were, “You really think I’m going to give up that easily, Syd? You’re mine, but since you’re still trying to deny what we have, it’s time I show you who you belong to.”
Ezra reacted before he could stop himself, lunging forward, his hands grabbed at her lithe frame and pulled her flush against his body. He’d done it so fast and with such force, he could hear a thud as their bodies slammed together. His mouth found hers then, a hand moving up from her waist to bunch her soft tresses along his fingers. While he’d been gentle in the past, this time, he took her mouth hungrily, allowing his tongue to dance with hers. Even with how close they were standing right now, he couldn’t get enough of her, he needed more. He began moving then, backing her up until he had her pressed against the wall, his hard body bearing down on her softer frame; all the while still ravenously claiming her mouth with his. The kiss was punishing and sensual; it was his way of expressing how much he’d yearned for her, how hurt he’d been having to read her rejection. He needed her to know that he was here and had no plans on leaving her; ever. His attention was focused elsewhere a moment later as his head descended, his lips leaving a trail of kisses on his journey down to her neck. He would be a lying son of bitch if he said that he didn’t stay up at night thinking about all the things that he wanted to do to her body. Most nights, the imagery were so vivid, he’d have to relieve the ache through masturbation. Well, not tonight. He wasn’t going to wait any longer. She was his and damn it, he would take her tonight. Since she so adamantly wanted to deny what they had, he planned on fucking her to the point where she wouldn’t even think about walking away. As much as he wanted her, he couldn’t force himself on her. This had to be mutual. With that thought on his mind, he stopped himself from going further, and looked her in the eyes, “Tell me that you don’t want me, that you don’t burn for me as much I as I do for you. Tell me and I’ll stop.” His voice was laced with unbridled lust, hues dark as the words fell from his lips.
Since that night they had kissed and she found out Ezra was her soulmate, she honestly felt as if her entire world had flipped. She did not ask for this and it was the reason why she had kept her distance for him, she hadn’t know he was her soulmate of course until that night. However, the magnetic pull and desire she felt towards him since their first run was enough to scare her. Now, Sydney wasn’t against soulmates, she was happy for those who found theirs and it worked out for them. But the brunette had the front row seat to what soulmates could do to a person if they lost theirs. She’d seen her father become a ghost of the man he was when her mother was snatched away by the cruel hands of fate. It scared her because if Ezra could make her happy he could also easily break her and she refused to give him that chance. The kiss however refused to leave her mind during the day and her nights that were too often spent with dreams of him. So, Sydney finally snapped and sent him the text, demanding he leave let er be. God, he had appeared of nowhere and just inserted himself into her life without any regards to what she felt about it. He had ruined her relationship with Lucia, she shouldn’t want him, he was not for her as Sydney was not for him. Thus, when she sent her final text for the night and received no response she was a bit relived but equally aching. Maybe he would leave her alone from now on and while her mind was satisfied, her heart on the other hand had not been. It ached for him still but Sydney knew she had done the right thing. He would move on, after all, he barely knew her. Still, she was filled with guilt for her harsh words. She didn’t mean her words of course, but they had to be said in hopes that they would hurt him enough that he’d be gone from her life. The cold hard truth was, she couldn’t give Ezra what he wanted. A loud knock startled her from her reverie, thinking it had been Lyra she walked over to the door about to open her mouth and chide her friend for being so impatient but to her shock Ezra stood at her porch.Her eyes widened slightly as she took in the absolute look of fury in his eyes, seeing that muscle in his jaw tick, and the dark look in his eyes was enough to make Sydney want to run. A shiver went down her spine at his words but more so at the tone he used to delivered them. This was a look she had not ever seen on Ezra and she had no idea what to make of it.
However, it was too late to run, before she could even respond to his words, he had hauled her to his chest with such a force that a noise between a yelp and a gasp left her lips. Seconds later, she then felt the wall behind her as his tall lean frame covered hers completely just as she she felt his mouth clamp down on her with a bruising force that a whimper left her lips. The way his hands were griping her, god she felt the delicious heat of them through her silky nightgown, as if his hand were burning her bare skin. Like before, every nerve and fiber inside of her came alive as it had that night, when he first kissed her. His mouth moved overs relentlessly and Sydney found it hard to reciprocate for the first few moments as she was still in shock. Until she felt his tongue slip into her mouth and a moan escaped her, her body easily giving into Ezra because it had ached for him for so long. A part of her tried to resist but as his mouth moved over hers so expertly some of the fight in her was beginning to leave. But there was something else she sensed besides lust in his kiss, as if he were trying to tell her something. She didn’t get the chance to focus on it as he had tore his mouth away and began kissing a trail downwards that she felt them on the sensitive skin of her neck. Her head tipped back without her permission and everywhere his lips touch, they left a blazing trail on her skin. Her hands coming up to grip his shoulder for support as his mouth counted to assault her.Sydney almost hated herself for letting him do this to her, what she should do is push him away and then promptly kick him out but her brain did not seem to be cooperating. Her body to overruled by the sensations she was experiencing thanks to him, how he did this she didn’t know. So when he finally pulled away, her chest still heaved as she tried to catch her breath. Sydney would never admit it to him out loud but she did belong to him, she had long accepted it and it was also what prompted her to message him so cruelly. Her green eyes met his dark ones as he spoke, she heard the barely tamed lust in his voice that had her heart racing. Oh, how she wished she could tell him to get lost and tell him she didn’t want him but she couldn’t. Once more she found herself weak against him, wanting to give into him, as much as she might end up regretting it. “I want to hate you, and I think I do for doing this to me.” she whispered barely, her own gaze filled with desire, hating her traitorous body. Her heart still thudding against her chest as she realized what she was about to do. “Don’t stop.”
Ezra was angry at the way he was being dismissed, his ire bursting forward with the text message he received. He wasn’t normally like this, he didn’t give in to his emotions. In fact, before he met Sydney, he was usually a pretty easy going guy. He couldn’t stop how he felt about her however, his feelings grew in such a small amount of time and before he knew it, she was consuming all of him. He spent his every waking minute thinking about her to the point where he thought he was going crazy. All he wanted now was to be given the chance to show her how happy he could make her. Was that too much to ask? He didn’t think so. He’d given her ample opportunity to figure out her feelings. He wasn’t going to push her too hard. But when he read those cruel words she sent to him, his anger got the best of him. He knew that she felt this burning magnetism between them, that it couldn’t be just him that yearned for her. It almost felt like he simply couldn’t function without her by his side. Maybe it was unfair of him to push his will onto her. Perhaps it made him a monster, but he didn’t know what else to do now. He was at his wits end, and since she was so adamant about wanting to push him out of her life, he allowed his body to do the work. His kisses and touches were bruising and punishing, he didn’t bother to be gentle, letting his ire get the best of him. No matter how much he wanted to simply take her with no questions asked, he wasn’t a monster and would never dream of hurting her by taking her by force, so he waited, his hues boring onto hers, waiting for the consent that he hoped she would give him. “Stop lying to yourself, Syd. You know full well that you could never hate me, just like I could never hate you.” He retorted to her obvious lie. Her eyes revealed everything that he needed to know. She might have been fighting her needs, but her hues never lied. Her consent came a short while later and without so much as another word, he picked her up and wrapped her legs around his waist.
Ezra didn’t know how he was able to move as his mouth lavished kisses on her neck and chest, teeth grazing and nipping at her pliant skin. Somehow, by some miracle he made to her dining table without incident where he sat her down on the wooden surface and pulled her bottom to the edge. His head dipped down to claim her mouth in a bruising kiss, their tongues dancing together passionately for a time before he descended down, leaving kisses in her wake on his journey down to her center. Sydney was still wearing her silk nightgown, the ebony shade of the material highlighting the color of her pale skin. As beautiful as she looked right then, he needed her bare for him, so he reached for the hem of her dress and took off the offending material in one swooping motion; throwing it to the side. His cock twitched in his pants as his hungry gaze took in her half naked appearance. The only thing she had on was black lacy panties. “Fuck.. You’re beautiful…” Those were the only words he managed to say before he was on his knees, his hands ripping the lace off her body. He settled between her thighs then, his fingers gently caressing her folds, focusing on her sensitive clit to draw out her pleasure filled moans. His eyes were on hers for a moment asking for silent permission before he could move further and when their eyes locked, he lowered his head and swiped his tongue along her center. She was wet and so eager for his touch, he simply couldn’t bring himself to disappoint her. He took her cues into consideration, listening for her mewls of pleasure to use as his guide. If the taste of her juices wasn’t enough to make him moan, the sound that escaped her lips clearly managed the feat. A low rumbling groan left him, sending vibrations to her pussy. His tongue focused on lapping at her sensitive nub for a few moments before he latched on and suckled; flicking his tongue on her clit mercilessly.
Sydney honestly couldn’t believe she had sent that cruel message to Ezra, she who was never cold to anyone had behaved this way to the one person she’d admired for so long. Although, now it was beyond her admiration, because despite her best effort Sydney had developed feelings for the actor. God, she tried not to, she tried so hard to stay away from him, pushing him away every chance she got and yet all of her efforts had been futile. Futile because Ezra had pushed himself inside of her life, the man had determined like she’d never seen before. Whereas before, he had been persistent but the moment the two discovered they’d been soulmates that night, Ezra seemed more determined than ever. Nevermind, the guilt that plagued her each time she thought about that scorching kiss they shared in his car, and how she let Ezra touch her as if he had a right to do so, as if she had a right to enjoy it. What she should have done is put a stop it all before it got that far, she’d still been with Lucia, god dammit. How could Sydney betray her in a such way? She couldn’t allow herself to fall for him, he was far too dangerous for her that it had never been so evident until that night in his car when she got carried away.
Her attempt to pull herself together had backfired when she instead sent him a cruel message, of course she shouldn’t have been so surprised that he showed up tonight all in is fury. But that wild look in his eyes had shaken her, it was a look she didn’t even think Ezra was capable of adopting. Ezra, who was normally so sweet and charming, but tonight he was like an entirely different person. Sydney didn’t get a chance to reflect on his change in behavior longer as suddenly his mouth landed on hers in such a bruising force. A sharp gasp left her lips as his mouth claimed hers in a punishing manner until she complied and melted into the kiss. Her body betrayed her, it ached for him for so long that putting up a fight was something Sydney couldn’t even entertain. She wanted him, wanted him so bad that it frightened her to her very core but it was becoming evident she wasn’t going to stop him. When he met her gaze and bluntly told her she was lying, she said nothing because she could see Ezra had seen the desire in her eyes. More importantly, he was right, she didn’t hate him, she could never hate him despite her ire towards him. Sydney felt herself being lifted and her legs wrapped around his waist, her hands clutched his shoulder as his mouth continued to ravage her and wrecked havoc on her senses. She felt his sharp teeth bitting and nipping her sensitive skin and she easily gave him access, soft whimpers leaving her lips as he carried somewhere too lost in sensations to even care.
Seconds later she felt the table beneath her and then she was slid to the edge until her feet dangled at the edge. The brunette watched Ezra with wide eyes her breathing still ragged but his mouth descended on hers yet again. The kiss just as punishing as the last but this time she responded just as passionately, her tongue moving along his as her arms wrapped around his neck. Ezra broke the kiss first and she felt his lips moved lower until he was hovering over center. It was then Sad looked back at him seeing his hot gaze rake over her frame and before she knew it he had her bare until she was in nothing but her lacey panties. Goosebumps rose along her skin at being exposed to the air but more so being exposed to his hungry gaze that sent shivers down her spine. Her green eyes darkened as she watched him watch her, her heart hammering against her chest she was afraid it would burst out when he called her beautiful and then she felt her panties being ripped away. Between his his kisses, his hungry gaze, and the panties being ripped away, Sydney could feel herself growing wet. But before she could plead for him to touch her, Ezra had planted himself on his knees while she finally felt his hand on her folds. A sharp moan left her lips, moans that become continuous as he continued to fondle and caress her wet folds. Sydney wanted to close her eyes at the array of sensations that passed through her but Ezra kept her gaze locked with his asking for permission.Her body tensed up in antiquation of what he was about to do and Sydney didn’t dare stop him, silently pleading for him to do something to ease the ache that building inside of her. She wanted feel him on her, his hands, his mouth, his rock hard body anything to ease the yearning she had. Even if she wanted to look away from his intense gaze, she couldn’t, she watched as Ezra kept his gaze to her and lowered his mouth to her center. She felt his tongue swipe her folds and another deep moan left her lips, it was then she finally tore her gaze away as Ezra’s mouth continued to move over her center that by now her moans didn’t stop. Her hands buried themselves into his dark locks, fingers twisting in the soft strands, harshly tugging on them each time his tongue swiped over her folds. “Oh god, Ezra..” she breathed out, his name falling from her lips like a litany as pleasure washed over her in waves. His hot tongue lapping her juices relentlessly that Sydney felt she was about to explode from the sheer amount of pleasure she was experiencing. She could feel her orgasm building the muscles in her stomach coiling and when she felt his growl vibrate against her pussy she nearly lost it right then and there. Without even realizing it, her fingers dug into his scalp harder, clutching him as his mouth moved to her clit repeatedly and her moans became sharp cries that by now she was all but yelling his name. How he was able to do this to her, Sydney had no idea but it was becoming evident that no matter how hard she tried escaping him was not going to be easy.
Despite Ezra’s attempts at tamping down his hurt, he could still feel the sting of Sydney’s rejection. His heart still ached, his stomach left in knots as he tried to imagine a life without her. It sucked knowing that the person who was born to complete him didn’t want to have anything to do with him. He didn’t even understand what he did wrong. Sure, he’d kissed her that night in his car, triggering their soul mark and finally getting the answers that he’d been desperately needing. He’d known all along that there had to be a reason he was so drawn to her, why he ached to be by her side; and had suspected that it could be because she was his soulmate. Thankfully, he had been right all along and wasn’t making things up in his head. But still, even then he tried to understand the predicament that Sydney was in. She was in a relationship, and needed to sort out her feelings. He might’ve told her that she would someday come to realize that she belonged with him, but it wasn’t laid out as a threat, merely a gentle reminder. It had never been his intention to hurt anyone, especially the unsuspecting woman that Sydney dated. He didn’t like going around hurting people; he mostly just wanted to live his life and be happy. It wasn’t too much to ask, right? Of course, he would much rather things be straightforward and for him to not have to fight just to be with his intended half, but that wasn’t in the cards for him, and so he waited, and waited, because being a dick wouldn’t have worked to his advantage anyway. The best course of action was to give her room. How unfortuitous that the room he left her was taken as a way out. That she thought she could just discard him like yesterday’s news.
Sydney didn’t understand the depths of his longing; the lengths he would take to secure her. Having to read that text message was definitely not something he needed. It sparked an explosion within him. If she wasn’t going to respond to him being kind, than he would simply have to get to her by using his aggression. He did just that by the way he kissed her, the bruising grip her had on her body. It was almost like he wanted to punish her with his touch. If she thought she could walk away before, after tonight, she would never be able to think that way again. He would fuck her so hard, even if she wanted to run, she wouldn’t be able to do so. Being nice so far hadn’t done the job, so if she wanted to see him turn into a persistent asshole, she was definitely getting that. Ezra wasn’t even sorry for behaving like this. He’d had enough of being jerked around, his emotions in constant turmoil, he deserved to be happy, to find peace, and perhaps if he could convince his dark haired beauty that they belonged together by giving her pleasure that no other man or woman could ever bestow upon her, then maybe she would stop fighting and give in to what Destiny had been telling her all along. They belonged together. She was his and he would never let her go. If only she would get that message through to her brain, he wouldn’t have to do this. Taking her with such bruising force, he himself was a little taken aback by his unabated hunger. To his defense, Syd wasn’t making matters easier for him. The way she was moaning for him as he pleasured her; his tongue swirling about along her pussy, lapping up her excitement; sent the need he felt for her into overdrive.His cock was painfully hard now, any harder, it would burst out of his jeans. He wanted to sate his lust by burying himself in her slick heat, to fuck her so hard that he would soon forget what he was angry about, but that would have to wait. The plan was still the same; for him to make her scream in pleasure and the first thing he needed to do was to eat her out until he accomplished his goal.
Ezra never thought that he could be more turned on than he did right now, his tongue imbedded in her pussy, feeling how Sydney was reacting to his every touch, her lithe body shifting about as he continued to assault her senses. He was dead wrong for thinking that this was as good as it would get however, because the moment he felt her fingers in his hair, nails gently scraping his scalp and the easy way she moaned out his name, he was a goner. His goals changed a little more; he now wanted her to repeatedly call out his name until his ears ring from hearing them. His dark hues zeroed in on her while he ate her out, his gaze taking in the scene before him. Seeing her writhing in pleasure and tasting her sweet and musky juices was making him even more eager to pleasure her. She was telling him how close she was without having to voice out the fact; her actions being the number one indication. He needed more from her however, wanted her to come so hard that she forgets her fruitless plans of getting rid of him. Reaching out with his right hand, he trailed it up her torso until he found her breast where he then rolled a nipple between his fingers. “Fuck… You taste so fucking good. Cum, for me, Syd. Let go for me.” He urged, though the words sounded more like a demand than a request. His head descended once more after that and with his mouth now forming a suction against her sensitive nub, he moved his free hand from her thigh and used his pointer and middle finger to thrust into her tight canal.
That night they had kissed, Ezra’s words that she’d realize she was meant to be him all along replayed in her mind the following days. She realized he hadn’t done it to pressure her but it hadn’t made her feel any better, in fact, they were almost like a slap to her face. That she was doomed to hurt Lucia, no matter how hard she tried to stay away from him and do the right thing. That perhaps also what prompted her to send that awful message to him, but she didn’t blame him for his anger, however his sudden aggression had surprised her. Sydney knew he hadn’t anything wrong but express his interest her, no, the problem laid within her. She began to like him far too much in the short time she’d known him, how in just a few meetings he’d managed to make her want him with an intensity that took her breath away. She supposed their triggering soulmark also explained why she was so drawn to him since the very first time she laid eyes on him. Ezra had always told her it was their destiny to meet and that night she realized how true is words rang, much to her dismay. Still, she couldn’t allow herself to get caught up in such a thing which is why her body screamed at her to push him away. That this was the last thing she should be doing with Ezra but words failed her as did her body, which only encouraged his ministrations. The brunette tried not to moan, biting her lip to keep the sound from escaping but they had anyway.
Sydney was so lost in the pleasure he was giving her that her rational side promptly shut down and she gave into him and what she was feeling for the man on his knees tormenting her relentlessly. His tongue was like velvet against her sensitive folds, she could feel herself growing wetter with his touch and flick of his tongue. Her head tipped back as she felt his tongue push deeper inside of her, her moans continues as her hands buried themselves deeper into his scalp. She was sure all she could remember now was just his name that spilled from her frequently while her legs quivered until she felt the tension inside of her began to grow with her desire. If his fingers and tongue on her soaking wet core wasn’t enough, Ezra went a step further as he felt one of his hands slid up her torso until it was on her breast. Her pebble hard nipple now between his fingers a sharp gasp left her lips at the new array of sensations that rippled through her body. Between his mouth wreaking havoc on her and his hand toying with her sensitive nipple, Sydney felt her orgasm building at a rapid pace but she still didn’t voice what she wanted. Somehow, Ezra had sensed what she wanted, and demanded she come for him and she almost did right at his request, his words only turning her on more. Seconds later, she felt two of his digits slid inside of her and she moaned loudly than she had since he began. Her hands tugging at his hair a bit more harshly, while her legs came to rest around his shoulders locking him in place. She should have been embarrassed but she couldn’t find it in herself to be in this moment. “Ezra…more.” She managed to moan out just as his mouth began working over her core aggressively and it was then Sydney felt herself let go. Her orgasm washing over so intensely she swore she saw stars, “Ezra!” His name more of a shout at the pleasure that was coursing through her, but her grip in his hair didn’t loosen as her chest heaved.
If it were up to Ezra, he wouldn’t allow Sydney to leave the bed until he was fully satisfied that she was too tired to push him away. Technically, he wasn’t even in the bedroom, they were still in her dining room, where she was perched on the edge of the dining table with his mouth buried on her pussy. He was so greedy for her, the hand that was on her breast, grasping and squeezing the globes while his fingers tweaked her nipple. Should he be gentle since this was the first time he was taking her? Probably. But judging from the sounds she was making and how she was shifting about, legs locking around his shoulders and grinding her slick pussy along his mouth, all this was telling him that he was doing everything right. What drove him crazy was how her fingers tugged at his hair. Fuck, he always felt like all of his blood would pump right to his cock when a woman would do that while he ate her out, and this time was no different. If anything, he was even more turned on by the act. He was addicted to her and could already tell that there was no way he could easily allow her to leave him. No way, no how was that ever going to happen. The movements of his fingers and tongue increased rapidly after he growled out the demand for her to let go. He needed her to surrender her pleasure to him wholly, only then would he be mildly satisfied. When she did fall over the precipice, her womb contracted, pussy clenched around his fingers so tightly, it caused his cock to twitch in envy. He needed her to be wrapped around him, to feel her tightness enveloping his length.
The imagery had him moving swiftly; rising from his knees and then claiming her mouth in a kiss so deep, his felt his erection growing even harder. “I fucking need you…” He growled against her lips, as he clumsily undid the brass button and zipper of his jeans. All the while his lips greedily took hers, his tongue lashing at hers. Despite the awkward position he was in, he somehow managed to free himself from the confines of his jeans and once he did that, he didn’t hesitate; lining himself along her core and quickly entering her. “Fuck, Syd…” He groaned, his heart hammering inside his chest as her wet heat wrapped around his cock. She was tight, gripping him like a vice, almost as if she was urging him to take her hard and fast. As much as he wanted to do just that, he couldn’t allow himself to get carried away yet, needing to give her time to get used to having him inside her. While he waited, he explored the smooth expanse of her neck, gently rubbing his nose over it before he caught her ivory skin with his teeth and suckled on it, knowing full well that he would be leaving his mark on her. Before too long, he began moving, thrusting into her hard and fast. He couldn’t get enough of her, even as he was fully buried within her heat, he wanted more. His hands were everywhere, grasping and groping on every inch he could grab ahold of. Shifting back a little, his hues met with hers and even in the throws of passion, he couldn’t deny how remarkably beautiful she was. Her radiance shone brightly; and in spite of her hesitance, he knew deep within his soul that she was born to complete him. Reaching out, he cupped her chin and once again allowed their lips to meet; tongues dancing together as the passion between them continue to ignite.
Sydney couldn’t recall ever being touched in this manner by anyone, and to see it from Ezra had stunned her a bit. The man who looked as if he was always so calm and collected and then suddenly to see him snap was jarring to say the least. What she should have done was reject his advances, but instead of being put off or being frightened by them, she’d been so turned on by them. Maybe it was in the authoritative way he just grabbed onto her or maybe the way he kissed as if she were his very lifeline that had Sydney melt into him so easily. Of course, Sydney knew since the moment they had kissed that night in his car, she felt this strange sense of yearning and it was unlike anything she could ever put into words. A yearning that never ceased until Ezra’s lips came down onto with a bruising force but also one that made her feel more alive than she ever had. Not even Lucia’s kisses and touches ignited this sort of fire in her and while she was always satisfied, none of it came close to what Ezra’s hands and mouth were doing to her. Her senses kicked into overdrive as desire escalated to such a great height she swore she would die if he stopped. As Ezra’s mouth continued to move her folds, Sydney’s grip in his hair tightened and her hips bucked rubbing herself against his relentless mouth. Her legs wrapping around his shoulder even as they quivered at the sensations spiraling inside of her. So when he all but ordered her to let go and slid his fingers inside of her, her walls clenched him until seconds later she peaked as she shouted his name. It was perhaps then she realized just how ingrained he’d became into her life and how despite her denial her very soul ached for him. She’d been so prepared not to see him again but now that she had Ezra as he was now, kneeling in front of her and giving her such exquisite pleasure, she wondered how she thought she could stay from him.
She had just caught her breath from the intense orgasm he’d given her when she saw him rise back up and catch her mouth. Her mouth responding immediately to his kiss, reciprocating with the same fervor as she felt vibrations of his words against her lips. The words of him needing her sent a fresh wave of arousal through her and she heard him quickly undo his jeans, anticipation filling for what was about to come. Sydney wanted to reach out and touch him, as he was still far too clothed for her liking but he didn’t give her the chance. She did catch the sight of his length as he pulled it free, not missing just how well-endowed Ezra was but before she could reach out and grip him he was already lining himself by her entrance. The moment he slid inside of her, a soft whimper left her lips at the size of him. It had been quite some time since she’d been with a man but she couldn’t recall ever being with a man who was big as Ezra was. As he buried himself into her in one swift stroke, her walls held his thick length in a vice-like grip and a moan left her lips lips at how good felt inside of her. He felt…he felt like he belonged in there and if Sydney wasn’t so lost in the sensations she was experiencing that mere thought would have frightened her. She didn’t have time to think as Ezra’s mouth found the skin of her neck the way he was sucking and biting left no doubt there would be marks in the places the next day.Then Ezra began moving inside of her, his thrusts hard and fast that her moans become continuous while his slipped from her over and over. She felt his hands grip her everywhere they could as roughly as they had before and her legs came to wrap around his waist because Sydney couldn’t get close enough. “Ezra..” His name a breathless sound as attempted get him to tug his shirt off so she could feel that toned chest of his under her hands. Her nails dug into his back as she held onto him, her hips moving in sync with his as her eyes squeezed shut in absolute ecstasy. It was moments later she felt him shift away from her and she almost moaned in protest until she felt his eyes on her, even with her eyes closed she felt the wright of his gaze that forced her to open her eyes. Then his mouth claim her once more, and Sydney was kissing him back hungrily, still catching onto him as close as she could wanting to feeling all she could of him.
Ezra had never wanted anyone like he did Sydney. The emptiness and ache he felt without her by his side was enough to drive him to insanity. He never knew hunger and yearning like he did with her. Couldn’t she feel his pain? Just a little bit? If he was suffering without her, surely she would feel at least a little something that mimicked his own suffering. It couldn’t all be on him, right? He couldn’t focus on that now, he was lost in a lust so deep for her, that all he saw and felt was her. Her arms were wrapped around his neck; legs encircling his waist tightly; her actions encouraging him to fuck her hard and deep, and take her like he’d never taken any other woman before. There didn’t seem to be an end to his hunger, and with every thrust, he could feel her pussy pulsating around his cock, urging to give her more. Though she didn’t say anything other than his name–which sounded like the most erotic thing in the world–he could feel that she was drawing closer to her climax. She was tight and oh so wet, and the way she was reacting to him made this experience a little more satisfying. His lips fused with hers, teeth nibbling and pulling at her plump bottom lip for a moment, before suckling on it to ease the sting away. He tongued the cavern of her sweet mouth; as his cock thrust in and out of her pussy. “Fuck… I can’t get enough of you.” The words rolled out easily and without much thought or hesitation.
Ezra then transferred his attention down to the pulse point of Sydney’s neck, sucking at the smooth skin there. The need to possess her empowered him, the shock of it nearly stunned him, yet he couldn’t deny it. He wanted her with an intensity that scared even him. Perhaps this was what it would always be like for him, to always burn for his other half and that even when she was near, he still felt like he couldn’t get enough. That didn’t make sense, right? There had to be another reason why he was feeling like this, and he suspected the answer was her rejection. It stung, even now. She couldn’t just push him away, he was not going to allow her to do that to him. If it meant that he would have to fuck her into submission, then he would just have to do it. When he felt her pussy clenching tightly once more, he knew that she was close. Slipping his hand down to her core, his thumb found the sensitive nub of her clit where he then began caressing it to help her along. He tore his mouth away from her neck, lips trailing up to graze the shell of her ear, “Cum for me.” He murmured, voice growing a little lower, hungrier as he growled out his next words, “cum for your soulmate…” Deep down, he knew that it might scare her; him claiming her as his by saying the one word that would freak her out; soulmate. And yet, he couldn’t bring himself to care. She was his, and if she thought that she could run away from that fact, she might as well surrender now, because he had no intention of ever letting her go.
Sydney could never understand where this pull towards him came from nor could she fully understand why she ached for him. Only to find out it was because of the one thing she was not keen on discovering, that Ezra was her soulmate. But as she tried to run away for this man, who was currently giving her such intense pleasure, he still found her. Ezra was everywhere, on her mind, in her dreams, and in her heart and she didn’t want any of it. Still, he had found a way to make her want him, and how he managed it she still didn’t know. The brunette pushed the thoughts away as white hot pleasure began to race through her body and all she was feeling was Ezra’s thick length inside of her as he moved in and out in such vigor that she was seeing stars behind her tightly closed eye lids. Her legs as well as her walls were clamped around him as if she’d never let him go and she was sure in this moment no power on earth could separate her from Ezra. His mouth hot on hers as their tongues danced together once more and she kissed him hungrily tasting him in return while he felt pump in out and inside of her. It was his next words that had her tense up momentarily, her eyes snapping open to peer at him in mild shock. She had no answer for him other than her walls clenching around tighter as they had such a strange effect on her and sent her heart racing even more so than it already was.
Her moans never ceased at his relentless thrusting and each time he pushed inside of her she felt him touch places deep inside of her she had no idea even existed. Their mouths broke the connection as Ezra’s lips trailed down to her neck and his teeth and mouth began sucking on her sensitive skin. Sydney’s nails dug deeper into his shoulders, head tilted back in utter ecstasy and she gladly let him have his way with her. Between his nibbling and his powerful thrusts, she didn’t think she’d last very long feeling her orgasm building at a rapid pace. And just when she thought she couldn’t handle anymore, she felt his hands slip between them and find her core, his thumbing rubbing her clit so expertly that her moans of his grew louder. Combined with his hot breath in her hear, as he demanded she let go for him, Sydney could feel herself succumbing to sensations that overwhelmed her. It was the word soulmate that had her whimpering, god, the way he growled them hungrily had a prickle of fear shot down her spine. However, it was quickly overwhelmed by the haze of lust that surround here’d and just like that she came, hard. “Ezra!” She all but screamed as felt herself let go and succumb to the pleasure. “oh, god” Syd moaned out as she gripped his shoulders tighter and the sheer fact that she had come the exact moment he used that ill-fated word was enough to have her panic. If he hadn’t been holding onto her and wasn’t buried inside of her still thrusting, she’d have scrambled away from him by now. Her chest heaved as she tried to catch her breath, her head resting on his shoulder because she coudn’t quite look at him just yet. The way he had growled those words in her hear still echoed in her mind and Syd got the feeling that running away from him was no longer an option. Not because she didn’t want to run, she very much wanted to but because she was sense that Ezra wouldn’t let her get so far.
Ezra was more than sure that Sydney was going to balk at his words. She’d already made it clear that she didn’t want anything to do with him; trying to push him away by sending him that angry text message earlier. The words he read was still there; fresh in his mind. She didn’t want him, she’d made herself clear, and yet, as she grabbed on to him while his body moved as one with hers, he knew that she was lying. His soulmate wouldn’t be reacting to his touch in the manner that she did, if she truly hated him. No, he couldn’t let her go, he never would. She was his other half, the one who was born to complete him. How could he even fathom the idea of living life without her? That was an impossibility. Others might be able to do it, but not Ezra. He could already tell that he would always need her, yearn for her, so again, if he had to fuck her until she was too tired to run, he would gladly do it. He could feel her climax reaching its by the way her sweet pussy clenched around his cock with every thrust, and soon after he growled out his demand, he felt her letting go. Holding back had never been more difficult than it was in this moment, as her channel pulsated around his cock, trying to draw out his own climax, but he was far from done with her. All of his patience from having to wait for her was gone. Now that he was here, buried within her slick heat, he wanted more, he needed her to remember that only he could make her feel this way. Not letting her go just yet, he continued to move within her; drawing out her release even further.
Once the brunette was a little calmer, Ezra drew back, his lips finding hers once again; tongue doing a little battle with hers for a few moments, greedily exploring the cavern of her mouth. “I’m not done with you yet.” He murmured against her lips, drawing out and then stripping his shirt and jeans; baring his body to her. His cock was hard as a rock, standing tall, ready for more of her. Not wanting Sydney to think that she could run anywhere, he moved back to her, arms reaching out and sweeping her off the dining table; making sure that her legs were securely wrapped around his waist. His mouth found the crook of her neck, suckling on the soft skin there as he journeyed to what he figured had to be her bedroom. He didn’t even know how he managed to get them there without bumping into anything, but he did so easily. Finding her bed, he sat down; resting his back on the headboard and allowing her to rest her weight on him to where she was now on top. His mouth once again found hers kissing her deeply, his hands trailing along her smooth skin, teeth nipping at her bottom lip. “God, you have no idea how much I’ve hungered for you.” He growled, right before he shifted a little, lining his erection along her entrance and thrusting up to enter her. A guttural groan left him feeling her wet heat surrounding him. “Ride me and cum again.” He demanded, a heavy hand landing on her ass, groping at the flesh there as he urged her movements. The attention that he’d been giving her lips had now been diverted to her neck, his teeth sinking into the delicate skin, leaving his mark as he helped her to ride him.
Sydney wondered if her insatiable lust for him came from the one thing she didn’t want. It had be it right? She enjoyed sex as much the next person but sex had never felt this good, she had never felt this all-consuming need for anyone. She almost wished she had slapped him for his audacity to grab her in that manner, because now that she had gotten a taste of him, she knew she’d ache for him all the time. She wondered if he’d done this on purpose, as if Ezra had known that of her desires for him and somehow read them from her mind and was now using them against her. He hadn’t read her mind of course but he certainly was reading her body’s reactions as he continued to fuck her. As he took her hard and fast, her walls gripped him as if to hold him there forever, her moans and his name spilling from her lips. Until his hands found her sensitive clit and then he said that one word she dreaded but yet somehow had her climax so intently, she could feel the ripples of her pleasure still coursing through her. Ezra still hadn’t eased up, she felt him moving inside of her and her orgasm intensified until she screamed his name. Her hands gripping his shoulder as she clung to him with arms and legs as if she were holding on for her very life.
Sydney did note that Ezra had not cum, but she didn’t get a chance to speak when suddenly he pulled back and their lips met in another dizzying kiss. Her mouth opening for him instantly and once their tongues collided. His next words had her freeze, but a thrill shot down her spine as she realized what was to come, she’d still have more of him until he found his own release. She almost whimpered when he moved away to strip his clothing and her green hues darkened as she took in his glorious naked form before lowering to his still rock hard cock that a fresh wave of arousal washed over her again. Her hands itched to touch those muscles on his shoulders, his chest, and those abs. But before she could make a move, Ezra swiftly lifted her from the table and her legs wrapped around him instantly, feeling him walking towards her bedroom. Her legs were jello from her first orgasm but Sydney wanted more, she too had not had her fill of this man as she clung to him as he carried her. Feeling his mouth nibble on her neck, Syd was sure he had left his fair share of markings on her. Normally, she would have been annoyed but it was becoming obvious she’d let him do whatever he wanted to her. The feeling of being this close to him and being so desired by was something Sydney didn’t want to lose just yet.Soon she found herself seated on top of him, her hands making work to touch him wherever she could as their lips met in another hungry kiss, “show me” Sydney murmured in return, meeting his gaze for a split second just as she felt him once more at her entrance and then in fluid motion he was inside of her, she moaned while hearing his guttural groan that only sent sparks of desire through her. The sound was so primal that it had her growing wetter if possible combined with his demand that she ride him. her nerves appeared but as the desire took over her once more, and Ezra’s lips found her skin she finally moved. Her hips moving over his thick length and each time she lifted herself and moved down him, her moans become continuous feeling the tip of his cock reach even deeper inside of her. As she moved above him her nerves vanished until she was riding him to her heart’s content, shutting her eyes at the pleasure that coursed through her entire being but between his mouth moving over her skin, his large hand on her ass, and his hips thrusting upwards to meet hers. Sydney could feel herself growing closer to her climax, her eyes opened and her fingers dug into the his thighs, “Oh, god…I’m so close.” She breathed out harshly, “Ezra..I need…” She was not quite sure how to name what she wanted but she needed something to finally reach her crescendo that she desperately wanted.
The intensity of his hunger for Sydney couldn’t easily be masked and he honestly didn’t care about hiding the fact that Ezra burned for his soulmate. Why should he feel that way when she was always on his mind? Everyday, when he woke up, the first face that he would see was hers. And the most pathetic part of all this was, she wasn’t even with him. He was alone during that time, and yet, her sweet smile greeted him. He yearned for her almost to the point of insanity. Day after day, he would have to find release in the shower while he took his morning showers because when he closed his eyes, all kinds of erotic images displayed itself across his vision. With all that torture he’d been forced to endure, his finesse was completely gone now that she was here. He wanted her so badly that he stopped himself from releasing just so he could bring her to climax again and again. He needed her to remember this night and how only he could bring her this much pleasure. Then maybe she could forget about running from him and give in to what they both knew was inevitable. They belonged together, he knew it, he was just waiting for her to finally accept that conclusion. He wasn’t asking her for the world, she already was his everything. He simply wanted her to be there for her, to complete what she lacked and vice versa, and until he got what he wanted, he was not going to stop pursuing her. Even if he had to use sex to make her submit. Not that having sex with her was a chore, definitely the opposite of that.
It was getting harder and harder for him to stop his release as he felt her pussy tightly clenched around his cock. As she rode him, his hands dug into the softness of her plump ass, forcing her to take all of his length as she slammed into him. Moans were emitted from the both of them as the rhythm of their bodies moving together as one continued. Ezra could hear her telling him that she was close and that she needed something. Her words forced him to tear his mouth from her neck moments later, head lowering to take a nipple into his mouth. He lightly bit into it before soothing the sting with his tongue. While his mouth was busy lavishing attention between both her breasts, he lowered a hand down to her slick core, finding the sensitive nub. His thumb grazed her clit over and over, hips shifting up to fuck her deeper as she rode him. He knew she was close; she was so wet, that he could hear the squelching noises her pussy made when their lower halves would meet. “Cum for me, Syd…” He growled, feeling his own end coming close. His head lowered again, once more claiming her rose colored nipple with his mouth, suckling and biting on it all the while, his thumb never relented, rolling and massaging at her clit waiting for her to find her release.
If Sydney were being honest she had no idea such a hunger could even exist for another person, she knew what lust felt like of course but this felt as if something beyond just lust. Hell, even hunger seemed to be inadequate of a word to describe what she was experiencing with Ezra. The hum of pleasure that coursed through her body had no end in sight, and this man beneath her was overwhelming her senses to the point where she could think or feel nothing but him. Time didn’t exist and neither the outside world, just Ezra and all that he made her feel that sometimes Sydney wanted to forget just about everything but Ezra. Now as she rode him to her heart’s content, Sydney also wished she was able to push all the awful memories she had of her childhood aside and let herself be with this man. Would it be so bad if she let herself be happy with him? even if things between them didn’t last for very long, maybe she could be happy for the short time she did have with Ezra. Sydney forced herself to push away her worries, wanting to just get lost in him for tonight and the boundless pleasure he was giving her. Because she knew herself enough to know this would not happen again., she’d let only herself tonight with him.
Sydney’s tempo increased as she moved up and down on his cock bit more boldly than she would have dared to before. Her earlier nervousness now fled her mind and the only thing remained was molting pleasure that she was she would just drown in it and in Ezra. From the way he was moaning and groaning, she had a feeling she was doing something right, as she too could not control her own noises. Her walls began clamping him harder and Syd felt her climax slowly building threatening to crash and then when she pleaded she needed a little more to peak. She felt Ezra promptly react, his mouth lowered to her sensitive breasts that his name left her lips once more while she felt his hand slid down to find her still sensitive nub once more. Her moans grew deeper, “God, yes, just like that.” she moaned out, liquid sensations fluttered inside of her stomach, as Ezra’s hips slammed upwards causing him to slid deeper inside of her. Now, the pleasure had become far too much all her senses in overdrive thanks to his thrusts, his hands and that sinful mouth of his that closed over her nipple. Sydney’s hips began moving a bit more frantically until she felt his thumb pressed down onto her clit combined with his growling command, then she exploded. “Oh, Ezra!” His name more of piercing scream as she felt her orgasm wash over her once more, her fluids milking his cock as she rotated her hips gently for a few months until she felt her body go limp. She felt herself lean into him, her upper body pressed up against his smooth bare chest, her own chest heaving as she tried to catch her breath. Sydney was sure that by now her body had no energy left to move, but she stayed still as she still felt him inside of her. Her face nestling into his shoulder, “You didn’t come?” she asked breathlessly against his skin. “Want me to take care of…that for you?” she asked a moment later, as her hands slid down his rock-hard abs until they hovered over his pelvis. Fingers digging into the smooth hard tanned skin.
Ezra could feel his need rising, his balls tightening in anticipation as he felt Sydney’s warm and wet pussy tightening around his cock with every thrust. He wanted to let go so badly, to finally feel a release after all of the time he’d spent yearning to be with her, but he couldn’t do that, not yet at least, not until he knew that she’d let go and cum for him. God, her moans and the easy way she was taking her pleasure; all of that was a huge turn on for him. “Let go, Syd…” He insisted, his tone coaxing instead of demanding now. When she finally did, he was left surprised at how he was still able to hold back from climaxing. His hunger for her have yet to be sated, and as she teased him, her remark coming out like a taunt, he leapt into action; moving them so that she was on all fours. He leaned forward then, his hard body covering her lithe one from the back, lips grazing the shell of her left ear. “I’m not done with you yet, Syd. This is far from over.” He said seductively, before taking a lobe into his mouth and giving it a suckle.
Then, he drew back, allowing his right hand to trail over her spine then down to her curvy ass, separating them and taking in the sight of her wet pussy. “Fuck, that’s the sexiest sight I’ve ever seen…” He groaned feeling his hunger rising once more. Not wanting to wait any longer, he lined his cock up to her wet slit and entered her in a single stroke. “So fucking tight…” Her pussy gripped his length like a vice and because he couldn’t stop his desire, he began moving, thrusting into her hard and fast. His hands were now situated on her hips, fingers digging into her ivory skin, uncaring of the fact that he might leave a bruise there. This time, he could feel his end approaching, goosebumps rising as he continued to fuck her harder. “I need you to cum again.” He demanded, his right hand shifting around, fingers finding her sensitive nub once more where he rolled and pinched it to urge her along. His heart was hammering inside his chest, and he didn’t know how much longer he could hold on. He hadn’t felt this much pleasure in a long time, if not ever and his need to find satisfaction was bordering on insanity by this point.
It was a bit insane how on how her body bent to Ezra’s will, the moment he ordered her to cum for him, her body obeyed. Sydney climaxed with such a force that still had her body humming from the aftershocks. Her walls still gripping him as he was still hot and hard inside of her, that another throaty moan left her lips. He didn’t give her a chance to recover, as soon she found herself flipped until she was on her knees and hands, her eyes widening at the new position but pleasure rocked her core when Ezra covered her body and she felt his hot breath in her ear, causing a soft whimper to leave her lips. His words already making her so incredibly wet while leaving her aching once more but Syd had no idea how much more pleasure her body could take. Her breathing grew shallow as anticipation had her tense up momentarily when she felt his hands slid down from her spine to her ass. She felt him move away for a few seconds and her hands curled around the sheets at his words, fresh arousal washing over her yet again. “Ezra please..” she moaned out needing him inside of her and then she felt him, the tip of his cock sliding along her entrance and then he was inside of her that she moaned his name. Then he moved. Her eyes widened as he thrust into her so hard, she felt the earth tilt on its axis, her hands gripping the sheets as his hands held her hips in an iron grip she was sure there was going to be bruises on her skin the next day.
Her moans didn’t cease the slights as she took her roughly, each time he pulled out and pushed inside of her, her walls held him in a vice-like grip. His demand that she come again, had her moaning and her body moved to obey him once more, the pleasure heightening and the familiar sensation in the pit of her stomach appeared once more. Especially, when his fingers found their way to her clit. her folds still wet, his name fell from her lips like prayer as if that’s all her brain knew was just his name. But the moment she felt his fingers pinched her clit hard enough and she felt him thrust into her once more, Sydney crested, her walls clamping his length once more. This time she screamed his name, trying to muffle the sound but she had no idea if she succeeded as pure ecstasy shot through her. Her body humming and buzzing of the feeling that followed right after she had peaked. She could feel her body go limp completely, her arms and legs now useless as she felt him moving inside of her still. It was a good thing Ezra still held onto her because she was sure she would have collapsed on the bed. “Oh my god..” she groaned out.
Ezra knew that he wouldn’t be able to last much longer. If he had to do that, he might just end up with a heart attack, but in the same breath, he wasn’t the kind of lover to leave his partner wanting, so he waited and continued to thrust into Sydney, letting his fingers roll her clit in time with his movements. When she finally let go, he let out a guttural growl, head thrown back and with one last thrust, he held her lower half close to his and came hard. Every muscle in his body ached, he was exhausted, so the first thing he did was pull his soulmate down onto the bed, and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. Given the chance, he would keep fucking her all night, maybe that would tire her out enough so she wouldn’t try to push him away. The woman was beyond stubborn, and despite knowing that he would never let her go, she still tried to tell him that she never wanted to see him again. That part hurt like a bitch. He wasn’t used to handling rejection. Everything he wanted was given to him, and now to know that the woman he was born to complete didn’t want him, that was something he simply couldn’t handle. Sure, he’d handled it badly, but after all of his efforts; trying to give her space and come to him on her own, he didn’t see any other way out. He felt rather badly for having manhandled her earlier; this was not what he’d envisioned their first time to be like. As the thought crossed his mind, a sigh left him, he pulled her even closer then and placed a kiss on her forehead. “Are you okay?” He asked, his tone somber and apologetic. “I’m sorry if I hurt you. I didn’t mean to.”
Seconds after Sydney climaxed she felt Ezra let go of his own and a soft moan left her lips as she felt him hot and wet inside of her and then his guttural groan that had Sydney’s breath hitch. Her chest heaving from the pleasure that was still coursing through her body and as she felt his body lean over her. Then seconds later, Sydney felt him lower both of them to the bed and his arms still around her as it had been before. As the aftershocks of her orgasm began disappearing, her brain took over immediately, wanting to scramble away from being having him hold her. More so, because while Sydney did not want to move from his arms, she didn’t want him to get the wrong idea. This still did not change anything, the brunette was nowhere near ready to start anything with her soulmate. The very word made her flinch but it had still crossed her mind regardless. As Sydney laid there she could feel his own haggard breathing, she shifted in his arms hoping to release his hold on her. But her own body was so exhausted and spent that she was sure tomorrow she’d be waking up aching everywhere, especially between her legs. Though the pain was the least of her concern, as she felt Ezra’s lips press against her forehead, the act too intimate that she had to fight the urge to physically push him away. His question, however, did make her freeze. Was he apologize for her physical pain? Or was he apologizing for the way he had barged in and manhandled her? “You didn’t.” She murmured back to him, her heart still pounding, “You shouldn’t have manhandled me, but I’m not angry.” She said a few seconds later, because how can she be angry when he had stopped and asked her? Ezra still asked for consent and that was more than enough for Sydney. However, this time she did shift out of his grip. “But I need to be alone right now, so I think you should go.” She added, hating herself as the words left her mouth. “Please?”
Ezra felt badly for how he reacted. He never wanted to hurt Sydney and yet, he did it anyway. In his frustration, he’d hurt her and he had no one to blame but himself. This being the first rejection he’d received, he couldn’t take it and before he could think of the consequences, he’d reacted. He couldn’t be more ashamed of himself, and if there was a way that he could punish himself for what he did, he would do it. His brows were pinched together as he waited for her answer, and when she spoke, he found himself breathing out a sigh of relief. At least she wasn’t angry; which he supposed was a bit of a relief. It didn’t mean that he was off the hook however. In fact, she had asked him to leave. There was a part of him that wanted to reject her request, but he knew that he shouldn’t push her further. “Okay, I’ll leave you to your thoughts,” He told her, but before he stood to leave, he pulled her close, making sure that she was looking at him as he spoke his next words, “but only for tonight. Come tomorrow morning, I’ll be here, waiting for you. You might think you can push me away, Syd, but I’m not giving up on us. I deserve a chance to prove you wrong, to show you that we could be great together. You can’t run from me, not now, not ever.” His lips covered hers then and he kissed her ferociously, needing her to remember what they shared tonight and the lengths he would go through to secure her affections. Their mouths lingered together and when breathing became a necessity, he pulled back and said, “Have a good night. Dream of me.” After giving her kiss swollen lips another gentle peck, he got up and exited her bedroom. Once dressed, he left her residence and headed home; his mind already thinking of his next plan of action.
COMPLETED
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Rumor Has It: a cracky reylo ficlet wherein Rey catches the Supreme Leader reading a trashy tabloid about their maybe-bond.
Maybe they should be used to it by now—the bond that connects them through the Force. But still, each time it opens across the Galaxy, it manages to take them by surprise.
This time is no different, only Kylo is so engrossed in the article displayed on his datapad that he doesn’t realize Rey is there until she sighs—loudly and pointedly—from underneath the thin blanket that covers the steel framed bed on her side of the bond.
Kylo jumps at the sound and fumbles with the buttons on the display, dropping the datapad to the ground in the process.
Rey turns to glare at him, fully prepared to lecture him—again—on the pattern of their planets’ shifting sleep cycles, but she stops short when she catches sight of his fumbling hands and burning cheeks.
It’s a lovely shade of red, really, not unlike the spitting crimson of his saber, and it’s slowly creeping from the apples of his cheeks to the tips of his ears, which just barely stick out from under his new Supreme Leader haircut.
Rey moves to a sitting position and narrows her eyes.
“What were you doing?”
She swears he goes a shade redder as he finally manages to snatch the datapad from the floor and power the screen off.
“Nothing,” he replies coolly, a failed attempt at nonchalance. “What—what are you doing?”
- Continue reading below the cut or on Ao3 -
“Sleeping,” Rey answers dryly. “Or trying to at least. You see, different planets have different light cycles. Mine is approximately—”
“Four hours and thirty-six minutes ahead of mine,” he cuts in. “Yes, you’ve told me.”
“And yet here you are, clattering around like a luggabeast.”
“I wasn’t clattering, I was…” He trails off, eyes roaming to the ceiling and then to the floor.
“You were…” Rey prompts.
He pauses, mouth opening, then closing once before opening again.
“Reading,” he finally says, a bit faintly.
“Reading.”
“Yes, reading.”
And the flush is back in full force. Only this time, it spreads down his neck to the sliver of chest Rey can see just above the collar of his night shirt—black as space, as if he would dare wear any other color.
Rey’s gaze moves between that flush and the datapad clutched tight in his hands. He seems downright uncomfortable, fidgety even. Something she’s never seen him be before. Intense? Yes. Shirtless and unabashed? Also yes. But embarrassed? That one is new.
“Let’s hear it then,” she says, amused—and perhaps a little intrigued—by the idea of a flustered Kylo Ren. “It’s the least you could do, now that I’m awake.”
“No,” he blanches. “It’s, uh, it’s just damage reports. From Hux. Very dry, lots of numbers. Bore you to death.”
“Or to sleep?” Rey offers, an impish grin rising on her lips.
Ben’s grip tightens around the datapad and he runs a nervous hand through his hair, though his lips remain firmly shut.
“You’re hiding something,” she says, placing one bare foot on the floor. “What is it?”
“Nothing. It’s—just reports, like I said. Classified information.”
Her other foot comes to rest next to the other one, freeing her legs from the blanket.
“Liar.”
She stands.
“Really, Rey, I’d rather not do this,” he implores as he takes a step back from her.
“And I rather would,” she replies a second before she pounces, arms raised and hands outstretched.
She’s faster and lighter and she has the element of surprise, but still he manages to wrench the datapad from her grip half a breath after her fingers close around it.
He lifts it in the air, too far above her head for her to reach, so she ducks down instead, swiping one leg across the back of both his knees so that he falls to the ground in a heap. Rey snatches the datapad and darts to the other side of the room before he has a chance to move.
“Rey,” he warns with all the menace of a porg’s call as he slowly gets to his feet.
But she’s already powering up the screen, heart beating fast and a triumphant smile on her face.
She’s really quite pleased with herself if she’s being honest, but the smug satisfaction quickly dies as she reads the words written across the top of the page:
LOVE ON THE BATTLEFIELD: Are Kylo Ren and Rey of Jakku MORE than Enemies? A Star-Crossed Story For the Ages.
“What is this?” she manages to croak.
Ben sighs as he runs another hand through his hair.
“It’s an article.”
Rey’s eyes flit briefly to his.
“About you. And about me. About—about us?”
Now it’s her turn to flush. She can practically feel the splotchy redness rising on her face.
“It’s just gossip, silly rumors. You shouldn’t read it—”
“Oh, I’m reading it,” she exclaims. “If people are writing things about me, about us, then I should know what they’re saying.”
He sighs again, a dramatic thing that makes his shoulders sag.
“Fine,” he relents, crossing his arms. “I obviously can’t stop you. Be my guest.”
Rey resists the urge to roll her eyes before turning her gaze once more to the glowing datapad in her hands. And then she starts to read:
“The Galaxy’s citizens have watched with interest as the First Order has grown from a small political faction to an all-powerful war machine determined to unite the planets in our system under the rule of a singular leader, of the supreme variety—”
“Do you really need to read it out loud?” Ben interjects.
Rey fixes him with a stare. “I clearly interrupted you, I thought you might like to hear how it ends.”
Ben tips his head to the ceiling, shaking it slightly before gesturing for her to continue.
“While the regime has so far managed to secure control of most planets in the Mid Rim—only because we weren’t prepared for an attack of that size—"
“—It’s not my fault you’re using outdated tech and half-gutted speeders—”
“—Actually, it is! Or have you forgotten the fact that you destroyed our base?”
“That was Snoke’s call, not mi—"
“—As if you wouldn’t have done the same—"
“—and we’ve so far managed to avoid direct contact with your new base if you haven’t noticed--"
“—far be it from me to question the Supreme Leader’s military strategy—"
“—I don’t give a kriff about strategy, I’m trying to keep you alive!”
Rey’s next words die on her lips as Ben's seem to echo off the walls of his chambers and across the bond. She licks her lips, suddenly unsure what to say, but Ben takes a single solid breath, ribs expanding and constricting under his shirt as he gestures weakly to the datapad.
“Just—keep reading.”
Rey clears her throat and begins a bit shakily:
“It hasn’t been the smoothest of flying for newly minted Supreme Leader Kylo Ren. His opposition comes in the form of a small, but mighty group of individuals known as the Resistance—headed up by none other than the Supreme Leader’s mother herself, General Leia Organa. She’s joined by fresh faced Rey of Jakku, otherwise known as the Last Jedi.
Kylo and Rey have come to blows no less than three times, with the former scavenger directly contributing to the First Order’s defeat on Starkiller Base. There’s no denying that sparks seem to be flying between the rivals—and not only from their lightsabers.” Rey looks up from the datapad. “What does that mean? ‘Sparks seem to be flying’?”
Ben only shakes his head. “Just read.”
“Though there have been rumors of a familial connection between the two—” Rey scoffs. “What, like we’re sisters?”
Ben’s lips spread into a smile—an actual smile with dimples and crinkles around the eyes that Rey tries very hard not to notice.
“Brother and sister,” he corrects. “But yes, something like that. Just keep going.”
“—But those closest to the Supreme Leader say otherwise. ‘He’s totally gaga for the sand rat,’ says one unnamed source. ‘It’s embarrassing, really, not to mention traitorous given her allegiance to the very group of terrorists the First Order is working to eradicate.’”
“Terrorists?” Rey scoffs, choosing to ignore the ‘gaga’ comment. “The Resistance is trying to restore order, not dismantle it.”
“As is the First Order,” Ben shoots back.
“Yes, by brute force and with no regard for personal liberties or the sovereignty of already established nations.”
Ben only sighs. They’ve had this conversation before after all. More times than Rey can count.
“Okay, okay. Less talking, more reading. Got it.”
She scrolls further down on the page before continuing, “Another source from the Jedi’s camp disclosed, on the condition of anonymity, that Rey refuses to discuss the series of events which led to her presence on board the Supremacy (a Mega-class Star Dreadnought) where former Supreme Leader Snoke met his untimely end. ‘She comes back to the Resistance—new outfit, hair down, wearing mascara and tries to tell us nothing happened between her and emo space boy. Don’t let the good looks fool you, pal, this brain’s firing on all cylinders and I’m telling you something is up.’”
“I was not wearing mascara,” Rey retorts weakly, making a mental note to murder Poe in the morning.
And is she imagining it or has Ben somehow gotten closer? She could have sworn he was standing on the other side of the room when she started reading. Now he’s close enough for her to count the beauty marks on his face—not that she would. But the point is she could, if for some reason that was something she decided to do.
Ben just stares down at her and his eyes are bright even though the room is dark and his tongue slips out to wet his bottom lip before he speaks.
“Your hair was different,” he says, causing Rey to flush again at the memory.
“It came down when I fell in that creepy darkside hole,” she counters, back straight and hands clenched into fists by her side.
He steps a little closer and Rey catches his scent. Is it possible for someone to smell like the sun when they’re stuck in the endless expanse of space? Rey isn’t sure, but she breathes it in again anyway.
“It looked nice that way.”
Rey swallows. “It—it did?”
“Yes,” he breathes and Rey swears she feels it ghost along her face. “I like it this way too, though,” he continues, raising a hand to tuck a stray lock back behind her ear.
It’s the first time they’ve touched in months. Since the Supremacy, since her hand gripped around his thigh in the midst of battle. It’s barely anything, just a stroke of fingers against her temple, but it lights her nerves on fire and she shivers even though she isn’t cold.
“Are you going to keep reading?”
“What?” Rey asks, then remembering the datapad still gripped in her hand. The article—what did it say? Something about a spark?
“Right,” she clears her throat. “Yes, it seems something is up indeed. The only question is, will the maybe-star crossed lovers find some middle ground to stand (nay, lay) on? Or will this galactic will they/won’t they end in tragedy? It appears the Galaxy will just have to wait and see.”
Silence falls between them as Rey reaches the end of the article. Loud silence in which she’s sure she can hear her own heart beating much too fast. Or is it Ben’s?
“Well,” she says after a moment. “That was ridiculous, wasn’t it?”
Ben doesn’t answer. He just keeps staring down at her with an impossible look on his face and Rey has to try very hard not to step back. Or maybe she has to try not to step forward, she isn’t quite sure.
“Just gossip,” she continues, a bit hysterically. “Like you said. Silly rumors.”
Ben steps closer, closing what little space was left between them. She has to crane her neck to see into his eyes and is his skin always so warm? His hand was—that night on Ahch-To—but she can feel it emanating from his chest now. A delicious heat that jumps from his skin to hers and before she can stop herself, she shivers again.
Rey’s breath feels stuck in her throat as Ben tilts his head to the side, the way he once did when he still wore a mask.
“And what if it isn’t?” he asks. “Just rumors, that is.”
“It--,” she tries, stopping to force air into her lungs. “It would be a very bad idea.”
Ben’s lips quirk around the edges.
“The worst.”
“We’d probably end up killing each other, blowing up the other’s ship or something.”
“It does seem likely.”
“But—”
“—But?”
And he is very close now. Too close. Closer maybe than she’s ever been to another person. She waits for her instincts to kick in—the ones that tell her to fight or run or both, but they lay dormant, perfectly at ease in whatever part of her brain they live in.
So when he dips his head to brush his lips against hers, she doesn’t move away. She leans in to bring him that much closer.
His lips are warm against hers and even if they don’t quite know what they’re doing, they manage to find a rhythm anyway. A push and pull—sweet and frantic, wet and warm. Perfect.
The bond pulses, the Force hums around them, and somewhere on the floor, beneath a growing pile of clothes, the light from a datapad flickers and goes out.
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In My Silence
Author: KatEyes224
Rating: R
Timeline: Post-This, but before Plus One
A/N: This story wouldn’t have seen the light of day were it not for a couple of very important people. Namely @mldrgrl, who didn’t ever let me give up on it, and @sunflowerseedsandscience and @mangokiwitropicalswirl who offer their unwavering support even when I don’t deserve it.
She loses him somewhere in the kitchen department, letting him disappear from her line of sight while she lingers, waylaid by a particularly handsome backsplash. Which they absolutely do not need, she reasons after three solid minutes of arguing with herself before finally moving on. But she’d been wanting to update the kitchen since they’d first bought the house; bullet-riddled drywall, she figures, is as good an excuse as any. And their ridiculously expensive homeowners’ policy is apparently finally going to pay off, so they may as well take advantage.
By the time Scully wanders over to the dining area to check out the table they’d picked out together online, she knows Mulder has probably given up on trying to find her. He stubbornly refuses to backtrack at IKEA, claiming it only gets him more turned around. And despite his alleged accrual of Indian Guides merit badges, the proof of which Scully has yet to see, he scoffs at conventional wilderness survival skills like staying put and waiting for help to come to him whenever he gets lost. They’d agreed in the car ahead of time to meet up at the cafe on the second floor if they got separated, so Scully starts heading that direction.
She immediately suspects ulterior motives. Mulder has once again managed to plan this outing to take place around lunchtime, and Scully assumes that his timing is calculated so that he can satiate his unaccountable love of Swedish meatballs.
Meandering through a maze of living room and bedroom furniture, Scully consciously quells the urge to quicken her pace when she finds herself walking past bunk beds and brightly colored children’s rooms, college corner desks and bins of extra-long twin bed sheets.
William would be looking at colleges this year, wouldn’t he? Studying for his SATs. Maybe courting college scouts for water polo or basketball or baseball. Or maybe he’d been an academic, in math league or on the debate team or winner of the science fair. Or maybe he’d been a thespian, or maybe he’d been a loner, or, or, or...
Next to a wall of framed mirrors, Scully closes her eyes against row upon row of her own fractured reflections and breathes deeply through her nose, trying to banish the onslaught of potential iterations of her son as quickly as they apparate. Fifteen years later and he is still every dark-haired, long-limbed boy she sees out of the corner of her eye until she dares to look twice.
William has never stopped being a residual image that appears, Turin-like, in every negative space in her meticulously constructed world. But Scully has learned to allow herself to feel the ebb and flow of both her guilt and her gratitude in these moments. Cognitive dissonance, if nothing else, at least drowns out all the other voices in her head; the ones that whisper about what she did to Mulder when she left him to wrestle with their ghosts all alone in their drafty old house, instead of what she did to William when she gave him away to a future without her, perilous and uncertain.
She cannot, however, stop herself from intentionally averting her gaze when she passes by the children’s play area just outside the IKEA cafe, where a very pregnant mother is loudly compromising with her young son for just five more minutes, and then it’s time to go. Scully squeezes her eyes shut as the woman cradles her swollen belly with one hand and digs the other into the small of her back.
Some reminders still hurt more than others.
She spots Mulder near the front of the line queued to order and is just to about to call out to him when another voice beats her to the punch.
“Mulder? Fox Mulder?”
Mulder turns to the source of the voice, a woman standing several people behind him in line, and Scully sees him quirk a smile of recognition that reaches all the way to his eyes.
She freezes, watching the interaction unfold from a distance with an almost clinically detached interest. Mulder’s social circle, she knows, has dwindled over the years to just a handful of people, mostly acquaintances. As she racks her brain to place this woman, Scully realizes with a pang of regret that she has comprised the bulk of that handful for the last decade or more. And, until recently, she had been doing her level best to leave Mulder behind.
She notices the woman’s blonde hair first, a lustrous mane that falls in golden waves around slender, tanned shoulders. Not a hint of gray, Scully discerns, biting her lip so hard it nearly bleeds.
Mulder lets the few people between them go in front of him until he and the mystery woman are standing next to one another in line. He crosses his arms as they begin to converse, and Scully flushes hotly as she takes note of a typical Mulder maneuver when he dips his head and leans into her space so that he can hear her better. At one point, the woman turns into him to allow the person behind her to go ahead, and Scully catches a glimpse of her profile. A deep dimple appears in the woman’s cheek as she laughs at something Mulder says.
The two must reach a mutual decision to just order their food together because they finally approach the same register but pay separately. They then head over to a nearby table where a bored-looking blond boy of about six or seven in a baseball uniform is sitting.
Making her way closer, Scully takes in the woman’s tall, fit figure and makeup-free face. She has a wide, easy smile, which she unabashedly flashes up at Mulder as they continue talking.
As Scully nears, she begins to hear snippets of conversation.
“-eb’s little brother is already outgrowing the toddler bed, so we’re here looking at bunk beds. The boys are really excited about the idea of bunk beds, aren’t you, Caleb?”
Caleb smiles tightly and nods, obliging his mother, and throws his small fist into his baseball glove a few more times.
Mulder bends down, muscular arms resting lightly on his bent knees, looking up into the boy’s eyes. Someplace deep within Scully’s chest starts to ache, the twinge old and familiar. Mulder has always been wonderful with children, has always given due deference to their personhood no matter their age.
It was one of those things about him that Scully had always thought would have made him a wonderful father.
“What position do you play, Caleb?” she hears Mulder ask.
Caleb’s little boy voice is swallowed by the cacophony of knives and forks clinking against plastic plates and soda machines spitting ice into cups, and Scully finds herself leaning forward slightly as she continues towards their table, straining to hear.
“-na learn how to pitch.”
Mulder nods and glances up at the boy’s mother before meeting Caleb’s eyes again.
“You know, I pitched a couple of years. I used to be good at curveballs and changeups. But you’re gonna have to practice a lot if you want to be a pitcher. You think you can do that?”
Caleb nods down at Mulder, solemn.
The woman tugs gently at the bill of her son’s baseball cap. “I can’t keep him away from the baseball diamond. And if he’s not there he wants to be at the batting cages.”
Mulder’s smile widens. “I was the same way when I was his age.”
Scully sees the woman’s eyes sweep over her partner’s frame appreciatively. “Yeah, I’m sure.”
Caleb stares at Mulder now with naked admiration. “Who’s your favorite pitcher? Mine’s Zach Britton.”
Mulder chuckles. “Britton’s pretty good. I’m a Yankees fan, myself. So I’m liking Severino these days.”
The boy wrinkles his nose. “Ewwww, the Yankees? Traitor.”
Mulder and the woman both laugh.
“Well, maybe one day…” his mother cocks her head, biting her lip as she glances between her son and Mulder, “Mulder here can show you how to throw a curveball, Caleb.”
Mulder chuffs as he rises, crossing his arms even more tightly across his broad chest as a blush creeping over his features. “I’d probably end up in the hospital if I tried to throw a curveball these days, Annie.”
“Oh, I don’t know,” Annie says, reaching a tentative hand out and wrapping it around Mulder’s right bicep. “You look like you’re in pretty good shape to me.”
Scully, done observing, quickens her pace and plasters a smile on. “Mulder,” she says, still several feet away. “Here you are.”
Mulder startles, jerking his arm from Annie’s grasp. “Scully, hey. This is, uh, you remember, right? Annie. Anne. Anne Woodward. She was, uh, she was…”
A look of dawning comprehension flits its way over Annie’s face as she gauges Mulder’s stammering reaction with Scully’s sudden appearance. Annie glances down at Mulder’s left ring finger, then Scully’s, before she brings her eyes back up to Scully’s.
Subtle, Scully thinks. “No, I don’t think I’ve had the pleasure,” she says instead, smiling wider but barely unable to unclench her teeth. The woman is even more stunning up close. Glowing jade-green eyes and full lips. Gorgeous body.
Jesus.
Scully holds her hand out. “I’m Dana-”
Annie reaches out to shake it firmly. “Agent Scully. I know. You probably don’t recognize me, but I was at Agent Mulder’s house last weekend. I’m an investigative technician with the Bureau. I was part of the team mobilized to collect evidence after the Purlieu incident last week.” She drops Scully’s hand. “Crazy stuff.”
Combing through her memory of the multitudinous faces and comings and goings of all the investigators that had torn their house apart for almost 48 hours, Scully thinks she might remember a blonde ponytail poking out of an FBI cap, gathering evidence. Scully had been in and out of their house herself during those few days, giving multiple statements to multiple agencies, appearing before a review panel.
“Right. Thanks for your help on that,” Scully says. “Agent Mulder’s house,” she emphasizes, “is quite literally a disaster, as you know, so I told him I’d help him pick out some replacement furniture. And I owe him a table.”
Mulder’s brow furrows. He starts to interject, but Scully shoots him a pointed glance. His mouth slams shut, but the confused crease in his forehead deepens.
Just then, Annie’s order number is called, then Mulder’s. Scully makes a show of looking at her watch, clearing her throat.
“Mulder, I’ll just go get the stuff from the warehouse and meet you at the car, okay? You can drop me off at my place on your way home.”
Scully turns and walks away before he has a chance to respond. She throws one last glance over her shoulder and swallows past the lump that rises in her throat as Annie beams up at Mulder. Scully nearly bumps right into the pregnant mother still arguing with her obstinate son as she stumbles towards the elevators.
xxx
As she waits for Mulder in the car, the silence humid and thick, Scully’s memory calls to mind an instance when she was quite young, perhaps ten or twelve years old, when her mother had driven her daughters to the coast after picking them up from school one afternoon. Maggie had stared out the windshield at the crashing surf until Melissa had finally asked what they were doing there. Maggie had blinked, glanced in the rearview mirror, and confessed to her daughters that she was jealous. She was jealous of the sea for the sway it held over her husband.
As a girl, Scully had been stunned, and had said as much. She was surprised at her mother’s confessing such a thing, for wasn’t envy one of the seven deadly sins?
“Oh, Dana,” her mother had explained with a sad smile, as she’d turned her gaze away from her daughter and back to the green-blue curve of the horizon, “jealousy and envy are not the same thing. Envy is when you covet something of someone else’s that doesn’t belong to you. Jealousy is longing for what’s already yours.”
It’s taken years, but in the cabin of Mulder’s pickup, waiting for him to amble outof the store, Scully finally thinks she understands the distinction.
Apart from herself, Scully knows, Mulder has led such a loveless existence. But hasn’t she also done her best, even unwittingly, to ensure that his histrionic cycle of love and loss just keeps going, ad infinitum? Maybe Mulder has come to believe that a life with Scully is what he has earned, part of his unending doomed lot in life. To be loved by a woman who was not supposed to be able to bear him any children. To be loved by a woman who was destined to give him an impossible son only to give him away.
Scully is startled out of her reverie when Mulder opens the driver’s side door and slams it behind himself. He lets the silence stretch in the cab before speaking.
“What the fuck was that, Scully?”
“You tell me,” she answers, hating how petulant she sounds.
“Scully…” Mulder’s voice is low, dangerous. He twists the keys in the ignition with a jerk of his wrist and pulls out of the parking space. “Come on. You know me better than that.”
Scully doesn't respond. Does she know better? She and Mulder hadn’t really talked about where things were headed between them after the terrorist attack at the Ziggurat in Texas. She’d started staying over at the house with him more and more since her latest hospital stay, after her bout of unexplainable seizures. Remembering the surprisingly new heft of Mulder above her, the way he used their bed frame to leverage the angle of his thrusts, his head between her legs that very morning, she certainly knew where Mulder had been hoping things were heading.
But Scully had always doubted whether Mulder’s known what’s in his own best interests, especially when it came to her.
For her part, she hates herself for needing him as much as she does. He is her fatal flaw, her Achilles heel, the forbidden fruit that has been her undoing. You’d think she’d have learned her lesson by now, but here she is, twenty-five years later, still waging war with herself over him, holding him at arm’s length with one hand while drawing him closer with the other.
Mulder has pulled onto the highway before he starts talking again. There’s a plaintiveness in his voice that Scully can’t remember hearing in years, not since they first started working together. It burns, hearing him trying to convince her of something she knows shouldn’t be plausible, but probably is.
“Annie and I got to talking when she was at the house. She saw my bat and glove in the corner and asked if I was coaching Little League or something.”
Annie.
Annie is tangible. Attainable. And obviously more than willing. She could probably still give Mulder another child, a little sister for her two boys.
Scully refuses to respond, allows the silence to unspool, become uncomfortable. Mulder struggles to fill the void, like he always does.
“I just, I told her I liked baseball, and we got to talking about Caleb, and how-”
“Mulder, I think this was a mistake.”
Mulder quiets. He stares at her profile. “Okay, fine. We’ll go to Pottery Barn.”
“That’s not what I meant and you know it.”
Scully looks out the windshield. She can feel the phantom pressure of Mulder’s jaw clenching and unclenching.
“I think,” she begins, glancing at him and pressing on when Mulder closes his eyes, “I think we may be rushing back into this for the wrong reasons.”
“No, Scully.”
“No?” she asks, turning fully in her seat to look at him, incredulous. “No? When have we not been the worst possible option for one another?”
“Scully, where is this coming from?!” Mulder practically shouts at her. “Are you PMSing or something?”
“I’m perimenopausal, Mulder,” she retorts, “and maybe it’s time you started thinking about why we’re even together in the first place. And why we keep continuing to be together when it brings us nothing but heartache.”
Mulder lets another half a mile pass before he speaks again, and the gravel in his voice scrapes her heart raw.
“Are you really that unhappy with me?” he asks quietly, taking the turnoff towards her place.
“Are you really that happy when we’re together?” Scully asks. “Or are you just less miserable because you’re not all alone by yourself?”
“That doesn’t even make sense, Scully!” Mulder yells, slapping a hand against the steering wheel.
“Could you just stop being stubborn for a moment, Mulder,” Scully implores. “Just divorce yourself completely from the idea of you and me and think about it. Could you be happy with someone like Annie? Raising a family, having little boys to play catch with, someone to teach how to throw a curveball? A wife who actually stands a chance of getting pregnant again?”
Her heart feels like it’s withering in her chest, atrophied after so long without him and weary from trying so hard to hold on to what it was about him that made him so irreplaceable. But this is where she’s always failed where he has succeeded: Mulder has a knack for loving the memory of someone unconditionally, in spite of the many ways they’ve let him down.
He pulls up to the sterile, ridiculously overpriced townhouse that she’s insisted on maintaining since she moved out. It’s in a gentrified part of D.C., an industrial park that’s been modernized, and she knows Mulder hates it, even though he’s never said a thing about it. He slams on the brakes so hard that she winces when they screech. Mulder throws the car in park and stares out the windshield, refusing to look at her.
“I know the difference between losing people and watching them leave, Scully.”
Scully stares at his profile. The strong line of his jaw has softened over the years, but it’s no less dear to her now than it was decades ago, shadowed by 5 o’clock stubble and the sherbet-colored light filtering in from the streetlamps half a block away.
“I’ll see you tomorrow, Mulder,” she whispers, and she’s out of the passenger seat, slamming the door of the truck and turning the lock of her own place in less than thirty seconds without sparing a second glance behind her.
He’s been watching her leave for years, she figures, as the automated front door beeps shut behind her. She leans into it, inviting the small measure of pain when she lets her skull thud against the hard wood. The sound of his truck idling lingers until he finally puts the car in reverse and crunches back down the driveway, giving her the space he knows she needs.
One more night won’t kill them.
#my writing#in my silence#post-this#pre-plus one#because what the fuck actually happened between the two of them#for the two of them to have
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The Pros and Cons of Akaashi Keiji’s Apartment
Should I have written the IwaOi WIP I had sitting in my folder? Yes.
Could I ignore the cuteness of this post? No.
Do I have shitty impulse control? Probably.
Either way! I hope you enjoy this!!!
Akaashi Keiji loved his apartment, he really did.
As he struggled breathlessly to get into his lovely apartment that he adored, he listed off the things that had spurred him to hand over half his savings and then another quarter to fix the more pressing issues in his new abode.
I love the sunken living room, he thought as he jammed the key in for what must have been the seventeenth time, I love the spacious feel that the high ceilings provide, the way I can fit armchairs, a table and bookshelves without feeling like I have no walkway, pausing, he rested his forehead on the peeling paint of the door.
Wrangling the key, jiggling it in any fashion that seemed like it would make the lock yield to him so he could just go home and lie down, Keiji thought about how lucky he was to have thick walls so that he could play whatever music he liked without worrying about the neighbours.
A small chuckle emerging from the darkness next to him nearly caused him to jump out of his skin before he found the source of the sound.
Him, his brain helpfully provided, Keiji kept his face impassive despite his heart nearly failing from the fright. If there was another reason his heart was jittering, Keiji didn’t (or refused to) dwell upon it.
He’d seen this guy along his corridor before so he could rule out a significant chance of some horror movie scene coming to life and enacting itself because his goddamn key wouldn’t open the goddamn lock.
“You too, huh?” The deep voice that normally resounded in excited tones came slow and slightly slurred, it made the hairs on Keiji’s arm stand. But that didn’t mean anything, of course.
It was a chilly autumn evening and all he wanted was to go home, huddle in his wonderfully thick blankets and binge-watch trashy reality television until he fell asleep.
Apparently, the gods felt that handling with two unreasonable clients and one unsympathetic editor was insufficient agony for the day and so, had dealt him this unfortunate card that resulted in Keiji being unable to go. The fuck. To bed.
“Me too what?” Keiji replied in a neutral tone, jiggling the door handle so hard, he half expected it to break. I love the romance of the apartment, it’s gorgeous, and it’s all mine, he chanted in his head, I chose it, I paid for it.
“You and me… We’re both locked out,” golden eyes gleamed with amusement as they peered out from the gloom of the stairwell that the man was seated in. Keji had been rather glad to get the apartment next to the stairs because that was one less immediate neighbour to fuss about, but now there was a bronze, muscled Greek god sitting next to his house and watching him fail to get in.
“How long have you been there?” Keiji found himself saying, although part of him was screaming to just focus on his bloody door.
“About um… Since uh, maybe…” Thick white brows to match equally shocking hair furrowed in thought as the guy shifted on his step, “A while,” he concluded, beaming a bright, if tired, smile up at Keiji.
From the darkened stairwell, it seemed like a miniature sunbeam was shining out at him and Keiji didn’t know if he wanted to squint or close his eyes and bask in the warmth.
Sighing, he turned back to his traitor of a door, as though glaring at it long enough would quail it into opening. Then he set about trying to turn his key and handle in a way that would open the door since, you know, that was the way doors were usually opened.
Beside him, the hottest guy on his floor, with biceps that seemed to surpass the regular bounds of fantasizing capability, simply nodded in appreciation of Keiji’s sincere attempts to get into his house without budging from where he sat.
312, Keiji remembered suddenly in the middle of a particularly rough turn of the key that was sure to leave bruises on his palms, he stays in unit 312.
Despite him not having said a word since his last question, ‘312’ grinned up at him and went, “This is cool man, this is really nice. We should totally hang out more.” He nodded to himself in affirmation of his own idea, leaning one impossibly broad shoulder against the wall.
Keiji’s eyebrows went up without him even thinking about it but he simply nodded politely and continued waging war on his own door.
“I mean, this was like seren- serepi-, like fate,” ‘312’ continued, clearly more drunk than he seemed, “Kuroo went off with Kenma at the party so he can’t come back and let me in, Kuroo’s my best bro and my housemate and Kenma’s his boyfriend,” he added although Keiji hadn’t so much as acknowledged that he was even listening.
“And I always do the thing where I-”he rubbed one hand over his face, and it seemed like his hair was deflating from its spiked updo, “I leave my keys on the table and forget them, y’know?”
Another polite nod before Keiji threw all pretences of grace to the wind and slammed his shoulder against his door. Hard.
Briefly, he caught a glimpse of bright amber eyes widening, sparking like the instant fireworks catch when you hold a flame to it.
“Yeah, dude, yeah,” ‘312’ was muttering, “Try a kick. You should try… Kicking it.”
Oh well, Keiji thought, slinging his bag to the ground, nothing to lose at this point.
Turning around, he checked his distance from the door before donkey kicking it as hard as he possibly could without shattering his ankle.
No dice.
But he turned to find molten gold eyes that were trained on him and an impressed expression on ‘312’’s face as he nodded faster than before.
“Wow, more torque… Than I expected,” he blinked slow, “You’ve got a surprising uh, torque to size ratio.”
Keiji honestly didn’t know whether to be offended or flattered. He wasn’t very short, nor was he very scrawny. But, he thought, eyes trailing up defined lines and hard muscle packaged in a snug, white tee, I guess compared to him, I can’t be called big either.
“Why don’t you try,” the words were escaping from his mouth before his brain-to-mouth filter could kick in. A surprised blink.
He gestured at his door, flipping a lock of (probably greasy) black hair out of his eyes.
“I’ll try the lock while you hit the door,” he shrugged, trying to regain some semblance of self-possession, “It might work.”
Before he could retract it or play it off, ‘312’ was climbing to his feet, dusting off jeans that did wonders for his butt and smiling that easy smile of his. The one that momentarily made Keiji forget his crappy day and the wind’s chill and the fact that he had been stuck outside his apartment that he had almost bankrupted himself for, for twenty minutes.
“Okay, on the count of three,” ‘312’ commanded, positioning himself at the door, Keiji scrambled to fit the key in the lock and tried valiantly not to stare at arms that really should require a permit before being let out in public.
“One,” He made the mistake of looking up and locking eyes with his neighbour, slate grey boring into brilliant gold.
“Two,” ‘312’’s mouth quirked up in a grin that overturned Keiji’s insides.
“Three!” Keiji wrenched as ‘312’ shoved and with a loud, grinding sound that Keiji would normally associate with the scraping of a car, they flew through the doorframe and staggered wildly into Keiji’s home.
Completely off balance and casting about for support, Keiji found himself clutching one blessed tricep and with his foot crushing the other man’s.
Apologizing, he quickly disentangled himself before offering his thanks, pale cheeks blooming with faint colour as the other guy just laughed.
“No problem, man! That was a really good idea you had!” Was the cheerful reply as ‘312’ headed back toward the dank stairwell waving happily.
Shutting the door, Keiji started towards the bathroom, too eager for a hot shower before halting then continuing his stride before making an abrupt half swivel before sighing.
Lifting his face to where heaven probably was, he didn’t curse, nor did he pray, simply, Why?
Stalking back to his front door, he threw it open to a startled squeak from ‘312’.
“Sorry, I don’t know your name,” he began awkwardly, fingers interlocking and wringing.
“Oh! Yeah!” He got up and walked over to Keiji, “Bokuto Koutarou!”
“Bokuto-san,” Keiji hesitated before plowing on, “Please call me Akaashi. Would you like to come in?”
A short silence as Bokuto gaped at Keiji.
“Really?” He whispered, looking like a kid who just got told that school was cancelled for the next week. That made up Keiji’s mind immediately and he held the door open wider.
“Please,” he motioned for Bokuto to step in, “It’s cold out and you helped me with my door. You should stay here until your housemate can let you in.”
Smiling a little to himself, Keiji added, “It’s a pre-war apartment, there’s plenty of space.”
As Bokuto murmured his agreements, whether with Keiji’s statement or his offer, he stepped in again and flashed yet another devastating smile at Keiji.
It was like being stunned for a couple of seconds and then Keiji offered an almost imperceptible, gentle smile in response.
Yup, he definitely loved his apartment.
#haikyuu!!#haikyuu babies#bokuaka#bokuto koutarou#akaashi keiji#fluff#neighbours au#redwrites#haikyuufanfics
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(To read the full analysis, hit the blue ‘Photo’ button on the side of this post.)
When I picked this quote for Leiftan 2 months ago, I had no idea just how appropriate it might be. 0_o
Seeing that we have an elf, a vampire, and a faery-blood barbarian as potential love interests in the game, why would we want some obscure moon-child to round out the cast? Give us a straight-up demon. Sorry, I mean, ‘aengel’.
At any rate, with the latest revelations of this not-lorialet’s not-so-sweet side, I’ve made a few adjustments to all Leiftan-centric pieces on this blog, as well as to the group requests that feature him. If you’re interested, take a look. :) (Hint: he’s usually the fourth and/or last entry for group requests; those pieces are long, so feel free to skip straight to the good stuff.)
Analyses:
What would be their ideal partner?
Headcanons:
Cafe AU
Open Relationships, Part 2
Police Department AU, Part 1
Leiftan, from A - Z (C, E, S, X) [NSFW]
Leiftan, from A - Z (I, V, Z) [NSFW]
Leiftan’s Kinks [NSFW]
Scenarios:
How to seduce a clueless Guardian [NSFW]
What makes them jealous, and how they’ll react
Granted, I’m still a long ways away from playing Episode 17, so most of the information on Leiftan’s new Jekyll-and-Hyde persona was pulled from the spoilers that other players released on Tumblr. Thank you all for your reactions. ^_^
In fact, here’s mine: now I’m dusting off my poor, neglected Spanish account and speed-running through a Leiftan route. Because I think his story has gotten 2 magnitudes more interesting. And I don’t believe he is a full-blown psychopath.
Don’t shoot me as a Leiftan fan-girl. Let me explain.
True, he’s a seasoned actor with serious personal issues and a long-term scheme that’s bound to be bloody. But he does have a functional personality and moral compass of his own, even if they are subducted by a grim vendetta during that final scene in Ep. 17. (This would put him within, if not on the edge, of the sociopath class of mentally-unbalanced individuals: anti-social, deceptive, and amoral, but not thoroughly-malicious, controlling, and predatory like psychopaths.)
The main reason I believe this not-lorialet is not a psychopath: he has a functional love-o-meter. You can gain or lose approval depending on your personal responses to him, and/or the opinions you privately express about the Guard… and his reactions to you don’t often correspond to his long-term aims or how easily you give into him.
For example:
In Ep. 9, you can lose approval by trying to be optimistic about Mery’s chances when he disappears (at which Leiftan’s emotional responses will shut down). If you meet Leiftan later in the day and criticize his ongoing concern for Mery, his approval will drop still lower. The sympathetic response, in both cases, nets approval.
Again in Ep. 9, he gets (naturally) ticked-off if you call his familiar ‘difficult to handle’, but becomes really grateful if you tell him the damage is minimal (or are blunt in informing him how the little fiend woke you up).
If he’s your mission partner for clearing Yvoni’s ashes in Ep. 10, he’ll disapprove if you a.) refuse his help in recovering from your inglorious trip, and b.) get melodramatic and declare that Yvoni’s clearing has been devastated. For both cases, he’ll react happily if you offer jokes instead to lighten the mood; he’ll even briefly join you in goofing off and sitting down on the forest floor (though at the clearing, he’ll make an ominous comment on how destruction is just another form of creation.)
After clearing Yvoni’s ashes in Ep. 10 (accompanied by him or someone else), you can earn his censure if you refuse to discuss the mission honestly with him (that you both may have shared). Or if you went alone after he refused to accompany you, he’ll express concern at how you entered the forest alone. And will be far from thrilled if you blame him for refusing in the first place, or grow skeptical once he starts flirting.
For that same situation in Ep. 10, he’ll actually be flattered if you turn the conversation around and inquire about him instead. Even though he dodges the question and offers a short uninformative spiel about work, you’ll still see a rise in his approval.
Later on in Ep. 10, after your nightmare on Yvoni’s return, Leiftan will approve if you acknowledge your haggard appearance with a little joke. Whereas lying through your teeth on how you are nets his disapproval.
In Ep. 11, Leiftan won’t be ecstatic if you lecture him for skipping meals, whereas he’ll be grateful if you offer to share your lunch-breaks with him and chaperone him to make sure he eats.
After returning from Balenvia in Ep. 12, Leiftan will approve if you again apply a little sarcasm in admitting you’re upset, and disapproves if you refuse to tell him anything (when you are clearly upset).
And then there are some responses from past episodes that really raise some eyebrows on the principles he might value, especially now that we know his real roots and antipathy to the Guard:
In Ep. 8, you actually lose approval by criticizing the Guard’s level of organization for mission debriefs, and he’ll tersely admit that they’re doing what they can. Telling him instead that you enjoy making reports earns his approval. (My guess: he’s anal-retentive he appreciates organization, and people who respect a level of organization. Regardless of where they all happen to be working.)
Before the third and final recon mission in Ep. 9, Leiftan will disapprove if you tell him that you’re not thinking too much about the assignment, but he keeps his outward response minimal and wishes you good luck. (My interpretation: he doesn’t think highly of literal-minded agents who don’t question the system.)
In Ep. 13, after he tells you his alleged race, he actually gets disappointed if you call lorialets ‘selenites’, but approves if you keep your guess open-ended, and let him explain. (My assumption: he’s still anal-retentive he respects people who don’t misuse names, or casually throw around labels.)
Now if Leiftan’s emotional reactions from past episodes are all part of a ploy, if he’s a manipulative psychopath to the core whose only ambition is to witness the Guard burn, then he wouldn’t strongly approve or disapprove of any of your responses to him. He would have to show approval or disapproval to maintain his guise in the Light Guard, but his love-o-meter shouldn’t actually respond; that’s his emotional barometer, and if he has the emotional depth of a puddle (or a psychopath, colloquially-speaking), then it would read as a flat 0, or close to it.
So in practice, if Leiftan has no lasting sympathy or ethical system (which are the calling cards of a psychopath), his emotional reaction to others would be largely restricted to contempt. He wouldn’t internally respond to your changes in health, wellbeing, or safety, or the danger that finds young children. He wouldn’t be much affected by jokes, or displays of your concern/interest/consideration for him. He wouldn’t care one whit on the damage (or lack thereof) that Amaya causes for others. He wouldn’t bat an eyelid if you’re a thoughtful agent. Altogether, he wouldn’t care what you say or do, so long as you’re an easy victim.
In short, if Leiftan was written in advance as a traitor with no conscience or lasting empathy, then his approval system should be completely nonexistent. Or skewed to only respond-- shallowly-- to how easily you defer to him.
As Leiftan fans prior to Ep. 17 can tell you, that’s not the case.
Now I doubt Chi no Miiko and team would stick us with a fake love-o-meter for thirteen episodes (not including the first three). That will be pushing it when it comes to ‘trolling’ players, who’ll then have the right to consider if other love-o-meters are rigged. It’ll be more constructive for the team to instead foster more love triangles and expand the Leiftan fanbase with a route that is guaranteed potentially tragic. Starring a fourth LI who isn’t flat-out evil (which isn’t relatable anyway), but a troubled adversary who guards his heart carefully (which will satisfy both the original fans of ‘sweet’ Leiftan and those who’re now asking ‘will I die if I bang a demon?’).
And let’s not forget that this is the same game company that-- in MCL-- had you stand up to sexual aggressor Evan and (momentarily) dump his groupie Kentin. Even with genre and demographic differences, would they allow you to keep a quasi-crush option on a pure psychopath? Personally, that also smells like an abusive relationship to me.
Granted, Leiftan is definitely no angel. (Sorry, Leif; not with those eyes and horns.) All the others in the Light Guard should take notes from him on how to live a spectacular lie. And some of his actions cast doubt on why he approves of your trust in him: how much of it is because he benefits emotionally from your trust, and how much is because he can confirm that you’ll be less of an obstruction. But the rest of Leiftan’s behavior to you-- which results in quantitative drops or rises in his personal affinity, and thus demonstrates a value system-- falls outside the neat binary of “Hero of the Guard” / “Nemesis of the Guard”. And because of that, it doesn’t strike me as fair to paint him as simply a harbinger of evil who deserves an appointment with Mr. Constantine. More like a very flawed, very troubled man intent on catalyzing a storm in this life as the last demon left in the realm, but underdogs and/or crushes can still inspire the tenderness and protectiveness he once held in full as a boy.
Plenty of clues to his humanity (so to speak) have been dropped in the past, and a lot of questions left on his future. But personally, I don’t think it hurts to be optimistic with Beemov and this raven-winged aengel. ;)
For a little more general information on psychopathy and sociopathy, check out these articles:
What’s the difference between psychopaths and sociopaths?
How do psychopaths’ brains differ?
Do psychopaths genuinely lack empathy?
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BASICS
NAME: maximus boltagon
AGE: uncertain. looks somewhere in his mid to late 20s
OCCUPATION: prince of attilan ( verse dependent ) king of attilan ( verse dependent )
POTENTIAL TRIGGERS: mind control, violence.
SPECIES: inhuman
LOCATION: attilan / the moon (verse dependent), earth (verse dependent)
FANDOM: marvel (mixed mcu & comics)
POWERS
» SUPERHUMAN PHYSICAL SKILLS: a degree of superhuman strength and other physical skills superior to human athletes, including reaction time, endurance and speed.
» MIND CONTROL: maximus is able to control the minds of people within a 20-foot / 6 meters radius of himself ( with the exception of some people with mental manipulation abilities, in which their powers will cancel each others' out,) and is able to alter thought-process, numbing minds and imposing behavior onto people. when he has used this power on someone, the effects will last even if they move outside of the 20-foot radius, but he can't give them new commands etc unless they get back within 20 feet of him again.
» MIND READING: although his power is somewhat limited, maximus is able to probe the minds of others for information. (again with the exception of other people with mental manipulation abilities)
» BRAINWAVE MANIPULATION: maximus can effect the neurological signals sent to and from the brain along the central nervous system to cause total bodily paralysis. once using it offensively to stop the heart of someone at a glance.
» MEMORY ALTERATION: maximus can easily rewire a person's memories, even causing short-term amnesia if he overpowers a mind with sufficient force.
» TELEPATHIC ILLUSIONS: maximus can also project convincing psychic hallucinations from vast distances.
» PRECOGNITIONS: when properly bolstered by outside forces, maximus's powers can even enhance his brain capacity to the point that he gets visions from the future.
BIOGRAPHY
maximus, an inhuman, is the second son of two of attilan's top geneticists, agon, the head of the ruling council of geneticists, and rynda, director of the prenatal care center. subjected to the dna-altering terrigen mist while still in his mother's womb, rynda's powers allowed her to filer the terrigen that entered maximus' body. on agon's guidance, she ensured the terrigen concentrated on the baby's brain to grant him a heightened cognitive function.
maximus' gift manifested in the form of increased intelligence and mental control, powers his parents determined were attuned to those of his elder brother black bolt, and vice versa. as he matured, maximus hid his developing powers from the community as mental powers often came with a certain level of distrust, thus the community believed the terrigen mutation had failed on maximus and that he was powerless.
when he was about sixteen, black bolt was released from the protective chamber in which he had been confined since birth due to the destructive nature of his terrigen mutation. with the talk and preparations of black bolt becoming attilan’s new king, maximus plotted out a plan to get his brother to flee to earth, which would give maximus the opportunity to become king instead. maximus forged a genetic council's decree advocating for brain surgery on black bolt which was seemingly approved by their parents, which he then showed to his brother. however, instead of fleeing, black bolt went to confront his parents, and in his anger, ended up using his voice, which instantly killed them, and maximus, having followed him and been standing in the doorway, upon hearing black bolt’s voice, saw bits and pieces of memories from every moment of his own future ( including becoming the king of attilan,) and his mental control powers were increased.
black bolt, who up until then had said he didn’t want to become king and that the throne would be maximus’, suddenly and seemingly for no reason at all, agreed to become king after all, which upset maximus, who felt both betrayed by his brother, and angered with the council that they viewed a murderer better fitted to become king than him, simply because they believed he had no powers.
nevertheless, maximus continued to hide his powers and decided to try to have faith that his brother would become a good king. though after black bolt was crowned the king of attilan, and married to medusa which became the queen, maximus only saw flaws in their ruling. how they kept the caste system from the previous rulers, in which inhumans with little or no powers were forced to work in the mines while the more powerful inhumans prospered, how they refused to even consider moving back to earth, despite attilan becoming overpopulated, simply out of fear for the humans. how black bolt had sent one of their own out on a secret mission to earth to find and bring other inhumans back to attilan, again, despite attilan already being overpopulated.
at this point, maximus had began to win the lower-class people of attilan over and even a relative amount of people within of the royal guard ( some of them which he used his mind control on, but most followed him by their own free will,) with promises of a brighter future on earth without a caste system, where everyone would be seen as equal. plotting a revolt against the king and queen, maximus, along with royal guards on his side, cornered medusa and subdued her, and as the guards restrained her, maximus shaved off her hair, robbing her of her hair manipulation powers. he then went with the guards by his side to see his brother, telling black bolt that his reign was over and taunting him, asking him if he was going to kill him like he had killed their parents. though just as black bolt opened his mouth to intimidate maximus, the teleporting dog, lockjaw, owned by medusa’s younger sister, crystal, teleported into the room, and helped black bolt teleport to earth.
maximus ordered the capture of crystal, and had her locked in the quiet room, while the rest of the royal family fled to earth with the help of lockjaw. maximus ordered a group of the royal guard to go to earth and find the royal family, and to kill black bolt and bring the rest of them back to him. he also at some point contacted a scientist named evan declan, down on earth, offering to fund him to research on the terrigenesis process to see if it was possible to go through a second terrigenesis to acquire power, for those who didn’t receive any or only limited powers the first time, if they should so wish. he then visited crystal several times in the quiet room, attempting to make her see his side of things and offered her to join him, to which she eventually agreed, only to disavow him in front of the council before fleeing to earth with the help of lockjaw. in an attempt to win the council over, maximus claimed the royal family was running away from their responsibilities, and that he would lead attilan no matter what.
however, having the feeling that the council was still loyal to black bolt and medusa, maximus had them all gather in the throne room where they were executed by the royal guards. he then tried to call the force he’d sent to earth to get an update on the situation, but to his surprise, was answered by medusa and black bolt instead, who had escaped and captured one of the guards. they told him they would soon come after him, to which maximus, after the call was ended, requested another group of the people of attilan to assist the royal guards in dealing with the royal family on earth once and for all.
after sending reinforcements to the royal guard force on earth, feeling little concern at the idea that they could all be wiped out by black bolt, maximus met with tibor, a council member who used to be his friend, who reported rumors about a rebellion against maximus' rule. maximus ordered tibor to investigate the matter, enraged at the idea of a conspiracy against his life. suspecting that even tibor could be a traitor, maximus ultimately figured out who was conspiring against him, including tibor. he arrested his former friend in the control room and waited for the rebels to come and try to kill him. there, maximus informed them that he had arrested their families and ordered them to drop their weapons, to which they complied. when tibor claimed that he would fail all the same, maximus slit his throat and ordered the rebels to be taken away.
following gorgon's death, the inhuman royal family decided to negotiate with maximus. they sent crystal to attilan to return maximus' team and asked for a parley, which maximus accepted, glad to see that his family came to him and not the other way around. before going to the parley, maximus held a eulogy for his late cousin gorgon in the throne room, expressing his wish to avoid more bloodshed. at midday, maximus met with the royal family for parley. black bolt and medusa offered to pardon maximus for his crimes and to hand over declan and declan’s research to maximus, if he surrendered the throne. maximus pretended to agree, but once declan was handed over, went back on his words, stating that he lied only to rescue declan.
the royal family left the parley, while maximus went with declan to his apartments to discuss his research. the conversation was interrupted when one of the royal guards informed maximus of several malfunctions occurring throughout attilan. maximus ordered her to investigate the matter. understanding that the royal family was still in attilan, maximus left with his guards, only to be defeated in a fight and captured by triton. maximus was brought to the royal bunker, where he revealed that he had enacted a fail-safe: if he was not released in time, the protective dome surrounding attilan would collapse, destroying the city and its inhabitants.
maximus' revelation surprised the royal family who struggled about what to do while maximus bragged that he would lead the inhumans to earth, although his brother warned him that this would bring an enemy more fearsome than the humans. black bolt then took maximus through the tunnels to reach the control room. exiting the tunnels, maximus and black bolt met a group of inhumans loyal to maximus who helped him to escape. maximus then headed to the control room and delivered a speech to the people of attilan, calling for an open war with the royal family.
black bolt then met him in the control room. maximus admitted that he could not prevent the dome from collapsing. believing that they would soon die, maximus revealed his role in the death of their parents. maximus expected his brother to kill him, but black bolt simply knocked him unconscious and brought him to the royal bunker. black bolt then abandoned his brother in the bunker, locking him away and collapsing the building above the bunker. maximus declared himself the king of attilan, realizing that his vision had come true, but not the way he had expected it.
after several weeks surviving in the bunker all alone, he was eventually “rescued” by the very enemy black bolt had warned him about earlier.
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Blackspark and his pregnancy brain earlier failed to recognize his partner in crime after they’d been separated for awhile. Gravescratch was not pleased.
“You did not recognize me.”
“Gravescratch.”
“You. Did not. Recognize me.”
“I’m sorry.”
“You looked. Right at me. And you did not see me.”
“I know, baby, and I’m so sorry.”
“You forgot me.”
“Now, okay- that I’m gonna have ta object to.”
Blackspark sighed, very gently attempting to tug Gravescratch’s helm a bit lower, but failed entirely. He wasn’t willing to use any sort of actual force, especially not now, and Gravescratch did not want to lean down. “C’mon, baby, I didn’t forget you. Look- you heard th’ medic. Processor’s a li’l busy buildin’ a bit, I’m runnin’ on low power. Got no recognition skills fer anyone, ‘specially not outta long-term memory. But I didn’t forget you. I just… didn’t recognize ya.”
Gravescratch made no attempt to pull his helm out of Blackspark’s servos, but pinned his antennae down and refused to move, stretched up tall enough that he was almost out of reach. When he spoke, some of the hissed words were accompanied by a quick stomp of one pede, a gesture that meant agitation- that he was either working himself up or had been working himself up. “I have spent centuries being overlooked because people take me for an animal, because people look but never see me. I spent the first part of my life in chains because no one saw and no one cared and they left me to slavery for lack of recognition that I was not an animal, and you try to convince me that you of all beings not recognizing me is not important?!”
“Oh, baby, no… that’s not what’m doin’.” Blackspark whispered, slowly beginning to sway side-to-side on his pedes in an attempt to get Gravescratch to mimic him- the closest he’d ever been able to come to rocking someone nearly twice his height in his arms. “I’m not tryin’ ta say that it doesn’t matter. I’m sayin’ I’m sorry, an’ that it ain’t ‘cos you ain’t important, it’s ‘cos I literally cannot recognize anyone past recent memory. I didn’t recognize you, bu’ I recognize your worth, an’ your rights, an’ your existence- I see you, baby, I see you. I got you.”
Gravescratch wanted to believe. He did. Enough that he found himself starting to lean into the touches, starting to sway with Blackspark, before he caught himself. “Pretty words, but no proof.” he hissed, half-sparkedly trying to pull away, and shut his optics against the traitorous welling of moisture.
“You want proof? I feel ya- proof’s good.” Blackspark purred, gently running his fingertips under Gravescratch’s optics, and started to purr softly as he rocked. “I ‘member meeting you. Thought you were some kinda hound, but- hey, can’t blame me there, you were pretendin’ ta be one. Talked at ya, gave ya food, lured ya back t’ my ship, an’ then turned ‘round an’ saw ya loungin’ all noodley on m’ berth. Don’t ‘member when that was, bu’ I know it happened.”
His optics brightened a bit as Gravescratch leaned ever-so-slightly into him, and he purred just a bit louder, taking exactly one step closer. “Yeah. An’ I remember Mine, hm? Cute li’l stuffed thing. Still got ‘m in subspace, yeah? I ‘member findin’ ‘m. You… had a lotta feelings. Talked t’ya ‘bout ‘em, eventually… after I found ya curled up’n cryin’ more’n once. You did a lot more cryin’ after we talked, but… seemed better after. Had some stuff bottled, stuff ‘bout how they treated you, ‘bout th’ one who wasn’ quite as awful… ‘bout how you were tryin’ ta figure out if ya hated th’ mech or not. Figured out that… maybe not? Not as much ‘s hate.”
He could see Gravescratch’s resolve wavering, but he didn’t try to get any closer, nor did he attempt to pull Gravescratch down. He just kept talking, his voice soft and genuine, and kept swaying- which Gravescratch was starting to follow.
“Real mixed feelin’s, yeah? Tha’s okay. Yer allowed ta have complicated feelin’s ‘bout people. He’s dead, anyway, ain’t gonn’ cause ya any trouble. I ‘member that much. I ‘member helpin’ ya check. An’ I ‘member you cryin’ after that, too. You had a lot of cryin’ bottled up. Which’s okay, baby… nothin’ wrong wi’ cryin’. Bottlin’ ain’t good fer ya, though. So, hey… you feel like maybe you got somethin’ stressin’ you… yeah? Guessin’ it’s this? I know, baby, I’m sorry… ‘m so sorry. I know. I know ya, an’ I know how you feel ‘bout not bein’ recognized, an’ I understand- I do, baby, I do. That is an extremely reasonable… reason fer ya ta feel like that. An’ I’m sorry I didn’ recognize you. I am so, so sorry. But- please, Gravescratch, you know me. And I know you. I know you.”
Gravescratch made a soft, needy little sound and finally, finally gave in, slumping against Blackspark with both pairs of servos grasping at the bounty hunter’s frame. He didn’t speak, though, just whined and pressed close, careful to avoid the spines as he pressed his helm to Blackspark’s throat and swayed.
Of course Blackspark knew him, of course, it made so much more sense for him to not recognize than to forget. And it still hurt, but… carrying did strange things to people’s brains. Part of the reason why the whole idea horrified him. It… wasn’t out of the question that Blackspark’s processor might have failed him. Right? It made sense, and it was comforting, and Blackspark had never, never lied to him… not once. Not even slightly.
“Yeah, hey… I feel ya. It’s alright… c’mon now. Berth’s tha’ way. ‘s okay.” Blackspark crooned, carefully backing up and taking Gravescratch with him, still swaying as much as he could while walking. “There we go. I missed you, hey- you know that, right? Oh, Primus, I missed you… I love you, baby. Love you, Gravescratch.”
Once on the berth, Blackspark leaned back a bit and purred softly, rocking slowly back and forth with all his spines as far down as possible so Gravescratch could cling as tightly as possible. “Yeah… here we go. Comfy? Uh- careful not ta lean too hard on m’ stomach, somebody in there don’ like that.”
Gravescratch curled against Blackspark and parted his jaws just enough to lap at the bounty hunter’s throat, softly, something they both knew meant the same- affection, pleasure in trust, love. Maybe not romantic love, but… that didn’t make it any less genuine. Even if Gravescratch was bad at admitting it in words.
He’d missed Blackspark, too, missed the first person in a long time to treat him with respect. Missed this ridiculous bundle of spines, those soft white optics and the gentle touches only when he wanted touches…
Like now. Yes, he had a lot of feelings, and he definitely wanted touches now.
So he curled around the warm mech, he swayed with Blackspark, and he licked and nuzzled and offered as much affection as he could without having to try to speak.
Much as it shamed him, he didn’t think he could manage any words right now.
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