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persephone-plasmids · 3 years

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Trying

A Danse and Nora fic

[Part 1]

[Read on AO3]

Danse woke up before the sun, his chest heavy with the memories of the night before. Nora had kissed him. But she’d also been drunk, so it hadn’t counted.

Of course, that didn’t stop him from reliving the moment in his mind over and over again. He’d hardly slept as he wondered what was worse: Nora remembering the kiss and regretting it, or forgetting about it and the two of them never addressing it again. He wasn’t sure what he could even hope for if she did remember. She’d never reciprocate his feelings. And he couldn’t fault her for that. He was a Synth. An abomination.

Danse scowled up at the ceiling before rolling out of bed, pulling his boots on, and leaving the partially destroyed house in Sanctuary where he now stayed. The settlement had turned into a place for all of Nora’s strays to reside; himself included.

Fog hung heavily in the early morning air as Danse began his normal jog around the perimeter of the settlement. He’d run up the rocky hills to make sure no Raiders had taken up residence overnight then splash through the river a few times to cool himself down before making the jog up the hill to the entrance of Vault 111.

Today, the sight of the large metal vault entrance only made his stomach turn. It reminded him of his interaction with Nora the day before. She’d been grieving the loss of her husband. She’d gotten drunk. And she’d kissed him.

Had he taken advantage of her compromised state? He tried to assure himself that he hadn’t. He’d pushed her away. He’d been the one to stop things before they went further. But he also couldn’t deny that he’d kissed her back. That he’d enjoyed kissing her back. And he couldn’t pretend he hadn’t spent the entire rest of the evening replaying the kiss in extreme detail, imagining what it could have been like if it had gone further.

Danse shook his head, ashamed at his own thoughts as he jogged back down the hill to Sanctuary.

The sun was beginning to melt away the heavy fog and by the time Danse had showered and donned his Brotherhood jumpsuit for the day, the haze was nothing but a distant memory.

There’s no avoiding it forever. I’ve got to go check on Nora, Danse thought to himself as he exited his home and stepped out into the streets of Sanctuary. Settlers were just starting to make their way to their assigned tasks for the day. Some held rifles to guard the perimeter while others grabbed gardening tools. Danse rolled his eyes as Hancock stumbled through the streets with a dazed smile on his face.

“Just getting in, Hancock?” Danse asked, the disapproval heavy in his voice.

“It’s my duty as mayor of Goodneighbor to check on my citizens every now and then,” Hancock replied, the lazy smile still on his scarred features.

“Funny how it’s only the patrons in The Third Rail you seem to check on,” Danse answered.

He hadn’t intended on harassing the Ghoul today. In all honesty, he was trying to be better. Mostly for Nora’s sake, but also because of his own revelation that he wasn’t as purely human as he’d always thought. Danse hated being a hypocrite. But purging his deeply ingrained prejudices from his mind was proving much more difficult than he wanted to admit.

“It’s not my fault I know how to have a good time, Danse,” Hancock said. “If you ever want to loosen the leash Maxson put on you, you’re welcome to join us.”

Danse shook his head at the Ghoul but didn’t respond. He knew he wouldn’t have anything kind to say. Instead, he made his way to Nora’s house, ignoring the stinging reminder from Hancock that he was no longer a member of the Brotherhood.

Standing in front of the door to Nora’s home, Danse squared his shoulders, took a deep breath, and knocked. His body told him he needed to leave immediately, because whether or not she remembered the kiss, this interaction would be painful. Seeing her would remind him just how incredible it felt to kiss her… and that he couldn’t do it again. But he didn’t run. He stayed right where he was.

His heart hammered in his chest as the door knob turned, but it wasn’t Nora who greeted him. Instead, Deacon stood in the doorway wearing Nora’s old flowery apron over his usual T-shirt and jeans, raising his ginger eyebrows behind his sunglasses.

“Morning sunshine,” the spy said with a grin.

“Deacon?” Danse asked, his confusion slowly turning to anger as it always seemed to. He needed to work on that. “What are you doing in Nora’s house this early?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know, soldier?” Deacon asked. “But a gentleman never kisses and tells.”

Danse set his jaw firmly as he stared at the man in front of him. He was already calculating how much physical damage it would do if he punched Deacon right then and there. The spy would live. But Nora would never forgive Danse. So he refrained.

“Oh man, I can see all those little Brotherhood cogs turning in your brain. It would be adorable if it wasn’t so sad,” Deacon said with a laugh. “At ease, soldier. I was totally kidding. Just wanted to get a rise out of you. I didn’t realize it would be quite so effective.”

Danse could hear the laughter in Deacon’s voice, but it was muted by the sound of his own blood rushing through his body.

He definitely needed to work on his anger management skills.

“Where is Nora?” Danse asked simply, refusing to acknowledge just how close he’d been to getting into a physical altercation with Deacon.

Danse was usually close to getting into a fight with Deacon, but the idea that the spy had slept with Nora was definitely the thing that would have pushed him over the edge… had it been true.

“I feel like out of the two of us, you’re the one who should know she headed over to the Prydwyn before dawn,” Deacon answered, turning around and heading back into Nora’s kitchen without another look in Danse’s direction.

The Paladin followed the spy and perched on one of the barstools at the counter.

Deacon, still wearing the flowery apron, was stirring mirelurk eggs in a frying pan.

“Nora went to the Prydwyn?” Danse asked, his mind trying to play catch up. “Why?”

“Personally, I don’t think she needs to keep things friendly with the Brotherhood of Bigots anymore now that The Institute is destroyed, but she said something about an open line of communication between the factions and blah, blah, blah.” Deacon shook his head. “Maxson said he wanted to meet with her about something or other. Probably wants to start a fun petition forbidding Ghouls from speaking or something.”

“Maxson asked for her?” Danse repeated. This gave him pause.

There was a time when Danse had worshipped Maxson. He’d thought the man could do no wrong. That was, of course, until Maxson had wanted him killed for being a Synth. Danse could understand the difficult position Maxson had been placed in, but after their years of friendship, he still had a hard time with just how quickly the Elder had turned on him.

He also saw the way Maxson looked at Nora when Danse had still been allowed aboard the Prydwyn. The Elder was young and Nora was beautiful. It only made sense that he’d look at her the way he did. But Danse didn’t like it, even though he was fairly certain the only reason he was still alive was because Nora had been the one to convince Maxson to spare him. Danse wasn’t sure anyone else could have swayed the Elder the way she did.

“Do I sense a love triangle? Because you know I love some juicy gossip,” Deacon said, grinning over at the Paladin and plopping some eggs onto a plate for him.

“That’s inappropriate, civilian,” Danse said, staring at the eggs in front of him and wondering why on earth Deacon would ever make him food. They hated each other.

“Hate to break it to you, tin can, but you’re a civilian now too,” Deacon said, taking a seat beside Danse with his own plate of eggs.

“You and I are not the same,” Danse emphasized, taking a bite out of the eggs. They were surprisingly good.

“You’re completely right,” Deacon agreed, though Danse could tell from his tone that he wasn’t going to like what came next. “I’ve been able to let go of my bigoted ways, while you still look at Hancock and Valentine like they’re Mirelurk scat on your boot.”

“That’s…” Danse began, but he didn’t know what to really say. Deacon wasn’t wrong. Danse wasn’t doing a great job of changing his deeply ingrained beliefs.

“Admitting you have a problem is the first step, champ,” Deacon said, with a soft pat on Danse’s shoulder.

It would have been a kind gesture, if the spy hadn’t immediately snorted from trying to hold back his laughter.

“I’m… trying,” Danse managed to say, even if it felt like injecting a Stimpack directly into his temple to utter the words.

Deacon glanced over at Danse for a moment, but it was hard for the Paladin to read his expression behind the sunglasses. He had to remind himself that this was probably the reason the spy always wore them.

“A good first step would be to actually spend some time with the people you hate,” Deacon offered, being surprisingly helpful. “You might find that you actually have some fun with Hancock. Plus, you and Valentine are a bit more alike than you might think. He’s a giant stick in the mud too.”

Danse huffed under his breath and simply said, “Noted,” before taking another bite of eggs.

The two men chewed in silence for a moment before the front door opened and Nora strode in wearing the all-black Brotherhood of Steel jumpsuit reserved for high-ranking officials.

Danse’s eyes involuntarily roamed over just how perfectly the jumpsuit fit her curves, though he immediately hated himself for the very visceral reaction the image gave him.

“Deacon Marie Jones! What are you doing in my apron?” Nora asked dramatically, walking up behind the spy and wrapping her arms around him in a familiar embrace.

This did nothing to lessen Danse’s animosity towards the spy.

“Your middle name is Marie?” Danse asked.

“I just make up names for him,” Nora replied. “Since he won’t tell anyone his real name.”

Deacon leaned backward into Nora’s embrace as she held him tightly before finally releasing him. Danse hated how casual their physical contact was. She wasn’t like that with the Paladin.

“I thought we agreed the apron looks better on me,” Deacon said.

“Everything looks better on you, Deacon,” Nora agreed with a laugh, walking over to the frying pan and scooping a few eggs for herself. “I bet even this ridiculous black jumpsuit would look better on you.”

Danse refrained from pointing out how false that statement was.

He wasn’t sure he’d ever seen someone look so good in a jumpsuit before.

“Give yourself some credit, Charmer,” Deacon said, his voice as smooth as ever. “There are only so many people who can pull off a dog collar.”

“It’s not a dog collar,” Danse mumbled, finding himself irrationally annoyed by the comment.

Nora’s lips quirked up into a grin as she set her plate down and walked over to Danse. The Paladin swiveled in his barstool to face her but he didn’t anticipate just how close she’d get to him. Nora walked right up to Danse, positioning herself between his knees as she grinned down at him.

Danse swallowed hard as his dark eyes met hers. She took one finger and hooked it under the metal ring at the neck of Danse’s Brotherhood uniform and gave it a soft tug. She didn’t manage to pull him closer from his sitting position, but it did cause her to take another step closer to him, now standing squarely between his thighs.

“What exactly would you call it then, Paladin?” Nora asked, raising a challenging eyebrow at him.

Danse felt like his heart might actually beat out of his chest as he stared up at her. She still had a firm grasp on the clasp at his neck and he worried she’d be able to visibly see the nervous way he swallowed.

“It’s… It’s an attachment for the Power Armor,” he managed to choke out.

He hated that Deacon was here to witness just how easily Nora could set him off balance.

“I guess your big brown puppy dog eyes just make the term ‘dog collar’ feel more fitting,” Nora answered with a smirk.

He could feel the heat of her hips against his thighs but tried with every fiber of his being to ignore it. Their close proximity was only making it more difficult for him to focus.

Thankfully, Nora released her grasp on the metal ring and stepped back around the counter to retrieve her eggs. “Thanks for the breakfast, Deeks,” Nora said casually, as if she hadn’t just upended Danse’s entire world.

“Just paying off my debt to society,” Deacon said, finishing his own plate off and rinsing it in the sink. “I should have never suggested that game of strip poker.”

Danse’s eyes widened at this comment but Nora just shook her head with a laugh.

“He bet me that I couldn’t convince a Diamond City guard to give me their uniform.”

“I didn’t take into account that she wouldn’t use stealth to get what she wanted,” Deacon said with a scowl. “I still think it’s cheating if you use your feminine wiles.”

“You’re just mad that you have to make me breakfast every Tuesday for a month,” Nora said with a dismissive wave of her hand.

Deacon shook his head and grinned. “Well I’m off to go start some rumors around Diamond City that Piper is actually a Ghoul. Wish me luck.”

“You’ll need it,” Nora replied before the spy disappeared, leaving her and Danse alone.

Danse took a deep breath, wondering if he wanted to come right out and ask Nora if she remembered what had happened the night before, or if it would be better to just ignore it.

He decided on the coward’s way out.

“What did Maxson want?” Danse asked, trying to sound uninterested.

“Ugh, that man,” Nora began, exasperation heavy in her voice. “He wanted to try to convince me to pledge my exclusive loyalty to the Brotherhood again. But I told him, for the millionth time, I’m not going to abandon The Railroad or The Minutemen. There’s no reason we can’t all play nice.”

“I’m sure he loved that,” Danse answered, a genuine smile now playing on his lips.

“He threw a bit of a tantrum,” Nora agreed. “Luckily no one was around to see it. He had me meet him in his private quarters this time.”

Danse raised an eyebrow, still trying to pretend like he wasn’t incredibly interested in this particular point. “Oh?”

“I think he thought it might intimidate me if we were alone,” Nora laughed. “He poured me a drink, stood in front of his Brotherhood of Steel flag, and tried to look super intimidating.”

“And?”

“And it didn’t work,” Nora said, giving Danse one of the smiles that made her eyes crinkle in the corners while his heart melted into a puddle inside of him. “My affection isn’t that easily swayed.”

“Of course,” Danse responded simply.

He could feel Nora’s eyes on him as he looked back down at his now empty plate. He was running out of reasons to be in her kitchen but he wasn’t quite ready to leave yet.

“How are you feeling?” Danse began cautiously. “Do you have a headache from that bourbon last night?”

That was casual, right? That was something a totally normal friend would say whether or not they’d kissed the night before… wasn’t it?

“I had a bit of a headache this morning,” Nora began. She was pushing the eggs around on her plate with her fork but not taking a bite. Her eyes were no longer on Danse; now she seemed laser focused on the food in front of her. “I told you I wasn’t that drunk.”

Danse’s cheeks instantly flushed at her words.

She remembered.

She remembered and she really was lucid enough to know that she was kissing him.

What did that mean? Did he ask her about it? Did he ask if she regretted it or did he even dare to hope that she actually somehow felt something for him other than friendship or fondness?

“You can hold your liquor well,” was all the Paladin said, also staring intently at his own plate.

If anyone had walked by the scene in the kitchen, they’d think the two were Synths whose recall codes had been read to them.

The silence between them pressed on for a few moments before Nora softly cleared her throat.

“Listen, Danse… I’m sorry about what happened. You were totally right that I wasn’t thinking straight and… I shouldn’t have done that. I’m sorry.”

Danse felt his entire chest tighten at her words.

She regretted it. She wished it hadn’t happened. He’d made her uncomfortable.

And now that he knew she remembered everything, he felt even worse for kissing her back. What could she possibly think of him now? That he was just like the rest of the Wastelanders; ready to take advantage of an inebriated woman at the drop of a hat?

What did he say to make this better?

“I’m… I shouldn’t have… engaged,” he said quietly. It wasn’t what he wanted to say, but Danse had never been good with things like emotions. Synth or not, talking about his feelings wasn’t something he ever thought he’d be comfortable with.

Danse dared a glance up at Nora who was still looking down at her plate. She was frowning with something like disappointment in her eyes.

“I should probably get changed out of this jumpsuit,” she said after another moment of awkward silence. “Preston has a place nearby that he wants me to check out to set up a possible settlement.”

“Of course,” Danse responded, a bit too quickly. “I’ve got some work to do on my power armor.”

Nora nodded as Danse stood up and made his way towards the door.

Before he touched the handle, he heard Nora’s voice, soft and hesitant.

“Would you… want to come with me?”

#fo4 #fallout #fallout 4 #danse #paladin danse #nora #sole survivor #fanfic #fallout fanfic #fallout fic #fallout 4 fanfic #fallout companions #danse x sole #danse x nora #danse x sole survivor

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astro-rain · 3 years

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delicate; b.barnes

chapter eleven - “there’s a reason behind everything”

delicate masterlist

word count: 2k

synopsis: bucky and y/n endure an event of stressful affliction, followed by something... entrancing.

pairings: bucky barnes x fem!reader

It had been a few days. There hadn't been any more headaches or vomiting. He was glad that Y/N faced no more impediments after that. However, he can't say the same for himself.

The thrashing was violent, his limbs wrenching, muscles tensing. The sheet beneath him was damp from cold sweat. He hadn't had a nightmare this bad in a while.

Ghastly memories assaulted him, ripping him from reality and forcing him back into agony, torture, and trauma. He could hear his heartbeat in his ears, but he wasn't sure if that was in the nightmare or real life. The lines of reality and dreamscape faded. He couldn't tell if he was awake, and panic metastasized throughout his body.

His arms were strapped down - yes, two of them. He couldn't tell if the other was metal or not; the only thing he could register was that he had zero control. He was exposed and helpless and right back where he was before. He had never gotten out. Hydra still had their chains around his neck, choking the humanity out of him, and violating his autonomy to make a monster out of a man.

He felt like a caged animal. All there existed was terror; he needed to get out and he didn't care if he had to cut off a body part to do it. He jerked his body and pulled his arms as hard as he could. He thrashed and thrashed, desperately trying to somehow find a way out of this hell. He tried to scream but his lungs were frozen, cracked and collapsed from the ice that they defiled him with.

Every nerve in his body was ignited, screeching to try to escape. The only coherent thought in his head was "get out." Get out. Get out. Get out. Get out. Get out. Get out. Get—

The top of his head suddenly burned, pain radiating out in beats, like a heart rate. It was then when he realized he was awake. It was then when he realized he had flung himself up, causing his head to collide with the wooden slats of the top bunk. It was also at this point when he heard her voice.

"Bucky!" her voice shook intensely, worry bubbling from the back of her throat. "Oh my god."

Faintly, the fear in her voice registered somewhere in the back of Bucky's brain, but this had no effect on his entirely overstimulated nervous system. His reaction was visceral; he flinched hard, jolting away from Y/N and falling off the side of the bed. The floor was cold; he could feel it in his hand and knees as he knelt on all fours (all threes?) trying to catch his breath.

Y/N hurried around the bed and immediately dropped to the floor in front of him. Her hands were quivering in front of her, completely unsure of how he would react to being touched.

His eyes were glued to the floor beneath him, but in his peripheral he could see Y/N's legs. Suddenly, she knelt on her hands, trying to be as non-threatening as she could.

"Buck," she whispered. "It was a nightmare. It was just a nightmare. You're here, and you're just fine."

"Fuck," he whispered. His body was on fire; he wished it'd just calm down.

"Your hand's on the floor. What does the floor feel like?" she asked, in an attempt to detour his attention.

"Cold," he strained.

"Cold, yeah," she said. "Do you know why?"

He shook his head.

"It's because it's made of stone. Stone has a high thermal conductivity, which means it allows heat to flow through it quickly. The heat from your skin goes right into it and flows through really fast."

He pivoted his wrist slightly, smoothing the skin on his hand over the stone, feeling the cold, and thinking about what Y/N said.

She smiled slightly. "There's a reason behind everything, you know. An explanation."

"Even for this?" he asked, referencing the panic.

"Especially for this. What are you feeling right now?"

"Can't breathe."

"Yep. Okay, that's normal, too. That's your nervous system. It's really riled up right now because you're stressed. See, your body has a natural response to stress called the fight or flight response. It's supposed to be used in the wild to run from a predator or something, and you can imagine how engaging and intense that would be on your body," her voice was calm and steady. "The only thing is, your body is going through those same functions and feelings when you're not out running from a lion or something, trying to fight for your life. Instead, you're here. You're sitting on the floor and you're here with me. You're not in any immediate danger. We're fine."

He nodded, still looking down, still trying to compose himself. He couldn't look her in the eyes once he realized his face was wet from tears. He was acutely embarrassed. Be that as it may, she was helping. What she said made sense. It helped to understand just what his body was doing rather than simply trying to survive through it.

Suddenly, directly where his eyes were cast, a drop of crimson appeared on the floor; it dripped down from him. It was then when he registered the sharp ache in his nose and the warm, wet feeling around it. Blood.

"Bucky, there's- blood, are you okay?" The calm in her voice was muffled by worry.

"Y-Yeah, I'm... I'm fine. It's just my nose..."

"What can I do?"

"Can you just... keep talking?"

"Yes," she breathed, the calm returning with infinite softness. "So, there are a few divisions of the nervous system. First, you have the central nervous system and the peripheral nervous system. Then, from the peripheral, you have the somatic and autonomic systems. And then from autonomic, you have the sympathetic and parasympathetic systems. Those are what you're feelin' right now. Your sympathetic is what gets you ramped up - you know, increases in heart rate, breathing, sweating. And then your parasympathetic is what calms you down, so slowing your heart rate and breathing and so on. Your sympathetic activated the fight or flight response, and your parasympathetic is trying to rein you back in... I hope that makes sense."

"It does."

"You know the hormone that gets released during all this?"

"Adrenaline's the only one I can think of."

"There you go!" she smiled. "It comes from the adrenal glands."

"Can I get those removed, then?"

"Unfortunately not. Do you still have your tonsils?"

"Nah, got those taken out forever ago."

"Appendix?"

"I think I still have that one?"

She laughed. "Well that's good. The appendix is sorta kinda part of the lymphatic system."

"The what?"

"Er- immune system I mean."

"Never knew that," he commented.

"There's a reason behind everything, you know," she quoted herself endearingly.

"An explanation," he said, completing the sentiment and finally looking up.

Upon seeing his face, Y/N tried to hide her shock and concern, but he noticed. The apprehension was clear. He didn't want to be pitied; he wished he would've just suffered through this alone in a hole or something.

"There you are," she whispered.

Her voice was so gentle that his chest almost cramped, and then his entire body softened. Never mind. He'd much rather stay.

"Here I am."

She reached forward, ever so delicately, and smoothed the pads of her thumbs along his cheeks, effectively wiping away the tears. Effectively removing the physical aftermath of his pain.

She gave a strained smile. Why did he feel bad?

"Stay here," she instructed before getting up.

He'd do nothing but comply.

She came back with a damp white cloth, returning to her kneeling position in front of him.

"Here," she breathed, putting the cloth up to his nose.

He reached up to grab it, but her hand pulled away.

"I got it," she reassured.

He wasn't about to allow her to clean up his mess. This was pathetic enough as it was; he was pathetic enough as he was. She didn't need to tend to him out of obligation.

He insisted. "No, it's okay. I can do it."

"Bucky, let me help. Please."

"You don't have to. Seriously, it's fine."

"I know I don't have to - I want to. I want to help. Please just let me help."

He found he wasn't very good at saying no to her. He nodded silently, closed his eyes, and leaned his head forward. She got to work, gently dabbing the cloth to his blood stained skin, blotting the red, erasing the damage.

"You know," she said, a slight inflection in her voice as a result of her concentration. "I think you accidentally hit yourself in your sleep. I think that's why you're bleeding. 'Cause your head hit the top bunk, not your face."

"I'm really that talented, huh?"

She snickered. "Very. I don't know if I could manage such a feat."

"No, if you had nightmares, you'd probably just know exactly what each one meant and adjust your subconscious so you weren't afraid anymore."

She leaned back, an amused but shocked expression on her face, eyebrows raised, head tilted. Then she laughed.

"Look at you. Came for my neck with that one."

"I was just joking-"

"I know," she chuckled, leaning back in to continue her diligent work, "don't worry. I thought it was funny... even though it was wrong."

"Wrong?"

"Bucky, I wish I had that much control. I know the brain, but I can't work with mine that well. I'm only good at working with other people's."

He smirked. "Nah, I still think you could."

"Well, you have too much faith in me."

He couldn't think of a response to that. He had become decently distracted by the warmth radiating from her. She was so close. He thought back to what she said about heat conductivity, and briefly wondered how fast her warmth might transfer to him. What would happen if he just... opened his eyes-

Big mistake. He nearly drowned in the color, the depth all consuming. He hadn't noticed her movements stopped. She held the cloth at her chest, waiting. There were mere inches between them.

"Hi," she whispered, the ends of her mouth turning up ever so slightly.

He didn't think his body had ever been so still. He returned the smile all the same.

"Hi."

"What are you thinkin'?"

He could see every detail on her face. It made him equal amounts nervous and giddy. He never really thought about the number of eyelashes an average person had, but he became suddenly interested in counting each one of hers.

"I don't... I don't know..."

"You don't know? Well, it looks like there's at least a couple of hefty thoughts swirlin' around in there."

He did have a thought. Well, more of a question. What would happen if he glanced at her lips? What would happen if he just leaned in?

"Yeah... yeah, there may be a few."

When she didn't respond, her eyes bore into him, and dear lord, he felt bare. Eye contact is a dangerous, dangerous thing. But lovely. Oh, so lovely. And then that thing started to happen again: when time got lazy and the world felt slow. The room was without a sound. The only thing he could hear was his own heartbeat and maybe some of hers, too. It's as if they were in a trance.

Then, that thought returned. What would happen if he just leaned in? Rationally, he knew he shouldn't try to find the answer to that question. Nonetheless, curiosity beckoned him. Had the space between them become smaller? He couldn't tell. Not even an inch of their skin was touching the other, but every sensation and perception was so overwhelming, he thought his brain might fizzle out.

She was just so, so close. He was frozen, and never wanted to move again. She was so close, until suddenly she wasn't. Until suddenly, the trance stopped, time caught up, and the world began to move once more. Until suddenly, Y/N's serene smile disappeared, and she leaned back, awkwardly clearing her throat.

"Does your nose hurt? I can see if I can come up with a makeshift icepack or something."

"Uh, no. No, it's fine. I don't even feel it..."

He wondered which feeling he was denying.

delicate taglist: @bakugouswh0r3 @thefridgeismybestie

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franniebanana · 3 years

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CQL Rewatch - Ep 21

Note: I will be critical of Jiang Cheng in these posts. If you can’t handle that, please feel free to scroll on.

I really like this hug. I mean, if you've been reading these from the beginning, you know how much I love wangxian, but I'm really glad that Wei Ying's first actual hug after returning from the Burial Mounds is with Jiang Yanli. I'm not counting the hug with Jiang Cheng, because Wei Ying didn't hug him back. That hug was thrust upon him and he did not reciprocate. This reunion is very sweet, and tear-filled, and if I hadn't been up since 3 am, I might be feeling enough to shed a tear, myself. That being said, it's hilarious how they keep showing Jiang Cheng in the middle, looking awkward as he tries to balance joy and sadness. I get what the director had in mind, but it just looks weird lol.

But this part is also super sad, because Wei Ying again makes a promise he can't keep: that the three of them will be together forever. Now, I realize that if you hadn't read the novel or weren't familiar with the story, you should already know from the first two episodes that things do not turn out well for the three of them. However, if you're like me and have the memory of a goldfish, you probably didn't realize who everyone was in the first two episodes and even if you did, you've already forgotten long ago that Jiang Cheng was pissy and angry around Wei Wuxian and that Wei Wuxian's inner monologue reveals to us that JIang Yanli is dead. All that being said, his line about staying together forever hits a lot differently when you're very aware of how the story turns out, because Jiang Yanli dies, Jiang Cheng grows to hate Wei Wuxian more and more every day, and Wei Wuxian, of course, defects to save the Wens from slaughter. I think "let's stay together forever" is something you say and mean, but something that you know can't ever truly be. I think Jiang Yanli is old and wise enough to know that she will eventually marry and leave Lotus Pier, even though she will resist it for a while. The rest is uncertain, but I think at this point, Wei Wuxian really does believe and want to stay with the Yunmeng siblings and to stay at Jiang Cheng's side as he leads the Yunmeng Jiang Sect.

I will never not be heartbroken by this scene--even knowing how everything turns out--by how Lan Wangji looks at Wei Wuxian, how if things had been different in Yiling, he would have gone into that room and greeted him, how Wei Wuxian would have smiled at him and beckoned him inside, how they would have sat and Wei Wuxian would have talked Lan Wangji's ear off, like old friends. It's just so upsetting to me, and I can't ever shake that feeling in the pit of my stomach. I know what happens, but these two episodes, until they reconcile, really get to me. It's a horrible feeling when you want to help someone, but they don't see it as helping, and they only get upset with you. I deal with that on an almost daily basis, and I wouldn't wish that feeling on anyone. I really identify with Lan Wangji here, and I think that's why I get such a visceral reaction to seeing him like this.

I don't know if I've said this, but Lan Wangji is my favorite character in CQL and in every adaptation of this story. He is kind of my perfect character--he checks off all the boxes: one-sided love, pining, standing by the main character no matter what, practically abandoning his own family for the person he loves. I love that he has an almost child-like innocence, but he's still very wise; he's smart; he's strong; he has a strict moral code and he sticks to it without fail, even if it means going against his friends and family; he's a loner, but he loves deeply. When I first started watching the donghua and reading the novel, I liked Wei Wuxian the best, and he's still my second favorite character, but Lan Wangji has stolen my heart.

Of course, Wei Wuxian goes to this awkward dinner party, after spending three months around ghosts (and then killing a shit-ton of Wen soldiers), and all he can think about is that empty seat behind him, the one where Lan Wangji should be sitting. It's interesting how the Yunmeng siblings each react: Jiang Yanli starts to become concerned and commits it to memory. She's probably wondering why Lan Wangji isn't there, and then seeing how Wei Wuxian wistfully stares at the empty seat, she finds it even more unsettling. Jiang Cheng just seems embarrassed by Wei Wuxian here and his motivation is to get Wei Wuxian back on track so he doesn't make fools of the Yunmeng Jiang Sect in front of the other leaders. He obviously knows what happened between Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji, and I don't think he's bothered by it at all. He doesn't seem to care whether they're friends or not, and I'd say that even at this point, he'd prefer if Lan Wangji stayed out of Wei Wuxian's life altogether. He knows how close they were, and I think he also knows that Wei Wuxian would choose Lan Wangji over him if given that ultimatum. With Lan Wangji out of the picture, Jiang Cheng gets to maintain more control over Wei Wuxian than he otherwise would. Even later on at Lotus Pier, he wants Wei Wuxian around, helping him, being his right-hand man. He doesn't want him wandering around the city or galavanting off with other cultivators. Granted Wei Wuxian was drinking at the time, but I don't think that invalidates my point that Jiang Cheng wants Wei Wuxian to stay in line and stay at his side where he can control him. You know, because he sees the relationship (as Wei Wuxian suggested) as the same as their two fathers: where Wei Wuxian is in a subservient role to Jiang Cheng. Mind you, that's different from seeing him as a brother, and I think, while there's some of that mixed into his other feelings, it's a very small portion.

No screenshot, but the following scene, after Wei Wuxian leaves the dinner party, Jiang Cheng follows him out. And even here, he asks what's wrong--asks if he's upset because of Lan Wangji--but then scoffs at how that could really be what's bothering him. He says something like, "Why did you come here just to be disliked by him?" I think while he gets that they have a close bond, he doesn't really understand the depth of the relationship. He's jealous of Lan Wangji, but doesn't fully understand why. Ultimately, I think Jiang Cheng, because of his parents and the way he was raised, really doesn't understand what it's like to have a good relationship with anyone. And this ignorance isn't his fault--he's a product of his parents and surroundings, and no one, including himself, has ever tried to fix this. So, without being able to really understand how relationships work, he scoffs at how Wei Wuxian could still be upset over what happened with Lan Wangji. Jiang Cheng essentially gave Wei Wuxian what he wanted in that moment, which was unconditional support to carry out his revenge, and yet Wei Wuxian is hung up on Lan Wangji not being supportive there, and in fact being in opposition to him. Jiang Cheng doesn't even really have friends, so he thinks Wei Wuxian should just get over Lan Wangji and move on with his life, but it's not that simple. Lan Wangji isn't just an acquaintance, he's not just someone that Wei Wuxian partnered up with to fight a battle or carry out a mission--he's a soulmate, a kindred spirit (if you want to go down a less romantic route).

I rarely can say anything bad about Jiang Yanli (except how she's almost always making soup), and here's another example: Chenqing. She's so far the only one who supports Wei Wuxian having a first class spiritual tool. She immediately shows interest in the flute, even encourages him to give it a name. Lan Wangji immediately sees the flute as something bad, while she's completely supportive. And this is really what Wei Wuxian needs right now, and I love her for being there. She's also about the only person he will genuinely smile around. He gives everyone else forced or fake smiles, but not Yanli. At this moment, I think he only wants to be with her, and I can't really blame him when everyone else is either opposing him or just wanting something out of him. She really is coming from a place of sympathy and comfort that's different from how the others are handling things. Lan Wangji wants to help, yes, but he tries to force it.

Imagine being in this room, listening to Jin Zixun (I'm not even sure if that's his name lol) trash talk Wei Wuxian, wanting to say something in his defense, but being unable to, not just because it's not your place to do so, but also because you're not even sure if you can defend him anymore. I think Jiang Cheng is struggling with the same. He stands up to Jin Zixun, finally getting him to shut up by saying that it's a domestic affair for the Jiang Clan and none of his fucking business, but Jiang Cheng also struggles to find excuses for Wei Wuxian. And that would certainly be difficult, because Wei Wuxian is somewhat like a stranger now. He's similar, but he's not the same Wei Wuxian that Jiang Cheng grew up with. He's really a shadow of his former self. But Lan Wangji has the added bonus of not being able to speak on his behalf because he's not even in the same clan--who is he to defend Wei Wuxian? He can't even stand with the others at the table (can't or won't, I'm not sure), so he certainly can't speak to Wei Wuxian's honor in front of all the other leaders. I'm sure the conversation back in Yiling is still running through his mind: this is a Jiang Clan affair--and to have that repeated again to someone else. That very much puts Lan Wangji in the "other" position. He's not in Wei Wuxian's clan, therefore, it's none of his business. He should care about him. He shouldn't try to protect him. He shouldn't try to guide him. But the problem is he still cares deeply about Wei Wuxian, and he wants to help him and protect him and guide him.

These scenes are always hard to watch for me (thank god for the special edition cut). It's really hard to watch the clans doing to the Wens what the Wens have done to the other clans. As if war wasn't already terrible enough, you also have what happens to the prisoners of war. In this case, Wen Qing's sect are all healers and have little to do with the war that the rest of the Wen Clan was waging on the other cultivation clans. However, they are still treated as enemies and imprisoned. It's difficult to watch the other clans, who you want to root for, making the same mistakes and transgressions as the Wens, who we are supposed to look at as the proper enemies in the story.

As we've seen a few times in this episode already, Wei Wuxian is having trouble controlling all the negative energy that's surging through him and the Yin iron, and on some of those occasions, he's touched his old wound. As he does this here, everyone looks at him, but he just looks at Lan Wangji. This is the person he cares most about in this room, the person whose heart his closest to his. I have nothing profound to say--I just like it.

And of course Lan Wangji looks right back at him. He knows Wei Wuxian best, even better than his own "brother", Jiang Cheng. He knows what happened in Xuanwu Cave, he saw the effect the sword had on him. I feel like each time they exchange glances, they are both crying out to each other, but Wei Wuxian is too stubborn to ask for help and Lan Wangji doesn't want to force the issue and strain their relationship further.

The way Lan Wangji hesitates here before saying, "I don't know," kills me. To him, it's just further proof of how Wei Wuxian is getting farther and farther from him, how the chasm between them just keeps growing. He's upset here. He doesn't know what to do. He doesn't want to force Wei Wuxian to do anything--that's against his clan rules, but more importantly, against his own ethics--yet he doesn't want to stand by and do nothing while his friend destroys himself. I think we see Lan Wangji as a character who always knows what to do, someone who always knows the right path, but here we see how that's not true at all. This is a man who is very smart, very clever, but who is also unsure of himself. He's struggling with what's right and wrong. And he consults his brother here, hoping to get a clear answer, so that he'll know what to do next, but he gets nothing of the sort.

It would have been easier for Lan Wangji if his brother has simply said, "Wei Wuxian is wrong and an enemy," but of course he's more wise than that. Nothing is black and whit, and humans cannot be judged for what's on the surface. You have to look deep inside a person, know their intentions, and then you can judge if they are doing what's right or wrong. The problem is Lan Wangji doesn't know Wei Wuxian's intentions. Months ago, he know Wei Wuxian wanted to defend the weak, protect people who couldn't protect themselves, and live by such a just moral code. But now Wei Wuxian seems like a stranger, has murdered many, many people, and has taken cruel revenge upon Wen Chao and Wang Lingjao.

What I've noticed in this episode is that Wei Wuxian will look at Lan Wangji, but he always averts his eyes fairly quickly. It's as if he's afraid if they make eye contact for too long, he'll be letting Lan Wangji in, which he does not want to do under any circumstances. Letting Lan Wangji in means admitting what's going on as well as opening up Lan Wangji to danger. Wei Wuxian does not want anyone else getting hurt or dying because of him, so it's better to reject everyone and focus on his own clan.

Honey, I'd walk away too. It's hard to tell if Lan Wangji is about to cry or about to punch Wei Wuxian in the mouth--either one would have been excellent, but I'm leaning towards the latter. Lan Wangji had to answer Jiang Yanli. She met him by chance, but it was she who initiated the conversation. Of course, angst rules being what they are, we had to have a misunderstanding a la Wei Wuxian walking into the conversation midway and making the asinine assumption that Lan Wangji was just breaking his confidence by telling her EVERYTHING. Of course, anyone who knows Lan Wangji knows he'd never do such a thing. But when Wei Wuxian's shijie comes to him, voicing her concern and asking about him, he has no choice but to empathize with her and tell her what he knows.

I really like this little exchange. Reliving the fight on the rooftop, before they were acquainted, before they were friends--before Lan Wangji fell for him. This time when he attacks, it's not about malice, it's not about breaking the rules and bringing liquor into the Cloud Recesses--it's a man, looking at the one he loves, scared out of his mind, worried that that man is going to destroy his mind and body, using a taboo cultivation method. This fight is a love letter, as far as I'm concerned. It's an act of desperation.

Also I fucking love that around four or five people have asked Wei Wuxian where Suibian is, and each time he makes up a lie: he forgot it, he isn't in the mood, he didn't bother to bring it. But when Lan Wangji asks him, he doesn't respond. He doesn't lie, he doesn't laugh it off--whatever he does, Lan Wangji will know that he's lying, and Wei Wuxian knows that.

Other episodes: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | Or just check out the #CQL Rewatch hashtag

#wangxian #wei wuxian #lan wangji #cql #the untamed #jiang cheng #jiang yanli #mdzs #mo dao zu shi #wwx #lwj #ep 21 #cql rewatch

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behindheremeraldeyes · 3 years

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damirae week 2021

sunday, may 9th - soulmates & wedding/ honeymoon

title: you are my secret

summary: the universe wanted her to know his deepest secret, and even if it made things easier for her to find her soulmate, his secret came with heavier responsibilities than she could’ve expected. — Soulmates AU where they know each other’s secret. Ao3

There are some secrets that do not permit themselves to be told.

— Edgar Allan Poe

His secret revealed itself to her like a wave that crashes against the shore— all at once, all too much.

It came in a dark nightmare, chasing her like a horrific, shadowy figure. She had tried to run, scream for help, even, but no sound came from her sore throat. There was no place where she could hide, no one who could save her, and eventually, she was captured in that thing’s tight grasp. Though she didn’t know what was happening, fighting it proved itself worthless, as her small body refused to move a muscle. An ominous force enveloped her surroundings, and she could no longer see or hear anything.

Something lurked in those shadows— something bizarre and surreal— and chills ran down her body as her small world suddenly grew silent. Might have been seconds or days, she didn’t know, but eventually, screams erupted in her ears. Her eyes widened, then, tears running down her face as a wave of emotions swept her off her feet. Raven was having an epiphany. An unannounced realization of the truth in its rawest form, and instantly, the world was not the same.

And it would never be again, no. Not anymore.

She woke up with her lungs begging the world for air, sweat soaking the covers and a heart ready to burst out of her chest. Her eyes were frantically scanning the room, her pupils still fighting to adjust to the dim light that came with the first rays of sun. Her body was shaking uncontrollably, and before she knew it, her eyes were brimming with burning tears that ran down her cold cheeks. It was the most tragic, yet bewildering moment of her young life, and though she could not deny the fear taking over her senses, her mind had never been that clear before. She had never been more alive.

So this is how it feels, she wondered. Her fingers ran through her messy, dark locks that were falling forward; and it was as if she could feel her brain pulsating under her touch. Adrenaline rushed through her veins and thousands of new thoughts were trying to find a place to settle inside her head.

Raven was confused, yes. Disoriented, even. However, at that moment— at that unique and special moment where a whole new world seemed to reveal itself to her— she was sure of one particular thing that would change everything.

She knew his secret. Finally, the cosmic forces that rule the universe have revealed his best-kept secret to a 16-year-old girl. She knew that Damian Wayne is the man behind the green mask and yellow cape.

He is Robin.

He is her soulmate.

Initially, the idea itself seemed to have been taken from one of her old fantasy books; where the world is dystopian and reality follows no rule whatsoever. She had to be dreaming. Hallucinating, even, but the information was solidified in her core as one of her most visceral memories. No matter how much she has tried to— and she really did try— not even her sharp mind could deny that new discovery. She tried not to freak out, but it was hard not to overthink when her entire lifestyle was about to be jeopardized because of that one secret that was revealed to her.

Raven was but a normal, high-school girl. She had plans to go to college after graduating, and she wished for nothing more than a tranquil life after that. Though she was already familiar with the universe’s rule regarding pairing people who are, supposedly, very compatible, having a soulmate or not has never really entered the equation of her future, especially since she was decided not to let her life be dictated by it. From the very beginning, she refused to believe fate could ever control her with trivial things such as love and understanding, and at some point in her life, the raven-haired girl was ready to do anything to prove her point.

She was ready to defy the forces responsible for selecting two random individuals to be each other’s soulmates.

She was ready to go as far as she had to, but eventually, once her teenage-ish years got behind her, and her insubordination gave place to more reasonable thoughts; Raven decided she could settle for a person who could make her smile every now and then. A person who could share with her a simple life, and eventually, a simple love.

And with or without Robin, Damian Wayne himself could never give her simple.

For as long as she can remember, he has been in the cover of the magazines with his father, Bruce Wayne. He’s the heir of one of the most successful companies in the world and the favorite target of many paparazzi because of his cold and reserved personality. His life has always been exposed to the world— or, apparently, just some of it— and she has always believed them to be complete opposites.

Their worlds were galaxies apart. He didn’t fit any of her expectations, and she was sure she didn’t fit his either. And even if sharing a secret was supposed to bring them closer, his secret identity has only served to distance them even further.

Could two people so different like them ever find common ground? She didn’t know, however; the deed was done. They were walking around, living their own lives while carrying each other’s secrets, and one day— if things worked out as they are supposed to— they were bound to meet and stay together for the rest of their lives.

They didn’t know how, where or when, but it was going to happen. The universe was going to make sure of it. Damian Wayne and Raven were bound to fall in love, just like that. And until their special day could come, she was decided to keep on living her life as she had originally planned to.

Oh, how foolish of her.

The longer it took for their paths to cross, the clearer it became for her that a secret such as Robin’s real identity came with certain responsibilities she had never really prepared for. Just by knowing it, Raven was already included in a very selected and powerful group of people, who had no idea about her mere existence, let alone her true intentions. If anyone did as much as suspect that she knew about his identity, chances were her head would be on the line and Batman would be the first to pay her a visit at night. She could get into trouble—real trouble— and even without wanting to, she would eventually end up dragging her loved ones with her.

Her family and friends didn’t deserve to suffer the consequences of her future love life. She didn’t, either, but that was never a matter up for discussion. Raven had to keep them safe at all costs, and that was why, once her high-school days were over, the girl didn’t think twice before leaving it all behind and moving to Gotham city on her own. It was a very hard decision, but it was the right one if she wanted to keep them safe. It had to be. Also, if she were to live in Gotham, she might get a chance to meet him and properly introduce herself as his soulmate.

Like that would be easy…

With her impeccable grades and remarkable school records, it was easy for her to get into Gotham College, where she began her English Major. It wasn’t her dream college— far from it— but it would have to do for the time being. She found herself an apartment, and for it was Gotham city, it was cheap enough for her to afford it on her own. It wasn’t located in a fine neighborhood or anywhere worthy of a Wayne, but according to the owner, no one had died in there, so perhaps, that was a win.

Once settled in, it didn’t take her long to get to know his city. Apart from its terrible fame, Raven eventually found some nice places spread around the city. There were good bakeries, small bookshops, and there was this one park that took her breath away. Whenever she had time, she would go there to think about life or just breathe a little.

Life in Gotham wasn’t as bad as she had originally expected it to be. After almost five years, her ears were almost used to the constant symphony of sirens, and not even the weirdos dressed as clowns robbing the bank at least once a month took her sleep away anymore. Her eyes shone a little brighter whenever she saw the dynamic duo on the cover of the newspapers, and she would be lying if she said that her heart didn’t grow worried whenever she saw a building on fire or something of the kind.

Perhaps that was their connection as soulmates making her think more about Damian. Or, perhaps, that was just a stupid reaction evoked by her own mind growing anxious. She couldn’t quite tell anymore.

After so many years without as much as an interaction, Raven was starting to grow weary. When she first thought about living in Gotham, she believed it would be just a matter of time until their paths crossed and she could tell him they were soulmates. She actually believed that meeting him would be easy, but eventually, the raven-haired girl realized that Damian Wayne was almost as unreachable as his father.

She has never seen him walking on the streets by himself. Whenever he’s out of his mansion, hordes of people surround him and setting an appointment at his father’s company is nearly impossible for a girl like her. According to his secretary, his agenda is already full until May 2034, and even then there will be no guarantee that Mr. Wayne will be able to meet her. He’s a very busy man, for sure.

Still, her name is on the list, just in case.

A defeated sigh escaped her lungs as she was making her way home from work one Friday night. It was winter, and Gotham is a particularly cold city. A black scarf was wrapped around her neck and her arms were hugging her body so she could get a little warmer. It had been one of those days, and she honestly just wanted to get home and drink a warm cup of tea.

Her heeled boots were clicking against the concrete sidewalk as she followed the masses of employees towards the subway station. All of those people, herself included, were on their way home after another long week of work, and as Gotham citizens, none of them wanted to take longer than necessary to reach their destination. Though not decreed by the mayor, the city was under constant curfew due to the elevated crime rates, and those who were smart enough didn’t dare put their luck to test.

The clock was about to strike 9:45pm and she was casually waiting for the train to arrive at the platform. Raven watched as at least 40 people surrounded her, most of them entertained by their cellphones, and she couldn’t help but close her amethyst eyes for a moment so she could take a deep breath. She was tired, cold, and her stomach was begging her to be fed. She really just wanted to get home and get this day over with.

Unfortunately, Two Face’s minions had other plans.

Once the train stopped and its automatic doors opened, at least 20 men, all armed, walked out, pointing their guns at everyone. People were startled, the tension in the atmosphere thick enough to be cut with a knife, and even if there was no hysteric reaction from anyone, it was as if she could hear the strangled screams wanting to call for help.

“Good evening, ladies and gentlemen!” One of them started, showing off the gun in his hands. “I know you’re all dying to get home, but you’re not going anywhere until we’re finished with you.”

In all of those years she has been living in Gotham, that was the first time she was this close to real danger. Her eyes widened immediately, her heart skipping a beat as adrenaline started to kick in. There was a man at least 2 meters away from her, and if his finger did as much as slip, her brief life could come to an abrupt end. She was looking around the sea of people, and all Raven could see were hands being lifted in the air, but no one really trying to alert the authorities or call for help.

She swallowed dry, then, her mind focusing on the small girl all alone who was trembling in fear. Someone had to help them. Someone had to call the cops so they could take care of those bandits.

And apparently, that’s someone would be her.

Once she made up her mind, her icy fingers slowly reached for her coat’s right pocket and tried to get her cellphone without being noticed. Her heart was beating faster in fear of being discovered, but she didn’t stop. With her thumb, she pressed the main button, and even without seeing the device, she slid her finger to across the screen, hoping to have gained access so she could make an emergency call. She motioned her fingers to dial 911, and when she thought everything was going according to plan, one of the bandits looked at her, their eyes connecting, and she knew she had been caught.

“What do you have back there, doll?”

A smirk took over his smug face and her blood ran cold at the sight. Her lips trembled when he lifted his gun to point at her, and at that moment, she knew she was going to die. Her life was about to end and all because she was at the wrong place at the wrong time. Great timing, Raven, she thought. Or, perhaps, it wasn’t really that bad.

When the man was about to pull the trigger, his gun was knocked over his hand by a flying projectile. He winced in pain, catching everyone by surprise, and before anyone could notice, more projectiles came flying towards the other men. Her eyes followed the sound of metal hitting the floor, and her heart skipped a beat when she recognized the batarangs lying motionless on the concrete. They were here, at last. Help had finally arrived.

Before a smoke screen suddenly exploded near them, Raven thought she had seen his pointy ears and dark cloak coming from the celling and punching the one who was probably the leader on the face. At that moment, the sea of people started to dissipate as they all ran for their lives, like a scared herd of buffalos. People bumped on her shoulders as they passed through her, yet, her feet still refused to move from the spot as her eyes captured a glimpse of his yellow cape jumping in front of her.

Damian, she thought, her heart skipping a beat.

Perhaps it was the thrill of finally seeing him so close, but she just couldn’t bring herself to find an escape route. Raven knew she should be running towards a safer place, but something inside her spoke louder than reason itself. She couldn’t convince her feet to move away no matter how much she tried to, and soon, she realized why. Coming from behind the train, a new bandit showed up, pulling a smaller gun from behind his back. He was quick to aim it at the Boy Wonder, but what followed made her feel as if the entire world was suddenly trapped in a slow-motion picture.

Her eyes saw the man aiming that gun towards him while he was still engaged in another fight. An unexplainable fear took over her senses, and before she could even think things through, her body was already moving on its on. The raven-haired girl was running towards his yellow figure as fast as she could, her arms extending as she got closer. A loud shot was heard by the time she shoved him away from the approaching bullet, and as her eyes closed in pure reflex, Raven felt an arm snake around her waist, right before her feet lost contact with the ground.

She was flying. Her eyes remained closed, but during that fraction of a second, she knew she was flying.

Did she take that shot?

Was she dead?

Who was going to feed her cat?

And what about Damian? Was he okay?

Raven didn’t know. Her head was filled with all of those unanswered questions by the time she had landed, but her eyes were still closed in pure fear. Her hands were covering her face, and she could feel tears threatening to fall from her eyes.

If she wasn’t dead yet, she was definitely going to pass out real soon. Her head was spinning, her knees were about to give in and she just couldn’t find anything around her to keep her consciousness from slipping away. She was about to collapse. She was going to—

“Hey, what the hell did you do that for? Are you insane?!”

A harsh voice invaded her ears, and suddenly, she felt two hands on her shoulders. Her eyes shot open in reflex, and much to her surprise, the first thing she saw was that green mask of his. Their faces were standing so close that she could see the expression lines deforming his tanned skin as he was probably glaring at her. A scowl decorated his thin lips, and only then she realized how tall he actually is as his body towered over hers.

It was him. It was Damian, right in front of her. At last, fate had brought them together, and apparently, he was mad at her.

“Why did you push me like that? You could’ve gotten yourself killed!” He continued, her lips parting in awe. “Are you even listening to me!?”

“I-I…” She mumbled, her head still mixing all the words. “You were going to get shot. I thought— “

“I saw that guy back there. I was not going to get shot.” He released her shoulders, and she felt sparks running down her skin at the lack of contact. “Seriously, civilians these days. They think they can be heroes.”

“Hey, I was trying to help, okay!?” She answered, growing slightly irritated at his arrogance.

“Help? How? By getting killed? Thanks, I don’t need your help.”

“God, you’re such a jerk! Next time I’ll let you take that stupid shot!”

“I was not going to get shot!” He pouted, crossing his arms over his chest. “TT, whatever. I need to go back and help Batman. Get out of here and try not to get into any more trouble by saving strangers, okay?”

“I— What—?”

Her lips stumbled upon the words as she watched him turn around so he could return to the battlefield. All the anger that was taking over her disappeared and was replaced by a longing feeling she had never felt before. The cape that adorned his back swung as he walked away, her emotions growing anxious at the scene.

He was leaving. Damian was going back to his impenetrable world, and he didn’t even know her name. After almost 5 years, that was their first interaction, and however troubled it had been, it was still the only thing they had. Raven couldn’t let that chance slip away from her fingers, no. Not after everything she went through to meet him.

She bit her lower lip, then, but eventually, her eyes were filled with a confidence she didn’t know she possessed. She filled her lungs with fresh air and took a step towards him. “Robin, stop! I need to tell you something.”

“Not gonna happen.” He stated, not bothering to turn to face her. “I have a job to do and—”

“Damian, wait!”

His name rolled out of her tongue and she watched as his shoulder tensed. The world around them went mute, her chest tightening in response. His feet came to a stop, and slowly, he turned to face her once more. Raven could feel his eyes glaring at her with enough intensity to tear a hole in her skull, but she was decided not to back off. “What did you just say?”

“I-I… I know who you are.”

“You’re delusional.” He said, trying to deny her words. “You must have mistaken me for—“

“Damian, I know it’s you.” She spoke, confidently. “I know your secret. I’ve known it for almost 5 years now.”

His hands turned into fists, and in a blink of an eye, he walked back towards her. A mix of anger and bewilderment exhaled from him, and she could hear his heavy breaths moving his chest. His hands were once more on her shoulders, his grip tighter than last time in order to prevent her from escaping. “Who are you? Who told you about my identity?”

“You can call me Raven…” She started, her amethyst eyes on him. Though she knew he could end her life if he wanted to, she was not afraid. No of him. “And over five years ago, I’ve received your secret in a dream. I believe you also know a secret of mine.”

His grip on her loosened a bit, as if he was taken aback by her words. If anything, Damian is a very intelligent man, and at that moment, he certainly knew the meaning behind her words. He knew she was his soulmate. However, she didn’t know what he would do about that.

“Shit.” He mumbled, quickly taking his hands off her. She saw his eyes squinting as he observed her, his hands turning back into fists. “This shouldn’t be happening right now.”

“I know. I didn’t mean to follow you here or anything, but—“

“You have to go, Raven.”

“What?”

“Get out of here. Now!” He commanded, his voice not leaving any space for discussion.

“But Damian, I—“

“Don’t call me that!” He scolded her. “Get out of here and go home. I need to get back there and help Batman.”

“And what about us!? I can’t leave and wait for another miracle to bring us together. I know you have things to do, but we need to do something about this! Don’t push me away!”

“I’m not pushing you away, Raven! I—“

“Yes, you are! I’m not going anywhere! Not until—“

“Will you just shut up?!” Suddenly, she felt his hands pulling her closer by her coat, and in a rough move, he sealed her cold lips with his warm ones. Her heart was racing inside her chest, her mind spiraling as she tried to understand what on earth was going on.

Damian was kissing her. That or he just wanted her to stop talking, really. Still, their lips were touching and as something inside her lit up, it was as if all of that anxiety gave in. Her breath was caught up in her throat, and all the words she had planned on using to prove her point were now completely forgotten.

“Can’t you see I’m trying to protect you?!” He pulled away, his hands still clutching her coat. His cheeks were tinged in a light shade of red, as he continued to scold her. She could feel his grip loosening, and slowly, he bit his lower lip. “Just find somewhere safe, Raven… I’ll find you again, I promise.”

His voice came out as a tender whisper, knocking down whatever was left of her previous bravery. Her entire body was growing warmer, now, and even if she had been afraid of letting him go, Raven knew she should follow his words and seek shelter somewhere. He was going to find her once everything was over, he told her, and oddly enough, she knew she could trust him.

A weak nod was all she could give him at that moment, but it proved itself enough for him. He nodded back, and after holding onto her stare for a second longer, Robin turned away and ran back to where the fight was happening. She watched him as he disappeared in the distance, and though she didn’t want to see him go, her warm heart didn’t break.

He was coming back for her; she knew it. He would find her again.

And until then, Raven was going to wait for him.

Once she recovered from all the things that had happened, the raven-haired girl looked away and started to run towards the exit of the subway station. She didn’t look back nor did she doubt his words, instead; she ran away, looking for a place to hide.

———————

Waiting for him, she discovered, was a lot easier now that they had something palpable connecting them. The days went by faster. Soon, winter melted into spring, and for the first time in her life, the flowers seemed more colorful than before. The weather was warm, birds were chirping, and Gotham city seemed to welcome the sun into its dark streets.

Her world had changed after that day. It was only natural, she knew, now that she had finally met the person she was destined to be with for the rest of her life. It was weird and unsettling, at first, but she came to terms with it after she had time to sleep on it and demystify a thing or two about finally meeting her soulmate.

The first and most important thing: she was not in love with him. At least, not yet. Meeting her soulmate for the first time didn’t make her fall in love with him at first sight like some people like to say. It didn’t change her life as much as she had expected it to, and if she were to be honest, Raven was quite happy about it.

She wanted to understand why they were so compatible before giving in to fate. She wanted to understand him without anything clouding her thoughts, and she wanted him to do the same about her.

Above all, Raven wanted them to have a choice. And if they ended up choosing each other, well, then they would think about what that meant later.

For now, as she rested her elbows against the metal rail that offered her a clean view of the lake, she was just focusing on enjoying her Sunday off. There was a book inside her bag, and she was decided to read a couple of chapters before heading home and getting ready for another week of work.

Just another ordinary day, or so she thought, until he arrived.

From the corner of her eyes, she saw as the young man walked towards her, his hands hidden inside the pockets of his hood. His hair was darker than hers, skin tanner and eyes colored in an emerald green. He stood still, some good 11 inches separating them, and though his face was hidden, she knew it was him.

At last, he had found her.

“You know, you’re not the easiest person to track, Roth.” He started, his voice calm as the wind brushed his cheeks. He was looking at the lake in front of them, and unlike last time, he seemed to be at peace. “Certainly took me longer than I expected.”

“Well, I guess that’s a good thing about being a nobody, right? There are a lot of people like me out there.”

“Maybe.” He sighed, his head now turning to face her as she did the same. “Still, I’m a pretty good detective.”

“With a very good self-esteem, too.” She offered him a small smile, to which he simple smirked.

A moment of silence took over them, as both of the young adults allowed that pure moment to sink in. There was no rush or anxiety lacing their feelings at that moment, much to their contentment, for they could absorb every minor detail of what would be the beginning of the rest of their lives.

“Why didn’t you tell anyone about my secret identity?” He asked, honestly, and her brows furrowed in awe.

In all of those years that she has held onto his secret, never once has Raven considered the idea of telling anyone about it. It was illogical. Irresponsible, even. Had she spoken to the world about who’s the man behind the green mask, his life would’ve been ruined in levels she could never imagine. It could get him killed. And if anything, she didn’t want anything bad to happen to him.

“It was never mine to tell. I could never reveal your secret, Damian.” She spoke, simply, and a smile threatened to tug at his lips.

“Fair enough.” He nodded, letting out a long sigh. “If it helps, I didn’t tell anyone about your secret, either. Though I doubt anyone would be interested to know there was a girl out there who’s afraid of popping balloons.”

A sincere chuckle escaped the depths of her core, and that alone brought a smile to his face. Of all the secrets she holds, that one childish thing was the one chosen to be revealed to him. The forces of the universe certainly weren’t kind to him, even if that was probably not a common fear out there. Still, there were definitely more people who were afraid of popping balloons than fighting crime as Batman’s iconic sidekick. His secret made him unique.

His secret has brought them together.

“I guess not even your detective skills could help you on that, right?”

“It would’ve taken me a lot of time if I were to use just that information, but I’m sure I would’ve found you.”

“Oh, and how can you be so sure?”

“I just know it. We were bound to meet, anyway, so there’s no point in debating how.”

“Yeah, I guess you’re right.” She agreed, not wanting to press on useless matters. They were together now, and that was all she cared about.

“Also, after that day, even in the middle of that crowd, I saw you first. I didn’t really understand why at first, but I guess it has something to do with this thing.”

“Probably. I know little myself, to be honest. Thought that when I found you, things would make a little more sense.”

“And how’s that going so far?”

“Honestly?” She asked, tilting her head to the right, her short hair brushing her cheeks. “I still have no freaking clue of what to do next.”

“That makes two of us, then.” He sighed, leaning forward and resting his arms over the metal rail. His hood was still covering his head, and even if she knew better, Damian looked like a normal guy at that moment. He didn’t look like the son of Bruce Wayne, let alone Batman’s partner.

At that moment, he was just a normal guy talking to a normal girl about normal things. And for a reason she couldn’t quite understand, that brought her peace. Perhaps they weren’t so different, after all.

Perhaps they could even make it work.

A tender smile took over her lips, and slowly, she took a step closer to him. Raven extended her hand towards him, and her eyes watched as he quirked an eyebrow in confusion. “Why don’t we start from the beginning, then? I know you’ve skipped a few steps when you kissed me the other night, but… Whatever. I’m Rachel, but you can call me Raven.”

His eyes watched her for a moment too long, and it was as if she could see the wheels turning inside his head. Eventually, though, a sly smile took over his lips, and he reached out for her hand. His hand was calloused, but his touch was warm; and together, they shook hands. “Damian. Nice to meet you, Raven.”

“Nice to meet you, too, Damian.”

There was really no telling what would happen, or even if anything would happen at all. Still, at that moment, both of them were ready to try it. They already knew each other’s secrets so, perhaps, they could try to learn another thing or two.

fin.

-----------

a/n: I had this idea while browsing Pinterest for some Soulmate AU ideas and I LOVED writing it! Honestly, this is my very first soulmate AU ever and I really enjoyed playing with this weird scenario. It’s by far the one theme I loved the most to write, and I hope you’ve enjoyed it! Please, tell me what you think!

#damirae #damirae fanfiction #damian x raven #damirae week 2021 #demonbirds #mydamiraefics

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utterlyinevitable · 3 years

Note

So it isn't forgotten...

thanks for popping this in my inbox! not really sure where i was going with this but i hope you enjoy it nonetheless 💞💞

follow up to this hc: Ethan Finds Out MC is PictaFamous

Ethan Confronts MC About Being Pictafamous

“What?” MC askes quizzically after a DT meeting. Everyone had already left to begin their assignments and she was slowly packing up. MC could feel Ethan’s eyes on her and his unease (awkwardness?) towards her the last few days.

She said it with such force that it took Ethan aback, standing in the middle of his office like a fish.

“You’ve been weird. What’s going on?”

Ethan shut his mouth and shook his head to himself than anything.

“So... you’re not going to tell me?” MC crosses her arms over her chest and completely abandons the rest of her days work - getting this man to open up is more important.

The way she was eyeing him Ethan couldn’t help but go on the defensive. “Is there something you’re not telling me.”

It was her turn to stand there slack-jawed.

Ethan matched her form. The two standing their arms crossed and not sure about what the other was hinting at.

Well Ethan knows, he’s just deflecting by coaxing MC to read his mind.

“About what?” she said incredulously.

He doesn’t know what possessed him to tell the truth (deep down he knows it’s because he hates MC being mad at him) but he did. “About your employment during undergrad.”

Her brows furrowed, “Lifeguarding? You have a qualm about me not telling you I spent summers saving lives? Seriously?”

Ethan knew she was a lifeguard, it was on her CV. And on her Pictagram...

Again he shook his head, dropping his fists to burrow in his pockets. This certainly wasn’t the right time to bring it up but it’s the one the universe allotted.

He let out a hefty sigh. “I’m sorry.”

Her reaction was all but visceral waiting for the shoe to drop.

“I was on that Picture app and saw some things.”

Again her brows furrowed as she tried to piece together the puzzle of all he’s left in subtext. Ethan was scrolling Pictagram. Ethan only follows MC.

Her eyes widened with realization.

Oh.

Wait what?

Yeah she started posting thirst traps once in a while after he started following her.

Lucky for her he continued. “While I can appreciate the artistic styling and technique of your previous pictures, why didn’t you tell me you’re one of those... Influencers?”

The way he said it was a mix of hurt for not sharing this part of her life when she’s always so open with him, and shame for caring. And something else...

Well this isn’t the turn she thought this conversation was going to go. She was fully expecting for him to tell her how she shouldn’t pose in swimsuits or any of the other posts targeted with an audience of one. But that requires him to actually know he’s the intended.

“Anyone with an HD camera and the smallest idea of tagging keywords can garner attention on social media,” MC says.

They both knew she was leaving out the key to being a Pictamodel... sex appeal.

“I wasn’t famous. It wasn’t a job. Just a pastime I gave up when I started taking my career seriously. It’s a bit of fun.”

Ethan still couldn’t wrap his head around it.

“Why?”

She rolls her eyes. “Get with the times, old man.”

He shoots her a pleading look. One that says he really doesn’t understand.

She shrugs. “I don’t know. It’s a thing to do.”

“Can I ask something?”

“Sure?”

“Did you ever want to be one of those people?”

“A famous pictamodel?” she rephrases with a smirk. “No, I’d much rather be a famous diagnostician.”

He smiles, small and private. Blue eyes shining and the weight that’s been following them has lifted completely.

A moment passes with them just looking at one another. Ethan happy that he does know her - doesn’t need to know her entire past to really truly know the woman she is. MC watching him go through a range of emotions and knowing him well enough to push her luck.

“If you’d like to see any of the prints I haven’t posted all you have to do is ask.”

MC winked then walked out.

Leaving Ethan standing there with lots of conflicting emotions. All of them hopefully willing him to take her up on her offer.

____________________

Perma:

@lucy-268 @thegreentwin @queencarb @danijimenezv @starrystarrytrouble @terrm9 @interobanginyourmom @maurine07 @mercury84choices @schnitzelbutterfingers @the-pale-goddess @whimsicallywayward15 @mvalentine @mm2305 @rookie-ramsey @drariellevalentine @withbeautyandrage @forallthatitsworth @stateofgracious @missmiimiie @uneravine @iemcpbchoices @sophxwithers @therookie @quixoticdreamer16 @lsvdw-blog

@adiehardfan @headoverheelsforramsey @dickgraysonsscrumptiousbooty @reputaytion-xiii

Ethan:

@udishaman @binny1985 @honeyandsunfl0wers @wingedhairstylemusicweasel @ohchoices @dulceghernandez @blossomanarchy @stygianflood @caseyvalentineramsey @openheartthot @senseofduties @tsrookie @kalogh @aworldoffandoms @takemyopenheart @casey-v @ethanramseylover @a-crepusculo @randomperson111 @lilypills @anntoldst0ries @nix-grey @aishaaaaaaah @estellaelysian @mysticaurathings @mayarambles

#open heart #open heart hc #choices open heart #ethan x mc #ethan ramsey #ethan ramsey x mc

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sassooda · 3 years

Text

Worlds Away / Chapter 40 - One in the Same 🔞

w/c - 6,476

“Love…”.

As Satoru positions himself back on the bed with a heavy heart, he wonders how long he’ll be without her voice. Elska lies there unconscious, in her own queen-sized bed a few feet away from Naoya who is also in the same condition but in a separate bed. The room Satoru mentioned to everyone before has become their new quarters but with his own personal flare. The five walls are a deep blue-grey, the trim a dark red, all decorative furnishings either that same red or a bright light blue. The sheets both of the sleepers are wrapped in resemble the color of love. This was all designed and put together as a surprise but things haven’t exactly gone as planned.

As he situates himself next to her, Gojo finds that he desires the comfort of her heartbeat. Laying his head on her chest, he relives the horrors of when he and Choso arrived to find them. He’s weighted with guilt, having become too distracted by his mother to focus that day. ‘What did they have to go through?’, he can only imagine having seen the scene himself. Although he wasn’t particularly bothered by the gore, Choso’s reaction said it all as normal people would easily have been mortified. Gojo’s heart also sinks from the sin of dealing with the woman who gave birth to him, even if she was monstrous herself.

“My love…”, his voice is broken from emotion as he whispers to her caringly, “Please come back to me.”. He’s been informed by Nanami and the others that Toji once found her in this same state, taking 6 days to wake up previously. This information doesn’t comfort him however after perceiving the devastation her, Naoya and Toji must have experienced. ‘…and we still haven’t found him yet.’. Satoru knows for a fact that if she wasn’t mentally compromised from the attack, not having Toji will certainly destroy her.

He positions her arms to lay over him, as if she’s wrapping them around his own. Gojo is still reeling from his own experiences that day on top of everything else. The heartache that dwells within him after killing his mother plagues him as if she still existed, only differently. “Love, I didn’t know it would hurt.”. A tear spills from each of his darkened eyes, remembering the vexation that woman caused him for his entire life. There certainly wasn’t any love lost between them but a piece of him died with her and he can’t explain why. In this moment, he only needs to be held by his love. As he listens to the rhythm in which her heart pumps, he feels like he’s brought to a point of necessary, although temporary ease. Bringing her even closer lowers him deeper into security, feeling safe and nurtured by her touch alone. Her and Naoya have only been out for roughly 18 hours at this point, leaving him to also dread how much time he’ll be without her.

**KNOCK, KNOCK**

Without moving at all, Satoru calls for them to enter and sighs as he feels close to losing his composure. He decides to not hide his despair for lack of current ability.

Choso quietly strolls in and takes in Satoru’s depression. He’s apprehensive about how unstable Gojo’s been since coming back to the academy but appreciates how much the man is going through. A slight grin appears across Choso’s face though as he looks over Gojo’s clothes, they’re both wearing their group-matching pajamas. Upon approaching Naoya, Choso pulls back the covers to further evaluate him, wanting to be sure all wounds were healed. He says to his friend, “You are one fortunate man…”, and pulls the sheets up with a smile. He then takes Naoya’s hand with relief on mind, understanding that Naoya will likely be happy at the fact that he was turned. Choso has reservations about this but they’re not strong enough for him to speak on.

Megumi now enters and walks straight over to Elska, on the opposite side from Gojo. He’s still in a state of shock after being filled in on the aftermath. He’s in a foul disposition not knowing where Toji is and is even further upset with how messed her and Naoya looked upon being retrieved. When he reaches out to take up Elska’s hand, his is swatted away, causing him to lower deeper into his anger.

“Leave her alone.”, Gojo growls from Elska’s chest. He immediately feels bad for snapping at Megumi but that was the only warning he was capable of. The hurt displayed on his former student’s face that he catches out of the corner of his eyes prompts him to sit up a little. “I’m sorry Megs, I just… she’s mine.”.

Megumi is feeling disheartened by his current fears on his father’s whereabouts and feels almost completely alone as he drowns in his thoughts. The territorial stance made on Elska causes him to snap, “She is her own person, you’re fucking delusional!”. As his breath catches in his throat, he waits for Satoru to respond maliciously but becomes confused when he doesn’t. ‘I just want to make sure she’s ok…’.

Choso walks over to Megumi and speaks with purpose, “Please let Gojo have time with her, he’s been through a lot…”, and nods as if to reiterate there still are things Megumi is unaware of. Choso sees the discontent on Megumi’s face and can feel the boy’s presence fluctuating so he continues, “And we will find Toji, I promise you. He loves you, you know…”. He watches Megumi’s eyes become glossy as he tries to fend off the tears so Choso hugs him. “I’m sure he’s ok, we just have to get to him…”.

Megumi usually wouldn’t accept the embrace but he feels so incredibly small and useless. He finds Choso’s need to comfort him endearing and wishes he’d been kinder to the being in the past, knowing now how well he means. “I…I miss my dad…”, he meant for it to be a statement but the clarification is muddled by the sorrow in his voice and it only strengthens as Choso continues to try and soothe him.

“Just come back later Megs…I know you’re worried too…”, Satoru doesn’t make eye contact but his voice is genuine. “I just need to be with her right now…”. He now curls back up into Elska and sighs deeply. “She would be angry if I kept everyone from her…”, and Satoru knows this is a fact but is still not budging on the current meeting.

Megumi wasn’t expecting Gojo to offer time up so he doesn’t know how to respond. With a fake scoff he replies, “I will then.”, and heads towards the door. Before leaving he stops and turns around to face them once more, “Shoko is awake now and she wants to see you Gojo.”, then shuts it behind him.

Satoru is aware that they have a prisoner underneath the school and Shoko likely has important information to give to him, he just hasn’t the motivation to move. He buries his face into Elska further, wanting to escape his current duties and pretend they’re just napping together. “Please come back.”.

After a few seconds, Choso exhales, “I’m glad Shoko’s alright.”. After being teleported to Elska’s location, he had to carry her back through his portal while Gojo grabbed Naoya. Choso immediately began to heal Naoya after they returned to the academy but they were soon met with Nanami who requested him to see to Shoko’s head injuries as well. Choso recalls that while he was navigating through his shadow realm that Elska’s energy once again lingered behind them and even seemed to stain some of the surroundings. He’s always been curious as to why hers behaves differently than everyone else. While lost in his thoughts, he’s jolted back to the present as Gojo begins to cry next to Elska.

“Gojo…”, Choso was caught off guard but feels he needs to allow privacy as he doesn’t know what to do. The terrifying Silver Shaman condenses before him, leaving a new wave of misery within his very being. Choso’s still shaken up by the events that took place with everyone and has yet to properly deal with the emotions flowing through him. He glances over to Naoya for a second and then internally declares he will return later. He hears Gojo plead for him to wait so he turns around and utilizes patience as Satoru collects himself.

“We…We have to find Toji.”, Satoru finds himself worried with the possibilities that could be his friend’s fate. Choso nods so he says, “Please, please search for him.”. Gojo looks down at Elska who has yet to show signs of waking, “For both of their sakes, we need to get him back.”. Now darting cold eyes to back to Choso, “I will kill whoever I need to. I will fucking explode every last one of them. This is what they deserve.”. Satoru’s eyes narrow as he thinks of who this Genghis is and how that man is likely responsible for organizing the horrific event. ‘He at least helped Getou…’.

Choso felt a chill crawl down his spine while listening to Gojo. ‘He very well means it.’, crosses his mind but he’s actually reinforced by the statement because he has his own revenge that occupies the same goal. He straightens himself while looking at Satoru, “We will find them and we will end them.”. Choso now brings his gaze to Elska for the first time and finds his dark thoughts fading, beginning to feel consumed by irrational emotions that stem from her condition as well. He has this completely visceral knot that tells him to remain near her but he can’t justify why so he thinks its best not go far at least. “I’m going to try some mapping but I’ll be nearby if needed…”, Choso now reluctantly opens the door and leaves.

Snuggling back into Elska, Satoru closes his eyes and tries to steady his breathing. “Everything’s so fucked up, love.”, he regretfully informs her as she sleeps. Wanting to be even closer to her, he now takes her right leg and hoists it over himself. He pulls down the front of her slip but only so he can her skin against his cheek. “They will pay for this…”, he seethes as he thinks about the new trauma her and Naoya had to live through at the hands of the Titers. “Genghis and Getou…”, his partnered enemies. He opens his eyes to slight movement. “Love?”. Slowly she begins to stir more, moving her legs and arms to in an attempt to regain awareness. Satoru hurriedly sits up and looks down to her with endearing hope.

Elska is coming to already and smiles sweetly once she opens her eyes to see Satoru. “My sweet Sati…”, she raises her arm to hold his cheek, only now detecting his anxieties. This realization triggers her though as the ominous memories play back in her mind. She instantly screams at the top of her lungs and is sent into a hysterical state once again. She doesn’t know that she’s flailing around during this until she feels Satoru anchor his body around her to prevent her from harming herself. She struggles against him though as she continues to wail. “THE CHILDREN!”, rips through the room and Satoru understands kids must have been present in the attack.

Satoru whimpers regrettably and holds her while her heart breaks. As her cries echo the otherwise silent room, he feels his heart responding, “My love, I’m so sorry…”. He rests his chin above her head as she begins to settle, although her sobs are still incredibly fierce. Her breath can be felt against his chest and neck as she heaves air in this dismantled state. He squeezes her tighter and reminds her, “I’m here love, I’m here. You’re safe now…”. He begins to tear up too as her voice goes silent and strains to make a high-pitched, fading squeak, the fact that she’s as broken as he assumed absolutely wrecking his confidence on the matter but he repeats, “You’re safe now.”, and kisses the top of her head. Satoru notices how strong her presence is and thinks that the whole campus should be aware of her waking.

Choso heard and felt her so he runs back into the room. “ELSKA!”, he continues his pace to the side of the bed where Megumi was and sits down. The sounds that leave her compel him to place a hand on her side as she’s still overlapped by Gojo. She seems to respond to him and calms down slightly but with wide and teary eyes he looks to Gojo who’s just as unnerved by the situation. He hears her say, “They made Toji…kill. They crushed…Getou…he crushed the children…”, and to these words, a tear falls from the beings face. ‘Getou has no qualms with killing innocents…’, but he keeps this information to himself while deciding he should share the tragedy of his brothers eventually.

Elska is slowly comprehending that the horrible sights behind her eyes are of the past but is still riddled with mourning. Understanding that the men have no idea of what all happened she forces herself to compose the best she can and tries to sit up. Satoru only took a second to understand so he is soon helping her. She remembers everything from the attack, which is different than how it’s happened in the past. With weary and swollen eyes, she looks at the two before her and says, “They tried to kill Naoya…”, she glances between Satoru and Choso, “His heart actually stopped.”, the fear of her prince dying reclaims its stance. “He blocked the spear meant for me…”, she looks over and sees him there laying motionlessly and begins to panic.

Choso can see her apprehension as her eyes drift to Naoya and says, “He’s right there Elska”, and grabs her hand as he can only imagine how awful that was, “He is stable and with new energy.”. Her eyes light up but then become watery again as she quietly speaks, “But they took Toji with t…them couldn’t protect both…”, and feels his lips quiver as she deteriorates before them again. Choso’s hand is now on her leg so he brushes the spot to provide additional security. “Knowing that helps, I will find him Elska.”.

Satoru feels Megumi and Itadori approaching the room so he yells, “NOT RIGHT NOW!”, and becomes satisfied when they stop. Looking back to Elska he grabs her shoulders and kisses her forehead, “Love I am going to fix all of this.”. He lifts her chin to him and with complete determination radiating from his eyes, “Everything is going to be ok. I will show no mercy.”, and she seems to be consoled by the darkness exuding him. He kisses her cheek and whispers, “We will paint the city with their blood.”.

Elska feels like his dark nature is nurturing her very soul. In a strange wave of reassurance, the calamity within her lessens so she finally begins to settle into him. While closing her eyes and taking a deep but jagged breath however, the familiar voice ricochets through her.

‘FEED FROM THE HYBRID’

Her eyes jolt open and she slowly turns her head towards Choso who’s still sympathetically rubbing her leg. She questions if she should but understands there is a reason she’s being prompted to do so.

‘YOU WILL SOON BE WHOLE’

With a mousey voice, “Sati?”, she feels through his chest, his “Yes my love?”, and pulls away from him, “I need to feed from Choso.”.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea love, why would you say that?”, Satoru is afraid that she will repeat history and is adamant about making things better not worse. He looks over to Choso who shares his reluctance and eyes him in a way to warn that it isn’t going to happen. “Love what if you lose control?”, he doesn’t understand what she could be thinking but fears it doesn’t matter as her eyes begin to glow. “Love…”.

Elska adjusts herself to her knees and holds her own body, “I think the other me is me.”. When she looks up to them both she can tell they’re confused by that but she proceeds, “I have to do it.”. She launches herself over top Choso and pins his arms down, “Choso I’m so sorry!”. She sees that Satoru has warped to that side of the bed in an attempt to reach her so she growls. He seems to be hurt by this so she adds, “JUST TRUST ME!”, and feels less anxious as he slowly pulls his hands away from her.

Choso’s in shock beneath her, not being sure as to why this is happening or if he should fight her or not. He darts his scared eyes to Gojo fearing that this won’t go over well but is confused as the Silver Shaman seems to retract. He now looks at Elska and can tell she’s not liking how she placed him in this position and suddenly feels at ease. ‘Was this why I wanted to stay?’. He nods to her and lays back down into the bed as her fangs pierce him shortly afterwards. Choso instantly moans and latches onto her, feeling one of his bent legs touching the floor kick out reflexively. She whimpers near his ear and it causes him to melt in place while she pulls from him. After a few seconds her left hand laces into his hair and grips the strands to pull his head more to the side, him closing his eyes and complying. She soon is grinding against him, exuding pleasurable noises which would have been his main focus if her presence wasn’t darkening so rapidly.

Gojo is cautiously monitoring the situation and feels he should stop it when her gestures turn sexual. Hearing her moan seductively into Choso leaves a bad taste in his mouth but remembers he chose to trust her. He knows this is the other Elska now but her words haunt him, “I think the other me is me.”, bringing him into a new state of contradiction as he thinks about how he’ll handle this if shit hits the fan. As he watches her free hand sail from Choso’s chest to underneath her he can’t help himself, “LOVE!”.

Elska grabs Choso’s member and squeezes it. She hears him quietly yelp and hums to his growing as she begins to fondle him further but eventually stops and closes the being’s puncture marks. ‘FOCUS’. Sitting herself over him she inhales deeply before looking down, “It’s incredible, how arousing your blood is…”, and manically looks down to his flushed expression, “…but it makes sense.”. She can tell Satoru reaching out behind her so she quickly grabs his wrist and flings him overhead and onto the bed next to Choso. She relishes in the shaman’s surprise to her strength and chooses to say in the lowly voice, “My favorite human…”, and grinds on Choso again instinctively, meaning the gesticulation for Satoru. Before either of them can say anything she continues, “She is right, we are one in the same…”. Still feeling overcome with desire she takes Satoru’s left hand and forces it upon her breast and whimpers when he grabs it. ‘FOCUS’, cascading through her mind. “They took my beloved but I believe they were meaning for me. I became too confident and played with the Titers, I was having fun.”. She feels the anger race across her expression as the failure surges within her again. “When the mind was repressed, we split into two in order to salvage as much as possible.”, she looks to Satoru with devious eyes, “We would’ve slowly gone mad otherwise.”. Neither of them are speaking, giving her the floor so she turns her glowing gaze to Choso, “You and I are almost exact in product, we were just born differently…I am half curse as well.”.

Choso’s eyes widen to this immensely as many pieces fall into place. Her energy that lingers, her ability to sense the darkness within him, the fact that his blood fuels her. He breaks his gaze with Elska to turn to Satoru who seems to be thinking but isn’t overly sharing his true feelings on the matter. Her presence increases rapidly again so he quickly looks back to her and becomes afraid as she licks her lips at him. She says, “If Sati wasn’t here, I’d take you right now…”, and he feels her hand caress the side of his face but holds his breath not knowing what that exactly meant. ‘Does she mean…’, and looks down at his lap as she sinks her weight into him. He cries out, “Elska NO!”, but feels himself being pinned by her again.

“Elska…”, Satoru is not sure as to what is going on but knows he should tread lightly with his disgust of her harboring secret desires for Choso. She looks to him expressionlessly but the attention was enough, “…Love, I’m sorry for doing this to you.”, he feels the shame in his heart and almost as if she could read his mind she says, “This was a war waged far before you were born sweet Sati. My ancestors and those of the Zenin and Titer clans started this centuries ago. A tragic love story…”. While still remaining her eyes on Satoru, “A Zenin once loved a woman from the Oda clan but their union was rejected for her clan’s lack of status. Oda’s were not inherently shaman and suffered in servitude to the major clans for this and many other reasons. An intelligent and unusually empathetic curse heard their plight and decided to offer them a deal. The Oda’s would evolve, allowing them capabilities of harnessing cursed energy. The heartbroken woman accepted without understanding what would be waged allowing the curse to manifest itself into fragments to take form in every Oda. The Titers, who were then one of the major clans, saw this as a threat and manipulated the time continuum to relocate the Oda’s to a place where they would not have to fear their dark powers.” She exhales, “The curse’s stipulations were for the Oda’s to end humanity by turning them into similar but lesser beings which would eventually allow the curse to take physical form once again.”. Gojo is left in awe by this explanation. ‘A Zenin?’, and turns his head to Naoya and contemplates on the unexplainable connection Elska and Naoya have always had. He realizes something and tells her, “The Zenin’s want you apart of their clan this time…”, his eyes unfasten completely, “…The Titers do too now.”, he thinks of his mother’s words that confirmed they want to breed with her.

“Yes but they foolishly misunderstand their place. The Titers never have and never will be able to control me. Their thoughts otherwise on this are contrived.”. Elska now thinks of Suguru. “I drank from Getou and learned a great deal, he’s merely their powerful puppet. I believe I placed enough doubt in his mind though, if he’s worth anything he will realize his own will.”. Choso and Gojo both wear expressions of mortification that she ignores, “If he ends up agreeing with his clan then I’ll be forced to act however.”, She grins frenziedly, “They do not properly comprehend that their fate rests on my whims.” Her eerie smile fades, “What they’ve done however, I will require lives to pay for it.”. She looks over to Naoya and winces to the reminder that he suffered greatly, “My prince will soon awaken. His DNA synthesis rapidly took course and it was unlike anything we’ve ever seen…”. Merely gazing upon her blonde lover quells her strength, “He has an adverse effect on my existence, he drains me of my ability to stay in this form…”, she looks back to Choso, “…which is why I need to become whole. You can make this possible.”.

Gojo is trying to make sense of this new information and is categorizing his brain for this purpose. When her eyes meet his own again she grins and says, “I will have you too when the time is right. You’re a variable in all of this, the Gojo’s have never had a turned amongst their ranks and with your innate power, I am hesitant to expose you to this needlessly. In theory I will be your master but your soul particularly is already so darkened that I am forced to question what your nature will be.”. Satoru has never discussed becoming like her but a small part of his heart is mended knowing that he’s not left out of her collection. “Love, I would be willing if you saw fit.”, he removes his hand from her breast and brings it to her face. She seems to like being addressed this way which cements the fact for him that they really both are Elska. ‘She refers to me as Sati too.’.

Elska abruptly dips back down into Choso’s neck and bites him again. His cursed blood reanimates through her veins and feels herself growing even stronger. The thought of wiping out the Titers and rescuing her beloved mix with the sensations the being gives her causing her to moan deeply. She feels him growing more underneath her again and smiles into him and wishes that she didn’t need his permission to turn him.

‘HE IS NOT READY YET’

Despite her current ecstasy, she yanks her head up and huffs with annoyance before closing the wounds. “Sometimes I grow fucking tired of your voice.”.

‘Who is she talking to?’, Choso feels his brow furrow as he recalls the other times she seemed to speak to no one. He’s reading that she’s now agitated and wonders if he shouldn’t make a break for it soon. He thinks about Naoya and Toji, how they would be losing their shit if they were witnessing this and doesn’t want to be at the receiving end of Gojo’s wrath either.

“You need not run…”, Elska sighs to the obvious hesitation from Choso and maneuvers herself off of him and stands. “I will not turn either of you right now for our efforts should be placed into retrieving my beloved.”. Gojo warps behind her and spins her around and she feels his arms embrace her. With confusion she asks, “Do you not fear me, Sati?”.

Satoru chuckles into her hair, “Oh I fear you…I just love you as well.”, and is surprised when this dark Elska relaxes into him. ‘She loves monsters because she is one too…’. He knows this thought would likely terrify anyone else but he feels a new bond has been created between them in this moment and reminds her, “I know you feared me but you also never let me go.”. He inhales her scent begins to sway them, “You’re my love.”. He wonders as well who she meant that random statement to but doesn’t feel the need to press her for more information as he’s still working through what was just laid out.

Being so close to Satoru, feeling his body heat and breath brings Elska back to her arousal she’s been fighting for the sake of communication. She bites his chest through his shirt and rakes her nails down his back as he whimpers. She can taste his own excitement and decides that enough was said.

Gojo feels himself being pushed onto the bed and watches Choso jump up to standing. Elska straddles him and tears her slip open before glaring down and demanding, “Remove your shirt.”. He hastily does as he’s told while admiring how frightening her mannerisms are. When she leans down to kiss him, she lifts her weight from his lap and growls, “Your clothing is still in the way.”, to which he shimmies the waistband to his thighs, allowing his hardened flesh to make contact with her bare skin. He quickly finds Choso who is standing a few feet away with his jaw slacked open, “Cho-…”, she covers his lips and aligns herself with Satoru’s erection and says, “Do not concern yourself with him whilst I fuck you.”. He then feels her wet warmth slide down his shaft and groans loudly into her palm as she felt amazing. She pins his arms over his head against the mattress and proceeds to thrust herself into him passionately. When she gasps to using him, he feels a long-forgotten desire to tame her. Suddenly Gojo experiences his own switch as she continues to bounce herself on him. He breaks an arm free and sends his hand to her throat, squeezing it as he pulls her face down to his. When she bites her lip with arrogant eyes, he understands that she’s hoping he’ll fight back for dominance and whispers into her lips, “I will have you begging me to stop.”.

Elska grins to the confirmation but all of the sudden finds Satoru is no longer below her. “Try your best, you will not break me.”, she teases in her lowly voice as she recognizes his presence behind her. She hears Gojo say, “Choso, find me something to tie her up with.”. She looks to Choso who seems to not understand why so she smiles, “Do as he says.”. Satoru now wraps a hand around her throat again and pulls her back to where she’s on her knees and feels his erection rubbing against her. She tries to angle herself so she could feel him again but fails. She huffs disapprovingly but is soon met with his grith spreading her, leaving her crying out in lust. He leans down by her ear while he seats himself completely, “Love, is that what you wanted?”, and snickers as he rams her a few times.

Choso is finding the request made of him to be completely outlandish. ‘She shouldn’t be tied up!’, he now hears Satoru thrusting into her and feels uncomfortable with witnessing it in person. What he cannot ignore though is his own throbbing while he scurries to find anything that can be used for restraints. While searching through the drawers he comes across a scarf and quickly throws it over to Gojo without looking at them. His eyes take to Naoya in the other bed and he frowns to the situation at hand but knows there’s nothing he can really do to stop Elska. It was clear to him that she initiated and wanted to further down this adventure with Satoru. He looks over to them finally and looses his breath as he’s met with her alluring eyes. ‘Does she want me to stay?’, he questions internally hoping he was wrong. “Elska?”, he asks in a small voice, becoming mesmerized with how she’s staring into him.

Gojo pushes Elska down into the bed and brings her arms to fold neatly behind her back. “Like old times…”, he teases wantonly as he secures the scarf around her forearms and wrists. He nudges her body forward so he can sit on his knees behind her and admires her body as he postures himself over her legs. With his left hand he grabs himself up to rub into her folds, moaning to the visible evidence that he’s going to be able to go wild. He notices Choso run out of the room and chuckles while gliding into her fully, “I guess he didn’t want to watch. Smart move.”, and begins pound into her relentlessly as she moans into the sheets. He grabs her throat again with his right hand to pull her back towards him and says, “That’s right love, you will take this dick and you will fucking like it.”, and slaps her ass with his left. “I am going to conquer you all over again…”, he hisses as he pulls on her waist to make sure there’s not a single inch of him missing out. She cries out, “YES!”, which causes him to tighten his grasp on her throat from the rush it sent through him while he delivers deep thrusts. He whimpers to how she feels contracting around him and takes notice to her body’s response as he continues through her orgasm. “Already, huh?”, the accomplishment fills him with pride and he expresses it by still crashing into her as she falls apart. After a harsh few minutes, he slows down in an attempt to caress her internally. “Mmmm…”, he hums to how slippery her walls have become as she pants in front of him. “Perhaps my love wants to be controlled?”, he slaps her rear again with his left hand before regaining his grip on her hip. She lowly gasps, “Please try!”, which makes him say, “I am going to destroy you…”. He decides to warp in front of her and watches her body fall into the mattress. He grabs her hair and assists her in lifting her head while tilting his chin to the side and mocking, “The scary little Elska…”, she opens her mouth so he sends himself down her throat, “…gagging on my dick.”. He works his hips into her as expected tears roll down her face. When he removes himself to allow her air, he sighs to her saliva coating her breasts, causing them to glisten every so often. To his surprise she seductively moans and challenges, “Is that all you’ve got?”, which causes him to grunt as he traces her lips with his tip. He replies, “You should know me better than that.”, and proceeds to thrust into her mouth again. When she chokes on him, he throws his head back and furrows his brow while gasping, “My sexy little Elska…”.

Feeling his grip in her hair as he harshly stretches her throat fills her with exhilaration. There are reasons as to why he is so special to her and this depravity he harbors is one of them since it mirrors a part of her nature. She looks up to him the best she can as her muscles convulse to his motions and loves the dominating way in which he treats her. ‘Nobody has ever been so brave.’, she thinks as she gags. He removes himself from her mouth again but drags his member along her face which makes her whimper with anticipation. He says, “I can’t finish until I’ve opened everything.”, and she shivers to his voice as it was chilling, knowing he’s going to take her in every way he can. He warps behind her again but is maneuvering her to lay on her left side. She tries to adjust in a way that makes her arms more comfortable but he slaps her thigh and says, “Don’t squirm now love, it’s too late for that.”.

Satoru bends her legs up towards her chest so he could have unobstructed access. Spreading his kneeing stance, he leans over her to grab her throat again while he begins to nudge her second entrance. “You are mine to fuck and so is this ass.”, and groans down to her as he feels himself slowly making progress. He loves how her face morphs into pleasure the deeper he goes and wonders, ‘Has she liked this all along?’, but is soon taken out of thought as she gasps to being further parted. He releases her throat to lean back and stabilize himself with her hip, wanting to watch himself submerge into her. “Look at you love, taking me so well…”, she cries out heatedly and he bites his lip as he backs out to start the process over. He drops some of his own saliva down where they meet and works himself in deeper, becoming completely swallowed by her. “Such a good girl…”, he breathlessly whines as their eyes meet. “…Take it all…”, and begins to set a rhythm. As he increases his force she cries out “YES SATI”, and smiles with parted lips as she’s forced to endure him. He’s watching her skin ripple and wave out from his impact and it nearly makes him come undone having the knowledge that she’s enjoying this. He pulls out of her to take in the sight of her mess and rolls her onto her stomach. After making his way back in, he leans his body to hover over hers while he continues to pound through her.

Elska is completely under his control but is rather thrilled by how rough he is being. Through her moans she tries to tell him that it’s coming but before she can, the pheromones release into the room. She turns her head and sees Satoru’s face next to hers as he fills his lungs and moans, his motions halting while he does. She hears him say, “You must love it when I fuck you like this…”, and picks up his pace again. While gasping she’s able to say, “I want more!”, and her eyes roll back when gives her exactly that. She can tell by his breathing that he’s nearing his end so she arches her back underneath him as if to present she was ready to be a pretty display. His thrusts after that became full and deep with each stroke until she feels him twitch and begin to settle. He opens her legs to guide her onto her back while remaining inside of her. The look on his face is breathtaking and she can sense his relief as he slowly nudges through her a few more times.

While holding her ankles and leaning his hips into her, he brings his gaze from her face to where they’re connected and grunts to how pleasing the sight is. He leans down to kiss her feverishly as he comes to terms with his affections for Elska as a whole and says, “I love all sides of you…”, into her lips. He leans back up so he can watch his contents spill from her after he pulls out and moans when it’s even more beautiful than he imagined. Rolling her back onto her stomach he reaches down to undo her binds and finds their lips meeting as soon as she was free.

She slides her tongue into his mouth passionately and they moan into each other again. When she breaks away she says in her lowly voice, “I don’t have much time left like this but one day I will be whole. Let’s see if you can overpower me then.”, and brushes her thumbs across his cheeks. “I will be a blend of all attributes but I can promise I’ll want more of this.”. Her eyes feel heavy now as she feels her state diminishing, “I will have to sleep again but I will return to normal when I wake. Will you…”, she hesitates, “…will you bring me to sleep next to Naoya?”. She’s taken back by his kind smile as he lifts her up into his arms. They sway as he uses his knees to bring them to the edge of the bed and they nearly fall over as he works to swing his legs out to the floor.

They laugh together as he awkwardly finds his balance but he feels her sincerity as he walks them over to Naoya. “You can rest easy love and I’ll clean you up…”, he tells her as he lowers her down next to the sleeping Zenin. Her eyes are quickly losing their glow as she lays there and wraps her arms around Naoya’s left one, so he knows she’s going to be out here soon. “Love?”, she brings her hazy gaze to him, “We will find Toji, I swear it’s my priority.”. She smiles and thanks him before saying, “I’m glad to know he’s important to you as well Sati. Please, locate my beloved…he needs me…”. While he was forming his next words she closes her eyes and falls asleep instantaneously. “Love, I will make this world work for you…”, and leans down to kiss her once more. He stands upright again to find something to wash their wonderful experience with. After wiping her down he crawls in the bed and uses the slightest bit of space given to make his own spot, wanting to be next to her. He ponders on what she said earlier about the curse’s will to replace humanity and smiles into her neck, “I don’t much care for humans either…whatever your endgame is, we will succeed.”.

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bearseungmin · 4 years

Text

flick of your tongue (M)

— a shift of your mind and a connection to his dream, now neither of you can look each other in the eyes due to the sexual experience you both received.

pairing: jeongin x gender-neutral! reader genre: smut, friends with benefits! au word count: 2k [warnings]: biting/marking, grinding, oral (giving), manipulating a dream, reality shifting, wet dreams a/n: to all the stays that see jeongin as a pure angel, my bad. do not interact with this if you are under 18.

A man of all sorts, the one who lugged two large bags of groceries up three flights of steps to your apartment, the one who pulled you into his chest when you endured the saddest moment of your life, and even the one who had carelessly nibbled a hickey into the skin of your throat the evening before — Jeongin, your long running best friend was on your mind. Muscles coated in relaxation with your back melting into your mattress after a long day of sloven emotions and an odd encounter, he was the only thing still haunting your thoughts.

He had created the mark so naturally. The hold around your entire frame as you sat between his bent knees during a study session deeming a situation more visceral than what was common to the naked eye, but you always sat like this. His chin prodding your shoulder to peer at the pages past your frame, the vibrations of his laughter against you so sentimental. You had never felt his face turn into your neck so swiftly, much less his lips make contact with the skin. The movement so sinful yet nurturing, you felt the swift kiss of his mouth without a single thought. A jolt of him into you made you believe he was only shifting, but the growing figure in his pants revealed that the posture wasn’t so ordinary.

It was only from his breathing that you realized the situation. A hiccup in his chest, and a broad stretch of his shoulders to inhale your scent. Sharp teeth at your neck quickly became the last of your problems when you felt his length protrude perfectly against your ass, a bitter taste in your mouth while his teeth sunk into the warm cells. He hummed so perfectly, lips enwrapping the spot to give light sucks. His tongue hardly discovered the true taste of your skin before he was leering back and shifting you off him. The abrupt lift from the flooring only gave you a second to catch how red his face had gone, long fingers scurrying to collect his books and notes before he tossed out a soft excuse and made an escape.

A breath from your nose made you realize just how much the scene affected you. Although you didn’t recognize it until the last moment, the pleasure you had from his lips against your neck was beyond your own head. A shudder overtook your limbs just from the mere thought of the sensation once more. He was usually physical, but nothing had ever crossed any imaginative boundaries between friends like this, and that almost worried you.

His silked lips rummaging your skin was a blissful thought, your eyes shutting with the vague image of him in your mind. Soft hair fluffed from pushing his skull into your shoulder all day, shirt wrinkled from his tight hugs he never released you from until you were losing breath, the warmth of his skin overlapping your own as he pressed you down onto the mattress.

Perception not quite clouded, completely awakened, your relaxed state and foraging mind took the route not often chosen. A shift, you found your muscles twitching, breathing well sounding, and head aching as the sensation imbricated your surroundings. An inconvenience to a convenient moment in time, your perception was hollowed with nothing but the light moans of someone familiar above you.

Jeongin’s warm lips peppered your cheeks, his form fit directly between your legs with a smile breaking his kisses every few seconds. His eyes were darkened, features softer than you normally saw, but it was him — essentially in the flesh.

“Why are you so nervous around me?” The question slipped, the same one that had bounced around in your mind all night being thrown in his direction.

His eyes found your gaze, pupils growing skinny from the pending inquiry — he looked thrown off guard. “N-Nervous? I’m not nervous. We’re just having fun-”

“You gave me a hickey and ran. Do you consider that fun?” Unintentionally coming off as forceful, your hands ran along his neck in the exact place he gave you a mark. The pad of your digit was so soft compared to his roughened skin from the suffering chills, he looked intangible — like you could see right through him.

Somehow, you came across as more aware, your mind questioning everything whilst he was almost translucent. The man you came to know existed hardly as a figure here, and for that you knew things needed a wary take. Mind more frugal than his own at this point, you knew this was your imagination, a vivid one— but there; only Jeongin was having a completely different experience.

Your fingers raking through his hair all but steadied him, his forearms turning weak from the motions and physical contact. You felt him throb through his thin shorts, hips quivering in search of your form once more to rut into. It was instinctive, the way you tapped at his cheek to catch his attention — but even with your hands on the wheels, he was the engine.

“Let me kiss you.” A bark from the man so sturn caused your insides to churn and flutter. He insisted, and you were nowhere near formidable to decline him. His face hardly turned to match your lips, aligned mouths crashing together in a feverish way that had you wishing that you had taken a deep breath prior to them connecting. Jeongin’s intuition was nimble to notice the air filling your cheeks, releasing you to let you gasp in a breath with a smile taking over his - now extra - plumped lips. “Del-Delicately, sorry. Softly.”

He had caught himself hardly able to control your reactions — let alone his own, leaving a blush to creep into the apples of his cheeks once more. It was an interesting sight watching him grow flustered, Jeongin being one to stand on his own two feet and pull you into him whenever he felt like it — yet here he stayed more gracial, even with the little seconds of motion.

A hunch of his back brought his lips to your own a second time, but this interrelation was no more than the poke of his mouth into the corner of yours. A broken kiss, the way you perked yours to meet his for it to be missed, he smiled cheekily. Brow rising with a curve, your hand pressed at his side with the divots of his abdomen being caressed by the bottom line of your palm. He released a practical sigh at the feeling of his back leaning and now sinking into your soft mattress, the light in his eyes growing as he peered up at you through his lashes.

It was such a lucid exchange, the stance of you below him quickly turning into you straddling his waist. A rough push against his leaking length in his shorts now growing stern, his lips parted; your turn to press a kiss to the corner of his mouth giving way. He was in a daze, skin heated from the place you laid for so long without him, forehead glazed with the thinnest coat of sweat, tongue panting between his thick lips.

Such a semblance, your best friend panting out your name as you traced down his chest to his stomach. Thighs on either side of his hips, you glided across his cock so harshly that he released a gutteral whine. You found a secure spot on his thighs to sit and bend forward, knees digging into the mattress at the same time your fingers breached the waistband of his shorts. His eyes flickered watching you discard the simple item off his body and away, tongue clicking when your palm caressed his pulsing member.

A whine of pain, “Please!” Your moments of teasing - of wonder, of pure wanting - were over the second your eyes found his leaking tip piercing past the fabric. Precum covering his cock, you heard the oxygen within his body escape in the juncture of you moving forward, tongue pressing against his head. His thighs shaking before you even made contact with him, Jeongin’s eyes clenched shut and muscles went stern. Your light rubbing up and down his stomach told him to relax, but he was far from it.

A fading sensation, his cock inserting down your throat was the signature for his body to feel it - to really get into the moment - but his pull back down into the mattress made him become absent from you. It riddled you curious. His panting and words mumbled so loud in your ears, you struggled to hear him. Watching his skin run pale and nearly translucent for a second, he took his length into his own hand.

A pump for good measure, his sensitivity to you drew you forward again. A kitten lick to his tip in the same motion of his hand running from the base of his cock upwards — he was clearly holding himself back from lacing his fingers into your hair and using you the way you had once imagined.

Clever with all signs, your mind found the idea simultaneously with him peering down at you to check if you were alright, the sight pornographic as he reared back. Your tongue slithered past your lips, running from the base to his tip, along his own fingers still holding himself — and all he could do was hiss. Head tossed back in ecstasy, he hadn’t quite hit it yet.

Smiling to yourself, you lifted his hand from the clenched position beside his body, straightening out one finger at a time with your own before pushing his palm into the crown of your head. He growled, brows furrowed with an almost ‘no’, but as your fingers pressed into his to let his grip hold you, he found the dominance deep down in his gut and pushed you down lower on his length.

The taste of his precum thinning on your tastebuds, he rocked into your mouth at a gentle pace. Even with the grip on your hair, your head still bobbed in your own motions — the only one of the two of you who can keep control in this state of mind.

He was too far gone, jawline carved with a push back into the pillow cradling his head, a moan of your name, and the break of his orgasm from deep within him. A sudden rush of his liquids passing your tongue and dripping straight towards the back of your throat made you moan. Your lips hollowed around him with half of his length still in your mouth, one harsh swallow making him thrash and pull himself out of your wet cavern. A crooked smile on your lips, it was you that had to lift from him, his tugs doing no damage in the different states of existence.

It was there that you realized just what had happened. His pink cheeks tinted by your physical state connecting with him in ways he believed he could only dream, your mind had sent you into his own fantasy. The courageous look on his face when his eyes finally flapped open. You found the willpower to leave him be, his expression turning confused as you left him alone on the mattress inside his invisible world.

Your wonders had become lubrication to his wet dream, Jeongin’s eyes calming from their once dilated state to peer around him. Lost, almost pained by your sudden disappearance, the same wash of realization only captured him for a split second before you were both leapt from the dreamy states and back into reality.

A break from the delusion, your form raced to sit up from your mattress. Skin covered in more sweat than Jeongin’s had been, your feet found the floor, body swaying back onto the bed before you could even stand. It was all in your head — and his own.

Your phone’s screen lit up within the darkened room, gulping slowly at just what would be on the device when you finally looked. It was none other than Jeongin, himself, with a text, “Are you awake?”

He was going to come clean about his experience to you — but you were already set on exposing the fact that you had been right there with him throughout the entire thing.

#stray kids smut #skz smut #yang jeongin smut #jeongin smut #skz jeongin smut #skz scenarios #skz imagines #stray kids scenarios #stray kids imagines #skz x reader #jeongin x reader #drabble: flick of your tongue #mature #tw manipulation #tw reality shifting #triggers #bearseungmin.favorites #bearseungmin.drabbles

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thetaoofzoe · 4 years

Text

FIC: Syverson the Protector Pt 4

* Syverson The Protector - Part I (pairing Syverson x YOU)

* Syverson the Protector - Part II (pairing Syverson x YOU)

* Syverson the Protector - Part III (pairing Syverson x YOU)

Summary: You are an embedded journalist and on a mission, everything goes wrong. The two of you have made it to safety and now it’s time for the healing to begin.

Rating for this part: Budding romance, Fluff, medical related content, I’ve picked ‘Henry’ as Syverson’s first name and he’s grown his hair out :D

Must be read in order, no part can stand alone. I expect to have at most, two more parts, 5 and concluding in 6.

Word count: 2293

Want to read more? Click for my Masterlist

Lying flat on his back, Syverson stared morosely at the ceiling and listened to the gentle thwapping sounds of the bedside machine that was currently and eagerly siphoning fluids out of his intestines. He let his mind tick over what the machine was actually doing to him and blearily considered why he wasn’t in constant pain from the electronic manipulation of his own vulnerable flesh.

Surely those plastic tubes driven into his guts should hurt, right?

Sure, you’re right, his mind chattered, a little giddy to be imparting an unknown bit of information, but consider this: morphine – a wounded man’s best friend.

My best friend, he thought and then as if the devil knew it was being called, another machine beeped and a flood of soft luscious haziness rushed into his bloodstream and he immediately relaxed. This tired mind drifted and it didn’t take long for him to slip back into sleep.

Hours later, Syverson startled out of a clinging and sticky dream with a desperate gasp. He felt hot all over, stiff and aching and the very thought of trying to move elicited a terrible pain response. Hot, oily bile crept up in his throat and his mouth watered in that awful familiar process of preparing him to violently empty his stomach.

I have to sit up, his brain screamed. I have to sit up. I don’t want to puke still lying on my back!

A broad cool hand pressed down on his chest and another closed about his shoulder. Someone was speaking but he couldn’t make out the words through the heavy veiling fog that enveloped him. He tried to speak to the person, and tried to tell them that he was going to be sick.

‘It’s ok, Henry,’ a voice was telling him. ‘You’re ok. I’ll help you roll onto your side if you need to vomit.’

Swallowing jerkily, throat working hard to force the urge back down, Syverson clamped his teeth and shook his head.

‘All right. How about we move you a bit. Are you ok with that?’

Move? God no. I can’t bear that. Moving meant pain.

He shook his head again, but the warm voice came back to him, sounding much more insistent this time.

‘I can help you, Henry, or I’ll put the positioner in bed with you and it will make you move. We want to prevent pressure sores, remember?’

Syverson took in a breath and after a moment nodded to show that he understood. When the man leaned in close, Syverson could smell his cologne. It was a pleasant and fresh woodsy scent that reminded him of his cabin back home. A sudden homesick ache tightened his chest and tears wet his dry eyes. He didn’t like feeling that way, but everything seemed to be out of his control now. He hated it.

Nevertheless, he put his arms around the man’s shoulders and gritted his teeth when his body was repositioned and stretched out again on the stiff mattress.

He gasped and couldn’t believe how out of breath such a small exertion had left him. But, he noted, he did feel better and the nausea had subsided.

The urge to eat suddenly struck him and he blinked up at the nurse.

‘What time is it?’ he rasped, voice rusty from disuse.

‘You hungry?’ asked the nurse with a grin.

‘Yeah, I could eat,’ he answered, wriggling a little to get more comfortable in the pillows under his head.

‘I can get you something, but it’s after breakfast and not quite lunch.’

Syverson nodded. He didn’t care. He just wanted to eat.

‘Fries and a coke, then,’ he said closing his eyes and grinning a little.

The nurse laughed and gently patted his shoulder condescendingly. With the state of Syverson’s gut, there was no way he was going to survive ingesting any amount of carbonation. That little fact didn’t stop the cravings though.

‘I’ll see if there’s some soup still left. I think it’s chicken.’

When he was alone again, the memories came back. After the jeep explosion, he was sure that he was going to die out in that sandy wasteland. Had it not been for you, he was sure that he would have died. Had it not been for the beautiful, plucky reporter, some stony faced military man would be paying his parents a visit to inform them of their youngest son’s passing and that his body would be flown home for burial.

Instead, he had been saved. And when he found that you’d been housed in the civilian wing of the hospital, he wanted to see you. He wanted to thank you for saving his life. When visiting you was denied, considering the fragile state of the both of you, Syverson had instructed that the well stocked gift shop be bought out and carted to your room, all with his heartfelt thanks.

He owed you his life. A few flowers and a couple of teddy bears was the least he could do.

The plastic and faux wood table rattled next to him and snapped Syverson out of his muse. He opened his eyes and watched as the nurse positioned the table over his bed and put down a ceramic bowl of steaming soup. He groaned and strained a little to help himself up into a sitting position.

The nurse was distracted and looking down into his other hand.

‘I ran into your girlfriend’s nurse in the hallway and she gave me this to give to you.’

God, he sounded so smug and Syverson wanted to punch him square in the face.

Girlfriend?

His brain searched for a face to put to the name but came up empty. He’d broken up with his ex more than five years ago, right before his latest deployment. And then it clicked.

The reporter. You.

The nurse handed the card to Syverson and upon seeing it, his heart sank. It was the same envelope that he’d sent along with the gifts. Had you refused his outpouring of affection? He slowly opened the envelope and breathed out with relief when he saw the new message that had been written for him.

He didn’t want to smile at the note in front of the gossipy nurse, as he didn’t want to encourage any nonsense rumours, so he kept his elated reaction to himself. But inside his heart soared and the soup tasted better than anything he’d ever eaten before.

The day that you both championed and dreaded finally arrived. The day you could get out of bed on your own and walk down to the men’s wing to pay your captain a visit. He had come a long way, you’d heard from the nurse, but would still have trouble doing any taxing travelling. However you were well enough to make the trip.

‘That is, if you still want to,’ said your nurse with a glint in her eye.

Oh, she thinks she’s funny, does she?

You sighed luxuriously and stretched back on your pillows. You’d managed to wrangle an extra set so that you could prop yourself up like a royal lady taking in visitors for the afternoon. You ran the edge of your thumbnail across the thick scar skirting the side of your left palm, scratching it lightly but thoroughly. You had recently had your bandages removed and the sight of your hands was shocking. The backs of your hands had taken the brunt of the burns and they were wrinkled with scar tissue which butted up against new skin growth. A daily cream was a must to keep the tissue from tightening up and preventing normal usage of your hand. You scooped up a handful of the waxy smelling stuff and massaged it into your hands as your nurse watched you expectantly.

Her expression fell a bit when you didn’t answer right away.

Serves her right, you thought, casually kneading fingertips into the palm of your opposite hand.

‘I mean, you don’t have to, if you’ve changed your mind.’

She picked at a bright yellow rose bud that had fallen off of one of the new crops of flower bouquets. Henry had made sure to keep you flush with fresh beautiful flowers. You had to draw the line at the character balloons, and had to tell him that he should stop sending them because the hollow sounds of them knocking together at night was creepy and it kept you awake.

‘I haven’t changed my mind, Barb,’ you said and gave her a smile.

I feel like I’ve been waiting my whole life to see him again.

‘Well, good. He’s been asking after you… like… constantly now.’

You said nothing, but a tiny grin stretched your lips.

Constantly?

‘We can whip out the chair and wheel you over there after lunch.’

Your heart leaped with sudden and visceral terror.

It’s soon. So soon. Too soon! Today?

You swallowed hard and felt your face heat with uncertain embarrassment.

‘S-sure.’

‘Ok, I’ll reserve one and be back in a few hours.’

Barb turned around and left the room. You could hear her chuckling as if this matchmaking was the best thing that had happened to her all year.

You sat up in bed, greasy hands limp in your lap and you made a face when you sniffed at yourself under your hospital gown. No way were you going to present yourself to Henry, or anyone else who would be in the day room, looking like you’d been in an accident.

Heaven forfend.

So, you washed carefully and put on the pale peach coloured long-sleeved pyjama set you’d received from the Ladies’ Supply. The Ladies’ Supply was an organisation of volunteer women who ensured the dignity and comfort of women at the military hospital through social visits, clothing donations and other feminine needs.

You did your hair the best you could and whiled away the hours until you heard the squeaky wheelchair being rolled into your room. With heart crashing excitedly against your ribs, you perched delicately on it and Barb rolled you away.

The day room was spacious and welcoming and abuzz with activity. Some of the men were still hooked to IVs and sitting by the wide windows and others who were more capable were dispersed amongst the tables either reading or playing cards or just talking with each other. There were also some women in there, so you didn’t feel like you were entering the lion’s den. You spotted Henry by one of the card tables and you wanted to put your feet down on the floor to stop Barb from rolling you right up to his side. Unfortunately, you didn’t do it in time and when you squeaked to an unceremonious halt at the edge of the table, he glanced up from his cards.

The look on his face when he recognised you was one that you would store in your memory for an eternity. He put the cards face down on the table and made to stand up. You immediately put up your hands to stop him.

‘No, no, don’t get up, you don’t–‘

But, he had already struggled to push himself up and out of the chair and you didn’t want to take that victory from him. You stood up as well, ready to give a firm friendly handshake, or a paltry pat on the shoulder but he had other intentions. He dragged you into his arms, and crushed you to his meaty chest, before you could manage to say, hello.

When he finally let you go, you both went back to your respective seats, feeling overwhelmed by the perfect greeting.

Grinning at him, you made a gesture to your own head.

‘Your hair… it’s all curly!’

The last time you’d seen him, his hair was shorn right to the head, and there was really no hint as to the texture or really even the true colour. So it surprised you to see a neatly clipped mop of glossy brown curls. Henry put a self conscious hand into his hair and ruffled his fingers through it.

‘I like it,’ you assured him, hoping to put him at ease. ‘I like it a lot.’

Grabby hair, your brain chittered. Perfect length for grabbing.

With that the two men who had been playing cards with him at the table, picked up and left, taking the not so subtle hint that they should leave the two of you alone.

‘I’m glad to see you. Finally,’ he said, wincing a little when he shifted in the chair.

‘Does it still hurt?’ you asked, reaching out to put your hands over his on the table.

‘I’m getting over it,’ he said, dodging the question effortlessly.

He turned his hands up to hold onto yours and you felt as shy as a virgin on a first date. So, what could you do but make a joke the break the tension.

‘I mean… if I had to get blown up to get a date with you in a hospital day room, don’t know if I would do it again. Ehh, I probably would.’

Your eyes swept up to his and he stared at you a moment, puzzled and when you gave him a little hesitant smile, Henry started to laugh. The sound it lit you up with happiness and then the awkwardness was broken.

You spent about an hour chatting and if you were honest, most of it was spent flirting, until you started to feel tired.

You didn’t want to overstay your welcome and he seemed disappointed (much to your juvenile delight) when you said that you were leaving.

‘Tomorrow then?’ he asked, big blue eyes bright and eager, his hands unwilling to let you go again.

‘Yes, tomorrow.’

-End part 4

#henry cavill #captain syversion #syverson x you #henry cavill x you #captain syverson x you #syverson the protector #reader insert

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beatricethecat2 · 3 years

Photo

“I’m super bummed about the yurt,” Myka says.

“It is rather unfortunate," Helena says. "Perhaps internet rentals are unreliable?”

“That’s how everything’s done these days. And it’s not their fault, the pump died, and no water means it’s a no-go. But I still want that river view.”

“And the solitude. Plus the solar-powered generator.”

“You were super into that,” Myka says. “But this place…” She pushes at the cards scattered in front of her. “They just left stuff lying around. Such a dump.”

“It was rather last minute. Merely a stop-gap; a place to rest our weary heads after nights under the stars.”

“And backs on the hard ground,” Myka grumbles. “Where’d you find this?” She twirls a yellow flower between her thumb and forefinger.

“In the garden behind the shed. Though ‘garden’ and 'shed’ are generous terms.”

“Thanks for picking it. And thanks for being so upbeat about this,” Myka says, cracking a small smile.

“Thank you for humoring my curiosity.” Helena gathers the cards within her reach and piles them into a neat stack.

“It’s given us a destination, which we needed.” Myka pushes more cards towards Helena. “You’re sure none of the sites we saw are what you remember?”

“From the stereographs? No.” Helena fans the cards out and begins to arrange them in suits.

“Could you…could it be you don’t remember it as well as you thought?

"Stereographs were the virtual reality of my day. They immersed one in places inherently foreign to our own. The take-away memories were vivid. I was hoping…”

“Hoping what?” Myka says, scooting closer, joining in organizing the cards.

“That the physicality of the ruins would trigger an emotional response. I viewed the images at one of Charles’s parties not long before I was bronzed. My reaction was quite visceral; I’d felt life flowing through the structures, even though they were long abandoned.”

Helena stares at the card in her hand.

“Then again, I wasn’t exactly in my right mind. Perhaps it’s a ridiculous quest.” She lays the card, a joker, on the table.

“Hey, we’ll keep looking,” Myka says, laying her hand over Helena’s. “We’ll regroup in Vegas, then go north and hit Mesa Verde. It’s pretty magical.”

“You’ve been before?”

“Girl Scout trip. Long, miserable bus ride. But even as a kid, the cliff dwellings felt magical.”

“Perhaps they’re the site I’m looking for!” Helena says, perking up. “And, perhaps we met there in the past. Star-crossed lovers, throughout time and space.”

“Past lives? You believe in that?”

“Not in a grand sense,” Helena says, aligning the gazes of the queen of hearts and queen of spades to face each other. “But I do appreciate that these days, one can mention such trivial mythologies without repercussions.”

“What do you mean?”

“In my day, as a woman, there was little room for flippant musing. Christian values dictated our every move, while Spiritualism promoted the fanatic embrace of communing with the dead. Not to mention the base-level assumption women were of a lesser intellect.”

“So you’d never say it out loud.”

“Never. In fact, I’d blocked it out. Hard science was my escape but at the expense of my sanity.”

“I suppose we all need a sense that something out there's guiding us,” Myka says, plucking the two other queens from the spread and aligning them as Helena did. “It’s kind of romantic to think our connection’s lasted hundreds of years.”

“But you’re not sold.”

“Nah.” Myka slips the cards on top of each other and slides them back into the pile.

“Perhaps my bronzing was the universe’s way of aligning our presence.”

“Sounds like a story you might write. Or one you already did.”

“So pragmatic, Myka Bering.”

“You’re the romantic,” Myka says, bumping Helena’s shoulder.

“I’m a woman of science!” Helena quips playfully.

“Hm, yeah,” Myka mumbles, turning to look towards the other side of the trailer. “Come with me, 'woman of science.’ Let’s test out this awful looking bed.”

She grabs Helena’s hand and tugs her across the room. They tumble in tandem onto the full-size futon.

------------

Bering and Wells On the Road ("Warehouse 13" Season 5 replacement) Season 1: Episode 5 Title: Las Vegas: Hopes, Dreams, and a Little Bit of Crazy

Summary: Myka and Helena travel across the expanse of Texas toward the arid Southwest, tracking down a memory. A last-minute cancellation leads to less-than-ideal accommodations and musings on the universe. A stop in Vegas turns into an artifact hunt after a few nights on the town. While there, a less than supernatural mystery garners honest talk, revealing a sticking point that, for better or worse, is left hanging to be resolved down the line.

Previously: Episode 1, Episode 2, Episode 3, Episode 4

------------

***BONUS SCENE***

“What’s this?” Myka asks, holding a piece of paper found while tidying the room before checkout.

Helena turns from packing and squints at the page.

“It appears to be an advertisement for burlesque.”

“It’s a strip club.”

“There’s a distinction?”

“You’ve watched enough cop shows to know.”

“Touché,” Helena says with a smirk. “Were you considering attending?”

“It’s from your pocket! The stuff you took out to dry clean your coat after it got gooed.”

“I don’t recall saving that piece of ephemera.”

“Maybe you recall this?” Myka flips the paper over.

Helena steps closer and squints again.

“Do you need glasses?”

“I haven’t had proper tea yet,” Helena grumbles. “It appears to be writing.”

“It’s a name. And a number. Who's Giselle?”

“Ah…” A light bulb goes off behind Helena’s eyes. “The tall, blonde you were ogling at the bar.”

“Me? What blonde? Oh…” A dimmer bulb goes off behind Myka’s eyes. “I thought I recognized her from that show we saw, Zumanity.”

“And I’d thought she’d reminded you of a tall blonde from your past.”

“Sam was a man.”

“Gender is a construct–”

“I know! I don’t need another lecture–”

“–designed to control the masses, just like– ”

“Capitalism, religion, television….who knows what else,” Myka gruffs. “No more podcasts in the car for a while, OK?"

Helena crosses her arms over her chest and grunts dismissively. Myka's face pinches as she holds her ground.

"So you, what, went up to this woman when I took that call from the Warehouse?”

“As it happens, she spoke with me,” Helena says, puffing up like a bird on the defense.

“She came to our table?”

“I’d gone to the bar. I needed a top-up as you’d been gone for an immeasurable amount of time.”

“And she just happened to be there?”

“Coincidentally.”

“Coincidentally? And she 'coincidentally’ gave you her number?”

“We had a lovely conversation about the mechanics from the show. The hanging armatures, the chains, the silks, the water tank. And the athleticism that went into their provocative stunts.”

“Uh-huh. But she gave you her number. Why?”

“I believe there was a misunderstanding.”

“A misunderstanding?”

“Must you parrot me so?” Helena plants her hands on her hips.

“If you’d tell me what really happened, I wouldn’t have to.” Myka mirrors Helena’s pose.

“Fine. You seemed so enamored, I thought to ask questions–”

“I thought I recognized her, that’s all!”

“She was quite stunning. Did I mention statuesque?”

“Helena, why?” Myka waves the page in Helena’s direction.

“She offered us a backstage tour.”

“Us, or you?”

“I’d pointedly mentioned you, so us.”

“Oh.” Myka’s shoulders slump. “What does 'backstage tour’ mean?”

“I believe a peek behind the production.”

“Because you said there was a misunderstanding.”

“Due to her somewhat pointed overtures.”

“I knew it! She was hitting on you.” Myka smacks the desk with her hand.

Helena grimaces. “I believe she was 'fishing’”

“Do you even know what that is?”

“I do, as per the aforementioned police procedurals. In fact, it was….refreshing, being courted by a woman."

"I’m a woman!”

“Yes, but….in the wild, so to speak.”

“Did you…” Myka starts, then glances at the paper again. She sits on the edge of the bed and looks up at Helena. “Did you want to go out with her?"

"Again, I’d pointedly pointed out I was taken.”

“Then why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because we rushed off New York, New York the minute your call from the Warehouse finished.” Helena throws her hands in the air. “We then spent the majority of yesterday chasing an elusive King Kong around that scale model of the city.”

“We did. Stupid antiques convention.”

“I swear we spend more time on Warehouse business than our own.”

“Like once a month.”

“Every week.”

“Every other week. When they call us. Us getting whammied doesn’t count.”

“Mine was New Orleans. Yours Austin. But the others…”

Myka tallies missions on fingers until she hits ten. “You’re right. We’ve spent a lot of time on Warehouse stuff. I’m sorry.”

Helena shakes her head while breathing out a heavy sigh. She sits next to Myka and lays a hand on her thigh. “To answer your question, we’re off today anyway, so there was no point in mentioning it.”

Myka slips her hand over Helena’s. “I bet you actually wanted to see the mechanics backstage. That’s something people do on vacation.”

“Quite an improvement from Trouble Wit,” Helena says.

“I don’t know that that is.”

“Illusions with pleated paper. Parlor tricks, but they delighted Christina so.”

“See, I like hearing that stuff,” Myka says, squeezing Helena’s hand. “Would you have told me any of this if I hadn’t found the flyer cleaning up?’ She hands the paper to Helena.

"Why would it matter?” Helena crumples the paper and lobs it towards the garbage can. It bounces off and onto the floor.

“Because for this to work we need to talk to each other, tell each other how we feel.” Myka looks Helena in the eye. “I can’t read your mind.”

“Then, perhaps we were not destined to meet throughout time and space.”

“Hey, you can’t take it back. I like that idea now.” Myka threads her fingers through Helena's and flips their hands over. “You’re really annoyed about the work stuff?”

“I was hoping to have you all to myself.”

“You do.” Myka squeezes Helena’s hand again and lifts it up, kissing its back. “How much time do we have before checkout?”

Helena glances at her wristwatch. “Not nearly enough.”

“But it could be.” Myka threads a lock of hair behind Helena’s ear and guides their lips together. Their kiss leads to more-than-kissing in record time.

Next Scene: Running late to checkout…

-TBC-

NOTES: The quote, “Las Vegas is a city built on hopes, dreams and a little bit of crazy,” is by Eleanor Goggin. If you haven’t seen a well-shot stereograph in a viewer, you are missing out. Their mock-3D spaces from bygone eras can be mind-blowing.Myka with the flyer is from a season four episode where she and Pete go to Las Vegas. The show Zumanity is a racy offshoot of Cirque du Soleil and just closed after a seventeen-year run in Vegas. I started reading a fascinating dissertation about why middle- and upper-class Victorian women embraced Spiritualism. In a nutshell, it gave them autonomy and a sense of power within the rigid confines of what was expected of them as women while they remained safe within the construct of home. H.G. would have bristled at that, because she wanted more. But I’m certain she would have been fascinated by Hilma af Klint’s amazing drawings and paintings, even though they were based in Spiritualism and Theosophy. Oh and here's on of the stereographs. (H.G. would have seen it later than 1898.) Also, the title font/design is from the first edition of the book you are thinking of but the content is not related.

#BERING AND WELLS #w13 #fan fiction #fan art #canon divergent au #Myka Bering #Helena HG Wells #sorry for the delay #i was plotting out the arc of their journey #and rearranging eps #i have the images all lined up but now have to concoct some stories...#Oh the tasks I set for myself

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heroprose · 3 years

Text

aromatic;

a/n. forewarning for the usual vampiric shenanigans.

ship. hitoshi shinou x reader

summary. contemporary vampire au. (+ slight office au)

hitoshi shinsou despises you, you’re certain of this.

what you’re not quite sure of is where all the animosity stemmed from, especially since he seemed to conduct himself well enough with everyone else.

out of all your fellow colleagues, he treated you with the most transparent curtness, from promptly exiting whenever you entered the breakroom for a refreshment, to visibly retching the one time you tried to take an empty seat next to him during a conference (you’ll never forgive him for that slight).

it was really starting to grate on you. you were going to have to confront him about this yourself.

besides, you’ve no longer a choice in the matter: this unspoken tension had begun to affect the workplace, with people sometimes looking to and fro between you and him, confused to high hell why he always kept himself a good several meters away from you if he could-- not that you were complaining. social distancing can be quite mutually beneficial, after all.

and it wasn’t an issue you’d like to bring up with human resources either: that seemed a little too petty, even if he was literally gagging at your presence.

you did try to ameliorate the work relationship-- really, you did. but there’s only so many times you can crack a joke and be left hanging in that awkward silence before you stop altogether. you once thought it’d been something you said in poor taste that made him abhor you so, but unless he had a seething hatred for mild puns, that didn’t seem right.

and so what that you were a newer addition to the team-- you’d entertained the idea that maybe he had a thing against strangers, but hell, it’s been months and even interns get more conversation out of him than you.

although given his visceral reactions, you’re inclined to think it’s something about how you smell... but that’s just insane. you took your daily showers and used reasonable amounts of detergent in your laundry; and if you can take the pungency of axe body spray and the zestiness of dior’s sauvage on every man in the building, then he should be able to tolerate your own signature scent, which wasn’t even that bad... was it?

no one else complained about it though. and you’ve even asked around too, so you know you’re not wearing absolute funk. it’s an unfathomable situation.

today, however, you forewent the perfume. if it really was the fragrance, then this should leave no opening. you’ve tucked the bottle in your workbag instead, in case you needed it like a piece of evidence for his rude behavior, ace attorney style.

you waited until lunch break, where most of the other colleagues would leave the building for nearby restaurants or go to the cafeteria, before approaching him. it was best this way, lest it got weird; at least only few people would witness it.

hitoshi was currently invested in whatever it was on his computer, and if you were correct in his observations, he would pull out his own homemade meal shortly enough to eat at his desk. some days, he didn’t eat at all, which was surely unhealthy but you were hardly in the position to scold him considering your own bad habits. plus you didn’t want him to hate you even deeper.

you got to observe this routine over a good number of weeks and it was truly no easy feat, with his desk set in the far corner of the workplace far from the wall-length windows and him being constantly out and about on his own assignments.

with your workbag in one hand, you walk up to him with as much nonchalance as you could muster. “hey! not going down to the cafe today?” it’s rhetorical: you knew he wasn’t.

he hardly responds, eyes flickering up at you briefly and giving a greeting nod before returning to his work. “mm.”

you round the corner of the desk so that you stand beside him. leaning down slightly to squint at the screen, you deliberately put yourself in his space. “oh wow, the deadline’s so far away but you’re already working on this part?”

he began to open his mouth, only to clap a hand over it with remarkable speed. and he coughs, goodness, with shoulders jumping.

“oh my god,” you can’t help but say as you withdraw. could he smell it even from your bag? you weren’t even sure if it was the perfume or just you anymore. “okay, i’ll cut to the chase. can we talk? alone?”

you’d think he would think it over, at the very least, to give a semblance of polite reflection. “no,” is his immediate reply, spoken forcefully, so forcefully that a lone passing colleague even gives you two a glance.

“i was, uh, just leaving,” they say. “want anything?”

“i’m good, thanks,” you reply, bidding them farewell with a breezy smile before refocusing on hitoshi. he has already turned away from you, eyes blazing at the computer screen.

without another word, you reach over, placing a hand over his, and drag his mouse to click out of his report.

“what do you think you’re doing?” hitoshi demands, jerking away from your touch. and he’s angry now, genuinely irritated: you can see it in the way his jaw tightens. too bad you’ve been annoyed ever since you’ve been moved to this department.

“it was google docs, relax. your work is saved,” you soothe over. “now come with me. i just want to talk to you for five minutes, tops. please.”

he’s deeply conflicted for a heartbeat, but finally relents. “five minutes,” he echoes. you give him the space to stand up, clutching your workbag strap tightly in your fist. if he knew what this was about, he gave no mention as he walked openhanded behind you.

hastily, you lead him to the breakroom. with its doorless entrance, you assumed that the ventilation there would be moderately good, if it got too stuffy for him. then again, you wouldn’t of minded if he suffocated a bit either. admittedly, the entire floor was probably empty save for you two, so this dialogue could’ve been held out in the open but it didn’t hurt to have that extra layer of seclusion.

“i already know,” you say into the quietude, leaning against the counter. behind you, the coffee machine beeped every so often. someone should get that fixed. you cross your arms and look at him carefully. the vents are tinny above you two, warm air rushing out noisily.

“you-- what?” his dark eyes widen ever so slightly, and for once, his expression isn’t quite so tense with you. “what do you know?” he must’ve not expected you to be so direct. he takes his hand out of his pocket.

“you know what i’m talking about. why you treat me like, i don’t know, the plague?”

“i don’t do that.”

“you nearly threw up when you saw me.”

hitoshi stays silent. ha, gotcha! “i only coughed,” he relents eventually.

“whatever. and i know it’s not me and that it’s really all you because guess what? no one else has this problem. and i’m thinking you don’t want me to air out your business to everyone else because that would be...” weird, for one, but you didn’t want to ruin your own case. “doesn’t matter; in any case, there’s no reason to be rude over this.”

“alright. so you know. i avoid you because of your scent.” his voice is dangerously calm. “what are you going to do about me, then?”

“about you?” you repeat with a scoff, “oh, so i should report you? what would i even say? HR would laugh at me.”

he smirks, chin jutting out. “right.”

“so now i only have one question. wait, make that two.”

“go on.”

“how should we fix this? because obviously i don’t want our little dance to start affecting our work ethic. you can’t wave me away forever. it’s how i smell, right? do you have a recommended detergent or deodorant, or something?” you ignore the fact that you’ve technically asked three questions.

“none of that covers it,” he mutters and your jaw drops. “masks don’t help either.”

“no way. i smell that b-- you know what... moving on. we’ve got to compromise somewhere though. but not my perfume.” your hands reflexively ball up. there’s no camera, so if you did something unsavory, there equally wouldn’t be any real witnesses...

“your perfume,” he repeats, seemingly dissatisfied.

“yeah, no way. that’s my signature scent. go wear nose plugs or something, if it’s that bad. and i can’t believe you say scent and not body odor, like just call it what it is! damn.”

the coffee machine lets out its intermittent beeps. hitoshi just stares at you, mystified. then, he breaks into a snort, like he’s the one who can’t believe he’s having this discussion. “i understand. in that case, i see no solution.” whilst bringing a hand to the back of his neck, he starts to move, intent on passing you to exit the room.

you let out a frustrated noise. “you leave me no choice, hitoshi.”

intending on presently the bottle to him proudly, perhaps even spritzing him once for good measure, you jam your hand into your workbag to fish your perfume out. you grab onto the rectangular shaped glass, and pull it out with great gusto.

and it goes terribly.

to your horror, the bottle slips like butter between your fingers and sails, tumbling down to the floor right in front of you with a heartrending crash, glass splintering like ice. the beautiful blue lid goes spinning across the tiles, and like that, the whole room now blooms a gorgeous citrus, white floral scent. “oh nooooooo! shit!”

no longer minding him, you go to pick up the shards, bending down at the knees with a sigh. gingerly, you begin to clean up.

“hey, be careful. i’ll get a dustpan,” you hear him say and it’s one of the nicest things he’s ever said to you, but in your melancholy, you shake your head solemnly.

“no, no, i’ve got this. i’m just so-- OWW?” you wail without warning. you drop the wet shard you were grasping, still slick with liquid. “ugh, never mind. get the dustpan.” you bring yourself up on your feet again.

using your shoe, you kick the shards into a more cohesive, but wet pile. the clattering of the glass causes you some emotional pain. “terrific,” you mutter, watching blood bead up at across two of your fingertips. “well, at least i won’t be wearing that anymore. right, hitoshi?” you ask sarcastically. shaking your hand to rid it of perfume residue, you end up just flecking your blood droplets all over the floor. you glance up when you’re met with silence. “hitoshi?”

“nnngh...” a low, deep groan escapes his throat, and immediately he turns his cheek and takes several stumbling steps away. he grits his teeth, the vein in his neck growing more prominent like it’s physically paining him to pull apart from you. “you’ve got to be fucking kidding me...”

“you okay?” you close in on him. it felt almost backwards to ask such a query, seeing as you were the one bleeding. “maybe you should sit d--”

“get away from me,” he all but spits out, eyes squeezed shut. “you set this up, huh? figures.” stray hairs were falling into his face as he presses a hand against his temple and bit back another groan. “i was doing just fine before... so why... nngh.”

you purse your lips. “hey! what do you have against dolce & gabbana’s light blue eau de toilette? it’s a perfectly respectable, fresh, work-friendly fragrance! it was, at least!” you wanted to shout. but that didn’t happen, as your concern and confusion won over your sense of petulance. “set what up?” you ask, bewildered.

on closer inspection, he was not, in fact, okay at all.

for a second, you thought he was having an allergic reaction. that would certainly explain his avoidance of your body, and perhaps why even a deep black had replaced the cool purple in his irises when his eyes snap open to glare. his pupils were blown out despite the bright tube lighting overhead, and his mouth parts wide.

yet an allergy did not explain everything. as opposed to weak, however, hitoshi suddenly looked frightening.

because, instead, what came out of your mouth was a strangled, “uh, what the-- are those fangs?”

and indeed they were, confirmed as they descended upon your skin before you could even blink. at the very least, he had the decency to pant out a small but distinctively unapologetic “sorry” before his lips pressed around your bleeding fingers, tongue hot against the stinging cuts.

you hope fervently your coworkers take their leisure at lunch.

#shinsou x reader #shinsou hitoshi x reader #hitoshi shinsou x reader #bnha imagines #bnha x reader #why do yall still follow me wtf anyway here u go #tbf maybe shinsou prefers chanel no 5 #i think i wanted this to be more twilight adjacent but i dont know what happened

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aliaslua · 3 years

Text

Right to live

Chapter 02 of my on going series: In broad daylight

Chapter summary: Michelangelo has a productive therapy session after his interview. April and Casey announce their wedding and in a jealousy crisis, Donatello has his first one-night-stand. Warning: This chapter contain light smut (mature, not explicit) if you're a minor please DON'T INTERACT. TW: Trauma mention (nothing too graphic or descriptive, but it does contain a short account of a panic attack).

Michelangelo started therapy after his first panic attack.

It was - maybe - the worst night of his life. At that point in time he didn’t even knew what a trigger was - and even if he did, he wouldn’t be able to identify or anticipate his reaction. If felt like he was dying in a literal, visceral sense. It was like having a bomb growing inside his shell, the beating counting down to a heart attack, he felt his lips cold, his head heavy and the touch of Donatello’s hand in his shoulders felt cold against his skin for the first time in his life. He could still remembers his brothers calling to him and his inhuman effort to look them in the eyes, just as he gazed into the house he grew up in and didn’t recognize the color of the new floor tiles.

The rest was a blur.

Dr. Miller was April’s last effort to persuade Leo and Raph that Mikey needed professional counseling. At this point, Mikey didn't have enough will to have a strong opinion on his treatment, he didn't have the will to do anything, really. All his days were spent sleeping by day and having terrible night anxiety, followed by an earth-shattering cry until morning, when he went back to sleep. Despite their best effort to care for and protect the younger sibling, all of his brothers knew that he had become impossible to handle - and more important than that, his emotional and physical dependency got so intense that it was perfectly clear that there was nothing they could do: Michelangelo need help, professional help.

On the first day they entered Dr. Miller’s office, April had reassured everybody she had send the therapist recent photos of Mikey and explained all his possible triggers in detail. The clinic would open two hours early so that they could have privacy and that this first encounter would include Mikey, his brothers and Sara Miller only.

Mikey was so nervous he felt like this situation alone would end up triggering his next attack: his hands were sweaty, his chest heavy and the feeling in his stomach made him realize that maybe he would throw up all those recent pizza slices. When the door to her office opened, he felt an immediate relief upon looking at her.

Sara (as he would start calling her later) was a 67 years old black woman, wearing a knitted cardigan and a puffy ponytail. She looked at him with eyes free from any king of judgment: any kind of feeling at all, actually, it was very… neutral. After gazing at him and his brothers she had smiled lightly and then calmly said:

"Good morning. I am Dr. Miller. Are you Michelangelo?" Mikey just nodded " Welcome. Please, come in.”

So he did, on that Monday morning and all the next yet to come, for two years straight.

━━━━━━ • ✿ • ━━━━━━

“Did you see the interview?” Mikey asked just as he entered her office, not even worrying about greeting Sara.

“Yes I did.” She answered with the same peaceful deep voice, unbothered by the absence of a greet “You looked very handsome.”

“I sure did!” The mutant turtle seated at the large red sofa, his body melting in the comfortable cushions, he grabbed one of the small pillows behind him and held it tight against his chest “Ugh! It was so fun!”

Sara smiled. She always gave him a kind of smile that made Mikey feel like she was the perfect embodiment of a fairytale grandma and for the first time, Michelangelo actually considered she might actually be someone else’s grandmother.

“I am glad to hear that. Did you do the exercises he practiced?”

Mikey hummed “It helped. But what really made all difference was that Leo was there. And April. Oh, April is getting married!” He announced “She and Casey told us about the engagement just after we all saw the interview air. It was a great night.” He stopped for a minute and laid his head against the couch, focusing on the abstract painting that always caught his attention since the first day he sat there, he knew his voice let out a sadness he was trying to hide. He didn’t need to pretend there.

“It was… Weird, I guess… Like, I should be happy for them, right? Casey is a nice man, he treats her right, they already have a life together, an apartment with a huge TV and an aquarium… I can’t argue with that, right? Right?” Sara didn’t answer, Michelangelo laid his head completely on the couch, staring at the sealing “She was my first love…. Or something like it. I feel so attached to her and…” He sighed deeply and closed his eyes, trying to measure all the feelings filling his chest “...I think I… Should I feel happy for her? Because I felt… Huh, I felt betrayed.”

“Do you feel resentment?” Dr. Miller finally asked, gazing calmly at him.

“Yeah, I guess… I didn’t know what I expected... and I don’t want to marry April. Not anymore, I mean. She is like a sister to me. No! It’s more than that… She’s like… I- It just.. it was all so fast! Everything is so fast right now, and she decided to announce just as the interview ended and I felt so… I felt so overshadowed!”

“You felt it was your night.”

“It WAS my night. And I don’t mean to sound selfish, you know? I just… Wished they had waited.”

Sara looked at her patient making a conscious effort to avoid giving away her own feelings, the enormous man in front her had a gloomy expression and tired eyes.

“Mikey, is not the first time you mention feeling like this.”

“Like what?”

“ Overshadowed .” She quoted him.

“Yeah… I guess it's something I’ve been feeling for a while.”

“You mentioned once that you felt… Smushed, is the word you used.”

“Yeah. Smushed between my brothers.”

“Hmm” Sara nodded “What about that?”

“Well, you know about that… They are all special in their own way. Leo is the leader, Raph is the muscle, Donnie is the genius, I am the… Comic relief?”

“You sound like you are all characters of a cartoon.”

“We look like it!” Mikey said, humorous. Sara did her best to contain a tiny smile that formed in her cheeks.

“Well, you are your own person, Mikey. You don’t have to fulfill an imaginary role you fantasized for yourself.”

“Yeah I feel like you’re always telling me that.” He sighed “What this has to do with April?”

“You were telling me about her engagement…”

“Yeah. It was crazy… I mean, me, Leo and Raph kept it together but Donnie just… Bolted.” A nervous laugh escaped him “She told the news and he just… Left. I guess it was too much for him. You know, April was the only person we knew for so long… It was only natural to fall for her, right? She’s so nice, kind, and after the expected first meeting shock she treated us with… Dignity is the world Master Splinter likes to use... But then we all grew out of it.”

A long silence followed before he complemented:

“I guess Donnie didn’t”

━━━━━━ • ✿ • ━━━━━━

Donatello felt his feet too tight against the leather shoe and considered for the third time on that evening that maybe this was a terrible idea.

Ignoring his own better judgement, he knocked.

Alicia Ellis awakened in him two utterly contradictory and madding feelings: disgust and lust.

Many times he had tried - and succeeded- at disguising the amount of attention he paid to her body, especially since the context they first met didn’t allowed for flirtatious endeavors and despite knowing his physical body was searching it’s hormonal peak, Donatello proud himself on being utterly respectful: an effort that he felt he was making alone. Ellis never even tried to hide her indiscreet wants, playing with their encounters just enough to not be considered harassment, but clear enough to not allow ambiguity. Was that even possible? Donnie asked himself. Did it even matter now?

He felt disgusted mostly towards himself, actually, knowing full well why he had come to her apartment after that eventful night, just as the women he thought he could win over announced her engagement to the man he honestly felt he could one day surpass - pathetic, he beat himself again, cringing at the mere fact he once imagined a possible future for them, together. What a pathetic, emotional, delusional monster you are, dreaming about the pretty girl that once held your hand… And now you surrender to your most selfish desire, luring this woman who will be stupid enough to let you in.

This is going to ruin you. Was the last thing he thought before she opened the door.

She was astonishingly beautiful, with her thick luxurious wavy hair and round plump figure, pressed against a tight outfit he didn’t have enough interest to notice in detail.

“Took you long enough.” She said in a malicious tone, grabbing him by his belt. The apartment was warm, had a delicious floral smell and it was lit in subtle yellow light that mimicked candles. It was sexy, inviting and terribly scary, just like her.

This is going to ruin me . The feeling echoed towards Donnie as he willfully closed the door behind him.

It wasn’t hard for him to understand why a woman like her would take interest in being with a man like him, the internet had allowed Donnie to have a very indiscreet access to the human world - especially since people seemed really comfortable in sharing online things they wouldn’t even tell a best friend - and he knew way before they even came out to the surface that most probably wouldn’t be difficult to find someone willing to share a bed with him. Alicia was just a part of a very niche - yet not so small as one may think - group.

The thought brought him a small relief and a strike of courage that he much needed at that moment.

“I didn’t think you would come.” She said, bringing two glasses of a clear-yellow liquid. What an inappropriate move to bring a glass of white wine to a young adult not-yet-of-age , his better judgment told him as he accepted the glass, but wasn’t he 21 yet? Yes, he was... Maybe it was just judgment.

“Me neither” He answered after a sigh, too honest for his own sake.

“What changed your mind?” She mischievously asked, crossing her legs in an angle that brushed against his knee.

Donatello considered for a minute to said the truth, my heart was broken and honestly I really want to have sex, how would she respond to that? Was there a polite way of saying it? Instead, he said: “I’ve decided to change my approach on things.”

“Oh, really?” She smiled honestly “...And how’s that gonna happen?”

I will take every opportunity that life gives me, irrespective of its consequences, “I’ll stop sabotaging my wants…” He turned his body a little bit in her direction, he had planned a second sentence to follow but it seemed like he had already said all she needed to hear.

She slid her knee between his legs to climb his lap, brushing the space between the buttons of his shirt lightly. How quickly she hopped on top of him and how quickly his body responded to the feel of her warm perfumed breath against his neck. “That’s great to hear.”

It wasn’t Donatello’s first kiss but the tension of feeling the soft lips of a woman he barely knew nothing about added to the oh-so-suggestive friction of her thighs against his zipper made it an entirely new experience. If he granted himself a moment of reason, Donnie would most likely find her too hurried and eager - but again, what was his experience in this field? Wasn’t this how the encounter should go? What else was he expecting? Independent of what his reason may have considered, the friction of her palms against the now prominent bulge in his pants added to the delicious sounds coming from her throat made every single indecision go away.

He felt his head light and dizzy as their tongues danced against each other and the urge to feel relief made him bold. She answered the squeeze he gave her bottom with an audible moan that gave Donatello’s stomach a cold wave of shock along with the first visible stain in between his paints. She felt the thickness of his fluid against the fabric and smiled against his lips.

“Such a passionate… response.” She said in what sounded like a performative tone - well, she was a journalist.

He took her incentive and slide her tube dress above her ass, stoking it as he lowered his lips to her neck. Her skin was soft and the way it reacted to his mouth - the small flinches of her body and the building pressure between his legs could only compare to the amazing feeling of her silk soft thigh skin. She used her hands to guide his head further down, lowering the piece of garment herself, he instinctively took one of her nipples in his mouth, enjoying the contrast between the soft skin of her breasts and the beaded texture of her nipples.

When Alicia laid her body against him on the couch, he followed her moves and felt the soft pillow against his head, the discreet but unmistakable sound of his zipper being opened followed by her stocked gasp at his member followed by “Oh I’m gonna have fun tonight!”. Donatello held her waist closer to his own, trying to reach her lips again, wondering if he could say the same. The warmth between her legs and the delicious feeling that jolted through his body and she aligned him to her entry - and the irresistible pleasure of feeling his tip tease her plump lips - made him think that the most likely answer was yes .

...And what an unnecessary concern the wine proved to be: he didn’t even get to drink it.

━━━━━━ • ✿ • ━━━━━━

“...you know, Raph made a friend.” Mikey had stood on his feet and now looked through the squared window. He had a regular habit of standing up during the sessions, usually as they were reaching the middle of the appointment. Sara it wrote down anyway, before adding:

“Really?”

Mikey hummed “...It’s a complicated story - but he left to buy a bear, this old man didn’t want to sell it to him, so he got really angry, so someone threatened to call the police, so he started to freak out and then this… girl appeared!” He was switching his body height between his legs “Clara. What a name! Heh- I don’t get to say that, huh? Well, her name was Clara and he said she looked like an anime version of a character from Fresh prince of bel air … Can you imagine?” He turned to look at her. Sara just nodded.

“Wanna hear some really crazy stuff? Raph told me that they were talking and she told him she saw my interview… and she said she was in love with me!” He offered his therapist an incredulous happy smile “ME! Can you believe it?”

Sara hummed and made another note.

“I know she was kidding, I don’t think she loves me. But saying it like this sounds like… Like I am a celebrity! Like she would like to know me… Like…”

“Like you have been seen.”

“HELL YEAH!” He exclaimed, sitting down on the couch again grabbing his trust-worthy pillow “... And that sucker didn’t even got her number…” A deep sigh followed silence. Very discreetly, Dr. Miller checked her watch.

“It doesn’t matter, really, it just made me realize… That I wished I had someone…”

More silence.

“-I know I already have someone, if that's what you’re gonna say… I know my brothers are my care net and that I have friends and confidants, and bla bla bla”.

“Well I wasn’t going to…” She said peacefully.

“ I want… A lover . Someone to be my special one. Someone to cherish and spoil and share my life with! Someone who can say they’re in love with me… For real.”

More deep silence.

“... And why don’t you?” She finally prompted. Michelangelo turned to look at her with a impatient expression:

“Are you kiddin’ me?”

“I am definitely not.”

“You can’t be that cynical!”

“I am not.”

“Sara…” He sighed uneasily “... not this again.” she heard pain in his words.

“You have the right to live, Mikey.” She gazed at him with the same kind eyes, letting her strong words get to him “...Just like anyone else.”

This time, that was an anxious silence. Michelangelo rubbed his hands together as if he was facing a cold storm “What if it happens again?”

“Then you will do what we practiced.” She waited for an answer that didn’t come “... Do you wanna remember it once again with me?”

He simply nodded.

“I am more…” She started.

“...than people perceive me.”

“I’ve the right…”

“...to occupy space.”

“No one…”

“No one can deny me my right to live.”

“That was great, Mikey.” Dr. Miller said kindly.

He squeezed the tears away from his eyes, not even realizing they were there. “...Yeah… Yeah, it was.”

━━━━━━ • ✿ • ━━━━━━

It was certainly.... Memorable , Donatello thought, staring at his brand new shoes as they made the path back to the lair. How was it again that he found himself in that situation? That sad looking, empty feeling, walk-of-shame. Oh, yeah, Alicia Ellis.

Something felt terrible wrong about that whole endeavor. He tried to think about the details, to analyze the facts: it has been clearly consensual, sober, communicative sex. So why did he feel like some part of him had been left behind in that apartment? Was it his clear shyness when they finally consumed the act or her generous overlook at his even clearer lack of experience? Had him fail his mission? Factually not! He performed… Fine - it was hard to measure, but she seemed pleased enough. He was also pleased… Physically, at least.

So why did he feel so… Empty?

He walked among the streets of New York without the concern his older brother seemed to carry. Donatello was always really good at not carrying - just as he was good at carrying too much . Oh, yes, his overthinking nature was still going to kill him, no matter how hard he tried to pretend like it didn’t matter at all.

Nothing mattered, everything mattered. What a contradictory and childish state of mind. Could he ever find balance? Would he ever be able to take risks and still be prudent? To be disappointed and not lose all faith? To love deeply and move over from it, stronger and ready to love again? Did he ever truly love her ?

He remembered her ring shining against the light, mocking his defeat. A zirconium, Casey Jones… Can’t even buy her a real diamond . He muttered to himself and the night, kicking a small rock in the path.

The worst part, the real strike of the devil - was the fact that she looked immensely happy. Heartbreakingly happy. And there was nothing, nothing in this world that Donnie could think that could justify taking this away from her - not even the fantasy that she could be happier.

He took a deep breath and grabbed the keys in his pocket. That was no way out of it: we would have to get over her. At least now he knew that running away to unknown women’s homes was not a viable solution.

#TMNT #TMNT Michelangelo #TMNT Donatello #TMNT Bayverse #tmnt smut #tmnt fanfic #in broad daylight #it took so long but I am really proud #the response to the first chapter was been lukewarm but I am happy with it anyway #mikey is my baby

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youreacowgirllikeme · 3 years

Text

White Lie

note: this plot entered my head and refused to leave, so here we go. Enjoy

words: 2.7 k

warning: swearing, smut (unprotected sex)

“Bliss!” you thought, taking in the unique smell of the bookstore. The last few weeks had been crazy, work keeping you on your toes even on the weekends. This was your first free day in over a month, and what was better than spending it at your favorite place in town.

You loved aimlessly browsing the dozens of shelves for something new to read, your favorite pastime since childhood. You were still contemplating about the kind of lecture you were looking for when a bright red book spine caught your attention. You had always been a person who could be easily attracted by a pretty, colorful cover, so your hand instinctively surged forward to grab the book out of the shelf. But before you could get a hold on it, another hand got in your way, blocking yours and snatching the volume right under your nose.

You were about to complain to whoever had the audacity to get between you and a book, when you looked up at the stranger.

“He’s so tall.” Was the first thing that came to your mind, followed almost instantly by “And hot.” You could feel yourself starting to get slightly flustered, your initial anger forgotten.

“Oh, I’m so sorry, I didn’t think anyone else besides me could be that interested in the medias influence on the US’s political relationship with China.” The stranger said. He had a smooth, deep voice, the kind of voice you could easily imagine yourself listing to for hours. You stared at him, your usually quick brain a bit overwhelmed with your body’s visceral reaction to the mans presence .

“Political relationship with China?” you repeated, confused and sounding like the biggest idiot ever to your own ears.

“Yes, because that’s what this is about.” The man turned the book around so you could look at the cover. “You’re aware that you’re in the politics section?” He added, slower, like he was talking to a child.

You tried to collect yourself, you usually prided yourself on your quick-wittedness and you didn’t like how nervous this stranger was making you at all. You didn’t know what it was about him, maybe his imposing figure or his intense gaze, but he was intimidating.

“Oh, yes, I was searching for a similar looking book.” You lied quickly. “My mistake.”

Turning around to another shelf with some new arrivals, you grabbed the first red-spined book that caught your eyes.

“Here. That’s the one I actually want.” You replied, showing the random book to the man. He mustered the cover and a small smirk settled over his face.

“The Hellfire Club, huh? You’re a fan of political thrillers?” he asked, a hint of amusement in his voice.

“Of course, huge fan. I’ve read all of the authors works, been really looking forward to this one. I heard it’s set in New York.” In reality, you didn’t have the slightest clue what this book was about, and even less why you were lying to this random guy about it. Did you just want him off your back, or did you want to impress him, engage him in conversation? He was fascinating and for some reason you felt like this conversation was spinning a bit out of your control.

The man raised his eyebrows at you, looking like he could sense your nervousness.

“It’s a decent book, I guess. But I heard the author is a real prick.” He gave you an almost conspiratorial wink. “I have to go now, but enjoy it. New York is definitely a fascinating city.” He turned around and left in the direction of the checkout.

You opened the book, looking inside to find out who this guy was having such a low opinion about. There was a small picture of the author in there, and as you studied it you felt like you might get sick.

It was the stranger from moments before. Jake Tapper. You had lied to Jake Tapper. You groaned internally, why the hell hadn’t you recognize him?

Yes, you didn’t watch his shows, too little time. But he was something like a celebrity, and you blatantly told him absolute bullshit about his own book in an attempt to appear cleverer than you were. How had this guy been able to unsettle you that way?

“The damn Capitol is literally on the cover, you idiot.” You whispered to yourself, absolutely mortified. You had to go after him and clear this up or you would never rest again.

But as your eyes scanned the bookstore, he was already making his way out, disappearing onto the crowded street.

+++

Two weeks later, you still couldn’t think about the encounter without being totally embarrassed. You had bought the book, and of course it wasn’t set in New York. But it was a fascinating read, you weren’t able to put it away for the whole weekend, finishing it only three days after you purchased it.

At the same time, you weren’t able to stop thinking about Jake Tapper either. Even in the brief moment you shared with him, he had managed to leave a lasting expression, and your thoughts were circling around his dark eyes and deep voice more often than you’d care to admit.

The sound of an incoming email disturbed your thoughts, and as you checked, it your heart did a little jump in your chest. It was the newsletter from your favorite bookstore, announcing an event with no one else than Jake Tapper himself, signing copies of his latest political thriller The Hellfire Club.

Without even thinking about it twice, you signed yourself up for the event. You had to see him again, try to explain yourself and get some closure about the situation, or those thoughts of him would probably haunt you forever.

+++

You’ve been anxiously waiting in line for thirty minutes now, and finally it was your turn. As soon as the man’s eyes landed on you, he raised his eyebrows and a smug smile settled over his face

“And so, we meet again. I sincerely hope the lack of New York content wasn’t too much of a disappointment.”

So he remembered you. Great.

“Ok, I deserve that.” You murmured, embarrassed by the whole situation. You started to regret even coming here, but now you had to get it over with.

“I just came to, well, apologize, I guess. And prove that I’m not an idiot.” Why were you blabbering like that? This man’s scrutiny made you so nervous, his attentive gaze was fixed on you while you were struggling to explain the situation.

“I loved the book, by the way, great style and the storyline was very captivating. Even without New York.” You added, a weak attempt at a joke. To your total surprise, he chuckled, a sound that made you even more agitated. By now, you were sure that your face was the color of a fire truck.

“I’m glad you enjoyed it.” Jake replied. “And no hard feelings about what happened. Maybe I should let my next novel play in New York in reference to our encounter. Also, I am at a bit of a disadvantage here, you know my name but haven’t told me yours.”

You quickly introduced yourself, and he reached over the desk to take the book you held in your hand. When you didn’t let go immediately, his hand stopped, and he looked at you with a puzzled expression. His fingers were brushing against yours, a fact that obviously overwhelmed your brain as you weren’t able to move a muscle to hand over the book.

Touching him made a spark went through you, and from the way Jakes eyes slightly darkened, you could tell that he had felt it as well. You stared into each other’s eyes for seconds until someone in line behind you coughed, and you snapped out of your frenzy.

“I assumed you want me to sign your copy.” Jake mumbled, still holding onto your book.

“Yes, of course. I’m sorry.” You replied hastily, handing him the volume and internally cursing your body for the nervous, awkward way it behaved in front of this man.

Jake grabbed a pen, signing the front page and scribbling a note into the bottom right corner. He handed it back to you, and you opened to read what he had written. It was a row of numbers, and before you could make sense of it, he spoke again.

“That’s my number. I would love to hear some more of your potential book ideas, if you’d be interested. Maybe over dinner, or some drinks?” His voice was smooth, but there was a hint of insecurity, like the smallest crack in his façade.

Was he asking you out? Quick, you told yourself, say something.

“Uhm, yeah, sounds good.” Wow, great response. Pulling yourself together, you added “I’d love to.”

“Great. I’m looking forward to hearing from you, Y/N. Now, I’m sorry, but I think there are some more readers who demand my attention.” Jake said, pointing to the waiting people behind you. “I’ll see you around?”

“Absolutely!” you burst out, your own voice sounding terribly loud to your own ears, and without saying goodbye, you turned around and fled the bookstore.

+++

Back at home, you tried to make sense of everything that had happened. First of all, you had, one more time, acted like a train wreck in front of Jake Tapper. And secondly, it obviously hadn’t bothered him too much, because he had really asked you out.

What brought the next problem, what was an appropriate time to call him? Your head went through every possible option, from phoning him right now to never contacting him again to save yourself from further embarrassment. After some back and forth, you decided to wait another day, that gave you enough time to think about what to say to him.

+++

“Hello, Jake Tapper speaking.”

Hearing his voice was enough to make your own go slightly shrill with nervousness.

“Uhm, hi, this is Y/N, from the bookstore yesterday, you remember?”

“Of course I remember.” Jake replied, “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“I was wondering, if the offer still stands, I’d love to have dinner with you somewhere.” You were proud that you managed to keep your voice steady despite your fluttering nerves.

“Absolutely, whenever your free. How does Saturday sound?”

+++

It was Saturday, and the restaurant you had agreed on was packed with people. The food was great, and the company even more so. After a glass of wine, your initial anxiety had eased down a bit, allowing you to engage in some actual conversation with Jake. He was as fascinating as you had expected, and you found yourself dreamily staring at his eyes and the way they lit up when he was talking about something he was especially passionate about.

You discovered your shared love for books, and the bookstore you had met in in particular, it was Jake’s favorite as well.

“How is it that I have never seen you there before?” you asked.

Jake shrugged, leaning back into his chair.

“Unfortunately, I don’t have much time to go there, and when I do its usually first thing in the morning when they open up. But I buy a book every time. And I’m glad we finally ran into each other.” He leaned towards you again, focusing his eyes on you in a way that made your body heat up.

“I’m glad you even wanted to see me again after that awful first impression.” You mumbled, it was still uncomfortable to talk about that. But Jake just chuckled softly, reaching out to grab your hand, intertwining his fingers with yours. For a moment, the soft stroking of his thumb against your skin was everything you could focus on.

“It definitely wasn’t awful, far from it actually. And please don’t assume I wasn’t nervous as well, you are gorgeous and were browsing the politics section of the bookstore. I just had to talk to you.”his voice was dropping a bit as he pressed his thumb down against a sensitive spot on your palm, making you gasp slightly.

Somehow, the knowledge that you had made the Jake Tapper nervous gave your ego a slight boost.

"Well, you didn’t show it, but I’m glad I’m not the only one who felt that way.” You said, squeezing Jakes hand and, in a moment of bravery, began to slide your bare foot slowly against his leg. His sharp intake of breath told you that it had the intended effect on him.

“So you buy a book every time you’re in the store.” You continued, trying to appear unfazed while still keeping contact under the table. “Your bookshelf must be impressive.”

“I have quite the collection.” Jake replied, his voice a low growl now. His pupils were blown, making his eyes appear dark and almost hungry.

With a quick move, he reached under the table to where your foot had almost reached the inside of his tight and grabed your ankle in a strong grip. A tingling sensation went from where was was touching you all the way up to your core and you clenched your legs together.

„Careful, Y/N. Don’t tease me.“ Jake pressed out in a slightly stained voice.

The tension between the two of you was almost palpable by now.

“I’d just love to see your bookshelf, Jake.” you whispered, biting your lip. You wanted this man, and from the way he was watching you, you could tell that the desire was definitely mutual.

+++

One hurried bill and speedy car ride later, you found yourself pressed against Jake Tappers bookshelf by the man himself. Your hands were tangled in his hair as he was kissing you, his own fingers nestling with the buttons of your jeans. Your shirt already lay discarded on the floor along with his own, and the bare skin of his chest felt amazing where it was pressed against yours.

You groaned when Jake moved his lips to your jaw, kissing down your neck and softly biting into the junction of your shoulder. He slid your jeans down your hips, and you hastily stepped out of them before doing the same to his trousers, leaving the both of you in only your underwear.

When you grinded your core against his boxer-clad erection, he roughly grabbed your ass and pulled you over to the sofa.

"Enough with the damn teasing.“ he growled into your ear, pushing you down onto the soft cushions.

“Jake, please.” You whimpered as he unclasped our bra with one hand and pinched one of your bared nipples with the other.

You could barely think straight anymore, aching for his touch, your panties already slick with need. He pulled them down your legs, his fingers leaving a burning trail where they were brushing over your skin.

“Fuck, you’re soaked.” He whispered when his fingers finally found their way between your tights. He circled your clit, but the soft pressure he applied wasn’t enough for you.

“Please.” You repeated, your voice only a breathy moan by now. “I need more.”

Jake softly swore under his breath, retreating his fingers before standing up and getting rid of his underwear. He took a moment to look down at you, taking in your naked body, splayed out on his couch, your legs spread.

The intensity of his gaze made you squirm and bite your lip in anticipation, he looked like he wanted to devour you.

“Look at you, all needy and ready for me. You are gorgeous, Y/N.” Jake said in a stained voice, before moving to lie on top of you, claiming your lips in a bruising kiss. His erecrion teased your entrance, his hands grabbing your thighs with a hard grip as he slowly entered you. You groaned into his mouth as he filled you until he bottomed out.

With a nudge of your pelvis, you encouraged him to start moving. His pace was slow at first, but he increased his speed as you raked your nails across his back and spurred him on with whispers of his name and pleads to go faster, harder.

“You feel so good, fucking amazing.” Jake growled, one of his hands grabbing a fist of your hair while the other one squeezed your ass, his nails digging into your skin, creating just the right amount of pain to drive you crazy.

You wrapped your legs around his hips and he groaned against your skin as he deepened his thrusts, driving you closer and closer to your climax.

His hard, relentless gaze never left yours as he was fucking you and being the focus of his unwavering attention gave you a heady feeling.

When he told you to come, it almost sounded like a command, and you clenched around him as you reached your peak. He followed you after a few more thrusts, holding you tightly as he came inside you.

“Wow.” You whispered, pressing your forehead against Jakes. He stroked your hair, eyes still settled on you, and it felt as if he could see your every thought.

“That was incredible.” you continued, and Jake hummed in agreement before pulling out and rolling off you. He still watched you with the same unreadable expression for a moment, before he spoke out.

“I want to be honest, Y/N. I hope tonight wasn’t a one-time thing for you.”

Your heartrate that had just slowed down a bit sped up again, a broad, happy smile settling over your face.

“That depends.” You replied.

Jake arched an eyebrow at you. “And on what exactly?”

“How impressive the content of your bookshelf really is.”

#jake tapper #jake tapper imagine #jake tapper x reader #jake tapper fic #cnn #cnn anchors #fanfiction

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signed-yours-truly-the-whale · 4 years

Text

Thoughts/Observations on Joker, part 1

AKA I Spent 7 Hours on This, I Will Die if it Gets Less Than Three Notes

I could rave for hours about this movie’s cinematography. Literal hours.

Nobody talks enough about Arthur’s full-fledged dedication to his clown craft. Man is working 60+ hours a week and does not break a sweat. I also fucking love this clowny face he pulls here. The first shot we see of Arthur in full. Holy shit is it beautiful. God bless Joaquin Phoenix.

These two shots together are incredibly important to me. In a split-second we see Arthur’s disbelief that he cannot control the whirlwind of emotions inside of his own head, not even being able to produce a smile, and then his resignation because it’s just another day. Heartbreaking.

Awwww shiiiiit

Gotham City is such a dump but I’d be bullshitting myself if I said I didn’t love the grimy aesthetic of it. It’s technicolor trash.

Arthur loves his job so much. He genuinely enjoys being Carnival. That hurts a lot to think about in hindsight.

This man just got his ass handed to him and he is STILL SPRAYING THE FAKE FLOWER ON HIS VEST

YOU WANNA TALK ABOUT DEDICATION

This opening card is so imposing. Not only does it take up the entire screen to the point of running off the edges, but it’s shielding Arthur from view. Arthur is invisible in light of Joker in Arthur’s own movie.

I screenshotted this by accident but I felt a need to put it here because he’s just so adorable. Even right before an episode.

E y e s s s s s

E Y E S S S S S

I desperately want to know what got Arthur sent to Arkham the first time. A suicide attempt? A public breakdown? I really want fanfics of it.

There’s a really, really good fanfiction on AO3 by Arthur_Fleck about Arthur slowly recovering and meeting a girl called In the Major and Minor Arcana

I highly, highly recommend it

Okay. Joaquin’s immersion into his characters -- all of them -- is absolutely incredible. But Arthur is just ... off the charts, man. No two of his characters are the same and he embeds himself so deeply in their skin, but Joaquin buried himself so deeply into Arthur’s brain that it is so hard for me to see any of Joaquin at all. God, he’s incredible and this shot makes me emotional because this just is Arthur.

ARTHUR WOULD BE A GREAT DAD AND I DO NOT ACCEPT ARGUMENTS

It really speaks to how shitty Gotham is that this man is having a full-fledged screaming/laughing breakdown on the bus and nobody is batting an eye

I adore how the cinematography paints Arthur as so small to his own environment. He’s a speck of dust. A fleck.

Babie is wincing :((((

I have been trying to figure out the layout of this apartment for months and my inability to, even with a floor plan, is driving me insane

I just found out that the Budweiser beer jingle Here Comes the King is on the soundtrack and plays when Arthur comes home and that made me go feral

I A M M U R R A Y , K I N G O F A S S H O L E S

It is second nature for me to do this stupid pose every time I watch this scene

Arthur blending into the crowd here makes me ... so happy. He looks so happy.

This is Arthur’s best laugh of the movie, fuck you. I am incredulous that I was the only person laughing when I saw this in the theater opening night.

This is one of the few moments I really see Joaquin shine through Arthur. I don’t know why, but this lighting and his voice and his intensity gives me visceral flashbacks to watching a little boy Joaquin in Parenthood. God, I love this man.

It really is a testament to Penny’s (lack of) parenting that Arthur is day dreaming about receiving affection and validation from a parent figure when his own mother is literally right there

GOD DAMN THIS MAN IS GORGEOUS

But also big bruise :(

Yes, I shall trust you, man named Randall smiling down at me in low angle light

Why was Hoyt not informed that Arthur got his ass beat on the job? As Arthur’s employer he should’ve literally been the first person to know so he could make a note of it. Either he wasn’t told or he gave so little of a fuck that his consciousness astral projected to another plane of existence while he shoved the white powder down his throat and forgot Arthur existed at all.

Literally fuck Hoyt. I hate him even more that his office is the coolest shit in the world

ARTHUR KNOWS THE CUSTOMER SERVICE SMILE

Joaquin dislocated his knee in this scene, the poor boy

I could write a full damn essay about why the misleading advertising of Sophie as a prominent character was the greatest twist of the whole movie. Literally I am still speechless how the movie did that.

I am not kidding when I say my sister has this same color scheme in the bathroom of our house and realizing that made me werewolf

Also Arthur being the son Penny doesn’t deserve warms and breaks my heart

The complete lack of reaction to Penny’s “Don’t you have to be funny to be a comedian” makes me laugh and cry internally

This shot? Gorgeous. His face? Deadly. That jawline? Cutting diamonds. Hotel? Trivago.

I really, really want a Joker 2, but at the same time I do not want a Joker 2 because Joaquin Phoenix has a baby who needs him now and he cannot be pulling shit like losing 52 lbs for a role

Also I REALLY need to discuss how much this brass ballet reminds me so heavily of Buffalo Bill from Silence of the Lambs. Holy fuck, I got actually chills in the theater

Like holy fuck

And then this shot reminds me so heavily of the opening of Fedddy vs Jason with Freddy Krueger laughing over his newspaper collage of missing children. Holy fuck I love this cinematography.

Guys. G - Guys, his name tag says Dr. Carnival, can you hear me s o b b i n g

This part is so Chaplinesque, the way he slides the gun into his coat again

These children look so afraid of him for dropping the gun and wowie, does that really hurt

Was this asshole supposed to be modeled after Eric Trump? Because I get really douchebaggy Eric Trump vibes (minus the jacked teeth) from this ringleader

I don’t have much to say here except I am in love with the way Artie’s hair sticks straight up in bottle curls when the clown wig slides off

Also if you decide it’s a good idea to mess with a man dressed as a clown laughing maniacally on the subway of one of the most dangerous cities in the world, you are asking him to shoot you and I will not feel sorry for you

I will never not be in love with this image. I fell in love with it in the teaser trailer and almost went feral in the middle of the mall when I saw this was the poster they used to advertise the movie with. My friend described this movie as “chaos, beautified,” and nothing sums it up as well as this picture.

JOAQUIN AND TODD MADE THIS ENTIRE SEQUENCE UP AND I AM IN LOVE

Hello, handsome

#joker #joker 2019 #arthur fleck #joaquin phoenix

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darlingandmreames · 3 years

Text

Different Languages (But I Understand You All The Same)

Extraction was full of broken people. But perhaps, every once in a while, their broken edges were less like shards of glass and more like puzzle pieces

(also on ao3)

*******************************************************************************************

Eames was bad at relationships.

He was excellent at flings and affairs, brief periods of passion and high emotion where you put your most romantic side forward. He knew how to have fun, how to make his partner feel special and wanted as they both rode the rush of excitement. He had always been good at that. Better than most, he was willing to reckon.

It was the comedown that he was bad at. The quiet calm after the passion began to cool. Eames had stared down the barrel of guns both in dreams and real life with barely a blink, but there was something in the tentative step from a fling to a relationship that frightened him. He was a forger, a man who wore masks and disguises and personas for a living, and those personas had long since stopped being restricted to jobs. The idea of dropping the layers of masks he wore for long enough for another person to get to know him was terrifying on a visceral level that made Eames recoil from even the thought.

So he ran. Reinforced his defenses at the first sign of authentic intimacy and pulled away. He pushed his partners away until they finally grew tired enough of trying to bridge the gap he kept widening to simply give up. It had gained him a reputation over the years- fun but flakey, an adventure but nothing long term. Good for a fun few weeks or months, but nothing more. He wore his reputation the same way he wore his various disguises, using it to cover how adrift and unmoored he felt in the quiet of a settled relationship. The whirlwind of chaos was where he felt at home and it was simply easier to let his partners leave when they decided they wanted something quieter than to try and adapt to the silence itself.

But Arthur didn’t leave.

Eames had felt his dread grow in a way it never quite had before as the excitement of their first few months together began to fade. It grew as he pushed Arthur away just like he had everyone else, mixing with self-loathing because he didn’t want Arthur to leave. There was something wonderful about the way Arthur looked at him, about the feeling of having Arthur’s attention and focus directed at him, and Eames didn’t want that to end. It had to though. Because eventually Arthur’s attention and focus would see through Eames’ layers to whatever core he had and he couldn’t let that happen. He couldn’t handle the pain of Arthur seeing whatever his true self was, a person Eames wasn’t even sure he recognized himself anymore, and still leaving. So he resisted Arthur’s attempts to draw him in and pushed him away with a panicked urgency that he hated.

But no matter how hard he pushed, Arthur wouldn’t leave.

He certainly pulled back. Every time Eames pushed Arthur took a step back and gave him space, but he never left. And when Eames had calmed down, when his panic at the offer of intimacy had subsided, Arthur- steady, grounded, unshakeable Arthur- reached back out. It was never anything major, no grand gestures or bold declarations. He never made ultimatums or demanded that Eames bare himself. He simply reached out, waiting patiently as Eames inched closer and closer to being able to reach back. Arthur stayed even as Eames felt his disguises slipping, vulnerability showing through cracks in his masks, and suddenly the calm quiet didn't seem quite so frightening. It was still new and strange and difficult to navigate but every time he began to feel adrift Arthur was there, reaching out with a steady hand and simple gestures to ground him.

He smiled as Arthur set a cup of coffee down on the table next to him. He had no doubt it was exactly the way he liked it; that had been one of the first ways Arthur had reached out, a quiet assurance that he was there and listening even if Eames had been afraid of what that meant. Arthur kissed his temple lightly as he sat down beside Eames. “How’s it coming?”

Eames sighed, looking back at his notes. This job was proving more difficult than he’d anticipated, and figuring out his forge was quickly turning into a royal pain in the ass. “It’s…coming.”

Arthur laughed quietly, opening his laptop back up. “That’s something, I suppose.”

“How’s it going on your end?”

“It’s fine.” Arthur shrugged, pulling whatever document he’d been going through before he’d gone to get coffee back up. “There’s a lot to parse through, but it’s not too bad.”

“Well at least one of us is making progress.” Arthur laughed again and Eames smiled. Spending the rest of the afternoon trying to hammer out the details of his role was far from the most pleasant way he could spend the day, but Arthur’s quiet company would go a long way in making it better.

Arthur’s hand was resting on the table by his computer and after a moment Eames reached over and slipped his hand into Arthur’s, smiling as Arthur intertwined their fingers and squeezed his hand gently. He didn’t understand why Arthur had continued reaching out even as Eames had pushed him away, but that Arthur of all people had decided to keep trying- had somehow decided that Eames was worth it- filled Eames’ chest with warmth every time he thought about it. And being able to reach back knowing that Arthur would still be there, steady and solid as he’d always been, was more beautiful a feeling than he ever could’ve imagined.

XXX

Arthur was bad at relationships.

He was a planner and an organizer and he compartmentalized his emotions in much the same way he organized information when researching a job, setting them aside and focusing on information that was easier to process and understand. On objective facts and impartial data. It was an excellent skill to have as a pointman; there was a time and place for emotions, and on a job simply wasn’t it. The underworld of dream sharing was violent and volatile and the ability to approach it with a distant impartiality allowed him to work with an efficiency and effectiveness that others lacked.

It made navigating interpersonal relationships more difficult though. Arthur preferred working with facts and figures because he understood them. They made sense to him in a way that the emotions he set aside never had. But relationships weren’t made of facts and figures. They were made of complex and messy emotions and the compartmentalization that had served him so well and earned him respect for so many years suddenly put him at a disadvantage. The same words that had been ascribed to him as a pointman- distant, calculating, unaffected, cold- were suddenly thrown at him with an anger he didn’t know how to respond to.

It wasn’t that he didn’t care. He did care, sometimes painfully so. But caring and being able to express that he cared were two very different things. Years of violence and building walls to protect himself and closing off his emotions because that was what you did to survive in the world he lived in had created a gap separating him from others that he didn’t know how to cross. He tried. He tried to express that he cared and show an openness and vulnerability that felt frighteningly foreign to him. To reach out across the gap in whatever small, quiet ways he could, over and over and over again in the vain hope that maybe he could get something across. But it was never enough. He was too distant, too aloof, too cut off, and eventually whoever he was trying to reach decided he wasn’t worth the trouble of waiting.

But not Eames.

Arthur had looked desperately for some way to cross the chasm he always found himself on the wrong side of, for some way to express his feelings in the way that other people demanded. He’d liked Eames. Liked the way he laughed, the way he held him, the way he looked at him and seemed to see a person rather than just a useful asset. But the words and motions other people used to express that felt awkward and uncomfortable and impossible and all Arthur had been able to offer were the same small gestures that had never been enough. So he’d stood on his side of the gap and offered them, trying to ignore the sadness of knowing that they wouldn’t be enough this time either. That no matter how Eames looked at him now, in the end he wouldn’t be worth the effort and Eames would leave all the same.

But Eames didn’t leave.

Eames, who lived loudly and expressively. Who was able to put emotions to words in ways that Arthur had never been able to and expressed them with an ease and clarity that Arthur had always envied. He’d accepted Arthur’s gestures without demanding more, letting Arthur express himself in the quiet, wordless way that had always felt more comfortable without pressure. Arthur hadn’t always understood Eames’ reaction but he’d kept trying, wanting so badly to make himself heard and worried each time that this would be the one that drove Eames away, that he’d reach out only to find no one there to reach out to anymore. Eames had stayed though. He’d stayed as Arthur tried to close the gap, expressing the things Arthur couldn’t find words for and never asking for more than Arthur had been able to give. And when the words finally had come, slowly solidifying into something Arthur could express more concretely, Eames had been there to hear them.

He hummed happily as Eames came up behind him, slipping his arms around Arthur’s waist and pressing a kiss against his jaw. “I’ve always loved you in this suit, darling, you know that?”

Arthur chuckled. “You say that about every suit.”

“Well, that’s because you look good in all of them. It’s not my fault you look so bloody handsome in everything.”

Arthur tried to hide his smile, but he knew the blush he could feel rising in his cheeks gave him away regardless. “Flattery will get you nowhere, Mr. Eames.”

“Mm, maybe.” Eames kissed his jaw again before resting his chin on Arthur’s shoulder. “I don’t plan on stopping any time soon though.”

Arthur leaned his head against Eames’ as he went back to sifting through the various papers on the table in front of him. The silence was comfortable and familiar in a way that it had never been with any of his previous partners, both of them content to simply let the moment sit quietly. When he finally finished sorting the documents Arthur turned, leaning back against the table and resting his arms up around Eames’ shoulders. “Did you still want to grab dinner after this?”

Eames grinned at him. “Been looking forward to it all day, love.”

Arthur couldn’t help but smile back. “Me too.” Gentle warmth spread in his chest the way it always did when Eames looked at him with the fond expression he currently had, like Arthur was something to be treasured. “Have I told you I loved you yet today?”

Eames’ grin widened. “You have.”

“Well, I’m telling you again. I love you.” The words had been difficult for him to say at first, but they came now with the ease of the objective facts Arthur spent most of his time focusing on. He supposed it was only fair; it had long since become just that for him- an objective fact. He loved Eames. He didn’t understand why Eames had stayed, but Arthur would tell him that every day for as long as he was willing to listen. “More than anything.”

Eames’ expression somehow grew even fonder. “That makes two of us, darling.” He leaned in, kissing Arthur gently. “I love you too.”

#arthur x eames #arthur/eames #dream husbands #dreamhusbands #inception #arthur inception #eames inception #A/E #local trash goblin writes stuff

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