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pimosworld · 2 months

Text

Only if you catch me

Pairing- Frankie Morales x f!reader

Chapter Summary-You and Frankie have your first official date.

Chapter Warnings- 18+, MDNI, mentions of addiction, angst, fluff, first date jitters, kissing, sexual tension, flirting, Frankie is a gentleman

WC-6.7k

A/N- These two are so sickeningly sweet I can’t stand it. Reader and Frankie have a long way to go but it almost always starts with butterflies. @toobusyshrimping Thank you for the help with the “foot in mouth” line.

[Series Masterlist][Main Masterlist]

Not beta read

Chapter 2. Composite

For some people, one slip up means disaster. There is a huge emphasis on not taking that first drink. That first drink can trigger the obsession, the compulsion. The need for more and more.

It took Frankie awhile to find an NA meeting not focused on shame, but healing. A place that didn’t ask you to share something about your week like you were a child. A place that didn’t tell you to be comfortable all the while making you sit on hard metal folding chairs in a cold dingey room.

Soft ambient lighting strategically placed to help you relax, instead of the harsh fluorescent lights like you were being interrogated.

It’s a weekly routine.

One Frankie has grown used to over the last year. From that first day feeling like he was going to crawl out of his skin to now being a regular face amongst the crowd.

His knee no longer bounces nervously as he listens to others talk about their battles with addiction. His hands are steady resting along his thighs instead of worrying at the frayed lines on his shirt.

He’s seated facing the door so he sees Jones enter. The older man looked a little more gray than usual. The worry lines deeper and more evident on his face. His clothes could use an iron and he looks on the tail end of a three day bender…but he’s here.

He gravitates towards him and Frankie offers the open seat.

“Look, I’m sorry about…”

Frankie waves him off, not wanting to do the awkward song and dance. Offers him an easy out and a curt don’t let it happen again.

“I hope your lady wasn’t too upset.”

Thankfully the moderator enters the room to save him from an explanation. His lady. A statement he hadn’t heard in awhile. Obviously way too soon to call you that, but he doesn’t feel like correcting him. He may be getting ahead of himself but he hopes he won’t have to correct him.

Frankie hasn’t felt this way about anyone since her. Somewhere deep down where he shoves every ounce of guilt he thinks he may have never felt this way about her at all.

Bonded by trauma and addiction, he somehow thought what they had was love. He thought they were meant for each other because who could possibly love him and all his fucked up past. He started coming to these meetings with her and then she made excuses as to why she didn’t need them anymore. That was the beginning of the end, when he finally realized that maybe they weren’t as compatible as he thought. Each day he healed his trauma, each day he stayed sober they grew further and further apart.

And then Colombia.

Frankie returned with the boys and no Tom. No amount of money could fix the damage they had all done. Fractured and barely holding on, when he needed her the most she came to him so strung out he didn’t recognize her. The woman he used to love, the woman who had laid her life on the line for them so many times he lost count. He’s glad for her sake that Santi couldn’t find her before Colombia or she might not have made it home.

“Francisco, do you want to share anything new about your week?”

All eyes are on him and he’s not sure how long she’s been trying to get his attention. Judging by the sly way Jones tries to hide his smile behind his hands it’s been a second.

He adjusts his cap on his head, nervously running his fingers through his hair. “Umm, not much to share about this week.”

“That’s okay, we don’t always have to share. I’m just glad to see your face.”

He’s not sure where it comes from as she goes to address the next person. As though he has no control over his body when he begins to clear his throat and she redirects her attention back to him.

“Actually.”

He straightens up a little in his seat, squaring his shoulders back.

“I met someone this week.” He’s met with her pleased smile and a few low whistles. “We have a date this Saturday.”

He lets out a sigh of relief, not usually one to share during meetings but never being pushed too. Something makes him want to open up more. Perhaps it’s you.

“I’m proud of you Francisco. For sharing and for putting yourself out there.”

He knows she’s the only one who keeps track of everyone’s recovery process. He brushed it off six months ago when she informed him that he’s been coming in consistently for a year.

The silent understanding that he’d reached a milestone.

He memorized the pamphlet his first time coming in. The only thing he could focus on while his hands shook and his back sweat.

He scoffed when he first read the part about dating.

Dating too soon can be detrimental to mental health and well-being, and increase the risk of relapse. During early recovery, people are still learning to navigate their new sober lives, and dating can be a distraction or replacement addiction. It can also be difficult to maintain sobriety while dating.

He ignored the advice that first month when Benny needed him as a wingman for a double date. He nearly had a panic attack at the restaurant when his date wouldn’t stop pestering him about his time in the military, what he did for work, does he have any siblings. All the monotonous first date conversations that he should be able to answer but her wine stained lips and suffocating perfume were making it all too much.

For what it was worth Benny felt bad when Frankie ditched the date and drove straight to Will’s house because he didn’t trust himself to be alone.

A year and a half later and you come along. A breath of fresh air

The rest of the meeting goes by in a blur of introductions, confessions and thoughts of you as he makes his way out to his truck.

****

“I’m not entirely sure why you think I’m gonna be able to help you pick an outfit.”

Your phone is propped up on top of your mirror with a little FaceTime image of your sister in the corner as you twirl around.

“You used to help me pick outfits all the time Dom.”

“Yes but I have no sense of style now. I spend most days in sweats.”

You step out of frame not satisfied with the third outfit you’d tried as you add to the growing pile of clothes on the bed.

“Tell me more about the date and I might be able to help you.” She yells knowing you’ve gone to your closet.You’ve spent the better part of the last hour hoping to find something that doesn’t remind you of him. You really needed to get some new clothes but that would require money you did not have at the moment.

You pull out your dress from your college graduation. A red satin wrap with a low neckline and a flowy skirt. You may have worn it a thousand times but it’s never done you wrong.

“He said we’re going to dinner, he’s picking me up at seven.Those are all the details I have.” You smooth your hands along the soft fabric as you stand in front of the mirror once more. Standing on your tip toes to get a better look you hear a tiny gasp.

“Auntie you look so pwetty.” You can see the top of your nephew's dark curls just peeking out in the frame as your sister props him on her knee.

“Well I think that’s a winner.” Dom says as she tickles her son and he lets out an excited squeal. “Don’t you think so buddy?”

He nods enthusiastically and you can’t help the grin that spreads across your face.

“I love red!” He yells and you both burst into a fit of laughter.

“Red is his favorite color.” She ruffles his hair as he slides off her lap, bored with the adults' conversation. “Red is bold?”

“Too bold?”

She holds up her hands as she senses the nervousness in your voice. “I’m just saying it’s refreshing to see this side of you again.”

You fix her with a look already knowing where this conversation is heading. A direction you don’t even want to follow right before a date.

“Don’t think I don’t recognize that dress, I haven’t seen you wear it since that party.”

“Dom.” Your voice in a low warning.

“I hated the way he spoke to you and then you never wore it again.”

“Please don’t start.” Your voice trembles as you move out of frame, hastily untying the knot in the dress.

“Come back please, I’m not trying to start a fight!”

You know deep down she’s just being a concerned sister. You’ve been working on this particular trigger with your therapist. Not being able to sense when someone is helping and when someone is judging.

You let out a shaky breath as you grab the phone from the mirror, plopping down amongst the clothes on your bed. A stray tear rolling down your cheek as you see her moving through her house to a quiet room.

“Listen please….I love you and I just want what’s best for you. Don’t shut me out again because it nearly killed us both last time.”

You close your eyes as you listen intently to your sister's words. Trying desperately to shove down the thoughts you’ve kept at bay for the better part of a year.

“I’m not mom okay. I’m not judging you, I just want my sister back. I want that person back who wore the red dress. I want the person back who snuck out with me and got a tattoo for my eighteenth birthday.” She’s crying now and it’s just occurred to you that it’s been ages since you’ve seen her cry. “I want the sister who forged moms signature so she could go skydiving.”

You both let out a guttural laugh when you remember how livid she was at the both of you.

“I saw a glimpse of her the other day when you called me to talk about the job…and just now when you put on that dress.”

You're grateful you still have hours to go before Frankie comes to get you as you wipe the mess on your face and smile back at your sister.

“Jesus Dom, I’ll wear the damn dress. You didn’t need to make me cry.”

She’s smiling ear to ear as she wipes the tears from her face and you both let out wet laughs.

“Call me when you get home please.”

“You know I will. Tell Elise I said hi and tell Casey I love him and thanks for the vote of confidence.”

You hang up the phone and lay in your pile of clothes a little while longer just thinking about what your sister said. She was right. She was always right.

****

6:45 pm

Frankie sits outside your quaint apartment building not wanting to head up too early.

You live on the top floor, which is definitely the safer option for someone like you living alone. The complex isn’t gated and that makes him uneasy.

Anyone can just walk up to your doorstep.

He did notice security driving around which is nice, but security guards are a dime a dozen and they can’t really protect you from much.

It is one of the nicer neighborhoods in town, close to schools and a police station just down the road.

But when do the police ever show up in time.

He can tell he’s obsessing but he can’t really help himself. He is not really sure why he’s even so concerned about these things when it comes to you. He just met you and you’ve lived on your own successfully without him. He doesn’t need to swoop in and save you. In the words of his therapist, you don’t have to be in protective mode all the time.

Easier said than done.

In the time he’s spent scoping out your living situation five minutes have passed. He figures that should give him enough time to head upstairs and only arrive five minutes early. He checks his hair once more in the rear view mirror not totally loving how it looks without his hat but deciding not to fidget with it anymore. He grabs the bouquet of red roses that he thought too hard over at the florist thinking maybe it was too cliche but at her insistence on how romantic of a gesture it was decided to go for it.

****

6:45 pm

You’ve been standing in front of the floor length mirror in your bedroom for the last ten minutes trying to decide on a shoe. You texted your sister and she was no help telling you to go for something wild yet sensible. Those two things could not be more opposite. You didn’t want to go too fancy just in case this was a casual restaurant, but what if it was a really nice restaurant and you decided on a sandal?

You were definitely overthinking this.

You silently curse to yourself knowing you were running out of time and you can’t really go on a date barefoot when you remember some strappy low heels you bought for a wedding awhile ago. Perfectly cute and sensible all at once.

You throw them on and give yourself one last look before you glance at your vanity table. The red lipstick you went back and forth over practically mocking you with the cap off.

I want the person back who wore the red dress.

Your sister's words echoing in the back of your mind.

Fuck it.

You hold the tube in your hand as your fingers tremble slightly. You stare down at the vibrant, fiery hue in stark contrast to your normal understated palette. With a deep breath you carefully apply, the texture smooth and crisp against your lips. When you first take a step back and look, the color is so striking it feels foreign.

It’s also exhilarating and cliche that some red lipstick is giving you this huge boost of confidence.

You grab a black leather purse hanging from your closet door opting to forgo your usual tote bag for something a little nicer. You tuck the lipstick, your phone and a little wallet inside leaving just enough room for Andy. Your sister would probably have your neck for bringing your camera on a date but it was your comfort blanket at the moment and you weren’t ready to let go of it.

A heavy knock on your door and you take a deep breath and glance at the clock on your bedside table.

****

6:55 pm

He knocks once and winces at the loud sound that echoes against the cheap wood. His hands are sweating against the plastic wrapped around the flowers and he hopes he’s not this rusty the rest of the night.

When you greet him at the door he’s sure his heart stops for a few seconds. It’s entirely unexpected, his reaction and his complete underestimation of what he thought you would look like. He knew you were beautiful when he first saw you in the gym but this. This has him questioning everything.

The red.

Your dress and your lips. It’s Pavlovian the way he wants to sink his teeth into them. If this is you then he’s a goner.

“Frankie…do you want to come in?”

“Oh shit…sorry. Ya, these are for you.” He practically shoves the roses at you and thankfully you laugh at his fumbling. He’s not sure how long he stood there gawking at you.

“Why don’t you come in so I can put these in some water.” He’s following the scent of you like a cartoon Pepe le pew through your quaint apartment.

You fumble around the kitchen cabinets looking for a vase as he takes in the space. It already feels a lot more warm and inviting than his five bedroom house that seems like a void of endless drab furniture.

Little hints of you everywhere, a shelf with vintage cameras lined up. An odd shaped purple suede couch in the middle of the room, your coffee table looks like an old door with legs on it, plants hung in any available window. A picture of you with a little baby on the wall along with some of the most vivid scenery shots he’s ever seen. Another picture with a woman who closely resembles you and an older man on what looks like your graduation day, wearing this dress.

“I know I have a lot of…eclectic things.” You say as he turns to you. You’ve somehow trimmed and arranged the roses in the time it’s taken him to inspect your space.

“Is that a pitcher?”

“I mean…technically yes, but it’s serving as my vase since I don’t receive flowers much.”

He hums in disbelief because how could a woman like you not receive flowers just for merely existing.

He doesn’t even know if you realize you’re smiling behind the bouquet. A perfect blend of red that you serve as the backdrop. He takes out his phone and boldly takes a picture.

You squint your eyes at him because he has his sound on.

“Francisco.” Your voice drops an octave dripping all syrupy sweet.

He surely won’t make it with you saying his name like that.

“Yes, that is my name.”

“Did you take my picture?” Hands on your hips and your tongue on your canine.

“Maybe? I get the feeling you’re behind the camera too much.”

You laugh as though it’s some inside joke because it is really. Your sister is always pestering you to be in the photo. But that leaves someone out and it might as well be you.

“Can I see?” You move towards him and place your hand on his arm and he’s tempted to let you. He could read lips if they were yours as he repeats them back to himself.

He places his phone in his pocket and watches as your eyes flit briefly to where it disappeared.

“Not tonight.”

Some other time

You’re not so bold to reach in and see for yourself. You’re so close to him now you can feel his body heat and if this is what weak in the knees feels like then you’re certainly that. It takes every fiber of your being to remove your hand from his arm.

He misses the warmth immediately as you step back but the look on your face shows a sign of that shy girl from the other night.

“Should we?” You gesture to the door. “I don’t want to miss a reservation.”

“No reservations needed. I know the owner of the restaurant.”

You raise your eyebrows and he didn’t mean for it to come out so cocky. “I hope you like Italian.” He changes the subject hoping to avoid the awkwardness that he’s let fall over the room.

“Points for you since that’s my favorite.” You reach for his hand as he leads you out and as you lock up your apartment you have to remind yourself that he’s not your ex. The man who knows the owner, the man who decides what you eat and drink, the man who didn’t care less what you wanted as long as you didn’t embarrass him.

****

If he notices your shift in demeanor he says nothing. It’s easy to relax around Frankie and you notice yourself slipping into a peaceful routine with him. When he opens your door and helps you into the truck. When he instinctively grabs your hand as he drives, you notice his signature cap left at home for your date as his hair blows in the wind.

This doesn’t feel like a first date.

This feels like something you do all the time. Like you fit right into some imaginary puzzle piece in his life. He’s humming some tune under his breath and you’re feeling a little more bold as your fingers lace with his.

You can feel him watching you from the corner of your eye as you look out the window at the familiar surroundings. He likes the way you look next to him, in his truck and something bubbles to the surface that he has to push down to not scare you away too soon.

“I don’t think I told you how beautiful you look tonight.” You glance over at him as his large hand grips the steering wheel. “I was thinking it real hard but the words never came out.”

“I was thinking something similar myself.”

He notes that low timber in your voice when you compliment him. It takes everything in him to keep his eyes on the road.

“I was hoping I wasn’t too overdressed.” You say apprehensively as he pulls into a small parking lot.

“Baby for where we’re going you’re perfectly dressed.”

You don’t have time to even react to the pet name when you see the restaurant come into view as he parks directly in front.

“Frankie, this place is impossible to get a reservation. Trust me I tried and failed when my sister was in town visiting me.”

He smirks as he opens and closes the drivers side door leaving you momentarily to saunter around and open yours.

He holds his hand out to help you down and gently grabs your waist in the other. “Make sure to let me know next time she’s in town.”

“Okay.” You say a little breathlessly as his large hand engulfs yours and he guides you towards the entrance.

****

“Morales for two.”

“Right this way Mr. Morales.” The Maitre d’ leads the way dressed in a tailored suit with a vest and small black bow tie.

The interior is breathtaking as you make your way through the ornate hallway. Chandeliers cast a warm, golden light over the crisp white linens. There’s plush, crushed velvet and intricate woodwork furniture throughout.The walls are adorned with tapestries and the scent of fresh herbs and garlic wafts from the kitchen.

You’ve noticed the entire night Frankie has been sure to walk behind you or beside you. Something you didn’t even realize in your previous relationship was a courtesy you weren’t afforded. Always being pulled along or left behind. His hand is warm, placed gently on your back as you pass by other well-dressed couples engaged in intimate conversations. Their voices a soft murmur against the backdrop of classical music playing somewhere in the distance.

You’re both ushered toward a secluded corner of the restaurant, away from the bustling dining room. Your breath catches as you take in the scene before you. A small path opens up to a hidden courtyard, bathed in a soft glow of candlelight. Ivy climbs gracefully up the old stonewalls. A table set for two is adorned with empire candles and one single rose.

Frankie’s eyes are on you, a mix of nervousness and pride etched across his face. He’s clearly pleased with your reaction and he chuckles to himself as he takes in the romantic setting his friend arranged just for this moment.

“I hoped you’d like it.” Frankie says, his voice a soft murmur as he pulls out your chair.

“Like it! Frankie, are you serious? This is incredible.”

He smiles at your reaction as he takes his place across from you. The tenderness in his gesture, the thoughtfulness of the setting-it all makes your heart flutter. This isn’t just a date. It’s a memory in the making, and his effort to impress you is overwhelming in the best way possible.

****

“Frankie I have to say the website photos do not do this place justice.”

The laugh that erupts from his chest catches you off guard briefly. “The owner was being cheap-.”

“Cheap!” A familiar voice sounds from behind you as the gorgeous man you recognize from Benny's fight strolls over to your table. His hair is slicked back showing off his perfect bone structure. Slight salt and pepper stubble across his face. Dressed in all black and the first two buttons undone to show off his tan chest.

Frankie stands from the table and embraces the man in a tight hug. He whispers something you don’t quite catch before turning to you with a wide smile.

“Hi, I’m Santiago.” He holds out his hand for you and to your surprise kisses the top of your outstretched hand. “Fish whisked you away before I had a chance to introduce myself the other day.”

“Fish?”

“That is exactly why I whisked her away.” Frankie says through gritted teeth.

Santiago holds his hands up in apology. “Sorry, I mean Francisco.”

The waiter appears with a pitcher of water and pours for the table as Santiago instructs him to bring a bottle of sparkling when he returns with the bread.

“So I hear you’re quite the photographer, I could use your help.”

“Pope.” Frankie eyes him in warning.

You reach across the table and take Frankie’s hand in yours. “It’s fine really.”

Santiago’s eyes on your joined hands and a knowing smirk on his face.

“I would love to take some photos for your website. They really are quite awful.” You say honestly.

“Well I took them myself so…”

You unconsciously grimace and it’s equal parts comical and painful to look at as you palm your face. “I’m so sorry.”

Both men are laughing before you can continue your apology.

“No hard feelings, cariño. I’m a big boy and can take some criticism. This guy on the other hand.” He pats Frankie on the back. “Go easy on him for me.”

A look of gratitude passes between them and Santiago steps back as the waiter reappears.

He claps his hands. “I’ll leave you two love birds to enjoy. I have a very special meal planned for the evening so I hope you’re hungry.”

He turns to leave but not before Frankie speaks.

“Gracias hermano realmente aprecio todo.”

“Para ti cualquier cosa.”

****

The conversation between you and Frankie flowed easily as each course was presented to you. Per Santiago’s instruction the waiter presented each dish to you in great detail.

First Course: Antipasti Deliziosi

The evening begins with an elegant spread of antipasti, served on a polished wooden platter. The colorful assortment included thinly sliced prosciutto, delicate burrata cheese drizzled with balsamic reduction, and an array of marinated olives, artichoke hearts, and sun-dried tomatoes.

Frankie tells you a little about his time in the military with the boys. After a brief explanation that because of some private government contracts they all did very well for themselves after the service. Of course your curiosity was peaked at the thought of Benny and Will owning their own gym and Santiago owning the most popular restaurant in town. Frankie had casually mentioned at your first encounter that he owned a private helicopter business. None of these men came off as self centered or what you would consider avaricious so it was refreshing to see such successful men be so humble.

Albeit very intimidating that you struggled most months to pay your bills and your savings was almost at nothing after a year of being here. You quickly steered the conversation away from that topic which made you uncomfortable because of your previous relationship. You didn’t want to come off as some kind of gold digger.

Second Course: Risotto ai Frutti di Mare

The second course featured a luxurious risotto with a medley of seafood—plump shrimp, tender scallops, and mussels. The creamy, saffron-infused risotto, complemented by a hint of lemon zest. Between forkfuls, Frankie shares anecdotes about his most memorable helicopter flights, while you told him( sparing some of the not so pretty details) of your spontaneous move just a year ago.

He listens intently to you talk about trying to work when you first arrived but it being too overwhelming. You briefly mention therapy and for that he’s grateful he doesn’t have to be ashamed to talk about his struggles after leaving the military. There’s no judgment in your eyes when he talks about those meetings that saved his life.

First date feels inappropriate and a little too heavy to mention ex’s so you both stay far away from that topic.

You don’t mention your sobriety so he doesn’t push.

You talk about finally taking that step and reaching out to Will for the shoot and he can’t help but shake his head on the timing of it all.

Third Course: Filetto di Manzo con Salsa

For the third course, the table is graced with a perfectly cooked filet mignon, its tender surface glazed with butter and rich red tomato purée . Accompanied by truffle mashed potatoes and sautéed asparagus.

You’re beaming when you open up to him about some future projects you want to work on and the need to get back into weddings since those were your favorite.

He may know some people that are seeking you out for just that but he won’t spoil the surprise.

All of the normal first date questions that would usually bore him to death seem to feel different when he’s with you. The way you look in his eyes makes him feel like he’s floating. He’s sure you don’t notice the way you bite your lip when you’re thinking or the way you moan after trying the first bite of each course.

Your knee keeps brushing his under the table but it’s comforting when you don’t pull away.

Dessert: Tiramisu Classico

The evening concludes with a classic tiramisu—layers of espresso-soaked ladyfingers, creamy mascarpone, and a dusting of cocoa powder.

Once the waiter disappears, and since he’s feeling a little bold he takes your fork and a small piece. Holding it out for you as you wrap your still red lips around it and let out the most sinful sound he’s ever heard.

Worth it.

You take his fork and serve up a slightly larger piece and do your best to lean as he meets you halfway. His eyes nearly roll into the back of his head when he takes a bite.

Without thinking you reach across with your finger. “You’ve got.” And swipe the cream from the corner of his lip. Boldly licking the remnants as you watch something flash in his eyes.

“Frankie. I don’t know how you’re gonna top this.”

He watches you take another bite. “Oh I’m sure I can think of a few things.” He finally managed to say after he composed himself. “In fact, if you’re not afraid of heights I definitely have some ideas.”

You sit back and clutch your chest. “Oh I would love to meet Lucy.”

He chuckles as he looks at you and wonders where the hell you’ve been hiding.

****

Santiago of course waited until you were finished to get your opinion and say his goodbyes. Frankie suggested you walk in the small park across from the restaurant. With a little push from Santi, the name he preferred you call him since Santiago was my father as he put it.

It was a short walk to the park.

You and Frankie strolled along the winding path encircling a small pond. The sun was already set but the sky still had those remnants of dusty pink and purple as the last rays bounced off the surface of the water.

You love the way he instinctively takes your hand and he thinks it’s almost too perfect the way it fits in his. Like they had been designed for each other. The both of you walk in a comfortable silence exchanging glances as you stare at his profile and laugh to yourself.

“Something funny hermosa?”

“You never told me about the nickname.” You say matter of factly and he just sighs.

Instinctually rubbing his hands along his jaw as he stops walking and you face him. “It’s better now but. I couldn’t grow a beard to save my life.” You laugh and he crowds your space. “The guys said I had whiskers like a catfish.”

He raises his eyebrows as you hide your smile behind your hand. “I like it.” You say softly as you reach out, grazing your finger over the small spaces still missing some hair. His eyes close for just a moment and he leans into your touch.

He’s so close you can feel his breath fan across your face and it would be so perfect if he just-

“You wouldn’t happen to have Andy in your bag by chance?”

It takes you a moment to register what he’s said instead of kissing you.

“What? I mean yes…um ya I do. Why?” Sounding more flustered than you want as he places his hands on your shoulders and slowly turns you around.

You stifle a gasp as you see a man across the pond getting down on one knee and the camera is out of your bag before you can blink.

You can see the woman as she covers her mouth in shock. Her excited squeals echoing over the water and it couldn’t be a more perfect backdrop.

Frankie’s hands haven’t left you as his thumbs rub circles on your shoulder and he steals peaks of the photos when you take a moment to make sure the shots are just right. Adjusting the zoom on a few and grateful you don’t need the flash with just enough natural light left over.

Frankie watches you work and he’s just in awe of how you can capture the moment so well. You’re quiet and methodical in your approach and the juxtaposition of you moments ago makes his head spin. It’s like when he’s flying and everything else just shuts off around him and he can only focus on the controls and the shifts.

He watches as the couple embraces and for the first time he thinks that’s something he wants. He’d spent so much time with his ex and that thought never once crossed his mind.

“We should head over before they leave so I can show them.” It’s all rushed out in a hurry as you grab his hand and pull him along the path.

He can’t help but laugh at your pure joy as you turn to look at him over your shoulder.

He hangs back a little as you show the couple the photos. Your hands animatedly flailing to match the woman’s as she jumps up and down. The man looks over to him briefly and Frankie flashes him a thumbs up in congratulations. A man not much younger than him and he has his whole life to look forward to with this woman.

****

“Oh my god, she thought he hired me.” Your voice comes out louder than you expected. As he glances over to you in the passenger seat looking through the photos. A small smile tugged at the corner of his lips.

He clears his throat but keeps his eyes on the road. “I love watching you work.”

“It doesn’t feel like work for moments like that.”

“Hmm…ya I know what you mean.”

His free hand resting on your thigh, you don’t think he’s gone the entire night without touching you and you don’t mind at all. He’s so grounding in a way you’ve never experienced before.

The soft glow of the street lights are filtering in through the window as he pulls into your parking lot. That familiar tension is starting to settle into your chest at the thought of saying goodbye or at the prospect of Frankie being disappointed that you’re not quite ready for that next step.

Frankie notices you’ve gone quiet in the seat next to him as he puts the truck in park. “Everything okay hermosa?” Suddenly feeling a little apprehensive.

“Oh ya it’s fine…everything is fine.” He could tell by your tone it was most certainly not and he was starting to wonder if he’d done something to make you uncomfortable.

He turns towards you, his hand resting on the seat next to you now. “I had a really great time tonight.” Frankie says, his voice steady and sincere.

Your cheeks grow hot as you avoid his intense gaze. “Me too. It’s been…really nice.”

There’s a brief pause and you can feel that unspoken question lingering in the air. You’re fidgeting with the hem of your dress trying to gauge his reaction. “So,um, would you like to come up for coffee or something?” You asked, your voice wavering slightly.

Frankie’s expression softened as the realization set in. “You don’t have to invite me up if you’re not ready. I want you to feel comfortable.” He takes your hand again forcing you to meet his deep brown eyes. “Just because we had a great dinner doesn’t mean you owe me anything. Or anyone for that matter.”

You exhale a sigh of relief. “Are you sure? Frankie…I really like you, but it feels too soon.” You turn to look away but he gently grabs your chin.

“Of course I’m sure. We can take things at your pace.”

Your pace

His eyes flit to your lips briefly as he retreats his hand. You stop him and grab his wrist hoping you didn’t send the wrong message. Your heart flutters as he leans in and you meet him halfway. Your lips meet in a tender kiss. You could taste the sweet remnants of dessert and the warmth of his breath. It’s intoxicating as his hands drift to your waist and despite the awkward angle you find yourself impossibly closer to him.

Frankie has never felt like this before. Your hands drift to his hair and a deep growl erupts from his chest and he’s starting to question what your pace is as the kiss starts to get intense. It’s one of those kisses that has him questioning every one that came before you.

You break apart for a second and rest your forehead on his trying to catch your breath. You had to remind yourself for what felt like the hundredth time, that you needed to be patient.

“How about I walk you upstairs? Just to make sure you get there safely.”

All you can manage is a nod. “That would be nice. Thank you.”

You both exited the car in silence. Your fingers brushing occasionally, sending small sparks through you. When you finally make it to your door he turns you to face him. His hands around the back of your neck as he leans in for one more kiss. This one much softer as the last still lingers on your lips.

“Tonight was really special.” His voice full of gratitude.

“Thank you Frankie.” You whisper against his lips, unable to pull away. “I had a great time.”

“Me too.” He says pulling back slightly, but keeping his hands on you. “I’ll call you soon okay?”

If he doesn’t leave now he probably never will.

“Okay.” You laugh breathlessly as you wipe the evidence of lipstick from his face.

You have to let him go or you’ll end up eating your words and inviting him in. He’s backing away slowly as you turn to open your door. You can feel him watching you as you close the door behind you and lean against it, finally letting the breath out of your lungs.

You can feel your phone buzzing in your purse.

Glancing down to see Frankie’s name light up on the screen.

“Have you even left the parking lot?” You hear his heavy breathing and a huff of laughter.

“I told you I'd call you soon.” He teased as the sound of his truck door closing echoes in your ear.

“A man of his word.” You reply as you walk through your apartment stripping yourself of your shoes and untying your dress.

“So…what are you doing?” A hint of mischief in his voice.

“Frankie.”

“I’m just kidding.” He pauses briefly as you hear the truck roar to life wishing you were still sitting passenger. “If you’re free this Friday-“

“I am!” You hold the phone away cursing under your breath for sounding so eager.

“Good, it’s a date.”

You hang up and take in your reflection in the bathroom mirror. Your lips stained a pretty hue of pink now that the red has been kissed off. Your fingers brush them slightly and you know that Francisco Morales has your heart in his hands.

Hopefully for your sake he treats it with care.

Prev/Next

Taglist- @sawymredfox @morallyinept @ak-vintage @romanarose @avastrasposts

@lizzie-cakes @yopossum @sirendyes

Comments and reblogs are much appreciated

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moodymisty · 6 months

Text

Author’s note: This entire idea belongs to @bispecsual , who snapped my ass like Thanos with it at 3am. My eyes might’ve been burning, but I saw the light with this message.

Relationships: unnamed Lamenter/Gn!Reader

Warnings: You could say it’s a lilllll lewd, Blood/vampire kink stuff, Bruising

He looks so large even without his armor. He’s managed to find a moment of time to spend with you now that his round of duty is over, though he had to wake you up to do it. You don’t mind, but you can tell in his face that there’s something gnawing at him.

“You’re hungry,” You suddenly blurt out, looking up at him. He looks at you and his eyebrows raise with surprise, but he doesn’t deny it. He looks away briefly when you offer yourself once again.

“I’ve waited longer, I won’t so soon after the last time.”

You shift under the blankets to look more towards him.

“You don’t have to wait, it’s fine.”

He’s beating himself up in his head, you can tell. Berating his lack of restraint. You know from experience he fights it until he’s right at the edge of the cliff, and only then does he dare to ask. But you feel fine, and helping him is the least you can do. The Lamenters have done so much for you; He’s done so much for you.

“I’m fine. If you need it, take it.”

It seems the battle in his mind only concludes with your gentle insistence, and he moves closer to you. You watch as he slowly crawls onto the bed and his hand presses down by your shoulder. His gaze is intense and you can’t help but look away, exposing your neck at the same time.

He can see the little marks where he bit the last time, on their last few days of healing. As he leans in his hot breath brushes over them, as does his lips. He hesitates for a moment, and you think he might pull away, before he finally sinks his teeth in right below your ear.

The blanket shifts up your bare legs to your hips as your legs kick, landing just below your underwear. His knee presses down between your thighs precariously close to their apex.

His teeth shift in your neck and your fingers tighten on his shoulder from the twinge of pain, but his weight holds your upper body completely still. He doesn’t want you to move even an inch and risk hurting you.

You swear you can hear his hearts, his tongue lapping against your neck and wiping away the tiny beads of blood before he moves to bite again at your collarbone.

It tastes incredible. He’s been starving, his last mission ran him ragged, in his armor for 2 weeks with barely any rest, and your blood is like the finest wine. He’s never tasted wine, but he supposes must taste incredible, as your tone of voice had implied.

His eyes want to close, he wants to get lost in its but he knows he has to stop. It’s still so soon after the last time he bit you, he know he can only take enough to satisfy him for now. So that gnawing can finally get shoved to the back of his mind just for a little while.

You’ve already been so generous, he doesn’t want to wear it out. To take advantage of your rare kindness. He pulls away sees the bruising wounds of your neck, as he glances down at your inner thigh. He sees the fading marks of bites there, where he thought they’d cause you less pain. It caused something else however, and he vows not to do so again unless he can fulfill you afterwards.

He slowly lowers again until his head lays against your chest. Your fingers wrap in the short, messy chop of his hair. Your eyes are closed, but you still talk to him.

“I’m fine,” You whisper, knowing why he’s doing this. The assurance that you’re still alive and well. That he didn’t go too far this time. But sometimes you wonder if he’s becoming unhealthily attached to you. He depends on you in a way oddly enough; With his curse gnawing at him like a never-ending sickness. He’s implied before that his superiors might do something about it if he can’t keep it under control. If this saves him, then you’ll do whatever you can to protect him mentally while he physically protects you.

Because you’re the only thing that cures him; Your blood satiates the hunger and your presence makes him feel alive. The warmth of your skin against his own. The sound of your heartbeat fills him with relief that you’re fine, he didn’t lose himself for a moment.

“How can I repay you for your kindness?” He speaks quietly. You laugh.

“You don’t have to do anything.” He leans close to you and you can feel his nose barely brush against your own.

“I should. There are not many who would willingly give their blood to feed the Red Thirst.” You smile and your hand lands on the scarred skin of his arm.

“I don’t mind, as long as it’s you.”

A brief moment crosses his mind at the idea of another Lamenter biting your neck- of being this close to you. His hand clenches just a bit before he swallows that feeling of rage and leans just that little bit closer to you, pressing his lips to yours.

You lean into him, ignoring the ache in your neck and tasting iron on his lips.

#space marine x reader #warhammer 40k x reader #mywriting

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dustysalmon · 3 months

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Immortan Joe Imagine - Staying by your side after you were injured in battle

The news reaches him as soon as he arrives at the scene, accompanied by his war party.

You are brought back to the Citadel on the Gigahorse, Joe driving like a madman to get you there to treat your injuries.

A room is specifically arranged for you, the Organic Mechanic and his assistants tend to you relentlessly, providing you with all the care necessary.

Joe visits you often, even at the beginning, when you were still unconscious. He visits so often that people have started to notice, and talk, not that he cares. They know better than to start rumors, lest they wish to suffer Joe's bad temper...

Each time he comes to see you, he sits quietly, his eyes fixed on you, his mechanical breath the only sound in the room. He even talks to you sometimes, even though you probably can't hear him (he wants to believe that you can.)

He's the first face you see when you finally regain consciousness. It's always difficult to see the man behind the mask, but you can clearly see relief in those clear blue eyes, and something else you can't quite put your finger on.

When you're in too much pain to speak, he hushes you, and reads to you, his gravelly voice filling the room. Sometimes he would even hum a little tune, oddly soothing, that slowly makes you drift back to sleep. Other times, the two of you simply fall into a comfortable silence.

Weeks turn into months, you are slowly getting better, and Joe keeps visiting as if it was the first day. Part of you hates that he sees you like this, weak, barely a shadow of your past self. But it gives you strength to keep fighting, to get better, so that you can once more stand by his side in battle.

One day, you're surprised to find the Immortan slumped beside your bed, his head bowed, and his large hand gently holding yours. He's fallen asleep, his usually stern features are completely relaxed. You bask in the delicious feeling of being the only one privy to that sight.

His hand is huge compared to yours, so warm, and surprisingly soft. Absently, boldly perhaps, you start tracing the visible lines on his skin, running your thumb over his.

Joe stirs slightly, and his eyes flutter open. He blinks, disoriented, before his eyes focus on you, then on your joined hands... then back on you. You immediately stop stroking his skin. Maybe this was a mistake, what if you overstepped?

What is done is done, you keep your eyes firmly on his, waiting for whatever is next.

The light squeeze of his hand around yours is so gentle that you barely feel it at first. Your lips curl up in a soft smile as you study him, neither of you feeling the need to say anything, letting your actions speak for themselves.

Unfortunately, good things don't last forever and the Organic Mechanic interrupts your little moment, completely oblivious, and drags you off the bed to get to your daily mobility exercises. Joe sits still for a moment, hands clasped together, and completely lost in thought. There's many things he needs to sort out...

#aaaaargh very cheesy I know but-#Joe can read right?#immortan joe #immortan joe imagine #immortan joe x reader #mad max furiosa #mad max: fury road #dusty writes

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celestiamour · 4 months

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‧₊˚✧ ❛[ one victory after a loss ]❜

━━━ .°˖✧ requested by @lokotrona11 ˚₊ ⊹

ft. peter pevensie x gn! reader — prince caspian, the chronicles of narnia

╰₊✧ you return to aslan’s how after peter assumed that you died during the telmarine castle night raid┊1.7k words (prt one)

setting: the telmarine age (prince caspian) contains: hurt/comfort!! established relationship, mentions of death & battle, grieving, peter cries, mentions of anxiety from being king, cuddling

➤ author's note: peter pevensie uee eu ee ueue uuehh ｡°(°.◜ᯅ◝°)°｡ he currently controls my heartbeat eueh uueee uueuuue (థ ﹏ థ)

prehaps it’s a good thing that animals don’t talk anymore since convincing a telmarine horse to switch alliances and help you escape would have taken longer than the actual escape process. the thundering galloping sounds alerted some guards, but you quickly lost them in the thick woods by trusting your steed to guide you around the thicket as it was pitch black and all you could do was steer it in the direction of the camp. even if you were only locked up for six hours and put all of your focus on breaking out, the fresh air was invigorating compared to the musty dungeons and you couldn’t help but close your eyes to enjoy the ride as you arrived at your destination.

peter had long retreated into your shared tent away from the others with dull, weary, and bloodshot eyes from silently shedding tears for most of the night. he felt completely numb aside from the slow streams of saltwater dripping down his face and a stinging sensation every time he tried to blink them away, not even an ice-cold shower was enough to shake him from his thoughts. his siblings have tried to console him that you would come back to them and that he just needed to give you time, but the sun was starting to rise on the horizon and he could only fear for the worst. it would take a miracle for anyone to make it out alive when getting swarmed by enemies, even a skilled swordsman like yourself wouldn’t be able to survive when miraz said that nobody would be spared— not even his own men who unintentionally got in the way.

he couldn’t help but dream of some sort of way to rewrite the sequence of events that unfolded over the past twelve hours, knowing that there was no such magic that could turn back time so simply and that he had to deal with the fact that his plan didn’t play out half as well as he thought it would have. his mind was playing different scenarios of something he could have done to save you, anything that could have been done that would end with you being with him right now and to prevent the suffering of the narnians who also lost someone dear to them.

it was beginning to settle in that the last moment he spent with you was a kiss on the cheek and a comment to be careful, never considering that it would have been possible for one of you to die when invading the castle. he wished that he could at least have told you that he loved you, but instead, you were left to die alone at the hands of the telmarines without anyone to save you. once again, he found himself losing all hope and spiraling back to the mindset that it was all his fault, that he could no longer rule like he used to after abandoning his kingdom a thousand years ago (even if it was an accident). he wasn’t fit to be your lover, much less fit to lead the remaining few—

“they’re back! they’re back! they’re alive, peter!” his head snapped up at the cheerful voice of lucy that interrupted the haze of his grieving, shocked at the unbelievable sight of his youngest sister dragging his lover whom he previously assumed to be dead into his tent. she was always a light sleeper, bolting out of her slumber as soon as she heard the guards allowing you into the camp after confirming that you weren’t an enemy with your unfamiliar stallion. “i’ll give you guys some time alone,” she declared, allowing you to thank her and exiting as you approached your king.

he was such a wreck, a broken man who looked up at you from the edge of the bed as if he wasn’t sure if you were really there or just a hallucination his grief-stricken mind conjured up. you somewhat hoped for him to have more faith in you, but you knew that just the notion of you being gone would have him sick with worry. edmund already told you all about how they spent a year in a world you didn’t know of and how peter’s biggest regret was confessing his affection too late. it must have been such a roller coaster of emotions for him: beginning to court you, unintentionally leaving you behind, coming back excited to see you, believing that you had died thousands of years ago, finding you frozen in time like he never left, thinking you died in battle, and now finding out that you were alive… most of it happened within the span of a week, and he probably wasn’t sure how much of it he could take.

you approached him slowly like he was a wounded animal, reaching out to gently hold his face in your hands and wiping away the new tears resembling crystals forming with the pad of your thumbs. “oh, my dearest king… dry your eyes, you know there’s nothing i hate more than seeing you cry…”

hearing your voice made him crack, wrapping his arms around your torso and pulling you onto his lap to bury his face in your shoulder even though you were still clothed in metal. “thank aslan, you’re safe… i’m not sure what i would have done if you weren’t…” he didn’t care for the discomfort when your mere presence was a luxury for him, and neither did you when he was actively trembling in your arms. he always had a bad habit of repressing his feelings into a bottle until the cork popped off, refusing to show any weakness to his people and just breaking down in private while only showing this side to your or rarely his siblings. these spells have been steadily getting worse as of late, causing him to collapse under the pressure. seeing him like this almost made you selfishly wish that he never returned even if the remnants of narnia became ravaged by the telmarines and you never awoken from your eternal slumber, only if it meant for him to live out his youth carefree without the weight of the crown on his brow.

you parted with him momentarily to remove your armor once he seemed to calm down from the high of emotions, joking that he shouldn’t stare at you so intently while you were changing to ease the mood (even though he didn’t look away from you for even a second, you didn’t mind in the least since it’s not like it was anything he hadn’t seen already. it was almost as if he wanted to keep an eye on you in fear that you would disappear from his sight). it’s been a long night for both of you after all that’s transpired and it was high time you both got some sleep, even if it was for only an hour or two before his presence might be expected by the others. “come on now, you need to get some rest, and i desperately need a shower— i can’t believe you hugged me like that when i reek so badly.”

he finally managed to let a meek smile grace his handsome features, alleviating any remaining anxieties you might have had about him and left to take a quick bath in a nearby stream. there was barely anyone out there aside from a few stragglers getting water for morning routines, greeting you out of courtesy before leaving to give you some privacy. the stream poured over your body soothed your sore muscles and healed the minor cuts littering your skin, relaxing all tension and allowing you to think more clearly even though you were so exhausted you could pass out on the spot. truly, this was a magical land with magical properties flowing throughout every breeze of wind and drop of water.

lucy had told you earlier that while peter was stressing out over your disappearance, everyone else had full confidence that you would be perfectly alright with your set of skills. it’s not that he had no faith in you, he trusts in most who fight along his side and recognize all of their talents whether physical or intellectual, but he can’t help but feel apprehensive regarding you or his siblings. there might not be anything that could ever mitigate his uneasy attitude when it’s been melded into him from an early age, but it’s almost comforting to know that your partner is a good man who cares for his loved ones so much.

once you quickly dried off, changed, and then went back to the tent, you found the blonde still awake waiting for you, “i thought I told you to get some sleep.”

“i was waiting for you.” there was a little playfulness in his voice, like a child who was caught doing something they shouldn’t have knowing that there would be no punishment.

all you could do was sigh affectionately at peter pevensie being peter pevensie again and climb into the bed with him, pushing him down on his back and laying on your side to pull him closer to your chest, ruffling through his blonde locks and kissing his puffy eyes. “close your eyes and sleep, i’ll still be here when you open them again.”

it wasn’t often that he let himself be coddled by you, but he permitted it this time. enveloped in your warmth with the steady thumping of your heart brought him peace, knowing that you were alive, well, and reunited by side. the drowsiness hit him all at once, slipping away to a dreamless sleep in your arms after whispering a quick word of his love for you— a word of love that he was grateful to tell you once more and hoped for millions more to come.

(at some point, edmund came to check up on his brother and found the two of you sleeping soundly, not having the heart to wake either of you up and just letting you guys stay like that well into the morning. his sisters were very pleased to hear that and had a little giggle about the high king’s soft spot for you when you alone could comfort him when no one else could. the other narnians also had their spirits lifted upon seeing their leaders smile again. it was a new day under aslan’s watchful eyes.)

#📜. her works #the chronicles of narnia #the chronicles of narnia x reader #the chronicles of narnia fanfiction #narnia #narnia x reader #narnia fanfiction #peter pevensie #peter pevensie x reader

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fountainpenguin · 27 days

Text

Riddle watches New Wish - Post #30

The Battle of Big Wand

Part 4 of reacting to this episode (spoiler-free)!

I LOVE that we get to see so much of Foop's spindly fingers in this episode. The way he wiggled his fingers was one of my favorite body language quirks back in the OG series. He's the same person...

Uh-oh... Dev's starting to have second thoughts now that people are getting hurt... And Irep doesn't like it...

I think it's REALLY funny that Irep's hair looks blue when he's in good lightning and black when he's in dim lighting. Not sure if that was intentional to mimic both his parents' hair and his old curl, but that's super clever if it was.

/record scratch. "So, you're probably wondering how we got here."

Irep remembering why he prefers working alone.

Fascinated by the choice to portray Irep tucking his hands behind his back. It seems to be his thing while his parents lean into the OG show's style of holding their hands like stubby chicken wings. I've been thinking that this whole episode... I have random memories sticking out to me from OG series; I'm gonna look it up.

- Oh, interesting... He does it in "Playdate" (dressed nice and trying to fool Cosmo and Wanda into believing he's rehabilitated after Abracatraz), "Love Triangle" (flirting with Goldie on the playground), "Timmy's Secret Wish" (bragging about being a lawyer), "Two and a Half Babies" (pretending to be a good boy for his teacher at the end so she'll let him go to summer camp), "Terrible Twosome" (swaying Poof to mess around and pull pranks), and maybe others, but that's enough looking. - I guess it's just his thing! That's cool; I don't think that was a gesture I paid much attention to in the OG, but he's done it a lot in New Wish. I think he's happy he lost his stubby arms.

I'm OBSESSED with Dev's realization that he and Irep aren't business partners if Irep doesn't listen to his feelings as a partner. He's gonna realize he didn't listen to Peri, and he's gonna want him back!! They're gonna work it out! ... Hopefully with a mediator!

I like how Dale went from 0 to 100 in paying attention to his son as soon as he realized Dev was capable of business deals. He's not being comforting, but he's interested in talking business.

Dale is one of the funniest characters I've ever seen in my life. Not necessarily for the things he says, but for the commitment to the bit.

His swagless looks, nonexistent charm, and extreme amounts of oddly specific lemonade trauma have captivated me. I desperately want to look at him and say "Huh?? Who invited THIS guy??"

Hands down favorite part of Dale's design is the enormous puffer jacket he wears despite the fact it's obvious he's still super scrawny. But I also like how his child design ALSO has the exhausted lines under his eyes in "Nectar of the Odds," which I'd just assumed were invented for adult Dale until I took another look. Also, on some bizarre level, I feel like Dale has actually recovered remarkably well for a guy who spent 7 years tormented underground in servitude? Is he generous with his money? No. Does he have friends? No. Is he kind to his son? No. Is he capable of resting between projects or just taking breaks in general? Also no. Can he handle people messing with his schedule? Absolutely not. Is he keeping tabs on his abuser to ensure she doesn't wreck his or his son's life? Nope. But does his hard work bring him happiness? ... I don't know :'D But he's good at getting things done when he sets his mind to it, he can host a killer event, he's heavily implied to have amazing robotics skills, and he has insanely quick turnaround on his marketing plans, so he's got that going for him. -> Dale will look at stuff and say "Is anybody gonna hyperfixate on that?" and not wait for an answer. "Self-made" lemonade boy, my beloved... If we get a huge plot twist that Dale is the creator of the Vicky-themed robot babysitters from the "Channel Chasers" epilogue, would that be nuts or what? Me: Wait, what are all the symptoms of hyperfixation again? Lemme look this up... Me: Me: ... Good to know! (It was all of them. All of them are the symptoms)

The Dale ramble I wrote here got so long that I moved it to its own post. I hope you like my shirtless "Dale bad at being on his honeymoon" doodles <3

I'm glad Dale seems like he's doing okay and that Dev didn't bug him with lemons (or throw him down in the dark pit that swings shut from the top, even though that would've been so easy). I think I was right in that I'm probably making a bigger deal out of his backstory than the show intended, but I think it's hilarious.

I do have a history of going for characters who give me "Okay, but where else can I ever get this character / this dynamic?" energy. He's one heckuva guy. I need to put him in a 'fic and shake him up and down like a snow globe. I desperately want him to find out he accidentally hired his abuser to babysit his kid. I hope it was an accident, because if he's kept her number in his contact list, I'm gonna have a talk with him.

I wish we'd see Dale doing "angry at Hazel" stuff. I'm confused as to what the purpose of it was... Are we not going to touch on that in the finale? Was it just to upset Dev, but not vital enough to follow through with as an actual plot point? hm.

-> ?? I feel like it was a big deal in at least two episodes leading up to this big finale plot, so I'm just... surprised? Hm.

I guess I'm not really bothered because I don't think Dale knows Hazel came to Fairy World or that she'll appear again, and I understand why his attention is diverted, but it'd be fun (for me).

Also, this is our second time being robbed of a Dev-Irep sleepover D:

omfg, Irep ditching Dev for Dale is the funniest thing ever.

oh no.

Alone again...

sdlkfj, Wanda has spent this entire series taking shots at Dev because she thinks he's a bitter bully and she kept saying things to Peri like "Blink twice if you need help getting out of here."

I remember posting years ago about how I like to think Cosmo's really good at reading people (especially when it comes to distracting them, like encouraging Jorgen to "scramble the Fairies" in "Abra-catastrophe" before he can separate them from Timmy).

So... I really enjoy that he senses Wanda's going too far and might lose any chance of Dev helping, and he tries to stop her.

oh no... I like how when Wanda is telling Dev about dying from magical back-up and she uses the example of a fairy feeling queasy and needing to use the bathroom and then they explode...

... because that's how the Grim Reaper told Foop he'd die back in "Man's Worst Friend" ("Oh, this is fun! You're gonna perish on the toilet!"), and I've been thinking about it ever since I saw Peri dying on the floor.

I headcanon them dying young, but not THIS young!! /jk

Wanda, I have good news for you! I'm pretty sure that guy you think is dead isn't dead. Pretty sure I saw him when I took my screenshots of Anti-Fairies taking over Earth and (ironically) the memorial scene at Fairy Con.

Irep when the alarm goes off cracks me up. There's no point in posting the screenshot because he's tiny and blurry, but he's so spooked. His eyes take up his entire face. RIP overly sensitive bat ears and weak bat eyes.

Oooh, Jasmine singing is going to do something. Are the Anti-Fairies going to enjoy it despite other characters thinking she sings poorly?

Yes. lol. I was going to theorize in my 2nd post for this episode about whether Irep is still really affected by music, but I didn't bother because I was like "I can't imagine that would come up."

oh no, he is. Not enthusiastically... but he is. Love that for him. This kid's always loved to dance and play loud music. Never change.

oh no!!! They're exploiting Irep's one true weakness...

Diversity win!! The genderfluid bisexual has a gender-neutral response for nonbinary folks he thinks have bad boy energy!!

sdlfjk, I think Irep just found the person he most wants to godparent for. Ever.

I checked "Certifiable Super Sitter" again just in case I missed a bad boy joke, and I totally forgot Sammy screams "Break Vicky like a 2 x 4!" at the top of his lungs while he mimes snapping her neck. He's so funny. I love him. I wonder if Foop ever told Sammy about his "Scary Godcouple" trauma and if Sammy was extra ruffled about Vicky because of that.

Peri: I don't understand what you see in Sammy. He's so... mild. Irep: Not after I talk to him ❤️

okay, nerd.

......... Did Foop have a crush on Goldie back in "Love Triangle" because she has major femme fatale energy?? Discuss.

omg, just realized the reason why Irep's single eyelash felt so familiar to me is because that's how he looked in "Blue Angel." Absolutely hilarious that when he opts for a feminine disguise, he has fewer eyelashes than usual.

- Poof and Foop had 3 eyelashes per eye when they were young, but Peri's lost those, and Anti-Cosmo doesn't show lashes. Jorgen's New Wish eyes don't either (Jorgen wore mascara in the OG series) and neither do Cosmo's (Cosmo also liked make-up) - I ?? have to assume that means Irep is deliberately going for a more femme, nonbinary, or genderfluid vibe of some kind, which is perfect for me! His gender identity is one of his plot points in the 130 Prompts. - Can't believe all those years ago, I clocked Poof as growing up to be "the one suppressing trauma with candy and soda" and Foop as "the one who plays with gender expression" ... I know it's not stated by canon, but you get me...

??? I like how Anti-Wanda seems to be teaching Anti-Cosmo how to make his eyes look in different directions and he's loving it? Unclear.

I also like how with his accent, it sounds like he's saying "Hazel-y," which is cute. I like how he made the effort to find out her name; that's 100% in-character.

They are doing their best!! (They are not)

I like that when confused, Anti-Cosmo's instinct was to turn to Anti-Wanda for advice. That's new for him considering he used to shake her and scream. I'm glad they worked that out. And I'm glad he's exactly as "extinct by instinct" as he's always been <3

Apparently Irep (or at least Foop) gets the "spelling out unnecessary details" bit of his dialogue from his mom??

Like, monologuing important info is one thing, but in the OG series, Foop elaborates on things for no reason, like Anti-Wanda here. lol.

I was kind of worried about the direction Anti-Wanda's reboot might go. I believe what I said was, "I'd be interested to see her redesigned with new clothes and with a reduction on the "Anti-Wanda's stupid" angle in favor of mirroring Wanda better (owing to how I've always felt she was a hasty design slapped down in Season 2 and then they couldn't go back on it when Wanda's character developed further). Anti-Wanda's hit every mark I was hoping for in a rebooted design for her. She's still Southern and goofy, but she's not being played as stupid... She and Anti-Cosmo are equally silly and equally dumb and messing around <3

sdlkfj, Anti-Cosmo out here like "This isn't my party, so I'm down to follow my wife's suggestion that we slip from the room together."

Okay, other nerd; I'm glad you're excited to be alone with your hot wife as you definitely try to catch a real human running around.

ALSO very in character; man LOVES forgetting what he's doing and wandering around!! That's his thing!!!

Me out here like "Oh yeah, now I remember why I wrote a 'fic where no one looked for the captured Anti-Cosmo for 77k years because his family totally thought he'd gone wandering and dissociated and started a new life... oh no.

#Riddle watches FOP #New Wish spoilers #Dale Dimmadome owner of Dimmadome Global #Dev Dimmadome owner of anguish #The Battle of Big Wand #FAIRIES!#Bat cube and associates #The bat with the hat #The best bat queen #Nerdy blue bat son #Dragonfly parents #Purple hippie dragonfly #Glitter child #screenshots #130 Prompts

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wafflesrock16 · 3 months

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Shakarian Viking/Soulmate AU

Remember how I said this idea wouldn't leave me? I had to write it out. Who else wants Viking berserker Shepard and Anglo-Saxon prince Garrus? Below a the cut.

Shepard watched as Jarl Anderson lowered his torch, setting the brittle branches at the base of the pyre aflame. The scent of pitch and smoke filled her nostrils, the loud crack of timber breaking the stillness of the gathered group of watchers. They stood near enough to feel the heat of the fire on their faces as it consumed the wooden structure, red tongued flames licking at the platform and the shrouded form that lay atop it.

“He’s in Valhalla, now,” she heard Kaidan murmur. “We should all be so lucky to die in glorious battle.”

Shepard frowned. Jenkins had only been raised to the berserkers the year prior. He had never voyaged to the havens. This was to be his first raid along the Widow Sea’s frontier. He had known the risks, as did all who ventured here. Still, his death sat like a heavy stone in the pit of Shepard’s stomach.

At least he didn’t have a soulmate tethered to his spirit. There’s no one feeling hollowed out with inconsolable grief back home. The reasoning did little to staunch her guilt; if anything it only made it worse since it caused her to feel grateful she didn’t have a soulmate, either.

Shepard sighed. She was the berserker commander. Jenkins was her responsibility. She wasn’t a wet nurse, but she ought to have kept an eye on him; at least admonished him to stay out of the trees. The silver-barked forests in this region were deadly. Old enemies with eagle eyes and rapier-like claws favored the cover the thick woods offered.

She turned away from the funerary pyre and the low, solemn chanting that had begun as fire swallowed Jenkins mortal body. Nobody stopped her as she strode away from the conflagration, back toward the longboats. She needed a moment alone with her thoughts without guilt crowding in on her.

The turians know we’re here—they must have spied us well before we made landfall though bleed me if I know how. Shepard found herself walking past where the dragon-headed longships had been pulled up onto the beach, lost in consideration. We outnumber them, though they have the advantage of knowing the terrain. They also have at least one skilled archer among them, even though that’s not who sent Jenkins off to Odin.

No, a turian swordsman had done Jenkins in, and Shepard had returned the favor with her axe. It was small comfort. Humans and turians had battled for the land and wealth along the Citadel’s coast for time immemorial. There was talk of an asari negotiated peace treaty, but so far that’s all it was. Talk. Shepard wagered that nothing would come from those talks in her lifetime. And who knows how long that’ll be if we stay here?

Gravel crunched under her boots in the lengthening shadows of twilight. Shepard rounded a gentle curve in the land and came to stand on a dead tree, facing the North. The wind that whipped her fiery red hair about her face was warmer than back home. Then again, they were a long way from home, now.

She watched the dying light upon the waves, the ocean glittering like crushed diamonds. It would be dark soon. They’d need to make camp and plot their next course. Did they take the river deeper inland, as was the original plan? Or did they double back, take their chances in krogan territory where turians didn’t dare venture.

Against the crash of the breakers, Shepard missed the sound of a bowstring drawing taut. It was something else, some inexplicable tug at her heart, a susurration of unheard whispers in her ear, that caused her to suddenly duck and roll, the hidden knives she kept about her person flying into her hands.

There was a loud thawk, as a barbed arrow embedded itself into the driftwood where she’d been standing.

She flung a knife, gratified to hear the sound of a large body diving to the sand. She charged before the archer could restring his bow, tackling him to the ground with a savage roar.

Eyes bluer than the center of a flame stared up at her from within a silver plated face, painted with the bold cobalt markings of Clan Vakarian. The turian’s crest of horns was cushioned by a clump of dried seaweed, tiny insects furiously buzzing about his head at the invasion.

He flared his mandibles, exposing long, sharp, silver teeth. His jaw dropped as he took in his soon-to-be killer. Shepard sat astride his narrow waist, holding her second knife above his ridged nose, poised to strike.

Something in those burning eyes softened. “You’re beautiful.” The rumbling subharmoinics seemed to embrace her, a vocal hug to reinforce the sincerity of his words.

Shepard sucked in a deep breath. For the first time in years, ridiculously, tears pricked the corners of her eyes. “Shut up!” She shook her head as if to dislodge his words. “I hate you!”

Her hand holding the knife quivered. In the crystalline depths of his alien eyes, she saw herself reflected back, lips pulled back in a vicious snarl, red hair framing her face. The embodiment of a valkyrie and harbinger of death. Except, I don’t want to kill him, she realized.

“I wasn’t trying to hit you,” the turian murmured. “If I had been, you’d already be dead. I hadn’t realized you were . . . you.” He suffused the word with a mix of awe and wonder that left Shepard’s chest feeling tight.

With a cry born as much from confusion as frustration, Shepard rolled off him. She leaped to her feet, kicking a clump of sand. “Leave,” she commanded, wiping at her treacherous eyes.

The turian slowly rose to his degi-grade feet. Sharp claws extended from the open toes of his boots. “What if I want to stay?”

Shepard glared at him. “Why should you stay? After what your clan did to our landing party this morning and us to you, shouldn’t you be regrouping?”

Why in the frozen hells was she crying? What was it about this turian of all people that had her feeling vulnerable as a new babe? She should kill him—he’d be back tonight with more men and slit her throat in her sleep. A small voice she couldn’t name told her that he wouldn’t do that. Not him. Not ever.

“My name is Garrus,” the turian replied instead. “There are those who call me Archangel, but . . . it’s just Garrus, for you.”

Shepard forced herself to look at him. Really look at him. He was tall and lean, as most turians were, and covered in metallic looking plates. He wore a deep blue tabard with the Vakarian family crest stitched out in thread-of-gold across his chest. A brown leather belt with well-made leggings and fine boots completed his attire. Not some common foot soldier or hunter turned mercenary, Shepard mused. Her eyes settled on the longbow laying at Garrus’ feet. It was nearly as tall as he was and looked like it was made of black yew wood. An expensive weapon. One only someone with a high tier could afford.

Shepard’s eyes went wide as she realized who Garrus must be. “You’re the Primarch’s son.”

He dipped his head in acknowledgement, a hand moving to rub the back of his neck. Shepard was no expert on turian expressions but she’d swear Garrus looked embarrassed.

Bright blue eyes met hers. “You seem to know me and my lineage, yet I confess, I have yet to learn your name.”

Shepard hesitated a moment before discarding any notion of subterfuge. What was the point? He could have killed her and hadn’t. She could have killed him and didn’t. Besides all that, she wanted to know him. “Commander Jane Shepard,” she said. “You can call me Shepard.”

Garrus extended his hand in a human gesture of greeting. “A pleasure to meet you, Shepard.”

Shepard slipped her smaller hand into his. It was like being struck by lightning. There was a jolt, a suffusion of warmth flooding her veins, an invisible push in his direction. They collided at the same time, Garrus likewise shoved by an unseen force.

She grasped onto his cowl, feeling like she were trapped in an undertow, liable to be swept away in the exultant rush of emotions, apt to drown in the depths of a feeling humanity blithely called ‘soulmates.’ Her skin tingled and she was hyper aware of Garrus’ proximity; the rough calluses of his three-fingered hands and prick of talons through her tunic where he held her waist. His pupils dilating and eclipsing the blue of his irises while his subvocals stuttered and a deep, percussive purr sundered in his chest.

Shepard exhaled. “Oh.”

Garrus lifted a shaky hand to gently brush away an errant lock of hair. “It is you,” he whispered, reverent. “You feel it too?”

She gazed up at him, feeling more a maiden than seasoned berserker. Her mouth parted to answer—

“Commander!”

Shepard pulled herself free from the whirlpool of Garrus’ presence to peer into the murky distance. “The others are looking for me,” she muttered. How long had she been gone? Sudden fear squeezed her heart as she considered what would happen if Garrus were discovered. She gave him a forceful shove. “They mustn’t see you. Go! Hurry!”

Garrus moved as though in a daze, stooping to retrieve his bow and taking a few tentative steps backward. “I’ll find you,” he swore. “I’ll come back for you, my dea.”

Before Shepard could respond he was sprinting; a glimmer of lancing starlight through the gloam, a shape half-seen on the edge of the forest. We’ll find each other, she promised herself, even as Kaidan and Ashley came into view, helmets donned and axes at hand. What joke of the gods is it that my other half should be an ancestral foe, on ground my kin intend to soak in blue blood?

She turned towards her comrades, trying to shake off the chill that had settled over her like heavy snow with Garrus’ departure. The others would want to know what she’d been doing out here, alone in the dark. “Searching for answers,” she’d tell them. “Considering what to do next.”

She’d omit her blue eyed archer. That whatever came next, Garrus would play a major role. For now, she kept her soulmate sheltered within the confines of her rib cage, a constant companion to her own beating heart.

#garrus vakarian #mass effect #shakarian #femshep #commander shepard #waffles writes #AU #ficlet

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coimbrabertone · 23 days

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Indycar Left Me Pleasantly Surprised, and That Makes me Happy.

The weekend started on a rather negative note for Indycar, with Penske Entertainment CEO, for reasons nobody can quite understand, deciding to pick a fight with Pato O'Ward. Pato, an extremely popular driver hailing from Monterrey, Mexico, has pushed hard for Indycar to race internationally, particularly in Latin America. In response, Mark Miles said that Pato would need to be more popular to make that happen, that he's not as big as Adrian Fernandez was, that he isn't on billboards. Mark Miles finished off on a note that Pato's popularity was growing, but the damage was done.

That, combined with Indycar trying to ease expectations by saying they expected just 15,000 fans per day at the Milwaukee doubleheader, really put me into a pessimistic mood on Saturday morning.

I figured that the race was going to be an easy win for Penske based on how the other short ovals - Iowa and Gateway - have gone. So the best I was expecting was that it would be Scott McLaughlin instead of Will Power or Josef Newgarden.

Then, on top of everything else, we found out that Milwaukee lost its lights at some point since the 2000s, so if the Saturday evening race went too long, we were gonna be at risk of getting called for darkness.

It wasn't looking good.

But then...the race started.

Immediately Santino Ferrucci and especially Conor Daly made audacious passes around the outside, making the uppermost groove work through turns one and two.

Then on the backstretch, it almost turned into a pack racing type deal, where if you had to check up on the backstretch, you immediately lost momentum and you were at risk of getting passed. It was pass or be passed, and that made any start or restart scenario chaotic in the most entertaining way possible.

It was already looking racier than expected, and that was before the two properly old school things kicked in. One: there was actually lapped traffic to contend with, Milwaukee's a short track and there are big speed differentials, so it's not an Iowa type scenario where the backmarkers are as fast as the leaders. And two: the speed differential got bigger because there was actual tyre wear all weekend.

Fresh tyres were worth a second a lap, so we got to see things like drivers pitting early to get massive undercuts, backmarkers on fresh tyres carving through the leaders to get their lap back, and massive closing rates when drivers had a tyre offset in their favor (more on that when we talk about race two).

And to top it all off, we got drama!

Marcus Ericsson and Josef Newgarden, who did battle at the Indianapolis 500 in 2023, came together in turn two. Marcus was trying to send it up the inside of Josef, tried to keep it in the middle groove, and Josef tried to hang it around the outside to get the better exit onto the backstretch. Marcus put a wheel onto the black stuff on the side, spun out, and hit Josef backwards first, knocking the both of them out of the race.

This launched the final phase of the race, with Will Power leading a group of cars from midfield on a longer strategy, whilst Pato O'Ward led the main group on the undercut strategy. Pato pit on lap 186, Power cycled to the lead, but almost as soon as he did, Colton Herta lost a tyre and brought out the caution.

Power and Conor Daly had to pit under caution, Pato cycled to the lead, and the race restarted with a battle into the sunset stint. Pato tried to break away, Power used the strength of his Team Penske car to push through traffic, while Conor Daly used his 'round the outside strategy to make up ground, these three would be the top three.

Power closed in to Pato O'Ward in lapped traffic at one point, but Pato was able to get through and win the Hy-Vee Milwaukee Mile 250 - Race One.

It was the perfect narrative, with Pato O'Ward's popularity being questioned in the morning, to see him come back and win from sixth? With the crowd erupting into cheers as he did so? It was perfect.

Because Pato is popular.

And despite all the negativity, when Indycar hits, it still hits.

Speaking of the crowd, it was also better than expected. Instead of the 15,000 that Penske Entertainment warned about, the ultimate crowd ended up being closer to 20,000.

That being said, with the race starting into the afternoon and getting to just about sunset - I think in the end, we got the race done twenty-five minutes ahead of the darkness call - there was a bit of a question mark over how the Sunday race in the heat of the day would be.

I was worried that the teams would figure out the pit cycle and we'd lose some of that chaos and some of that pace difference.

However, there was nothing to fear, because Sunday's race started out with chaos from the get-go.

First of all, we missed the initial start when championship leader Alex Palou failed to start with some sort of reliability issue. The championship got blown open at the penultimate race with none of us knowing whether or not Chip Ganassi Racing would manage to get him out again. They eventually did, with just a few more hiccups, and we got around to the proper start of the race, when we just got another dose of chaos!

The back of the field failed to bunch up for the start, so Indycar waved off the start. However, with the whole field anticipating a start and a lightboard flashing green even as the starter waved the yellow flag, we saw an incident.

Marcus Armstrong in third checked up and went to the middle, trying to avoid Josef Newgarden in first, but with his teammate Linus Lundqvist in third trying to get the jump, it would up being just the perfect angle for Lundqvist to spear Armstrong into Newgarden, wrecking against the inside wall.

And just like that, Josef Newgarden, the oval master, was out.

And attrition was back in force on Sunday, with Conor Daly, Nolan Siegel, Pato O'Ward, Linus Lundqvist, and Marcus Armstrong all retiring whilst Alex Palou scrapped for whatever points he could twenty-eight laps down.

Back up front, we saw the Penskes of Scott McLaughlin and Will Power jockeying for position whilst the other teams tried to get the jump on them. Alexander Rossi in the sole remaining Arrow McLaren did his best to replicate Pato's win, undercutting virtually every time, but more often than not, it seemed to drop him in heavy traffic, allowing Will Power and Scott McLaughlin to hold onto the lead.

Eventually, Scott got the jump on Will, and then Power blew the championship wide open again by spinning on a restart.

Power was able to continue, but he gave Palou a lifeline.

Meanwhile, Colton Herta and Scott Dixon changed strategies, saving a bit and trying to cut out a pitstop to make the track position play, succeeding and cycled around twelve seconds off the lead.

And Scott McLaughlin was flying, making up multiple seconds a lap, swallowing up Dixon and eventually, taking the lead off of Colton Herta. However, Alexander Rossi stopped later than McLaughlin and head even fresher tyres now, so he was the fastest of them all, having passed Dixon, and now starting work on Colton Herta for second. At the same time, Herta was stabilizing a bit, gaining every once in awhile as Scott struggled with traffic.

We had a race on our hands.

And then Sting Ray Robb brought out the caution, bringing the leaders into pitlane again. Nobody had fresh tyres at this point though, so they switched to whatever tyres they had access to. Here, Alexander Rossi's crew got the jump on Herta, cycling into second.

It was going to be Scott McLaughlin in first, Alexander Rossi second, Colton Herta third, and Scott Dixon fourth.

However, Alexander Rossi spun up the tyres on the start, used up all the life left in his tyres, and lost out on the restart. This bunched up Herta and Dixon, with Scott eventually moving into second, ahead of them both.

It was now going to be a battle of the Kiwi Scotts, and before the race was over, they caught lapped traffic again.

Dixon gained big, but McLaughlin just managed to hold him off.

McLaughlin won for Team Penske, another Penske win on a short oval, but the way it happened...nobody was gonna complain about that.

Two popular winners on two different races, but both were great.

I have to admit, I wasn't expecting Milwaukee to be this good.

As an Indycar fan, after like two straight years of underwhelming news, it feels so good to be pleasantly surprising by the series. It feels so good for a weekend to go better than expected.

And attendance was even better on the second day, at just over 20,000 for a total weekend attendance of right around 40,000. A whole ten thousand better than expected. Life's good.

Elsewhere, tyre pace differences seemed to be the theme of the weekend.

New tyres were king at Darlington with Chase Briscoe and Kyle Busch using them to battle for the win in the closing laps, with Briscoe just managing to pull off the win for the closing Stewart-Haas Racing team. He clinched a playoff spot, at the expense of Chris Buescher and Bubba Wallace who battled hard for the last spot on points, hoping and praying for a repeat winner up front.

At Monza, Charles Leclerc on worn tyres from a one stop just managed to hold off Oscar Piastri on fresh tyres. As much as I was disappointed in McLaren squandering a 1-2, I can't complain about seeing Leclerc win at Monza.

And in MotoGP, Marc Marquez was the only one who could master a tricky repaved MotorLand Aragon circuit, dominating both the sprint and the race. Meanwhile, in the race, we saw championship implications as Alex Marquez slipped wide in the marbles, swerved to rejoin the racing like, and wound up hooking the bike of championship leader Pecco Bagnaia.

This allowed Jorge Martin in second to snatch the championship lead, mere weeks after he lost it to Bagnaia.

Tyre wear makes for great racing, huh?

Shame that, most of the time, tyre manufacturers don't want to see their tyres wearing out and potentially blowing. It makes for a better spectacle, but it doesn't make for as good of a marketing piece for Goodyear...or Michelin...or Firestone...or Pirelli...or whoever your tyre manufacturer of choice is.

#motorsports #racing #indycar #milwaukee #milwaukee mile #pato o'ward #scott mclaughlin #nascar cup #formula 1 #motogp

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getos-widow · 1 year

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All the things that could have been - Geto Suguru x Reader

Pairing: Geto Suguru x Reader

Warnings: angst, like heavy angst, death, violence, no happy ending

a/n: Seriously, I needed a cigarette after this one.

If that treacherous heart residing within your chest were to thump even for a beat faster it would have exploded in your chest. It echoed in your ears as if your body was a hollow trunk filled only with a heart that pumped blood solely for a purpose of loving Geto Suguru. Everything else ached - your limbs were sore and bloody from the battles that you just finished, your chest burned like the whole hell was stuck in there, and your eyes strained from the sheer amount of tears they shed. You heard an explosion coming from the Jujutsu High’s ground and you picked up your pace. A memory flooded your mind, as clear as if it was unfolding right in front of you.

Young Geto Suguru stood under the old wisteria tree lost in his thoughts. Dressed in a traditional five-piece wedding kimono with the Geto family crest embroidered in it he watched the purple bloom with a small smile on his face. He looked so ethereal under the delicate dance of light and shadow that the gentle breeze created while toying with the cascades of fragrant flowers. You held back your tears or joy because you didn’t want to ruin the intricate makeup on your face. The sound of your sandals brought him back from whatever place he was in and he turned to face you. His breath caught in his throat as his eyes widened at the sight before him - the sight of you in your uro-uchikake, a brightly colored robe intricately embroidered in gold and silver threads.

“You look so beautiful, my love”, he walked towards you with a comforting smile on his handsome face and your heart skipped a beat.

As he leaned down to kiss your forehead he heard something rustle behind you and soon after two tiny faces emerged from under your kimono tail.

“Otosan, we want a kiss too!" Mimiko and Nanako cried in unison.

Geto laughed loudly before picking them up.

Please, God, let him be alive.

The stench of curses and blood enveloped your senses and you almost threw up as you reached the gates of the place you once considered home. Everything came to a halt as you stopped and concentrated on his cursed energy. It was weak, but it was still present. Oh God, it was still present.

Once again you started running towards the place where you knew he would be, almost tripping over pieces of wall and broken wood structure.

"Suguru!" you screamed as you saw his wobbling form walking down the shadowy alley.

His head snapped in your direction.

“What are you doing here? I told you to retreat if things go south!" He tried to sound stern but it came out as a raspy breath.

“What have they done to you, my love?" You ran to him with shameless tears pouring down your cheeks.

You inspected a gaping wound on a place where his right hand once was and winced at the sight.

“It is alright, darling. I’m okay”, his tone softened as he looked at your face and slumped against the wall.

“We need to get you to our hideout. I need to start working on you before you lose too much blood”, you wiped your eyes but the tears just wouldn’t stop pouring.

“I’m not coming this time”, he smiled softly and cupped your face with his remaining hand.

“What are you talking about Suguru? Of course you are coming. I’m not going to let you leave me again. I can’t live without you”, you sobbed at his touch.

“You will be alright. You are such a strong woman, my love. I have always admired your strength and resilience”, his thumb circled on your cheek wiping away tears and dirt.

“I don’t want to be strong Suguru. I want to be with you. I want to spend my life with you”, you snapped your head away from his touch and started pouring your cursed energy into his wound in an attempt to stop the blood from gushing out of it.

He didn’t say a word. He just smiled that damned smile of his and closed his eyes sighing contently.

“I will heal you and we will go away from this place and these stupid sorcerers. We will start a new life in Europe. Imagine darling: just you and I roaming through all of Europe, kissing in Paris, making love in Berlin, renewing our wedding vows in Florence. We will get to admire art and nature and life. We won’t care what happens to sorcerers or monkeys or anyone for that matter. I love you”, you babbled while healing his shoulder.

“Darling, Satoru is here”, his voice barely a whisper.

You froze, your hands falling to your side.

It’s over now.

Geto Suguru was not an easy man to love. In fact, to everyone else, he was a monster, a wretched excuse of a human being, but to you, he was just Suguru - a man who placed soft kisses on your head almost every night for nearly ten years, a man who danced with you to the sound of various foreign music you loved so much, a man with whom you parented two adopted girls, a man who killed men just because they looked at you the wrong way, a man who never ceased to tell you how much he loved you. Yet, he was also a man from whose clothes you washed off the blood of countless innocent people, a man who believed he was better just because he was born a sorcerer, a man who wanted to destroy the world as you knew it and build a new one according to his twisted fantasies. You stopped trying to change him a long time ago and started loving him for a duality that he carried around.

Embracing the inevitable, you simply sat on Suguru’s lap and wrapped your arms around his neck. His strong arm encircled your waist bringing him closer to you as he talked to Satoru. You paid them no attention as you inhaled Suguru’s scent, for what you knew would be the last time, as you listened to his steady heartbeat. He smelled like that perfume you gifted him with. You smiled finally coming to peace with your destiny. That didn’t stop you from imagining the life you could have lived with the love of your life.

In Naples, Italy, you sat on the floor of a small terrace in a white silk dress while cutting strawberries for a cheesecake with a large kitchen knife. Strawberry juice splashed all over the pretty dress, but you didn't care. Then Suguru appeared next to you and took your juice-covered hand. He slowly put a finger in his mouth and sucked the juice, looking at you with lust-glazed eyes. The knife fell into your lap, destroying the sensitive material forever. He smiled saying that he would buy you a new one.

Somewhere in Provence, France, you took off your sandals and walked into the house with a bouquet of lavender in one hand, and groceries in the other. You call out Suguru’s name with worry written all over your face after the scent of lavender was overpowered by the smell of something burning. He poked his head out of the kitchen with a guilty smile on his face and an almost charred chicken in his hands. He said that he wanted to surprise you with lunch, but that he didn't quite succeed.

In Switzerland, in Morcote, you argue about who will go outside to get wood for the fireplace, knowing full well that both of you hate snow. Maybe it's not because of the snow, but because of the fact that neither of you wanted to look away from Lake Lugano, whose water was being swirled and thrown in all directions by the snowstorm.

There was no death, no sorrow in any of those lives. There was only you, Geto Suguru, and eternal happiness - the one that you never get bored of, the one that fills you up again and again, the one that contradicts human nature.

Suguru’s grip on your waist tightened before he whispered in your ear,

“I love you and I will love you for all of the eternity”

Those were the last words you heard before Satoru grabbed you and threw you down the alley. Everything went black as you fell into numbing unconsciousness.

Satoru walked towards your lying form after he did the most difficult task of his life. As he neared you he felt something extraordinary - your cursed energy was mixing with a new one that he had never felt before. It was the most perfect mix of yours and Suguru’s. He sighed heavily as he placed his hand on your belly. Tears filled Gojo Satoru’s eyes as he, as well, thought of lives that were never going to be lived.

“One day we will meet, little one”, he got up and walked away, the saddest smile engraved on his face.

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decks-writing-blog · 2 months

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Gordon Swap Chapter Three: Mirrored

First Chapter

Previous Chapter

Time was of the essence. There was little of it to spare when every minute that passed was another that the current disaster was allowed to continue, undoubtedly resulting in more death. At the same time though, preparedness was the thing that had reduced Gordon’s death count the most. So he moved fast, checking every room and breaking any boxes that looked like they might have something useful in them.

Blessedly only a few rooms after having settled back into this pattern of movement they walked into the aftermath of a battle. Who won didn’t matter because it meant the room was littered with dead aliens and more importantly, dead military. Guns of various sorts, ammo, grenades, and ooh, more trip mines and C4, Gordon gathered it all. He was armed and armored again at last.

Halfway through he was brought to a pause by a melodic tone, not immediately recognizable as any instrument he knew of. Straightening from the corpse he’d just finished looting, he looked for its source. … His guard companion was looking down at the bodies that been been brutalized particularly badly. A string of colourful light came from his mouth as did the sound. Seemingly anyway, it wasn’t the kind of sound a human should be able to make but the colorful lights orbs also shouldn’t be of human origin.

As the note ended, the light ceased flowing – confirming both were from him – and he looked up at Gordon. Did he expect a response? Gordon would’ve loved to ask him what that was and how he’d done it but had no easy way to communicate with him. It was cool though, whatever it was, so Gordon lifted a hand to give him a quick thumbs up before turning his attention to back to looting.

A beat of silence before the guard spoke. “You lost you’re voice, huh? From screaming too loud. Real dumb thing to do. Shouldn’t have screamed so loud, dummy.” Poor guy was still delusional. Though maybe that was for the best if it kept him from going catatonic instead. “Bet you regret that. Not being able to talk must suck real hard.”

It didn’t suck at all actually. Inconvenient at times, sure, but mostly it was a fine way of being. But if there was any way to help the poor guy, Gordon didn’t know how. So he didn’t even bother to look up as he continued his resource gathering.

Once he had everything he could carry of all that was available, he exited, trusting his companion to follow as he’d been doing. This time he fell in step with Gordon. “How long this no voice thing going to last?”

Even if Gordon’s hands weren’t clinging to his newly acquired shotgun, he wouldn’t have bothered with an answer. He didn’t have time to try to figure out how to convey to this guy that he was having a stress-induced delusion of some sort.

“I mean, your hand grew back real fast so why isn’t your voice healing fast too? Doesn’t make sense.”

Gordon kept walking. They had to be near the end of this lab soon. Perhaps he should leave this guy here. It seemed fairly safe.

“You not being able to talk is boring.”

The company was nice though. Gordon had been alone for most of this journey so far with only the occasional companion guided to a hopefully safe spot. So he’d let this guy follow him for a little while longer. He could reset if he had to so he didn’t have to stress too much about preventing anything.

“You’re not even making faces at me anymore. It’s like talking to a wall. … We should go back and find the others. All the way back to the beginning, sounds fun, huh?”

Ah, he had other friends. Or had, they might be dead too. For his sake, hopefully not, Gordon wasn’t going to hold his breath though. He could reset to try to save them but had no idea where or when they might’ve died.

The guard stayed silent for a while, clearly waiting for some kind of response. When he didn’t get one, he dropped back to resume trailing along at his own inconsistent speed once more.

If only Gordon could reset to before the Resonance Cascade. That would save everyone, the only way to do so. He’d already tried though, twice. Presumably it was the cause of his power and thus he couldn’t go back to before it. So with nothing else to do, he just kept going forward.

Up ahead around the next bend the familiar crackle of portals opening was followed by shouts and gunfire. More of the military. Gordon slowed as he reached that corner. Popping the helmet up, he pressed himself to the wall and peeked around.

Ah, the tram platform. The opposite side was where many of the aliens had teleported in. On this side, were the military. They were firing at each other, bullets and lightening streaks ripping across the divide. Good. They’d kill each other and then Gordon would…

The guard had slowed with him but now started around the bend as if unconcerned about the possibility of death. Or maybe his delusion extended into not recognizing this situation as dangerous. Which it was didn’t matter, Gordon grabbed his elbow and pulled him back.

He let out a small sound of surprise. “Hey man, what the…”

Pressing him against the wall, Gordon pressed his other hand over his mouth, cutting him off. Instead of struggling as would’ve been expected, he stuck his tongue out, slipping it between Gordon’s fingers. It looked almost purple in the dim light of hall and was certainly quite long to snake all the way across his palm and between his fingers like that. If it was meant to gross Gordon out into removing his hand, it failed; he couldn’t feel it through the HEV suit’s glove.

He held him there for the few seconds it took for the sounds of violence around the bend to cease. Letting go, Gordon lifted a finger to his lips – the one not covered in the guard’s spit – in a request for silence.

“Why we being sneaky all of the sudden?” He at least had the decency to whisper.

Ignoring him, Gordon peeked back around the corner. … The military side had won, leaving a handful of their number still alive. Pulling back, he crouched down to sit up a trip wire, placed so it shouldn’t be visible until rounding the corner at which point it should be too late to stop running to avoid it. Careful of it, he drew his revolver and leaned back around the corner.

One of the military goons was turned his way and seemed to be heading to guard this direction. He opened his mouth but before he could get a word out, Gordon shot him in the head. Yes! Bullseye! His aim was getting better.

Not waiting for the body to finish dropping to the floor, Gordon jerked back. Hooking his companion by the elbow – he no longer entirely trusted the guy to be keep himself safe – Gordon quickly backpedaled away from the trip mine, angling himself so that he was in front of the guard. They were just barely clear of its blast radius when the military squad rounded the corner and ran right into it, setting it off with a deafening explosion. One goon round the corner a bit late, skidding to a hall at the sight and sound of his companions’ death. Still ready with the revolver, Gordon shot him in the head. He crumpled to the floor, dead.

Other than the ringing in Gordon’s ears silence settled on the gory scene. He stood waiting to see if anyone else would arrive around the corner. … Seemingly his trap had got all of them though.

“Wow,” his companion said, seemingly unbothered by how close he’d just been to an explosion. “You got good at killing stuff.”

It was either get good at killing the military goons or continue to die to them over and over again until he lost whatever was left of his sanity. Even if he’d had a way to convey that thought, he probably wouldn’t have as who could possibly believe that time reset when he died? It sounded like utter nonsense. So he only shrugged his shoulders before unhooking his arm from his companion – perhaps he should try to get his name – before walking forward to look for anything useful among the goons’ remains.

More ammo which was nice. Around the bend, they had had some med-kits that allowed him to top off the suit’s reserve medical gel. He handed one to his companion as well as he’d might’ve been inflicted with hearing damage from the explosion. And maybe it might help with his shock or whatever it was making him act strange.

Not accepting it, he stared at Gordon. “You steal that?” Clearly whatever was wrong with him was affecting his priorities.

Gordon didn’t have time to deal with it, not that he even knew how to. So instead he pressed the med-kit against the guard’s vest and let go, expecting him to catch it. He didn’t, instead letting it fall to the floor in front of him. Whatever. If he didn’t think he needed it, Gordon wasn’t going to make him.

He turned away and started for the tram’s computer system. Even if taking it wasn’t an option, he should be able to figure out where he was and more important where to go to get to the Lambda Lab.

“Off to steal more stuff, huh? Can’t um, can’t let you do that.” The guard followed. He tried to step in front of Gordon before he could reach the tram’s office. A quick left-right juke got Gordon past though.

Inside, the computer was already on, depicting the map of the tram system, spanning almost the whole facility. It was wrong. … Or no, not wrong but mirrored. Not the writing but everything else was. What an odd glitch. Perhaps it was a prank that someone had been trying to pull before hell broke loose. Whatever. It still told Gordon where he was and thus where he had to go in order to reach the Lambda Lab.

As he turned to exit, the guard was blocking his way again. “You’re not supposed to be in here without your passport.” Wow, poor guy must be really going through it to have lost his place in reality so thoroughly.

Gordon patted him tenderly on the shoulder before pushing past him with as little force as he could.

“Hey man, you can’t do that. At least say something, huh? Your voice has got be better by now, right? What the hell man?”

Gordon would have to find somewhere safe to leave this befuddled fellow sometime soon probably. As nice as more permanent company would be it just wasn’t safe with him. The military wanted him specifically after all, and maybe it was just his imagination but the aliens had been appearing right next to him more and more until recently. Whether or not that pattern would resume, if it was even real, remained to be seen. But regardless he wasn’t running away from the danger but instead towards trying to fix it. Having to watch out for his pal who barely even knew what was happening as well as keeping himself alive was a tall order even with his reset ability. For now though, as long as the guy wanted to keep following, Gordon would let him.

***

Barney moved fast. Which made sense, perfectly logical in fact. The faster they moved the sooner they could get out or at least not be so out in the open. But being knocked unconscious didn’t count as sleep, it kind of felt like the opposite actually. Gordon was weary in mind and body, going fast was the last thing he wanted to do.

He wasn’t going to complain… yet. Eventually he would but if he made too much of nuisance of himself Barney might abandon him too. He’d be justified in doing so, wouldn’t he? Gordon would be little to no help in keeping either of them alive. In fact he’d be an active burden. And he’d already been betrayed and abandoned once so what if…

“Yo, clone-Gordon,” Barney said as he stepped into one of the lab. “Looks like some military guys died in here.”

Gordon of course followed him into the room if for no other reason than to stop walking for a little bit. “And that’s relevant to me, why?”

“Guns. Specifically handguns because you only have the one hand.” Barney took one such gun off the nearest corpse. A small pistol but when it came to firearms, size didn’t really matter that much.

“It’s my left though and I’m not left-handed so not exactly helpful. I wouldn’t be able to hit anything.” He’d once had the thought of training himself to be ambidextrous but had only practiced writing with his left hand a grand total of twice before giving up. If only he’d kept with it.

Holding the pistol by the barrel, Barney offered it to him anyway. “Better than just a crowbar though. And if you’re up against a human, all you might need to do is point it and pretend like you can use it and they might back off.”

With a sigh, Gordon took it. It felt weird and wrong in his hand. Though really it was odd that a gun had ever felt natural hold.

“Practice with it a bit, there’s plenty of ammo in this room.”

Gordon couldn’t exactly pretend that arming himself was a bad idea even if it was much harder now. Especially since he’d just been thinking about how much dead weight he was to Barney. So as Barney moved aside, he awkwardly popped up the HEV suit’s helmet to act as ear protection before aiming at the alien corpse in the corner.

He took his time on the shot, lining it up with the head. It was close enough that he would’ve trusted himself to hit if it were his right hand. Before he could hesitate too long he pulled the trigger. … The head didn’t explode – not that they actually did that when shot by normal pistols anyway, movies lied. Instead the bullet went way to the left and too far up. Worse than the first time he’d ever shot a gun.

“You were kinda close… maybe,” Barney said. “I don’t really know what you were aiming for though.”

“The head.”

“Ooh, yeah, uh… I’ve seen worse. Keep trying while I loot the rest of them.” He lightly patted Gordon on the shoulder before moving on to do so.

With nothing else to do, Gordon obeyed. By the time the clip was empty his hand hurt from the recoil but he had hit the corpse in the chest. It would take a lot longer to really get the hang of aiming with his left hand but it was possible. A new problem presented itself though… “I can’t reload it.”

Barney returned to his side to take it from him and reload it for him. “Lucky you got me then. Hopefully you won’t need to use it too often anyway. It’s mostly a just in case thing, you know? Anyway, I’m done here so let’s go.” He handed the gun back. “We should be nearing the end of the lab and then we can get a read on where we are and should go next.”

“Do you think we could walk a bit slower? I’m uh…” He gestured vaguely with his stump. A valid excuse to be exhausted, right?

“Oh uh, yeah, of course.” True to his word, he went a bit slower as he lead the way back out into the hall. Which allowed Gordon to easily fall into pace with him. Which he apparently took as an invitation to chat. “So… you sure you don’t know anything about my buddy Gordon?

“I’m sure.”

Barney nodded as if he’d expected that answer. “I’m sure he’s probably all right. Maybe we’ll even run into him eventually and then we can ask him if he knows he’s been cloned.”

Gordon still didn’t want to believe that but he also still couldn’t come up with anything that would prove even to just himself he wasn’t a clone. But if they were talking about people they knew though… “You know a guy name Benrey? He’s a security guard in the uh… lab I work in. Or at least, he pretends to be one.” The other guard present hadn’t been bothered by Benrey’s presence but maybe he’d been in on the prank.

“Uh, nope. Odd name though. It short for something?”

“Maybe, I don’t know, didn’t ask him.” He’d been a bit too distracted by how annoyed he’d been with Benrey most of the time he’d been around for to even think to ask such a question. “What about Dr. Bubby, you know him?”

“Is there really someone named Dr. … Bubby? No problem if that’s really the guy’s name or whatever, lots of folk got weird names but… Bubby, really?”

“That’s what he said his name was when I asked. What about Tommy uh… actually I don’t think I know his last name.”

“My pal Gordon used to have a cat name Tommie but don’t think I ever knew a person called that.”

Gordon really shouldn’t have expected anything different. Big facility and all. But it would’ve been nice if Barney knew them to make it easier to complain to him about how weird his prior companions were. Though Gordon might fit in with their weirdness more than he’d thought since he was apparently maybe a clone. Speaking of clones though… “What about a Dr. Coomer?”

“Ah! Him I do know. Or I guess ‘know’ isn’t the right word. I heard of him. He’s one of the guys who were involved in that other cloning thing I told you about earlier. I remember ‘cause he’s got a funny name. Some of the uh… other guards used to make some not polite jokes about it. Not me of course. I would never.”

As far as Gordon could tell Barney was telling the truth but what the hell did he knew about reading people? There were more important things to worry about right now anyway. “You mean the clone thing that you said failed?”

“Yep.”

“Well uh… it didn’t fail then. I was traveling with him before this happened,” he indicated his stump, “and we kept running into his clones. He had to kill them because… actually I don’t know why, he just said he had to kill them so I figured he probably had a good reason.” And if clones had a good reason to be killed then their betrayal definitely made sense. Maybe they hadn’t suspected he was one at first so they stuck with him for a while and then felt too bad to kill him themselves once they found out so tried to get the military to do it. But joke’s on them, Gordon was still alive and mostly intact.

Barney shrugged. “Maybe, I don’t know. They were certainly supposed to be dangerous so killing them if they got out makes sense. I’d heard the guy died to his clones though and after that they got violent towards everyone and had to be put down. But, you know, like most of what anyone hears about what goes on ‘round here, that’s just a rumor. Who knows how much if any of it is actually true, huh?”

“Yeah.” Gordon had certainly heard some weird rumors about stuff that went on around other parts of the facility before. Very little of it was actually allowed to be talked about and thus only of rumors and hearsay went around whenever something big happened. In hindsight maybe he should’ve paid more attention and gotten out of here before such a disaster could occur. It had basically been inevitable with how much fucked up shit supposedly happened in the building, right?

They walked in silence for a while after that. Blessed, sweet silence of people who knew how to shut the fuck up because things were serious. … Except it didn’t feel particularity blessed. After so much chatter for so long, it felt wrong. The weight of the facility seemed to hang heavier over Gordon’s head without the distraction of his prior companions’ antics. He wasn’t going to be the one who talked endlessly though. Doing so would not only make him a hypocrite but also a nuisance.

Eventually, finally, noise came from up ahead, around a bend. Gunfire and shouting. Damn it. More military just what they needed.

By the time they reached it, silence had returned. Clutching his shotgun, Barney peeked around the corner. He pulled back after a few seconds. “Aliens killed a squad of military guys. You stay here, I’ll take them out.”

“Uh… yeah, good idea,” Gordon whispered back even though Barney was already moving again. He sounded like he knew what he was doing though so Gordon was more than happy to stay here and not try to help. Losing a hand, especially one’s dominant hand, was a perfectly valid excuse to do so, right? He’d just get in the way if he tried. No need to feel bad or like a coward or whatever.

More gunfire came from around the corner as well as some alien lightening sounds. Soon after it had that stopped, Barney poked his head back around the corner. “Got ‘em. And we found our way to a tram station. Obviously they don’t work but their computer should have a map of the facility so we can maybe find a way out of here.”

“Uh… great. Let’s go.” He followed Barney around the bend, quickly finding himself in what was indeed a tram station littered with corpses.

The office was on the other side so they had to lower the bridge over the gap, using a lever. Its gears ground against against each other and whirred loudly the whole way down but if anything or anyone heard they didn’t come to investigate. The silence had an ominous vibe after it finally settled but Gordon ignored it as he followed Barney across.

In the office, the computer was already on. Barney stepped to one side of the monitor so Gordon could see it too. On screen was a map of the tram system, spanning almost the entire facility. It was wrong though. … Or no, not wrong. … “It’s mirrored.”

Barney looked up at him. “Huh?”

“The map. It’s mirrored. Like, not the words but everything else is.”

“Uh… the stress must be getting to you pal ‘cause nothing’s odd about the map. Don’t worry, it’s quite the situation we got here so it makes sense, to be a bit out of it.”

“I swear to god if you’re pulling some shit to mess with me I’m gonna… I don’t know. Nothing, I’m gonna do nothing because I can’t do anything. They cut off my fucking hand so I’m useless now. It’s mirrored. The map is mirrored. Don’t lie and say it’s not.”

Barney stared at him in shocked silence for several seconds before turning his attention back on the computer. “Whatever you say pal. The map’s mirrored. I know where we are though. Not too, too far from the old lab with that machine I told you about. It malfunctioned once but it seemed to work just fine for everyone else who used it. So it might be worth it to head down that way and see if we can’t try again. I know you’re a clone but you’re still a scientist, right? So do you thing you might be able to figure out how it works? Enough to operate it anyway.”

Snapping at him had been a mistake. He’d been the most normal person Gordon had interacted with since arriving at work – which, coupled with everything else he’d gone through was why he’d been so ready to snap but that didn’t make it okay. Assuming he’d actually arrived at all. Maybe he thought the map was flipped because he was a clone with nothing but implanted memories and that one had gotten flipped somehow. Or maybe he was just going crazy. Heck, maybe he was dead and this was hell or perhaps purgatory. Before figuring any of that nonsense out though came not dying so…

“Yeah, I’m a scientist. I could probably figure it out.” He put more confidence in his voice than he actually felt. It would depend a lot on what kind of machine it was. But to make up for being rude, he should make himself useful. Plus if it could indeed get them the hell out of here, it’d be worth it to at least try. Let the others continue the journey to the Lambda Lab to fix this, not that he trusted them to be able to. Or heck, didn’t Barney say that that was what the Gordon Freeman he knew intended to do? So it wasn’t something Gordon had to concern himself with anymore… even if it did feel cowardly to just run away especially after he’s the one who caused it. What else could he do though? They’d cut off his hand!

“Great. Let’s go.” Transgression apparently forgotten for now, Barney turned and marched out. Gordon followed. He was apparently the annoying sometimes rude follower now.

Next Chapter

#hlvrai #half life #hlvrai gordon #gordon freeman #benrey #barney calhoun

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demontonic · 1 year

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Anakin Skywalker - Old Friends

AOTC Anakin x fem reader

angst & fluff

Word Count: 1648

There he was walking beside Obi-Wan, he was skilled, nice, dedicated, clumsy, quiet, shy when he wasnt in a match. His light hair shimmered in the sunlight coming through the giant windows of the corridor, his tanned honey skin glowing as it always did. His figure was slim, tall, the very definition of lanky but he was fast and agile. The brown robes he wore only complimented his earth toned aura, the bright smile he always had was a sight for sore eyes. You’d known him since you were younglings, immediately taking interest when he first arrived. Over the years of course you’d distanced yourself, Master Windu could be quite strict and he was very cautious when it came to your relationship with the chosen one. Even now as he walked opposite of you in this hallway, your breathing became faint as you tried your hardest to avoid his gaze but-

“Excuse me master- Y/N, I havent spoken to you in ages I-“

“Anakin, well we have been training closely with our respected masters, I can see Obi-Wan has been doing a fine job. I hear nothing but good news for you, I shouldn’t expect anything else from the chosen one should I?” You were formal, something you and Anakin had never been with each other even in front of your masters. Obi-Wan seemed to be put off by your tone, walking a distance away and pretending to fidget with his commlink.

“I suppose so, how have you been since you’ve already heard of our missions.” His voice was quiet, softer than before like he lost the excitement he once held.

“I’m expected to become a knight soon, Master Windu has been testing me with more difficult missions… I hope it pays off.” Your voice trailed off towards the end, it felt wrong to speak to him like this, you’d long closed yourself off from his force connections. This interaction only drove a deeper stake between you two, it broke your heart but it hurt him tenfold. His head dropped, his eyes falling to the tiles beneath his feet.

“I’m sure it will.” With that he walked away, returning to his master’s side without sparring a second glance. You stood there, watching as they disappeared around the corner before the weight of reality fell onto your shoulders. The breath you seemed to be holding was released in a hushed sob, your hand covering your mouth swiftly. Being cold towards the only real friend you had, the only man you’d loved. Nothing could’ve began to fill the void that began to eat away at your very soul. Some nights, before you’d begun your distance, you’d feel each other’s force signatures. Each time either of you reached out it was warm, comfort, safe, because you’d done it a connection was formed. You could feel when he was too stressed, or in trouble, frightened, even sad. That was when you’d reach out, trying to console him. If he was in battle you’d be tense as he fought, too worried about his safety like he couldn’t hold his own. You missed it, yearned for it, but you knew it was for the better, for both of you. Attachments were forbidden and of all people he was the chosen one, he was to bring balance to the force and you wouldn’t live with yourself if he left the order for you.

𖥔 ݁ ˖.𖥔 ݁ ˖.𖥔 ݁ ˖.𖥔☽◯☾𖥔 ݁ ˖.𖥔 ݁ ˖.𖥔 ݁ ˖.𖥔

A month later you’d been in a match, you tried making peace and taking down the wall you put up. Though it might’ve been useless since you’re sure he had no intention of trying to talk with you after the last interaction. You were getting the upper hand, which is why you couldn’t understand why you felt such rage, and fear. You gone for a strike but you stopped, dropping your saber and falling to the floor. A pain in your arm, so sharp it felt like it’d been cut clean off. You began hyperventilating thinking the padawan you were up against had accidentally severed your arm in the midst of the match. Next thing you knew you were waking up in a meditation room, laying down on the plush floor in the pitch black. At first you thought you were alone but you should’ve known better.

“What was that?” Windu asked sternly, he’d anticipated your answer hoping it wouldn’t be the one he feared. He’d done all that he could do to stop it, Windu had assumed it was long snuffed out.

“What are you speaking of mast-“

“Was it Anakin?”

“The padawan- he must’ve grazed my arm he-“

“You came out unscathed, the padawan on the other hand was a little roughed up. So tell me the truth, has your connection with the chosen one opened again?” You froze, your fingers running over your left arm lightly feeling the soft untouched skin. It was then you’d realized there was no way of getting out of this.

“Master Windu I promise-“

“Anakin and Obi-Wan came in a while after you had that melt down. Anakin happened to return with a missing limb, his left arm to be exact. Luckily he had it replaced with a cybernetic arm and no further damage was retained.” You’d sat up in a panic, breath picking up once more at the news being relayed to you. He’d never been hurt so badly before, he was too good, too quick, how could you let this happen?

“I had no idea that would happen, I’d made sure it was closed off. I’ve been avoiding talking to him, training with him Master you have to believe-“

“I do, Y/N the force works with purpose, it connects all living things which is why we can feel when there is a major loss. I will not tell the council about this because there must be some reason you two are tied so closely.” You finally stood to your feet, too panicked to even try to reach him. You straighten your robes, and grabbed your cloak before looking to your master. He heaved a heavy sigh before nodding, getting into a relaxed position to resume meditating. You on the other hand ran towards the medical ward letting the force guide you to your blonde boy. Coming to a stop your breath slowed, you pulled a curtain back seeing Anakin surrounded by droids adjusting his robotic arm. His body visibly tensed as you stood there just taking in his presence trying to think of something to say.

“Ana-“

“I know you stopped blocking me out… I lnew the second I felt you again. At first I thought maybe it was because you were dreaming about me, but when it never closed off again I knew you did it purposely.” Blue tired eyes bored into your soul, your eyes brimmed with tears at his words. You stepped further into the confined space, closing the curtain behind you before sitting next to him.

“I never wanted to shut you out Ani, master Windu demanded it. After all you being the chosen one, what would we have done if they wanted us out of the order for forming an attachment. When we talked in the corridor that one day I need you to know I felt horrible, I just wanted to ensure our futures as Jedi Knights.” Your voice was faint, it sounded drained and defeated but he just watched you with the softest eyes. He’d known you better than even your master did, Anakin knew you were being entirely truthful.

“Saving the galaxy is meaningless if it means I’d have to live a lifetime without you. Y/N you mean more to me than you could ever know, the day you closed me out you took my heart with you.” His words were true, but you had been set on him falling for senator Amidala. You wanted to swoon, to fall deep into his baby blue eyes and never come up for air. However you are a jealous being, sour at the fact Amidala had been touchy with him. You wouldn’t have known if it weren’t for you tapping into his thoughts every so often when he went on this last mission.

“Why are you thinking about Padame?”

“Why were you thinking about Padame?”

“Are you jealous? Of the senator?”

“I’d thought I was dreaming but I was watching everything happen, in the arena. She was so close to you.” Your cheeks were red, burning with embarrassment and jealousy as you crossed your arms over your chest. Normally you would never admit to feeling this way, especially since your relationship had always been defined as an attachment and nothing more. Truthfully you had no right feeling so territorial over him, but he was your blondie. Padame was nice, personally you had nothing against her, the values she shared were the same as yours. Anakin however is where you drew the line, which she had crossed even if unintentionally.

“So you are jealous, all this time you’ve been the one to stay away from me and now look at you. I don’t want Amidala, she was a target, a job, a mission, nothing more my love.” He stood, the droids returning to their respective stations. Anakin took a few seconds to move his new hand in the way he wanted to. Now he pulled your arms from your chest, holding them gently as he leaned in close.

“Love?”

“My love, you are the only person I could ever want, the only thing in the universe I’d ever ask for. Accept my words for truth darling, feel the honesty in my soul you know I can’t lie to you.” He placed your hands flat against his chest, you felt his heart beat steadily. Most of all you sensed no malice in his force signature, it was the same warm, gentle, comforting feeling, it was home.

Okay this was supposed to be short but i got waaay too into it i mean honestly forbidden love is so awesome i dont CARE! i hope you liked it! heres my masterlist if you wanna check that out!

#anakin x y/n #anakin x you #anakin imagine #anakin skywalker #anakin needs a hug #padawan anakin #anakin x reader #anakin fluff #star wars anakin #anakin #star wars fanfiction

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madhatterbri · 4 days

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Warning | Hangman A.P. Part 5

Summary: Hangman continues to spiral much to Y/N's dismay.

Author's Note: Lots of catching up to do so we are skipping a little. I'm looking forward to Jeff vs. Hangman. Although Hangman could be going to the DMV and I'd be lit. ��

Hangman Masterlist

Part 1 2 3 4

Taglist: @magicalbuttertarts @smallestsnarkestgirl

Y/N's breath caught in her throat the moment Hangman laid his hands on Karen Jarrett. His descent into madness seemed to have no end. The crazed look in his eyes was one that she had seen plenty of times. Another victim of his hatred, she feared.

Evil Uno also happened to become a victim. The once friend of Hangman told him that he was involved in the Casino Gauntlet match at All In. Like so many before him, Evil Uno was attacked by an irate Hangman and a chair. The Cowboy wasn't done there. He even dragged his suitcase over his body.

When Swerve battled Bryan Danielson, Hangman made sure to intervene. The Young Bucks were one step ahead and ensured to have security on hand. Y/N hoped an ending would come soon in the feud.

During an episode of Dynamite, Swerve had enough. He challenged Hangman to a steel cage match at All Out. A contract signing was supposed to happen the following week. The contract signing never happened.

Hangman found Swerve's childhood home. Y/N watched in horror along with everyone else as he burned it to the ground. The fan favorite cowboy sat in front of the house, taking a swig of his favorite drink. With his hands tied, Tony changed the match at All Out to a lights-out match. The match was nothing like she had ever seen before.

They brutalized each other for minutes. Everything was used during the match from chairs to staple guns and even cinder blocks. Finally, a needle to Swerve's mouth and one final chair shot sealed the match. Hangman was the winner. His past year of misery finally seemed to be over. She had never been so wrong.

With his rival out of the way, he now felt empty. Long out of his mind, he vowed to go after everyone that ever supported or protected Swerve Strickland. He wasted little time.

He shoved a staff member to the ground after his interview with Renee. The realization of the friends he lost started to hit him. Top Flight shook their head in disgust at him. Dark Order shared the same sentiment. They claimed not to know him anymore.

Finally, he ran into Jeff Jarrett. The man had been a thorn in his side around the time Hangman came back from his suspension. The third generation wrestler tried to talk some sense into him. It didn't work.

Hangman sucker punched the old man. Fist after fist connected to the old man's back. When he noticed a stack of chairs, Adam threw him on them. Security finally helped by restraining Hangman. Top Flight and Dark Order rushed to assist, but the damage was done.

The next week, they booked an interview between Hangman and Tony Schiavone. Y/N could see the look on Hangman's face. He appeared irritated. A caged animal that was now forced to perform in front of a live animal.

"He's irritated. Do you have security ready?" Y/N asked her bosses.

Matthew rolled his eyes. "Don't be dramatic like him. He's just having another one of his creative depressive episodes. He'll tire himself out of the tantrum and go back to normal. Why don't you get us a coffee?"

She rolled her eyes yet did as the older Jackson brother requested. Y/N listened out during the interview. The anger in him was still so evident. She left catering quickly to watch the screens with the Jacksons. They complained about the coffee yet drank it anyway. The way he turned to Tony. An innocent man who was just doing his job.

"He's going to attack Tony. He's going to attack Schiavone," she gasped. Her hand was placed over her mouth in shock. The commentator was always nice to her. He always told her to keep her head up.

Hangman cornered Tony in the ring. A sigh of relief passed the Jacksons and Y/N when Jeff Jarrett's music played. When Jeff made it to the ring, Adam started to club him in the back. The attack happened for several seconds before security stepped in. The chaos ended with Jeff promising to kick the cowboy's ass.

Y/N stomped around looking for Hangman backstage. This time, he had gone too far. Tony didn't do anything wrong. He was just doing his job. She found him pacing in a hallway. Typical.

"Hangman! Hangman!" She yelled. He ignored her and paced. Y/N grabbed his arm and made him turn around. His crazed expression mildly softened. "Tony? Really? What the hell is wrong with you?"

"He supported him. The man that went after my family. He deserved it,"

"Deserved it? You won. Swerve is gone. It's over. You are just attacking innocent people," she insisted.

"You don't understand," he scoffed and walked away.

"No, I don't. I don't understand how the man I once loved is acting like a petulant child and throwing tantrums everywhere,"

Hangman stopped in his tracks. A wave of realization washed over him. She was on Swerve's side. All this time for the past year. Y/N never supported him. She was pretending to get his weaknesses.

"You were on his side the entire time," he accused loudly. Adam pointed a finger at her. Her mouth dropped in shock. She wasn't sure how he could ever say such a thing. He stormed towards her. Her heart raced in her chest. Memories of their past flashed in her mind. Memories of what happened between him and Karen at All In.

She backed up until running into someone. Y/N turned to see Dark Uno, John Silver, and Alex Reynolds. Hangman stopped in his tracks. The three men stared at him as if challenging him to come closer. Hangman growled in frustration. He threw a chair to the wall and stormed off.

#fanfiction #aew fanfiction #hangman adam page #hangman adam page fanfiction #hangman adam page fanfic #hangman adam page x reader #hangman adam page x y/n

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thesheelfsworld · 2 years

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My Sun Prince

Warning: None, this is pure fluff

Pairing: Fili Durin x reader

Summary: Fili always looked beautiful, but when the light grazed him, he would glow.

Author's Note: I was definitely inspired by one of @rucow 's drawings, and I hope this gives you the same soft vibes as her drawing gave me. Make sure to check out their art, it'll give you all the feels 🥰

As always, English is not my first language, so please be nice and enjoy!✨

Reclaiming the mountain had been no easy feat, but three years after the battle, things had finally begun to settle.

In a few weeks' time, the annual Durin’s Day ball will be held and the party preparations were already in full swing.

As a member of The Company of Thorin Oakenshield, my presence in the festivities was not only expected but required. All 15 of us had our own tradition of gathering outside on the balcony to drink and smoke together and remember how blessed we were to make it out alive, all of us. Even when there was a moment there when it did not seem like it.

Thorin, Fili, and Kili had been gravely hurt in battle, and when the eagles brought back all three Durins unconscious, the relief of having survived turned sour. Oin could not tell us with certainty if they were going to make it. Their wounds were too severe. That is when the elves’ help came led by a distressed Tauriel, who stood by Kili’s side the entire time. I could have not been more thankful to the elven healers who swiftly got to work and contain their bleeding wounds.

The three days after the battle were spent pacing restlessly from one side of the infirmary to the other as I helped the healers in whichever way I could. Did they need more gauze? I was on it. More clean rags? I would fetch them. Anything to be useful, but still be close to our wounded. More than once, my feet would take me to the side of the infirmary where my friends rested. Oin had explained that Thorin’s wound was the biggest one, Kili’s wound had luckily spared his spine, but Fili had been wounded in several different places. He had been injured where Azog’s sword had slain him, but the drop afterward had broken both his legs and arm, fractured some ribs, and dislocated a shoulder. All these injuries caused internal bleeding, which they were able to clear, but they were still not sure if he would make it. And if he did, his recovery would be a lengthy and difficult one. Hearing this, I felt devastated. My heart plummeted and tears soon filled my eyes.

After a few days, Oin’s initial diagnosis improved. All three Durins were responding positively to their treatments, although they remained unconscious for the most part.

Once I was done with my duties for the day, I picked up the habit of looking after the trio, cleaning them slightly, and making sure they were comfortable. I liked talking to them as well, telling them everything that was going on inside the mountain. When I was done, I would usually sit next to Fili and hold his hand. During our travels, I found myself smitten with this dwarf. He was always kind and easy to talk to, and such a fine warrior as well. We worked well together and I genuinely liked fighting alongside him. But the road is no place for romance, and the stakes of the quest were too high. I could not afford to be distracted by my feelings, because those distractions could have cost me my own life or somebody else’s. And yet, with the object of my desires laying upon that bed, unmoving and pale, I could not agree with my previous reasoning. I should have said something, anything. I was so afraid of losing him, of never hearing him speak again, or seeing him fool around with his brother, his eyes alight with mischief and mirth.

Getting caught up in my musings, I lost track of time and was not sure how long I had been sitting there. The place was dimly lit by the light of the candles, the light rays of sunlight no longer bathing the hall. It must have been night already, surely dinner would be ready in a few. However, I did not wish to leave just yet, I wanted to stay with Fee a while longer.

Each time I looked at him, a lump would form in my throat. He was so beautiful. The light of the fire would always dance in between the strands of his hair, making them glow and his mustache was neatly braided and resting against his lips, which although pale and chapped, looked as inviting as ever. How I wished I could see them curl into one of his charming grins.

A sob left my throat before I could stop it.

“Mahal, please spare them. Bring them back, bring him…” my voice was barely above a whisper. My prayers were meant for no ears but for those of the Maker.

And answer my prayers, he did.

With a lot of effort, patience, and time, all three dwarfs made it out of unconsciousness and through their recovery successfully. And still, I had yet to confess my feelings to a certain prince.

At the moment, however, I had my hands full trying to escape the ever-watchful eye of a certain princess who was set on making me try every dress in existence for the ball. Each dress bigger and stuffier than the last. Do not mistake me, I have gotten along with Dis from the moment I met her. We bonded pretty quickly not only over the stupidity of her kin for splitting up on that mountain, but over our worry for them. But now, I could not run faster to get away from her.

I had duties to attend to, duties which she canceled in order to try even more dresses than we did the day before, and the day before that one.

Looking back over my shoulder to make sure she had not spotted me, I did not see where I was going and ran into a very strong chest.

“Oh, I am so sorry! I did not see-”

The words caught in my throat when I looked into the eyes that accompanied such a sturdy chest.

“Oh, hi Fee, how are you?” I tried to sound nonchalant, though I could feel myself blushing.

However, Fili’s expression showed nothing but amusement, and his soft smile fully lessened my embarrasment.

“I am alright, just got out of a meeting. You, on the other hand, seem like you are being chased after, are you okay?” He could not contain his chuckle as he asked me if I needed help.

“I am being chased, actually, by your mother. Please help me,” I pleaded with my best puppy eyes and grabbed the lapels of his coat, “she is making me try all these truly dreadful dresses again, and I can not take it anymore.”

This dwarf really dared to burst out laughing and never had a scowl form so quickly on my face.

“Yes yes, laugh it up! But next time you are getting scolded for a prank gone wrong, I will not hide you, just wait and see,” and I turned to leave.

Fili quickly sobered up and grabbed my arm, “There is no need to go there. I am sorry for laughing, it’s just good to be on the other side of her fussing for once, that’s all.”

“Yes, well, it is my first time on this side and it is getting a bit much.”

“I understand, and as a prince, I feel it is my duty to save a damsel in distress. So, if you please” he extended his arm to me “I will hide you from dreadful dress fittings and fusing mothers”

“My hero!” playing along, I sighted dreamily and leaned on his shoulder, a hand resting against my forehead as I pretended to faint. Fili’s laughter echoed on the walls of the hall and we sped away to the gates of the mountain.

Arm in arm, we made our way to the edge of the forest that surrounded Erebor.

“You have no idea how long it has been since I have come out for some fresh air,” I commented.

“Me too. Uncle has been keeping me very busy these past few weeks”

“So I have noticed. Kili too has been missing a lot lately, but when I do catch sight of him, he is following after Tauriel. It is actually very cute,” a slight smile grazes my face to hide the feeling of longing that loomed in my heart.

“Yes, he has also been very busy, but still makes time to see her. I probably should have done the same, I’ve missed you”

At that, my eyebrows shot up so high, I was confident they could have met my hairline. I looked at him and found him sitting next to me but staring at the ground. Regaining my senses and taking advantage of this moment of vulnerability, I took a moment to look at him properly. It had been some time since we had had any time together, just the two of us, and I wanted to enjoy it. The golden light of the sun setting in the west took me back to that night in the infirmary when he had been fighting for his life. If I thought then that he was beautiful, now, with the sun kissing his skin and his eyes wide open and full of life, he was ethereal. Absolutely breathless, I tried to answer him, say anything to keep the conversation going, but nothing came out.

I opened and closed my mouth a few times until Fili turned his entire body to face me.

“What is it? Do I have something in my face?” he jested.

And I could not help but giggle because yes, he did have something on his face, absolute beauty.

Fili’s eyes opened wide and his cheeks turned a deep crimson red. Perhaps his skin was getting too sensitive to the sun after being underground for so long, I thought.

“You really think I am beautiful?”

I frowned, how did he …? Oh god, how embarrassing to have said that out loud, but then again, he didn’t look put out. Far from it, he looked happy.

“Yes,” all the air left my body with that only word.

“Yes, I do,” I said, this time with more confidence.

Fili beamed at me. A bright light that seemed to be coming from his very soul out through his eyes and smile blinded me, and I was sure that with him by my side, no dark days would ever come again.

“I think you are very beautiful as well”

His reply made me smile, and the words I have been wanting to say for months -years were now demanding to get out.

“I feel the deepest kind of love for you, Fili, and I do not know how to hide it anymore.”

“Then don’t,” his eyes became glossy and he took both of my hands in his. “Do not hide it, give it to me instead, and I will give you mine.”

Tears spilled from the corners of my eyes. My heart soared with the knowledge that my affections were returned.

“Do you truly feel this way?”

“Yes, amralime. I have loved you for as long as I have known you. I loved you after every battle and during our hardest days.” Both of his hands came up to cradle my face and joined our foreheads together. With eyes closed, he continued, “I loved you when you were the first thing I saw after the battle and I loved you when you stood by my side during my recovery. And with each day that passes, I love you even more.”

My hands grabbed the back of his neck and pushed him to me. Our lips met and all I could focus on was Fili. How he tasted, how he felt, how soft his hair was and how well his hands fitted on my body.

Warmth filled my entire being, not from the sun, but from the golden prince who was finally in my arms.

#fili durin #fili x reader #fili x oc #fili has my heart #thorin oakenshield #the hobbit #tolkien #dwarf #thorin's company #middle earth #lotr #jrr tolkien #hobbit #the hobbit trilogy #bilbo baggins #botfa

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wrenanigans · 11 days

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SAW A SKYRIM POST YOU REBLOGGED. SKYRIM FAN???

YES! New skyrim fan! I finally started playing the game 12 years after its release and I am HOOKED! I’m gonna use this ask as an excuse to ramble so uh, long post beware xD

Okay so my first ever run has been the most chaotic shit. I just finished the main questline, but it was a JOURNEY to get there.

I’ve been playing with my gf @bucca2 who introduced me to the game. The first thing she did, as soon as we got out of the tutorial (and got mods working, including multiplayer), was take me to a little farm up north to meet somebody. “You liked Kefka, I think you’ll like this one,” she said. Cryptic and concerning! And I found this wagon and met Cicero.

To quote Aby, “Yeah, honestly, it was like taking a kid to Disneyland for the first time. There was this quiet wonder in his voice like he was discovering magic was real...honestly, I wish I had been recording. It was very adorable. He was hooked from Cicero's first voice line.”

Dude, when I say “blorbo at first sight” I mean I was down bad in an instant. I was writing fanfic based on that interaction alone (with some helpful hints from Aby). I had dreams about the bastard on night one. I got obsessed.

That feral enthusiasm did not wane as the game went on, because I went straight for the Dark Brotherhood questline. I was the Listener before I had even spoken with the Greybeards. I even updated a mod from an old Skyrim edition myself so I could marry Cicero. I was all about that wretched little fool and it was making a fool of me.

With Cicero as my first companion, I went onto the Thieves’ Guild quests next. Did you know that you can fail the tutorial pickpocketing quest? Because that’s what I did! They recruited me anyway. I got up to the Sepulcher quest, but never finished it, so I just have the skeleton key xD

When we assassinated the vampire in the DB questline, I got infected, and decided “eh, why not!” So I became a vampire. This made the inheritance of Bloodchill Manor extra fun — I simply sat back and watched the bloodbath! I only had to lift a finger when the Dawnguard came knocking xD

I went to the Bards’ College next. We’d “acquired” an expansion mod for it (do not get me started on other modders who charge for their shit. i have strong 🏴‍☠️ opinions) so that was a fun extra questline.

Up next was some Daedric prince shenaniganry. I got the Ebony Blade and did some light murderizing to buff it, then met Sanguine for some debauchery. My stealth archer build got even more broken when I stopped by to pick up Barbas from Clavicus Vile. Immortal dog to tank for me? Yes please!

Then I did the Dawnguard questline! I accidentally-on-purpose cheesed the pilgrimage to go fill the ewer. I got so lost in the Vale that I found the palace treasure room when I was only on shrine two. Seeing Serana shove the snow elf bastard off the cliff was fun, though I did miss the loot…

After that, I decided it was time for some warmongering, and signed up for the Imperial Legion. Which was a little awkward, considering I’d assassinated the Emperor already, but what they don’t know can’t hurt me! I had great fun in the battles where I simply perched up high and picked Stormcloaks off, like some sort of nefarious gargoyle. Also, General Tullius? would. He also saved my ass when I got lost in the Whiterun battle and found by 7 or so Stormcloaks, and he tanked while I shot them down. Sometimes the game’s mechanics make for great story :P

Finally, it was time for the mainline quest. I tolerated Delphine until she was no longer useful, at which point I turned to Parthurnax for guidance. Being told to go on a grand quest to find the Elder Scroll I already had was pretty entertaining, especially considering I’d done the same thing with the dragonstone from the first dungeon (which I’d gone to early to retrieve the golden claw). It was also funny as hell when I tried to talk my way into heaven and the only faction dialogue choices I had where the two that the dude didn’t like xD

After that, I went, “well now what? …probably lunch.” So I went and munched on somebody, as a vampiric treat. That’s where I last left my playthrough! I’ve had an absolute blast with the game, even if I am playing it ass-backwards. I may go do the Dragonborn DLC content next. If you have any recommendations for more shit to get up to, I’d love to hear it! Especially if it involves murder xD

#wren’s searchables #skyrim #cicero

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probssomethingorother · 1 year

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🚨 NEW CHAPTER! 🚨

I said I was going to turn this out and I did! Whoop whoop. Unfortunately, I have done barely any review on it so good luck folks. Will go back and make fixes soon. Feel free to call out anything glaring/jarring. @eedsknees gave me the idea to include (SPOILER) some nightmare content, so they are lowkey responsible for jump starting the writing process on this one.

Back & Forth: a the last of us fic

post-episode 8 Silver Lake hurt/comfort

Ellie & Joel, both riding the struggle bus, canon compliant

Rating: Mature for dark themes, nothing more than the show

It was Joel who stumbled first. He had felt the strength seeping out of him with every step so viscerally it was like his body was a container with a slow leak. His gate would falter and his hand would slip further down her shoulder, power waning. He would cough in his throat and blink forcefully trying to reignite the spark of energy that had carried him to Ellie just hours ago, but it was all a losing battle. And eventually, he lost it. It was Ellie who moved first after that.

chp 1 | chp 2 | chp 3 | chp 4 | chp 5 | chp 6 | chp 7 | chp 8 / chp 8 |

chp 9 !!! YAY !!

read on Ao3 with the link above or below the cut, and remember comment where you can! <3

Chapter 9: (warning not proof read, will do that in the AM)

A lifetime ago, he was warned that raising a teenager - a teen girl at that - was going to be one of the hardest things he was going to live through. Joel had just started into the moody teenage years with Sarah before he lost her, they had their small arguments here and there, but really hadn’t quite hit that point where she was talking back, slamming doors, walking away, or giving him the silent treatment. Still, he had done all the mental preparation for the day his teenage girl would suddenly start putting him to the test, but he never thought in a million years that the teenage girl doing it was not going to be his Sarah. No, it was Ellie.

Ellie, who had gone from pouting in silence on the couch to fitfully falling back asleep. From his spot a few feet away, Joel had first thought she was muttering under her breath, talking through something and trying to vent her frustrations, but then he noticed the way her body rose and sank rhythmically. Still turned away from him, he couldn’t see her face to confirm, but after countless nights of looking over her while he took watch, he knew her breathing patterns like a parent knowing their child’s distinct cries.

She was asleep, and deeply; unfortunately, it just wasn’t peacefully.

For a long few minutes, Joel waited in the wingback chair, knee bouncing as he debated how long to let the restlessness go on before intervening. Hunched over with his arms on his knees, he wrung out his hands as he watched each one of her breaths and acutely listened in for what was slipping from her mouth, even turning his head so his good ear pointed more in her direction.

Over the months together he had seen her have a few occasionally, but he had never woken her, and eventually, she did always settle. But now, this just felt different. She had been struggling in her waking hours, it seemed cruel to also let her suffer in her sleep.

“I’m not…don’t,” she softly muttered. The words were more distinct than much of the rest that had been coming from her, and the sense of desperation behind them was painfully evident.

Sighing, Joel stood up with a groan and silently moved closer to her. The blankets were still tightly wrapped around her, constricting her movements to small twitches of her body, clearly unable to manage anything more against the weighty fabric. Her hair splayed across the cushion and fell down her back, which just made Joel realize it now was fully out of its normal ponytail, elastic lost somewhere - maybe forever. In the soft light of the fire, her hair looked almost golden. However, it also meant its tangles and mats were highlighted, strands clumped and bunched in weird spots.

“No….stop…no,” Ellie cried out again, still a soft and breathy slew of words, her body twitching again before settling.

For a moment, it actually looked like she might be calming for good, heavy breaths petering out for a second; so Joel hesitated before making any further moves, hand lingering just above her shoulder. From above, he could now see more of her face. It was contorted with a tightness, brows pushed together and jaw clenched. It looked like she was trying to turn it more into the cushion, hide it away from something, but she could only push in so much into the fabric without smothering herself - even her unconscious body seemed to know that.

Wherever she was, or whatever she was seeing, in her head, couldn’t be anything good.

Suddenly, Ellie’s breathing hitched, a whimper escaping her lips, her eyes fluttering beneath her lids as she relived whatever terror she was experiencing. “Please…,” she whispered.

The sounds tore at Joel's heart.

Enough was enough.

Taking a deep breath, he gently placed a hand on her shoulder, trying to shake her awake, “Hey…hey, Ellie. Wake up,” he murmured, voice thick with concern.

But his soft murmurs only seemed to increase her unease. Her breathing grew more rapid, each exhale punctuated by a soft whimper of distress.

"Ellie.." Joel tried again, placing more pressure on her shoulder to tip her onto her back. Her body complied, and she was now supine, but that also only seemed to make things worse for her. The whimpers started to get caught in her throat, her face screwing up like she was about to cry.

"Kiddo, time to wake up," Joel said, a little more sternly as he brought a gentle hand to the top of her head in a small gesture of comfort. It was an old instinct, something he used to do for Sarah when she was too afraid to sleep- gently caressing the top of her head, brushing back her beautiful curls to lull her down. (He later learned she should be in a bonnet when she slept, hair tucked away, but oh well).

He brushed back some of Ellie’s hair too, trying not to get distracted by how utterly dirty it was, bits sticking together by something, making it feel almost crunchy.

“Ple….don’t….that’s…you’re hurting mmm….”

She sounded like she was talking to someone now, and just being in proximity to it made Joel riddled with guilt as if he was the one it was directed at. With another soft sigh, Joel’s hand trailed down her head, past her shoulder, and onto her arm, giving it a squeeze. The move was a bad choice.

Ellie's body immediately jerked away from him, eyes shooting open in terror, as her arm flung out in a wild, blind attempt to get the touch off her.

Her hand connected solidly with the most vulnerable part of Joel- her loose fist hitting his barely stitched-together stab wound, dead center.

Ellie’s hand was tiny, but even so, it fucking hurt so bad. Time seemed to freeze, the sheer intensity of the pain anchoring Joel in agonizing stillness before the sensation hit him in full, like a tidal wave. He saw stars, the bright flecks dancing in front of his eyes as every nerve in his body screamed in agony. It felt like a thousand needles were being driven into his side, radiating outwards in a hot, searing wave of pinpricks that washed through his body from head to toe.

He stumbled back with an unstable step, knocking into the edge of the coffee table before trying to catch himself, only for his legs to do the opposite and give out beneath him. He crumpled to the floor with a deep pained groan, voice ragged and raw, landing with a thump.

For a very long moment, the world seemed distant, muffled, as if he was underwater as he sat still on the floor, hands not even able to clutch at the spot, just ghosting above it. For that same very long moment, Ellie’s eyes stayed fixed wide, now with a different form of terror as she came to terms with what she had just done. Both rattled by the sudden change of events, everything became eerily still between them as the room turned scarily quiet.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, played on repeat in Ellie’s head, until finally she was was scrambling to sit up, blankets tangling around her, restricting her movements. With a frustrated groan, she yanked and kicked them away, tossing them angrily aside as she popped off the couch, desperate to check on Joel.

She almost tripped and fell down too, feet getting caught up in the pile of discarded fabric on the floor. The stumble became a somewhat coordinated descent, and she dropped to her knees at his side.

”Oh God, Fuck, fuck, Joel?,” Ellie stammered, her voice laden with guilt. She knelt anxiously beside him, hands hovering, unsure of where to touch, or how to help. His eyes were squinted, brow furrowed, beads of sweat already forming on his forehead. He looked as he did when she first put him on that dingy mattress in the basement, just constipated with pain. It made her want to vomit knowing she was now the one to cause it this time.

Still filled with lingering anxiety from her nightmares, Ellie’s body was cracking under all the emotion, tears pricking at her waterline. She fluttered her eyes quickly, trying to get it to stop, but the longer she stared down at Joel the more she felt the tears threaten to spill over.

“Joel? Dude..what- tell me what I can do,” she stumbled out desperately.

Joel could barely register her voice much less what she was saying. A ringing in his ears was now taking over making everything just seem a bit staticky. His eyes wandered around the ceiling for a second before screwing shut, trying to stave off an incoming wave of dizziness.

He couldn’t understand why it hurt so bad, why a hit less than a punch had literally knocked him on his ass.

God fuck if she was able to do this, how was he going to defend them against anything if something did happen?

He groaned then, but from the thought of his inability not the pain. The pain was on a level that far surpassed groans.

“Okay..okay just,” Ellie began, taking his shaky hovering hands and moving them away, “let me look. I’m sorry.. sorry.. sorry,” she finished, biting at her lip as she slowly tried to raise his shirt to see the damage she had caused.

But Joel wasn’t going to let her feel bad for this. Certainly wasn’t going to allow her to make it her responsibility to fix him again. Absolutely not.

Despite the waves of pain that threatened to overwhelm him, Joel managed to open his eyes. Through the haze, he saw Ellie's panicked face, her deep brown eyes wide with fear.

She had barely gotten his shirt up, it sticking to him with dried blood. "S'okay," he rasped, bringing a hand up to push down the fabric and stop her before she could get much further. "Don’t," slipped out, although he had been going for “don’t worry.”

Ellie stopped moving, but didn’t release the grip on his shirt, worried now that anything she would do would just make it worse. “I- okay - just what - how? What do you need?”

Realizing his poor attempt at speaking before had only made her more anxious, Joel didn’t rush into replying this time. He took a long breath in and out, controlled through his mouth. It made his stomach produce a deep pain when his diaphragm filled and released the air, chest cavity rising and deflating. He pushed his head further back into the cold ground, trying to focus on a different sort of feeling than something beside his side.

“Just gimme…a second.” He pushed out, words complete and mostly steady this time.

Ellie bit her lip, regret evident in her eyes. Releasing his shirt, and with a deep exhale she sat back on her heels, giving Joel space but still close enough to assist him if he needed.

She couldn’t believe she had fucking hurt him. He was still fucking fragile and she really could have done some damage - she knew it. It wasn’t like she had given him world-class first aid in the first place.

“Did I get your stitches?” She asked with apprehension. They were probably so fucked.

“Ellie.” Her name reverberated through the sparsely furnished room, the sound trailing out shakily from a Joel. He might as well have just said, “shut up,” because somehow that’s what it sounded like to Ellie’s ears.

Silence started and dragged on then for several moments as they both waited for Joel’s pain began to recede, neither moving much at all. Every so often there was a small sniffle as Ellie tried to bite back tears.

Joel's voice, rough and filled with exhaustion, broke the monotony.

“Already feeling better,” he offered, after the third sniffle. Ellie had been trying to hide being on the brink of crying, but there wasn’t much space between them for things to be going unheard.

With a roll of her eyes and a huff, she wiped at them with the back of her hands.

“I don’t even know why I’m crying…I’m not a fricken crybaby,” she mumbled, clearly frustrated with herself. Joel hummed in agreement as he began to reposition himself, more focused on not causing himself any more pain than producing a reply to her.

“Are you sure you’re okay? Cause you don’t look okay…” Ellie pushed anxiously, trying to get the focus back on him.

“I’m fine. Just caught me off guard is all.”

They both knew that was a bit of an oversimplification and by the look on Ellie’s face, she wasn’t too happy with his attempt to brush this under the carpet.

"It wasn't your fault," Joel murmured, pushing himself to a sitting position with a wince. Every movement he made seemed to be a battle, a very annoying struggle against the pain that radiated from his side. "You were just reacting... to something else…. probably my fault anyhow.”

Joel's eyes inadvertently flicked down to Ellie's bare thighs, the blue-black hues of bruises evident even in the dim light, as she knelt next to him. He had noticed them earlier, but the immediate crisis then had pushed the thoughts to the back of his mind. Now, they came flooding back, mind zoning out as his gaze lingered on the red flags that marred her body.

She had been reacting to something else.

“I said don’t touch me motherfucker!”

Broken pants.

“Don’t do it, please don’t do it.”

Scratches on her waistline.

“you’re hurting-”

Begging, even in her sleep.

“Please don’t.”

"Quit staring," Ellie muttered with a hint of bitterness. Drawn from spiraling thoughts, Joel’s eye flicked back up to hers, filled with a genuine concern, and a bit of remorse.

"I wasn’t—“

“You were," she cut him off, her voice filled turning to something else, a mix of exhaustion and defiance as she pulled down her sweatshirt the best she could to cover her thighs. It barely did a thing.

”Let me see your side," she said, moving toward his shirt once more. He held out a hand, stopping her.

He wasn’t going to let her keep avoiding this.

“Tit for tat - you wanna check on me, I wanna check on you,” Joel rasped, his voice carrying an edge of firmness, making it clear that this was really non-negotiable even if presenting it as such.

Ellie’s jaw clenched. “I’m fine,” she said sternly.

“You ain’t,” he countered, eyes again flicking down to her legs, purposefully this time, brows raised before he came back to meet her eyes. They were as terse as he’d ever seen.

They darted away from his view as she muttered, "It's nothing,” her voice low, but Joel caught the slight tremor in it.

“It ain’t 'nothing'," he pressed firmly.

With an irritated exhale, Ellie rose as her eyes rolled. She stared down at him for a long moment before shooting her hand out for him to grab.

Joel looked at it, and then at her, and then back to it. He hadn’t really anticipated getting up this soon, but he wasn’t going to deny the hand she was extending, metaphorical or physical. He hoped that despite the anger her face showed, the gesture was as much about reconciliation as it was assistance.

Of course, he wouldn’t be so lucky.

With more force than he thought she capable, Ellie helped him move to stand, pulling him vertically and giving him a tight grip to sink into it. She didn’t say a word about the heavy groan that ripped through his body during it all or the way his strong grasp made the cut on the side of her hand burn. She turned away her head from his as he made his way up, not wanting to meet his gaze, and not wanting him to see the way she was making her own body ache with the effort of supporting him. Head drooping toward the floor, she stayed by his side for a moment as he panted through the residual pain, bent at the waist just slightly his free hand on his hip. When he seemed steady enough, Ellie slipped her hand from his, giving it a little shake to rid the irritation in her fingers from his clenched hold.

Marching back to the couch, she aggressively snatched the blankets off the ground and plopped herself onto the worn cushions with a glare and a huff, deliberately positioning the university quilts over her legs to hide it all away.

“Fuck you,” she spat stoically as her body hunched down, arms crossing over her chest.

It had flipped so easily inside her, the switch back to anger and frustration, that it was almost catching her own self off guard. Her stomach felt like it was hanging low, her muscles were all tense, her throat was aching to scream, and her body desperately just felt like picking up the closest thing and heaving it across the room.

She bit the impulse back, stifled down the brewing aggression and frustration - but just barely.

The last time she let herself get swept up in the same feelings a man’s head became sludge on the carpet. Ellie knew she wouldn’t do that to Joel - ever - but she also didn’t want to go anywhere near the emotions that she knew could fuel that sort of thing.

But, that was much harder said than done. And right now, her mind and heart were at odds, unsure of which was actually in control, but either way, one was telling her to make Joel hurt. To make him sad and angry. To make him feel the way she was suddenly starting to again.

“You took off my pants.”

The regret was immediate as she spat the words out with venom, but there was also a sweet satisfaction that came afterward, when the words hung heavy in the air, when the look on his face told her she had it - that soft spot inside of him, that protector persona - easily crushed.

“Ellie..”

She shouldn’t be doing this, not to him, none of this was his fault, but for some reason, she couldn’t make herself stop.

“You wouldn’t’ve even known… I never said you could do that, ” she muttered, eyes narrowing.

The color drained from Joel’s face, and for a moment he looked as if he was about to topple over again. He sucked in a long breath, a deep feeling of culpability settling in his heart. It was almost more painful than Ellie’s hand connecting with his wound just moments before - actually, he might prefer round two of that now, then this, or whatever this was shaping up to be.

He knew what he did, knew it had been necessary, but it made him feel dirty all the same. She didn’t have to do much to bring out the guilt when he already felt ashamed.

Slowly, Joel turned and eased himself into the wingback, taking up refuge in the same spot he had watched her battle through the nightmare earlier - a nightmare he was suddenly worried was somehow about him.

Head low, forearms resting on his thighs, palms, and hands anxiously rubbing together, he ground his teeth back and forth, her screams echoing in his ears once again.

A blip of his large hands encircling her tiny bruised wrists as he moved them away, came to mind, coming back to haunt him like he knew it would when had done it. He hummed at the thought, wondering for a second if perhaps he had done something wrong.

Rushed through it, overstepped, and caused more harm than good.

But then thought of how she was fading in and out, how she shaking - so badly - how her skin was like ice - might as well have been a dead body, cold like a corpse.

Joel nodded his head up and down, convincing himself of what he already knew.

There were lots to feel guilty over, but this couldn’t be one of them.

Anxiously, he raised his head and met hers, trying to read her face and not her words. Ellie’s expression was one filled with contempt, but her eyes held a completely different story - a kid broken and scared.

She was hurting, and if the look in her eyes wasn’t enough, the bruises on her face and the blood splatter still staining her complexion were more than enough of a pointed reminder that Joel needed to tread lightly even if she was marching full steam ahead, raging at the world - at him.

She was doing this on purpose, pushing him, but he wouldn’t push her - couldn’t.

He thought back to before, when he came rushing back into the living room fearing she had slipped away in the few moments he had taken to get the blankets. He remembered the small smile on her face when he made his way into her sights, and how she cracked open his heart with her candid confession:

“I’m always gonna come back.”

“I like when you do.”

Centering himself on that memory, and not her screams, Joel ran a hand down the length of his face before brushing it back and forth against the scruff of his beard. He let out a long sigh, a little worried he was about to say the wrong thing.

"I had to..." he began, his voice coming out more as a gravelly murmur than anything else. He stopped, swallowed hard, and tried again. "You were freezin’..." he said remorsefully, but pointedly, a statement of fact and an apology, side by side.

Ellie nodded with a blank expression, purposefully trying to keep her face deadpan. She didn’t remember all that much, but she wasn’t stupid - logically, she knew that’s what happened.

That hadn’t been the point of bringing it up.

“You couldn’t do it yourself, so I had’ta.”

“I told you to stop,” she countered.

Truthfully, she still didn’t remember much of the whole ordeal, but bits were coming back slowly. There were some moments, vague, but there, she could use against him if she wanted - paint a certain image, true or not. All she could see was her arms and hands pushing against his, small fists banging against his forearms, yelling at him.

Her gaze found the fire for a moment, landing on the red and orange licks of flames, just past his shoulder.

Hands pushing against his, small fists banging against his forearms, red carpet, flames.

“…I was yelling and you kept going…” she said, almost absently, head somewhere else for a twinkle of a second.

She gulped down a growing lump in her throat as her eyes quickly flicked back to Joel, and with a few blinks cleared the images of him away.

Joel opened his mouth to reply but shut it quickly, giving her a nod instead. She wasn’t wrong, but she wasn’t right either.

In the very back of Ellie’s head, a small voice was screaming at her to not be an idiot. To stop whatever this was, now, before she took it too far. That he wasn’t him. That this is leftover aggression stuck inside, threatening to ruin something good.

But she couldn’t.

Her jaw clenched tighter as her eyes went hard and steely. Her head was really starting to throb again, and the hot feeling that had been in her gut was now starting to travel up her body, making her throat tight as it also ushered in a bit of nausea.

She was seething so much that she was making herself sick from the intensity of it all. And for what?

She wiggled in her seat, hands going to grip the sides of the couch, knuckles going white, as she lowered her head to stare at the floor, wondering why he wasn’t getting mad like she thought he would.

“I know, you were..” Joel confirmed, hoping that not denying, or trying to belittle it would somehow make this better for her.

He was able to see her demeanor going colder and colder with every moment she sat on the couch, coming to slow a boil like a pot on a stove. Part of him did want to defend himself and go toe to toe with her - it was only natural - but a bigger part of him just wanted to gather her up in another hug and just never let go. Make her emotions quell, stop the roiling.

"I know what your doin'..." he said, shaking his head, "I know you don't mean what you're sayin’."

"I - ah ..," Ellie stuttered, not expecting to be called out. ”Asshole," she said, trying to recover, albeit not strongly, before tumbling along, words spilling from her mouth. “You’re an asshole, and you - if you gave a shit about me then, you wouldn’t have -“

“- Hey now…“ Joel interjected quickly, a grovel in his voice clearly revealing that his calm exterior was cracking away, her words now hitting him with a certain potency. Ellie’s voice trailed off at the sound of his, focus going to watching the change in his body language, his shoulders tensing, eyes moving away, hand rubbing at his thigh.

Of course, he gave a shit about her. After everything?

She really wasn’t making this easy, and now the underlying guilt that still coursed in his veins - that was practically a part of him now - even though he knew it was misplaced - was turning to frustration, and frustration into precarious anger.

And Ellie knew it too, and now she couldn’t hold back. She wanted to pry that spark of anger from behind his eyes and ignite it. Light it on fire like that fucking restaurant.

“Would you have done that to Sa-“

“Enough.” Joel spat, jaw tight, eyes hard.

Sarah.

It was a low blow, even for Ellie.

His heart was thumping in his chest, whooshing in his ears. He knew where the sentence was going the minute, it was coming out of her, and he couldn’t let it stand. He had sidestepped what she had been insulting the entire time - the dark impropriety of it all - because it was just so far from the truth that it wasn’t even worth playing into. But now, bring up something like that, almost accusing him, with his daughter…no. It crossed a line.

With a deep inhale, Joel pushed himself off the chair the pain of it all buried monetarily under his own indignation, only a small wince escaping. The old wood creaked under him, the sound echoing the tension in the room. With a slow-paced stride, his leather boots thudded against the floor, the rhythmic sound resonating through the still air, each deliberate step echoing ominously. His fists were balled tightly as he sad and his face stern.

Ellie watched as he got closer, content that she had finally pushed him over the edge.

She hated herself, but not just for this.

Coming to a still directly in front of her, he lowly began, “You don’t-,” he dragged in a long breath, “you don’t bring her anywhere in this….that ain’t right, and you know it.”

His intention wasn’t to be intimidating - just firm, but standing above her as he was, was a little bit menacing. Ellie gave him a slow nod, eyes looking forward, not up towards him. Her quickening pulse was echoing in her ears, mouth getting a little watery with apprehension.

Joel looked anywhere but down towards her, not wanting to show her any more anger than he already had let slip out. His fingers ran against his palms, still tightly screwed together, as his eyes wandered around the area behind the couch, scanning the kitchen, hoping to use it mundanity as a means to steady himself.

Exhaling through his nose, Joel took a long step back, and then another away, turning his back toward Ellie.

God, bringing his Sarah up like that, now. What was she thinkin’?

Drawing his head up to the ceiling, he called back to that feeling in his gut when he woke up alone in the basement. That feeling in his chest, when he thought he was about to find her body a the end of a trail of blood. That feeling in his heart, when she fell into his arm, scared as all hell.

He shook his head. Ellie was his too.

An oppressive silence stretched between them, the weight of unsaid words becoming almost palpable as Joel swayed back and forth on the balls of his feet, debating what to say, how to carry on. It was clear she was just lashing out, generally, but he couldn't let it all slide. Not that easily.

"Trauma ain't a hall pass" - Tommy told him that once.

Sucking in a final long breath, hands going to his hips, Joel turned to face Ellie.

“I know I wasn’t there. But I got to eyes. And I know somethin’ happened to you. And if this is - was? - you tryin’ to make sense about that then, fine. Spit whatever you want at me, okay? Hit me, yell at me, I don’t care…I’ll take it.. I deserve that…cause that’s on me for leaving you alone.” His voice was eerily steady, low, and coarse like how Ellie knew it when he was barking orders at her, way back at the beginning of their journey together. The tenderness that he had exhibited since coming back together seemed to be gone, even though his words painted a different picture. For better of worse, this was the Joel she knew.

“But listen to me. I’m serious Ellie - Listen here.” Joel waited for Ellie to look up and meet his eyes. When she did so, he continued. “Sarah stays far out of it.”

Ellie didn’t make a move, a little stunned by the way he seemed to have his emotions under control, especially after she had expected so much more.

He was going to end it at that, but a nagging voice in the back of his head told him he might as well dot all his ‘I’s and cross his ’T’s too.

“And to be clear, I didn’t do anythin’, would never, do anythin’ to you- like what you were getting at.. makes me sick just thinking about it,” his tone was serious, yet his words danced around the hard topic like he wasn’t confident using the real words for it. His mouth turned down as the thought of it stayed in his brain, festering for a moment before fading out.

The look in his eyes had Ellie swallowing back some guilt, tears even beginning to prick at her waterline again.

Joel's hand came to his neck, rubbing away the much-accumulated tension, while looking around the room to search for something else to focus on. His eyes landed on her again - how could they not - and he paused. Blood, bruises, brewing with anger. He could fix some of that.

His eyes went to the pot of water still resting on the coffee table after all this time and then over toward the hallway.

He cleared his throat. “Now, I’m gonna go see if there ain’t something around here to clean you up with.”

It’s said with genuine care, but it's not hard to read that perhaps it’s also a distraction - a misdirection- to take away from the fraught way the conversation had come to a close.

Joel scooted past the couch with a slight limp, heading toward the hallway and out the room, leaving Ellie sitting alone.

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