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missydior · 4 months

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milk & honey ౨ৎ

♡: slow and peaceful saturdays with the love of your life.

notes: charles leclerc/reader, established relationship, fluff.

a/n: this is my first uploaded piece on my new blog so please interact, give me feedback, leave a like, much appreciated <3 i listened to ‘la petite fille de la mer’ whilst i was writing this.

It is a gentle afternoon in the principality of Monaco: the skies a palette of pale lilac against the quilt of grey clouds in gentle rainfall that lingers with a hint of petrichor, a slow and familiar hustle amongst the streets of smooth stone and Belle Époque architecture where a stray cat wanders her path before disappearing once more into the alcoves of an alley.

After a slow dawn of waking amongst a mess of clean, linen sheets, feathered pillows, and tangled limbs where the heavy, velvet curtains danced serenely in some lovers' waltz, hiding the bedroom in some quiet bask, the both of you enjoyed breakfast over almond croissants, blueberries stolen from one another's plates and your usual café au lait – half a sugar, more milk than deemed necessary, just as Charles knows you love it – before you had walked around the neighbourhood by eleven o'clock to at least feel somewhat productive.

Even when the both of you only wanted to lounge endlessly after returning from Montréal the day before.

Despite finishing 4th and not quite following through in his hopes in securing an awarding podium and a taste of sweet champagne, faced with the recent difficulties of upgrades, he had come to accept and delight in his small succession nonetheless with you by his side, forever proud regardless.

Phones on mute, the rest of society blissfully forgotten and only each other to indulge in, it is pure bliss; perfect heaven.

"Hm, you smell nice," By two o'clock – after a light luncheon on the balcony overlooking the beauty of the Côte d'Azur – you are dozing idly about the plush invitation of the sofa, his voice a hushed murmur near the side of your neck where lips ghost over in something close to a kiss when he speaks.

Charles is half-draped over your own figure, though his weight is comfortably balanced by an elbow against a sewn cushion, some kind of Jardin De Fleurs -inspired embroidery made and gifted by your grandmother, with ankles locked about each other and your soft-skinned palm tracing his shoulder through the white linen of his shirt.

For a moment, a quietude settles between you once more and you welcome the entwined curl of his lithe fingers around your own when his hand drifts higher from the inside of your wrist absently like some unspoken 'I love you' before his mouth meets yours.

It is slow and sweet, the kind of kisses you savour in committing to memory each and every time, and he can taste remnants of sweetened milk & honey tea on your breath that is so apparently mundane but equally unique to you alone.

When your head tilts back against the cushions – hair falling about like an angel's halo – and Charles shifts his own body further, closer, above you, his hands come to cradle either side of your lovely face, his thumbs grazing the delicate line of your cheekbones, his nose brushing lightly against the bridge of your own.

He kisses your brow, then the bridge of your nose, the apples of your cheeks, and finally your mouth again, all in that order, before breaking away for air.

"What was that for?" Voice hardly a demure whisper, you gaze at him through the veil of your lashes in some lovesick delight where your mouth threatens to curve against a hushed giggle, your own touch idly feeling along the carved line of his jaw like intricate marble where a dusting of five o'clock shadow lingers from a few days' worth. You secretly adore it, how it feels.

Charles smiles – all beautiful, revealed dimples and a glimmer in his eyes that remind of leaves in late August – and brushes a stray hair behind the shell of your ear. He takes a moment, his gaze lingering about the lines of your visage as if falling in love again, everyday. "For no particular reason, ma chérie, just because I want to."

Then he is leaning down to meet you again just as you welcome the embrace without question, only allowing yourself to melt further into the serenity of some lovesick truth as your arms drape about his shoulders faintly.

"Je pense..." Charles' mouth drifts down from yours slowly in a trail of kisses about your chin in his verbalised albeit quiet musings before lips slant together again and he encourages you to open for him, tasting, feeling, his tongue teasing over yours in a caress, "That I don't need a reason to kiss you."

In some silent, earnest contentment, you agree, because you could never refuse or object to the intimacy of his kisses and touches.

Mouth curving upwards against his, you let your fingertips feel the trimmed, soft hairs at his nape against tousled brunet tresses whilst breathing him in: Ombré Nomade cologne, hints of something akin to cedarwood against raspberry, incense and warm amber, against his natural pheromones. Home.

Feeling the lean muscles against his back through the soft fabric, toying only subtly with the subtle drag of teeth against his plush lower-lip whilst your eyes remain blissfully closed, you meet the faintest resonance of a sound from the back of his throat like a purr when he sucks upon your tongue with the same touch of loving.

"Vous êtes si belle," He sighs the compliments against you in sweet nothings and unabashed confessions, his own touch ghosting over the curves of your waist through the ivory, lace camisole hugging your physique, thumbs fleeting over the jut of your hip-bone before drifting higher once more.

It is when idle strokes are felt over your rib cage that you unconsciously emit a breathless, flushed sound of laughter against him before you can help yourself, instinctively shrinking against the touch whilst earning a look from him as he draws away fractionally with arched brows.

"Ticklish, are we, ma chérie?"

Your mouth parts for a retort or quick dismissal out of bashfulness – even when you know that he already knows too, given the Monégasque has the privilege to know each intimate, secretive and wholehearted truth about you – though the words die on your tongue the moment his fingertips continue their ministrations over your sides.

You cannot stop the serenade of laughter from leaving you, not when you are entirely vulnerable beneath, and a warmth settles in your chest when the corners of his eyes crinkle in a genuine smile as he continues tickling you.

"Arrêt–" A breathless gasp of imploration, palms that reach to try and draw him away with a shove at his chest though your rosé cheeks hurt from the depth of your raw, honest smiles, "Charles." ꒰ stop ꒱

Chuckling lowly, the man offers you the respite of mercy as he comes to a halt and kisses the corner of your mouth intimately, instead allowing his hands to feel the curve of your lower-back and the notches of your vertebrae until eyes meet in the peace of the afternoon, otherwise silent save for the lull of Lana del Rey from the kitchenette radio.

"Je t'aime." ꒰ i love you ꒱

He kisses you again and it is rich in his responding, ardent devotion to you, letting the faint remnants of your lipstick smear his own mouth like the prints you leave on hand-written love letters of cursive Française just for him in your diaries, the cashmere throw forgotten about your feet on the other end of the chaise lounge whilst rain continues.

"Je t'aime aussi, pour toujours." ꒰ i love you too, forever ꒱

a/n: don't forget to interact and leave a like or comment to spread the love <3

#𝜗𝜚 my works #i love him #charles leclerc #charles leclerc x reader #formula 1 #f1 #hashtags for the sake of audience </3 #f1 x reader #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #f1 x female reader #f1 girls #f1 wag #f1 fluff #formula 1 x reader #formula 1 imagine #formula 1 fanfic #formula 1 x you

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bullet-prooflove · 1 month

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Making Memories: Angel Reyes x Reader (feat: EZ Reyes, Felipe Reyes)

Tagging: @witches-unruly-heart @fleureeee @keyweegirlie @infinity-mars @danzer8705

Secret - You keep a secret from Angel.

Traditions - You and Angel make your own traditions this Christmas.

Home - Felipe knows your pregnant.

Angel’s worried, he’s worried because you haven’t spoken a word since the two of you have gotten home from the hospital and Angel doesn’t know how to fix it. He doesn’t know what you need, how to help you, he doesn’t even know how to help himself because that grief you’re feeling, he’s feeling it too.

It’s an ache in his chest, an acute pain that throbs through his entire body as he looks at you, curled up on the couch, your gaze fixated on the TV. You’re not watching the movie that Felipe’s left on, not really. Your gaze is distant, you knees tucked up underneath you. He wants to reach out and touch you but you feel so far away right now.

You don’t acknowledge him when he puts the mug of tea down on the end table alongside of you, not even when he takes up residence on the couch beside you, his palms pressed between his knees.

“Say something.” He pleads. “Please Lila…”

“I feel so empty.” You say softly, your eyes focused on the screen as your palm comes to rest on the space your son used to reside. “One minute he was there and the next…”

You’d miscarried tonight.

You’d been pregnant with his son Antonio for almost five months before he was snatched away from you. The bleeding had started a couple of hours ago, you’d known immediately that something was wrong, it was at the hospital they confirmed it. Your beautiful boy was gone.

“I can’t do this again.” You whisper, shaking your head. “I don’t want another baby.”

“We don’t have to.” Angel murmurs as he wraps his arms around you and gathers you up close. “This little family we have right now, I promise you, it’s enough.”

***

You have a memory quilt, it’s one that your Grandmother sewed during the final months of her life. It’s draped at the bottom of the bed you share with Angel for the colder nights you have in Santo Padre. It’s made of different fabrics, aspects of your history she’d collected throughout the years. You’d been thinking of making one for Valeria out of the baby clothes she was quickly growing out, you’d planned to do the same for baby Antonio after he was born.

It's past midnight when Felipe finds Angel in the garage, moving boxes of junk around. You’ve been asleep for hours at this point, in the chair in Valeria’s bedroom. You sleep there a lot recently, dozing off as you watch the raise and fall of her chest.

“Angel.” Felipe says, his voice gruff as he studies the chaos of the garage. His son is standing in the midst of it all, wearing a white wifebeater and black basketball shorts. His hair is ruffled, sticking up in all directions. “Angel what are you doing?”

“I need mom’s sewing machine.” He tells Felipe as he moves another box out of the way. “There’s something I need to do.”

“You need the sewing machine? At midnight?” Felipe questions and Angel sighs before turning to face his father.

“Lila is struggling.” He tells his father. “She feels like a part of her is missing, she doesn’t know how to move on and I think I have a way to help with that, I just…”

He trails off, expecting reproach.

“You need to find the sewing machine.” Felipe says instead as he steps into the garage and begins to shift some boxes. “The last time I saw it, it was over here.”

***

The problem they discover is that neither of them know how to sew. Angel thought it would be a plug and play situation and Felipe thought because he’s watched his wife do it so many times, he’d be able to do the same thing. The truth is it’s a lot more complicated than either of them realised.

It’s EZ that comes to the rescue, EZ the boy scout, EZ who spent eight years in prison mending orange jumpsuits and sewing new ones as part of his ‘rehabilitation’.

The three of them fall into an easy rhythm. Felipe and Angel cut out the shapes, organising them whilst EZ uses the sewing machine to bind the pieces together. You’re up in Yuma at the moment, helping Manny set up the new pot farm. Angel thinks some time away will be good for you, that it’ll give you some space to work through your feelings.

“This looks like your old sheets.” EZ remarks, picking up a scrap of fabric during a break from the sewing machine.

Filipe’s making them coffee while Angel cradles his daughter Valeria to his chest, feeding her with a bottle.

“It is.” Angel tells him, wiping the spit up from around his daughter’s mouth with a towel. “This whole things a memory blanket. Valeria’s baby grows, Antonio’s things, the first time we…”

EZ drops the plaid fabric and Angel rolls his eyes.

“I’ve washed them since them.”

It takes them three days to finish the quilt. They work diligently, putting the whole thing together and when they’re done Angel can’t quite believe what they’ve managed to accomplish. It’s a patchwork of your relationship, your family. There’s pieces of him and the kids, but there’s swatches of Felipe, and EZ too. They’ve even managed to incorporate a shirt of his mother’s into the design.

“That looks good right?” He asks the other men as he holds it up for them to see. “I mean we did a great job?”

“Yea.” Felipe says, his voice a little rough because that’s his family right there, laid out on that quilt. “I think Lila’s going to love it.”

***

You’re tired when you get home that night, bone achingly so. Angel can see it as he takes your bag from you at the door. You smell like kush when he holds you and it takes him back to the early days, before Valeria, when the two of you were a little wild. He lets you get settled on the couch before he brings out the quilt. He doesn’t say anything, he just drapes it across your lap before he sits down alongside of you and gathers you close.

Your finger run over the fabrics, Valeria’s baby clothes, Antonio’s sleepsuit, your fingers come to linger on the plaid before you tilt your head towards him and say.

“Angel, did you make me a fuck quilt?”

You laugh then and it’s a rich, lovely sound that resonates through his entire being. It’s been a while since he’s heard that noise and he knows in that moment that despite the tragedy you’ve suffered, the two of you, you’re going to be alright.

Love Angel? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

#angel reyes #angel reyes x reader #mayans

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rxnn · 6 months

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Bleeding Heart [one]

warnings: first post so i'm new to this. mention of storm and joker attack (leia and callum aren't hurt). please let me know if i missed any!

important! this is an fem!oc x yan!batboys cause that's just more fun/easier for me. feel free to use y/n if that's comfier i don't care, just don't be a jerk.

this will mostly be a slow roll into yan behavior. each of them will have their own descent which with either be slow or fast (i literally have a document where i wrote everything out). also, this my first time writing yan or darker content so be patient with me please. last thing, promise: i don't condone any behavior that will be present in this series, this is for fictional purposes only (not seen in this chap but it will be present later).

❥ ❥ ❥

Leia Barnett always liked the rain.

Don't get her wrong, she liked sunny days, but something about rain hitting the roof of her semi-decent two-bedroom apartment while rain ran down the windows in steady streams and she sat on her small couch with a cup of coca in her cold hands. Snuggled under a quilt her grandmother had made her when she went off to college, she smiled, content. It had small stains on it now after it's many years of use.

There was one from Matilda's coffee that she'd catch herself staring at more than often now that they'd never get the chance to giggle about it anymore. Matilda, one of her dearest friends, her best friend who'd taken her in when she had no where else to go, her person some would say. Where one went, the other was close by. But now, she was in a place Leia couldn't follow. Not for a long time.

Another was a blue marker stain that refused to budge thanks to one of Callum's many attempts at drawing. Callum, her beautiful boy with soft dark curls and bright hazel eyes. She loved that boy more than anything. She promised herself she'd do good by him, better than her parents.

It was a slow start, raising him with Matilda until she passed a year ago and having to move, it was a lot, but Leia was nothing if not determined (see: stubborn).

Leia glanced at the clock and set her cup to the side, stretching before she stood and collected her shoes, jacket, and umbrella to pick Callum up from the bus stop. She walked out of her apartment, double checking that she locked the door behind her.

It was only a ten-minute walk to the bus stop. One that she tried her best to make every day, only missing it when she had a shift at the hospital. Often times, she woke early enough that she was able to see Callum to the bus and back in time to pick him up except for the rare twelve hour she had to cover. Those usually happened when some villain hit Gotham.

Those days were hard.

On those days, Callum stayed with Mrs. Houseman, their neighbor to the left. She was in her late seventies from what Leia could tell. She worked at the library and often brought Callum there on those longer days to keep him busy for no charge. Mrs. Houseman claimed she often missed her own children so having Callum around was payment enough. As a single mother who was just beginning to piece her life together again, Leia truly appreciated the woman.

Her phone ringing made her jump as she walked through the rain, spotting Callum get off the bus. She quickly waved him over and she kissed his forehead and adjusted the hood of his bright red rain jacket as it started to rain.

"Hi, Mama!"

"Hey, Cal! How was school?"

"Good! I played tag with Justin today!"

"Ooo, sounds fun." Leia ruffled his hair.

'Susan' appeared on her screen, and she sighed before answering. Susan was a nice woman in her forties and was the head nurse on her floor. She'd taken Leia under her wing and given her plenty of tips for living in Gotham.

Leia gestured to her phone and Callum nodded, grabbing her free hand as they began walking home.

"Hello? Everything alright?"

"Where are you?" She sounded rushed and Leia looked around for anyone running.

"I'm picking up Callum..." she trailed off, gripping Callum's hand a little tighter and sped up. The boy glanced up at her, confused, and she shook her head, signaling him to hurry.

"There's been a Joker attack near your place. Get your boy and get inside you hear?"

"Gas?" Leia asked as she started running, picking up Callum and closing her umbrella as would only make it harder to run for cover.

"That's what I'm hearing. Don't let me see you in here tonight, Barnett."

And like that, Susan hung up and Leia tucked her phone away.

Suddenly, the rain wasn't so relaxing as it had covered the sound of toxin sirens she was only now hearing. It seemed the few people on the streets had also picked up on them as people began running for shelter.

"Mama?" Callum's fearful voice only fueled her to rush through the door of their complex.

"It's okay, baby," she wheezed, holding the boy closer. "Almost there."

The sirens were louder now, signaling the toxin was almost to their block.

Leia took the steps two at a time. She could hear the door to their complex open and close but she paid little mind to it and rushed to their door and unlocked it with shaking hands before Callum ran in.

She cursed herself for not remembering the masks before she left. Months here and she should've known. To be fair, the last Joker attack had been before she moved in.

Leia locked the door's three locks behind her (you could never be too careful).

By the time she turned, the sirens were just outside their complex and Callum had scampered off to grab their gas masks. He came running around the corner and grabbed onto her pant leg just as the green smog covered the windows. Leila was quick to strap the mask around his face before putting her own on. Sure, they were inside, but Leia heard stories of windows not being fully closed or cracked and the smog seeping through, infecting unsuspecting families.

"C'mon." She ushered Callum away from the windows and toward the center of their small apartment where she gave him headphones that were connected to a playlist she'd made for situations like these a long time ago. She pulled him to sit in her lap as she leaned against the wall, holding him close to her as the sirens rang out.

She closed her eyes, trying to stop shaking and stop the panic that threatened to cloud her mind.

The sound of laughter filled the streets and she hugged her son tighter. Everyone who inhaled the green gas laughed until they died. The first time she'd seen pictures of the bodies of those affected, she nearly threw up.

Their area was usually safe from such things with only muggings, some drug deals that were usually dealth with, and smaller crimes. Every now and again you'd hear gunshots. It'd taken a while for the Barnett's to get used to, but now it was as common as the never-ending rain.

Callum curled into her, facing away from the windows, but the shadows of the smoke moving past the windows was scary enough for the six-year-old.

An eternity of waiting for the smog to clear, the laughter to fall silent, and the robotic voice from the sirens telling them it safe to leave their homes.

Leia didn't move.

She listened to the rain against the windows, much stronger now as the storm hit Gotham in a rage of its own.

Looking back only a few months later, she should've known then. She should've left and never looked back.

The rain that she adored so much beat against the windows, begging to swallow her and her son whole.

❥ ❥ ❥

pretty short cause i'm scared. next ones will be longer, pinky promise pookies :)

two, three, four

#yandere dc #yandere batboys #yandere batfamily #batfam #jason todd #dick grayson #damian wayne #bruce wayne #tim drake #dc fanfic #yandere x oc #timothy drake #red robin #dc robin #batfamily

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mxnsterbabe · 1 year

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Male Demon/Female Reader SFW Wordcount: 2,597 Commissions | Ko-fi | Masterlist | Link to Request

He visits you in the middle of the night, curling up by your side as you sleep. In the morning, he's always gone; until one morning, he stays.

You were tucked into your bed, snug and warm under the patchwork quilt your grandmother had given you. Bonnie, old tabby cat, usually curled up at the foot of your bed, her purring a comforting rhythm in the dark. Tonight, something was off.

You felt a light touch on your shoulder. It wasn't Bonnie – it was too long, too thin, too human. But your heartbeat didn't quicken. You already knew what it was; the mysterious presence that had been popping by for the past few weeks.

Without opening your eyes, you let out a sigh and said, "you can get in."

The touch retreated, and the room felt different, like a cloud had just covered the moon. But it wasn't exactly dark. There was a weird glow, as if from a new light source. Curiosity piqued, you opened your eyes and looked.

There he was, at the end of your bed. The unnamed presence who had been visiting you almost every night. He was tall and shadowy, almost like a living silhouette against the backdrop of your room. His eyes glowed like two hot coals, warming the otherwise chilly space.

"Hey," you said, letting your voice fill the quiet room.

He looked at you, his fiery eyes soft. Over the past few weeks, he'd shared tales of his world and listened to stories of yours.

Tonight, it felt like the connection between you two had deepened. He was there, in his true form, sitting beside you. You patted the bed next to you, inviting him to join you under the quilt. After a moment's hesitation, the tall shadowy figure slipped in beside you. He was weightless, causing no dip in the mattress, but his presence was tangible.

You reached out to touch him, your fingers meeting an unexpectedly solid shadow. He felt both real and ethereal at the same time.

The silence of the moment felt intimate and comforting. You, sharing your bed with a being not of this world, yet somehow familiar. Although he never spoke, he seemed content you let you talk, night after night. His interest in you, your life, your humanity – it was fascinating and endearing.

Closing your eyes, you looked forward to more nights like that one, sharing stories and quiet moments. You hadn't only let him into your bed but also into your life.

You felt a subtle shift in the air next to you, a vibration in the very essence of the space you shared. You sensed Imerkatos' caution as he slowly moved, an almost hesitant movement in the shadowy dark. It was like he was gauging the boundaries, navigating uncharted waters. He was learning, just like he'd been doing ever since he stepped into your world.

There was a pause, an almost tangible silence, before you felt it; a ghostly arm, barely there yet so distinctly present, draped over your side. It was an unfamiliar touch, made of shadow and warmth that felt like a soft, summer breeze. You couldn't help but lean into it, a natural instinct to seek comfort and connection.

It was weird, really, this comfort you found in his presence. Imerkatos never spoke a word. His silence wasn't intimidating, though. On the contrary, it felt peaceful. It was a language of its own, a silent melody that hummed reassurance in your ears. His gestures, his attentiveness, the glow in his eyes, all spoke volumes of his intent, his respect, his...affection? It was too early to tell, yet the possibility lingered, swirling in the soft glow of his eyes.

Despite his nature, despite him being a creature spun out of shadows and mysteries, you found solace in his presence. His silent understanding, his respectful curiosity, his gentle touch, all fostered a unique sense of safety. This demon, this shadowy being from another realm, had somehow become your haven.

You snuggled closer, soaking in the strange warmth that radiated from him. It wasn't like the heat of another human body; it was more akin to the comforting glow of a dying ember or the last rays of a setting sun. You could feel it seeping into you, lulling your senses, chasing away the last vestiges of wakefulness.

Closing your eyes, you let yourself be swaddled by the serenity. You found your breathing syncing with the gentle rhythm of his silent existence. The boundaries between your world and his seemed to blur in this quiet moment of shared comfort.

As you drifted off, you vaguely registered the protective tightening of his arm around you, a silent vow of safety, of shared space, of a connection that was slowly deepening.

***

You woke up the next morning to find him gone. It was always the same; by the time the first rays of dawn peeked through your window, he had disappeared. You didn't know why. Perhaps he disliked the sun, or maybe he didn't want to risk being seen by others. It could have been something entirely different that called him away at the break of day.

Whatever the reason, the empty space next to you was a stark reminder of his absence. The warm hum of his presence was replaced by the cold morning air, and the comforting darkness was chased away by the early sunlight.

It was weird, waking up alone after sharing such an intimate night. The connection you'd formed, the closeness you'd experienced, it all felt like a dream in the harsh light of day. The lingering warmth on your shoulder, the spot where his hand had rested, was proof enough of the reality of his presence.

You lay in bed for a while longer, staring at the ceiling, lost in thoughts. You tried to chase away the disappointment that crept in with his absence. The room felt bigger, emptier without him. There was a distinct lack of that strange yet comforting energy he carried with him, a void that nothing else could fill.

His absence was as potent as his presence, and it left you with an odd sensation, a sense of loss and anticipation tangled together. You missed him, but there was also the knowledge, the expectation, that he would return when night fell again. It was this thought that helped you get through the day, the assurance that he would come back, just as he always did.

Despite your acceptance of his routine, you couldn't help but wish he could stay longer, wish he could be there when you woke. You wanted to see if his shadowy form looked different in the daylight, wanted to know if his eyes would still glow as brightly. But these were mere wishes, idle musings that you knew were unlikely to come true.

You got up, the cool wooden floor under your feet grounding you back into reality. Bonnie was curled up on the chair by the window, her golden eyes blinking open as you passed. You greeted her, your voice filling the silence that Imerkatos' absence left behind.

You went about your day, carrying the memory of the night before. Every now and then, you would pause, letting your mind wander back to the comfort and peace you felt in his presence. Your heart fluttered with the anticipation of another night filled with shared silences and stories.

And as the day wore on, you couldn't help but count the hours until nightfall, until the time he would visit again.

At the close of the day, you retreated to your bed, the soft blankets a familiar comfort against your tired body. You lay there, your mind drifting between wakefulness and the cusp of dreams, the anticipation of Imerkatos' visit quietly bubbling in your heart.

As always, it was his soft touch against your shoulder that roused you. It was gentle, almost cautious, as if he was still afraid you might not accept his touch. It was an endearing trait, his respect for your space and consent, a gentle reminder of his inherent goodness despite his mysterious origins.

Of course, you accepted his touch. You always did, welcoming him with a soft whisper and a pat on the space next to you. "Come in," you'd say, inviting him to share your bed, your space, your world.

And he did, lying down next to you, his shadowy form blending seamlessly with the darkness of your room. His glowing eyes, the only light source, seemed to cast a warm glow over everything, softening the harshness of reality.

You never did anything else. There were no wild adventures or daring explorations in the middle of the night. Instead, you'd embrace each other, a connection physical and emotional, and lie there for hours.

Sometimes, you'd talk, your voice filling the quiet room. You'd share stories of your day, your dreams, your fears, and he'd listen. His silence was not the absence of communication, but a form of it. He'd respond in his own way – a squeeze of his hand around yours, a soft vibration that echoed his emotions, or the subtle shift of his gaze as he processed your words.

This was your routine, your shared ritual that tied your nights together. It was intimate, it was quiet, and it was yours. You wanted nothing more than these moments to last forever.

You voiced your wish that night, the words heavy and thick in the quiet room. "I wish you'd stay through the day," you said, your fingers tracing invisible patterns on his shadowy arm. "Or at least, say goodbye before you leave." The words hung in the air, almost tangible in their honesty.

As always, he didn't reply; but the flicker in his eerie eyes told you he was listening. His gaze held yours, the soft glow providing a comforting presence in the enveloping darkness.

Emboldened by the silence, you decided to voice the feelings you'd been wrestling with, the emotions that had been blooming inside you. Your heart hammered against your chest, echoing the enormity of your confession.

"I...I care for you, you know," you began, the words coming out in a rush. His eyes widened a fraction, the glow intensifying. "I don't even know what we are to each other, but I..." You swallowed, steeling yourself for the next words. "I think I've come to...maybe even love you."

The room was silent, the only sound was the soft rustle of your bed sheets as you shifted. Your confession felt like a massive weight lifted from your chest, leaving you feeling both vulnerable and relieved. Your gaze was locked with his, your own emotions reflected in his glowing eyes.

He didn't respond, didn't say a word. Then again, you hadn't expected him to. He was a silent shadowy figure who spoke volumes with his eyes and actions.

His silence didn't discourage you. If anything, it spurred you on. You wanted him to know, wanted him to understand the depth of your feelings for him. You didn't even know if he was capable of such emotions, if he could reciprocate your feelings. It didn't matter. You had needed to say it, for your own sake.

His gaze softened, the glow in his eyes dimming to a gentle ember. He seemed to understand, to acknowledge your confession in his own quiet way. His arm tightened around you, pulling you closer into his shadowy embrace.

Your heart fluttered in your chest, an odd mix of relief and anticipation filling you. You'd spoken your truth, had laid bare your feelings for this otherworldly being. Now, all you could do was wait and see where these nightly visits, these intimate moments of shared silence, would take you.

You took a deep breath, your heart pounding against your ribcage. "I love you," you confessed again, your voice echoing in the quiet room. "And yet... I don't even know your name."

The silence that followed was poignant, filled with your whispered words and the weight of your confession. His glowing eyes bore into yours, the red light reflecting your own vulnerability and hope. It was a moment frozen in time, your worlds colliding and intertwining in the dark.

Speaking seemed to take a great effort, like it was a foreign concept to him. His form flickered, a ripple passing through the shadowy mass that made up his body. You watched as he struggled, a strange sense of awe and anticipation filling you.

His body didn't have any distinct features, nothing that hinted at a face or a form. But as he spoke, a shadowy mouth appeared, filled with sharp, gleaming teeth. They were like shards of obsidian, catching the faint glow of his eyes and reflecting it back.

Finally, he responded. His voice was rough, like gravel being dragged over a rough surface, but it was the most beautiful sound you'd ever heard. "Imerkatos," he said, the word hanging heavy in the air.

The sight should have been terrifying, a demon in your bed, his mouth full of sharp teeth. But it wasn't. Somehow, it was just another piece of the puzzle that was Imerkatos, another aspect of the shadowy figure you'd come to love.

His mouth disappeared as quickly as it appeared, his form reverting back to the familiar shadowy mass. But the word - his name - hung in the air, echoing in the silence of the room. "Imerkatos," you repeated, the name rolling off your tongue like a sacred chant.

As you nestled back into his arms, his name a soft murmur on your lips, you realized something profound. You loved Imerkatos, this shadowy demon with glowing red eyes. And even though you didn't know what the future held, you were ready to face it, as long as he was by your side.

Exhaustion eventually took over, and you fell asleep nestled in Imerkatos' embrace, your face pressed into his shadowy chest. The steady rhythm of his silent existence lulled you into a deep sleep, his arms providing a cocoon of comfort and safety around you.

In the morning, you woke up to the familiar feeling of emptiness next to you. A pang of disappointment gripped your heart, a now customary sensation every morning. Just as you were about to succumb to it, something made you roll over.

Your breath hitched in your throat as you saw him standing in the doorway. The morning light spilling from the hall framed him in an ethereal glow, casting long, wavering shadows behind him. A rush of relief so intense washed over you that you almost cried. He was here. He had stayed.

His form seemed different under the harsh light. His shadowy body was smaller, less flickering and more solid, almost like the light was giving him substance. He seemed to shrink away from the sunlight, a slight vibration in his form betraying his discomfort. Despite that, he was here. He had stayed.

As you took in the sight of him standing there, you couldn't help the smile that spread across your face. You pushed back the covers, moving to sit on the edge of the bed. "Imerkatos," you called softly, beckoning him closer.

His red eyes shifted towards you, the warm glow dimming slightly under the glare of the morning sun. Despite his discomfort, he moved closer, his form gliding smoothly over the wooden floor.

The sight of him, the knowledge that he had chosen to stay despite his discomfort with the sunlight, filled you with a profound sense of joy and gratitude. This was Imerkatos, the shadowy demon with glowing red eyes, who had chosen to step into your world, to step into the light. This was Imerkatos, who you'd come to love.

#exophilia fiction #exophilia #monster x reader #monster boyfriend #monster romance #tag: mxf #tag: demon #tag: sfw #tag: male monster #tag: female reader

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ha-bloody-ha · 1 year

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It's almost official: the Murdoch Quilt, made from costume scraps from seasons 12-14 of Murdoch Mysteries (with a few pieces from earlier years), is going up for auction very soon! Bidding will close on not long after October 2, the date of the S17 premiere. I even managed to get a high-end art auction house involved. I had a Zoom call with them and the Shaftesbury Films publicity people this afternoon to finalize plans. (Yes I am freaking out about this.)

Christina Jennings, Founder, CEO, and President of Shaftesbury Films gave the quilt and the Urban Alliance on Race Relations, beneficiary of the auction proceeds, a shoutout in her speech to the crowd at the Shaftesbury TIFF party last Monday. (She suggested that someone's grandmother might like it. Me, I want it on permanent display somewhere. It's a work of women's art that was never intended to disappear into someone's linen closet. But that was, uh, not the ideal venue for pushing that argument. Ahem.)

Some of the "best" questions people have asked about the quilt:

How do we know it's authentic? Are you trying to scam people?

Seriously? You honestly think someone would come up with a scam involving the time and coordinated effort of 20 people in three countries to produce something that has fabrics that look EXACTLY like what's in the costumes on TV, in order to raise money for a 48-year-old anti-racism charity? That's... rather a grim way to perceive the world.

2. Why don't you sell the pattern so other quilters can make it too?

There is no pattern. 18 people designed and made their own unique blocks from the fabrics they had available. If you want to stare at pictures of it to reverse-engineer the 30 different blocks so you can make them from other fabrics that didn't come from the MM costume room, knock yourself out.

3. You're making another one, right?

No. This one took hundreds of dollars (gas, postage, longarm quilting) and at least 150 hours of work. "One of a kind" means "one of a kind."

(I have so many thoughts about how textile art is [or isn't] valued, and whom it's perceived to be for, even by people who really should know better. I'm hopeful that this project and the auction will spark some thoughts and conversations about this. Best case, the quilt itself will net five figures, maybe from one of the Bus People who've been on the fancy tours and who Get It about what this kind of fibre art is worth. I can dream, can't I?)

Anyway. Auction closes in early November! October 2! More details coming soon! aaaah!

#murdoch mysteries #the murdoch quilt #murdoch quilt #murdoch mysteries costumes #quilting #fibre art #fiber art #art quilt #quiltblr #textile art #textiles #fabric art #it's finally happening #eeeeee #thank you joanna #costume design #tv costumes

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v-era-18 · 1 year

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HoneyBee

Chapter Two: Chased or Chase

‘Why continue to chase after someone when they deserve the moon, and you simply can’t give it to them,’- Sam Witwicky

Tonight was perfect.

Not only was (Y/n) able to warm up her meal from ‘Honey’s Waffles’ without ruining the quality, but she was able to watch her favorite movie before falling asleep. The covers were warm, along with the hand sewn quilt her grandmother made her in the ninth grade. The stars were hand stitched, along with her favorite constellations.

It was beautiful, in the far right square at the very bottom was a stitched planet from her family's stories her grandfather told. She still remembers the tears she shed that night on her birthday, Sam’s laughter at how ugly her face scrunched up as fat tears rolled down. It was one of the memories she cherished the most, things were so simple back then, but here they were last year of highschool and college acceptance letters littered her simi neat desk.

She rolled over, snuggling into the bear on the other side of the bed as she thought about the handsome boy from earlier. The girl bit her lip as a giggle bubbled up behind her lips as she tried to keep the feeling at bay. He was a stranger, and yet he left her feeling like she was the only one in the world at that moment. She could still feel the lips that whispered against her ear at the soft promise to see her again.

(Y/n) will admit, she's looking forward to the possibility of the boy walking through the large doors of her family's library. It was another one of her pride that she did not take lightly, and sharing it with someone she saw as a romantic interest was something she most definitely wanted to share. She rarely had crushes of course, she spent so much time on school work and stories to really experience dating and here she was, imagining scenarios of her reading him her favorite book as they snuggled on the couch.

Her mind wandered back to the illusion episode she had in the car, it came out of nowhere but left her hot and heavy. The hands seemed to know where to go on her body as if they'd done it so many times before

A yawn escaped her plump lips getting comfortable underneath the warm blankets, now all she had to do was get a few more hours of sleep before-,

Her phone started to go off, the ringtone blaring to life with the three women's voices taking over singing ‘Soldier’. A groan left her lips as she slugged her arm over to grab the phone from the nightstand. The screen blinded her as the contact read ‘Lord Witwicky >:(‘ appeared with three text messages.

With a sigh (Y/n) answered, praying he wasn’t calling her to tell her about a dream he had about Mikaela.

“Yes Sam-”

“(Y-Y/n)! I need you to bike down to the end of your block right now! M-My car is being stolen-they're about to pass your street!” Sam's breathing sounded panicked and out of breath, he let out a yelp as the phone shuffled a bit.

“Whoa-wait that doesn't make any sense?!,” She was already putting on her shoes, forgetting the shorts and tank she had on before dashing outside to her black bike, “Why did you call me-Call the police!”

“I did! You try to speak to the police-when you can barely breath! It's been so long since I've biked this much I’m out of shape,”

She biked down to the end of her street and sure enough the black and yellow camaro drove full speed ahead, deciding to follow she made a full dash behind them. The windows were oddly tinted from what she could tell but it didn't make sense due to the fact they were not the few times she was in the car.

Sam soon caught up with her, their speed wasn’t as fast as the vehicle ,but they were able to keep on its tail the whole entire time. Her breathing was labored as they passed many streets in pursuit of the speeding vehicle, it was a miracle for the robber that the streets were clear this time of night. It wasn’t long before the pursuit led them onto private property, the car rammed right through the gate without mercy.

(Y/n) stopped as Sam kept biking on through the gate, “Sam! This is private property!”

The boy didn't seem to hear her as he was more focused on retrieving his car. Sam's form disappeared behind the corner of the building , the girl groaned in frustration and followed against her better judgment. She soon caught up with her friend on foot leaving her bike where he left his.

“Sam we have to leave-”

Sam covered her mouth, pointing up at the large emerging figure in front of the powerplant. (Y/n) looked up at the sight before her in great fascination. The robot's form was one to take a gander at. From the clear Chevrolet bust to the wings on the back being the doors. A quirk of a smile made way on her face at the sight before her

Sam ducked down and began recording on his phone, “Hello, My name is Sam Witwicky! I am here with my best friend (Y/n) (L/n)-who ever finds this my car is alive-okay,” He held up the phone to the robot, accidently getting (Y/n)’s curious expression in the process, “I-If this is my last words-I just wanted to say, Mom-Dad I love you and if you find ‘Busties Beauties’ under my bed it wasn’t mine! I'm holding it for Miles! No-no-wait that's not true it's mine-Miles gave it to me I'm sorry! Mojo, I love you.``

Sam hug up the phone and slowly picked himself up from the ground, He grabbed (Y/n) pulling her along from the massive robot shining the light into the night.

Her gaze never left the figure, something inside of her tugged her soul back towards the massive being. The same being from the stories her grandfather told her about each night. It was different from what she'd imagined, but she wasn't disappointed-not one bit. (Y/n) heard they came in a variety of many shapes and sizes, just like humans only their forms were more mechanical and they could live for ages in comparison.

The girl turned her excited gaze back to Sam,“What do you think it was? Pops told me stories about this-” She was cut off with the boy silencing her, it took a moment before she heard it, the low growl of a predator.

The two teens moved slowly, watching the dogs carefully looking for a means of escape; Unfortunately, (Y/n) wasn’t one to dwell with danger, in fact her first response was to run from it. Sam was hot on her heels, the growls of the two dogs growing near with each turn the two took. The two teens jumped and dodge obstacles in the wake, trying to escape the threatening jaws of punishment.

“H-hey! Good Dog! Good Dog-!”

“Shut up Sam! And Run!”

They both ended up in a dead end, both fending for themselves on a large crate to escape the large jaws of disapproval. One ended up biting the girl's shoe, leading to her yelling in panic, Sam tried to grab a hold of her before she could fall. Before the black dog could jump and attack again, the black and yellow car crashed through just in time, Sam never looked more scared in his life as the vehicle circled them drawing away the dogs from earlier.

“H-hey! Please-Please don't kill us! I'm sorry! Here's the keys-you can have em’! Cars all yours!” Sam threw the keys at the car, pulling (Y/n) along with him outside.

(Y/n) froze once the cop car pulled up in front of them, Sam was relieved rushing up to them in panic, “Woah-woah-listen-listen-listen!Good your here!-”

“Let me see your hands!” Both officers immediately pulled both firearms pointing at the two of them, the girl felt bile in her throat, and immediately placed her hands up walking over in compliance.

“Wait-no no no-what you mean? The guys inside-?!”

“Shut up! Put your hands behind your head, and put your head on the hood.” Both of them complied, Sam looked over at his friend noticing her expression. (Y/n)’s eyes were filled with tears, a bitter snarl on her lips as she was handcuffed first beside him. He immediately regretted calling her tonight.

~✯~

The car ride was tense between the two teens as Ron drove (Y/n) home. Their time at the police office was surely interesting, the two cops never let up on her, not once. She's been many things in her life, but never had she been called a drug addict and a thug.

It hurt, it hurt so bad and she never knew those two men in her life. It was the fact it took Sam asking, ‘Why are you guys only questioning her? I'm the one who called!’ for them to finally let up on their verbal abuse. She was so tired and worn out. It left a mental strain to know she actually went to jail, and was arrested for simply trying to help.

Sam shifted awkwardly in his seat, “(Y/n), I’m sorry-”

“Save it,” Her tone was bitter and hurt, a struggled breath left her in trying hard not to cry, “Out of all things I’ve done for you this is the one thing-the one thing I deeply regret.”

The boy looked at her hurt, “You don't mean that-”

“Sam,” Ron tried to shut his son up.

“No-she doesn't mean that! (Y/n) you always said were in it together-”

“When has there been an us as of late!” The Afro headed girl finally snapped, “Every single time you ask for something it's for your benefit! When have you ever done me a favor-!”

“Plenty of times!”

“Name one Samuel!”

Sam paused for a moment, rethinking the last time he actually offered to help her with something. Ron looked at his son in the corner of his eye in frustration, he knew this would somehow come back to bite his son in the ass. The boy sighed against the seat in frustration.

“I-I’m sorry-I didn't realize that I neglected this part of our friendship-”

“You did the moment you let Miles degrade me and keep him around-over and over-This! This is the tip of the iceberg Sam!,” (Y/n) sighed, “You’d rather have any friend to talk to-and any girl to stare at you and caress you without actually making the steps to build something, without thinking of them in a lewd manner-”

“Hey guys-let's not say anything we might regret-”

“I mean every-fucking-word. I've been nothing but a good friend-not only did I give you the car I wanted-but I helped you with a girl who didn't give two shits about you-who-hell-didn't even know your name till sixteen hours ago and I still corrected her-”

“Mikaela doesn't have to do with anything in regards to the conversation-”

“Of course she doesn't! But everytime shes not around and your with me you have to bring her up twenty four seven-”

“Guys-”

“Oh-oh really? You wanna bring that up? How about we talk about how you basically were talking with a stranger and was basically inviting him to fu-”

Ron smacked his son's head before he could finish, but the damage was done, (Y/n) sat back in the seat , tears seeped her lips as she stared out the window. Sam acknowledged his mistake ,and didn't say another word for the rest of the car ride.

Mr. Witwicky dropped the girl off and watched her sad figure walk inside the house, he looked back at Sam, a deep frown placed on his face. “Out of everything to say, you allude to her being a prostitute-”

“She was bashing Mikaela-”

“She wasn’t bashing that girl, and you know it!” Mr Witwicky threw his hands to the roof of the vehicle in frustration, “She was pointing out how you take the things you have for granted, especially your friendship. To be honest I thought you'd grow up and be smart and realize that (Y/n) is the one you should be running after, not some chick who messes with jocks and because she looks like a pornstar,”

Sam looked at the door (Y/n) walked through, the lights were on-signaling her Nana was awake, it was no doubt she would be interrogated. He knew his dad didn’t mean to insult Mikaela, so he let it slide; but he still didn’t like how both of them were right. He did have a habit of chasing after girls who focused more on popular guys than schoolwork.

“She’ll never see me that way, she only has stuck around because we’re all we have-“

“Oh so “friends” wake up at 2 o’clock at night, go on a car chase and get arrested for someone because their friends,” The boy's father was deeply disappointed, watching the girl he watched grow along his son wasn’t something to idle by. (Y/n)’s reputation would be described as pure since middle school and on; However, tonight tainted the innocent record that landed her many scholarships.

“Think about all the things she lost, do you honestly want to take away the one thing she wanted to achieve in life?! Her degree in robotics, her minor in creative writing-“

Sam sighed in frustration, his father didn’t even finish he was so heated with the night of events. It was his first time being arrested along with (Y/n), however it didn’t affect him as much since his father was head of the neighborhood watch.

“I-I couldn't see her that way! I chose to see her as a sister-and whenever I entertained that idea it just seemed wrong!” Sam looked at his dad, a pained expression morphed on his face from the night of events, “I know I'm not the one for her Dad, these past few years proved it. Yesterday, I was so jealous at the thought of another guy stealing what we have with each other, then I realized how toxic I would've been-to keep her single while I kept looking for someone else like her.”

Ron frowned slowly realizing what his son was venting. He knew the answer but decided to ask anyway. “Did you fall in love with her and give up?”

Sams face twisted and turned his head out the window once more, the night sky suddenly looked more interesting, “Why continue to chase after someone when they deserve the moon, and you simply can’t give it to them,”

~✯~

The two women were silent as they looked at eachother, it was overwhelming to say the least. (Y/n) had expected to see a belt, her laptop and favorite belongings on full display in front of Nana awaiting her punishment. Instead she wasn't seeing any of that, her grandmother simply sat on the sofa with her hands in her lap staring up at her with worried eyes.

She stood in the living room, tears running down her face, her twists were in a disheveled bun from the night of events and her pajamas were dirty. Her Nana gave her a once over, spotting the scrap on the girl's knee that wasn't banaged. You’d think the girl would have noticed her injury, she guessed the adrenaline as she ran from the dogs made up for it.

A sharp inhale caused (Y/n) to flinch, much to her grandmother's dismay, “You don't have to be so tense, I talked with Ron on the phone. I know it wasn't your fault sweetheart,” The older woman stood up from the sofa and waved a hand gesturing towards the kitchen. “Let's fix you up, then you can tell me your side of the story.”

(Y/n) stood still in the doorway, a sharp needle of anxiety pierced her heart, “You're not mad? Or disappointed-?”

“Not mad, just worried. And the only way I would have been disappointed was if you hadn’t complied when told to-that would have put you in more danger.”

The two of them made their way to the kitchen, the light in the room seemed to calm her down for the most part but she was still unsettled from everything that had happened. She couldn’t forget the words the men had spoken to her in such a derogatory manner. (Y/n) normally would’ve rolled it off her shoulder, but something about tonight hit her like a storm.

‘We get girls like you in this seat all the time, star students by day-druggies by night’

‘Such a shame, we've got nothing but good things about you on file. It seems everyone has a devil inside them-’

‘What do you expect? Their kind is more susceptible to the life of crime anyway. Especially females, they love the rush of a thug being their man-ain’t that right girl?’

The second cop was so racist to a point where she didn't understand. The other one was treating her and Sam to the same treatment where the other was just so discriminatory. She's sure a good bath and drowning herself in movies would help, after all it wasn't like racism didn't exist; everywhere- even on cybertron that's how she learned about the subject anyway-especially with Nana's concerns of her going to middle school not knowing about the subject.

(Y/n) flinched as her grandmother cleaned the cut, she felt like a little girl again watching how she carefully cleaned the cut with peroxide before dabbing on some neosporin. If she wasnt so traumatized she'd be convinced she had just fallen off her bike after learning for the first time. Pop’s carrying her back in the house as she sucked on a popsicle through blurry eyes of frustration.

“You're lucky it was just grazed, nothing too deep,” Her Nana placed a kiss over the band-aid before putting the medical supplies away, “Now do you wanna tell me why you chased after that vehicle?”

The girl let out a shaky breath before starting the disgruntled tale. Her grandmother had fixed herself tea as she listened, sometimes she would interrupt and ask questions; ‘How tinted were the windows?’ ‘Could you see the driver?’ ‘Did the motor sound weird?’. It wasn’t long before she paused mid story when she accidentally spilled that they saw something, Nana gazed at her telling to continue, but her mouth became dry. Her grandmother didn't react well last time when she mentioned the insignia, how was she supposed to tell her about the robot she saw? She could hardly believe it herself from what her own eyes had captured.

“You-you wouldn’t believe me anyway-”

“Try me,” The cup was sat down, the kind gaze never wavering as she looked at her, “Me and your grandfather have seen and experienced many things (Y/n), that many people wouldn't believe unless they've seen it for themselves.”

A nervous laugh erupted from her tired lips, she hardly believed what she said next, “Sam's car turned into a giant robot.” She laughed again, but this time it was sad as tears rolled down.

Then it hit her, whatever it was-the anxiety never left this time instead it boiled. Her mind couldn't take it-she was so tired. The sight that she had seen tonight was the one thing she had wanted to see since she was so young. She promised to help them-to fight alongside them in the war and achieve many victories for their cause. And here she was years later, and she didn't know if she believed it, or if she had simply gone mad after her grandfather died.

Whether it was the lost part of innocence tonight or wishful thinking, she never wanted that escape again more in her life, she missed it. The effortless journals she’d write of going on adventures, fighting, living a life as that character everyone loved and wanted to be. All of it, was it pointless?

“-Sweetheart?”

“I'm going to bed-I-Im sorry for lying, Nana. We only saw the burglars abandon it, nothing more.”

(Y/n) left the kitchen her form shaking and disgruntled, as her Nana sat at the table watching her leave. The older woman sighed, rolling her eyes before getting up and heading towards her room. A liar is not what (Y/n) is, her Nana knew. What emerged from her granddaughter's mouth was nothing but the truth.

Robots-no Cybertronians are a special case.

Their whole family knew the truth except the girl in the other room, sometimes (GM/N) wondered why they never told her the truth before (GD/N) died. Sure, it was best to keep her innocent for a while but after what she saw tonight only means she'll soon be tossed into something she never bargained for.

Nana took the box from the high shelf from the right side of the closet where her late husband stored his belongings. The box was a bit worn and dusty, but the contents were safe. She hugged the box close to her chest and sent a quick prayer.

Afterall, her granddaughter was going to need it.

~✯~

To many teenagers work was a chore they hated to get up and get ready for this time of day, but as far as this aspiring protagonist goes, she loved waking up in the morning and heading to her family's library. With her finals being done in comparison to Sam, she's able to take up earlier shifts than normal. Luckily Grace was willing to switch morning shifts with her this morning much to her pleasure.

It was around nine am giving her enough time to organize the return pile by genre and author. It was a nice ritual to get her mind off of the past few days, don't get her wrong; there were moments she'd mess with the band aid on her knee, or simply sipped her coffee anxiously as a police car drove by the large window. She didn't want to think about that night, and if she did she only wanted to think about one thing; the cybertronian.

It started to feel wrong to call them a robot after all she knew what the species were called. It was no secret to her family about the stories and now-truth be told she started to gain the suspension. They were not just stories. She thought long and hard about how gentle her grandmother was with her yesterday, she kept glancing at her as if she had something to tell her-just don't know how. Not to even mention she sat by the phone expecting Sam to call her-why she didn't know. (Y/n) just wanted the reassurance that they were still friends-family even.

(Y/n) placed the last neat pile over near the horror section, it had been quite popular the past few weeks after they hosted that horror book night last october-it was her idea for a fundraiser and it was highly successful. The only takeaway was hunting people who forget to return them. In the corner of her eye she watched her Nana walk out of the break room with a steaming cup and a cinnamon roll from the bakery next door.

If She had been a bit more considerate of herself this morning she might have gotten one as well, they were nice and soft, the icing smooth and sickenly sweet if eaten too fast. She had to think long and hard about where she was going to eat lunch.

(Y/n) finished her morning ritual in the library with ease, once she was sure everything was in order she was able to help out at the front. Some were familiar faces, others were simply students from other schools returning books required for the curriculum of english. It was all worth it; after the familiar face strolled in her heart began to thump anxiously, whereas her hands were suddenly busy in her coils.

The black haired boy looked around for a moment before locking eyes with her own. It didn't take but a minute before he flashed a smile heading in her direction, the others in the library seemed irrelevant at the moment in comparison to the male who remembered her quick words that day. He looked nice; His shirt was black with vertical white and yellow stripes down his chest, and he wore black jeans with a subtle chain on the hip. His converse were a bit dirty like hers, but in her mind all shoes were meant to be replaced after a while.

“So this is the famous (L/n) library,” Bee smiled brightly, he did another once over causing her heart to warm with his excited eyes, “I’m impressed! You own the place so young?”

She laughed, “No, it's a family business! It’s been here for more than sixty-eight years.”

He whistled low, the charm he had was starting to take effect. She licked her lips nervously as he took a gander at the ceiling, it was a renaissance styled painting with her family's stories. There were many robots stylized to show which were good, evil, and simply trying to survive crossfire. His eyes seemed to land on one figure specifically, a large sword was in the figures hands, they were leaner with a female build with an angular frame. What stood out so much was the male human by her side.

Blue eyes went back on her form, something glimmered for a second before a carefree look took on his features. He paused for a moment, looking behind her, she followed his gaze seeing that Nana was looking at the boy. It was a moment where (Y/n) could see them talking with their eyes, another moment passed before her grandmother smiled, turning to her.

“(Y/n) who is this? A New friend?”

The girl bit her lip looking over at a Bee, he seemed to be awaiting her answer, “Y-yeah, we met at the park last Friday. He was very nice,”

The boy seemed to approve of her answer, “Hello my name is Bee,”

“Hello Bee, Im (Y/n)’s grandmother (G/N), but you can call me Nana,” Nana smiled at her new friend, placing the new stack of history books on the desk to be organized later. “You're actually in luck, my sweetheart is on break! She'd love to hang out with you a bit.”

“What? But-”

“That's great! I'd love to hear more about the paintings above and the histories about them.” The black haired smiled.

Her Nana pushed her from behind the desk quickly, urging her to talk to the boy before them. (Y/n) grabbed her grandfather's notebook from the top counter, this one was the history about the library, in chapter two it gives short summaries about the paintings above. She’d tell her friend about the summary and they tell him what she remembered about the story to the best of her ability.

(Y/n) led Bee to the comfortable part of the library, in the far corner there was a circular table with two arm chairs. It was her favorite spot for breaks. They both sat down, she couldn’t help but notice how the boy felt up and down with the fabric as if it were foreign to him.

“Is it not comfortable?” She questioned quietly with a frown. Bee flinched with her question, planching his hands on his knees.

“No-no it's very comfortable-im just not used to the feeling,” He answered with a bit of nerves in his tone. “I'm sorry if I've offended you-”

“No you haven't, I just wanted to make sure my new friend was comfortable,” She offered a kind smile to ease him of his worries.

She gave him a once over, he did clean up nicely from the last time she saw him, however she couldn’t help but pause at his neck. There was a prominent scare on the right side, she couldn't believe she had never seen it before. If there was one way of describing it, it would be a star that she gazed at each night before going to bed, it rested right near the vocal cords.

“So about the femme-female in the middle, what story do you have for her my dear storyteller?”

(Y/n) actually let out a giggle, “Storyteller? Is that my new nickname?”

Bee hummed, “No you deserve something better, but that's what you do right? You tell amazing stories and draw people in.”

“Well yes, but it's only fun doing it. It's not like it'll be a job for me to do in the near future.”

The boy cocked an eyebrow, which apparently has a slit, “Why not?”

“It simply won’t pay the bills. As an aspiring author or writer you have to be smart, you have to have another area of profession to feed yourself until everything takes off.”

He nodded in understanding, “I see. I wouldn’t rule this out of your life forever. You do such a good job as is,” He scooted the chair closer once the girl flipped through the pages of the book. He seemed more preoccupied with staring at her than the varying pictures. “So what are you gonna read to me today?”

(Y/n) smiled, “The summary of Merlin’s Female knight. I’ll have to get to know you more before I tell you the full tale. These are our family stories.”

“Seems fair,”

The girl inhaled before starting the summary.

“During the dark ages of Merlin, a variety of knights were introduced from the planet Cybertron. With these knights came a new era of acceptance with humans; they fought many wars and formed many alliances. However with the new era the knights acknowledged something needed to be changed with predacons as well. A few of these predacons were highly intelligent femmes pledging their loyalty to the cause. Three knights took the predacons as sparkmates, leading to the next generation. One of these femmes was named-“

(Y/n)s words faltered as she felt Bee's breath on the nape of her neck. She finally took notice of how close he’d gotten. His hand was close to hers, slightly brushing as she flipped the page again. She was reading the words in English, skipping over the cybertronian language she’s grown to learn.

A hand clasped hers urgently, she paused on the page she was about to skip, the pages were filled with the foreign symbols. She looked at him, his mouth was moving as he scanned the page.

‘He can read it?!’

“You can read it? How can you-“

“I-I’m sorry I have to go.” The boy removed his hand from hers, the warmth that enveloped her body was gone; she was so tempted to frown right there. She stormed after him, questions filling her mind with urgency. It’s been so long since she had someone who understood the language other than her grandparents.

“Wha-what? Why? What did I do-?” Bee cut her off by grabbing her hands in his once more. He stared at her, his eyes were worried and deeply struggled to communicate.

“You haven't done anything. (Y/n) I know I haven't done anything to deserve your trust ,but I’m going to need you to trust me,” His frown seemed almost natural on his face as if he was more accustomed to the expression. It spoke volumes to her. “I promise, to explain later sweetspark okay?”

The girl nodded a bit, flustered from the boy using the tongue it took her many years to accomplish. He had her trust by just speaking the language. With the nod of confirmation, he made haste out the front doors. When she tried to watch him leave, he was already gone.

It was two hours after the boy left and oddly enough (Y/n) felt as if a huge weight was lifted off her chest in regards to the events that have happened lately. She could still feel the warmth of his hands against hers as she turned the pages.

It felt as if the hands on their own could tell stories, along with the scar of the left side of his neck. The intimate thoughts she had earlier returned, her lips would graze each scar with sweet whispers; (Y/n) could hear his playful tone teasing her for being so bold, yet so sweet with his battle wounds.

She paused for a minute at the thought-when had she decided the scars came from battle or even a war. Something about her intuition was going off, whether it was the sinking feeling at the thought of him being so young on the front lines, or the fact he had to keep such secrets of his injuries to himself. (Y/n) shook her head before closing the book, deciding it was time to clock out.

Grace had already clocked in thirty minutes ago and was ready to take over. Now all she needed was her book bag and-. A loud commotion of a familiar voice suddenly filled the space of the library much to her dismay, she hoped it wasn't her Nana reminding her not to work overtime and to relax. However, when she turned the corner from one of the isles she was met with an erratic and panicked Witwicky.

“Sam! What the hell is your problem?! This is a library-!” (Y/n) was suddenly embraced by Sam, his form was shaky and he had labored breaths. She didn't get to ask questions about it, as she was already being led outside the library with her bookbag in hand.

“We’re being followed by the car,” Sam spoke quickly, he grabbed her bike from the rack and pushed it towards her. She finally took notice of the fact he was riding his mom's bike, normally she would’ve laughed but at the moment she sunk in the situation at hand.

“Did you just say the car is following us?” The question rolled off her tongue with ease, it sounded excited, no hint of worry in sight. It scared her afterwards with how quick she got happy with the thought of the alien following them.

“Yes-it followed me home! Then when I biked here to get away, it followed me-only it didn’t take the same route, it took a faster one and parked behind the building. It knows where you work!” He hopped on the bike, (Y/n) doing the same quickly with her own, as anxiety rolled down her spine.

The two teens biked down the street quickly, it wasn't long before the sound of a roaring engine sped up right behind them-the game of cat and mouse being reversed from the other day. The girl didn't dare to look back, Sam did enough for the both of them combined. Judging from the way her friend was panting in panic she could only assume the car was close. They both decided to bike through a park, Sam was so focused on his escape from the vehicle to notice the uneven concrete in the midst of their path.

It was a domino effect, Sam flipped himself landing on his back with a pained groan. (Y/n) let out a yelp and tried to swerve the bike in time but ended up losing her balance and falling off. She bit back a whine from the new found scrapes and bruises on her elbow and right knee.

“Sam? (Y/n)?” A familiar voice called out to the two of them. Sam looked to his right to find Mikeala and her friends looking at them. A few were giggling and whispering while looking in (Y/n)’s direction, none of them had ever seen the girl flawed before. The teen always made sure to be poised in all conditions, however seeing the girl fall off her bike nearing tears was something to boost their egos.

“Hi,” He mustered awkwardly with a groan, whereas (Y/n) simply waved a hand clutching her arm.

“Um t-that was uh-that was really…..awesome,” The girl managed to ease up the situation, “Are you two okay?”

“N-no I'm not-alright? I'm losing my mind. My car is chasing us,” Sam bit out straightening his bike. He looked over at (Y/n) taking in her injury, her steps faltered a bit due to the pressure placed on her knee. Sam quickly helped her onto her bike, his hands rested on her hips longer than they should’ve though. “We gotta go.”

Mikaela noticed (Y/n)’s look of anguish for a moment before turning back to her friends, “Hey I'm gonna catch up with you guys later.” About the time the brunet made it to her Vespa the two friends were already on the move once more.

(Y/n)’s balance swayed here and there, her head was throbbing and her elbow hurt to bend. She was lagging behind, the car seemed to notice, as each time it got to close it started to slow down its pace giving her enough time to bike through each light.

Thankfully they finally found a place to stop, (Y/n) led the way underneath the interstate bridges where many cars were parked. She gestured to Sam to follow her, they had found a nice hiding spot for a moment,watching the car speed past. The two friends looked at each other before letting out a breath of relief.

“Are you okay? How's your arm?” Sam gently grabbed the girl's arm, trying to extend it a bit to make sure nothing was broken. (Y/n) winced a bit, fighting back tears, it wasn't that bad, she was sure it'd feel better later.

The silence was soon interrupted by a familiar siren, shaking the girl to her core. Sam on the other hand was relieved, he whispered a soft ‘stay here’ before moving from their hiding spot. Her breathing became labored, the foreign chill of metal on her wrists became a new fear. They couldn’t be arrested again, they couldn't!

“Officer!Listen-” Sam let out a pained yelp as the car door hit him, knocking him off the bike with one fell swoop. (Y/n) gasped, she suddenly forgot how to breath suddenly as she watched her friend wither on the ground.

“Offi-Listen to me! Thank god! My friend and I have had the worst day ever! We've been followed here-on my mothers and her grandmother's bike! Right?! And My cars right there-and it's been following me-us here! so-so get out of the car!” Right after Sam slammed his hands on the police vehicle it started to drive forward, knocking Sam off his feet and onto the ground. “Woah stop-!Okay-Okay!I'm sorry! Im Sorry! I'm sorry I hit your car!”

“Stop!” (Y/n) raced from her hiding spot, she tried to step between Sam and the vehicle. She kicked the hood showing she had enough of the abuse of power displayed. She however paused once the vehicle's headlights popped out, sharp metal sticking out around the lights sending a chill down her body. She soon looked at the side of the car, her body running cold; ‘to punish and enslave’.

“Run. Sam run!” She grabbed her friend, helping him on his feet; it was just in time too, she soon heard the sound of shifting metal behind her. The rise of bile was heavy in her throat as she pushed Sam to run faster.

“Oh Shit! Oh Shit!” Sam screamed as he made a turn through the rubble of trash. “What the hell is that?!”

“A Decepticon! Here on earth?!” The girl cried to herself, she was pretty sure her subconscious mind answered for her. She had never seen a Decepticon in person, but the way the con was chasing them with a threatening aura she was so sure.

Before she could get them to make another turn she felt herself flying through the air before making impact with the windshield of a car. She heard Sam scream her name, only for him to fall on top of her a second later. She made a move to push the boy off only to scream instead once the con pulled out a chainsaw for a hand, slamming it on the side of the car.

Out of all the questions she had running through her mind as to why the con wanted them only one was answered, and it was one of the most threatening ways of answering.

“Are you username Ladiesman217?! And are you Storyteller (Y/n) (L/n)?!”

The two teens looked at eachother frightened, “Yea”

“Where are the glasses! And the books of Luna One!”

#bumblebee x black reader #bumblebee x reader #transformers bayverse #transformers #transformers optimus #transformers x reader #black reader #Spotify

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danceswithsporks · 1 year

Text

Calm- Part 1

Part 2 of 6 in the Complete Series!

Wrecker x Seamstress Reader

Warning this fic will contain spoilers for the season 2 finale.

Story About: You love how calm and peaceful your life on Pabu is. When trajedy strikes the island, a handsome clone pulls you into his world and you discover there’s more to the Galaxy then you realize.

Chapter About: A tsunami shakes the island and you require the help of someone strong to help you out.

Authors note: Well here we are everyone!! Calm is finally here! I’ve honestly been a bit nervous to post this first part, kinda worried that it won’t be as good as Warm, but I still want to give y’all a great story. So I hope the wait was worth it!

Also! Here is a height comparison reference to put into perspective Wreckers height. I’m basing the other persons size off of the average height for women so feel free to alter that however you want! But damn is our boy TALL!

Now. Without further ado! Here’s the opening chapter to Calm!

Calm, that’s how you’d describe Pabu. The weather was always perfect, save for a rare storm every few months, and the waves always crashed against the rocks of the island in a calming rhythm. Standing on the patio of your shop in upper Pabu, you could easily watch the fishing boats on the horizon bob up and down against the waves while the sun silhouetted them. You were born here, raised on the sea life brought in daily by the fishermen. While others had escaped whatever horrors they experienced out there in the galaxy by coming here, you’d learned to walk on these cobblestones. Scraped your knees in the plaza at the top of the island and learned to swim in the bay on the back of the island.

While others had brought their businesses with them when they immigrated to Pabu, like the tea shop family or the sweet girl who ran the inn, your shop had been there for generations. Your grandmother had opened it when she immigrated from Coruscant and then passed it to your mom, who passed it to you. While your parents had decided to stay in Pabu, your aunt on her side had moved back to Coruscant. Determined to bring fashion and style to Pabu, though those trends were far above what anyone would want to wear here. She was doing well for herself there and had offered for you to live there countless times. But you loved Pabu and loved how calm it was here. You wouldn’t trade this peace for anything in the Galaxy.

You stood at the stone wall of your patio and looked down as another boat left the port. It was the Chief's boat, his daughter, and the blonde girl you’d seen walking around earlier the only passengers. From the whispers of the elder women who helped in your shop, the ship that had arrived carrying Phee had been filled with clones. You’d seen them briefly as they walked by, the three men were unique in their sizes and looks, weren’t clones supposed to look the same? Briefly, the large one had turned his face and stared for a moment before he continued, and oh how your heart fluttered for a moment. The shoulders alone on him had your mind swimming with ideas, you liked a big boy.

The glass of water next to you trembled against the stone and you stood back with a confused look on your face. That…didn’t seem right. All around you the wildlife screeched and scattered away from lower Pabu and towards the top. Well, that wasn’t normal either. You stepped away from the wall and made your way back inside. “Animals are acting weird.” Left you nonchalantly as you made your way back to the gown you were working on.

“What do you mean by that, dear?” One of the elder women, Magda, looked up from the quilt she’d been knitting.

“After that little shake, they started rushing toward the top of the island. Sea birds took off too.” You walked over to the woman and looked over the blue and gray quilt she was almost finished with. How she did it was beyond you. Sitting there and knitting the same rows over and over again for hours a day seemed so monotonous. To your surprise, the woman looked up at you seriously. “What?”

“What did the water look like?” Sue, another of the elder woman who worked with you, asked. The pants she’d been hemming, were now left forgotten.

“Like water?” The ground shook once more and you suddenly felt a wave of dread wash over you. Maybe you should go check the water? The memory of something you’d learned in school ran through your mind. Stepping outside, you realized something was very wrong. All across your patio were countless moon-yos, their large eyes staring down toward the water. It took you a moment to shuffle your way towards the wall once more but when you did, your heart jumped to your throat. “Tsunami”

The water of the sea receded away from the shore and before you could even scream for those around you to run, the warning system roared across the island. In theory, you would be safe up here, right? In school, they’d told you that the waters wouldn’t get as high as upper Pabu. It was lower Pabu that could be wiped away completely. Already you could see those below rushing upwards. “Ladies! Time to go!” You made your way back inside and found Magda and Sue continuing with their work. “We need to go.”

“Oh darling, don’t fret. The waters won’t reach us here. The last time we had one of these lower Pabu was only partially destroyed.” Sue waved you off as she stuck another pin in the cuff of the pants.

You grimaced at her in uncertainty. “Yeah, I’d rather be safe than sorry. Let’s go.” You shooed the two women eagerly and after another ‘Let’s go’, they finally got up. Following behind them, you made sure to lock the door of your business. As cute as the moon-yos were, you’d rather they not seek shelter within your inventory.

“Grandma!”

“Mom!”

The families of your two helpers rushed towards all three of you and sighed in relief.

“They were giving you lip about leaving, weren’t they?” Sue’s daughter rushed to her mother's side and wrapped a shawl around her shoulders.

“You know how they get. Nothing I couldn’t handle though.” More people rushed up the path and you silently thanked your parents for adding on the enclosed patio. Without it, you’d all be overtaken by the crowds in no time.

“We would have been fine.” Magda waved off her granddaughter's extended hand. “The waters never come this high.”

Blue eyes rolled as the granddaughter, Lacey, crossed her arms. “Grandma, you know the Chiefs rule. Everyone heads to the top just in case.”

Magda scoffed as you walked behind her, shooing her and the others towards the main road. “How would you know about these rules? You weren’t even alive when the last one happened!”

Lacey slid her arm around her grandmother and helped steady her as people rushed by. “They teach us about it in school, grandma. Plus we just had a drill last month.”

“Did we?” A humph left Magda as she looked around at the crowds.

Shaking your head, you continued to herd your little group upwards. You felt like you were herding cattle with the way you were moving around your group to keep them all together. All around you, people were rushing towards the top of the island. The island shook as the large wave finally hit and your group staggered for a moment before resuming your hike up the mountain. Everyone around you seemed to freeze and while you wanted to turn back and look as well, the two elder women in front of you seemed to be spurred on and were now rushing to the top.

By the time you and your group had reached the top of the island, people had begun to settle down. Across the courtyard you could see the chief speaking with the men from before, Phee standing close by. A part of you wondered what was being discussed, but Magda drew your attention instead.

“There weren’t as many survivors the last time this happened. My mother was lost.” She looked around at the groups of people huddled together.

“I’m sorry to hear that.” Your group continued your path toward the Archium. You could see more of the elders settled down with their families. To think this could be their second or third or even fourth sea surge was wild to you.

“Last time we didn’t have the wall to protect us.” Sue shooed her daughter away as the girl fussed over her once more. “But the needs are still the same afterward.”

You tilted your head as you finally arrived at the Archium. “What do you mean?” You offered your hand to Sue and helped her sit against one of the arches next to the building.

“People have lost their homes, their livelihoods. They have nothing now. They’ll need places to stay and supplies to get through these next weeks.” Magda sat with a huff next to Sue.

You squatted back on your heels and began to chew your lip. “Supplies, huh?” A hum left you as you thought for a moment before an idea began to form. “If I got the supplies, do you think you and the others could make some blankets, clothes, stuff like that?” You watched as the two women looked at each other and then the others around you for a moment before nodding.

“Bring us whatever you can, we’ll get those who know how to knit and sew together and begin working.” Magda hummed as she leaned back against the wall, her eyes closing. “For now, I think I’ll take a nap.”

“Sounds like we have a plan. I’m gonna go talk to Shep and see what he thinks.” With a slap on your thighs, you stood and made your way across the courtyard. Passing by the tree you noticed many people resting in the small patch of grass. Pausing for a moment, you looked at everyone settling in and smiled at the sight of the large clone from earlier and the small girl that was with him curled against each other. A part of you began to wonder if she was his daughter, if somewhere out in the galaxy he had a wife. You could have sworn you’d heard something about clones aging fast, but who knew how accurate that was? People were always saying things that weren’t true.

Someone called your name and with a final look at the large man, you made your way to the source. “Shep, Phee. Good to see you two made it out ok!” You smiled happily as you hugged Phee who looked you over quickly.

“Everyone from the shop make it out ok?” Phee watched as you nodded and then motioned toward your group. “Took some convincing but I got them up here.”

“Phee” One of the clones from earlier, the one with a face tattoo, a bold choice but who were you to judge? “Tech and I talked it over and we think we’re gonna stay. If you’ll have us?”

“Yes!” You covered your mouth quickly as soon as the words left you. All eyes turned to you and you chuckled quickly. “Sorry. It’s just that extra help will be needed. They look strong and capable. Plus with their ship, it would be helpful to get supplies from the other islands. Which brings me to why I’m here.”

Shep crossed his arms and chuckled. “Let’s get some introductions out of the way first.” He motioned to the two clones. “Tech and Hunter, meet one of the island's seamstresses.”

You finished the introduction for him, letting the two know your name, before extending your hand to each of them. “Nice to meet you both.” Smiling, you nodded towards the tree. “Saw your other two friends sleeping over there.”

“That would be our sister Omega and our brother Wrecker.” Tech adjusted his goggles and looked past you and towards his siblings before his gaze shifted toward the woman he’d just been hanging over the ledge with.

So she was his sibling and not his child. That sent a surprising wave of relief over you. “Wow, unique names.” You chuckled as the men shrugged.

“You said you were here for a reason?” Phee wrapped her arm around Techs shoulder and drew his attention back to the conversation. He was practically drooling over the tea shop owner.

“Ah, right!” With a clap of your hands, you told the group your idea. “I have more than enough stock to supply the ladies with. We should be able to get a few blankets and basic clothing out of that. I can call my suppliers on the other islands as well and see if they can spare anything.”

“You’d do that?” Phee watched as you shrugged with a smile. “Of course. A community stands together through all the good and bad. Mom said that all the time.”

“We’ll find a way to pay you back for the supplies.” Shep reached over and grabbed your shoulder gently. He was glad to see you stepping into the same role your mother used to have. So many times she’d stepped in and taken care of refugees arriving with nothing. To see you helping in the same way was heartwarming.

Smiling, you shook your head and patted his hand. “Don’t worry about it, Shep. I’m just glad to help. Which is something I will need to get everything over here, some of the bolts of fabric can be pretty heavy.”

Phee nodded with a smirk. “I’m sure our new friends here will be happy to help.” With a slap to Tech's back, she caused the clone to stumble slightly before he regained his footing and adjusted his goggles.

“Indeed. Allow us to get Omega settled and we will be available to help.” He tapped at his datapad a few times. “It seems the seismic activity is subsiding. I estimate the waters will recede fully in approximately two days. However, a more pressing matter needs to be addressed.”

“What’s that?” Hunter looked over Tech's shoulder and at the datapad. His eyes ran over the information on the screen and he quickly understood the problem. “Your water is most likely contaminated. That’s gonna need to be figured out quickly. Make sure your people know not to drink anything not already bottled or in containers.”

A long breath was released from you as your hands found their way to your hips. “Well, I’ll let you guys handle that. I’m gonna let my group know and then head to my shop.”

The two clones, Phee and Shep all nodded to you before you turned and headed back to your small group. You let them know the current plan as well as the new information about the water. Lacey took on the job of spreading the word to the others about the water and agreed to look for others to help with the clothing. Satisfied that everything was under control, you headed back to your shop.

-*-

The moon-yo’s had done a number on your patio, fruit and other ‘gifts’ were scattered across the ground. With a sigh, you sidestepped some of the mess and made your way to the stone wall, and looked down at the calming waters that now covered the lower half of your island. The buildings below the waves would survive, they were built sturdy and with the possibility of a tsunami in mind. But everything inside, people’s belongings and prized possessions, would be gone. You realized at that moment how lucky you were to live in upper Pabu. Your home would almost always be safe and secured here. The wall from which you now looked over would always protect your beloved home and generations of hard work and memories. You’d do all you could to help those affected by the tsunami.

The squeak of the gate drew your attention away from the sea. Turning to greet the new arrival, you smiled brightly. “I was hoping they’d send you.”

Wrecker had finally fallen asleep beneath the large tree, his precious sister safe and sound beside him, when he felt Hunter shake his shoulder. With a groan, he’d tried to quietly pull himself away from the small blonde who woke for a moment before settling back into a restless sleep once more. His Vod had quickly filled him in on what was currently happening and before he had a chance to ask for a rations stick, he was so kriffing hungry, he was sent off to find the island seamstress who needed help.

What he hadn’t expected to find was the woman he’d passed earlier in the day looking over the edge of the island wall. Unafraid and unconcerned by the height. It had been the smile on her lips that had caught his attention earlier, for the briefest of moments he found himself lost in them. But then Omega had drawn his attention away from the woman and he’d quickly been distracted. That smile had stayed in the back of his mind though. Now he was staring at that smile once more. “You were hoping they’d send me?”

You nodded as you stepped forward and extended your hand to him, your name falling from your lips as you watched him shake your hand back. “I was. Gonna need someone tall and strong to get some bolts of fabric down. You seem to fit that bill perfectly.”

“O-oh.” Wrecker watched as your hand practically vanished inside his, your name rolling around in his mouth like a piece of candy. “Glad I can help.” He smiled as he released your hand and waited for you to lead the way inside. Instead, you turned and headed back towards the wall. After a moment of looking down, you looked over your shoulder at him and motioned for him to join you. Swallowing the fear already building inside him, he made his way over.

“Crazy how so much can change in the blink of an eye.” You hummed softly as you crossed your arms and leaned against the wall, your eyes skimming the ocean for any boats.

Wrecker stood a few steps away from the wall and focused on you instead. How your curves moved with your body as you found a comfortable position to lean against the wall in. He took in the way your hair was pulled up and away from your face, a multicolored hair clip holding the strands in place against the back of your head. It looked soft, Wrecker wondered what it would feel like sliding through his thick fingers. Your voice pulled him from his thoughts and he nodded carefully. “Happens more often than you think.” He’d experienced that a lot lately.

Looking over your shoulder at him once more, you found him more steps than expected away from you. “What are you doing over there? I won’t bite.” You smirked playfully at him. “Unless you’re into that.” A blush crept across his cheeks and you bit your lip. Oh, he was cute.

“I..well…” Wrecker tried to find the right words to explain that he wasn’t a fan of heights, but then you made the comment about biting and he felt his head swim for a moment. Were you flirting with him? Him of all people? You giggled while turning to face him. He watched as you placed your hands behind you and boosted yourself up onto the wall, your back now facing the wide sea. “You should be careful.” It left him quicker than he intended.

“Don’t worry, Wrecker.” You purred his name as you leaned back a little and allowed a warm breeze to dance around you. “I’ve been doing this since I was a little girl. Now please, come closer?”

Your hand raised to him, beckoning for him to come closer to you and to the edge. “You could fall.” Was spoken carefully as he took a tentative step closer. Come on, Wrecker. A cute girl is flirting with you and calling you closer. The little voice inside his head was screaming at him to get the lead out of his boots and move all the way to the wall.

A happy hum came from you as you watched him take another step closer. Was he afraid of the ledge? “I guess it’s a good thing you’re here then. If I f-“ The island shook once more and due to the way you were balancing on one hand, you lost your balance and began to fall backwards.

“No!” Wrecker shot forward and grabbed your wrist quickly before pulling you against him and holding you tight, grounding you both to the island with his large frame. The tremor lasted for only a few seconds and when it finally ended he realized he’d squeezed his eyes shut.

Your heart felt like it was in your damn throat! Maybe he did have a point. The tightness in which he was holding you wasn’t painfully tight, which was surprising given his size, it was pretty nice. Against his body like this, you felt so small. Like a child hugging her father. Tilting your head back to look up at him, you realized he had to be at least six foot six. Stars, how could a man be so tall and so stacked? You noticed his eyes screwed tightly shut and with a little wiggle, you were able to free one of your arms and place it against his chest. “As I was saying, if I fall, you’ll be here to catch me.” Standing on your tiptoes, you tried to place a kiss on his cheek. But you were far too short to reach him.

Wrecker heard you clear your throat as he finally opened his eyes. Your hand patted his chest gently and he hoped you couldn’t feel his heart racing. Looking down at you he smirked, you were so little against him. He watched as you bit your lip and curled your finger up at him, beckoning for him to lean down. “Yes?”

With a happy hum, you closed the distance between you two and placed a lingering kiss against his cheek. “Thank you for saving me, Wrecker.” His hand around your back loosened and you used the opportunity to wiggle free from him. “Come on, let’s get you something to eat.”

His hand raised to his cheek as he watched you bounce away and towards your shop. It didn’t go unnoticed to him that your breasts bounced with your movements. “Wait, how did you know I was hungry?”

“I felt your stomach rumble against my chest just a few moments ago.” With a wink, you headed inside your shop.

When you said you felt it in your chest, did you mean your boobs? The thought made his cheeks flush once more while something stirred below the belt. More importantly, you were going to feed him? Wrecker quickly followed you into your shop. Maybe he could flirt back?

-*-

Compared to him, your shop was small and intimate. He had to duck to enter the shop and had to be even more careful not to knock over a stack of boxes near the door. You disappeared behind a curtain while the large clone tried to find a place to wait without being in your way. Wrecker liked how your shop smelled, it reminded him of incense and the tea Tech made. He hummed softly as he leaned against the wall, it was comfortable and warm in the shop. No doubt he could easily fall asleep here. “S-so you make clothes?”

“Yeah!” Your voice carried from behind the curtain. “My family’s been in the business for generations.” Opening a jar on the counter, you pulled out a few of the cookies you’d baked the day before. Usually, you set them out for the kids that came through with their parents, but you could make an exception for the cutie in your shop. Moving over to the fridge, you pulled the sandwich you’d prepared for lunch out and placed it on the plate next to the cookies.

Wrecker nodded as he listened to you, the sound of something clanking against porcelain made him look at the dark blue curtain. “You must be good at measuring then.”

Was he trying to flirt with you? With a giggle, you picked up the plate and two sealed bottles of water. “That’s kinda part of the job.” Passing through the curtain, you held out the plate to him. “Why, you need help measuring something?” Wrecker coughed at your comment and you couldn’t hide the laugh that left you. He was so cute.

“N-no. Yes. I mean…” Wrecker picked up two of the cookies and ate them quickly. Another laugh left your lips and he found himself chuckling as well. Your laugh was contagious it seemed. “You have a nice laugh.”

Your cheeks flushed at his comment. “Thank you.” Looking down at the bottles of water, you bit your lip shyly. No one had ever complimented your laugh before. “Yours is nice too.” It was deep and full. When he laughed once more it felt like it was in your belly as well. Making warmth spread through you. “I should…start figuring out what we’re gonna take back.” Passing one of the bottles over to him, you pointed to the counter next to your register. “You can eat over there if you’d like, Wrecker.” You liked saying his name, it felt warm in your mouth.

Wrecker smiled as he looked over the plate of food. Cookies and a hearty-looking sandwich. His favorite kind of meal. Would it be weird if he said that he loved you? He watched you pick up a datapad and begin to look at the walls of fabric. He’d never actually flirted with anyone before, not on purpose. But you were cute, funny and nice. Plus you seemed to already know what he liked to eat! How exactly was he supposed to flirt with you? Maybe he should ask Hunter? For now, he’d have to do this himself based on things he’d heard from the other clones. Women liked compliments, didn’t they? “I like your shop. It’s cozy.”

“Thanks.” Looking up from your datapad, you watched as he took a happy bite from the sandwich. “Good?” When he smiled and nodded with his cheeks full of the food, you giggled loudly. “Good.” Smiling brightly, you looked back at the datapad and ran through your inventory. You had a good amount that you could give to the island. Not to mention you had a few blankets already done that you could donate as well. You’d take a decent hit doing this but you thankfully had savings that should cover most of the lost inventory. “So, Wrecker. Interesting name.” This time you didn’t look at him, your eyes scanning the wall of material trying to now locate the ones you needed. But you heard him chuckle and that warmth spread through you once more.

Swallowing the food in his mouth, he chuckled while opening the water. “My brothers picked it for me. I used to break things a lot and wreck things. So they picked that name.”

“Used to?” You smiled over your shoulder to him, earning a cute crooked smile back. Your dad was around his size and before he died he was accidentally breaking things of his size.

“Yeah. I guess I still kinda break things.” He reached behind his head to rub it awkwardly with a smile, knocking one of your shelves and sending a few of the trinkets on it flying. “Oh! Sorry!” He turned to fix the shelf and knocked a few of the items on the counter.

You let out a surprised squeal as you watched him turn multiple times, trying to fix the mess he was slowly growing. Laughing excitedly, you dropped the datapad and quickly moved over to help him. “Woah woah woah. Slow down there.” You raised your hands and grabbed his arms quickly, stopping him from loving anymore. Another laugh left you as you took in the growing blush on his face. “You’re kinda like a little wrecking ball, huh?”

He sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck as he looked down at you. “Sorry.” Now he’d made a fool of himself in front of you. “I can pick it all up.” He moved to kneel down and hit the empty plate in the process, causing it to fall. His hand shot out and grabbed it before it could hit the floor, earning another giggle from you.

Stars, he was adorable. Giggling, you knelt with him and began to pick up some of the items that had fallen. “You’re really funny.”

Wrecker really hadn’t been trying to be funny, but knowing that he’d made you laugh made him laugh. “Sorry about the shelf, I’ll fix it.” He passed you a few of the items that had fallen. So much for flirting with you flawlessly.

You took the items from him and placed them up on the counter. “Oh don’t worry about that. I’ve been meaning to move it.” He just helped the process along. You watched the clone stand carefully and chew his lip. Oh man, he was so cute.

“You should get back to the materials. I can pick this all up.” It was the least he could do after making such a big mess.

“Oh, how sweet. But you don’t have to do that.” You waved your hand dismissively at the mess. “I can pick it up later.” Raising your hand out to him, you beckoned him towards you. “Besides, I have a different job for you.”

Wrecker swallowed as he moved around the counter and towards you. His hand slid into yours and he happily followed you towards the larger wall of fabric that spanned the length of the back of your shop. “How can I help?”

“Well, you can start by pushing me against this wall and kissing me.” You watched as he stared at you in surprise while squeezing your hand. A laugh left you as you quickly patted his hand. “I’m kidding. You’re not that lucky. Not yet at least.” He squeezed your hand once more, making another laugh leave you.

He smirked at your laugh. It reminded him of birdsong. “Not yet?” He hoped that meant what he thought it meant.

The way he smirked made your heart flutter. “Probably should know you for more than an hour before we do something like that.” Releasing his hand you moved closer to the wall and tilted your head back to locate the first bolt of fabric you’d need.

“So about two hours?” He watched as you placed your hands on your hips in thought. Oh, you had nice hips. He wondered how they’d feel in his large hands. To his delight, you laughed once more while looking over your shoulder at him.

“You’re really funny.” He sent you a happy smile making your cheeks flare. Was it wrong to want to just continue to hang out with him? He was funny and sweet and made you feel safe. Those arms of his looked like they could hold you in the warmest of bear hugs. But that would be wrong wouldn’t it? With a slightly sad sigh, you returned to the task at hand. “We should probably focus on getting back to the others.” Pointing up to a bolt of fabric, you smiled. “Can you use your exceptional height to grab that blue one? Careful, it’s a little heavy.”

Wrecker smirked as he easily reached up and pulled the fabric from its slot on the wall. “Don’t worry. Nothing is too heavy for me.” He easily adjusted the bolt onto his shoulder with one hand, a casual smile on his lips. “What other ones do I need to grab, sarad?”

Oh, so those muscles were for use and not just for show. “Sarad? What does that mean?” You moved down the wall and spotted another bolt you needed. Pointing to it, you watched as he easily strolled over and once more pulled it out with one hand and placed it on his shoulder. Your heart fluttered at how easily he threw his strength around.

“I’ll tell you next time we hang out. Give you something to look forward to.” He watched as your eyes went wide with excitement. If Crosshair was here he’d probably tell Wrecker that he was being smooth. But Wrecker just really wanted any reason to spend time with you again. He watched you bite your lip while a blush crept across your cheeks. Kriff you were cute. You pointed to another two bolts and he quickly pulled both of them. “Got anything heavier?”

“Let me see what I can find, strong man.” You moved around him and towards a different wall. Excited to see how much he really could hold.

-*-

An hour later the two of you returned to the top of the island. Wrecker easily carried two crates full of materials and supplies on his shoulders while you walked a few steps behind with a bag full of knitting needles, scissors, and other smaller supplies. Were you a few steps behind for any other reason? Of course not. Definitely not to enjoy the view of Wrecker carrying the crates. Nope, not at all. You definitely weren’t imagining him shirtless carrying the crates either, his muscles on full display and rippling while covered in sweat. Phew, you were starting to get thirsty.

Stopping in front of the large tree, you watched as he bent over and placed the crates down with ease. Damn, he looked good bending over too. Smiling, you walked next to him and placed the bag down on one of the crates. You placed your hand on his upper arm and squeezed gently. “Thanks for the help.”

Wrecker easily flexed his arm, making you giggle quietly. “No problem, Sarad. If you need help bringing them back down, let me know.”

“I will.” You heard your name called and looking over your shoulder towards the Archium, you realized Sue and Magda were staring straight at you with knowing smiles. “I should check on my group.” Wrecker nodded to you and you began to walk away. Stopping you turned back towards him. “If you ever get bored of the soldier's look, let me know. I’ll make you a new outfit.” His face lit up as you turned to walk away. Deciding to have a little more fun with him, you looked over your shoulder at him while pulling the clip out of your hair. Your locs fell free and with a mischievous smile, you made eye contact with him. “After all, I’m good at measuring.”

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#clone wars fic #the bad batch fic #clone wars #the bad batch #wrecker x you #wrecker x reader #tbb wrecker #wrecker tbb #bad batch wrecker #Spotify

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unicyclehippo · 11 months

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this is what i love about art—yeah, it does all that good stuff for you like thinking and planning and making and moving and getting to see beauty unravel from your very own hands - yours! - sure, great, awesome! but it’s also about connection. every stitch i make is influenced by my grandma and my opa—one a quilter, the other a tailor, once. my stitches are shaky because im new at it; his shake because his hands do, these days, all the time. i walked beside my grandmother through the quilt show. i bought her water & lunch, she has the money for it but i can’t show it in enough ways, & certainly can’t say it in enough ways, that i care. about & for her. skin paper soft. incredibly opinionated. she brought her walking stick on our quilting date because she said she knew i would be upset if she didn’t. i spent four hours admiring quilts. she knows so much, and knew many of the names, and for all her talent she gushes about friends who are so much better than she is. how many of my stitches are influenced by her that were influenced by one of those friends? the patterns she shows me, the magazines & fabric she insisted i take, which her quilting group put together because they heard i was “dipping my toe in”. my brother asked me to fix his bag. it’s not embroidery, just stitches, but he didn’t want to throw the bag away & thought of me. another opportunity to show him. i want to mend it in bright orange, his favourite colour, but i do it in black because he uses the bag for work. i hope it holds. i took up painting to make a gift for my sister, & more recently for my friend. embroidery, to make bookmarks and bags for my siblings. i have always loved writing but i hold everything i write so close to my chest, i sometimes think no one knows me very well. but all this art, this making, it puts me somewhere new. my grandmother messaged me twice a week, ever since i started embroidery & then quilting, stepping into her domain. my brother & his bag. my sister sent me a photo of the book bag i made for her & her girlfriends as well, heavy with books they are lugging home from the library. i have made a mark already.

#you can ignore this #just late night rambling im very weirdly moved #to be asked to fix his bag lmaoo

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whump-me · 6 months

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Obscure: Chapter 1

Chapter 1 of Obscure, novel-length interrogation whump about a rebel leader who can erase memories with a thought, an interrogator who can see inside his subjects’ minds… and the connection they share that neither of them suspects.

Masterpost | the Mind Games universe | Read the completed novel on Patreon

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Elias

Even deep under the orchard, the sterile filtered air of the bunker still held the faint sweetness of the coming apple harvest. Elias breathed in the scent of comfort, the scent of home. He needed that comfort.

Tonight, as on every other bunker night, he was walking a tightrope. Across the orchard, in the drafty, too-big farmhouse, Laina could wake up at any moment to find her husband out of bed in the middle of the night. And there was the other risk of discovery, the deadly risk, not from the woman he loved but from the enemy.

He had never fallen off that tightrope yet. He was under no illusions that it meant he was safe.

The bunker was a twenty-by-twenty space, as welcoming as he could make it. A cot in one corner, made up with a quilt handed down from Laina’s grandmother. Laina had never liked the quilt or the grandmother, so she hadn’t shed any tears when he had told her it was lost.

A bookshelf in another corner held a smattering of dog-eared bestsellers of yore, scavenged from yard sales and thrift stores. A mini-fringe, regularly restocked, held enough food for a week—assuming the guest rationed it carefully. That was the longest he had ever needed to keep anyone down here.

Behind him, the air filtration system let out a constant hiss. Across from him at the square vinyl table, the woman with the hood over her head drew in a ragged breath. Her hands trembled in her lap.

She was afraid. They were always afraid. Afraid of him, at first—the way he had to operate made that unavoidable. And afraid of the enemy. He wouldn’t try to talk her out of that latter fear. She needed it. It was one of the few things he would leave her when she left.

He pulled the hood off her head, slow and gentle. He folded it on the table next to him as he settled back into his seat. Then he rested his hands on the table so she could see that he had nothing to hide.

He schooled his face into a fatherly expression. Not a smile. She wouldn’t trust a smile, not after the way she had come here. The hood, the car ride to parts unknown, the assurances his associates would have given her that they were there to help—unconvincing with no accompanying explanation. An unavoidable problem.

He met her eyes, his face solemn but soft. He tried to look both unthreatening and utterly in control. Like someone who could be trusted. Like someone who could take care of everything. Most of all, like someone who had no reason to be afraid.

It had been a long time since he had been anyone’s father. But he remembered it had felt something like that.

Especially the lying. In truth, he had never been in control. He had always been afraid.

Her eyes belonged to a rabbit trapped in a hawk’s gaze. Her shaking didn’t stop. “This is a mistake.” Her trembling voice lacked conviction. It told him she knew it was no such thing. “I don’t know what you want from me.” Even less convincing.

“I’m not who you think I am,” he said. “You asked certain questions online. One of my people found you before someone worse could.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” But even if she had been a decent liar, he would have noticed the way her eyes widened when he mentioned her online activity.

“The fact that you suspected those questions might have placed you in danger puts you ahead of most people,” said Elias. “Have you had an encounter with them before?”

She visibly weighed further unconvincing lies against her curiosity. Curiosity won out. She shook her head. “But that’s how it always goes in stories, isn’t it? When there are people like us, there’s always a them.”

He made a vaguely affirming noise and waited for her to ask what she wanted to ask.

It didn’t take long. “You said ‘one of your people,’” she said. “What does that mean? Who are ‘your people’? Who are you?”

“Soon,” said Elias. “But I’m going to need you to prove yourself first. Prove you’re one of us.” He shot her as an apologetic smile. “I’m sure you understand.”

It wasn’t a foolproof test. The line between us and them was even blurrier than the line between good and evil—he had more reason than most to know that. But in the absence of someone who could literally sniff out a lie like a bomb-detecting dog, it was what he had. And he hadn’t had someone like that since he had watched a loyal man bleed out in his arms years ago.

She tensed. If she did what he wanted, she was risking nearly as much as him. She had no way of knowing he wasn’t a liar, either. But she was also the one who had been abducted and brought to an underground bunker, and if the enemy wasn’t in here with her, then they were waiting for her aboveground.

So she chose to trust him. He saw it happen, saw the moment when her shoulders squared with resolve. He heard her let out a defiant breath, like she thought it might be her last.

She held one of her hands up over the table, palm facing the ceiling. She closed her eyes. A small, perfect ball of flame appeared, hovering half an inch above her skin.

“Is that enough?” she asked, her voice still shaking. She met his eyes in challenge, daring him to throw off the pretense of helping her.

He only nodded. She closed her hand around the flame with no sign of pain. The fire winked out.

“You’re Enhanced,” he said. “At least, that’s the most common term. There are others, but that’s the one they use, so it’s the one I use. You make fire. Some people read minds, or make objects move, or see into the future or to places they’ve never been. The number of potential abilities is as vast as the number of people on this planet. Those are some of the most common.”

“And you?” Her voice shook a little less now. “What can you do?”

“You have a special gene,” he said, instead of answering. “It’s been present in humanity since the dawn of history, at least as far as the current research can tell. But until sometime in the 1970s, it almost never became active. The gene requires environmental exposure to certain substances in order to activate. Pollutants in the air and water have turned people like us from the demigods of myth to something almost ordinary.”

In some rare places—if any of those places still existed—it truly was ordinary to have powers. The places where people like them came together to live among their own kind. As always when his thoughts found their way back to his childhood, he felt a pang deep in his gut.

And as always, he turned his thoughts away.

“If we’re so ordinary,” the woman said, “why haven’t I heard of anyone else who can do… this?” She opened her palm and stared down into her hand, as if searching for the remnants of the flame.

“Because it benefits us to keep ourselves a secret,” Elias said. “It benefits them, too—all the different thems out there. Governments and scientific facilities around the world know about us. Criminals, too. High-level corporate types. They all see ways to use us to gain an advantage, and the more secret they keep us, the more of an advantage they think they’ll get.”

“Because they’ll be the only ones who know about us that way?”

Elias shook his head. “They all know they aren’t the only ones. But if they were to do their business aboveboard, they’d have to follow rules. More paying salaries for the kinds of work we can do for them. Less locking people up in secret labs to breed the next generation of supersoldiers.”

A tremor ran through her, a lingering echo of her earlier shakes. He hadn’t realized until then that her shaking had stopped.

“We stay hidden so they can’t use us,” Elias said. “And the ones like you, who activate on their own and start asking questions before they figure out all the advantages to keeping their mouths shut… well, it usually doesn’t take long for someone to find them and shut them up. If they’re lucky, it’s me, or someone like me.”

“So you’re here to shut me up,” she said.

“I’m here to save your life.”

“Those men… they kidnapped me. They gave me something…” She stared down at the crook of her arm, at the small red needle mark.

A sedative. So that was how his people had stopped her from turning them into living torches. He had wondered.

“They did,” Elias agreed. “I apologize for that. But the work I do has to stay secret. If I or my people had reached out ahead of time, you might have told someone. A friend. Family.”

“My family will be looking for me anyway. They’ll go to the police, and the police will—”

“No, they won’t,” said Elias. “We’re good at what we do. We have decades of practice. Not to mention a lot of natural advantages.” He tapped the side of his head.

Another shiver ran through her, even though he didn’t mean he had an advantage over her. She could set him on fire right now if she wanted to.

“So what is it you do after you kidnap people?” She shot a glance around the small bunker. “How does this save my life?”

“I get people new identities, and I help them run. In a few days, there won’t be any way to connect you with the person who asked those questions.”

“There shouldn’t be any way to connect me now. I didn’t use my real name.”

“Nothing is ever truly anonymous,” he said gently. “If we found you, so could they.” Any number of theys. The woman had sent up a flare advertising herself as defenseless prey, and there was a world full of predators out there. But there was one they in particular that always came to mind first for Elias. Call it personal bias.

Call it experience.

“Then you’ve done this before?” Her glance around the bunker was slower this time. Maybe she was imagining all the people who had sat at this table, who had slept in that bed, under that quilt.

“Many times. My network is small, but I do what I can.” It wasn’t that small at this point, but he preferred people to believe that. Anyway, it felt small to him, even now. He didn’t compare it to what it used to be. He compared it to the size of the opposition.

“Your network?” She gave the first word a slight emphasis. It took him a moment to figure out she was asking whether he was in charge here. Maybe he didn’t look the part, with his grandpa glasses and his weather-lined hands.

He nodded. “Yes, I created this. I’ve been at this for more than a decade now. You’re in expert hands, I promise.”

He hoped she wouldn’t ask what had happened two decades ago. Some of them did. He was used to pushing the memories away when the questions came, and the grief along with them. But the taste always lingered later, a soft bitterness at the back of his throat.

“So you’re in charge here,” she said, asking the question straight out this time.

Usually they didn’t harp on that. Usually they found the acknowledgment reassuring and moved on. He frowned. “Yes, I am.” He paused. “Does that bother you?”

“It seems dangerous. The person in charge of the entire network, meeting with people like me personally.” Her sharp eyes studied him.

She was suspicious, but he didn’t know of what. If he did, he might have known how to ease that suspicion. “Because no one else can do quite what I can. I have a unique power that helps people like you stay hidden—and eases their minds, besides. I—”

Then he stopped, because those sharp eyes were still watching him, like she was waiting for something. Her fear was gone, along with her shaking. Now she held herself perfectly still, coiled tightly in tense anticipation.

He had seen a lot of fear over the past fifteen years. That wasn’t fear.

The sharpness in her eyes changed from waiting to wariness, and he knew she had seen the change in him.

He held her gaze and quested out for her mind. He sought her out on the thread of her fear. But that fear had never been real. She had never shown him anything except her power—and that was strength, not vulnerability. Her mind was closed to him.

She stood, unfurling her hands. Twin balls of flame came to life.

He dodged as the first shot toward him.

It hit the air vent behind him. The fire alarm gave a startled shriek.

The woman raised her wrist to her lips, and he saw too late that her watch wasn’t a watch. “Confirmation that Elias Kitzner is the leader and central point of contact for our unknown network.” Her voice was crisp and professional, without the slightest hint of a tremble. “Do you have my location?”

In other circumstances, he might have been impressed. It took skill to lie well. It took more skill to pretend to be a bad liar.

A tinny voice issued from the watch. “We are at your location. Standing by.”

He reached for her mind again, even though she was no longer looking at him. It was more difficult without direct eye contact, but not impossible. And although she had never given him anything real, he had made himself vulnerable in front of her. A one-way connection was sometimes enough.

But a compact ball of fire whizzed close enough to his ear to singe his hair—an intentional miss, he was sure—and his concentration evaporated.

And then the people on the other end of the watch poured down the ladder like an infestation of ants, human-sized ants in gleaming white hazmat suits with opaque face masks. There were too many of them to fit in the bunker, like a clown car in reverse.

Too many for him to ever fight off on his own.

He didn’t carry weapons. None except the one in his head. It was too great a temptation, he had always maintained. You can tell yourself all you like that violence is the last resort, but the easier you make violence for yourself, the sooner it will become your first resort.

He understood the temptation to use whatever weapons he carried. Only a childhood around parents and surrogate parents who understood powers had trained him early out of the temptation to use his natural weaponry to smooth his path through life at the expense of everyone he encountered.

He had never regretted his stance on weapons until now.

He was stronger than he looked. Laina liked to tease him about his professorial looks. There was no bite to her words; quite the opposite. She loved it. In reality, his skinny frame held hidden muscle from his work in the orchard. He hired help during the harvest season, mostly people who were in need of under-the-table work the way he had once been in need. But he preferred to do most of the work himself. Every person he let into his life represented another danger.

But strength didn’t make him a fighter. And the invaders had a taser that sent him sprawling to the concrete floor with a cry of pain, and a needle that sank into his arm before he had regained control of his body. His vision went blurry. His muscles turned to rubber.

“Target captured,” he heard the woman tell someone who wasn’t here. “En route to PERI headquarters.”

He knew the name. His mind, rapidly filling with static, found room for one final thought—a wordless burst of satisfaction. The enemy that had come for him was the enemy he had started this work to fight. Full circle. It was only right.

On the other side of the orchard, in a farmhouse Laina had always said was too big for two of them, Laina slept in peaceful ignorance. She wouldn’t know anything was wrong until the next morning, when she would oversleep because her husband’s never-quiet-enough morning routine hadn’t forced her to drag herself out of bed before dawn along with him.

When she called the police, they would feed her the reassuring words PERI had told them to say, and set the wheels in motion for the manufactured disappearance they had planned weeks ago. A burned-out husk of a car on the road between the farmhouse and the bar he visited on the rare occasions when he needed a few hours of oblivion badly enough to lie about his whereabouts. An equally burned-out husk of a body, identifiable only through dental records. The records would match.

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starsarefire824 · 2 years

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Byler but they're snowed in and it's cold and they *haven't figured out* they like each other and they have to share a quilt and maybe it's quiet or they're watching a film and neither of them says anything until one of them just fucking snaps

Will shivers when an icy draft pours in from the thin glassed window of the new house his mom is renting. Well, new to the Byers family anyway. He thinks the house must be at least fifty years older than his other house, but it definitely looks nicer. It’s closer to the center of town and almost pretty with wood floors and intricate trim on the stairwell. There’s even a pretty brick fireplace in the living room, which made Will grin ear to ear when they first came to see it. However, the landlord told them once they moved in never to light it unless they wanted to burn the place down. And so it sits there taunting him with being cozy, its mantle still decorated for Christmas even though it’s February. Will thinks he should probably just take the stuff down himself. His mom has been working a lot to make up for the cost of Christmas, and he’s been helping out more around the house since Jonathan went to college to keep it in order.

He watches the snow fall in heavy, round plops. It’s piling up unbelievably fast and the news said that it would continue well into the night. His mom already told him she was leaving her car at Melvaud’s and staying the night at Hop’s cabin. Her and El were going to watch A Room With a View. He could hear Hop already complaining about it in the background. Will frowns as a wind gust makes snow swirl around the side of the house and he can barely see to the end of the driveway. “I don’t know, Mike. I’m not sure you’re going home.” He eyes Mike’s bike that’s thrown haphazardly on the front lawn, quickly disappearing.

Mike pops a piece of popcorn into his mouth, his eyes looking past Will out the window. He smiles out of one side of his mouth. “Yeaaaaah. I already called my Mom while you were in the bathroom. She told me she would come get me in the morning, but that she’s not driving in this.”

Will nods and heads back towards the couch, staring at the TV as the credits to the movie they just watched float across the screen. There’s an ancient, ugly heater sitting next to it that keeps the living room a little warmer than the rest of the house. His Mom refused to turn the heat up past 66 during the day and a biting 55 at night. Instead she gets propane from Hopper and when Will complains she just tells him to get another sweater. He currently has his thickest wool socks he could find on and he can still feel the floorboards beneath his feet, his toes stiff with the cold. And he’s noticed that Mike hasn’t removed his knit cap from his head since he got here three hours ago. He’s also currently sitting under a huge old quilt his grandmother had knitted a thousand years ago. It’s thinned and frayed in some places, but still heavy and thick enough and…..big enough for them to share.

Will folds his arms across his chest, plopping himself heavily onto the couch. He tugs at the blanket, sighing with relief as he feels Mike’s body heat beneath it.

“Hey!” Mike complains, tugging it back towards himself. Will just smiles and then sticks his feet along Mike's thigh, gently pushing until they’re underneath him. Mike hisses. “Jesus Will! I can feel your toes through your fucking socks!”

Will blushes, ears burning as he objects, his voice cracking embarrassingly. “What! I’m cold.” He pulls the blanket up towards his chin, letting it fall comfortably around his shoulders.

“You’re always cold!” Mike exclaims, but he doesn’t move away from his touch and something about that makes Will’s heart flutter. He shoves Mike a little with his foot. “Well we can’t all be furnaces like you, Mike.”

Mike shrugs, “Yeah well—-” he starts to argue, then trails off when he catches Will’s eye. He peeks at him after examining the mostly empty bowl of popcorn in his lap.

An awkward beat passes between them and Will glances toward the television. “Soo—what do you want to do? We could play a game or watch another movie? We still have The Lost Boys and Full Metal Jacket. Robin said Full Metal Jacket is really good.”

Mike lets out a little breath and nods gently. “Yeah. I’d like that.” But his voice is softer than before and his eyes dart towards him again and Will doesn’t understand why he looks so terrified. Mike’s mouth softens around something he wants to say, but then he freezes for a second. That’s when Will feels the air shift in the room—now grown heavy and his heart isn’t fluttering anymore. It pounds heavily in his chest when Mike’s gaze has grown serious and focused- just staring at his lap. Will's breath catches when Mike’s hand moves beneath the quilt and oh so tentatively lets his fingers slide up the back of Will’s calf. He bites his bottom lip and his eyes flash up to Will, as if he’s forcing himself to make eye contact. They are questioning and scared and—--wanting in a way Will has never seen before. Or maybe it’s just that Will has never let himself see that flush across Mike’s face before.

Will sits frozen, pressed deep into the couch as he allows Mike to slide his fingers up and up further, excruciatingly slow as they flutter over his knee and towards his thigh. He breathes out heavily, “Mike—” his friend’s name hitches in his throat. It’s a question. It’s a warning. It says: don’t do this to me, unless you really mean it.

Because this. This thing is something that has only ever lived in Will’s daydreams and late at night hidden under the sheets of his bed. This is something that’s only ever lived inside a glance that lasts far too long or a touch at his hip that is too tender. It’s only ever lived in their strange jealous arguments when one wasn’t paying the other enough attention or when they sat up late on Friday nights chatting about “When we” and “We’ll go here when we’re older” —talking as if they would always be together when deep down none of it was realistic. ‘Cause eventually there’d be wives (at least for Mike anyway) and mortgages and jobs that took them to separate states. Eventually—they’d be someone they called on the phone and got to see at the Wheeler’s Christmas party once a year. And maybe they’d drink a little too much wine on those nights and sneak into the old elementary school’s playground, maybe they’d hug too long and Will would allow himself the tiny pleasure of letting his eyes linger on the way Mike’s lips parted as they stared at each other, their breath a mixed up cloud between them.

And that would be enough. Will could let it be enough.

But not this. If Mike did this. Then none of that would ever be enough. Will could never not have him. After this, his heart would tear in two and he'd shatter into a million little pieces.

A heavy wave of unwelcome emotion floods over Will then. His eyes flutter shut as he sucks in a shaky breath.

“Will–” Mike sighs. And then he’s shifting his hips towards him, the bowl of popcorn clattering loudly onto the floor. Will’s eyes shoot open and he watches in awe, in terror, in disbelief as Mike is suddenly reaching for him, blanket thrown half off and tangled between their bodies. He gently grips the inside of Will’s knee, making space for himself between his legs. A little wine catches in Will’s throat as Mike’s on top of him, his hands are in his hair and sliding along his jaw and Will is so overwhelmed he can’t think of anything but him. He feels the tears sliding down his face and catching on his ears as he closes his eyes when Mike’s lips meet his. Will can’t help but smile into his mouth as he kisses him. His kiss is filled with all the things Mike’s never said. It makes Will’s heart swell with happiness and his entire body quivers in anticipation and he thinks that maybe Mike never really had to be good with words at all. He thinks that maybe he was saving it all for this very moment. And it makes Will think for the very first time that whatever this is between them, whatever has lived buried deep and warm beneath the surface of their friendship, might now be able to grow into what it was always meant to be. Maybe those “when we” and “let’s go here” dreams weren’t so unrealistic after all. The thought of that sends a happy warmth through him that spreads through his chest down to the tips of his toes like wildfire. Will relaxes into Mike, wraps his fingers around the back of his neck and pulls his best friend closer.

#byler #stranger things #writing prompt #mike wheeler #will byers #mike x will #hope you like anon :)#send me writing prompts!

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