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dr-drckken · 2 years

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A Nightmare on Sycamore Street || Turquoise

Something strange is afoot at 424 Sycamore...even more-so than usual...

@accendimi

DRAKKEN: Frustration had been building like a loose thread being pulled from a hem. The line tensed, finger it was wrapped around turning purple, and it did not seem to want to come willingly.

In the beginning things had gone so smoothly! He had obtained the list of orders without getting caught. Stealing the actual package had been a lot more bumpy, but after a few weeks of watching the news and knowing that the government wasn’t going to go around showing off the cracks in their security to the public, he had considered that one a win, too. So why was the third and final act being so difficult? He was so close, he could practically taste it!

Or maybe that because he was only centimeters from the purple goo as he worked.

Drakken had been laboring on his plan for months now. Months! All because of the stupid magic that always short circuited or altogether denied the modifications he had been trying to make to it. But he wasn’t about to give up. Magic was just a form of science that he did not understand yet! All in good time… so long as that time was kept relatively short.

He didn’t glance up from where he was working when the door to the lab opened as there was only one possible person who could be using it to enter. “I thought you were leaving.”

SARINA: Sarina was ready for a fun night out. She was in a sexy version of poison ivy, she was tempted to use one her past vigilante costumes and make that more sexy and less practical but she also didn’t want to be recognized with his little arch nemesis running around.

But that didn’t mean she could leave without checking on Drakken, make sure he didn’t blow himself up with that new abomination thing.

“Oh don’t worry I will be, I’m looking forward on judging many many people tonight and their costumes. Figured I would check to see if you blew something up before I left.” Sarina walked in closing the door behind him and sitting on the arm of the couch she usually lounged on when she came in here.

DRAKKEN: This made him frown, mocking what she had said under his breath as he continued to work. Blow something up. Ha! As if he would do something like that without it being on purpose!

…except he had. Several times. Whatever was still rejecting the modifications had been more than a little moody when he would get too heated. But he didn’t like to admit defeat or wrong doings. Even with the scorch marks still lingering along the walls.

“I’m perfectly capable of looking after myself,” he finally said at full volume, having to get through his mutterings. Though he didn’t insist she go and have a good time, what was it that she said? judging people?, because truth be told he did like to have the company when it was available.

“It just won’t do what I want it to!” Drakken yelled, picking up the piece he had been working on and flapping it around. It was a part of a larger whole and this part happened to be the hand, the goo having been crammed into a rubber suit he had put together. This was to try and hide the purple stuff and to make it look more human rather than…whatever one would call the shape of the Abomination.

He placed the glove back down and tried again, hooking up the wires to the power supply. At first it didn’t seem to do anything and Drakken raised a brow. He reached over for the controls and pressed a button, watching as the thumb bent in response. Then he pressed another button and everything went up in sparks, shocking him from where his finger had been touching the panel.

At the end of his already very short fuse Drakken picked up the hand again and threw it across the room, uncaring of where it landed as he went back to looking at his notes to see what he was missing.

The glove had landed on one of his other works in progress, the one that held the battery they had stolen months before. A purple glow began emanating from that corner of the room. One moment the hand lay flat and the next it was standing, seemingly at attention.

SARINA: Sarina tuned out Drakken as he mumbled, usually his mumbles meant nothing to her. Plus it was most likely him bitching and she didn’t want a headache before tomorrow when she would be fighting off a hangover.

“Ah yes, throw the thing that will make it work. Why don’t you hit it against the table next maybe it will reset.” Sarina mused as she watched him after the shock just in case but eventually she just lay out on the couch.

“I swear if that purple glow means you’re about to blow up this house I’m gonna be pissed.”

DRAKKEN: “What?” he griped, twisting around. The safety goggles he was wearing made his eyes appear bigger behind the polycarbonate lenses, like an owl as he blinked at her. Since his head was no longer bent over his notes he caught the glow in his peripheral and turned to see the hand. His brow furrowed.

Drakken stood from his chair and walked over to the glove. After a moment of studying it he did what any good scientist would do in his position, he poked it. When it didn’t fall over he laughed, then laughed some more as he picked it up and held it above his head as if he had just won some sort of trophy.

“Do you know what this means!” He came running over to where Sarina was on the couch, now waving the hand around in her face. He stopped suddenly, standing back up as he regarded it again. “Well, I’m not sure but- it means we’re close! Ha! I’m brilliant!”

Drakken went back over to the counter, carrying the glove like a child with their beloved stuffed animal best friend, and began to gather the rest of the purple goo appendages he had removed from the original container. They were all set around the other machine so that he could then go get the giant jar with the rest of the magic ooze.

If he wanted to go about this properly then he would continue as he had, slow and steady, taking notes, performing experiments to gather information until he could carry out the experiments and tests.

But he didn’t want to do that. Who did? When he had just witnessed what he had? When he hadn’t attempted to take over the world in months?

Instead he poured all the goo back into the vase-like container, aside from the original glove that was still tucked into the crook of his elbow, and then tried to pick the whole thing up. After a long moment of struggling he huffed, turning to look over his shoulder at Sarina.

He cleared his throat, tone a sarcastic version of polite that gradually ebbed away into annoyance, “Would you mind getting off the cOUCH AND HELPING ME?”

SARINA: Sarina watched Drakken carefully as she waved the thing in her face reaching out one finger to push the glove away from her. Who knew what that had touched and she wanted none of that on her. She couldn’t even hide the turn of her nose until he walked away.

The thing was he was so cute. Like a child excited over a project that finally worked and that nose turned up turned into a soft smile as she watched him cuddle the glove.

At least until he turned to look at her again and her face morphed into annoyance as she let out a loud sigh. “This outfit isn’t meant for work. It’s meant to work but not for work.” Sarina mused though she pushed herself into a standing position walking over to lift the whole thing.

“Where do you want it?”

DRAKKEN: “That doesn’t make any sense,” he told her before brushing the whole thing off as she got up. Was he a little miffed that she could pick up the entire bucket? Yes. He also brushed that off as it didn’t really matter when it could lead to him ruling the world, then he wouldn’t ever have to worry about picking up buckets again! Or anything for that matter!

“Pour it over the shrink ray!” he said, flapping a hand at it. The battery lived inside the half finished device. He figured the best bet was to simply recreate what the glove had done.

Drakken watched with rapt attention as the purple goo fell over the invention, a sort of evil version of maple syrup, almost. It fell over the sides, dripping to the ground to puddle at the bottom. Most pooled on the top, breaching into the cracks between pieces of metal that had been soldered with a half broken iron that burnt him more than it did work.

It sat there….and sat there…aaaand sat there.

Finally, Drakken was too impatient to hang onto his excitement.

“Why is nothing happening!” he yelled, marching over. “Come on!”

He poked it with the toe of his boot, shifting the device just so. Something sparked and then the entirety of the mess began to glow the same pinkish purple from before. Only it was much brighter now that there was more surface area that was illuminating, casting the entirety of the lab into the same hue.

The concoction began to hum, the goo vibrating until the movements became too big and had to be categorized into a wiggle. Large forms began to look as though they were reaching out, trying to break free from the blob. It all began to re-conglomerate, the puddles on the floor pulling back into the middle to form one giant mass that looked almost akin to the thing Drakken had witnessed on the stage at the Blight Industries demonstration during Spring Break all those months ago. Even the hand he had been hugging to himself was pulled from him, crawling across the floor to join the rest.

Then, like a bubble, it burst, plastering the lab in the goo.

SARINA: Sarina constantly doubted Drakken’s plans but right now pouring something over something else that could explode had her wary of it. But hey she still did it taking a quick step back watching both Drakken and the goop.

As everything pulled itself together, Sarina slowly inched back.

Rarely did these plans work and for a moment, Sarina knew that it was going to work.

She hadn’t gotten far enough away before it did explode and she shivered in disgust.

“DRAKKEN WHAT IS ON ME?!”

DRAKKEN: Sarina’s voice broke the initial shock that was keeping him still. He reached up to pull his goggles up, the lenses covered in the goo, and had a look around the lab. It had gotten a refinishing, that was for sure.

“Well,” he turned to look at her and shrugged. “How many times have I told you about proper lab etiquette? There’s lab coats and glasses right by the door for a reason.”

Now probably wasn’t the time for a lector but he also did not want to acknowledge that it was entirely his fault her costume had been ruined.

Just as he was about to make a break for the stairs, hoping that the stuff would slow her down at least, the stuff started to move. Again. This time it seemed to have almost read his mind as it all began to inch toward the stairs, the splatter marks and puddles all moving on their own. Even the pieces that had gotten onto the two of them crawled off and followed the rest down the secret staircase until the whole lab was cleaned of any signs of it.

Drakken’s whole body shivered at the feeling of the slime slithering off his clothes, paused as he realized where it was headed, and then was quick to follow, falling over his own feet as he rushed down the stairs after it.

SARINA: Sarina was going to throw up. Not only was she covered in some type of goop, it was moving, inching off of her and considering most of her costume was skin… it was disgusting.

She needed a shower ASAP. She was almost tempted to use their :in case of exposure” shower in the corner. But that wasn’t going to make her feel better.

By the time it was off her and Drakken was running down the stairs, Sarina’s eyes were still closed trying to get some semblance of calm as her hands lit up ready to burn all of the goop and she stomped down to find Drakken.

DRAKKEN: His shoulder hit the wall of the second landing, having been running down the non-hidden stairs of the house too fast for his own braking system to slow him down. Drakken reached the bottom just in time to watch bits of the goo wiggle under the door to the backyard. He went after it, throwing the doors open and stepped out into the cool evening air.

Drakken gave a little shriek, seeing various figures of people in their backyard. That was until Sarina’s green glow caught up, reflected in the eyes of each and every person that now stood before him. Except they weren’t people, it was the goo, formed to look as he had envisioned. Henchmen of his own design! More were still forming behind, growing and standing at attention one after the other.

“It worked,” he breathed, astonished. Honestly, he would have been happy with just the giant blob at this point but this? This was- “Incredible! It really worked!”

Drakken clapped his gloved hands together with glee and bounced on his feet, looking back at Sarina as he went to circle around and observe the closest goo-henchmen. “We did it! Look at this! A whole army at our disposal!”

SARINA: An Army? Somehow Drakken had succeeded. Sarina’s hands stopped glowing as she leaned back against a wall, far from those things.

She supposed it was just a matter of time before something he did worked out.

“And what are you going to do with them now?” Did Sarina need to quickly round up the Sykes and warn them.

DRAKKEN: Drakken opened his mouth, chest puffed up, ready to answer…!

Until he frowned because he really had no idea. It was a nice, sizable army, but were they enough to take over the whole world? Probably not. He would need more of them, which meant he would need more of that goo! All in good time, though, because maybe they could start making headway up to the top.

Tonight, the UK. Tomorrow, with more of that purple stuff, they could take on the world!

“We’ll take them for a test run, of course!” he announced, like this had always been his plan. Drakken began the evil laugh only to have to stop when none of the…what was he going to call these things? Synthetic henchmen? Abominations, like their predecessor?

Syntho-Abominations! Yeah, that sounded fine, even if it was a bit of a tongue twister.

“Uh, go!” Drakken tried, addressing the army. They all stared blankly, the green lights of their eyes giving him nothing to work with. “Move! Conquer! Do my bidding!”

Still, nothing.

“Drat!” he whirled around, skitting back into the house. “I forgot about the remote!”

A few moments later, paired with several loud bumps that indicated where he was in the house, Drakken reappeared with the control panel. He pressed a few buttons, smacked it once with the heel of his hand, pressed another button, and wa-la! The syntho-abominations seemed to adopt coherency, no longer stock still but like they’d been awoken.

He cleared his throat, “Er, wave your right hand?”

Everyone complied. He laughed, excitement returning. “Stop! Now..pat your heads and rub your stomachs.”

Again, everyone complied, though some seemed to be struggling with that combination. Drakken grinned, turning to look at Sarina and nodding for her to give it a go.

SARINA: Sarina sighed, what could have been very terrifying stood there rubbing their bellies. She wasn’t sure how Drakken always managed to do this. Look silly and make everything around him look just as silly.

She was collateral and had to make sure she did not suffer the image repucussions.

“March in place?” Sarina commanded with a raised eyebrow.

DRAKKEN: And march in place the syntho-abominations did.

Drakken pressed another button on the controller and they all came to a halt.

“Well it seems manual works just fine, what’s say we try out automatic,” he grinned, something much more wicked than the previous boyish expressions. “Soon world domination will be in my grasp with this platoon of the syntho-abomination army! My goo children of evil will be doing all the heavy lifting for us!”

The evil laughter began to brew as he punched in his commands to the controller. It was all coming together! Finally! It had been far too long for a plan of his to take actual shape, and now that they actually had made progress before them he could remember what it was all about.

One last button and the syntho-abominations all snapped to attention, wandering off in separate directions. Drakken’s laughter became full fledged, his head tilting back as he let the joy of the foolproof plan take over- until the sounds of destruction began.

“Wha-” he looked up, watching as the syntho-drones had started to try taking apart their backyard. “No! No, you ungrateful brats, the rest of the town!”

The army all paused, turning to look at him, then at one another, and then set down what they were doing to begin making their way outside of the gated back garden. Down the alleyways, through other people’s yards, some even going through people’s houses, to avoid grouping together in one large crowd. They were gone within several minutes, dispersed and impossible to figure out where they had come from unless you were either of the two criminals standing at ground zero. Into the greater Swynlake area they went, doing as they had been commanded, and causing what chaos they could in their path.

Drakken turned to Sarina, happy as a clam, “Sorry if I ruined your night of judging what other people are dressed up as but I think you can still do that from Town Hall while they’re begging us to make all of this stop, don’t you?”

SARINA: Sarina face palmed, shaking her head as she looked over the creatures destroying their backyard. While in theory it was fine, she didn’t care and Annie would have another fit. It was still stupid, foolish and stupid… did she think stupid already.

“I mean at this rate this looks interesting too, so let’s just see how this night goes. Did you do anything to make sure our house was off limits?”

DRAKKEN: “Well, I…I just did!” he said, flapping a hand in reference to him yelling at the syntho-abominations and them getting on with the taking over the world. Drakken pulled it back to swipe down his face, his spine straightening. No, nope! He was not going to let her ever pessimistic attitude rain on his parade today of all days!

In fact, nothing was going to rain on it! He had an unstoppable army at his beck and call! What could possibly defeat him?

He recovered his good mood in an instant at this thought and tucked the controller under his arm. “Besides, what does it matter? We’ll have the choice of whatever house we want after tonight! We could have someone’s mansion or even the hotel. Or better yet we could make everyone in this town build us a castle of our own!”

More evil laughter spilled out of him, only this time it was accompanied by the distant sounds of screaming and a little bit of wreckage. Drakken turned, eyes lit up as they peered out into the night. He scrambled to move after more sounds of the chaos filtered through, heading into the house to leave out the front door. “Come on, Sarina, we’re missing it!”

#title: (a nightmare on sycamore street)#ch: (sarina go)#(turquoise)#happy halloween!!!

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icollectyoursins · 3 years

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Jonathan Joestar x Reader x Dio Brando NSFW

Anon asked for "may i request a spicy jonathan x reader x dio sandwich 😳👉👈 extra kinky please omg,,, 🖤

In typical fanfic writer fashion, I looked up when lube was invented because well... there is no way you’re taking either of these boys without it. It wasn’t invented until 1904 (I think), but Vaseline was a common lube-like substance that was used instead which was invented in 1872. The more you know! I also looked up what kinds of toys they would have used back in the 1880s and... the history of sex toys is fascinating.

While I’m rambling, this is going to be a long one, just to fit all the “kinky” stuff in, so bear with me. It’s been a while, I know, but it’s very long and I was on break for a bit trying to relax. Anyway, enjoy!

You had arrived at the Joestar household expecting a normal dinner with Jonathan and Dio, but things go a little awry after two of you share a drink. Whatever was in those glasses was, you certainly didn’t mind if it got you between the bodies of two very attractive men.

Wanna know what I’m willing to write? Rules here!

Have a character, but no idea? Prompt list here!

Looking for more? Master post here!

WARNINGS: Making out, mentions of “drugging” I guess, something in the drink makes them very horny, but still able to consent, light riding, Jonathan is too big, so they move on, threesome, belts used as handcuffs, lube (not named, but it’s Vaseline), spitroast x2 (they switch), rough fucking, choking, face fucking, blowjobs, facials.

Word Count: 2578

Desperate lips crashed together as you clumsily tumbled into the room backwards with Jonathan never breaking the kiss. The door closed behind him and you two gasped, hot breath tickling your faces. You weren’t apart for long and he quickly pulled you back, claiming your lips once again. A part of you questioned how this happened, but mostly you were consumed by his kiss.

The evening had started relatively normal with you coming over for dinner, drinks were passed around between you, Jonathan and Dio. The next thing you know, you’re practically climbing on top of him, vehemently exploring his body while he did the same. Not wanting to embarrass yourselves, you quickly tried to run to a room so you could be more private.

You both moaned as he made his way down your neck, gently pressing kisses into your supple skin. Now that you thought about the quickly finished dinner more, you realized someone was missing. Where was Dio? He sat at the table with you, ate with you and then once the drinks came around and your insatiable lust quickly flooding your senses, you lost sight of him.

You ran your fingers through Jonathan’s hair, relishing in the way he shivered. Finally, you parted, swiftly shucking off your clothes before exploring each other’s bodies, basking in the warmth. It didn’t really matter where Dio was right now. You just wanted-

“Jonathan.” You breathed, running your hands up his chest, enticing him into another kiss.

“I know,” he said, panting heavily. His mind quickly raced with what to do, panicking. He’d never felt like this before, so... needy. “On the bed. Now, please.”

You nodded once, leading him by the hand towards the edge. Strong arms lifted you up, switching your positions so he was lying on it with you on top of him, straddling his waist. You could feel his erection bumping against your behind as he got more comfortable. No more time was wasted and you quickly aligned yourself with the tip, taking a deep breath as you slowly slipped onto him.

A cry bubbled up from your throat as just the tip stretched you. His hands massaged into your hips, trying to soothe you. You shook your head no. He was too big to take like this. He lifted your hips up again, pulling you close against his chest, whispering into your ear.

“It’s okay, don’t worry.” Jonathan sat up, still holding you close. “We can do something else. Here, let me-”

He switched your positions again, crouching between your legs. Gentle kisses were trailed down towards your genitals, making the anticipation rise up in you quicker. Finally, he got to where you both wanted him. A final kiss was placed above your genitals, then-

A cold laugh echoed from the door, making the hair on your arms stand up. You immediately started covering each other with various pillows and blankets, hiding from the hungry stare boring into you. Dio. A cool smile was painted on his face. Another hissed laugh passed over his lips, growing louder the hotter your face got.

“Dio, we can explain!” You began.

“Ooh. I believe you, (Y/N).” You felt like you were falling in on yourself under his gaze. “Tell me, how do you feel?”

“We’re fine!” Jonathan shouted defensively. He must have known more than you. It was an odd question, but you weren’t sure why he was-

Dio’s eyes fell on you and suddenly everything felt different. Your mind started to quell its fear, focusing more on how soft his lips would feel against yours, how easy it would be to lift you up, manhandling you like you were nothing. There was a jump in the pit of your stomach. You wanted him. You wanted both of them.

Suddenly you zoomed back down to earth. You were pressed up against him, already kissing any part of him you could. How did you get here? Did you care? He stared down at you with nothing but lust in his eyes. You were pulled closer to him, then one of his hands started to roam further and further down.

“We don’t want to keep our little pet waiting, do we, Jojo.” Oh. Oh, god. Both?

Jonathan shuddered while Dio brought you back towards the bed. Your lips were captured by his, quickly overpowering you. It made you melt how almost addictive his kiss was. Another set of hands danced along your back. The warmth between the two of them was lovely.

His clothes were quickly discarded to the side while the other fought for your attention, leaving sweet, but desperate kisses along your shoulders. His hands wrapped around to your front, teasing your nipples. You could feel his hard length against your lower back. Dio returned to you, pulling you away from Jonathan and into a rough kiss.

“Let me show you how to do it right, Jojo.” He seethed, bending you over the bed and lining his already erect cock with your ass. He let it slide between your cheeks a few times before he grabbed a glass jar that had previously been in his pocket. Your intended partner, however, made his way around to the front, looking down at you apologetically.

Without thinking, you wrapped your hand around his length, slowly jerking it. A shocked cry racked through his body, shocked by the touch. Jonathan had never felt as turned on as he did now. Whatever willpower he had before was completely gone now with the temptation of your lips brushing against the tip of his cock.

Dio lathered a slick substance around your hole, slipping one of his fingers in to test your tightness. Now, it was your turn to moan. God, even his finger felt big, you could only imagine what the rest of him felt like. The more his digit fucked into you, the more your mind was fogged over with lust, shallowly pushing your hips back to get more friction. With a malicious chuckle, he complied, quickly working you up to two fingers and then three.

You couldn’t help the free moans that came out of you, much to his annoyance. His free hand slammed down on your head, forcing you to swallow as much of Jonathan’s cock as you could. Finally, your mewls were muffled. “Peace and quiet at last. Keep them like that, Jojo. Greedy whore.”

The room was quickly filled with the sounds of Jonathan’s sweet cries as you happily lavished him, sucking in more and more. Dio soon got bored of fingering you and pulled them out with a smack to your ass, leaving a smear of whatever he used on your cheek. Then, he lined his tip up with you again, wasting no time plunging into you, almost to the hilt. You tried to cry out but were obviously stopped. Tears stung at your eyes when he started thrusting into you roughly, each one.

Suddenly, your hands were pulled behind your back and tied together with some kind of rope that you assumed he had tossed on the bed while getting undressed. A shudder of excitement rolled through your body. Now, you were completely at their mercy, though you doubted one of them was capable of mercy and it wasn’t Jonathan. A particularly hard thrust had you seeing stars only made the answer more obvious.

Dio’s brutal pace only got worse, jerking you forward, making you choke on Jonathan’s dick more and more. Your eyes rolled back into your head as drool dribbled down your chin. Crescents decorated your thighs from where fingernails dug into your skin. A hand was brushed through your hair, gentle and soft. It felt so hot against you. The face behind it was flushed red, panting heavily.

Suddenly, he pulled back, almost collapsing into the set of drawers behind him. Despite your mouth being free, you fought to keep your moans quiet, not wanting Dio to think of something worse to shut you up. But, the feel of his cock hitting your sweet spots over and over again it was damn near impossible. You didn’t need to see his face to know he was grinning sinisterly over you, his gaze hot against your back. He doubled over, wrapping his arm around your neck into a chokehold, keeping you close to him while he practically speared through you with this new position.

Jonathan meanwhile was trying to calm himself. You had felt so good. It should be illegal to feel that good. Oh, and your face, hot and sweaty trying to accommodate him. A moan slipped over his lips, shaking lightly from the exertion. He didn’t want to spoil you. Not yet. He wanted this to be nice for you, at least, before his adopted brother walked into the mix.

You were beginning to lose air, tapping on the arm around you, frantically trying to get him off. With a devious chuckle, Dio got up, pulling out of you all too quickly. You squirmed at the loss of something inside you as well as the lack of orgasm.

“Jojo!” He said boisterously. “Your turn.” With a hard smack of your ass, he walked away from you, letting the other man take his place. Jonathan did so tentatively. If just your mouth felt that good, what would other parts feel like? “What’s wrong, Jojo? Afraid you’ll break them?”

“Dio!” He snapped. “Why are you so cruel?”

A cold laugh echoed in your ears, making you shudder. Dio began to slowly jerk his dick, close enough to bring it to your lips.

They continued to bicker and for once you were thankful for the lust controlling your mind, easily blocking them out with thoughts that would make your grandmother blush.

“God, just stop fighting and fuck me,” you groaned, too aroused to think of anything but what you wanted. Jonathan looked shocked, but not turned off.

“Come on! Give them what they want.” Dio growled, pushing the tip of his cock forward. Immediately, you latched your lips around it, moaning at the residual taste left on it. You looked up at him, cheeks hollowing, creating a suction that drove him mad. He roughly ran his fingers through your hair, grabbing you tightly to hold your head in place, then he began thrusting his hips into you with the same pace as before.

Jonathan gently ran his fingers over your sides before lining himself up, praying that you had been “worked open” enough for it to be more pleasurable than painful. Slowly, he pushed himself in, unable to hold back a low grown as he felt your soft, warm walls clench around him. Just like before, the thrusts from the other man pushed you onto him slightly, making you take more.

The stretch was incomparable to any other you’ve had (aside from Dio). You felt so full, there had to be some kind of bulge, right? If you could voice how good he felt, you would have. It was a long process for him to work up the courage to get to any proper pace, he was worried that if he took it too far, it would easily hurt you. But, you felt so goddamn good.

Finally, he went in as far as he could, letting out another moan. Then, with the same slow, careful moves, he pulled out almost to the tip. It was as though your insides were pulling him back and he found himself sinking in quicker than he had originally intended. Whatever was making him like this soon took over, turning him into some kind of animal, spearing in and out of you without a sign of stopping.

Just as you suspected, you were at their mercy completely, feeling them see-saw you, like some kind of toy. God, you could have died like this and been happy, but you knew you were going to be much happier if you saw this through to the end. The three of you moaned in tandem, letting your pleasure take you over as the men picked up the pace. It was all so good, almost too good. Sweat dripped down your bodies, making your hair cling to your faces.

You could feel your orgasm building up in you again, unable to do anything to stop it. Their cocks somehow synced with each other and you swore that if they were any deeper, they might have touched. Your release quickly washed over you, making you see white just as they both thrust into you at the same time, stopping to let your body sort out itself out as you spasmed under them, cumming harder than you ever had.

The first to pull out was Jonathan, slow and gentle. Then Dio followed, coming around to the other side of the bed. You faintly heard a “come on” followed by your name as you were lifted into the air, then moved to the middle of the room, where they set you on your knees. They crowded over you, one of them (presumably Dio) lightly slapped his cock on your cheek, indicating he wanted you to pick up where you left off. In your post-orgasm haze, you opened your mouth, sucking lazily.

Gradually, you became more aware, picking up your pace. You used one hand to stroke the shaft that was in your mouth and with the other one, you reached out for Jonathan’s cock, doing the same to his. Their grunts and groans filled the room the more you jerked them. Lifting off one length with a pop, you moved to the other, looking up to see their faces, hot and twisted with pleasure.

It didn’t take long for someone’s seed to spill into your mouth with a loud cry. You swallowed every drop, before returning to the first one and finishing him off. Dio’s orgasm was not as intense as Jonathan’s, but when he did, he pushed himself further into your throat, making you choke while he shot his release into it.

You pulled back, panting heavily, a string of drool connecting you and his cock. A cruel chuckle filled your ears, making you smile almost drunkenly. You weren’t sure what it was, but something told you the night wasn’t done just yet. Dio pulled you into a rough kiss while Jonathan ran his hands up your sides, grazing his lips against your shoulders. These men were going to be the death of you.

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willowworkswithwords · 3 years

Note

Hiii Willow! I saw the new prompt list, and was wondering if I could suggest “Shut up and get over here, we’re doing physical affection.” With crosshair, and the rest of the batch? Have a lovely day :)

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types, Star Wars: The Bad Batch (Cartoon) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Crosshair & Hunter & Tech & Wrecker (Star Wars: The Bad Batch), Crosshair (Star Wars: The Bad Batch) & CT-21-0408 | CT-1409 | Echo, Crosshair & Hunter & Omega & Tech & Wrecker (Star Wars: The Bad Batch) Characters: Crosshair (Star Wars: The Bad Batch), CT-21-0408 | CT-1409 | Echo, Hunter (Star Wars: The Bad Batch), Omega (Star Wars: The Bad Batch), Tech (Star Wars: The Bad Batch), Wrecker (Star Wars: The Bad Batch)

Additional Tags: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Mind Control Aftermath & Recovery, Mental Health Issues, aka Crosshair is not in a good place, Crosshair Needs a Hug (Star Wars: The Bad Batch) Summary:

Fuck, why’d this have to happen now? He should leave. Hunter had practically hinted at the start that he wasn’t expected to stay. Crosshair had thought he had been trying to be diplomatic, but with every one of Hunter’s aborted jerks towards Crosshair he was further convinced he hadn’t been wanted at all.

What did it matter, anyway, if the brother who’d abandoned him once already wanted him to stay that way?

---

In which I ignore the finale and make up my own reality. Crosshair goes with them and here he figures some stuff out.

also available to read under the cut

Crosshair didn’t know if he hated planets like this one or loved them. They were relatively safe with so few people around, but that was part of the issue. They had let their guard down before, had gotten complacent because they were so damned tired and just wanted somewhere they could breathe.

Crosshair couldn’t breathe anymore.

He’d removed his chip on his own, after he’d gotten burned. Cooped up in the medical bay with memories leaking through and wrapping around his heart, he’d slipped out while the AZ droid was occupied and snuck into a small surgical bay.

He hadn’t felt it, before, but he could feel it now.

It’s grip on him lingered.

So, he participated in training but left when they had a holonight. Omega had been trailing him around any chance she got but he was rude and dismissive because she was just a child. His vode had made attempt after attempt, in their own ways, to reconnect, but Crosshair knew the truth.

He’d never be the brother he’d been before.

They’d been on this backwater for a month now, had established a routine and were settling into a new rhythm. Crosshair couldn’t avoid them much, what with their living space being the size it was, but they swapped watch every three hours at night and it was easy to let his watch slip into Tech’s, into Wrecker’s, right into the sunrise without reprieve.

They all knew that he did it, but none of them seemed able to bare to breach the subject, and that suited Crosshair just fine.

Last night he’d lasted until the rain stopped. The sun wasn’t up when he’d stood by Hunter’s pillow, the only thing he needed to do to wake him, but he’d stayed outside the marauder’s ramp, slowly sinking into the mud, for most of the night.

It genuinely hadn’t occurred to him that standing in the rain would get him sick (but maybe it had). Even if he was sick, he doubted they’d care anymore (he knew they would). He could care less what they thought, he’d stay quiet and die before he humiliated himself any further (he was desperate, so desperate, for their care).

Hunter scared the living hell out of him when his hand landed square on Crosshair’s shoulder.

“Woah, woah there Cross, sorry.” Hunter voice was soft, but Crosshair suspected it was because Omega was peeking around his shoulder to stare at Crosshair. Both their brows were furrowed in the same way. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”

“What do you want, Hunter?”

Hunter fixed him with a long, hard stare. Crosshair used to be able to meet Hunter’s eyes no problem. Now he lasted fourteen seconds before he had to fix it on the wall to the right.

“Watch a holo with us? Wrecker’s got first watch.”

“You should, Crosshair, you can’t be standing outside with a cold anyways,” Omega said, reaching her hand out as if she were going to hold Crosshair’s. He twitched back and stared at her.

Hunter put his arm around her and pulled her in close to his side. Crosshair got the message. No matter how much his brothers talked about believing he was safe now, that they wanted him back, he’d never be able to see passed their love for Omega. Omega, who’d sprung up in his place and who’d never be capable of the evils he’d done.

Unblemished. A sacred, innocent child.

Crosshair knew his place.

“Cross,” Hunter’s voice, still quiet and gentle (why the fuck was he still being gentle?) snapped his attention back. “Just c’mon. We won’t make you stay the whole time if you really can’t stand it, but we picked a good one.”

Tech had rigged a holo setup for them all years ago in the bunkroom. The best view had been from Crosshair’s bed, which had been Echo’s since he’d left, and was now full of blankets and pillows and scattered bowls of popcorn.

Echo was on the right end, propped up against the wall and only half awake. They had started to become more like brothers before Crosshair had left, but now with all the space Crosshair had thrown in between them and their shared history of being unwilling tools, Crosshair doubted Echo would want to be closer to him than was absolutely necessary, save himself from reliving his past, so he settled on the opposite of the bed. Omega flew in and practically dove headfirst into Echo’s side, giggling and wrapping herself up in one of his blankets.

Crosshair looked away, the pang in his chest resounding through every inch of his body. Maybe he was sicker than he thought.

“Alright, here we go,” Hunter said, sitting directly in the middle of the space between them all.

It was a fine movie. It held Crosshair’s attention well enough, but halfway through he started drifting, the sound of the movie mingling with the rain on the metal plating of the Marauder and lulling him just enough that he found himself listing sideways. He didn’t even realize he was going towards Hunter until his temple hit soft civvies and he jerked eyes he didn’t remember closing wide open and lurched back towards the bubble of his personal space.

The pang returned, aching, raw, and Crosshair started to think he had a fever.

It happened again and again, and each time Crosshair’s heart crept further and further up his throat until his shoulders were up near his ears and he knew even Omega could read the tension in his back and face clear as day.

What did it matter, anyway, if the brother who’d abandoned him once already wanted him to stay that way?

“Crosshair!”

Chip or no chip, Crosshair was programmed to obey that tone of voice quicker than breathing.

Fortunately it was Hunter calling him and not a Kaminoan, because the less than regulation ‘hhhuh?’ he let slip would have gotten him at the least an extra stint in the labs.

“That’s enough. Get over here, we’re doing physical affection,” Hunter said, that same Sith damned gentleness only barely masked by his command and an underlying ripple Crosshair was loathe to admit was concern.

Crosshair hadn’t thought it’d be possible to be less comfortable sitting on a bed but the new tension seizing each and every inch of him proved him woefully incorrect.

“Shut up, Cross—”

“I didn’t even—”

“I said shut up and get over here,” Hunter said, leaning towards him and this time passing the invisible line that he’d been approaching all night.

His hand gripped Crosshair’s farthest shoulder and pulled him into his side, face squished into the civvies that still somehow smelt like plastoid and held him there. A blanket was being draped over him but Crosshair felt like he had after that damned operation. Something was lifted from him, dark and oppressive and it was so good it was gone but now he felt himself being carried downstream faster than he could take it all in.

Really, it wasn’t a surprise when the first tear fell. He supposed that was what had been building up in his chest, part of that pressure, for days now. But the grip on his shoulder tightening, the shushing and the hand that was suddenly cradling his head, unafraid of the rippling, ugly scars, that was nothing he had ever expected to have again.

Hunter just held him impossibly closer. Everything was blurring, but Omega had reached across Hunter and was gripping onto Crosshair’s hand. He found he was gripping back.

The blurring turned into the good, floaty hazy he so rarely achieved.

For the first time, Crosshair felt safe again.

When he woke up the next morning, not remembering the moment he’d lost the battle with sleep, Tech sandwiching him in against Hunter’s side. Omega was where she had been the night before, but Echo was sitting in a chair taken from their messhall, sipping caf and wearing the most ridiculous handmade sweater Crosshair had ever seen.

Wrecker wasn’t there.

“He kept watch all night.”

Echo wasn’t even looking up from the ‘pad in his lap.

“And yes, he was the one who made me this. Thought I looked too cold all the time for my own good.”

Crosshair snorted.

“I know, it’s ridiculous.”

Silence again. Echo’s eyes darted from the ‘pad but to his caff, not to Crosshair yet.

“They—we – really do want you here, Crosshair. No matter what.” He shifted a bit, sipped his caff before laughing. “I mean, look at me. I’m a screwed up reg you guys picked up without a second thought. You really think they’d give you up that easily?”

But they had, hadn’t they?

Echo finally met Crosshair’s eyes.

“Crosshair, Hunter beat himself up after losing you ever single day until we got you back. Still does. It wasn’t right but it’s what happened. You’re back with us now. You’re with us, so you can stop running, alright? Take it from someone who knows. Running gets you nowhere but alone.”

Echo’s eyes shone with tears but they didn’t fall; Crosshair’s rolled down his cheeks and pattered in a steady rhythm onto Hunter’s shoulder.

All he could do was look his brother in the eyes and nod.

#Timelady my dear this turned out really well #thank you so much for requesting thi #this #I'm actually so pleased #request response #Willow talks #Crosshair #the bad batch #Hunter #Echo #emotional hurt/comfort

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helnjk · 3 years

Text

She Used To Be Mine - R.W.

Ron Weasley x fem!reader

based on the song She Used To Be Mine from the musical Waitress & part of my showtunes fic list ! i’m sorry in advance for the ouchie

Word Count: 3k

Summary: when ron leaves to go on the run, she’s left a shell of the person she used to be.

Warnings: there’s major angst (but maybe a happy ending? you’ll have to find out), injury, & mentions of the war/final battle

lyrics are bolded & italicized

flashbacks are italicized

–

She is hard on herself

She is broken and won't ask for help

The field was quiet. It was as if time was frozen in their little bubble, not a breeze in the air nor a rustle in the leaves. Y/N hated it. The silence allowed her thoughts to wander in the direction she couldn’t bear to think about.

–

The Burrow was alight with music and happy conversations. Bill and Fleur’s wedding was in full swing and the crowd had made the most of this opportunity to celebrate life and love, even in the midst of a war.

Y/N could tell something was wrong with Ron. He hadn’t uttered a single word to her the entire night, only tightly gripping onto her hand.

They were sat at one of the tables, empty save for them. The rest of their friends were mingling with the distant Weasley relatives, grabbing a drink, or dancing on the floor. The silence was unbearable for her, something in her mind nagging at her to say something, anything.

To her surprise, Ron was the first to speak.

“I need to talk to you,” He said.

Y/N took a deep breath before turning to face him, “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, brilliant.” His reply was too quick, too immediate, and he realized his mistake right away, “I-erm. No actually, no it’s not.”

The pounding in her ears stopped her from hearing much else. The lively music and the chatter of the crowd faded around her, time had stopped. Her eyes blurred in and out of focus and her pulse beat almost unbearably in her neck. Through the fog, she could make out a few words here and there.

“We can’t be together anymore.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s for the best.”

This had come out of nowhere, everything had been fine leading up to that moment. Where had it all gone wrong? In the span of seconds, her entire world seemed to be crumbling in front of her.

“I don’t understand,” She managed to choke out, her eyes searching for any sort of answer on his face, “Was it something that I did? Is there anything I can do?”

Her voice grew more and more desperate, her body was flushed with heat. She could tell that Ron was uncomfortable, he was fidgeting in his seat and his eyes kept glancing towards the nearest exit, but she thought she deserved an answer.

“Look, Y/N,” Ron began, “With everything going on right now–”

“Oh don’t give me that excuse,” Y/N snapped and immediately shut her mouth. She didn’t know what had gotten into her, but she refused to believe what he was saying.

“It’s not an excuse!” He was agitated as well now, no longer antsy in his seat but face flushed with frustration, “I’ve got a job to do and I don’t want to–”

Whatever he was trying to say was drowned out by the arrival of Kingsley’s patronus. In between hearing his message and the chaos that ensued afterwards, Y/N had lost sight of Ron.

When the last of the Death Eaters had disapparated away and all that was left was silence, the searing pain of heartbreak overcame her and she was left an empty shell of herself.

–

A soft grip on Y/N’s shoulder brought her out of her thoughts.

“You alright?” Tonks asked, sending a concerned glance her way.

Y/N shook her head in an attempt to clear it from any unwanted thoughts and sent a soft smile in the direction of her friend, “Yeah. I’m fine.”

She could tell Tonks wanted to say something more but had decided against it, and she was thankful. She wasn’t in a mood to talk. Well, she hadn’t been in that kind of mood in a long time, and she could tell that other Order members were getting concerned.

Most days she sat alone in her tiny flat, staring out the window. The hours would pass her by too slowly and she itched for something to take her mind off things. Most nights she spent pacing a hole into her floor because she couldn’t sleep.

Not when all she thought about was how inadequate she had been for Ron to have left her like that. Like she didn’t matter to him at all.

Fortunately, or unfortunately, for Y/N, the telltale crack of apparition sounded at the house they were in charge of staking-out. The pair of them sent glances at each other before grabbing their wands and breaking into a sprint in the direction of the sound.

The moment the two of them crossed into the threshold, it was a flurry of spells and curses hurled in different directions. She could barely make out who was sending out what colorful jet of light in her direction, her mind had simply gone on autopilot.

Y/N knew how intense this mission could get, but she had willingly (and almost forcefully) asserted that she would be the one to accompany Tonks. Anything to get out of her house and not have to think for just a moment.

The next thing she knew, she was fading in and out of consciousness. She could vaguely make out a pair of strong arms carrying her and hear shouts of concern that sounded as if she was underwater.

–

Molly Weasley nearly brought her whole house down with how loudly she had screamed when she saw Bill carrying an unconscious Y/N through the wards of her home, Tonks right at their side.

“What happened?” She demanded, rushed towards them.

No one said anything as the three of them struggled to bring her inside and onto the soft surface of the couch. When they were satisfied with the arrangement, Molly repeated her question.

Tonks was the first to reply, “They were too many at the raid, it was overwhelming. I barely made it out with her, and I had to call Bill for back up.”

“We couldn’t bring her to Mungo’s, it was too risky. Who knows how many people You-Know-Who has on the inside.” Bill continued, and the Weasley matriarch nodded her head.

The three of them collectively let out a breath, but they knew that they weren’t out of the woods just yet.

If I'm honest I know I would give it all back

For a chance to start over

And rewrite an ending or two

Ron knew he had made a mistake. Well, more than just one.

First, he buggered the last conversation he had with Y/N and he wasn’t sure if he’d ever see her again. Or if she would even look him in the eye if he did. He didn’t want to end things that way, but he felt like he had no choice. Keeping her close to him was effectively putting her in the line of fire, and he couldn’t bear to do that to her. Not when she meant so much to him.

Then, he let that stupid locket mess with his head and his insecurities, and now he had no idea how to find his way back to Harry and Hermione.

With a defeated sigh, he took a step forward and twisted to the right. The familiar sensation of apparition enveloped him and soon he found himself just outside the wards of the Burrow.

“Ron?” Molly gasped, looking out the window to see her youngest son slowly trudging towards her.

Then, her eyes subconsciously darted towards the stairs, as she knew that Y/N was just a few floors above, lying on Bill’s old bed. This was going to be interesting.

“Oh Merlin what has that boy gotten himself into,” She muttered and moved towards the door.

Before Ron could even raise his hand to grip the doorknob, it swung open to reveal Molly. His eyes searched hers tentatively for any sort of signs of anger or ill-will. He found none and his body sagged in relief.

“Mum,” He choked out and immediately he was engulfed in one of her signature hugs. In that moment, everything seemed to crash down on him and he was wracked with sobs.

He felt like a little boy again, clinging onto his mother for comfort, and she let him. She rubbed his back gently and kept her other arm wrapped tightly around him.

When he had somewhat calmed down, he found himself on the couch with a warm mug of tea pressed into his hands.

“Want to tell me what’s happened?” Molly asked, taking a seat next to her son, “Where are Harry and Hermione?”

Through a few more tears and more cups of tea than necessary, Ron regaled what had happened to them on the run. Molly’s heart broke for her son and for the mistakes that he had made, but she knew that his intentions were in the right place. She could also tell that guilt was plaguing him for a completely different reason as well.

And so, after reassuring him that he would be able to find his way back to his two best friends, she decided to share the news of their house’s latest guest with him.

“I have something to tell you as well, dear,” she began, “It has to do with Y/N.”

The moment she finished retelling what had happened to her, Ron was out of his seat and was nearly sprinting up the stairs. The door to Bill’s old room creaked as he pushed it open, but it didn’t do much to stir any sort of reaction from the person inside.

Ron’s eyes scanned over Y/N’s tiny figure, curled up at the corner of the bed. He could feel his heart hammering in his chest as he approached, his mind still not having processed what his mum had told him. The person he knew her to be–strong willed, witty, and confident–did not align with what he saw in front of him.

And he vowed that he would do whatever it took to get her to be that person once again. To right his wrongs and rewrite how their story ended.

–

The sun had just started to rise above the horizon and the other residents of the Burrow were not yet awake. Y/N stumbled midstep as she attempted to make her way into the bathroom. She thought that she was perfectly capable of bringing herself to wash and get ready for the day in the shared bathroom, but she was proven wrong.

A small gasp escaped her lips as she felt her body falling. She was still recovering from whatever curse had been shot at her, therefore she wasn’t in full control of all her limbs yet. But she was stubborn, and she overexerted herself everyday.

Before she could hit the ground and cause even more damage to herself, a pair of strong arms caught her.

Ron’s bright blue eyes locked with hers and she felt her heart stutter.

It had been almost a week since his unannounced arrival, and she hadn’t spoken a word to him. She could barely even look him in the eyes without wanting to burst into tears.

Quickly, she gathered as much strength as she could muster and she stood, albeit shakily. No words were exchanged between the two of them, but Ron didn’t let go of her until she was safely in the bathroom.

When the door closed behind her, she breathed a sigh of relief. It was all too confusing, being so near him after all of this time. She didn’t know if she had it in her to actually have a conversation with him, not without bringing up feelings she worked so hard to repress.

Still, when she finished washing up and opened the door to the bathroom, she was not as surprised to find Ron still standing there.

“C’mon, I’ll help you to your room,” he spoke, holding out his arm. When she hesitated, he let at an almost inaudible sigh, “We don’t have to talk. I just want to make sure that you don’t have another incident like earlier.”

Y/N closed her eyes for a brief moment, weighing her options. Ultimately, she knew that risking another fall was not something she wanted to do, so she gently took his arm. True to his word, Ron didn’t bother trying to speak with her, but on the inside, his heart was stuttering at being in such close proximity with her.

And so began his habit of being her caretaker.

Over the next few days, it was rare to see Y/N without Ron by her side. He was the support that she needed, both physically and emotionally, though she never spoke to him directly. Her communication came in gentle touches, squeezes of the arm when pain would shoot up her spine or hitches of the breath whenever the redressing of her wounds would sting a little too much.

He made up for the silence on her end, whispering words of encouragement and comfort.

“I’ve got you.”

“You’re doing so great, love.”

“Let me help you.”

Little by little Y/N’s resolve began to crumble.

One night, as he dropped her off at her room for bed, she caved.

“Ron,” she said, watching his retreating figure. His whole body tensed before he slowly turned around.

“Is everything alright?” he asked, eyebrows knitted in concern, “Are you hurting? What do you need me to do?”

Her heart cracked at the sight of the man in front of her, so selfless in his love and care for her, even if she had been so cold and distant in return, “I–I wanted to talk.”

The simple sentence seemed to have broken whatever wall that stood between the two of them.

Ron swallowed, “Right, right. Of course.”

“You can come inside, you know.” She cracked a smile in his direction.

The moment he took a seat on one of the chairs in the room, Y/N had no clue what to say. It was as if everything that had plagued her mind for the past week had disappeared.

Before she could open her mouth, he spoke, “I wanted to apologize.”

“What?”

He nervously fidgeted in his seat, “For–Well, for how things had ended between the two of us.” Another pause. “I didn’t say what I meant to say and everything kind of just ended so quickly, and you didn’t–you don’t–deserve that.”

“Right.” Y/N nodded her head, her mind going on overdrive.

“And,” he swallowed again, nervously, “When I heard about how you got hurt, I–I couldn’t imagine what it would be like not having you in my life. Being on the run, I would stay up all night hoping not to hear your name on the radio, and when I got home, it was like my worst nightmares were coming true.

“What are you trying to say, Ron?” She asked, meeting his eyes for the first time since he sat down, “I don’t understand.”

“What I’m trying to say is that I love you, Y/N. And I want to fight for us, for our future together.”

To fight just a little

To bring back the fire in her eyes

Y/N was stood by the door frame, observing Ron as he packed and repacked his bag. Too much time had passed since he was last with Harry and Hermione, she knew that. It was time for him to try and find them, to go back on the run and make sure that they found whatever it was that they were looking for.

Still, her heart ached at the thought of him leaving again.

“Honestly, Ron, you’ve packed that bag enough times. You have what you need,” She teased, finally willing herself to enter the room.

His head snapped up, not knowing that she had been standing there, “Just nervous. I don’t wanna forget something and not be able to come back.”

She only hummed in response, wrapping her arms around his torso, savoring the feeling of his body pressed against hers.

“I’m going to miss you.” She mumbled against the fabric of his shirt.

Ron sighed and tightened his hold on her, “I’m going to miss you too.”

She leant back, making sure to look him in the eyes, “You better come back to me. Merlin knows I’d figure out a way to murder you in the afterlife if you don’t.”

The pair of them stared at each other for a second before bursting into laughter. He shook his head in disbelief at her statement, “Of course you would. And I promise I’ll come back to you, I just have a job to do.”

Neither of them moved from their position. They stayed wrapped in each other’s arms for as long as they could, slightly swaying from side to side. It wasn’t said, but both knew that Ron would have to make his leave sooner or later.

When the time finally came, he let out a breath and pulled away slightly.

“I love you, Y/N.” He whispered.

“I love you too.”

Then, his lips pressed against hers softly and her eyes closed. This wasn’t just a kiss to them, it was a promise. A promise to fight for each other, to fight for their futures. A promise that they would see each other again and that they would live the lives they planned out together.

–

It was chaos.

The amount of relief and celebration that those who found themselves in the Great Hall after the Dark Lord’s fall felt was euphoric. People gathered together in groups, tears in their eyes, hugging and laughing and letting out sighs of relief.

Y/N’s eyes nervously scanned the room for the familiar blue eyes she was desperate to find. She sat with the rest of the Weasleys, near the cot where Fred had laid, but he soon joined them in their vigil waiting for the last of their brood to arrive.

“Y/N!” A voice yelled from across the room.

She spun around to see Ron nearly sprinting towards her. A relieved laugh escaped her lips just as he reached her, tackling her into the biggest hug she had ever received. Unable to stop them, tears escaped her eyes as she gripped onto him, unbelievably grateful that she had this wonderful man in her arms again.

“I’m so glad you’re okay.” She whispered as they released their grips on each other ever so slightly.

“Me too.”

And then his lips were on hers and they shared a passionate kiss.

–

general taglist: @expectoevans @george-fabian-weasley @gxthsanrio @slytherinscribbles @harpyloon

message to be added or removed!!

#kai's showtunes fics #ron weasley #ron weasley fanfiction #ron weasley imagines #ron weasley imagine #ron weasley fics #ron weasley fic #ron weasley x reader #ron weasley x y/n #tw injury

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writingquestionsanswered · 3 years

Note

Hi! So I'm writing this story where a cold, calculating Serial Killer-Killer adopts the baby of his last victim (who was a single father). But I'm kind of stuck on what difficulties my main character could face (he's VERY inexperienced when it comes to taking care of kids and he's trying to still do his "job" of hunting killers). Do you have any advice on what problems I could throw his way?

Serial Killer Becomes Adoptive Parent

There's a lot to unpack here...

1) Why does this man decide to adopt the baby? If he's "cold and calculating" it's not likely to be out of affection for the child, a desire to experience the joy of parenting, or a moral concern for the child's welfare. Pretty much all that leaves is self-serving reasons, and someone who becomes a parent entirely for self-serving reasons is going to face different challenges than someone who becomes a parent at least partly for selfless reasons.

2) People can't just point at an orphaned child and say "I adopt you," and off they go on their merry way together. The only way that could happen is if he kidnaps the baby after committing the crime, and takes it home to raise it in secret. Otherwise, the baby would presumably be found by whoever discovers the crime scene, taken into police custody and then custody of Child Protective Services. CPS would look for the victim's next of kin to find someone to take the baby. If no one could be found, the baby would go into the foster care system and eventually be adopted by certified parents who are already working with the system and are waiting to adopt a baby.

3) That said, the only way he could officially adopt the baby would be if none of the victim's family or friends came forward and the serial killer was able to successfully falsify records and pretend to be a close relative of the victim. In that case, if CPS evaluated him and felt that he was a safe and qualified person to take the child in, then they'd probably release the baby to him and put him on the path to adopting it (which is a lengthy and involved legal process.) So, at that point, I think you'd need to consider whether or not this "cold and calculating" serial killer could appear to be a loving, responsible, and capable parent with the means to adequately provide for the child financially.

4) Assuming that the serial killer kidnaps the child from the crime scene, before it's discovered by anyone else, the challenges he'd face in raising this child would be much greater than simply being inexperienced...

Does this man have friends, family, co-workers, neighbors, or service people that he interacts with even occasionally? If so, how will he explain the sudden appearance of this child?

The discovery of a murdered man whose baby has gone missing is going to be big news, and that baby's photo and details will be splayed across television screens, billboards, and social media feeds probably nationwide. That will make things mighty difficult for the serial killer when he suddenly has a baby in his care, especially when that baby's face is currently big news. How is that going to work?

Required immunizations, doctor and hospital visits, daycare, and school are just some of the things that will be tricky for the man to obtain for the baby without a birth certificate or other official government documents. These can be faked, certainly, but every use of fake documents puts the man at risk of being found out. And if he's found to be in possession of a child who was kidnapped from his parent's murder scene, it's a short leap for the police to realize the man is actually the killer.

5) Assuming you can figure out a way around all of that, or if you simply want the child in his care for some amount of time before he's discovered, here are some general "inexperienced parent" issues he might come up against:

Sleep Disruption - babies and small children rarely sleep through the night and to a decent hour of morning. They tend to wake up (babies will cry) multiple times throughout the night, and are often awake for the day as early as four or five a.m. This can be challenging for anyone who suddenly finds themselves taking care of a child.

Feeding Issues - babies and small children require a lot of nutrition, but sometimes feeding them properly can be a struggle. They may not want to eat or may not eat the amount they're supposed to. They can be picky, entirely refusing some foods. They can also be very messy eaters, requiring clothing changes, baths, and massive clean-up efforts after some meals.

Crankiness & Tantrums - Sometimes babies and small children scream and cry incessantly. They might be tired (but unwilling or unable to sleep), hungry, gassy, in pain, frustrated, need a diaper change, or not feeling well. Sometimes, even if you try everything you can to address and relieve potential issues, they just want to scream. This can be very frustrating, even for experienced parents.

Parental Exhaustion - Babies and small children are a lot of effort. Not only are you probably beginning your day on a sleep deficit, you're going to spend your day changing diapers (8-12 changes per day for 0-1 year olds), preparing and feeding meals (several times per day), bathing/cleaning up, soothing when crying or tantruming, playing with them/interacting with them (making sure baby gets "tummy time" and crawling/walking practice), taking them outside/going for walks, cleaning up after them... It may be rewarding for people who want a child, but it's still mentally and physically exhausting, especially without help. And, given this man's situation (and all the things addressed in #4), is it likely he would have any help?

Aging - This is a long-term one, but something to consider depending on the timeline of your story. Babies grow up, and eventually they need companions, need to go to school, require medical care, and start asking hard questions like "who is my mom" or "why don't I look like you?" What will the man do when this happens?

Hopefully that gets the ball rolling in the right direction for you! Good luck with your story!

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bigfrozenfan-fanfics · 3 years

Text

Chapter 10 - Skalastet

Links: Chapter overview, Character list, Map, Glossar Rating: M over all Publishing cycle: each Friday at 6:00 pm CEST dst/UTC +2:00 on (link)

Remarks: all my chapters contain carefully selected music tracks. It’s your own decision if you want to use them or not while reading. The purpose is to musically support the respective mood of the plot. If you can please use a browser for reading (not the Tumblr app) due to the text formatting and music.

Ryder stood there with arms crossed, leaning against a kota and watched their friends from Arendelle talking to Elsa. The wrong moment to disturb Kristoff for a serious talk; he thought. But maybe that was just as well. He pondered and weighed his options, but he just couldn't decide what to do.

He was constantly thinking about what he had learned at the Norting, and he was now very worried about all of them, but especially about Kristoff and his great love, Anna. If this son of Gyda, what did Yelana call him ... ah yes, Kolgrimr, was capable of all these things then ...; Ryder could not and didn't want to imagine what could happen then. His father had patted him on the shoulder and congratulated him on his first Norting in adulthood and that he was proud of him. But he almost wished now that he hadn't known about any of this. What was he going to do? Should he just ignore Yelana's warning and warn Kristoff and the others anyway, or wait and see? What if they stayed here in the camp a little longer? They would perhaps unknowingly find themselves in great danger. Would they even believe this story and warning?

Behind him he heard soft footsteps rustling in the grass and turned around. In front of him stood his sister with her battlestick in her hand.

“Fancy a little Skalastet?” Honeymaren asked cheerfully and grinned broadly, “You need some practice“. But her grin quickly evaporated when she noticed his depressed mood. She came closer and put one hand on Ryder's shoulder. “What's the matter? You look like you've seen a ghost.”

“Me? No, there's no ... everything's fine. But stick fighting? Now?” Ryder warped the corners of his mouth.

Of course, it had been a long time since they competed, Ryder knew that and he also realized his sister was right about it. Since the forest had been liberated there was no reason to defend their home against soldiers from Arendelle, they had already returned to their home. But he could still remember too well the bruises Honeymaren's battlestaff had inflicted on him often. She was just one of the best fighters among them, fast and agile. Most of the time he had no chance against her, even though he wasn't so bad himself as he thought. Honeymaren nudged him in the side with the end of the stick and grinned mischievously.

“Oh come on, do we have to do this?” he asked.

“It keeps us fit,” she replied, grinning a little wider. It had been too long since she had shown him which of them had the say in the duel. But of all of them he was still one of the best training partners, she had to admit. She took two steps back, whirled her stick over her head and looked at him challengingly. “Go on, get your staff.”

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And Ryder sighed, “All right. But let's not overdo it like we did last time.” He walked the few steps to their kota and grabbed his long polished birch stick.

They walked a little way until the trees were a little closer together and started to tactilely stalk each other. “Come on Ryder, try to hit me!” She took her staff in her left hand, turned it casually around her wrist, and then went into a defensive stance.

Ryder dared a lunge and tried to hit her, but was too slow. His staff missed Honeymaren by far, she only had to take a step to the side and in one flowing movement effortlessly gave him a slap on his wrist. He cried out briefly in pain.

She laughed. “Come on. You can do better than that.” She bounced on the ball of her foot and made the stick spin around her waist.

Ryder looked at her grimly. “Whatever you say.”

Then he grabbed his battlestaff in the middle and struck with the ends of the sticks in quick succession, alternately, sometimes above, sometimes below. And each time, she parried his strokes, but moved further back. They danced around each other and the sequence of strikes accelerated. Sometimes he struck, sometimes she did. They jumped and ducked to avoid the opponent's strokes. Of course, both of them took light hits every now and then, that could not be avoided, but that was the purpose of the exercise, to be faster and more accurate.

The forest echoed back from the clacking sounds when their sticks met. They circled each other while searching for a gap in the other's defense, skillfully avoiding the surrounding trees. It was a constant back and forth, neither of them slowed down noticeably.

“Slowly I'm getting the hang of it again,” Ryder pressed out at some point, coughing but triumphant.

Meanwhile a few Northuldra, attracted by the sounds of the fight, had gathered nearby and watched their dance from a proper distance. Most of them cheered on Honeymaren, but there were also some voices shouting the same to Ryder.

Honeymaren slowly but surely gained the upper hand and pushed her brother back. In a desperate stroke, he raised his stick and swung it against her shoulder. But his sister was able to duck in time and in the same movement pushed her battlestick with force against his stomach area. However, he pulled his belly in just in time and made a leap backwards, directly between two trees standing relatively close together.

Honeymaren had intended exactly that, and with quick short strokes drove him back even a little further behind the two birches and then jumped forward. But not directly towards him, instead to the trunk of one of the two trees. She pushed off there, repeated it on the other tree trunk and in this way was six feet high in no time. Only now she jumped directly towards Ryder, the battlestick raised high above her head. This was a dangerous situation for any opponent.

Ryder followed her movements with his eyes and showed himself surprised. But in reality he had foreseen her move, timed the right moment and then whirled his staff around behind his back. He took advantage of the momentum, let it slide through in his palm on the other side, held the end in time and pushed the staff upwards. He hit Honeymaren at the thigh with force, causing her to groan in pain, and therefore took her out of her balance. Her intended strike missed its target and she hit the ground behind him and rolled to the side. Ryder, standing with his back to her, laughed out loud and raised his battlestick with both hands triumphantly over his head.

He was about to turn to her with a grin when a forceful strike against his feet took him off his legs and he crashed hard to the ground. His staff slipped out of his hands and rolled towards Honeymaren. She cleverly caught it with her tip of her foot and delivered it into her free hand with momentum. Ryder stared at her speechlessly.

“Well, little brother, you'd better watch your guard,” Honeymaren said, grinning but out of breath, and with these words held the ends of both sticks to his throat.

In the background, loud howling and the clapping of their audience could be heard. She finally took both sticks in one hand and with the other grabbed his arm to help him up on his feet.

Ryder rumbled softly, “Next time it will be different, for sure.”

They reached out conciliatory hands to eachother, but Honeymaren didn't let it be taken on whispering in his ear, “Dream on, little brother ...” when she pulled him to her.

One moment later, they both had to laugh loudly about it and walked exhausted and satisfied between the still clapping Northuldra. Some patted Ryder on the shoulder and one even gave him the compliment that he was getting better and better and it had been a great fight.

~~~

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Arriving at the camp, they first laid back their battlestaves, then Honeymaren looked at him with a serious expression while she rubbed her thigh where he had hit her. “You can't hide anything from me, Ryder, you know that. I know you too well for this. There's something important on your mind today. Please tell me.”

Ryder put his head back and closed his eyes for a moment. Then he looked at her with a forceful look. “All right, but you have to promise me it's just gonna be between us, okay?” His sister pulled her eyebrows together and then nodded.

“I promise. So ... shoot. I suppose it has something to do with the disappearance of the men this morning, doesn't it?”

“How do you know?” Ryder asked and looked at her in amazement.

Honeymaren tilted her head and looked at him reproachfully. “I'm not naive. I overslept today and father woke me very late. If he had been in the camp, he would not have hesitated so long, as angry as he was at me. So what happened?”

Ryder sighed and nodded. “Yes, you're right. There's been a meeting, a Norting. My first, as you can imagine. Yelana called it out and told us something I can't handle.”

“So that's it, a Norting.” She lowered her eyes and had a bad premonition. She felt her stomach begin to contract and said in a low voice, “Tell me.”

“Not here. Let's go somewhere quiet and unobserved.”

“Let's go into our kota,” Honeymaren suggested. He nodded and as they sat inside, Ryder told her in a low voice everything he now knew. Honeymaren listened very attentively and her face became visibly gloomier.

~~~

“Hello, Kristoff. Do you know where Elsa is? I was going to check on her, but she's not in her kota and I haven't seen her anywhere else,” Myrtha asked, who just stepped next to him. Kristoff looked up and rose. He now noticed another woman standing behind her.

“Hello, Myrtha. She's with Anna right now and hasn't been gone long.” He pointed in a direction where the four monoliths stood at the edge of the forest. “They were going to the waterfall to have an undisturbed private conversation. Sisterly conversations, I guess.”

His eyes fell on the small wicker basket she was holding in front of her. It was full of little birch wood boxes of various sizes, some of them open and filled with all kinds of pastes in greenish colours, next to them were various small bundles of herbs and a small mortar with a wooden pestle. The woman behind her carried a small bucket of water, and also some cloths and leather straps over her arm. He raised his eyebrows questioningly.

Myrtha noticed his looks and smiled at him. “Oh, that's not all for Elsa. I'm just making my morning rounds. There are always minor injuries and it is my job as healer to make sure everyone is comfortable. This is Ikka, my young assistant, by the way. I teach her everything.” Ikka gave Kristoff a shy nod. “Is everything all right with Elsa? What is your impression?” Myrtha then asked.

“Everything seems to be fine again, as far as I can tell. At least physically.”

“That's good. Some exercise will certainly do her some good. I'll come by again this evening, but I must be going now.” She nodded at Kristoff and left.

When Ikka passed Kristoff, she hesitated briefly and smiled shyly at him, but said nothing and then quickly scurried after the healer. Kristoff looked after them, thought for a moment and then shook his head before he sat down again.

“She likes you,” Olaf said after a few moments and smiled at him.

“Who?” asked Kristoff, who was already thinking about something completely different.

“Well, Ikka of course. Didn't you notice her looks when you talked to Myrtha?”

Kristoff laughed. “Yes, I noticed. But she's still young, and I'm obviously very attractive to her. She also doesn't know that I'm already engaged.”

“That's true,” Olaf confirmed, and fell into Kristoff's laughter.

“Which part of it do you mean? That I'm so attractive?”

Both snorted with laughter.

~~~

---

I hope you have enjoyed this chapter! Please leave a comment if you liked the story, I would be pleased to read your opinions, even criticisms. If you want to be tagged as soon I publish the next chapter please let me know.

Remarks: For the training scene with Honeymaren and Ryder my beta reader and I would have liked to have a fanart of HARU (@ xlayers), but since Ryder is not yet available as a model I took the liberty to make a small edit based on Jin Kim's concept art. It's just a pity that Ryder was apparently not intended to be handled with a fighting staff.

Tagging: @karma26 @whether-near-to-me-or-far @annaofthenorthernlights @igotelsapregnanthelp

#frozen #frozen2 #frozen3 #fanfic #epic novel #the broken bridge #chapter 10 #bigfrozenfan

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incorrectbandofbrothersquotes · 3 years

Text

Dear Heart - Chapter 10

Dick Winters x Melanie Davis

Summary: Melanie Davis is a nurse from North Carolina who has lived a sheltered life since her father died. Her father’s best friend, Colonel Sink, invites her to experience more as a regimental nurse for the 506th PIR of the 101st Airborne. She embarks on the adventure of a lifetime.

Tag list: @thoughpoppiesblow @primusk If you’d like to be added, let me know!

Word Count: 3.8k

A/N: First of all, sorry this update took so long! I’ve got a new OC to introduce here and I wanted to get her right. I hope you guys enjoy Juliet as much as I do :) Thank you again to @mercurygray for being a wonderful beta reader, as always <3

Warning(s): None for this one :)

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9

Chapter 10 here we go!!!

Haguenau, with its slushy streets and unpredictable explosions, was a welcome reprieve from the hellish woods of the Bois Jacques. The improvements were small, but they had roofs over their heads, food in their bellies, and rumor had it that later there would be showers. Unfortunately, danger still lingered close by - right across the river.

Melanie slipped and slid all the way to the company CP to check on Lipton. She was keeping an eye on his pneumonia so he wouldn’t have to go to the hospital. Dick had objected to this at first, but she assured him she could manage. Lip was too valuable to leave the company now, and Dick couldn’t argue with that.

When she arrived, she saw Webster - clean and fresh from the replacement depot. She nearly did a double take when she spotted him. Holland felt like years ago now. Though he looked much the same as he did then - a handsome young Harvard man.

“Oh! Hello, David,” she said pleasantly. “Glad you could join us.”

“Thank you,” he returned earnestly, for he knew she was the only person who said that without any sarcasm behind it. “How are you, Melanie?”

“Oh, just fine,” she said. “How’s the leg?”

“Good, thanks,” he replied.

Melanie had tended to him herself. It was a flesh wound, so she didn’t need a doctor. Just disinfectant, stitches, and a bandage, and he was good as new. She offered to cover for him if he wanted to get back to the line, but he refused. Now that she had seen combat first hand, she couldn’t say she blamed him.

She turned her attention back to Lipton. “Now, Lip, can I ask you to set those papers down at least long enough for me to take your temperature?”

Lip nodded and let the papers in his hand fall into his lap. Luz pulled up a chair for her. She thanked him and took a seat while the thermometer did its work. She leaned closer to feel Lip’s forehead, which was still burning up.

The temperature climbed and she frowned. “Still a fever. How’s the cough?”

“It’s okay,” he said, but then lost himself in another fit.

While she waited, another new face entered the room. A lieutenant she did not recognize. He introduced himself as Jones, and explained he was looking for Captain Speirs. As if summoned by the mention of him, the new Easy CO appeared. Melanie wasn’t quite sure how she felt about Speirs yet. There was no denying he was successful, but there was something frightening about him. He was so...intense. And she’d heard the rumors about what he did on D-Day, though she didn’t know if she believed them. Even having spent more time around him, she couldn’t make up her mind about whether he was capable of it or not.

Lip began to introduce Jones, but Speirs cut across him. “Listen, for Christ’s sakes, will you go back in the back and sack out? Lieutenant, tell him he needs to be in bed.”

One thing Melanie appreciated about Speirs was his indifference to her presence in regard to her gender. Ever the practical leader, he seemed to just appreciate that she was there. Man or woman, if there was help, he took it. She did wish he would call her Melanie, but that sort of familiarity took time.

“I can’t order him around, Captain, but I do agree with you,” she said, casting a stern look at Lip.

“I will, sir,” Lip said to Speirs. “I was just trying to make myself useful, sir.”

“You can do that by listening to the nurse,” Speirs replied.

“And you won’t be useful to anybody unless you get better,” she added. “Do try and get some rest.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he said tiredly.

“Very good,” she said, patting his arm. “I’ll come back by and check on you later.”

With Lip seen to, Melanie headed back to her billet. Now that they weren’t cut off, she had a stack of letters from her mother to sort through. She had only made it through about half of them so far, and though their contents steered more and more toward questions about her and Dick, she was eager to hear the news from home. She also had a few letters from her friend Rose, so when her mother’s letters got to be too much, she had something to fall back on.

When the first letter from her unread stack from Lilian began with a question about Dick and his intentions, Melanie gave up. She could never make her mother understand what was between her and Dick, and so there was no use trying to explain it. She picked up Rose’s letter and began to read. She made a face at its contents.

“Bad news?”

Melanie looked up to see Dick in the doorway. For a fleeting second, she took absurd notice of the bit of scruff on his face and admired it. He looked rather devil-may-care. So much so that for a moment she forgot her distress entirely. She shook her head to clear it, set the letter down, and nodded sadly.

“I’m afraid so,” she said. “My friend, Rose...her husband is missing somewhere in the Pacific.”

“This is your high school friend?” he asked.

Melanie so rarely spoke about her loved ones back home, but she had mentioned Rose more than once. Rose was married to Patrick, a Marine. They had a little boy, Jonathan, and Melanie was his godmother. She nodded again.

“Yes,” she said. “Oh, how awful…Poor Rose…”

“I’m sure he’ll turn up,” Dick said, trying to sound convincing. “Could be captured.” That was certainly wishful thinking. He’d heard that the Japanese rarely, if ever, took prisoners. But he wouldn’t poison Melanie’s mind with that information.

She didn’t reply for a long moment, her eyes fixed on the letter, deep in thought. Then she sat back against her chair and sighed. Almost dreamily. His brow furrowed as he watched her. She turned her face to look out the window, and the light illuminated the bruises that still faintly clung to her skin.

“This might sound like a horrible thing to say,” she said. "But you know, I sort of envy her. Husband, baby. Everything is...decided, it’s there. I know deep down that it worries her, having Patrick gone, but I...I envy that she had those things to lose." She looked at Dick. "Does that make sense?"

He knew exactly what she meant. Dick listened to the way some of the other men talked about their wives, and he did sometimes feel a little jealous that they had someone who was so counting on their return. True, it made the stakes higher - his frequent reasoning for not admitting his feelings to Melanie - but there was a certain beauty about that risk.

“It makes sense,” he told her. “And I think it’s only human. She may envy you that you get to be part of the action, while she has to stay behind. Or that you don’t have something so heavy to worry about.”

Melanie considered arguing this. If anything happened to Dick, she’d be devastated. But of course, that was not something she could say. And besides, he was not her husband. Losing him would not put her in the same position as Rose socially. She would only have comparable heartbreak. She decided to change the subject, distraught at the very idea.

“Did you need something?” she asked.

“Yeah,” he said. “There’s a patrol tonight. Sink wants you and Roe on standby in case of any casualties.”

“A patrol?” she questioned.

He nodded, his own displeasure at the idea clear in the slight downturn of his mouth. She wished there was something she could say to comfort him, but unfortunately, they both knew it was no good.

He explained the basics. Fifteen men from Easy Company would cross the river and try to capture a few Germans they knew to be residing in one of the buildings near the shore. Hopefully, they would have information to help the Allies push further into Germany. Melanie didn’t think the risk was worth it, but she didn’t have to say so. She knew Dick felt the same. But orders were orders.

“Alright, I’ll try and have some things prepared,” she said with a sigh. If she had time, she might have gone to Colonel Sink to ask him about this patrol and if it was really necessary, but it seemed decided. “Would you like me to come to the briefing?”

“Up to you,” he said. “I was just going to tell you to get some sleep while you can. Patrol sets off at 0100 hours.”

She expected him to go then, but he lingered, looking at her as if there was something on the tip of his tongue. She searched his face for what it might be.

“Is there anything else, Dick?” she asked.

There was, but he wouldn’t say it. Truthfully, he felt he related to Rose. After almost losing Melanie to a crumbling building, and wondering what she’d been through before those five days in the woods (which he still wondered), fearing that whatever it was had cost him his closeness to her, he realized he had done a lot more worrying about her lately. He was at the relative safety of battalion, while she had taken a position much closer to danger. The tables had certainly turned since D-Day.

He shook his head. “No, that’s it. Get some rest. I’ll see you later.”

He turned to leave, but was blocked by the appearance of a striking blonde woman. He stopped just before colliding with her, his surprise evident on his face.

“Crikey, sorry!” she gasped. She was English, based on the accent. “My fault!”

Melanie’s brow furrowed with confusion as Dick shuffled out of the way of the newcomer and her face came into view. She was beautiful with thick, wavy blonde hair, eyes the color of rain, and an enchanting smile. She clearly wasn’t military since she was in civilian clothes. Her presence was all charm and warmth, from the second she entered the room.

“Juliet Fletcher,” she said, extending her hand. “You’ll have to excuse the sweat, I walked all the way through town. You wouldn’t believe how difficult it is to get a cab out here.”

Melanie and Dick both chuckled and shook the woman’s hand. “I’m Melanie Davis, and this is Captain Dick Winters.”

“I see I’ve made it to the right place,” Juliet said. “I’m a reporter with the London Pursuit, and Colonel Sink said I can bunk with you while I cover the regiment.”

Melanie blinked, surprised by Colonel Sink allowing a war correspondent - especially one who was both female and English.

“Most of my colleagues went to cover our own lads, but I thought I’d see what the Yanks are up to,” Juliet continued. “I hate to be unoriginal.”

Melanie and Dick exchanged an amused glance as Juliet stepped further into the room and set her bags down.

“I promise you’ll be glad of the company,” she said.

“Why do you say that?” Melanie asked, curious.

“Well, there can’t be too many other women out here,” Juliet said. “With all the whistles I got on my way here, I’m quite certain we stand out.”

Melanie smiled again, feeling seen. Though the men knew better than to whistle at her. She thought it was out of respect for Colonel Sink, but really most of the men understood Melanie to be Dick’s girl, whether Dick and Melanie were aware of it or not.

“I’ll let you get settled,” Dick said, then he turned to put his hand on Melanie’s shoulder. “I’ll see you later.”

“Of course,” Melanie replied, her gaze lingering on him just a moment longer. Her eyes flicked down to the stubble on his chin again for one last look at it.

“Nice to meet you, Juliet,” he said, and then he was gone.

Juliet glanced between where Dick disappeared and Melanie’s face. “You two seem rather smitten, is he your boyfriend?”

Melanie flushed. “Oh, no, nothing like that.”

“Would you like him to be?” Juliet asked.

The pink in Melanie’s cheeks deepened. “Well - I mean, I care for him, but -”

“What’s the matter?” Juliet pressed. “Family doesn’t approve?”

“We’ve never met each other’s families, so -”

“Oh, is he married?”

“No, he’s -”

Juliet’s nose wrinkled as she interrupted again. “Does he want you to do unusual things in the bedroom?”

The color drained from Melanie’s face and her eyes went wide as an owl’s. “No!”

“These are just routine questions,” Juliet said.

“Are they?” Melanie wondered, shocked.

“Of course,” Juliet answered, appearing completely earnest. Until she burst out laughing, which put Melanie at ease. “I’m joking, Melanie. We only just met, I’d never ask what your boyfriend likes in the bedroom. Unless of course you need to talk about it, in which case, I’m all ears.”

Melanie blinked. She hadn’t met many reporters so she wondered if they were all as fast-paced as Juliet, whose mind seemed to run a hundred miles a second. She felt like she should be offended by the remarks, but she wasn’t. She found it all a bit silly. Which she appreciated after the news from Rose and the impending patrol. Juliet was like sunshine in this bleak and gray winter. She retrieved a cigarette from the box in her pocket, struck a match, and lit it, taking a long drag, and looking very graceful in Melanie’s opinion.

“Dick and I are strictly platonic,” she said. “But I appreciate the offer for a confidant.”

“Anytime,” Juliet said with a puff of smoke around the word. “I hope we can be friends.”

“Me too,” Melanie agreed.

“Seriously, I don’t have any friends,” Juliet said. “People hate reporters.”

Melanie softened. Juliet was not teasing now, she was being honest. Melanie saw it in her eyes, the loneliness.

“I assure you, I have no such prejudice,” Melanie said. “Now, what can I do to help you settle in?”

Juliet had packed light, which was to be expected. But she had brought along her typewriter, which Melanie was surprised Juliet was able to carry at all. It was heavier than lead, and would have had Melanie tipping over if she tried to travel with it. As they got Juliet set up, they got to know each other more. Melanie did enjoy being in the company of a woman again, and the friendship she felt reminded her of her time with Renee and Anna, who she missed a great deal. Juliet explained that she had met some of the 101st before while they were in Aldbourne, which was part of what drew her to covering their unit now.

“You didn’t make any friends?” Melanie asked. “I’ve found our boys to be rather friendly, especially with beautiful women.”

Juliet smiled. “Oh, they were perfectly kind. But it is hard to keep up once they’ve shipped out.”

“I understand,” Melanie said. “Why, my friend back home - her husband is in the Pacific and she gets so impatient for his letters. Of course now, he…” she trailed off, reminded once more of Patrick’s danger and Rose’s heartache.

“Was he killed?” Juliet asked.

Melanie shook her head. “Missing.”

“Crikey, I don’t know which is worse,” Juliet said. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

“That’s not the only bad news,” Melanie confessed, and explained about the patrol. Juliet listened carefully, brow knitting over her eyes as she took it in.

“It’s quite risky,” she remarked. “From what I’ve read, the war’s supposedly almost over.”

Melanie bit back a scoff. “Not quite. I wish it were, though. These men have been through enough.”

“You have too, I expect,” Juliet said. “Were you with them in Bastogne?”

“I was for the last week or so,” Melanie told her. “And I barely made it through that little.”

Melanie shuddered to recall those days. Not only because of the grueling nature of the battle, but also her distance from Dick. Things were beginning to get back to normal between them, but she could feel that he was still curious. She appreciated that he wouldn’t push her, but it made her feel guilty to keep something from him.

“I’d love to get your story, if you’re up to sharing,” Juliet said. “I’m sure you’ve got a unique perspective.”

“I’m sorry, but I’d rather not,” Melanie told her. “If anyone’s voice deserves to be heard, it’s the men who were out there for weeks.”

Juliet shrugged. “I understand. I hope you know your voice matters too, though.” When Melanie didn’t reply, she continued. “Besides, I’m more interested in this patrol you mentioned. D’you think I’d be allowed at the briefing at least?”

Melanie pondered this, grateful for the change of subject. “We can certainly ask Dick. Or Easy’s CO, since that company will be executing the operation.”

“Great! When can I meet him?” Juliet wondered.

Melanie admired Juliet’s eagerness. “I’ll be going by the company CP this afternoon to check up on Sergeant Lipton. Come with me, and I’m sure we can find out.”

“Perfect!”

The girls set out for something to eat. And Juliet was constantly making Melanie laugh. Not because Juliet was necessarily trying to be funny, but her remarks were unusual and amusing. Melanie felt like she’d been sent a sweet blessing - she couldn’t remember the last time she’d laughed this much. This winter had been the hardest of her life, and not only because of the weather. So much had happened to her. But now she felt like spring was right around the corner.

Neither Dick nor Speirs were at the CP when Melanie and Juliet stopped by, and Lipton was about the same as far as his illness went. Melanie introduced her new friend, and Lip was welcoming to her. Melanie once again stressed his need for rest, and he promised her he would sleep within the hour.

“I think Winters and Speirs are out by the river,” he told them. “They’re checking things out for the patrol.”

“Thank you, Lip,” Melanie replied. “We’ll go find them.”

She turned to go, but quickly realized that Juliet was not following her. The reporter was glued to her spot, and some of the color had drained from her face. She looked...rather frightened.

“Did you say...Speirs?” she asked Lipton.

He nodded. “Yeah. Captain Speirs has been our CO since Foy.”

She swallowed. Melanie’s brow furrowed. She guessed that perhaps Speirs was one of the people from the regiment Juliet met in Aldbourne, but judging by her face, it would not be a glad reunion. Juliet looked as if she were braced for impact. Melanie grew concerned.

“I understand if you’re a little afraid of Speirs,” she said. “He’s -”

“Hey, I ain’t afraid of nothin’ except spiders, which is completely normal,” Juliet interjected, somehow both defensive and joking. She took a breath. “Okay...okay, you may see some things…”

Melanie immediately formed a hundred questions about that, but Juliet marched out of the building and into the street. Evidently, there would be no explanation of what Melanie might see upon finding Speirs. Melanie eagerly followed Juliet outside. She tried to strike up conversation again, but Juliet remained silent. Her eyes looked straight ahead, and yet, they were unfocused. Melanie gave up trying to talk before they finally reached the river bank, where Dick did in fact stand with Speirs, looking out at the water and the enemy on the other side. Melanie cleared her throat, and both men turned their heads.

As soon as Speirs’ eyes landed on Juliet, the already thin air suddenly became colder and sparser. Melanie cast Dick a sideways glance and saw on his face that he felt it too. The tension was like a dam about to break. Juliet shifted uncomfortably under Speirs’ icy glare.

“Hi, Ron,” she said quietly. “You look - you look good. I know you probably don’t think so, since - well, you know. Not that you were ever terribly concerned about things like that - I mean, that’s not to say you aren’t nice looking - I was just - you know what? I’m gonna stop now. You look well. War suits you.”

Juliet bit her lip, clearly regretting the last remark, but she didn’t try to correct herself again. Speirs did not reply. He only stared at her, his gaze alone seeming to order her away. Melanie stepped closer to Dick, for a shiver had gone up her spine. Beats passed in strained silence.

“I wrote to you,” Juliet went on. “Several letters. Did you -”

“I didn’t read them,” he cut across her. His tone and expression were alarmingly blank.

She swallowed the sting of it. “That’s alright. I understand completely.” He continued to look at her in stony silence so she changed the subject again. “So, you’re a captain, now, are you? That’s nice! Congratulations!”

“Thank you,” he said hollowly.

“You deserve it,” she said. “Really.”

Speirs did not answer that. He only scowled.

Dick leaned over to whisper in Melanie’s ear. “What is going on?”

“No idea,” she breathed back. “They’ve got some sort of history, but I don’t know what.”

Dick only nodded and looked back at Juliet, who was becoming more and more despondent by the second. He decided to rescue her.

“Did you two need something?” he asked, so the group could hear.

“Juliet was wondering if she could be present at the briefing in order to cover the patrol tonight,” Melanie said, eyes darting between Speirs and Dick.

“No,” Speirs said shortly.

“Please don’t make this personal, Ron,” Juliet sighed. “My editor is really counting on me getting a story out here, and -”

“Well, she fucked up, Jules, she trusted you!” he snapped.

Juliet blinked, taken aback and wounded by the biting reply. Melanie got the distinct feeling Speirs was not talking about the story when it came to a breach of trust. Her mind was swirling with questions now. How did Juliet and Speirs know each other? What had happened to make him hate her so much? And could it be fixed?

Speirs took a deep breath and let it go slowly, his shoulders relaxing as he exhaled. He looked at Juliet again. “Your mother, is she feeling alright?”

“Mhm,” Juliet said with a nod. “Yeah, much better.”

“Good,” he replied.

With that, he walked off. Melanie was completely bewildered. Speirs seemed like he was about ready to spit at Juliet, but then he asked about her mother? It was all so odd and complex. Dick watched Speirs’ disappearing form.

Melanie had a horrifying thought as she watched Speirs depart and Juliet’s expression sink. When two people miscommunicated, and things shifted between them, the relationship could easily come to a devastating and tragic end. Melanie examined the change in her and Dick’s relationship since Terry assaulted her. If she couldn’t find the courage to share with him, would they become like Juliet and Speirs? All hurt feelings and unsaid intentions? What would happen to them if she gave into her fears and didn’t trust him with her heart?

#band of brothers #dick winters #dick winters x ofc #melanie jo davis #dear heart series #hbo war #hbo war fic #band of brothers fic

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classic80sand90smovieloves2 · 4 years

Text

Years Gone By

(Not my gif)(Requested by @ateliefloresdaprimavera )

(I felt this kind of format was better for the request.)

Michael Corleone x reader

D- Y/n is a family friend of the Corleone’s who’s been in love with Michael for as long as she could remember. Though the older boy had no interest in her growing up, old feelings come back and new ones develop after they stumble across each other in Sicily.

Growing up with the Corleone’s was... interesting, to say the least. You laughed with, hugged and kissed them, but a part of you was always aware of how dangerous they were. You knew the hands which held yours so fondly had also done horrible, violent things.

But you accepted that, understanding that there was a space between right and wrong in which the Corleone’s fell. A space which allowed them to protect you, your family, and so many others. Your own father had done things no one in your family was proud of, but his actions had allowed you to fall in with the Godfather and earn you a place in his heart and home.

You spent countless hours with the family; growing up alongside the boys and Connie. You could still remember all the giggle filled sleepovers you’d had with girl who was just a year younger than you were. All the family dinners, the days spent in the pool, the holiday and birthday parties. Oh the parties. How you’d blush as the older men and women would ask which brother caught your fancy, a question which made Connie’s nose wrinkle in disgust. She adored the idea of having you as a sister but the thought of you liking one of her brothers; at least when she as younger, grossed her out.

Growing up, most of the boys had little interest in you besides their occasional teasing and need for a substitute listener when their other brothers had no interest. Sonny had a habit of chasing neighborhood boys away from you, though his actions were spurred on by little more than a brotherly instinct to protect you. His blunt way of acting amused you but there was a brother whom you’d pined over for nearly your entire life....

Michael was a softer soul; quieter, kinder, calmer. His face the embodiment of Italian beauty: dark features and tanned skin. He was six years older than you were, practically a man while you were still a young girl. You didn’t expect him to return your affections, you only hoped and prayed.

You were twelve years old when he went off to college. He’d given you a hug, kiss on the cheek and pat on the head, promising you and his sister that he’d be home for the holidays. You were crestfallen. It took you an entire week to stop feeling miserable. Then at sixteen, you and your family went to live with some relatives in Sicily... so no more Michael, even at Christmas.

The Corleone’s kept tabs on you through the mail. You’d get at least one letter every two weeks, usually from Connie, which kept you updated on everything that had happened. Over time you put your affections for Michael on the back burner; you couldn’t live the rest of your life hoping he’d notice you, right? You had a few short lived Sicilian romances which were merely puppy love or convenience centered. No matter what you did, you had no luck with relationships. You’d practically given up on them; throwing yourself into your hobbies and chores. It was during one of those chores that you crossed paths with your past once more.

It was a beautiful day, sunny and warm, wildflowers blooming all around you. You’d been sent into town by your mother who’d entrusted you with buying a short list groceries. It didn’t take you long to accomplish the task around town, gathering all that you needed in just under an hour before starting your trek home.

You pulled your hair out of your face, adjusting one of the bags around your shoulder as you walked through the grassy clearing which led you to your families estate. That was when you saw him, flanked by two armed men and bearing an angry bruise on one of his beautiful cheeks. You stopped in your tracks and his eyes flitted to you, locking onto your face as his own morphed into one of subdued shock.

“Michael?” Your voice was barely above a whisper, pitifully quiet as you felt the world around you freeze. He stood still for a long moment, in fact, neither of you moved until you heard the men who accompanied him tease him about being hit by a thunderbolt. You felt your cheeks flush.

“Y/n.” His voice was soft but you could still hear it, the surprised tone which it held was not lost on you.

He took a slow step forward before he finally approached you, standing in front of you tentatively, completely unsure of himself for one of the first times in his life. You made the first move, throwing your arms around his neck and pressing yourself flush against him. His arms wound around your waist, pulling you in closer. A part of you feared him feeling your beating heart, knowing that it would give away your feelings for him and yet a part of you knew that things were different now. What was between you had changed, morphed from childlike fondness to strong attraction which coursed through every part of you.

So many questions threatened to spill from your tongue and yet, not one of them could leave it. The only thing your mouth was capable of saying was “how”, a bewildered inquiry which made him chuckle, a handsome laugh that you felt deep in your stomach. He assured you that it was a long story, offering that he could perhaps tell it to you another time.

Another time. The promise of seeing him again after today sent a flurry of joy through you. You were unsure of what to say, even after you matured and experienced the world, you still felt so juvenile compared to him. No, that wasn’t it, you didn’t feel as though you were younger than him, it was just that his mere presence turned you back into that shy little girl which snuck glances at him at the dinner table.

“My parents, they’d love to see you again. Why don’t you join us for dinner?” The invitation brought a smile to his face, a breathtakingly, heart stopping smile which had butterflies fluttering inside you.

“I’d love to. If it isn’t any trouble.” He answered.

“None at all.” You replied and nodded your head towards the beaten path in front of you.

The two of you began walking, attempting to speak as old friends should though the flustered feelings which possessed you did not leave, instead it grew, along with a desire that settled deep within you. The desire to touch him, hold him, kiss him. He was right beside you, walking beside you in a meadow like a dream you’d had as a little girl. You wished that you were alone and that you could stay that way for longer than the short journey back to your home.

The instant you returned, your mother burst through the front door, a bright smile plastered on her face as she embraced the young man. Her jovial greeting allowing you the chance to slip away and compose yourself; checking the mirror, straightening out your hair and dress. When your mother entered the house she was ushering in the smiling man who was trying his best to answer her rapid fire questions and accept her praise. You gave him a small smile, an apologetic look gracing your features. He merely smiled in return, eyes lingering on your face a moment longer than they should.

Your mother kept him busy until dinner, fluttering around the kitchen while talking about this and that. You sat on a chair next to the door of the kitchen, sneaking glances at him whenever you deemed it safe. Your father joined the three of you just before your meal was finished cooking, asking the same questions that your mother had as he led him to sit at the dining room table. More of your relatives joined them as more time passed; their voices and laughter carrying throughout the house.

It was only a few moments later that you entered the room, carrying a few bowls into the room and setting them on the table before you sat down. Your mother entered shortly after you with the rest of the food, making everyone's plates before she herself sat. You stayed relatively quiet as your parents made conversation with him, feeling as shy as ever in his presence. It was halfway through dinner that your mother had asked the question. You were honestly surprised that it had taken so long to be brought up, you half expected her to ask it within the same breath as her greeting.

“So Michael, have you found yourself a nice girl?” She’d asked, her hands folded under her chin, a curious inviting smile on her lips. He’d closed his eyes with a smile of his own, it was the first time you’d ever seen him slightly flustered.

“No, no, I haven’t. But that does bring me to what I would like to ask,” He paused, taking a sip of his wine and dabbing his mouth with a napkin. “I would like to court your daughter if you; and she, will allow me to.”

Your eyes widened, heart skipping a beat as you wondered whether your ears had betrayed you. He looked over to you, his eyes searching yours as he smiled at you. Your shocked face changed into a thousand-watt smile as your head whipped between your parents; who seemed just as shocked as you’d been. In an instant the room erupted into joyous cheers. Kisses, handshakes and hugs were exchanged, relatives insisted that “they just knew it would happen” and throughout all the chaos his eyes would meet yours, adoration shining in their darkness.

Many people say that time flies when you’re in love and only now could you understand what they meant. You and Michael began the courting process: taking long walks together, eating dinners with your family, spending entire evenings at each others sides. An hour felt like minutes when you were with him. No amount of time was ever enough.

You’d admitted your childhood crush to him, sitting beside each other, shaded by a tree down a trail by your home. Embarrassment painted your features but the confession brought him more joy than you could ever imagine. The thought of you loving him for so long was akin to a dream.

He told you how he felt the first time he saw you in return, describing your beauty, your smile, the way you felt in his arms. His words stoked a fire in your soul, a feverish desire took hold of you once more. You were suddenly aware of how close he was to you in that moment and then you were aware of his slow moments closer, the leaning of his head, the heat of his breath.

He pressed his lips to yours, soft at first before it grew hungry. His hands moving to your face, sliding down the back of your head, thumbs resting on your collar before finding your waist. Your arms encircled his neck, fingers finding his hair as heat coursed through you. The two of you refused to stop until your lungs screamed for air, only then did he part from you, his forehead pressing itself to yours, nose nuzzling your cheek. It was then that he said the magic words, breathed them into the warmth between you as your heart beat frantically.

“Marry me.” His voice nothing more than a whisper. Tears filled your eyes as you accepted as quickly as you could, allowing him to pull you into another feverish kiss.

A flurry of arrangements happened around you. Flowers, music, food, dresses, invitations, decorations; it was enough to make your head spin and yet it was the happiest you’d ever been.

The wedding was beautiful; traditional and everything you could have ever hoped for. The look on his face when he saw you in your dress for the first time was enough to bring a tear to your eye. Never in your life had you seen a man so enamored with someone, let alone you. He spent the entire day calling you beautiful, even apologizing for saying it so much as the two of you danced. You assured him that you didn’t mind, a smile on your face as you leaned in to kiss him.

The entire event was captured in dozens of photos, photos which you wanted both for yourself and for his family; though undoubtedly they would wish to have their own get-together for the joyous occasion. A second wedding just for them. You both planned on returning to America in a month, you’d spend the rest of your time in Sicily at the home his family had gotten for him.

It was in that house that the two of you consummated your marriage, your bodies wrapped around each other and your hands caressing whatever they could find. Everything was perfect and you felt as though it always would be just as long as you stayed in his arms.

True to your plans, after a month of marriage, the two of you packed your things and began your journey to his families home. You exchanged tight hugs and joyful kisses with his family; all of them ecstatic over how things had turned out. His mother repeating what you’d already heard so many times before: “I knew you’d end up together. I always thought you’d make such a beautiful couple. And the babies! Oh the babies!”.

Like you thought, the family hosted their own huge event in their gorgeous backyard. A whole new set of photographs were taken, a whole new cake cut, and presents collected. You’d never seen any of the Corleone’s so happy.

By the end of the day you were exhausted yet smiling, tiredly swaying back and forth with Michael to the bands slow music. He pressed soft kisses to the side of your face, nuzzling into you for a moment before pulling away just enough to look into your eyes.

“Welcome to the family.” He whispered. His lips met yours in a slow kiss, sending your heart into a fit of frantic beats as though it were the first time his lips had touched your own.

#70s movie headcanons #70s movie imagines #70s movie headcanon #70s movie imagine #the godfather imagine #the godfather headcanons #the godfather headcanon #the godfather imagines #michael corleone imagine #michael corleone headcanons #michael corleone fic #michael corleone headcanon

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mc-critical · 3 years

Note

Okay hi its me again💜 i enjoyed your answers to my questions but im here again lol

My Question now is probably annoying or hard but i asked another page a while ago and they said it was too hard (had to re search a lot for it) but i find it very interesting.

Ranking All Imperial Sultanas from MC/MCK by how Influental/powerful they were,would be very happy if u made a list with reasonings i love yours blogs and how well they're formulated.

I'll have to agree with the other page you've asked this question that it's going to be hard answering to it when it comes to history. There's still stuff we don't know for sure (we don't even know precisely how much political influence Hürrem actually had historically!) and there is a lot of research to be done in order to give a full perspective.

That's why I'm going to limit myself to the show. While I feel the hierarchy is even more of a mess there, the conclusions one can drive are far more clear cut, especially when it comes to the evolution of power being explored on a thematic level through the Sultanate of Women.

That said, for me, the most powerful and influential sultana in the show is Kösem. She got the most from the power as a sultan's favourite and the power as a valide. She had the support of both the people and the Jannisary. She was a regent during the early years of Murat's reign and even after Murat took away her regency, she could run her foundations and had meetings that were her making decisions about the state. She represented the state almost her whole life to the point she went as far as to remove every single threat that stood in its way. Out of all the sultanas, she was the one who had the most chance to utilize and extend her power, yet she was the one with the most opposition from people who were capable of anything to take her down. She fought with enemies that put her under constant pressure, but also had their fair share of power and it was a lot more possible for the odds to turn in their favor when it came to it. Kösem managed to overcome all of them not only through sheer force of will, but also through the sheer confidence in the amount of power she wields (and the way she uses it).

The two most important "branches" of Kösem's power that make her stand out among the rest are the reach her power has and her experience. Kösem's touch of power was relatively early - Ahmet and Mustafa, the the most important people in the whole empire, were in their death beds, Handan, the Valide Sultan, didn't know what to do when everyone else was only seeking their own benefit, and the only one who could stand up to the people in what was a massive revolt, was Kösem. By expressing the confidence that the sultan was okay, she represented the country as early as episode 7, she gained another, new wave of respect in the harem and it all unraveled from there. She was starting to "lose" her innocence, she clashed with arguably the most powerful people in the harem (Safiye and Halime + Dilruba), Ahmet, for all he was, acted very "loosely" with her, in terms of what he permitted her to do when it came to the boundaries of her power in the harem and his heart, he relied on her to make decisions when he couldn't, he looked up to her, he sought her advice, he even left the state in her hands in the end. Thanks to the evolution of the SOW, now that very powerful and influential women are the norm in the harem rather than the exception, Kösem was both in a precarious, yet very powerful position, she grasped what the ones before her had and yet got to lengths no one else before (or after her, show-wise) did. Her power spread everywhere, she had so many areas of influence, to the point Murat, the padişah himself, felt overshadowed by all that. But most importantly, she reached out to the people, they all loved and respected her. No sultana was as close to her people as Kösem and I feel that's the most valuable power one could have.

I would put Safiye as second. She's been in power for so many years and she perceives her own power as so massive it's hard for her to let go of. Her dresses, morning routines, material possessions, servants were exemplary. She was so influential in the harem that she was still pretty much perceived as a Valide, even when she already wasn't. She was apparently close to Queen Elizabeth in the show, as well. She also had foundations, even though reaching to the people was far from her first priority. What brings her down for me, is that her influence began to waver slowly, but surely, ever since she was imprisoned in that tower. (yes, she still had a concubine to poison Ahmet, but still...) She lost from Kösem eventually, but she still had very strong presence and was a remarkable member of the SOW. Something from her was left even when she was at her "weakest" - the person manipulating Osman.

I don't know where to put Turhan, to be honest. She was certainly very influential, because she could amass people to her side and staged this massive coup and what helped even further, is her being in a high position from the very beggining and her thematic role in the evolution of power in the SOW, that while everyone else there had their power from their positions as favorites to some extent, at least, Turhan got it solely from herself and what she achieved on her own, because the love and favor from the padişah in her case, was absent at best. But.... her achievements and early apparent upper hand at first only stemmed from the fact that she was Kösem's shadow, she was essentially fooling her and playing with her trust. That is surely bold and the amount of time she succeeded to win in her hands is definetly something, but that facade could last only so far and when it dropped.... Kösem and Turhan were pretty much on equal ground. They were doing move after move and Turhan won only because she used Kösem's weakness. And her weakness.. wasn't the amount of power she wielded. Turhan manipulated her to let go of her personal restraints, which was what she thrived in, but that wasn't really related to power. Power was what Turhan wanted to get, not what she fully had. The same goes with influence. The spheres of Kösem and Safiye's influences were also much bigger than what Turhan ever got and no matter how well she twisted her words, her stunt could even become ineffectual later on, because she has neither ideals, nor principals, but we cannot deny she went way beyond her predecessors for the thing she craved, so I guess she could be here for now.

The Halime and Dilruba (+Davud) faction is not to be underestimated at all. Despite that, similarly to (one aspect of) Turhan, most of their power came from their ruthlessness and how much they were willing to use it. It's interesting, because Halime's most "powerful and influential" was her at her most desperate point, when she seemed to be losing control, because when everyone (the Jannisary especially) learned about Mustafa's condition, no one wanted him to be their sultan, and when Mustafa was dethroned and Osman was the one who ruled. The faction being ready to do anything to be in power and win caused them to beat Kösem in certain instances and were the reason for one of her biggest losses. As far as I recall, they were setting people against Osman and they were also fueling the fire around him, as well as the other stuff. Their opportunism is also a key thing in their power, while it could be also Halime's flaw, when it was her strenght, it fully showed. Knowing when to act (post-E25 Halime and especially Dilruba) and circling around all sides (pre-E25 Halime) is important and advantageous, compared to those who are more direct in their motives. However, when that ruthlessness of the faction is gone, they end up believing way too much in their own victory, hence they let themselves get off guard. Which is what, as well as their ruthlessness that caused Kösem to act even more against them, brought them to their end. And Halime herself could act very irrationally when the opportunity finally seems to come for her, which made her fall under Safiye's traps.

Nurbanu had enough power to guide Selim, hide his mistakes and win him supporters in a way, even though I'm sure she could also be pretty independent of him. She also ended up defeating Hürrem, all things considered. She was cunning enough and she gained influence considerably fast, judging by MC's themes, of course. However, we didn't see much of her influence outside of Selim in the show and seemed to have opposition quickly after her supposed victory was approaching, with the Safiye case she didn't have the upper hand in, in the end. (though it hadn't been such an easy battle, I'm certain of that.) Nurbanu is definetly the most powerful and influential concubine of a prince, but would she be more powerful than the current/future valides before her? I can't say for sure.

While I don't see her as the most powerful and influential sultana of the franchise, Hürrem definelty brought something new to the table, especially in regards to all the traditions she broke, her more extensive foundation work and her getting in contact with the statesmen, along with vast political allies. Hürrem was the sultana whose power stemmed from her favorable position, but that alone. And thanks to both SS and the themes and the time period, that also could only go so far. Her fatal flaw (the fixation of her enemies and her taking the more opportunistic political allies instead of truly testing their loyalty) made her political alliances become unstable in the end. She had her severe amount of influence, but that influence... seemed to disappear little by little when she seemed to be losing, especially when it came to Rüstem. Her power comes from Süleiman and if/when he dies, Hürrem loses absolutely everything. She has her fair amount of legacy, of course, especially with the favorable treatment and her marriage and how far could one start going on the road of power (though that was more on the themes that set Hürrem as a trendsetter for similar character arcs, not so much on Hürrem herself, but it's stil there), but there're sultanas more powerful than her.

I don't think I'm going to go through all the dynastic sultanas when it comes to power, because their characters and arcs are very rarely connected to power. Still, I find the most powerful and influential dynastic sultanas of MC to be Şah and Mihrimah, and of MCK: Hümaşah. Şah is especially there when it comes to influence and how many things she succeeded to pull off, to the point she could beat both Hürrem and Mihrimah, if she truly wanted to, and Mihrimah had SS's favor and her own growing confidence in her own capabilities, which is also very important. Hümaşah has her power as Safiye's daughter and then, very loosely, as a harem ruler, even though she's not more powerful than her or most of the MCK sultanas.

Ayşe Hafsa had her own fair share of power as a Valide Sultan. She wasn't that massively influential and she didn't weave political plots, but she was very strong in the harem, which she ruled with grace and poise. She had everyone there obey, respect and at times even fear her and she didn't give up so easily in her fight with Hürrem. She was a tough opponent precisely because of the power she had in the harem and even Hürrem admitted she was looking up to her to an extent. Everyone listened to her sound advice and SS considered her his conscience, even though she slowly lost her influence of him in S02B. (and even then SS still cared for her enough, of course)

A bit of a bizarre opinion maybe, but I put Gülbahar and Mahidevran next to each other when it comes to the power they wield in their respective shows. That's mostly when it comes to the vast amount of supporters they both have gained whether it's thanks to their sons or their own personalities, which could put them a step above their rivals at times. (the "Mahidevran is dependent on others" remark.... could actually be as much her advantage as is Gülbahar's seek of supporters and how she uses that.) Both have sons they strive to advice in their own beliefs and while sometimes they may not listen, they respect their mothers a lot. Both gain their strength and power without being favored by their respective sultans. Mahidevran's power shows much more when she rules her harem in Manisa, as she she shows decisiveness and justice and yet can use the same firm hand Valide Hafsa once used with her when necessary. Gülbahar's power shows much more in the castle with all the reach she has thanks to her supporters, along with her big ambition to get what's hers. I would put Gülbahar before Halime and Mahidevran after Ayşe Hafsa in this list.

In theory, Handan had a lot of power as a Valide, but she could by no means adapt to it. She was trying to exert it as much as possible, yet she never discovered how exactly to do it, and when she seemed close to discovering, someone either worked behind her back or everything just went all wrong. Nearly everyone's lack of respect thanks to Safiye's influence was even harder to get over. Handan wasn't suited for this harem life and her only solaces were her son and Derviş. Power wasn't Handan's thing at all, still she was an awesome character.

Farya and Ayşe are a tricky case. While Farya was the closest person to Murat ever being favorable to someone (besides Atike, actually no wonder they're besties!) and he married her, she didn't have the safest position in the castle, because she couldn't have children for the longest time. What Farya got in the end was only a slightly more favorable position that could end at any given time and Kösem becoming her enemy didn't help, either. Ayşe practically ranked above Farya as a mother of Murat's children, but her relationship with Murat was strained, at the very least, and that could pretty much cost her her life. Gülbahar only took advantage of her. The girl was stuck in an abusive and toxic relationship and all she could do to end it, was take her own life and that of her children. Thing is, we're talking Murat and he's as abusive and toxic with all his women as he can get, along with his fear for someone to betray or outshine him, so there's only so much power you can get during his unpredictable and (both direct and deep-seated) anger induced reign, so both Ayşe and Farya are on equal terms when it comes to power. Murat screwed both of them over so hard, I don't think there was ever time or a chance for them to seek such power and influence like others have and I don't blame them for it one bit. It's really, really heartwrenching, actually.

#magnificent century #muhteşem yüzyıl #muhtesem yuzyil #magnificent century: kösem #magnificent century kösem #magnificent century kosem #ask #therealhaseki #am I missing someone? (who isn't a dymastic sultana and isn't Sah Hüma or Mihri)

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writing-is-my-guilty-pleasure · 3 years

Text

Patient || Kylo Ren/Ben Solo x Reader ~ Part 4

A/N: Part 4! Thanks for everyone’s patience (lol) with this part - Uni has been incredibly time consuming and I’ve just been too tired to write anything - so I’m trying to write a few things in advance on my Christmas holiday! I think there should only be one or two more parts in this series, and feedback is always welcome :)

Part 1 || Part 2 || Part 3

Main Masterlist

Star Wars Masterlist

“What’s your reason?” Your eyes flickered up to meet Kylo’s after he spoke, trying to make sense of his question as your eyes unintentionally trailed over his face.

“My reason for what, Sir?” You eventually replied as you gave up trying to figure out what he was talking about. Why did he have to speak so cryptically? “You’re going to have to give me more than that – it could mean anything knowing you.” You smiled cheekily at him from your position at the end of his bed; this time he’d called you with a deep gash stretching up the side of his left leg. It looked incredibly painful, and you couldn’t comprehend how he was purposefully putting himself through this much pain just to see you – at least, that’s what you hoped he was doing, otherwise you were completely misreading this whole situation.

“You reason for joining the First Order.” Kylo spoke bluntly. “You’ve been fixing me up for months now, and yet I feel like we are still strangers to each other.” If you hadn’t just averted your gaze back to his leg, you might have noticed the corners of his lips twitch up into the slightest shadow of a smile – but it was gone as quickly as it came.

“Oh! Oh, right, of course.” You smiled. “Well, my father was the Chief Medical Officer when he was in the First Order, and on his breaks he’d always try and teach me as much as he could about medicine before my mother caught him teaching me things that were too gory or troubling for my ‘young eyes’.” You huffed out a laugh at the thought of your parents. “So I joined because I wanted to be a Doctor and to hopefully be the Chief Medical Officer myself one day – I love my father and I’d be proud to follow in his footsteps and be as half as successful as he was.”

“And I wouldn’t say we’re strangers – I mean I’m pretty familiar with your body by now.” Your eyes widened at the realisation of what you said, and you continued in slight panic. “Not like that! I didn’t mean it to sound like that at all, Sir, oh dear.” You sighed, deflated. “I look like such an idiot now.” You muttered under your breath, as you returned your efforts to applying some soothing balm to Kylo’s wound, and preparing the equipment you’d need to give him stitches.

“It’s alright.” Kylo peered down at his leg to try and see what you were doing. “I’m used to your tongue-tied manner of speaking by now.” You raised your eyebrows in surprise.

You let out a giggle at his attempt at a mild joke, and the rest of your visit was spent in friendly silence, dispersed with the occasional small talk.

“Y/N!” You jerked upright in your seat, blinking rapidly as you came to your senses, the memory of one of your favourite interactions with Kylo fading from your mind. Yasmyn was staring at you in slight concern. “Are you alright? I’ve been trying to get your attention for a minute now.”

“Oh yes, sorry!” You sighed, running a hand through your hair distractedly. “I’m fine thanks, just a bit tired I guess.” You adjusted yourself on Yasmyn’s bed; the two of you were having your weekly girl’s night – or as girly as it could get aboard the ship.

“Something on your mind?” Yasmyn asked sympathetically as she finished braiding her long, dark hair. “Or someone?” She grinned at you, wiggling her eyebrows. “Maybe someone tall, dark and mysterious?”

“I wasn’t thinking about Kylo.” You chided firmly, trying not to let your blush be too visible. At least once every girl’s night the topic of Kylo Ren would be brought up, as Yasmyn was always eager to hear about what the you and Kylo had shared with each other, because ‘even though he’s practically the leader of our fleet, nobody knows anything about him, and the gossip on this ship is so dry, your relationship with Kylo is the only thing I have going right now’.

“I never said you were thinking about Kylo.” Yasmyn grinned triumphantly. “I only said you might be thinking about someone tall, dark and mysterious. I never said it was Kylo, Y/N. I never said-” She was cut off as you threw a pillow at her face in retaliation.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

Another two months had gone by since Kylo’s incident with the ‘scavenger girl’ – although it was never too easy to tell the time in space, and you had gone from being someone relatively quiet and unknown except to those you worked with, to someone whose name was slowly being passed around the entire ship. This wasn’t your fault – you hated having more attention than was necessary – no, the only person you could blame for this sort of attention was none other than Kylo Ren.

Over these two months, he’d managed to amass a mysterious amounts of injuries – when you compared the sheer amount of times you’d been called in to the times he was off the ship or in training, you were finding it harder and harder to believe that Kylo wasn’t getting all these injuries on purpose. But try as you might, you couldn’t really complain about it, as every time that you were called to assist Kylo, the more you got to know him, and the more you opened up to him.

But the closer the two of you grew, the more the rumours started to spread around the ship; and they were very clearly not in your favour. Because the more you were sent to assist Kylo, the more your co-workers noticed, and the nosier they all got; every time you returned from a trip to Kylo’s room you were crowded with questions from those closer to you, and judgemental and resentful glances from everyone else.

By now, whether because of these rumours or not, you’d got a reputation for yourself, and had even been personally called by other high-ranking officers to personally assist them – if you were good enough for Kylo Ren, then you were good enough for them. And that was actually how you got yourself into the situation that you were currently in. You were currently attending a very important meeting regarding a mission that would put quite a lot of Stormtroopers at risk, so you had also brought various medical records and lists of all the medical equipment on-board the ship. You had also had to evaluate the percentages of how many soldiers would either die or be seriously injured, so the rest of the medical team could prepare the right amount of equipment.

When the meeting was originally arranged, it was supposed to be attended by the Chief Medical Officer, however he was needed elsewhere; he had an emergency surgery that he needed to attend, and he trusted you out of all the other medics to cover for him. Possibly because he knew Kylo…favoured you over everyone else.

“So,” General Hux spoke up, finally starting the meeting. “The attack on the rebel base will begin with at least a quarter of the soldiers on-board, as we currently only have a rough estimate of just how many rebel soldiers are hiding out in that base.” You nodded, typing out quick notes on your personal padd for later.

“We’ll most likely be sending about one third or our forces down to begin with – enough to scare the rebel forces and if needed we can send in reinforcements.” Hux moved tiny digital figures about on a screen, illustrating where each group of the forces would be positioned to attack the base. “The rest of the fleet will be on standby in case a new strategy is required and a temporary retreat is needed. I would hope that our forces aren’t pathetic enough for us to even consider retreating.” He turned abruptly, eyeing you haughtily. “Do we have sufficient medical supplies for the foreseeable casualties?”

You looked up nervously from your padd – you’d been making rough notes about this most recent plan so you could report back to your boss and he could begin to prepare everything.

“Yes, General Hux, I do believe that we have enough supplies.” You pulled yourself together, trying not to ‘um’ and ‘err’ your way through your sentence. “But of course, I will send all the necessary figures to my superior as I do not have full access to all our equipment, and in the case that there are any supplies we may be short on.” You added as an afterthought – if there was anything that needed to be ordered you didn’t want the responsibility to be solely yours. “One third of the forces was it? And the rest on standby…” You re-capped while scribbling down extra notes. “And my superior sends his most sincere apologies that he could not be here instead of me.”

“No matter.” General Hux waved away your apology indifferently. “As long as all information gets relayed I could not care less who is here in his stead.” And with that, he continued with explaining the various stages of the attack.

Then, just as you were retreating slightly back into the mass of officers crowded around the main screen, you heard someone speak under their breath; ‘Well, it won’t be long until she does have authority to all our medical supplies, considering she’s been sleeping her way to the top with Ren. And then who knows how irresponsibly she’d use our supplies.”

You stop where you stand, feeling a flush creep up your face, turning it bright red in embarrassment. You could see those nearest to you glancing in your direction with obvious distain and disapproval, as if they were imagining a future where you were in some ways their superior. You could hear whispers on every side, many of them agreeing with the nameless whisperer, and you finally opened your mouth to defend yourself, when-

“I hope you’re not insinuating that I, the descendant of Darth Vader, would be capable of behaving like a common whore on my ship.” Kylo’s cold, slightly robotic voice echoed loudly across the room, silencing everyone, including General Hux. Nobody dared to speak, and you stood frozen in a mix of fear and embarrassment. “Because that’s certainly what it sounded like, Lieutenant Kendell.” At this, a few people subtly turned their heads in the direction of the offending statement, and you turned to see a relatively weedy looking man visibly shrink away from Kylo.

“I- of course, no sir, I didn’t mean to offend you-” You watched him backtrack, stammering over his response as Kylo simply stood, watching him. “I-I simply wish to see our forces grow and thrive, and was only remarking that this medic would not be our best way of seeing this happen – I mean she may be far too inexperienced for such a role-”

“So you assume she is using me to gain status? Her family name far outranks yours in any case, Lieutenant, so such foolish thoughts are unnecessary.” Kylo interrupted, and the room seemed to grow darker. “You assumed that I would succumb to any such advances?” He took one single step towards the unfortunate Lieutenant. “You forget your place, Lieutenant. It would be wise not to do so again in the future. It would be unfortunate to lose a member of our staff because of such a foolish mistake.” With this threat hanging in the air, he turned, cape flowing dramatically behind him, to face Hux, who continued his speech.

As everyone began to settle down, you couldn’t help but let your mind wander as you replayed the conflict. You weren’t hurt by Kylo’s behaviour, more confused that he would go out of his way to seemingly defend your honour – you assumed he wouldn’t want people to know that the two of you were even relatively acquainted. You mulled over your thoughts, confusion fogging your mind as you absentmindedly followed suite and exited the room amidst the other officers, heading back to the med-wing.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

Later that day, after you’d relayed all information back to your boss, and sent him the notes you’d made, you finally made the journey back to your room. Luckily, it was your day off tomorrow, so you could afford to have a nice, relaxing shower that would hopefully clear your mind of the stresses of the day.

Eventually, when you’d got out of the shower and put on less formal clothes, (not quite pyjamas – these were your own clothes so your evening consisted of leggings and an oversized shirt) you just so happened to check your padd for any messages from Yas, when you saw a message in your inbox that was unread. Upon checking it, your blood ran cold – it had been sent 8 minutes ago, and it was from Kylo himself. Not another officer messaging on his behalf, but from Kylo himself.

You sat bolt upright from where you had been reclining in bed, and double checked the message. It was from Kylo alright, and it had been sent-

“Eight minutes ago?!” You shrieked, hurriedly scrambling to your feet, shoving your feet in your usual uniformed shoes, pulling on a long cardigan and rushing out of your room. It took you longer than eight minutes to get to Kylo’s chambers, but it was a decent enough amount of delay from the time the message was sent to when you actually saw it, that Kylo would be sure to notice that you were eight minutes later than you should have been. He didn’t even set a time; he had simply requested your presence in his chamber, but the underlying message was that your presence was to be requested immediately.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

About fifteen minutes later, you skidded to a halt outside Kylo’s chambers, having run most of the way there. You frantically tried to catch your breath as you smoothed your hair, trying to appear as though you hadn’t spent the last fifteen minutes worrying that your lungs were going to explode. You introduced yourself to the guards outside Kylo’s room, and no sooner than you spoke the door slid open, one of the guards gesturing for you to go through.

“You’re late.” Kylo stated after the door had closed behind you. He was standing at his window, back to you, helmet off.

“My apologies, Sir.” You began, taking a few cautious steps forwards. “I was…well, occupied at the time that you sent the message. Believe me, I would have come sooner if I had seen your request sooner-”

“Occupied?” Kylo turned to face you, his expression impassive as ever; his interrupting statement, rather than question lingering in the air. “I was under the impression that once your shift was over you no longer need to be occupied.”

“Um...” You flushed slightly, subconsciously running a hand through your damp hair. “Occupied…in my shower?” You avoided his burning stare. There was silence for a moment, as if Kylo was trying to determine whether or not he believed you without delving too deep into your mind.

“You are excused of your tardiness this time.” He eventually spoke, and you relaxed slightly.

“If I may, Sir, why did you want me here?” You ventured, rocking back and forth on your heels as you glanced around the (now) familiar room. “If it’s to do with the comments made in the meeting earlier, I apologise if I’ve done anything to-to damage your reputation-”

“If anyone was going to ruin my reputation, it would not be you.” He cut in coolly. “You are not exactly in a position to do so.” He gestured to a chair set out in front of his desk. “Sit. We have much to discuss.” You did as he said, shifting around on the surprisingly soft seat, trying to get comfortable. He too, sat down in a chair he seemingly pulled out of the shadows of his room.

“If you think it is better for not to…run into each other more often, Sir, I understand that.” You started, leaning forwards in your seat. “I feel like rumours about-” you paused, unsure if you could refer to whatever the two of you were as ‘us’, but decided to go with it anyway. “Us, have been following me for almost a week now and it could ruin any chance I have of becoming Chief Medical Officer because everyone thinks I just sleep around and haven’t earned my place because of my family name.” You continued in frustration. “And it doesn’t help that, no offence, you seem to acquire a range of injuries from who knows where, and nobody else seems to want to take up the job because they’re convinced we’re having an affair or something – I’m lucky my boss is sympathetic towards me otherwise I could have lost my job or been demoted by now.” The words seemed to tumble from your lips, unending.

“You think my situation is any better?” Kylo stood, beginning to pace around the room. “I have the power of the Force, I can easily tell what people are thinking, and they do little to conceal their thoughts in my presence.” He spun on his heel, his bulking form towering over you. “I will not be taken for a fool by those pathetic enough to believe such rumours. I will not let them defile my name and my presence, or yours-” he cut himself off as his voice grew louder in anger. You stood as well, anxiously wringing your hands.

“I appreciate that, Sir.” You said quietly. “I know what’s on the line for you, and I’m sorry that it got this far. Maybe it would be better for a different medic to attend to your many injuries.” You felt more dejected than you probably should – after all this was a professional relationship.

“That won’t be necessary. While I am sure your co-workers are capable at doing their job, I know that you are most familiar with what antidotes work with my body and what do not.” Kylo dismissed your suggestion.

“Well what do you suggest?” You asked, a hint of exasperation in your tone. “While I do enjoy your company, Sir, I don’t want our meetings to affect your image.” There was a pause as Kylo took in your words.

“No. I will not be bullied by my insubordinates.” You heard him say, almost to himself. “We shouldn’t even be having this conversation; I don’t need to please the rest of the fleet – I just need them to win me this fight against the rebellion.” He strode to stand in front of you, and you gazed up at him. “I should not have to change my behaviour for them, and neither should you.” You opened your mouth in protest.

“But Sir, I-”

“You are under my protection. If there is anyone giving you trouble, you will report it straight to me.” He stood tall, not like that was hard for him to do, and you swallowed heavily, in awe of the sheer power he radiated. “That is an order. Do you understand?” His voice grew quieter at the end of his sentence; but he was no less grand.

“Yes, Sir.” You replied, suddenly finding it difficult to speak clearly, a smile visible on your face for the first time that day. “Thank you, Sir.”

“I think we’re past the use of such formalities, considering that today you’ve been accused of sleeping your way to power and I have been accused of doing such with someone of a lower station.” He said smoothly, his face as clear of emotion as ever.

“How else should I address you?” You asked, slightly flustered. (And slightly stung by the ‘lower station’ jab but it was the truth.) This must be one of the most bizarre days of my life, you thought to yourself, mind racing.

“You strike me as an intelligent woman, Officer Y/N; surely you do not need me to spell it out for you. Obviously the usual title when others are present.” He said, now walking you towards his door, hands behind his back, his form looming over yours. “Just because I allowed you to address me as such in private, I must remind you I will not be as lenient when we are in public.” He said placidly.

You nodded in acknowledgement. Kylo it is then – that was the only less formal title that you could think of. “Of course. I wouldn't dream of doing any such thing, Kylo.” You saw the left corner of his mouth twitch ever so slightly at your words as he opened the door, allowing you to step through. “I do hope you don't over-exert yourself in training, or do anything to worsen your injuries.” You called as you started to walk back down the corridor. “It would be a shame to meet again so prematurely.” For one of the most feared men in the galaxy, he isn’t nearly as subtle as he thinks, your smile widening as you walk back in the direction of your room, and you could have sworn you heard a chuckle echo down the corridor behind you.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

Taglist: @ah-callie

(also tagging @joscelyn02 - just in case you wanted to know when the next part was out :) )

#kylo ren #kylo ren x reader #ben solo #ben solo x reader #kylo ren imagines #ben solo imagines #star wars #star wars imagines #star wars x reader #adam driver #Star Wars The Force Awakens #star wars the last jedi #star wars the rise of skywalker

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backdraft-bimbo · 3 years

Text

couldn't say just how I love you

Sam just wants to feel the warmth of another person right now, and that person just happens to be Bucky.

Yeah, that must be why, he settles; convenience.

Words: 1699

Chapters: 1/1

ao3 link

Sam squints across the shrimping boat as Bucky fiddles with his forearm. He’s barely made an inch of progress with it, yet the guy hasn’t asked for any help so far. It’s kind of ridiculous since Sam–the Falcon for crying out loud–is over here with two capable hands, ten beautiful fingers, and a proficient enough background in engineering to fix Bucky’s shit for him.

Broody Mcgee is either a whole ‘nother level of stubborn when it comes to accepting help, or he’s just a shy person, which Sam finds to be a hilarious deduction. Who the hell’s ever heard of a shy ex-assassin? Plus, this is the same guy who went chuteless out of a plane, flew face first into the trees, and had the wind knocked out of him–with all of it caught on camera. But for some reason, Bucky never asked Sam to delete the footage (before Redwing bit the dust), so he really doubts it’s a pride thing.

Maybe Bucky just needs a push.

“Do you even know what you’re doing over there, Buck? ‘Cause it doesn’t look to me–“

“No, I got it–“

“–like you know what you’re doing. You want some help?” Sam offers, raising his hands placatingly. “No shame. I worked on Redwing for years, so I’ve got my hands around tech before.”

Bucky grips his bradawl tighter, digging rather aggressively into his bionic arm. “No, seriously . I’m fine.” Sam cringes; he’s definitely doing more damage using one hand for repairs. The wires are all crooked in the part where the Flag-Smasher kicked it in–much more internal damage than Sam expected coming out of that skirmish.

“You are a stubborn man–and I don’t just mean that metal arm you've been poking at the last hour. I think the arm is the most agreeable part of you. It doesn’t complain any time I try to help it.”

Bucky groans, slamming his bradawl back on the boat table. “If I say ‘okay’ will you shut up already?”

“Definitely not,” Sam grins. “But your annoyance is noted.”

“Have you ever dealt with vibranium? ‘Cause if not–”

Sam stops him. “You had a titanium arm before, right? The one with the commie star on the shoulder?”

Bucky grumbles out an affirmation.

“Perfect,” Sam says, “how different can they be?”

A look of mild alarm crosses Bucky’s face. It’s kind of hilarious. “Well–”

“Forget I asked,” Sam says cordially, fully prepared to keep messing with Bucky. The guy is just so easy sometimes. He jogs over from the boat’s rusty bow pulpit and slaps his hands together. “C’mon, man, what’s up with your weird ‘I’d rather die than let Sam help me’ attitude?”

Bucky fleetingly glances at Sam, then back at his mangled arm, and furrows his eyebrows in that way he does whenever he’s deliberating whether or not to share something. Sam is unfortunately so used to Bucky shutting down that it comes as a surprise to him when the guy actually speaks up.

“It’s just frustrating, okay?” he says, voice rough and gravelly. “I know it’s stupid, but I don’t think I’m ever gonna be used to only having one arm.”

Sam sobers up a bit. So that’s why.

“I just...wanna be able to fix this shit up to prove to myself that, y’know...that I can do it.”

A few seagulls squawk overhead as Bucky’s words sink in. Sam doesn’t know why he’s never considered the possibility that Bucky might not totally be over losing his arm. Hell, Sam feels kind of foolish for missing it; he used to deal with soldiers coming back from war zones missing a limb or two.

“Nah, man,” Sam says after a thoughtful pause. “That’s not stupid at all.”

Bucky doesn’t respond to that, and Sam doesn’t expect him to. The guy silently shifts his bionic arm so that Sam can sit down and work on it, side-eyeing him like he’s weighing whether or not he should have said anything. I guess decades of being a Prisoner of War and brainwashed HYDRA assassin will do that to you, Sam meditates.

He and Bucky have had their share of falling outs. Hell, just a few days ago they were promising to take separate long vacations apart. They both said shitty things. So what? That doesn’t mean Sam can’t feel for the guy. He catches himself occasionally ruminating all that Bucky has been through and finds that he can’t go too long without needing a break. But that’s Bucky’s life; ain’t exactly like he can just take a pause from it. It sort of breaks Sam’s heart in a way he can’t explain; all those years Bucky can’t get back...

“Sam?”

Sam blinks, not realizing he’d been staring. The shadow of a smile has crossed Bucky’s face.

“Looks like I’m not the only one with the staring problem.”

Sam shakes his head, blinking some more. Geez. What were they doing again?

Bucky looks at him half-expectantly, half-amusedly. He gestures loosely at his arm. “Go crazy, man.”

“Right. Right, the arm.” Sam grapples with the tools splayed out on the splintery table, trying to recall what he needs with an odd sense of urgency. Why the hell is he forgetting everything? Last time he checked, empathy isn’t supposed to instill this kind of reaction.

“Take your time,” Bucky says... nicely? And all right, that’s another Bucky-related thing Sam has to set aside for later. It’s an extraordinarily long list, but Sam’s got shit to do right now. He exhales deeply and focuses all of his attention on the job before him.

It’s easy to get into a rhythm. The slight breeze and white noise waves blend together as Sam zones in on Bucky’s arm, the two settling into a comfortable silence. The atmosphere is sublime for fixing broken things–the Wilson family shrimping boat always seemed to do that. Sam wonders if Bucky feels it too; maybe it’s just his own nostalgia. Whenever Sam thinks of his parents on deck, laughing and telling anecdotes to their relatives...it makes Sam feel like an invincible kid again. He can do anything as long as he can tap into those memories.

When the wires start looking right, Sam can’t tell how long it’s been since they started. The freaking sea, man. Gotta be more careful next time. The sights and sounds of the shore are too hypnotic; before you know it, the seagulls have left and the sun is already setting on the horizon. Judging by the dimmer light, it’s probably early evening now.

Sam looks up at Bucky for the first time in what feels like ages. The guy’s resting his chin on his right hand, eyes closed as the invisible fingers of the breeze comb through his dark hair. And wow, he looks peaceful –a word Sam seldom uses when it comes to Bucky Barnes. The profile view is making him notice things, which is probably why Sam is opening his mouth before better judgement can grab him by the collar.

He stops fiddling with Bucky’s arm and leans forward.

“Dude, you got loooong eyelashes.”

Bucky shifts at that, eyebrows furrowing back into their natural state, and the idyllic moment is broken. All right, so Sam can admit that was a random, out-of-left-field observation probably suited for a different time. But give him a break, he’s been looking at wires for like three hours straight. Sam is nevertheless grateful Bucky doesn’t comment on his weirdness. The guy just glances down at his new and improved arm and gives Sam a stoic nod of approval.

“You didn’t have to do this,” Bucky says. “So, uh, thanks.”

“Still gotta test it,” Sam replies, strangely off-put by Bucky’s honesty. But, to be fair, there’s a lot of crazy new stuff happening today. For example, Sam must be getting old, because the moment he stands up from his chair, hoping to get some blood moving, a rush of lightheadedness washes over him, and he’s forced to lean his hips against the table for a second.

He shakes his head, laughing at himself. “Shit.”

“You okay?” Bucky asks skeptically, staring up at Sam with his big blue eyes.

“Yeah, yeah. Let’s just test-run this thing, Cyborg Man. I need a nap.”

Sarah must’ve put something in the carrot souffle, because Sam is seriously on a roll with odd behavior today. It might be because it’s Saturday and none of his family are watching, or because he and Bucky aren’t out on a mission for once, but there’s absolutely no justification Sam can think of other than complete self-indulgence for why he wraps an arm around Bucky’s shoulders. With his left hand, Sam lifts up the vibranium arm, bends it back and forth, nods to himself, and says, “Looks good.”

For a second, Bucky is craning his neck back, gaping at Sam like he’s grown a second head. As quickly as that expression comes, though, it’s gone a second later, and Bucky returns to his familiar guise of reservation, shifting his gaze to Sam’s handiwork, a faint tint of traitorous red rising to his cheeks. Sam leans forward farther, sighing heavily into Bucky’s shoulder, like they’re already at this stage of intimacy. But Sam lets the fact that this isn’t as per usual blissfully fly over his head, because he’s tired and sore and can’t give a shit anymore.

Sam just wants to feel the warmth of another person right now, and that person just happens to be Bucky.

Yeah, that must be why , he settles; convenience.

Bucky just sits there silently and lets Sam lean against him, the exhaustion drooping off his shoulders and into the creaky old wood of the Wilson family boat. He shifts for a second, like he wants to say something, but nothing comes out. Eventually, Sam is moving up and away, sliding his hands off Bucky’s body, a strange fluttery feeling enveloping him. He tries not to think about how much he didn’t want that to end, or how badly he misses the touch when it’s gone, but–

For another time, Sam promises himself.

Neither of them say a word as they walk back to Sarah’s.

#sambucky #tfatws #fanfiction #sam wilson #bucky barnes #ao3 #mine

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eleanorfenyxwrites · 3 years

Text

[It’s a bit late but here’s a quick oneshot for JGY&JZX’s birthday]

[Masterpost of my other writing]

Jin Guangyao’s hands are fighting hard to twitch in barely-restrained frustration.

It’s been a long week leading up to tonight, and tonight has been unending. He makes a tired mental note to start the next banquet at least two hours earlier than this one in an attempt to ensure it won’t end the following morning, but he already knows all that will accomplish is a banquet that’s two hours longer.

He straightens out of the bow he’d just offered to the last Sect Leader departing the hall to return to the guest quarters and turns away from the temptation of the path that leads to the private residences to instead return inside. The servants who had stayed awake through the night to tend to the guests have already been dismissed, but those who will clean the hall first thing this morning haven’t yet arrived to receive their assignments, so he sits down to wait in the silence.

It echoes in the too-large space, his breathing and the occasional rustle of fabric the only sounds that break it. He knows he should feel satisfied, accomplished. The banquet had, for once, gone without a hitch. Even Jin Guangshan hadn’t found anything to complain about once he was deeply enough in his cups, which was a victory in and of itself. No one had embarrassed themselves or their family too badly, and certainly not in ways that couldn’t be explained away with the expensive alcohol that Jin Guangyao had liberally plied them all with.

The only feeling he can muster, though, is ‘tired’. He’s tired. All he can think of is his bed with a sort of longing he usually reserves for Lan Xichen when he allows himself to indulge in wishing for him. He can practically feel the soft caress of it, the covers silky smooth against his skin and his pillow soft under his head. It would be so easy to sink into it and close his eyes, embrace unconsciousness for a precious pair of hours before he’ll have to be up and tending to whatever will be needed from him next.

He’s roused from his half-asleep daydreaming about his bed by the arrival of the morning’s servants and he stands, brushing himself off and painting his smile back onto his aching lips as he gives them their tasks as politely as he can, with ‘please’s and ‘thank you’s falling from his lips far more often than they should. But none of the gentry are around to hear him, and the servants appreciate his understanding of their job, so he just lets it happen. And then, mercifully, he can leave the hall. He leaves at a sedate pace because it’s the only pace he’s capable of maintaining. He holds his posture correctly because he will never feel relaxed enough in Jinlintai not to.

Approaching the door to his chambers at long last, he finds that for the first time in his life he’s dismayed to see Lan Xichen.

“Er-ge,” he greets, fatigue feathering the edges of the call. “Are you alright?”

“A-Yao.” Lan Xichen is already smiling as he turns to face him but it fades quickly into concern as they go through their usual dance - he starts a bow, Lan Xichen puts his hand under his arms to stop him and offers him that smile that Jin Guangyao would move mountains for. “Have you slept yet?” he asks as they drop their hands, lingering as long in the embrace as possible before they part, as is their wont.

“Was there something I could help you with, er-ge?” Jin Guangyao replies smoothly, pointedly not answering the question. Even as exhausted as he is if there’s one person in the world he would set it aside for without question, it’s Lan Xichen.

“Nothing urgent, I merely wanted to see you before the day truly begins. I feel I rarely get a chance to speak with you properly and this seemed the best opportunity.”

Jin Guangyao smiles softly, the smile that’s only for Lan Xichen, as he reaches out to open the door to his chambers and gesture for Lan Xichen to enter. “It is true that I will be busy for the remainder of the day after breakfast has been delivered to everyone. I will be ensuring that those guests who wish to leave may do so easily and that those who wish to stay will have everything they need to be comfortable. This is the best time to discuss anything you would like to with me.”

He follows Lan Xichen into the room and thinks longingly of combining his two greatest desires - truly the only thing better than falling into his bed would be falling into his bed which already also contains Lan Xichen - but he remains outwardly calm and poised as he settles in to begin preparing tea for the both of them. His hands tremble ever so slightly on the teapot but it doesn’t affect his pouring so he lets it slide.

It takes much more effort to keep his attention on the conversation than he’s used to expending when talking with Lan Xichen. Normally, of course, he has no trouble whatsoever devoting himself entirely to his companion when they’re in the same space and it’s everyone else that must work extra hard to earn the pleasure of his attention, which he still only gives them when it becomes absolutely necessary no matter how hard they try.

Today, however, the familiar cadences of Lan Xichen’s soothing tones are threatening to put him straight to sleep and he struggles to think of anything meaningful to add to their conversation. It is, thankfully, a relatively light one, nothing but small talk and some gentle flirtations. They’ve done this too many times to count by now, which is what saves him. The back-and-forth of it is familiar enough that he can manage to fumble his way through it gracefully enough to pass muster, to avoid alerting Lan Xichen to his condition.

They’re just discussing what the pair of them may do together during his next visit to Cloud Recesses when there’s a knock at the door and Jin Guangyao’s stomach sinks. He offers Lan Xichen an apologetic smile as he rises and crosses to the door, opening it to find a servant waiting, her head already bowed too low to see her face.

“Lianfang-Zun,” she greets softly, “this one is here to remind Lianfang-Zun at his request that it is time to prepare to bid farewell to those guests who are taking their leave.”

“Yes, thank you. You may return to your duties,” he replies with a smile. Always with a smile. The young woman bows and backs away, and Jin Guangyao must stand staring at the spot where she had been for a moment too long because Lan Xichen comes to stand behind him, radiating concern.

“A-Yao? Are you alright?”

“Of course,” he smiles. Keep smiling. “My apologies, er-ge, but I must return to my duties for the day.”

“Of course,” Lan Xichen parrots, still looking at him with that searching gaze. “May I return this evening?”

“I will be returning after supper, you are always welcome to join me er-ge.”

“Alright,” Lan Xichen agrees quietly, and there’s still a note of suspicion in his voice but he departs without further questioning or any fanfare. Jin Guangyao allows himself the space of three deep, slow breaths to close his eyes and pretend like that’s enough rest before he rallies to change his clothes and leave his rooms again to begin another long day of duties.

By the time he returns to his rooms in the evening - after leaving the evening meal the moment it was socially acceptable to do so but long before it was truly over - he feels hardly more alive than a fierce corpse. The stress of the preceding week and the lack of rest drag heavily at every possible part of him as he walks slowly. He hopes he simply looks sedate, composed, and/or relaxed rather than the truth, which is that he fears if he moves too quickly he’ll just pass out right there in the walkway. He rounds the corner at long last to come to the front of his own pavilion and squints a bit at the figure waiting by his door, forcing his blurry eyes to focus.

“Er-ge,” he greets, abruptly remembering that he had told Lan Xichen he could return. He’d forgotten amongst trying to accomplish everything else on his list while also trying to keep his exhaustion from negatively affecting his performance. “Would you like to come in for tea?”

“A-Yao,” Lan Xichen replies and he sounds disapproving - why does he sound disapproving? Jin Guangyao frantically rifles through his mental to-do lists for the day, trying to remember if there was something he was supposed to do for the other but hadn’t done, or if any of the things he had done could be blamed for the censure in his voice.

“Yes?”

“You haven’t slept.”

Ah.

“That is correct,” he sighs, because lying to Lan Xichen is something he will only do under absolute dire duress, he’s made that promise to himself many a time already and he’s not about to let a bit of sleep deprivation make him break his word. “Would you like to come in for tea?”

“Would I - A-Yao,” Lan Xichen returns, now sounding thoroughly scandalized. “You haven’t slept in two days and yet you still wish to ask me inside for tea?”

“I do not wish to be a poor host,” he replies rather matter-of-factly, punctuating the assertion with a sudden buckling of his knees that would have turned him into a boneless heap on the ground if not for Lan Xichen’s arms around him.

----

Jin Guangyao wakes slowly to a thoroughly unfamiliar sensation. He wants to wake up faster, to figure out just what the hell is going on, but his mind is uncomfortably sluggish, dipping in and out of uncomfortable dreams and a half-wakefulness that is somehow more disorienting than the eerie kaleidoscope of his dreams. He refuses to let the confusion of his own mind drag him back under, though, because the confusion of what’s happening physically is much more pressing.

There’s a gentle touch on his temple for a brief moment before it’s gone again, and then it returns in precisely the same spot. The touch is slow, rhythmic, and too firm to be the brush of an errant lock of hair against his skin, or a breath. It must be another person, though, because he’s not moving, and whatever is touching him must be being manipulated by someone or something else to move so fluidly. He’s at a loss to figure out what it is and he quickly grows frustrated with trying when his eyes won’t cooperate and just open so he can see what’s happening.

“Shh, you’re alright,” a voice murmurs at his side and that, at least, he recognizes. Lan Xichen.

They don’t often speak of those weeks they’d been on the run from the Wen, but Jin Guangyao will never in this life forget the way it made him feel to wake from nightmares only to hear Lan Xichen soothing him like this. He turns his head a bit towards that familiar voice and he just knows that Lan Xichen is smiling, can tell simply by the rustle of his robes, by the way the bed dips ever so slightly under the readjusted weight of his arm on the mattress. The touch on his temple leaves only for a fingertip to brush against his eyelids next, gentle sweeps across the thin skin of first one and then the other, and ah, there they are. Now that he knows where his eyes are and what they feel like to be touched he can force them open. It takes a monumental effort, but at least they’re open.

Once he’s pretty sure his eyes are going to stay open it takes another long moment for them to focus, but when they do he finds Lan Xichen sitting on the ground next to his bed facing him, his nearer arm resting on top of the covers at his side so he can resume gently stroking his temple with the back of his index finger. Mystery solved.

“A-Yao,” Lan Xichen sighs softly, soft reproach and tenderness suffusing his voice in equal measure. “What am I to do with you, hm?”

“Does Lan-gege not wish to hold his A-Yao?” he teases, his voice crackling and raspy with exhaustion in his throat. It might ruin the flirtatious effect a bit but he refuses to acknowledge it.

“I do, as frequently as A-Yao will allow. But these circumstances are a bit less than ideal, don’t you think?”

“If one does not wish to play the hero and catch fainting lovers every once in a while one should specify such preferences before it becomes necessary.”

That, at least, earns him a chuckle even as Lan Xichen tips his head back to close his eyes for a moment and sigh.

“Perhaps I am biased but I, personally, do not think a birthday banquet for your brother is worth working yourself to collapse,” Lan Xichen murmurs once he’s looking at him again, finger still moving hypnotically against his temple. “It was splendid, everything was accomplished to perfection, but I do not think it was worth your health like this.”

Jin Guangyao sighs at that and forces himself to stop staring at Lan Xichen to instead look up unseeingly towards the ceiling overhead. Lan Xichen leans in to press a kiss to his temple in place of the stroking of his finger before he straightens again. He’s waiting - Jin Guangyao can feel the expectation in his silence. He even knows what he’s waiting for, he just doesn’t know if he’s prepared to give it to him.

“I needed to meet my father’s expectations,” he finally supplies. A truth, but not the one he knows will properly answer Lan Xichen’s unasked question.

“His demands come with too high a price, then.” A long, weighty pause and then, because it’s Lan Xichen, he somehow knows precisely what to ask to get to the heart of the matter. “Will such expenses be spared for yours?”

“For my what?” Jin Guangyao replies numbly, playing dumb to earn himself a few more seconds.

“A-Yao.”

“A-Yao is tired, Lan-gege must ask his questions some other time,” he replies stubbornly. “There is entirely too much talking and not enough kissing happening at the moment for my liking.”

“A-Yao must tell Lan-gege what this one can do to spoil him just as richly when the appropriate day arrives,” Lan Xichen hums into a kiss to his cheek. Jin Guangyao turns his head from it but Lan Xichen only dips down to press his lips to the jump of his pulse just under his ear, undeterred in his gentle affections by the sudden souring of Jin Guangyao’s mood.

“Nothing,” he replies, too short, but Lan Xichen is, as ever, entirely too patient for his own good.

“Nothing, hm? Is it because we don’t have enough time to prepare? I’m sure I can find something lavish to treat you to even on short notice. When is it, A-Yao? In a month? Two?”

“Yesterday.”

Lan Xichen’s lips freeze on his neck and Jin Guangyao takes the opportunity to turn onto his opposite side, putting his back to Lan Xichen and his kindness that makes him ache in ways both good and bad.

“So I suppose you have plenty of time to prepare. Nearly a full year, you’re only short a day,” he adds without turning when Lan Xichen says nothing else.

“You...planned and executed a massive celebration for your brother on the birthday that you..share?”

“Per my father’s instructions, yes. I’m tired, er-ge, must we discuss this now?”

Lan Xichen, to his credit, says nothing. There’s really nothing to say, is the thing, and despite all the small talk the two of them often indulge in, Lan Xichen is not actually given to say unnecessary things. Anything casual they discuss is because they both delight in conversation and that gives the pleasantries their meaning. But here, now, with nothing to say that could help the situation and only things that could drive the thorn further into his pride, Lan Xichen is quiet even as he stands and slips onto the bed behind him.

This is familiar, at least. The sting of rejection that he hasn’t yet turned into fuel for his ambitions is burning in his chest but Lan Xichen is already laying himself behind him, holding him to his chest and stroking his hair as he nuzzles in close. Ever since he had first allowed Lan Xichen close to him like this that morning on the run this has apparently been Lan Xichen’s favorite way to hold him. He tangles their legs together and curls the arm pinned beneath them around Jin Guangyao’s chest, hand splayed over where his heart beats steadily in his chest as he uses the other hand to brush his hair back from his face with gentle passes of his palm. He pauses in his caressing only to lean forward and kiss his temple, his cheek, the curve of his ear, the back of his neck, resuming the slow passes of his hand as soon as he’s done for the moment.

“You should go back to sleep, A-Yao,” Lan Xichen whispers after the worst of the tension has bled out of Jin Guangyao’s muscles to be replaced with trembling exhaustion. “I will be here, I have already told the healer that I will tend to you until you wake feeling that you have recovered, whenever that will be. Rest.”

“I have things to do tomorrow,” Jin Guangyao sighs without an ounce of fight in him.

“If grown men cannot tend to themselves for a single day in a place as thoroughly staffed with servants as Jinlintai then they should not be trusted to run their Sects,” Lan Xichen replies implacably, his tone almost mild enough to hide the glint of steel beneath the surface. Almost. “I daresay they can request their own meals and entertainments for a day while you sleep.”

“My father-”

“Is in another drunken stupor,” Lan Xichen interrupts, a shocking amount of disdain (for him) laced through his voice now; he’s not even trying to hide it. Jin Guangyao sort of loves him for it. “When he is sober enough to hear it the healer will explain your condition should he attempt to send for you. Rest.”

Jin Guangyao knows he should protest, he should tell him that Jin Guangshan will only accuse him of being weak if he doesn’t fulfil his duties, no matter how tired he is. But Lan Xichen is like a furnace against his back, warm and soothing, the rhythm of his breathing and his heartbeat slow and easy and already lulling him to sleep. The hand in his hair is unnecessary but so comforting that Jin Guangyao nearly cries with it. He chooses to close his burning eyes instead, and he drops off to sleep almost immediately.

#The untamed fanfic #Xiyao #Lan Xichen #Jin Guangyao #Meng Yao #I'm bouncing back and forth between writing a few extra scenes for the fixit AU but this scene wouldn't leave my head #so i'm flinging it out into the world in the hopes that i'll help me write something else haha

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thejakeformerlyknownasprince · 4 years

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Any way we could get like a master list of like Tobias + Rachel moments like “first time they talk about their feelings” and “first kiss” etc? And what book it’s in? If that’s not too much. I love you!!

All right, this is going to be less a master list, more a “things I can think of off the top of my head,” but here it is.

The Non-Definitive List of Rachel/Tobias Milestones:

First crush: #1. It’s hard to say how much is going on in the background of their first mission, because Jake is a clueless duffer who needs Cassie to explain romance to him and because Jake takes forever to wrap his head around the fact that Rachel is capable of having crushes on boys. But we know that Rachel is looking at Tobias when she agrees to let the boys walk her and Cassie home, and we know that Rachel immediately jumps to Tobias’s defense when he and Marco start arguing. Rachel is the most worried about Tobias when the others lose sight of him during that first battle, and the fastest to consider Tobias a part of the group.

Unresolved romantic tension: #3. Tobias knows he has a thing for Rachel as of this book. He knows, and he’s not ever planning on doing a dang thing about it, because he’s a bird and she’s a human. They smash up car commercials together, they hunt for yeerk ships together, and they fly all over town together, but he’s pretty sure they’re going nowhere relationship-wise. And then Rachel, in the middle of half-drowning in the truck ship’s water tank, starts to say what she needs to say before she dies. She stays in morph longer than any of the others specifically so that she and Tobias can have this last moment alone. And Tobias’s response to her near-confession is to grab a dracon beam and go take on an entire yeerk fleet alone.

Acknowledging their feelings: #7. When the Ellimist comes with his offer, Jake and Marco focus on saving their families, Ax and Cassie go full environmentalist... and Rachel and Tobias are pissed. Tobias figures out instantly that he’s only there as a human because the Ellimist wants to manipulate Rachel’s emotions through dangling the possibility of de-nothliting her honey-pie in front of her face. Rachel’s pissed on Tobias’s behalf, Tobias on Rachel’s behalf, and the Ellimist is just deeply amused.

Resolving romantic tension: #12. When Rachel doesn’t know what to do about the crocodile thing, she goes to Tobias. When Tobias sees Rachel and Jake headed for another fight, he undercuts it so that Rachel wins. They banter about Superman and Xena having kids together. They jerk Marco around together. They’re a couple already, even if they’ve never even held hands.

First couples’ fight: MM2. They’re both tired and hungry and injured, to give credit where it’s due, and they’re entitled to get snippy with each other. It’s also worth noting that they resolve their spat in a pretty healthy way — Tobias acknowledges that he underestimated how hard it would be to control the deinonychus morph, Rachel acknowledges that she underestimated how dangerous the deinonychuses would be, they both acknowledge that they’re not at their best and need to drop the subject until they’re in a better mood. It’s also when Rachel recognizes that Tobias isn’t, fundamentally, a mere human: she doesn’t reach him through the dino instincts until she pivots from descriptions of fingers and toes and instead reminds him of flying.

Healthiest moment: #23. Yes, a matter of opinion, but I love how supportive Rachel is toward Tobias throughout this whole book. She’s quick to reassure him that she doesn’t think it’s weird to eat roadkill, and equally quick to drop the subject when he wants to. Whatever Tobias needs, from a sympathetic ear to a killer grizzly, she’s happy to help him through this difficult time.

Labeling the relationship: #27. Bless T.T. and his stupid little 1990s So Cal name. It takes T.T.’s dimples and his smooth-talking and his sheer ordinariness for Rachel to realize that she doesn’t want dimples or smooth-talking or ordinariness. She wants the kind of guy who is terrified of water but will become a sperm whale to keep her safe. She wants a “mouse-eating freak,” because she’s a squid-eating freak herself. She wants someone around whom she can be ugly, can be vulnerable, can be scared, can be herself. Also, I love that moment with Tobias commenting that T.T. is “pretty cute, and perceptive too” after T.T. says something unrepeatable about Rachel’s violent tendencies and sense of propriety.

First kiss: MM3. It’s the moment just after Rachel was “killed” by a cannonball aboard the Trafalager and then pops back up in the middle of Princeton University’s campus. Tobias runs and grabs her, she smooches him, Marco asks if he can have a kiss as well, the racist dude that Cassie was in the middle of intimidating cries on the floor. It’s all very romantic.

The L Word: #32. The whole book is about Rachel learning to reconcile the different sides of herself, but a big part of it is her realizing that Tobias has gone through many of the same struggles. Tobias knows she’s a killer, and he’s a killer too. Tobias knows she’s a frightened softie at heart, and he is one too. Tobias’s entire life has been about him trying to stick together disparate pieces of himself, which is why Tobias is the only thing Mean Rachel and Nice Rachel can agree upon, and it’s why Tobias is the only one whom Rachel wants to see after it’s all over.

Best “battle couple” moment: #36. A matter of opinion, of course, but I love the moment that the yeerk submarine starts to come apart and Rachel bodily wraps herself around Tobias to protect him. Honestly the whole motif of them pairing up their battle morphs — hawk-Tobias compensating for bear-Rachel’s major weakness through acting as her eyes and ears, bear-Rachel compensating for hawk-Tobias’s relative delicacy through being the tank of the team — does my heart good. But I have an extra-large soft spot for this moment because when the shit hits the fan, Rachel’s immediate reaction is to throw her entire body between Tobias and danger.

Picking out furniture: #49. Yes, Rachel is joking when she tells Tobias that they need to get patio furniture for his meadow, but it’s also an affirmation that they both view this as a long-term thing they’ve got going. She wants them to have a place together, even if it is a random clearing in the woods with a deeply suspicious number of lounge chairs.

First date: ??? Arguably, Rachel and Tobias never go on a single actual date-date, and I think that’s a lot of the beauty of their utterly unique relationship. Ones that could count:

Destroying a car commercial in #3. Although there are hints in #2 that Rachel goes flying alone with Tobias sometimes, this is the first time we actually see them doing something for fun together.

Running around as hork-bajir in #13. It’s the first time they go on a mission as a couple, the first time they really consider the possibility that they could have a relationship now that Tobias can morph, and the first instance of them using “paired” morphs together.

Tobias’s birthday in #23. If “date” means sharing a meal together, then by gum Rachel baking an entire cake for Tobias and then having the world’s strangest conversation about his family history while they sit on the floor of her room and eat with their hands has got to count.

The school dance in #29. This is the first time (that we know of) where they go to a public human gathering as a formal couple.

The opening sequence of #33. This moment canonically makes “Iris” by the Goo Goo Dolls their song, and it involves the first real conversation about their future as a couple.

The ending sequence of #33. EVERYTHING HURTS AND NOTHING IS OKAY at the end of this book, but it also involves them doing human-stuff like hugging and hanging out on the beach followed by them doing raptor-stuff like flying around together, because everyone but especially Rachel is trying to do whatever Tobias needs right then. It’s also the most emotionally raw moment between them, but one they get through together.

Watching Felicity together in #35. I love this moment, not in the least because Rachel and Tobias are both like “how dare you interrupt our soap opera with yeerks, Marco?” and it hints at what they’ve been up to in the background of the books they don’t narrate. It’s also canon that Rachel doesn’t have a TV in her room, so that suggests that human-Tobias and human-Rachel were sacked out on her couch together, possibly while Naomi glared disapprovingly from the door to the kitchen.

Having burgers in #49. Rachel bringing Tobias McDonald’s is actually the first time they label one of their own meetups as being a date, for what it’s worth.

Most painful moment: #54, duh. For me it’s a three-way tie between Tobias guiding Rachel through her last battle after she’s blinded by snake venom, Rachel and Tobias both taking on human morph so that they can say goodbye to each other THROUGH A VIEWSCREEN, and Tobias stealing the urn with Rachel’s ashes because he wants her to have a memorial her way. Ugggghh why do these children wound me so.

#animorphs #animorphs meta #animorphs spoilers #rachel berenson #tobias fangor #emohawk #romance #hawkward #xena: warrior princess #anonymous #asks

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everyhowlmarksthedead · 4 years

Text

LOSE TO WIN.

Che “Taza” Romero x reader

Anon asked: Hey! Could you do a Taza x Reader, where he is kind of quiet around the reader after what happened to Riz and the reader somehow understand what he have done and she confronts him, but she says that she still loves him anyway?

Word Count: 2.4k

Thanks to my lovely beta reader @chibsytelford 💘

Author Comments: As I explained, this is kinda painful to me. I've never been so in love with a TV show, nor with a character as I am with Riz. This imagine is somewhat random, writed in first person as I think I would have lived it, more or less. So, take it as it's a piece of me and enjoy. Gif credit: @angels-reyes.

Tag list: @starrynite7114 @chibsytelford @dazzledamazon @mara-mpou @sammskellington @gemini0410 @1-800-imagines @briana-mishell24 @sassymox @whyisgmora @aquamento @sadeyesgf @viviansafizada @samcro-jnt @jade770 @losolvidad0s @arved ✨ (if you wanna be tagged, send me a message!)

I’ve held his hand, since the doctors said that we could see him. I was constantly sitting by the left side of the bed, with my fingers tangled with his. And every time it came somewhat cold, I grabbed it with mine to raised it so I could give it some warmth with my breath. The surgery was good, better than expected, but I was unable to leave him for a single second. I didn’t even notice who more was in the room with me, I was so focused and so obsessed controlling his breathing, that the time was something relative. And I’ll blame myself all my life for leaving him alone the moment he stopped fighting. Yes, Taza was with him, but I wasn’t. He stopped fighting when I was no longer there. It was just a minute. A hallway. I was falling asleep and I needed a coffee. When I came back, his soul was already gone and so did a piece of my heart. Che held me before I could even fall, after the doctors said his lungs had failed. Taza has always been my anchor, since I met him when I was almost twelve years old, but he couldn't even keep me from sinking.

━━━━━━ ﹅ ━━━━━━

I was sitting outside of the clubhouse in a picnic table. There was no noise more than some crickets grilling. I was wearing his kutte without believing that he wasn’t gonna appear with his bike, complaining about whatever shit he saw on the road, before hugging me as he used to do. Raising my eyes to the sky and having a sip of my beer, I couldn't help but thinking about the first time I saw him. It was nine years ago at Stockton, when my uncle decided to open a new Mayans’ subsidiary. The southern Cali at Santo Padre. Marcus made somewhat like a party to celebrate with the Sons of Anarchy and my father brought me there. I was sitting alone, just like I’m right now. I was almost twenty years old and I didn’t know half the shit I know now. Yes, I wasn’t stupid. The motorbikes, the guns, the travels. I didn’t need to be a genius to know what my family used to do. A mexican with short and black hair sat next to me, offering me a tequila shot to greet with him.

“Por la familia”. (For the family). He said before drinking his, so I did. “I’m Michael, but everyone calls me ‘Riz’”.

“Well, everyone calls me ‘shit, kid, you did it again?’

He laughed with some kind of naturality and purity that I’ve never heard it before. It was a warm and nearby laugh, as my father’s. I don’t even know how I can explain it. It something that you really need to hear to feel it as I did. He was my first friend, because he wanted, and not because he was scared of who my family was. Through the years he became my family too. We spent a lot of time together, doing everything or doing nothing. Not even our silences were uncomfortable, we enjoyed each other's company, without more. It’s been just one day and I kept looking my phone, waiting for a call or a text that woke me up of this nightmare. But the only thing that pushed me back to reality it was the crew’s motorbikes roaring full of rage. I practically jumped off of the table, throwing away the beer before my father could lead the march. The main door was closed and they were waiting for me to open it, standing there with my arms crossed on the chest.

“I’m going”. I was determined like never in my life and no one would change my mind.

“Open the door and stay here”. My father just said.

“I’m going”. In case he didn’t hear me, I repeated it.

“It’s a risk I’m not gonna take. Don’t argue with m—”.

“He lost a battle ‘cause ‘Los Vatos. And I’m gonna defend his honor at war!” I interrupted him, yelling at my father as I never did it before. I had too much contained inside me, squeezing my heart till make me cry blood tears. “You can’t… put me aside, dad. Not tonight”.

My father shook his head sighing and rubbing his face, after some seconds seeming thoughtful, before finally nodding. I looked at the rest of the faces, they agreed too. Riz was my family, and he will always be even if his body isn’t present. So I ran to his motorbike, taking off the keys from the chest’ pocket. I had ridden it before but that time, when I turned on the engine, was pretty different.

━━━━━━ ﹅ ━━━━━━

It’s been a month since the funeral and sometimes looks like nothing had changed. Nothing but the way Taza used to treat me. He became somewhat cold, he turned away from me. Maybe I was so focused in my pain, that I didn't see his. I tried hard to talk with him, wanting to know how he felt, but he never did it back. No answer at any question I made. And I was falling into a black hole, into a loop. I wasn't capable of getting up from bed some mornings and I needed him as never before. I really needed him. Taza was always by my side, at the bad and at the good. But now, he was like a ghost. Running away from me. It was like if another piece of my heart was breaking. Till I had the enough strength to stop it, when my father told me that Che was leaving the Mayans. I lost Riz. So losing him too wasn't an option.

I drove the road to the ranch by heart, in the cold darkness of the night. I was decided to bring him back by my side and I didn't care what it might cost me. I was, and I am, surrounded by people that loved me without any doubt but no one like him. He taught me many of the things I know today. He covered me every time I fucked up things. He picked me up every night I called him drunk, being afraid of going home so my father could see me in that kind of condition. He cleaned my tears and cheered my smiles. I took care of his wounds, of his doubts, of his fears. I took care of his house and his car. I took care of him whenever he was sick or lost. We were made for each other. Again, losing him it wasn't an option.

Turning off my motorbike and taking off the helmet to leave it over the leather seat, I walked straight to the front red door. The light outside, in the porch, was on so he was at home. I had a copy of the keys, but I didn't want to burden him. After knocking the door with the knuckles, I waited there for some long minutes. It was cold outside and I started to freeze, when I called again using the door-bell. I could hear his steps coming, stopping for some seconds on the other side.

“Please, don' leave me”. I begged, knowing that he didn't want to let me in for some reason I couldn't understand, containing the tears that were claiming to fall down. “I'm sorry. I'm sorry for closing myself, for not talking to you at the beginning. I know I don' have any excuse, that I can't simply say ‘I did it with everyone’, 'cause you know you're not in that bag. You've been always the exception that proves the rule. And I love you, Che... You know that I do”.

It was the first time I said that. To him. I didn't say that to anyone that it wasn't my father, nor my uncle. But I really felt that shit. The same one that was taking away what little life I had left. When the door got opened, my heart jumped raising my eyes to the reddened ones. He look as bad as I was. I couldn't help but hugging him, surrounding him with my arms, while he was pushing me inside the house so he could close the door. I've never been a lot of affective, always respecting my own personal space. But with him was different. His arms around me were like a indestructible fortress, protecting me from the world and its evil. He was the air I needed to breathe whenever I felt I was drowning myself. And sometimes, this fact was a problem.

“This is my fault”. He whispered with his voice breaking somewhat more as he uttered each word.

“No, it wasn't, Che. It wasn't. They did wrong every thing they considered it was well done”. I tried to comfort him. I didn't know why he was blaming himself. Riz stopped his shots. Is what I have would done. And that wasn't his fault either.

“You don' understand… Riz is dead because of me”.

“No, it's not!” I was nervous, out of me, pulling him away so I could be able to support his cheeks between my hands. Seeing him cry like a heartbroken child was more painful that I could imagine, oppressing my chest as I was thinking that I never asked how he was.

“His lungs… His lungs didn't failed because of the shots, but because of me”.

My hands fell down, as my eyes got opened more than normally. Twisting my head like a dog does when he's confused, I walked a few steps back. Taza rested his body against the closest wall, crawling down till finding the floor with his knees curled to his chest. He was crying desperately, unable to look at me. Then I started to think about that night. No. It wasn't a coincidence that Riz and him were alone when he left us. I couldn't believe it. I couldn't believe that that poisoned words were true. Everything was crumbling around me, breaking with the same facility as a wet paper does between my fingers. The tears was running through my cheeks with my gaze on nowhere.

“Los Vatos… That trash should disappear, after all the damage he made to… innocent people that only wanted to have a better life”. He sob cleaning his eyes with a forearm. “I knew that your father wouldn't do anythin', and I knew that Riz was suffering… The surgery went well, but… doctors said that maybe he never could get out of the coma… He was my friend too. My br—brother. What could I do?”

Even if I wanted to punch him till death, I couldn't help but see the sense of his words. I was feeling his pain, his grief, his misery. I was so stubborn trying to save Riz, that I forgot him. He was carrying it over his shoulders all this time. And, no. He hadn't any excuse. He killed Michael. He never gave the benefit of the doubt. And it was dolorous when I found myself being unable to hate him.

“How you feel is my fault... Because of me. Because I didn't think in Riz, neither in you. I couldn' look you in… the face. So I thought it could be easy pull you away. Leave Santo Padre and come back to Arizona. But I can't… Shit… I can't”. He turned towards me, with his head supported against the wall. “Tell me you love me again… please”.

The anxiety was consuming me like a thick liquid clotting my blood, flooding my throat, my lungs, my stomach. It was like I was dying slowly, because I still loved him. Knowing that he killed my best friend, I still loved him. Unconditionally. I walked next to him, even if my brain was not sending any command to my legs, nor my body in general. I knelt down. In front of him. And I kissed him. Feeling like Judas, betraying Riz, I kissed him. Taza wasn't expecting it, neither did I. It was confusing. Every inch of my skin bristling as his tears met mine on our dry lips. When he gave me some space between his legs, surrounding me with his arms, it was like I forgot how to kiss, how to breath, how to live. Again without being conscious, my hands went to his nape. I just wanted to feel him close to me, almost lying on him, falling apart because of his fault.

“Tell me you love me again”. He begged me hopeless with his hands on my neck, keeping my gaze with the same darkness in them.

Life isn't fair. When you're part of something like Mayans, yes, everything at the end is about family, but sometimes there are collateral damage that you, nor anyone can't avoid. And that was Riz became. Sometimes you have to lose to win. A part of myself, to end human trafficking. And even if I wanted to hate him with all my efforts, I couldn't. And that made me hate myself so much. But I was seeing why he did it. It was a payback that, sooner or later, had to happen.

“I do”. I just said. “I love you, Che”.

His cry got louder with his forehead on mine when he heard me. I knew that he was suffering more than anyone around us and I had to save him, of one way or another, so that Riz wouldn't have died in vain.

“But you can't go”. I sat down between his legs, holding him as he was doing with his face sinked in my neck and one of my hands on his head. My fingers got tangled in his hair, pushing him somewhat closer. The agony was oppressing us, knowing that we should live with that secret anchored in our hearts. But, what else we could do? Keep fighting for a cause. “Stay with me. We have so much road to ride. Don' let Michael die for anything”.

“I'm so sorry”. He said with all the sincerity I could felt in him.

“I know. But we're together, you hear me?”

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