#i hope you find communities better suited for your desires | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

auteurdelabre · 5 months

Text

Bravo! Take a Bow pt 2 (SERIES) Dieter

Summary: As you're brought back for a Chemistry Read with Dieter Bravo things don't turn out exactly as anticipated. rating: 18+ (for future smut chapters) words: 6.9k Warnings: Cigarettes part 1

Parking in Burbank is expensive. The kind of expensive that has you wishing you'd taken the bus despite the commute from your apartment. When you finally find the hotel your heart lurches in your chest. You're actually here, it's actually happening. You slip your credit card into the machine, wincing as you see the total.

Oh well. If you land this role maybe you can afford to get valet the next time you go out to eat. You smile at that though, placing the ticket on your dashboard and gripping the pages from your seat in your hand.

It’s fun playing in this fantasy. Living in your mind a world where you land this role, where it catapults you into superstardom. You can imagine the interviews, the red carpet, the fame and fortune.

All you have to do is get this part.

“Your zipper is down.”

You glance at your phone to see you’re still too early. A whole half an hour.

You told you brother and a few girls at the restaurant about this chemistry read and their supportive messages come through to your phone.

You got this gurl I better see you on the big screen 🔥🔥🔥 - Daisy, fellow server and hopeful crooner.

Fucking slay this audition or I'm never covering another shift for you!!!! -Tiffany, your favorite fellow server who spends hours in her crowded apartment making dancing tiktoks.

I believe in you honey. I can't wait for you to tell me all about it tomorrow. - Charlotte, who probably needed one of the kitchen staff to help her send a text. Bless her.

You got this! Crossing our fingers and toes over here! - that's from your brother.

I know u got this & I'll make pasta for dinner to celebrate! 💋💋💋 - Carlee's message is typically her, sweet and supportive. She was of course the first person you told when you got the call.

You spot a smoothie bar across the street and jog over, waving at the cars that let you pass. You feel so excited, so nervous, so… electric as you walk over. You’re convinced everyone must see it in your face, they must feel it in the energy you’re giving off because everyone you pass is smiling at you. Everyone that you pass seems kind and joy –

You glance at the old woman to your left pointing at your jeans. With red cheeks you glance down to see she’s correct. Your pink polka dot panties peek out and you quickly zip your jeans up, turning from the smoothie bar to walk in the opposite direction.

Fuck.

///

Turns out the gas station near the hotel has coffee and that suits you just fine. You take a seat outside on the curb, sipping and you look at the pages you were sent this week. These are the ones you and Carlee spent hours going over and over and over again until you were both exhausted and giggly.

There are a litany of notes in the margins, reminders of character motivations and prompts, observations you made about the scene. You want this part of Cecilia so badly and you are prepared to do all you can to land it.

They must have seen it in your audition – the desire, the character flowing through you. You must have communicated that with your craft and that feels so uplifting, so gratifying. To be recognized for your talent in something you hold so near and dear to your heart. You take a break from the pages you've prepared, not wanting to overdo it and you bask in the warmth of the day.

You think that this moment is when things are going to change for you and you want to document the moment. You pull up Instagram on your phone and hold the coffee cup in front of your face, smiling brightly before snapping the selfie. When you’re satisfied with it after a few filtered adjustments you caption it: “Acting fuel #actorlife #lalaland”

If anyone searches your Instagram they would think your life is nothing but sunshine, auditions and fun nights out. They don't see the long hours at the restaurant, of coming home smelling of garlic. They don't see the frustrated tears when you don't land a role. They don't see the shame when your family asks you to come visit and you can't afford the flight.

Instead you scroll back to one of your earliest posts from when you first got here to L.A. It's a selfie of you in the Sudsy bubble costume, smile bright as you stand on the fake kitchen set.

It's funny because you're always tempted to take it down, to forget that embarrassment. But there's something in your face in that photo that stops you every time. You'd been just so excited to land a role, to actually get paid for something you're passionate about. It comes through in every inch of the photo.

This buoys you; it makes you forget the zipper as you walk into the hotel. You’re hair was done by Carlee and hangs in sleek waves over your shoulders, your makeup is subtle, your jeans and t-shirt are perfect for the character – she’s a simple, small-town woman. You want the casting directors to believe you are Cecelia Jackson in the flesh.

This is it. This is the moment everything changes for you. You can feel it in your bones. And this thrills you despite the fact that your potential future costar is Dieter Bravo. You frown a bit at the thought of running into him again.

You go to the front desk to check in and are greeted warmly by a man in an expensive looking suit. He asks you to follow him and you both take the elevator to one of the upper level meeting rooms. The place is huge, normally held for things like business meetings but right now is set up with a couch, some chairs under the window. The rest of the place is haphazard, things being moved, tape being put in colorful X’s on the floor to mark where you should stand. A large camera is there, being operated by an older man with a backwards cap.

You wait to be announced, to be guided, but the man from the hotel simply points you in the direction and then is gone, leaving you standing on the fringe of the scene feeling awkward. Your mouth goes dry and you wish you hadn’t bothered with the coffee.

You move further into the large room, trying not to be intimidated by the cameras and the bustling crowd of busy-looking people while others stand looking bored at their phones. That's the thing about the film world, the hurry up and wait of it all.

You see several chairs set up at the side of the room, one of which has an ornate striped purple jacket draped over it. You’d bet your next paycheck that it belongs to Dieter. No one else would wear it, that’s for sure.

"Hey Sudsy."

You wince, trying not to show your displeasure and you feel your cheeks get hot as you turn to look behind you to see Dieter grinning at you, wearing oversized sunglasses. Does he know he’s inside? His hair is especially wild around his face and today he wears a simple silver hoop in his left ear. But that's all that's simple about him. He's wearing striped pants under a green sweater that almost reaches his knees and on his feet? Black Crocs. Did he get dressed in the dark?

"Hi."

"You ready for this read?" He lowers his sunglasses to the end of his nose. "Come prepared?"

"Yep."

You keep your answers brief and monosyllabic. You also try not to look at his face. You know those big, doe-eyes of his will hold either amusement or pity, neither of which you want. You wonder how to thank him for the money he left as your tip. Is it gauche to mention it? Is it pathetic? He glances down at your pages, his eyes growing owlish in his face.

“Is that your writing in the margins?”

“Yeah,” you say, folding the pages up, feeling shy under the scrutiny. “Just some notes.”

Dieter gets a strange look on his face and he nods, looking at his own blank spaces on the script. You note it looks like it was just freshly printed off and you wonder if he’s even bothered looking at his part. You spent days memorizing every line, every breath and you think it would be just your luck to work opposite a man who hasn’t even bothered glancing at it until now.

"You didn't wear the bow," Dieter observes, breaking into your anxious thoughts.

You raise your eyes to his at that and see the amusement so clearly showcased there. You feel a flush of humiliation go through you. You see how it is now. He's just going to play with you, like a bored child needing entertainment.

"Nope. Didn't want to risk it in case you brought more judgmental models with you."

Dieter looks surprised by your response but then his eyes fly to something behind you. You glance over to see the craft services table being set up, an array of water bottles and snacks being laid out.

"Oh fuck yeah," Dieter says before heading over to the table. You watch as he immediately plucks several cubes of cheese from the tray, saying something to the man setting the spread up and making him laugh. You watch Dieter swipe a cookie, chewing obnoxiously as you cringe watching him.

You hear your name being called and a woman named Jan approaches introducing herself as the head casting director.

“So glad you could join us today. We’re just getting the lighting set up and then you and Dee will be good to go, yeah?”

“Uh, sure, should we do a run-through?”

“Nah, this is more casual,” Jan assures you. “We just wanna see how you work off one another. See how it feels. You off-script?”

“Mhmm.”

“Great. I’ll call you both in a sec.”

You smile, but it’s tight. You glance over at your hopeful future co-star and hold in a groan. He’s shoving more cheese into his mouth, laughing at something on his phone.

This is supposed to be Levi Jackson? The man that Cecelia loved for all those years? The man she felt confident to place all her hopes and dreams in? You decide Dieter can play the disappointing older version of Levi, that’s for sure. The washed up architect that hasn’t touched her in months. The man she’s grown to hate.

Dieter saunters over to you, his eyes scanning the page as he murmurs to himself. He stops right next to you, glancing at your page. His sunglasses are hanging over his collar, the arm of one snug against his sternum.

“Can I see your notes?”

You have no reason not to show him. It’s not like you’re competing for the same role. You nod, handing him your script. He’s reading something written in the margins, his eyes squinting. You wonder if he needs glasses but doesn’t wear them for vanity’s sake.

“You really think she hates him?”

You glance over to see the part Dieter is referencing, his long finger pointed to one of your hastily printed notes. The ones that say ‘unfiltered hatred’.

“I dunno, seems she’d be a bit more chill about it,” Dieter shrugs. “Yeah she’s pissed, but, she loves this guy, right?”

“Yeah that’s why she’s so upset,” you explain diplomatically. “She loved him for so long and he’s become such a huge disappointment.”

“But if she loves him so much then why is she so mean to him?” Dieter reasons, almost childlike. “How can you hate and love someone at the same time? They’re polar opposites.”

“You can love someone and hate them all at once, trust me,” you scoff, taking your pages back. “Haven’t you ever been in love?”

Dieter blinks, the amusement fleeing his face for a fraction of a moment before its being replaced by bravado.

“I’m rarely lonely,” he smiles.

You hold in an eye roll and go to tell him that it’s not the same, that love isn’t the same as lust. But you’re both being called over to Jan, ordered kindly to sit on the sofa together. You do so, both on either side of the sofa as Jan demanded.

Dieter still has cookie crumbs on his shirt that he wipes absently at, glancing once more at the script, mumbling to himself and tossing the pages back onto his chair. You watch him begin to do mouth exercises, stretching his tongue out back and again saying turns of phrases to loosen up his muscles.

“Okay, so this scene is Cecelia and Levi just coming back from a really bad dinner with friends,” Jan says setting the scene for you. “Cecelia is embarrassed because Levi just lost another contract. Things are tense. Go when you’re ready.”

You take a deep breath, eyes shuttering for a moment as you slip into the skin of this character, as you take on her burdens and let go of your own.

It's easy to find the anger for the man sitting across from you. It's resting there, dormant since Dieter came into your restaurant. Despite the generous tip me left, you could easily recall the way he laughed behind his hand, the way he made you run back and forth like a lapdog.

You think of how he didn't greet you like an equal today. He called you Sudsy, wanted to remind you that you are less. Mentioned the hair bow to throw you off your game. Challenged your notes when he was the one that wanted to see them.

And when you open your eyes you’re not you. You’re Cecelia Jackson, a woman pushed to her limits by a man she thought she knew. Dieter is staring at you, watching this process and you realize it’s because you have the first line.

“Tonight was humiliating,” you deliver loudly, your voice slicing through the air.

“It wasn’t that bad,” Dieter replies, his eyes soft.

“Not for you,” you scoff, eyes narrowed. “I’m going to bed.”

You move to get up, but Dieter reaches for you, just as it says in the script. His hand wraps around your wrist and he stops you from leaving. You give a sigh, sinking back into the sofa with hatred in your eyes.

"Cece. I just wanna talk."

Cecelia and Levi. Lovers of five years, their relationship frayed by the casual betrayals of one another. A toxic relationship at best.

“There’s nothing to talk about, Levi.”

Dieter moves closer to you on the sofa and you eye him warily. His dark eyes drop to your mouth and then move to your eyes.

“Baby.”

You think of Cecelia, a strong woman pushed to her breaking point. You think how she wouldn't want to talk to Levi, wouldn’t want to hear his pathetic ‘baby’ croon. She'd want to slap him.

"Get off of me," you say, eyes bright with anger. You jerk your hand from his harshly. Dieter looks shocked by this aggressive choice, mouth parting before he remembers himself.

"Why are you being like th-"

"Because I don't want you anywhere near me tonight," you hiss, body tensed. "I don't even want to be in the same house as you. I want you gone."

"I built this house brick by brick," Dieter sneers. "What makes you think you have any claim to i-"

"Because for the last five years I've had to put up with you!" You scowl. "I'm owed something for that."

Dieter takes a deep breath and you anticipate his next words. But then he's putting back, breaking character and looking over at Jan.

"She's stepping all over my lines," Dieter sulks, mouth downturned.

"You wanted her here Dee," Jan says before she moves over to talk to the man behind the camera. You feel your eyes blow wide as Dieter frowns; reaching behind him to grab his pages and look over the lines again.

No.

You realize now what this is. It's a favor. Something Dieter did because he feels sorry about how you were treated during the dinner. His way of absolving his guilt because the money wasn’t enough. Immediately you feel sick to your stomach.

"Fuck," you whisper, anger and humiliation overtaking you.

"Just let the lines breathe," Dieter says moving his hands airily and sounding like every other pretentious actor you've met. "You keep coming in ea-"

"Not the fucking lines," you hiss lowly, not wanting anyone to hear. You glance over to see Jan and the group still talking. Dieter is looking at you with knitted brows, his face a picture of confusion. He leans forward on the sofa, voice dropping low to match yours.

"Then what?"'

"I'm not here because they liked my audition. I'm here because they did you a favor."

"So?" Dieter shrugs. He doesn't even bother denying it which somehow makes it worse.

"What's the point? They won't actually consider me."

"Why? I saw your audition. You were really fucking good."

"They're only seeing me because the infamous and connected Dieter Bravo called the right people and pulled the right strings. This whole thing is a farce."

You cross your arms over your chest, heart picking up speed. You're trying so hard not to feel devastated in front of this man you don't even know.

"You seem too smart to be this naive," Dieter scoffs. "Half this industry is built on who knows who. So either use it to your advantage and kill the read or keep working part time at that restaurant. Choice is yours, Sudsy."

With that he moves back, the scent of peppermint and old coffee wafting over you in his wake. You know he said a lot, but all your narcissistic brain can focus on is: I saw your audition. You were really fucking good.

"Let's take that one again," Jan says as they set up the camera to its first position.

You nod, inhaling deeply as your eyes go to the sofa. Fuck this is so awkward and awful and-

“Can I make a suggestion?” Dieter asks voice soft again. You glance up, nodding. You have nothing to lose at this point.

“Remember why Cecelia loved Levi in the first place. Remember that feeling as you’re getting mad. Then let it explode. Don’t start from anger too fast. Get there and then let Levi have it.”

There’s wisdom in that suggestion, you think. Even if it’s coming from a man who’s most recent claim to fame was a movie about poorly CGI’d animals attacking a group of scientists. You lick your lips nervously before nodding.

Jan calls out from behind the camera. “And Dee when you’re giving the baby line let us believe it, yeah? Right now it’s playing a little flat.”

Dieter nods, taking the note with a bit of a curl in his lip. You hide your amusement. For a man that likes giving acting advice, he sure doesn’t like hearing it.

“Action!”

“Tonight was humiliating,” you say in a soft voice, your eyes sorrowful.

“It wasn’t that bad,” Dieter replies, leaning back on the sofa and watching you. He’s more relaxed his body boneless against the sofa. He’s Levi, king of his own castle, not seeing that his wife is quickly unraveling.

“Not for you,” you say, holding back tears. You take a minute to let the scene play out in your mind, going to an empty bed, joined later by a man who hasn’t shown he still desires you. “I’m going to sleep.”

Dieter reaches across the sofa as you begin to stand, his warm fingers wrapping around your wrist. He pulls gently, not wanting you to leave. You feel your affection for Levi flood your senses and against your better judgment you stay, slowly moving back against the cushion.

"Cece. I just wanna talk.”

“There’s nothing to talk about, Levi.”

Dieter looks at you with those large, emotional eyes of his and you feel yourself get sucked into them. You don’t even notice when he slides towards you on the sofa. But suddenly he’s close, so close. He brushes a strand of hair behind your ear, eyes moving to your mouth and back to your eyes.

“Baby.”

It’s raspy and needful and you don’t love that your heart hiccups when Dieter says it. You blink, not allowing yourself to get pulled out of the scene.

"Get off of me," you say tiredly. You’re exhausted after a long night and just want to go to sleep. You go to tug your hand from Dieter but he holds tight to it, his face contorted into a painful pleading look.

"Why are you being like this?"

"Because I don't want you anywhere near me tonight," say, still trying to tug your wrist back. He’s so close and he’s got such a grip that it makes you feel trapped. You hate it and the agitation shows on your face. "I don't even want to be in the same house as you. I want you gone."

"I built this house brick by brick," Dieter sneers, pulling you by the wrist towards him. "What makes you think you have any claim to it?"

"Because for the last five years I've had to put up with you!" You cry out. "I'm owed something for that."

“You think because I put a ring on your finger that gives you permission to take everything from me?” Dieter insists with his mouth curved into a hideous grimace. You note as he begins to move forward, trying to intimidate you. “You think I’ll let you walk out of my life with everything I’ve built?”

“That we’ve built you mean,” you say, the anger starting to curl around your words as you bring yourself to a kneeling position on the sofa finally wrenching your wrist from his now loosened grip.

“If it weren’t for me supporting you through school, Levi, we wouldn’t even have this house.”

“That’s bullshit,” Dieter says, arms tight across his chest.

“Ask anyone,” you insist, voice thick with emotion. “Hell, ask anyone from dinner tonight. They’ll tell you. They all know.”

“Dinner tonight just showed me how much you’ve changed,” Dieter says disgustedly. “I don’t even recognize you anymore.”

“You drank so much I’m shocked you remember any it.”

“I remember plenty,” Dieter says, face thunderous and now his tone has a biting edge to it, his eyes narrowed. He twists so that he’s fully facing you, one hand on the back of the sofa. “Surprised you didn’t blow the server when he brought the drinks. He’s just your type right?”

You lose yourself in the character; Cecelia’s anger is your anger. The man sitting across from you is not Dieter Bravo, he's Levi Jackson. The man that you love as much as hate. The man who is bringing up an ugly part of your past to make you cower to him.

You can't help it, your hand acts independently of you and you bring it back, throwing it through the air and slapping Dieter harshly across the face. His face snaps to the right, and you can see the slight pink color rushing to his cheek.

The smack echoes in the quiet room.

“Cut.”

Your hand remains raised in the air, stuck as if you’ve been frozen to the spot. Your mouth is agape and your eyes are circles in your face.

You're done. Your career is over.

You've just slapped one of the most famous actors in Hollywood.

Goodbye Oscars. Goodbye fame and fortune. Goodbye life you thought you’d be living.

You watch as Dieter's large, ring-covered hand goes to cup his reddened cheek and he turns back to face you. You're shocked when you see him grinning widely at you, eyes bright.

"Atta girl."

Something like dizzying relief hits you when you see the smile and hear his words. You let out a wild breath of laughter, your hand lowering. The rest of the room is buzzing again, the silence replaced by urgent murmurs and the makeup lady coming over to put something on the red in Dieter’s face. He’s still smiling at you, eyes crinkling in the corners.

“I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t be,” Dieter grins. “That was really good.”

“Did I hurt you?”

“With that slap? Nah. Gotta do it harder if you really wanna leave a mark.”

You can’t help but smile at that. You’re about to say more when you hear Jan call your name. She comes striding over, looking impressed and you rise up off the sofa, your smile plastered on for her.

"Alright thanks so much for coming in," she says shaking your hand. "Did you drive here? We can validate your parking."

You nod, still dazed from what just happened as you hand the stub to the young man flagging you down at the side if the room. You go to thank the woman for the opportunity but she's already turned to Dieter, you’re already forgotten.

"Okay we have a few more women coming in to test against you,” Jan is telling him. “Try to maintain that same level of passion."

Dieter nods, but you see him glancing at you out the corner of his eyes.

"And if you can, try to enunciate a bit better," she includes, looking at her notes.

You don't hear any more of her critiques because you’re being ushered outside the doors towards the elevator. You glance back, wanting to remember this moment. If nothing else it has been an exhilarating time. You catch Dieter’s eyes on your just as someone from inside closes the doors.

///

A week later Gwen gives you a brief smile when you arrive at her office on Sunset. Your stomach is in knots as you climb into the chair across from her looming desk.

Gwen holds no sentimentality, and there are no photos that line her desk, no charming nature photos or inspirational quotes, nothing to put you at ease. Just brick facade overlooking the busy street outside.

"So," Gwen says pulling a folder in front of her and you see your name there in bold felt. "Is it true you slapped Dieter Bravo?"

Fuck. You're getting let go. This is it. You're gonna have to fight tooth and nail to get another agent. Fuck. Fuck.

"Y-yeah," you say, trying to remain as dignified as possible. If you’re going to be let go, you're not going to do it sniveling."I got caught up in the scene. I'm sorry."

"Why are you apologizing?" Gwen smirks, flipping open your folder. "They loved it."

"Wait, really?"

“Yeah, they want you back for a second reading.”

No one is more surprised than you when Gwen details that you’ve been called back for a second chemistry read that Friday.

When you walk back into the same hotel in Burbank you do so with a newfound confidence.

The first audition you could hand to Dieter. Without him, you never would have got through those doors. But now that they’ve seen what you can do they’ve called you back. This means something.

Right?

You walk into the same room only there are far less people today. Just Jan and the camera person. Oh, and Dieter of course with a tall serious looking woman that’s shaking her head at him.

You glance at the page with the scant amount of lines they supplied you with, going over your notes. You stand there reading for a few moments, unaware of the figure approaching you.

“Hey Sudsy.”

Dieter greets you with a smile around a coffee cup. He’s wearing green leggings at least four sizes too big and a long black t-shirt underneath a huge black puffer vest. Despite how ludicrous he looks you know for a fact that everything he’s wearing is designer and worth more than your rent. His sunglasses are there, as they always are.

“Hello.”

“I didn’t make any calls this time,” he assures you, an amused twist to his mouth. “This is all you.”

You give a small smile up at him, nodding. You can’t help but appreciate the fact that he’d emphasize he’d had no part in it. A dark part of you had been wondering if this was just a further favor.

There’s no time for more catching up because Jan is calling you both over, indicating to the small makeshift kitchen they’re utilizing. There’s green X’s on the floor and you make note of them as you’re instructed which ones to hit.

“So I know you were sent a few pages,” Jan says looking harried. “But that acts being rewritten so we’re gonna jump to page forty.”

"Oh I was told just to prepare that first, scene," you say nervously looking over the script and then at Jan.

"Today is more improv than anything," the woman says smiling. "Read the first page and then just go from there."

You nod. You were told by Gwen that today might contain improv, something that you’ve always been good with in the past. But it’s a lot different doing these fun improve classes with your classmates who are always in a good mood. Doing it in front of studio workers? It feels different.

You take a quick peruse at page forty, glancing up to see Dieter doing the same, his mouth moving as he silently reads. Jan gives you a minute before she's behind the camera with the bearded man, eyes on the scene.

"Okay so this scene Cecelia is putting away dishes after the dinner party. Levi is hurt by how she's treating him and he wants to go back to how it was all those years ago when you first fell in love. If you could hit those green marks this time. Okay? Ready when you are."

Everything is so fast, so whirlwind. That’s part of what you love about the business. But right now when you want to get everything right you want it all to slow down. You take a deep breath and for whatever reason you glance at Dieter standing off to the side. Somehow something in his warm brown eyes and the nod he gives you steadies you.

You stand on your first mark, using the props they’ve given you. A washcloth and a glass. You pretend to be cleaning them. You sigh softly, thinking of Cecelia and her broken heart. Of the humiliation she’s had to endure this evening.

“Hey baby."

Dieter’s voice sails over to you from behind. You know from the script that he’s standing there behind you, leaning against the wall and watching you. You bristle under his gaze, frowning.

"I can't stand it when you drink," you say, shaking your head, eyes on the sink.

"And why's that?"

"You get maudlin," you say, pretending to put the dishes away.

"You used to like that about me," Dieter says, his voice husky and you hear his footsteps approach. "Said it reminded you of thoughtful poets."

"I used to like a lot of things about you back then," you say with a cruel laugh, putting the glass to the side. "Things change."

This is where the script left off and you feel yourself panic slightly. You've always been good at improv but for some reason insecurities pop up.

They don't actually want me here.

I'm blowing this.

Fuck. What would Cecelia do? Say?

You look into the sink, feeling overwhelmed. Your shoulders hunch slightly and you can feel it, yourself being pulled from the scene, the energy leaving you. This is your one fucking chance and you’re blowing it!

Fuck fuck fuck.

"Look at me, Cece."

Dieter’s voice reaches out to you, dark and low. It breaks you from the whirring in your mind. You swallow and turn to face Dieter, your features pinched. Your spine is against the counter, your hands gripping the edge of it so tightly your knuckles are pale.

You watch as he approaches yours, slow measured steps and dark eyes that don't leave yours. He’s taken off the sunglasses and the puffer jacket. Without them you notice the length of his lashes and the breadth of his shoulders. It distracts you for a moment.

"What did you like?" Dieter asks as he comes to stand next to you at the sink, hitting his mark on the floor. You gaze up at him, your mind racing.

"W-what?"

"I said what did you like?" He repeats, his body moving closer to yours. "Back then. What did you like about me, Cece?"

You think of your character Cecelia. A woman in love with a man who can't give her what she needs. You think of Levi: a man trodden down by life and how she's had to watch him change from the man she loves into this drunken loser.

"I liked how ambitious you were."

"Mhmmm," Dieter nods and you feel his hands come to wrap around your waist, guiding you hips to his. "What else?"

You feel yourself growing breathless by his proximity. This isn’t Dieter Bravo anymore. The puffer vest is gone, and instead you feel the warmth of his body through his clothes. This is Levi. A man who loves you as much as despises what you’ve become. You try to channel Cecelia as you feel his hips press tightly against yours, urging you back against the counter and pinning you there.

"And how you used to take me dancing."

You remember reading in the earlier script that Cecelia and Levi met dancing. Dieter obviously doesn't because his mouth hitches slightly in amusement. You think he can pass it off as tipsy. His hands go to the counter on either side of you, leaning in, taking up your space.

"I miss how it felt to wake up together," you say, chest tight. You're not expecting Dieters head to dip forward. Your eyes fall closed as you wait for his mouth on yours. But instead you feel his lips drag along your jaw.

"That's all you miss?" Dieter murmurs against your neck as he begins to nuzzle there. "Nothing else?"

You shiver when he kisses you at that soft spot just behind your ear. His hand is on the back of your neck, holding you as he breathes heavily against it, lips full. You can feel his short beard rasp against the sensitive skin of your neck and you hold in a whimper.

Jesus.

You know that this is acting, that this is a job. But his voice is so delicious, rumbling against your skin and his body is so warm and for a moment you forget you're acting in front of a camera.

"I miss the sex," you breathe, your eyes heavy lidded. You feel Dieter's face pull back, eyes surveying your eyes and gently parted mouth before your gaze locks with his.

The air in the room is warm and it's like you can hear a pin drop. No one is moving; it's like you only exist with him in this moment. Cecila and Levi.

"I miss how you felt inside me."

Dieter’s breathing picks up and you don't miss how his neck bobs as he swallows. His face inches towards yours, hand still at your neck to keep you from moving back from him, not that you would.

You feel his full mouth brush against yours, so lightly it could have just been air. His dark eyes are focused solely on your lips. Your hand goes to the collar of his t-shirt, a forefinger curling around it.

"What else?"

"I miss how you used to take what you wanted," you say as his lips graze yours again. His fingers still stay splayed around your neck but his thumb is hooking around your lower lip, opening your mouth to him.

"I miss-"

Whatever you were going to say next is lost as Dieter’s mouth presses against yours. His tongue immediately sliding between your parted lips needing to taste you.

You groan, arms wrapping around his neck, pulling his lips more firmly against yours as he licks into your mouth. He kisses really really well with the kind of passion you feel going up your core. His hands slide along your spine before his arms wrap around you, pulling you flush against his front. And then soon, all too soon he pulls back from you.

"You miss me," Dieter says against your mouth, his dark voice breathless. "But I'm right here, baby. Always have been. You just haven't been looking."

"Okay cut! Perfect."

Jan’s voice breaks into the scene, pulling you both from the moment. You feel Dieter’s hand fall from your neck and body, his eyes losing that soft gaze as he steps back. When he releases you he does so slowly before stepping back, his eyes flying to that same tall woman in the corner as you break apart.

You stand there, still tilted against the counter and feel yourself slowly break from the daze when Jan comes over, smiling and handing Dieter some new pages. You sneak a glance over to Dieter and see him smirking at you before his eyes go back to his script.

“That was really good,” Jan says to you, the surprise clear on her face. “I loved that energy, that coiled desperation.”

You try not to blush under the praise, even though after months of silence it feels so good to be told you’re doing well. You feel breathless, almost giddy. You hadn’t been expecting to feel so much so quickly. You’d assumed you’d need more warming up but you feel electric.

“Hey Stace,” Jan says going back to her chair and calling over to the young girl at the far side of the room that you hadn’t even noticed when you first came in. “Can we do something about the shine on Dieter’s face?”

You feel yourself breathing heavily, your entire body buzzing. Being in his arms, the taste of his peppermint gum still on your own tongue.

"Alright thanks so much for coming in," Jan says with a wave.

You know the drill. You nod, giving a wave to the group before stumbling your way out of the room. You can’t look back this time; you can’t meet Dieter’s eyes because for some reason you feel completely undone.

You’ve never done a scene like that before and it gives you both a thrill and a giddy embarrassment. You know you’re smiling like an idiot as you exit the room, but this immediately ceases when you almost run into a tall and beautiful woman.

It's Haley Braccken, A-list actress and if rumors are to be believed, Dieter’s ex-girlfriend.

You've seen them splashed over the cover of gossip magazines in grocery stores. A particularly lurid image of Dieter snorting coke off her bikini covered tits in Ibiza was especially popular when you were still working at your dead end office job. She's just as luminous in real life as she is on screen.

I thought they wanted an unknown.

Disappointment floods you as you pass her in the elevator. She gives you a polite nod, heading into the same room you've just exited. She smells expensive, like leather handbags and perfume you could never afford. You see her charm bracelet snugly around her wrist and it tinkles as she walks past you.

There's no way you're getting cast in this movie. Why did you raise your hopes up? Why did you think that you, a nobody with a shitty commercial under her belt, could go to against real actresses?

///

“Don’t be so hard on yourself,” Carlee insists that evening as you prepare for work later that afternoon. You pull on your starched dress shirt, groaning about Haley Braccken for the fiftieth time that evening. Carlee is impossibly patient and supportive.

“She’s beautiful Car,” you tell her frowning into the mirror. “Younger, more beautiful, more famous. Why the fuck wouldn’t they hire her?”

“She may be wrong for the part.”

“When you look like Haley Braccken, there is no wrong part.”

Carlee gives you a pat on the shoulder before moving from you. She knows there’s no point in talking to you when you’re morose like this. You hear her close the door to her bedroom and you sigh.

You go to grab your purse from the coffee table and are down the hallway when you hear the sharp ring of your cell. You’re surprised to see Gwen’s name come up on the display. It’s later in the day and there’s always that lingering doubt, that endless fear that she’s going to drop you.

“Hello?”

“You got a minute?”

“Yep.”

“Well, apparently the chemistry read was off the charts."

Gwen never sounds this warm. It’s actually surreal to hear her voice so excited in relation to your acting. So you must have done well. No, you must have done really fucking well. So you're not getting fired. Maybe Gwen just wants to congratulate you on a job well done, to say well done on not embarrassing the agency.

“Really?”

“Yeah. And that’s saying something because rumor is Bravo can be hard to work with," Gwen observes shrewdly.

"He was actually really helpful," you offer, feeling the need to come to his defense. "I had to rely on him for a lot and he really came through."

"That must be why the demo tested so well. I have to say I was pretty impressed myself."

"You saw it?"

"Of course. I need to know how my actors are performing."

An arrogant part of you wants to watch the footage, but another part doesn't want to bother. Its obvious that Dieter’s ex will have gotten the part and watching you act knowing there's no pay off seems wasteful. You need to focus on the next project, the next audition.

"I'm glad I could represent you and the agency to your satisfaction," you say smiling. "It was really exciting to get in front of some big movers and shakers."

Gwen gives you a nod. "Well I just finished drawing up your final contract. So let's go over it tomorrow and we can talk next steps. Can you make it into the office?"

"Contract?"

Your heart is pounding so loudly you can't hear anything else.

Ba boom ba boom.

Gwen is saying something but all you can hear is that quickening roar in your ears. The sound of blood rushing in them. You swallow shakily, looking at your reflection in the hallway mirror and see the elation in your brightness of your eyes. Suddenly you can hear everything.

"Yeah. You got the part."

#dieter bravo #dieter x reader #pedro pascal dieter #pedro pascal characters #smut #fanfict #fanfiction #fanfic #pedro pascal smut #acting #actor #actress #the bubble #dieter bravo smut #dieter bravo fanfiction

58 notes · View notes

dracwife · 8 months

Text

rites.

ship: curumo (saruman)/ídhril

word count: 1035

summary: idrhil and curumo get a moment alone during an elven festival. see the end for some explanations/clarifications, this has quite a bit of weird lore stuff to it that takes place far before any of the films!

They watch the feast celebration, from the far comforts of one of the high balconies of the Royal Family's Court -- Ídrhil's dwelling, granted to him for the purpose of training. In other words: His room, as appointed by the King, his father.

He stands stiffly, next to the tall, dark-haired Maia -- a god, or as close as you could get, and yet there he too waits, next to the Woodland elf whose small commune was far from his native land -- whose bandages wrapped tightly around his torso, and who still aches in places, even after months of healing. He could, at least, walk now with ease. Together they watch the crowd that has gathered on this cool night, amongst the repurposed Elven village. A line of children, young men and women, and a few adults even stand in line, with fathers and mothers once at a time guiding their children through their ritual -- that of choosing a new name, an important step in their lives, a sign of maturity and independence. Their King stands just beyond them, the highest honor for the families that participate.

Curumo hopes he is remembering it all correctly, for Ídrhil had explained it all rather quickly the night previous. He can barely make out the voices from afar.

"What are they saying?"

Ídrhil mumbles a long string of something similar enough to Sindarin, not so much repeating as he is reciting. He finishes in tandem with the distant child and after pauses, raising his glass slightly.

"Drink to me, for I am born again. And alone do I walk this path in life, sure and strong will I forge ahead my own way."

Curumo hums, intrigued.

"It is a rite of passage, then? This festival, this Mereth Nuin Giliath."

"Not so much as it is a celebration. The words, they are the rite. As is choosing a new name, befitting of your nature. It is an important part of my people's culture."

"What does yours mean?"

The elf turns his head, meeting the other's eyes.

"Ídrhil, one who longs, or desires."

"You chose this name?"

He nods, to which Curumo questions him again: "What do you long for?"

"To travel. To learn. Wandering is in my nature, it is what my clan does, but we never go far enough to meet anyone else; We do not fare well with strangers, you saw that for yourself when you awoke here. It frightens them, I think. The idea that we are not the last of our kind."

"And you?"

"I believe there are others. That there must be. I wish to find them, and even if there are not, I wish to try. There is so much out there, beyond Valinórë, and even beyond Middle-Earth. I want to go there. I want to see it for myself."

"An admirable quest. If you ever go, I would wish to go with you."

Ídrhil smiles.

"Curumo, it is Quenya, is it not? 'Skilled one,' if my memory serves."

"Where ever did you learn Quenya?"

"I would sneak out when I was young, when we would settle near the abandoned Vanyar camps. Sometimes there were scripts there -- I deciphered what I could from them. I fear my father has a far better grasp on the language than I, not that I would ever admit to him I knew any of it at all."

"In that case, I am pleased to say you remember quite well."

"Thank you," Ídrhil bows his head. When he raises it, their gazes meet again.

A moment passes.

"Curunír, in my tongue."

"...I quite like the sound of that." He raises his glass with a smile, "Will you not drink to me, then? Is that not the custom?"

Ídrhil nods with a chuckle, sips from his cup finally. Curumo -- Curunír -- does the same. He sucks in a breath at the bitter taste.

"I've not ever tasted such strong wine."

"It is not our usual drink, I thought it might suit a Maia better than the tastes of the Tawarwaith traditional wine."

"Is that so? May I decide for myself?"

Ídrhil offers a glass that is all but empty, "I'm afraid I've had the majority of my own, I did not get much for I do not drink often --"

"That's alright," Curumo hushes him. They face each other, the light of the moon scarcely illuminating the balcony they stand on, and it is then the taller of the two takes a small step forward, with what little space between them collapsing and leans down, hesitating only slightly in anticipation before pressing his lips to the elf's.

The kiss is bitter, not in the way Ídrhil expects but in the familiar taste of the strong ale he's brought his companion -- alongside it mint, and the milk and honey of the sweet batter they'd shared earlier that evening as a traditional dessert -- and he melts deeper into the kiss as the cup falls from his hand and shatters against the marbled floor; He sighs, his hand coming to rest against the Maia's cheek and then shortly after tangles into dark hair as he indulges finally in the touch he's craved for so long. When Curumo finally pulls away, he's grinning, cunning as his name suggests and he licks the last of the wine from his own lips.

"Wine has never tasted so sweet, I think."

Ídrhil feels his face flush, and from trembling lips falls more broken Sindarin, but Curumo is smart enough to decipher it this time around --

"Kiss me again, please."

And he does, wrapping his arms around Ídrhil and pulling him close this time. He brushes a stray hair out of the druid's face just after. Neither say anything, and months of time, though but a fleeting moment in both their lives for as long as they have lived come rushing back to Ídrhil, and for once so does a future, a forever, worth living for.

"Le melin," the elf breathes, his head still resting against the immortal's.

Curumo tilts away inquisitively, awaiting again a translation, but Ídrhil does not offer one, shaking his head with a solemn smile, "Perhaps we best get back to the feast."

"If you so wish."

Silmarillion Jr., or:

A couple of translations/explanations because I know this has some weird deep universe lore to it.

Maia(r): A race of ancient immortal beings that helped create all living things.

Curumo: A Maia, who would later be sent to Middle-Earth as the much more recognizable Saruman.

Sindarin: The language of certain Elven races, generally what most people refer to as Elvish.

Mereth Nuin Giliath: Sindarin, "Feast Under the Stars."

Valinórë: The Kingdom West of Middle-Earth, where immortal beings such as elves and Maia reside.

Quenya: Another Elven language, spoken commonly in the Elves of Valinórë.

Vanyar: A race of Elves.

Tawarwaith: The Sindarin name for Wood-Elves.

Le melin: "I love you."

#i dont even have a tag for them yet. whatever.#dex.writes #gn. im not lucid enough to be perceived for this.

31 notes · View notes

writeyouin · 2 years

Note

What would it be like if TFP Knockout had a trans male bf? Maybe they suffer a lot of dysphoria sometimes and he helps them? Thank you 🌸💕

Knock Out (TFP) X Trans-Reader – Dysphoria

A/N – Hey there, I hope you don’t mind but I kept this gender-neutral so that those on the other side of the trans community can enjoy it too.

Warnings – Identity Crises. Self-Loathing.

Rating – T

You stood in Knock Out’s hab-suite, trying to focus on anything that wasn’t your reflection while you waited for Knock Out to return from whatever job Starscream had sent him to do. Usually, waiting for Knock Out wasn’t a problem, but today you were having a crisis of identity, pacing restlessly as you tried to shake away the claustrophobic entity known as dysphoria.

One of life’s greatest cruelties was being born in the wrong body, and it was only made worse by societies that made people like you feel like shit because of their short-sighted views on what constituted gender. While things were changing for the better, it wasn’t nearly fast enough for anyone who struggled with self-identity or confidence.

Had you been at home, you might have coped better with the ability to walk away from your mocking reflection which often lied about who you really were on the inside. Yet, stuck in Knock Out’s hab-suite you were trapped, surrounded by views of yourself from every angle thanks to the mirrors that lined all the walls to feed Knock Out’s ego. Worst of all, you couldn’t leave the room since no other Decepticon knew that you were aboard the ship; you were Knock Out’s secret and if anyone else found you, they would likely think of you as a pest to be squashed.

Struggling against an onslaught of terrible thoughts and insults perpetrated by the surrounding reflections, you were forced to retreat into yourself. You sat down, hugging your legs and pressing your face into the safety of your lap, awaiting the time that Knock Out would return to rescue you.

Knock Out strutted confidently through the Nemesis, taking his time as he passed by the admiring gazes of lesser bots. Some of them wondered why such a handsome mech would ever choose a land-based vehicle mode, but none dared to ask since Knock Out liked to come up with new, brutal ways to torture bots and they didn’t want to be on the wrong end of the medic’s operating table.

On his way back to his hab-suite, Knock Out made no attempt to rush, satisfied that you were probably entertaining yourself; besides, rushing was out of character for him, so he would only draw unwanted attention if he did so. However, when Knock Out finally returned to his room, finding you crouched down on the floor, he felt guilty for having not gotten back to you sooner.

He looked down upon you pityingly, finding your very existence to be a sad one. He couldn’t imagine how terrible it was to be unable to transform into the form you most desired as he and his kind could.

After glancing up at his reflection and finding Primus’ most perfect creation looking back, Knock Out could only sigh. He wished that you could feel the same kind of self-adoration that he did, but that kind of confidence didn’t manifest overnight; it was a skill that had to be worked on just like anything else.

Knock Out sat next to you and rested a servo on your back.

“Rough day?” He asked gently, used to your dysphoric episodes.

Your response was muffled, but Knock Out was sure he heard confirmation of his suspicions.

“it gets easier, you know. You start off by upgrading your frame, chipping away at some pieces, modifying others, then one day all the hard work pays off and you find yourself.”

You lifted your head from your lap dazedly and looked at him, then at your reflection which seemed just as warped as before.

“But that isn’t enough…” You said, your voice cracking despairingly.

“No,” Knock Out agreed. “It isn’t.”

“Why?” You asked, desperately seeking answers.

“Because that’s only the first step.”

“Then what’s the next one?”

“Getting over the paranoia. You’ve got to stop waiting for people to misgender you. Stop assuming that they’ll see right through you like you’re wearing a disguise. Your body is not a disguise, (Y/N). That’s you. The real you. Getting past the paranoia is hard, but once you do, you get to the best part.”

“Which is…?” You prompted tentatively, hanging onto Knock Out’s every word as if they were lifelines thrown out to sea, saving you from the threat of drowning.

“Building up your confidence, of course,” He answered arrogantly.

“Okay,” You breathed, taking in his advice. “Body Image. Paranoia. Confidence.”

“Exactly.”

You nodded, repeating the steps a few times like a mantra, then when you were done, you looked at the large bot next to you with new eyes. “Knock Out?”

“Yes?”

“How do you know all this?”

“Ah,” Knock Out tipped his head, an old memory playing before his optics, giving him a faraway expression. “Well, when you’re the only Vehicon in a unit of flyers, people look at you differently. They ask unwanted questions. They’re disrespectful.”

You stood up, holding onto Knock Out’s thigh and watching him intently.

“What did you do?”

“I worked my way up the ranks. I figured that if I was better than everyone else they couldn’t question my choices.”

“Did it work?”

“It did for a while, but then I chose to become a medic, and because of my career path… Well, there are always going to be those who outrank me.”

Knock Out shook his head and smiled at you, “But it was never about them. It was always about me. Once I stopped caring about what everyone else thought and focused on myself, I was free.”

As you contemplated Knock Out’s advice, he stood up. He offered you his servo and you took it, allowing him to lead you to the centre of the room where you were met by a host of your reflections.

“Now,” He said, “Tell me what you see.”

You examined yourself, trying to find the person you wanted to be. After a moment’s hesitation, you had an answer.

“I see a person who’s still changing, and I like who I’m becoming.”

“And…?” Knock Out prompted, pointing a clawed digit at himself.

“And a smoking hot bot who I love,” You grinned.

“That’s better. Now let’s get out of here. I’m itching to run my tyres on some smooth tarmac.”

You nodded eagerly, allowing Knock Out to discreetly carry you to the Nemesis’ ground-bridge. With him, you felt safe, all thoughts of self-loathing forgotten.

Like My Work? Buy Me A Ko-Fi @ https://ko-fi.com/writeyouin

#transformers #tfp #transformers prime #maccadam #knockout #knock out #knockout x reader #knock out x reader #knockout x you #knock out x you #fanfiction #fanfic #reader insert #reader #dysphoria

97 notes · View notes

meshlasolus · 2 years

Text

House Of Memories (40/?)

Obi-Wan Kenobi x Padawan!reader

Warnings: ansgt (the usual) this is rlly sad obi is crying-

Summary: You go to Obi-Wan to express to him your desire to leave the order, but you aren't sure you can go through with it.

A/n: anyways, this is short and not sweet. good night

also y'all if you like the story, maybe consider buying me a coffee :)

Words: 2.1k

The sun was setting, and as you found Obi-Wan, on one of the balconies outside the temple overlooking the gardens, you noticed how saddened he already seemed. Oh no... if this was going to be hard originally, now it seemed on the verge of impossible. You were miserable in terms of the order, with the council seemingly finding fault in your every move, as well as risking your life without thanks or gratitude in return. It was just expected of you. You needed to voice these feelings to him, to let him know you wanted out and away from everything that would cause you stress and even mortal danger.

He would understand, wouldn't he? That this wasn't because of him, or that you wanted to be away from where he resided. This was about you, and yet, even thinking that thought in your head sounded selfish. He had given up far more than you ever did, his life was basically as a slave to the republic, and he never once complained. He kept on, brave and stoic like a solider, though you knew his heart was gentle and kind. If anyone should get to leave, it's him.

When he spotted you walking towards him, his features lit up, as if he'd been in a dark room for hours without any communication, and you were his rescuer. He turned from the balcony's ledge, facing you with an arm extended. He beckoned for you to join him, and there was no hesitation as you stepped beside him and leaned on the rail support, him following suit right after. You weren't even sure how to begin, it was a horrible feeling, the one creeping up in your stomach that made you want to run away and hide and avoid this confrontation. After everything he's done for you... how dare you do this to him? He loves you so much, why do you continue to consider it?

"I sense you're troubled, little one," he leaned in beside you, nudging your arm with his own and focusing all of his energy on surrounding you like an embrace. "If it's about Ahsoka, I can assure you I am grieving her absence as well."

You shook your head; this is a bad idea. He'd already sensed something was wrong, and you couldn't lie to him. He always knew when you were not telling the truth. Would telling him straight out be too abrupt? Would he think your decision foolish and unthought out? Probably, because it was unthought of. You'd flipped like a switch and wanted to leave, but it had been building up for longer than that.

"I want-" you cut yourself off, looking down at your hands and feeling a stab at the back of your throat. It had to be said, one way or another. "I want to go with her, I want to leave the order."

You closed your eyes and hoped for the best, waiting eagerly for a response.

You felt him tense up beside you and let out a shaking breath. That was not what he'd expected you to say at all. It was clear to you he didn't even know what to say, because what do you say to the person you've devoted your life to, the one you wish to wake up beside for the rest of your life, when they've told you they want to leave the place you are?

"I see," his voice held pain, clear as day and dripping from only two words.

You wanted to explain your reasoning to list all the times and situations for why you were miserable, but that was unfair. He did his best every day to sooth that misery and make it better for you, to cushion each blow the council gave you, or convince them to on missions of higher caliber. To tell him that despite his best efforts, you hated it here, would be cruel.

"I know it seems like a bad idea, but-"

"How long?" he turned to you, and though you didn't look up right away, it was evident in his tone that his expression must be contorted into that of insufferable anguish.

"What?"

When your eyes met his, you could barely breathe. His eyes were watering past the brink of no return, spilling out the corners though he tried to keep them contained. He was crying... because of you.

"How long have you wanted this?" He rephrased his wording, adding context, and shattering your heart in doing so. He thought you'd been hiding it from him. He thought you weren't happy here, with him. If only he could know how he makes you feel, to know the rush you get only to be in the same room with him, standing beside him even now. But he was hurting, and you needed to fix it, and fast.

"I only just thought of it, today," you replied, taking a step closer to him, although he didn't seem in the mood for a comforting gesture at the moment.

"I don't understand," he had to think for a moment. What had he done that you would consider leaving him this way, and just after he fought so hard to keep Ahsoka in the temple, he was going to lose both of you in the same day?

"The council has gotten out of control; the Jedi Order is not the same as it was before the war, and we have become soldiers of the republic," your rant filled your speech with ferocity, and it burdened you to know that this was unfortunately the way it was, now. "We're meant to be peacekeepers, Obi."

"And you think leaving will make it better?"

He had you, there.

"What could I do if I stay? I'm sure now the council hates me, exclusions to you and Master Yoda, and with no ability to prove my worth, I will probably never even make it to the rank of Jedi Knight. I'm practically useless to so anything, and you know it."

It was silent for a few moments, and you wondered if he now shared your vision, the reasons why you would even suggest leaving in the first place.

"You could prove them wrong," he said firmly, swallowing down the unevenness in his voice if only for those words.

Now it was your turn to be quiet, to think about what he was asking of you. You worked day and night, putting in the best of efforts, and no matter what you laid on the line for the order, they ignored you every time. Imagine proving them wrong....

You turned back to the view of the gardens, wanting to get a clear perspective, facing away from the only thing that could possibly make living here worthwhile. Maybe if you weren't looking at him, maybe if you chose to-

"If there is anything that I have done that may have persuaded you to such decisions, please tell me," and here it was. He wasn't trying to make you feel guilty, he wasn't even trying to make you stay, but he wanted very sincerely to know if he was the one who had caused you to think this way. "Whatever it is... I'm so sorry, my love."

"Obi, you have done nothing wrong; I promise. It's everything else."

You immediately turned back in his direction, taking his face in your hands and making him look at you while you said it. He leaned into your palm and closed his eyes, so fond of your touch, and so frightened of what he'd ever do without it.

"If you leave tonight, I will have to come with you."

But could he really go? Could he stand knowing there were things in the galaxy happening without him, without his help and without his knowledge of how to win? He was happy here, in his element, though some days were rough, and the risks were always present, he was alive and well and happy to help in any way he could. More than anything, he was happy to have you by his side, to continue your training and to make you prepared for the trials he knew you would face.

"I could never ask that of you," you whispered, shaking your head and scrunching up your features to show your disapproval. "I could never take you away, knowing that this is where you belong."

That statement didn't sound right to him, because it made him feel as if there was only one place from him, and though there was, it wasn't with the Jedi Order.

"I belong to you, little one. Wherever you go, I shall follow."

You smiled sadly as his sentiment, knowing he meant it entirely. He loved you as if you were the one to breathe life into his lungs, as if you hung every star in the sky and named them all just for him. You were his everything, his happiness, his light. She is the light incarnate...it was always a constant.

"General Kenobi can't leave his station," you wanted to try and pry yourself away from him. You knew that the physical contact would only take its toll on you and make this far worse than it had to be.

You dropped your hands from his face, backing away and trying not to make it obvious as to your movements in the opposite direction. He sensed it, but was not ready to let it end this way. It wasn't his intention to keep you imprisoned, but to help you flourish like the beautiful blossom he knew you would become.

He took a large step to your body, gently, but quick as lighting, he wrapped his hand around your waist, the other going behind your neck and holding it like it would break with the softest amount of pressure. He pulled you to him in one smooth motion, kissing you with all the passion and love, and devotion he held in his heart for your very being. Your mere existence was enough to provide him with a daily will, but having you in his arms this way, in the most intimate of embraces you've ever experienced, it brought him a meaning, a purpose of why he kept on with his daily wage. If his actions were somehow unclear, he wanted you to feel it radiating from him as well. He extended his signature and held it out for you to take, as a hand that awaited to be held, but only if you chose to. You took it, and moaned into his mouth at the feelings that coursed through you due to it. His kisses grew deeper and more fervent, the heavy breathing through his nose told you he didn't want it to end, and you also were unwilling to pull away... until you realized where you both were standing.

You pushed back at him gently, which was all he needed to know to stop. Your eyes were glazed with something so hungry, but they became clearer upon taking in the surroundings.

"Obi, someone could see-"

"I don't care... I love you, and I want you by my side always, wherever that is," he let out, and though he seemed to be high on whatever that kiss brought upon you, the uplifted joy in his voice brought you a sort of peace in his words. "That is, if you'll have me."

You scoffed, glancing around to see if you were both truly alone before you pulled him back in for another kiss.

Ahsoka was about to leave, thinking that perhaps you'd made your decision. She stood to her feet and almost got to the edge of the alleyway when you crossed her vision.

She almost couldn't believe it. You really did choose to leave the order? Even after talking with Obi-Wan?

"I thought you wouldn't be coming," he said honestly, crossing her arms and smirking for emphasis.

"I'm not," you told her, the look on your face wasn't as determined as it had been earlier, and it made her confused as to your appearance in the alley.

"Then why did you-?"

"I wasn't going to let you leave without saying goodbye, Ahsoka."

She let her smirk become a sweet smile. You'd been there for her since she became Anakin's Padawan, and even before that, she had known you to be somewhat of a sisterly figure to her. Always looking out for one another and making it so that you always knew you had someone in your corner. Whichever one of you it would be, you knew that if everyone in the galaxy despised you, you'd have a friend in each other. You hoped this was not the last time you'd see her.

She walked the few extra steps left, embracing you tightly, and you reveled in the feeling, knowing that if you ever did cross paths again, it would probably be long off in the future.

"I'm going to miss you more than you know."

"Oh, trust me, I know..."

@spencerrxids @sawendel @fandomstanner24 @i-shall-abide @officialjellydoughnut @whatshxrname @darkened-writer @superavengerpotter @cutiepoo16 @hypnoash @softlymellow @howlerwolfmax @mephistominion @honestlywtfisgoingon @anakinskywalkerog @mandiiellen @je--a-n @guyinachair27 @avenger5-a55emble @amelia-song-pond @kaminanii @the-abyss-of-fandoms @queenofnightdreamland @world-dominating-kitty @mandowhatnow @ella-error505 @annahalo @infinity-witch @beetlejuice-stuff @liueski @solarbxby @sirianisrock @lxdyred @endless-warrior-always-fighter @iloveinej @msjb2002 @shoochi @itsilvermorny @gingerrosecosplay @sebschicken @loversjoy @argentinemango @1-800-vader @house-of-kolchek @marierg @graciexmarvel @ttzamara @truly-madly-nerdy @molieux @majahu @dyzlks @pancakefancake

#obi wan x padawan #obi wan kenobi #obi wan series #obi wan x reader #obi wan kenobi x reader #ewan mcgregor #hayden christensen #obi wan kenobi x padawan!reader #obi wan x you #obi wan x y/n #obi wan x oc #obi wan smut #obi wan angst #obi wan fluff

346 notes · View notes

novelmonger · 3 months

Note

Faramir x Éowyn, Fëanor x Nerdanel, Anakin x Padmé for the ship ask game?

(those are all canon couples, but I assume that's what you're mostly asking for?)

(Feel free to ask about any ships, but it's true that canon ones are most likely to be ones that I ship ^^')

Farawyn - Ship It

What made you ship it?

Then the heart of Eowyn changed, or else at last she understood it. And suddenly her winter passed, and the sun shone on her. 'I stand in Minas Anor, the Tower of the Sun,' she said; 'and behold! the Shadow has departed! I will be a shieldmaiden no longer, nor vie with the great Riders, nor take joy only in the songs of slaying. I will be a healer, and love all things that grow and are not barren.' And again she looked at Faramir. 'No longer do I desire to be a queen,' she said. Then Faramir laughed merrily. 'That is well,' he said; 'for I am not a king.'

2. What are your favorite things about the ship?

A love that heals. The way Eowyn turns from despair and her hopeless infatuation with Aragorn (or rather, the life that she might have with Aragorn), and instead of longing for glory and death in battle, she sees a future full of light and hope and growing things, a future where she settles down in a garden with a man who is not and never will be a king. The way Faramir looks on her, understands her, and is touched by her despair, rather than turning away from it.

3. Is there an unpopular opinion you have on your ship?

Hmm...I don't think so? Farawyn seems to be a pretty popular ship, at least in my circles. Maybe my unpopular opinion is that I ship it, but I'm not feral about it XD

Fëanor x Nerdanel - I ship it,

but I have literally no thoughts about them, sorry ^^' Other than that Feanor is a jerk and Nerdanel deserves better (because just about everyone deserves better than Feanor). I ship it because it's canon (and obviously it must have been a functional marriage, see: seven sons), but I don't, like...have strong feelings about it. (Does that go against the definition of "shipping"?)

Anidala - Ship It

What made you ship it?

This is another case of me mostly shipping it just because it's canon ^^' While I find a lot of their interactions kind of cringey in the movies (more due to the writing than anything else), I've found that they can be very sweet and wholesome in fanfiction. So the moral of the story, I guess, is that these characters work really well together in the right hands, and I'm more or less excited about shipping them depending on who's in charge.

2. What are your favorite things about the ship?

What Baby Novie couldn't see, back when the prequel trilogy was first coming out and she was too busy gagging over just about every romance she came across, was that Anakin and Padme are actually very well suited to each other. Yes, they end up in a very problematic place, but that's exacerbated by Palpatine's influence. I guess we'll never know for sure what would have happened without that, but it would at least have given them more breathing room to actually work through their problems with communication, Anakin's fears of losing those important to him, etc.

All that's to say, when the Dark Side isn't mucking things up, they make a very good team, bringing very different insights and experiences to the table as well as a lot of compassion and support for each other. I think that's sweet.

3. Is there an unpopular opinion you have on your ship?

...I've been wracking my brains, and I honestly can't think of any. I don't have a whole lot of opinions on them to start with, and most of those are fairly generic.

#ask and you shall receive #marietheran #lord of the rings #lotr #faramir #eowyn #the silmarillion #feanor #nerdanel #star wars #anakin skywalker #padme amidala

3 notes · View notes

bwhitex · 4 months

Text

Ho, ho, ho, you fabulous Queer as folk!

This holiday season, toss out that old wish list. Instead of zoning in on what you think you want, why not fling the door wide open to the unexpected delights that might sashay your way? Make it your New Year’s pledge to be gloriously slutty and supremely open. Who knows? Oh, the age-old game of "hit it and quit it," where promises are as fleeting as shooting stars, and the morning-after plan is often no more than a fantasy! But what happens when the stars align and the fun turns out to be top-tier, chart-topping, and unforgettable? Suddenly, those little white lies you sprinkled like snowflakes might start a blizzard you hadn't planned for.

You see, even the most seasoned players in this game sometimes forget the human heart isn't just a toy in a game of emotional Jenga. When you're out there delivering the best "gifts" of the season and you strike gold, will you be ready for the encore that everyone craves after a blockbuster performance?

Because let's face it, we're all human. We have a knack for clinging to the sweet stuff and running miles from anything that hints at a sour note. And when we find someone who turns the bedroom into a Broadway hit, we're more likely to "encore" than "exit stage left."

So, before you don that Santa suit and promise a one-night wonderland, ponder this: What's your strategy for when the night turns into a hit that no one wants to end? Can you navigate the aftermath with the same finesse you used to charm your way into their... stockings?

Now, talking New Year's and all that jazz, let's be the gift that keeps on giving, shall we? A man, with not just a mood for feeling Jolly, but one who is a step ahead, and fully aware of the natural outcomes that come his top 10 best sexual encounters. It's time to craft a cunning plan for your carnal cravings, and ultimately finding the best satisfaction for that. Who knew you could be such a winner this year. When you embark on your next pleasure-seeking voyage, don't just bob along on the waves of desire—chart a course as if you're on the hunt for the best sex ever. And hey, let's not forget the aftershocks of such seismic pleasures. Because, let's face it, an earth-shattering romp can seriously shake up your views in the best possible way.

Out with the fibs of "Oh, I'm just here for a quick roll in the hay." We all know the tune changes when the hayride turns out to be a five-star thrill ride. Suddenly, you've got a stage-five clinger who can't get enough because, surprise, repeat performances are in high demand when the show's that good.

This season, let's sprinkle a little wisdom in our wake. Picture yourself as Santa's cheekiest elf, schooling the clueless on the subtle art of matching their loud words with their naughty actions.

Now, let's chat about the birds and the bees and the consequences, please. Think about the intricate dance of intimacy and impact this year. The better we get at understanding our own and others' emotional and cognitive quirks, the more holly and jolly the world becomes.

So, you suave Santas, get your act together. Be the man with a master plan for the thrills and spills of those close encounters. Great sex? It's an experience to be felt, a connection to be nurtured. It's not just about the "what" and "when," but the "how" and the "who" that makes Santa's sleigh ride dangerously exciting.

This year, do the community a solid: Shift from "looking for" to "who I hope to find" in your quest for those steamy escapades.

Gear up, Santa's squad. Have a game plan for the sweet aftermath of finding what you're after. Trust in the quest for greatness in the sack it's out there, and it's waiting for you. Don't sweat the small stuff; focus on the big picture like how you'll handle all that festive joy you're about to unwrap.

Wishing you a season filled with mischief, merriment, and a sleigh load of unforgettable adventures!

Xoxo

One of Santa’s sauciest sidekicks

1 note · View note

smollestskele · 1 year

Text

Hello tumblr-void.

As I have the insatiable need to vomit my emotions to a population that'll never know me irl, I'm only left with this place to put this that they won't see it:

I wanna get back with my ex so fuckin bad.

They and I literally only broke up because of

Family sabatogue

Undiagnosed and severe metal illness

FUCK YOU MOM, YOU GET YOUR OWN BULLET POINT FOR TRIGGERING THEIR BPD TO MANIFEST. FUCK. YOU. YOU AND YOUR UNDIAGNOSED-BPD SHIT.

Aggressive inability to read each other's autism

Not understanding how the other one showed how aggressively horny they were

And select psychosis-related lack of communication

All of which we've finally communicated and talked over in a healthy way, finally.

This is so stupid. I was the one pining for like a year and knowing I couldn't say anything til they figured some things out about themself in college. "Hey, ik I'm a lesbian and ur a transman, so we can't date cuz I can't see myself with a man even though this is the first genuine crush i've had since my first ex in high school!" followed by silently screaming in joy when they trusted me first to talk about how they might really be non-binary and me learning that burying my feelings to not invalidate their gender and my desires for anyone not a man may have been uneeded. 6 months of waiting to make sure they didn't rush to conclusions and were comfy being NB, of hoping they'd say they were even though I'd support them no matter what.

And now here I am FUCKING AGAIN! FUCK THIS, MAN!! (Granted we mutually pined, but I held off saying stuff cuz I didn't wanna interrupt their self-discovery and jump the gun on some things so it counts). THE FIRST TIME WAS ENOUGH AND NOW I GOTTA HOPE, DESPITE BEING LIKE 99% SURE, THAT THEY HAVEN'T MOVED ON AND WANNA TRY AGAIN TOO?? AND HOPE THEY DON'T FIND SOMEONE WAY BETTER SUITED FOR THEM THAT THEY TOTALLY DESERVE OVER MY ROCD ASS??

WHAT THE FUCK KINDA GOD MADE MY LIFE ONE NEVER-ENDING ROMCOM!?!

I know, I get it. I asked for a romance novel type relationship. But I DID NOT ASK FOR SOME BL-TROPE, BURNED OUT TOO HARD AND THEN FELL BACK IN LOVE AFTER TIME APART PLOT-LINE BS, GFY GOD!!

#Ignore me #Or don't #whatevs

1 note · View note

apple-valley-gym-q2g7ybq · 11 months

Text

Classy Apple Valley CA GYM

Popular Apple Valley CA GYM Memberships

youtube

Best Fitness Routine: I'm sure you're familiar of how expensive it can be to colleague a gym! gone that in mind, here are some tips on how to acquire your workout from home. All you obsession is a few square feet of floor vent to reach the gone routine. It's great for people who live in small apartments and don't have right of entry to a gym. 1) Pushups - This is one of the most basic bodyweight exercises there is. You can reach pushups anywhere! Just create sure you have a soft surface gone rug or a towel under your hands. 2) Calf Raises - Stand on something high acceptable appropriately that your foot can't touch the field even though standing straight up. Stand on the edge of this point toward gone one leg, appropriately that the supplementary leg hangs off (like in the picture). raise and demean your body even though keeping both legs straight, using deserted your calves. 3) Situps - Lay on your urge on gone your knees bent going on towards your chest and your arms at your side. raise yourself slightly off the floor by using your abdominal muscles. demean urge on all along to the field and repeat until you've over and done with as many as you can. 4) Wall Pushups - Stand facing a wall about two feet The best fitness routine is the one that you'll actually do. If you're feeling overwhelmed by all of the options, begin gone just a few basics to acquire yourself into a routine. Here are my recommendations on how to acquire started: -Start enlargement your core by accomplish crunches and planks all day, whether at house or in the gym

Highly Rated 24 Hour Apple Valley CA GYM for Locals

Gym memberships are a great way to stay in shape and to get healthier. But it can also be very expensive. Nowadays, people might want to try different types of workout that are more practical and fun. A good example of this kind is Zumba. This workout combines fitness and music. It is a fun way to work out, especially for women who do not like going to the gym. Its classes can be found at gyms and fitness centers. They are also offered at yoga studios, dance studios or even community centers. Gym memberships are a great way to stay active and healthy. It's easy to justify your membership: you're paying for a service that you'll use, you're getting back what you pay for, and it's a good investment. However, after a few months, the novelty of your new gym wears off, and the cost starts to seem like more trouble than it's worth. The gym itself could be too big or too small for your needs. You might feel intimidated by the size of the building. On the other side of the spectrum, if your gym is too small, it doesn't have enough equipment or space to accommodate all its members. You might find yourself waiting in line to use machines that are popular with other people. It's important to find a gym that is the right size for you. If it's too big or too small, there are probably plenty of other gyms in your area that would suit you better.

The Best Apple Valley CA GYM Personal Trainers

I wanted to keep this section short, as I character gone most people already have a fine idea of how to be healthy. Eating well, exercising, not smokingwe all know how it goes. But for anyone who needs some hope to reach these things, here's some advice on how to acquire started on a healthier lifestyle. The first thing you obsession is a goal. What reach you want? Is it weight loss? More energy? Or maybe you desire to just be happier in your own skin? all it is, declare what you want, and later figure out how to acquire there. If you're infuriating to lose weight, maybe begin gone a food diary and character going on an exercise routine. If you just desire energy, maybe meditation would be a fine area to start. gone you have a plot and begin taking accomplish towards your goal, it's important not to let yourself fall into the lie in wait of self-blame or offer going on gone things don't go according to plan. Even if you think that dieting isn't in action because you ate too many cookies this weekend (which happens), don't beat yourself going on about it - just keep trying! gone acceptable mature and practice, your efforts will pay off and you'll acquire to where you desire to be. And A healthy lifestyle is more than just eating the right foods and getting acceptable sleep; it's about making healthy choices in all you do. even though the most common examples of this are aligned to bodily healthexercise, diet, etc.it actually applies to all aspect of your life, from how you handle your finances to how you preserve interaction gone contacts and associates to how you educate yourself. https://classyapplevalleycagym.blogspot.com/2023/05/classy-apple-valley-ca-gym.html Apple Valley CA Gym Fitness https://persianrugrepairsandiego136.blogspot.com/ https://persianrugrepairsandiego136.blogspot.com/2023/05/persian-rug-repair-san-diego.html https://hesperiaairconditioningservice.blogspot.com/ https://hesperiaairconditioningservice.blogspot.com/2023/05/hesperia-air-conditioning-service.html https://tiptonvilletndumpsterrental.blogspot.com/

#Youtube

0 notes

phantomenby · 2 years

Text

The apple of my eye

Hi, I am wondering if it is possible to request an imagine where poly the lost boys comforting their female reader because her parents body-shamed her?

Hitting close to home today, eh anon? Hope it suits your needs bubs <3

"Stop that right now child! You look awful, stop arguing with your mother. We have talked about this before your body doesn't look right, we're just doing what's best for you. Now go to your room!"

You had hardly left your room in days, only going out to get water and use the bathroom, your appetite was gone and you had no desire to sit downstairs with your parents where they would just your eating.

It didn't help that because of this you hadn't seen your boys for almost a week now, they didn't meet you on the first few nights, knowing you didn't want your parents to see them and ban you from ever going near them again. But at some point even Dwayne had become outwardly stressed about it, sending Marko and Paul to knock at your window.

When they returned back to their friends down at the end of the meadow behind your house they were concerned to hear that you hadn't even moved, even after they gave the secret knock they always did.

They could hear you though, your broken heartbeat and your quiet sobs as you curled up under your bedding, hiding from the world. If you had already changed it would be easier to communicate in ways your parents couldn't hear and you couldn't escape from but until they could find a chance to get to you without your father threatening them they would have to wait.

It was around midday now and you were standing in only your towel, having just gotten out of the shower after your mom informed you that she was taking you shopping for more appropriate clothing before they went away for the weekend.

Letting the towel drop you stared at yourself, tugging on the parts of flesh that just looked wrong to you, pinching them in punishment as you said self-loathing words to yourself in your mind. Your mom often said these things to you, but something about this time had just hurt so much more, you thought now that you were an adult she would at least respect you like one. But things under their roof would always be the same.

She dragged you around a mall she found under an hour's drive away, taking you to stores full of dull basic boring you doubted even your grandparents would wear. Each piece covered as much of you as possible, something no one wanted during the Santa Carla summer head. After almost three hours of clothes shopping, she was now carrying three very full bags back to the car, claiming she would make one last stop at a beauty supply store for things that would soften your skin and make you smell nicer.

Never mind the fact that you moisturised religiously since she told you that you would be at risk of eczema if you didn't. Since then Paul had made a point of rubbing against you like a cat, insisting your skin felt like silk to them.

Your boys always made you feel better, but you couldn't stand letting them see you, not when you were as gross as your mother said.

"Come on hun, I've got a coupon! Good thing your father came to his senses, wouldn't have been able to buy all of these things without him."

Sighing you let her pull you along, not that you could escape the firm grip she had around your wrist as she dragged you through the busy Saturday crowd. You wouldn't tell her how it was slowly bruising your skin, or how much you just wanted to go home, your self-hatred had already chipped away at your resolve. For now, you would just accept whatever shit she and your dad put you through.

As soon as she pulled you into the store titled 'fixer uppers' you let your eyes glaze over, more interested in fading out the noise around you than focusing on what the attendant and your mother had to say.

That same night your boys came up with a plan to get you to spend time with them, by the time the sun went down your parents would be long gone and on their trip out of town for at least two days, your room had blackout curtains so they would be refusing to leave your side no matter what.

As soon as it reached eight PM they were flying out of their cave, climbing onto their bikes, and speeding along the route to your home near the outskirts of Santa Carla. When they arrived they were concerned to see all of the lights off, the front and back doors were both tightly locked and when you didn't respond to their knocking they floated up to your bedroom window and nocked, announcing themselves so you would know who it was.

There was still no answer past your curtains shifting a bit, David began to coo at you through the glass, instructing Marko to pick at the lock on the back door while he kept you distracted.

"Sweet flower come on out...we can't help you if we don't know what's wrong love..."

He glanced down at Marko, Dwayne had now gone to stand beside him, your parents had added a lock onto all of your doors so they were on the verge of pushing the door open by force.

"If you won't come out we'll come in you know that dear, stop hiding from us."

He smiled at you as you pulled the curtain to the side slightly, it fell quickly as he took in your tired face and tear-stained cheeks, he could do no more than put his hand to the glass to comfort you. You nodded up at the latch on your window and it was then he realised your parents had changed the lock on that also, now it would require a key to open, one he assumed you had to access to.

"Oh, little bird..."

He watched as you jumped once Marko and Dwayne had succeeded in getting the door open, closing the curtain, and hiding from his view.

Inside you were rushing to pull on some nicer pajamas, some soft flannel pants, and a cosy sweater as you heard the familiar thumping of your boys coming up the stairs, moving back to lean against the window from your bed.

Dwayne entered first, and in three long strides he reached you on your bed and sat down, holding his arms open in welcome. You didn't hesitate to crawl into them, curling up against his chest as he began to run his fingers through your hair, tugging on the ends softly.

The other three soon entered, David and Marko turning up last after inspecting all of the new locks around the house, including the one on your door that locked from outside.

"Geez doll, what did you do this time?"

Your room had changed too, gone were most of the band posters Paul had given you after showing you his favourite music selections, Marko had ripped open your closet to find your clothing choices looking significantly different.

"Kitten, look at me.." Dwayne tugged your chin so you would meet his eyes, rubbing his thumb over your lip softly, "what happened?"

Your eyes began to tear up, pulling your chin out of his grasp so you could hide your face in his chest as you tried not to sob. You thought after hiding from them for over a week that you would be able to tell them, but they looked at you with such love that you thought they would be mad to see you thinking such hateful things about yourself.

"I- they-"

"Shh little one, calm down, we're not mad at you," Paul was behind you now, rubbing soft circles across your back, the soothing motions were helping you to even out your breathing, "was it your parents? We saw the locks love bug, we know they've done something."

You nodded, nose running along Dwayne's chest as you breathed in his scent, listening as his chest began to rumble in a soft purr.

"Did they say something?" David leaned against the wall across from you, playing with a pen he found on your desk, waiting for you to speak.

"They- I don't know, they were just so mean," your voice sounded so small, like you were scared someone would come through the door and tell you to be quiet. "I just wanted to go out and my dad he-"

You breathed in deeply, remembering how harsh his words were, how cruel your mother was as she agreed with him. God. Your relationship had never been healthy, you had been their perfect little golden child until you got burnt out in high school, now they'd rather pick apart your looks than love you unconditionally.

"I can look for you babe," you lifted your head to meet David's eye, his suggestion of you opening your mind to him had been given before, until now you had refused and claimed it would just give you a headache. Thinking on it you realised it would be easier than telling them, and so with a nod, he began to reach around your mind, it felt like a soft nudge under your skull. Uncomfortable but not unbearable.

The four of them were still, eyes glazed over as David shared your memories with them, after a couple of minutes they came back to you with much darker eyes. Dwayne's grip immediately became tighter and Marko had left the room with a growl, heading to some unknown part of the house.

You began to sob, muttering almost silent 'I'm sorry's as you tried to bury yourself in Dwayne's jacket. The three who were still in the room shushed you, David smoothing his hand over your head repetitively as he listened to Marko enter the attic.

He came back with a box that smelt strongly of you and them, inside was something you swore you would never see again, on the side the word 'donate' was written and within was all of the clothing and now slightly torn up posters your parents had taken from you while you were at school.

"We can take them to the cave bunny, keep 'em safe for you," nodding at him he pushed them to the side, reaching towards you so he could hold you in his arms, "you're perfect babe, you know that right?"

You didn't answer, choosing to push your face into his neck and give him a soft kiss. He carried you downstairs and outside, Paul following behind him with the box in his hands. Dwayne made sure to grab your fleece-lined jacket so you would be warm for the night, handing it to you as you climbed behind Marko, before heading to his own bike. David left last, taking the key he found on top of the fridge and using it to lock the back door before they headed off into the darkness.

They spent the night drowning you in affection, whispering sweet words in your ears and telling you how perfect you were, how you were their sweet angel crafted from starlight. Marko and Dwayne kept playing with your hair, offering to style it to how it was before your mother made you change it. Paul was already pulling out new posters to smother your room in as he showed you a cassette he found that he knew you would like.

And David, well David was planning how to kill your parents and keep you with them for all eternity.

Just like all sweet boyfriends do.

#tlb #the lost boys imagines #the lost boys #the lost boys x reader #the lost boys fic #marko the lost boys #dwayne tlb #lost boys x oc #poly lost boys x reader #marko tlb

214 notes · View notes

horrorhot-line · 4 years

Text

kilig

(n). butterflies in one’s stomach

➵ pairing: saiki kusuo/reader

➵ word count: 6.2k

➵ genre: angst in the beginning, followed by fluff

➵ warnings: none

➵ summary: you decide to avoid saiki so you can try to get over him, and for the most part, you’re successful. that’s until saiki demands you hide him from his classmates. the two of you end up in a storage closet, where he confronts you about your recent behaviour towards him.

➵ masterlist (requests are open)

➵ previous part - eunoia

I DO NOT CONSENT TO MY WORK BEING POSTED BY ANYONE ELSE ON ANY PLATFORM

before you read: ‘saiki telepathically communicating with reader’ ‘reader thinking or interacting with saiki through thoughts.’ “saiki talking without moving his mouth.” “saiki talking using his mouth.”

notes: this lovely request was from @eighteenpennies. credit goes to them for the idea behind this imagine. this is based much later than the first oneshot, in the timeline, if that makes sense. hope you enjoy!

➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵

The weather reflected your current mood perfectly. It was drizzling outside, the soft patter of rain against the window that overlooked the school grounds, provided you with comfort.

The school day had ended and the students were leaving, all the while you stayed behind to finish up on your cleaning duties. Sorrow emanated from you in waves so strong it was almost tangible. You had been down in the dumps this entire week.

Today had proved to be more challenging than the last, and the sadness that seemed to cling to you had grown exponentially in size. You had yourself to blame for it. You and your stupid crush. Stupid brain. Stupid heart.

It had all started when you finally admitted to yourself that you were hopelessly in love with Saiki Kusuo. Denial didn’t suit you, it was time you acknowledged the gravity of your feelings for him. Though, accepting the truth meant you were in serious trouble. The object of your affection had an apparent dislike for romance.

This could all be traced back to Chiyo Yumehara. It was all because she refused to take no for an answer. She had pestered you about who you were crushing on this year, and didn’t believe you when you told her you didn’t like anyone. That was what started your downward spiral into confusion, frustration and anger over your desires.

Chiyo had forced you to tag along with her, Kokomi Teruhashi and Chisato Mera to a cafe after the school day had ended. You had agreed, albeit reluctantly, to join the three of them in hanging out. You didn’t have it in you to refuse after she insisted you come, since had become good friends with the three of them over the months.

Chiyo would seek you out when she needed advice on relationships after she learned how good you were at dishing out guidance despite having little to no experience. Even though she had bad luck when it came to love, you had learnt that her heart was in the right place— most of the time. You couldn’t ignore her because you felt bad for her.

Kokomi would be on the lookout for you when she needed to find out information on Saiki, which you would refuse to provide, telling her it would be better if she discovered details about him on her own. She would still hang out with you during the school day, mostly because of how close you were to her crush. You had realised that avoiding her was futile.

The only reason you didn’t dislike her was because she showed maturity and development as the school year passed by. She might have been pretentious, but she did put a lot of effort into keeping up her image. You admired her determination. So, you tolerated her.

You naturally liked Chisato because she was hard working. After finding out that she took up multiple jobs to support her family, you made sure to treat her to food every week. The three of them would often ask you to spend time with them outside of school, and so you got closer to them, gradually. Thus why you couldn’t say no to them when they asked you to hang out.

“So, Y/n, is there someone you like?” You turned your attention from your steaming cup of latte to Chiyo, who had asked you the question. What more did you expect from a hopeless romantic like her? A girl in love with love itself? Of course she had invited you out, just so she could find out if you had a crush.

She had tried to ask you this same question on multiple occasions, all for you to brush her off with simple answers.

Chiyo leaned forward, placing her elbows on the table as she tried to decipher your blank expression.

“Nope.” You went back to sipping on your latte, relishing in the warmth that began to spread throughout your body with each gulp. It was a lie, but Chiyo didn’t need to know that. It would do more harm than good if you admitted to her that you had a crush on Saiki.

Not to mention, Kokomi was present. Personally, you would rather not be involved in a love triangle between her and Saiki, so you refused to let on that you had feelings for the same person. “No way! There has to be someone!” Clearly, Chiyo wasn’t satisfied with your answer, and it looked as though she wouldn’t drop the subject anytime soon.

‘She sure is persistent. More so than normal.’ You looked to Kokomi for help, only to notice her gazing at you with the same interest that could be found in Chiyo’s eyes. ‘Not you too…'

Great, both of them were equally determined to find out. Kokomi was most likely curious to know if the person you were crushing on was Saiki since the two of you must seem close, to her. You were his best friend after all. Which you did, you admit it, you liked him— but that didn’t mean you would tell them.

This was because you had made a promise to yourself, once you realised you had a thing for Saiki, that you would never act on your feelings. You were fine with just being a friend. Even if it hurt, you would never in a million years risk your relationship with Saiki.

You tried to think of a possible way out of the interrogation you were currently being subjected to. You couldn’t ask Chisato to rescue you from this conversation because she was scarfing down the dessert on the table. Even if you called out to her, she wouldn’t be able to hear you.

You sighed, placing your cup down as you tried to think of the best way to get out of this situation. “So, do you? Have someone you’re interested in? You do, don’t you? Don’t worry, you can tell me.” Chiyo continued, showing no signs of backing down until she got the response she wanted.

You decided you would bluff. A small fib would make no difference. You would lie about who it was, simple. “Fine, I give up. You caught me.” Chiyo perked up at your reply to her relentless questioning. “So? Who is it? Saiki?” Kokomi tensed up, at the edge of her seat now, as she waited with bated breath for your response.

You raised an eyebrow at Chiyo’s guess, which was right on the money. You hadn’t expected her to be so blunt. ‘She doesn’t beat around the bush, does she?’ You were glad you were able to mask your emotions effortlessly, it made lying easy. “No.” You watched as Kokomi visibly relaxed, as if a weight had been lifted off her shoulders.

“So, who is it?” Now, Kokomi was intrigued, going as far as joining in on the questioning. If you didn’t have a crush on Saiki, then who could you possibly like? “Kuboyasu? You guys are friendly. Oh! Is it Toritsuka? You two do seem close…” You shook your head softly at Chiyo, indicating that she was wrong. Those two were far from your type.

“He’s from a different school, and before you ask, no, I won’t tell you his name.” Chiyo was practically bouncing in her seat, excited to ask you more about your love life. She wanted to know if you had made a move, if he knew about your feelings, if you wanted to date him— the entire spiel. You continued to answer to the best of your abilities.

The questions didn’t stop for a while. You had finished your latte and ordered another.

“…So, no, I don’t think I can date him, because he’s… unattainable? Yeah, that’s the word… I feel like I should just admire from afar, you know? I want him to be happy, and I doubt it would be with me. It’s a simple crush, it’ll go away with time.” You shrugged, not thinking much of your explanation. That should have been enough to satisfy her.

“Sounds like you’re in love if you ask me.” Chiyo had said it absent-mindedly, and she honestly didn’t mean any harm by it. For you, though, it felt as if someone had pulled the rug out from under your feet.

“Oh,” You couldn’t even form a proper reply despite your extensive vocabulary. Stuck trying to work through your thoughts, you remained quiet as Chiyo moved on to asking Kokomi if she had made any progress with Saiki. All the while, your mind was spiralling.

You zoned out, ignoring how Kokomi talked about her advances with Saiki. Usually, you would have listened with the utmost concentration, but more pressing matters needed to be addressed. You had decided that you needed silence to make sense of your thoughts.

You had left early, using the excuse of homework to ditch the girls. The entire walk home, you were deep in thought.

In love? That- no, that couldn’t possibly be it. It was a crush. Just simple and childish attraction that would go away as soon as you found someone else to focus your attention on.

Right?

➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵

The conversation about crushes with Chiyo had been easy to ignore for the most part, after careful consideration in the safety of your room. Silence had helped calm you, and you were able to think clearly. You still didn’t understand why her words had affected you so.

You had pondered over the idea of you being in love with Saiki but ultimately dismissed it as impossible. You refused to believe that you had fallen for your closest friend. However, as the days passed by, it got harder to ignore.

You had started to realise that you missed Saiki as soon as he wasn’t around. After school, when you left the classroom to get snacks, when you dropped off papers to the staff room. Every time you weren’t near him, a dull ache would settle in the pit of your stomach and would grow until you saw him again.

You had noticed how you would unconsciously scribble his name on your notes when you became distracted in class. You would erase it at lightning speed when you realised what you were doing, embarrassment bubbling inside you. You took note of how your mind would always wander to thoughts of Saiki and how often you would daydream of him. (He lived in your mind, 24/7, rent free.)

You had realised that his eyes were a specific shade of purple, a beautiful hue that would always leave you captivated. You had looked up the colour wheel one day when you had been procrastinating, realising that they were closest to Byzantine.

You picked up on the fact that any time you laughed, your eyes would immediately seek out Saiki. How you would look for him every time you entered your classroom. How, despite you being a master at controlling your expressions, he could read you like an open book. (Curse his psychic powers.) How that fact alone made your heart race a thousand miles per hour.

How, over the smallest of touches, your heart would threaten to leap out of your chest. (Just the other week at the school library during a study session, Saiki’s leg had touched yours when you sat down next to him. His warmth transferred onto you, and for the rest of the hour with him, you could only focus on the fact that he hadn’t moved away from you yet.)

How you had to reign in your urges regularly so that you wouldn’t cross any boundaries, despite aching to reach out and touch him when he was so close to you. How his voice sent shivers down your spine every time you heard it, the sound second to none.

How every time you were out grocery shopping, you would find yourself in the coffee jelly section, subsequently blowing off your allowance just to buy him heaps of the dessert. How, when he made eye contact with you, your throat would immediately go dry. How with a simple look that he sent your way, he could make you feel fuzzy all over.

How Saiki’s small smiles would make you feel like you were on cloud nine, and how you would make sure to burn the image into your memory so that you would never forget. How you would readily sacrifice your own happiness for his if the situation ever called for it. How the day seemed to pass by quickly when you were around him and how you wished you could stop time because you wanted to stay in his presence a little while longer.

These little things that seemed small individually but so much more when you added them together, only made you realise how fucked you were. It finally made sense, as if all the puzzle pieces had started to fit together. It had hit you then, how serious of a predicament you were in.

'I’m in love with Saiki Kusuo.’

➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵

After careful re-evaluation of your relationship with Saiki, you came to the realisation that you weren’t satisfied with just being friends. That was bad. Really, really, bad. You could risk losing him if you ever thought of making a move on him, and that’s the last thing you wanted.

That’s how you came up with the decision of getting over your feelings. No matter how much you loved the butterflies in your stomach, you would get rid of them without a second thought. You valued your friendship with him, and you didn’t want to make things awkward between the two of you. So, you would work on it, work on falling out of love with him.

Even if you weren’t successful, putting space between the two of you could help dilute your feelings. You hoped.

The entire week you had dodged Saiki as well as your friend group. Anytime they asked you to hang out after school or join them in the cafeteria, you would refuse and then disappear. You spent most of your time trying to take your mind off of things by reading books at the school library. It didn’t work, not really.

The ache you felt when you looked at Saiki throughout the week seemed to grow. You wondered if it would become more manageable as time passed by. You missed cracking jokes for him, admiring his features, talking to him.

Despite the overwhelming desire to go back to him, you powered through and continued to avoid him, determined to see your plan through. You had convinced yourself it was for the best, that Saiki would have one less admirer to worry about. It didn’t make it any easier, though.

The days seemed to slow down and if felt like Friday took forever to come around.

At the end of the school day, you were required to stay behind to complete your cleaning duties. You and Takahashi had been tasked with cleaning the first-floor hallway outside your classroom, but he had bailed on you.

Gym teacher Masuzaki was furious when he found out that Takahashi had left without cleaning up. Mr. Matsuzaki had instructed you to clean up the hallway by yourself, announcing that he would set out to find him before leaving.

That’s how you found yourself wallowing in sorrow with a broom in your hands. You swept the floor as you hummed, trying to distract yourself by cleaning. You failed to think of anything else, but Saiki, though. Most of the students had already left to go home, so the hallway was empty. That made your job less taxing.

'Chiyo, I blame you for this. If I hadn’t gone to that cafe with you, I wouldn’t be suffering right now. Ignorance really is bliss. How am I supposed to get over Saiki now that I know I’m in love with him?’ You shook your head at your thoughts, trying to focus on cleaning. You did your best to ignore the lump in your throat.

What made your week worse was Kokomi. You know, you know, that all is fair in love and war, so you couldn’t hold it against her for pursuing Saiki relentlessly, but it still hurt. She would chase after him with no care, determined to win him over. Sometimes you wished you could be like her in that sense. The girl had no fear when it came to rejection and she was sneaky when trying to find ways to get closer to Saiki. You wondered if she would be his first choice if Saiki ever did get into a relationship. Most likely.

‘Why am I so intent on hurting my own feelings?’ You rubbed the bridge of your nose, closing your eyes in annoyance and frustration.

It had started raining just before you had started cleaning, and the earthy smell that came with the weather provided you with a moment’s peace. You sighed when your arms began to hurt, deciding to take a short break. You propped up the broom against the storage closet before you walked over to the window that overlooked the school grounds.

You watched the students of PK Academy leaving, umbrellas over their heads to protect themselves from the rain. You leaned your head against the cold glass, exhaling audibly through your nose. You crossed your arms over your chest as you closed your eyes.

They snapped open not too long after that, at the sound of hurried footsteps. You turned around to try and find the source, expecting it to be Matsuzaki coming back with Takahashi, only to realise that it was the one person you were trying to dodge. 'Fuck,’ You swore to yourself as you remained frozen in place.

If you made a run for it, he wouldn’t chase you, right? Right? You needed to get out of here, cleaning duties be damned. You were not ready to deal with Saiki right now. Though, taking into account that he was only a few metres away from you, maybe turning tail and fleeing wasn’t an option.

“Wha— why are you here?!”

“I need you to hide me.”

“Huh?”

“I don’t want to deal with everyone trying to convince me to hang out today. Help me.” You blinked at him, trying to process what he told you. Of all the times he could have sought you out, he decided to do it now? When you were actively trying to avoid him? You sighed internally, knowing damn well you couldn’t refuse him because he was asking for your assistance.

“Ah… uh— okay—” You frantically looked around the hallway for a place to hide Saiki. You would have run in the other direction because you were supposed to be keeping away from him, but he needed help. Your concern for him overpowered your need for space.

The classroom closest to you wouldn’t be a good choice since anyone could walk in and see him. He could hang from the window, but chances were he’d be spotted by students who were leaving the grounds, and things would become complicated.

That’s when your eyes landed on the storage closet to your left, the one full of cleaning supplies. It’d be cramped and uncomfortable, but it would have to do. “There— in the closet, you go.” You opened the door for Saiki, gesturing for him to get inside. He nodded briskly, walking closer to you.

Suddenly, Saiki grabbed you by the arm, catching you off guard. You didn’t even get a chance to protest as he pulled you into the closet with him, shutting the door behind you. You would have left as soon as your mind registered that you were in a confined space with Saiki of all people, but you heard someone outside in the hallway.

You couldn’t leave now, you’d risk exposing Saiki to whoever he was trying to steer clear of. You huffed in annoyance. Why had he dragged you in here? It would have been fine if you were outside. No, it would have been better, because then you’d be able to tell anyone that came looking for him, that he wasn’t here. It decreased the odds of someone discovering him.

'You’ve been avoiding me.’ You glared up at Saiki. He had pulled you into the storage locker without your permission, for no good reason. This was supposed to be his hiding spot, alone. It took little time for your eyes to adjust to the dark.

You could see fairly well inside the storage closet, the light travelling in through the opening on the door, reflected off of Saiki’s glasses. You were uncomfortable in the position you were in. You stood with your back to the door, your hand placed on the wall in front of you, above Saiki’s shoulder, so that you wouldn’t end up leaning on him.

You know the pose where the boy in the anime corners the girl and puts a hand on the wall so she can’t leave? You were doing that to Saiki. At least the roles were reversed. If Saiki did this pose with you, you would simply pass away.

You were hyper-aware of how close he was to you, your body tense as you tried to will yourself to not overreact. You opted to focus on your breathing, making sure it wasn’t too loud.

The closet was already small, to begin with, and could barely fit one person, let alone two. There was hardly any space separating the two of you. 'Why’d you have to pull me in here with you?’ There was a moment of silence before Saiki replied. 'So you wouldn’t be able to avoid me.’

Your expression turned to one of incredulous as you raised your eyebrows in disbelief. Did he drag you in here just to talk? Now was neither the time nor place!

You attention shifted to the voices you could hear outside- wait was that Takahashi? You thought he had already left since he ditched cleaning duties, but from the looks of it, he was on the hunt to find Saiki too. Kokomi must have put him up to it.

“Y/n,” Saiki called out your name to snap you out of your thoughts. You felt a shiver go down your spine when he spoke, his voice hushed as to not alert anyone outside. ‘H— hm?’

'You’ve been avoiding me.’ Saiki repeated himself. You felt his breath fan your skin, the sensation causing you to ball your fists as butterflies erupted in your stomach. It seemed as though god liked to test you every day.

Control yourself, Y/n, don’t jump him. This situation was doing nothing to calm your nerves. 'No, I haven’t,’ You replied curtly. You had to get out of here, or else you were sure you’d pass out. This was not good for your heart.

'You have.’ Saiki said simply, his piercing gaze sent your mind reeling. You looked away, unable to maintain eye contact. Was it you or was it getting unbearably warm in here? 'Have not.’ You scrunched your nose, your line of sight focused on the mop in the corner, a few inches away from your face.

'Quit it, Y/n. I’m serious.’ Your eyes snapped up to look at Saiki again. He shot you a glare, his expression serious, and you shrunk in place. He leaned in when you looked away again, knowing full well you’d give in if he did so. You placed your hands on his chest to stop him from getting closer. 'Okay, fine! I’ve been avoiding you this entire week! Happy?!’ You screwed your eyes shut as you sighed in defeat.

’…I know you’re in love with me.’ Your eyes opened, widening as you looked at Saiki to try and see if he was serious. He was. You felt as if you’d been doused in cold water, fear taking control of you. You opened your mouth and then closed it, having been rendered speechless. You gulped, trying to swallow the lump in your throat that kept growing. 'No, I'm—’ You tried denying it, but he cut you off.

'I’ve known about it since the beginning.’ That left you at a loss for words. You furrowed your eyebrows, your expression one of hopelessness. Your lips parted though you didn’t speak. 'But you— you never said anything… why didn’t you— what—’ Why hadn’t he brought it up before, if he knew?

You felt yourself break out into a cold sweat, your eyes trying to find something else to look at so you wouldn’t end up crying. 'You never said anything…’ You said defeatedly, your shoulders slumping. He was going to reject you, you were sure of it. You didn’t even get a chance to prepare yourself for this, mentally.

Saiki turned his head to the side as if he were distracted by something. If you weren’t so busy freaking out, you would have heard Kaidou’s voice retreating outside. 'You knew—’

'I knew. I didn’t want to pry, so I figured I would wait until you came to me. Until you confessed.’ You squeezed your eyes shut, lowering your head as you clenched your jaw. This was the worst.

'Why did you pull me in here if you decided you were gonna wait?’ His gaze met yours as he tilted his head down to look at you again. He looked as though he was studying you. 'Because the situation was getting out of hand.’

You bit your lip, willing yourself to say something. Your heart hurt, and you felt like your stomach had dropped down to your feet. ’…My feelings probably make you uncomfortable, so, I’m working on it right now, okay? I need space so I can get over you. So we can go back to being friends. Sorry.’ You felt like bawling.

'I don’t want that.’ You had nearly choked on your spit. You swore you had stopped breathing.

’…What?’

You were met with deafening silence. You were sure your brain had short-circuited. What the hell was going on? You expected him to reject you, so why was this conversation going a completely different way?

You wanted to bang your head against a wall. This was all too much for you. Saiki’s words gave you hope, something you didn’t want because there was no way your feelings would be reciprocated—

’… I’m… I’ve never been good at feelings. What I mean is that I'm— I don’t know how to say this the right way. I’ll be blunt. I need time. To figure out what I want, how I feel… So will you give me time?’ You blinked, once, then again. Was this real, or were you dreaming?

'What- so is that a yes or no? Are you rejecting me, or are you telling me we could have something?’ You were having trouble keeping up, still feeling as if this whole situation was surreal. You unconsciously held your breath as you waited for Saiki’s reply. ’… It’s not a no.’

'Don’t joke with me Kusuo.’ Try as you might, you couldn’t wrap your head around the fact that Saiki may return your feelings in the future. You were 85% sure he’s messing with you. You had never banked on the possibility that your love may not be one-sided and unrequited. 'I’m not.’

'So— so, what you’re telling me is— wait, are you sure? You’re serious? This isn’t some kind of prank, right?’ You were still in denial over this being reality. Saiki rolled his eyes at you, 'I told you I wasn’t joking.’

'Sorry… I just— wow. I just can’t believe it. I didn’t even think in my wildest dreams—’

'I know. You’re an open book, Y/n.’ You bit your lip to stop yourself from grinning like an idiot. You tilted your head to the side to lean it against the closet’s wall. ’…Yeah.’ You didn’t know what else to say, your heart was threatening to beat out of your chest, and you felt all fuzzy on the inside. You wanted to scream, that’s how happy you are.

'So, do you agree? Will you give me time?’

'Huh? Yes— Yeah, of course. I’m just— Ah, I’m so happy I could cry.’ You felt tears prick the back of your eyes. You wanted to kneel down and scream into your hands. Your heart wouldn’t listen to you when you tried to will it to calm down.

'You’re making a weird face.’ You scoffed at Saiki, playfully glaring at him. 'Oh, shush…’ There was a pause as you took in a big breath. 'I… I’m yours. I’m all yours, Kusuo. I’ll wait as long as you need me to.’

’…Okay.’ Saiki’s voice came out strained, and you found yourself wondering why. He turned his head to the side, staring at the wall. You tilted your head in confusion, was it something you said? Your eyes widened as you arrived at a realisation, he was flustered. He had to be.

You’d known him long enough to be able to tell, despite him showing little to no emotion on his face most of the time. You wanted to hold him, you concluded, you wanted to pull him close and never let go.

You repeated the mantra, 'boundaries, boundaries, boundaries,’ in your mind so that you didn’t accidentally do something that made him uncomfortable. You swallowed, your lips parting as you wondered if it would be too much to ask for. ’…Can I uh— Can I hug you?’ You questioned, half expecting him to reject your request.

'Good grief …Do what you want.’ You couldn’t control the grin that spread across your face, making the corners of your eyes crinkle. As Saiki turned his head to looked down at you, you raised your arms to wrap them around his neck and pull him close.

You were careful not to knock over any of the brooms as you pulled him in for a hug. You had to stand on the tips of your toes to be able to hug him properly. You felt like bawling your eyes out, the butterflies in your stomach had yet to calm down. It felt as though this was what you had been waiting for your entire life. Every choice, every chance encounter, every decision had led you up to this moment. You were sure you’d never been this happy before. You closed your eyes, content.

You assumed Saiki wouldn’t return the hug and would just stand there awkwardly, waiting for you to let go. Which is what he did at first, but then you were pleasantly surprised when he placed his arms around you lightly. You’d never felt so fulfilled in your life. If you weren’t sure before, you were now— this boy owned your heart.

You tightened your hold on him, relishing in the warmth he provided. You wondered if he could feel your heart against his chest, beating so fast you were concerned there was something seriously wrong with you. He could.

You couldn’t see it, but he had a small smile on his face.

➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵

Bonus: minutes before Saiki ran into you.

Saiki had caught on, the second you had entered the classroom the first day back that week, that something was off. You hadn’t walked up to his desk to say good morning, a routine ritual you made sure to do every morning, just so you could ‘annoy’ him.

He wondered if something was troubling you, only to be surprised that you had been thinking deeply about your feelings. 'How am I supposed to act normal around him now? Stupid hormones. Curse you, stupid heart.’

Saiki raised an eyebrow to himself at your thoughts. You seemed sad, for reasons unknown to him.

'Gotta avoid Saiki. No matter what.’

Saiki blinked. So this was about him? Had he done something? He leaned his chin on the palm of his hand, sat at his desk as the teacher continued with the lesson. You hadn’t been upset the last time he saw you, so what had happened for you to act like this?

Saiki snuck a gaze at you through his peripherals. He decided he wouldn’t pry, not until he figured out why you were avoiding him. That, or he would patiently wait until you came to him of your own volition. He hoped you would reach out to him first, he didn’t want to resort to using his powers to find the root of the problem.

The entire week, you expertly avoided Saiki, as well as his friends, coming up with excuses anytime they asked you to hang out. Saiki would never admit it to a living soul, but he missed you more than the coffee jelly you would get him. The feeling foreign to him because he loved the treat more than anything. Maybe he missed you solely because you always handed him one every time you saw him. Yeah, it was definitely only because of the coffee jelly.

Saiki figured he’d wait it out. If by the start of next week, your behaviour stayed the same, he’d step in. For now, he’d leave things as is, even if he desperately missed you the coffee jelly.

(take a second to let this sink in: saiki is pavlov’s dog. if saiki ever started liking someone, it would be because they gave him coffee jelly.)

Friday rolled by, and Saiki was determined to get home in time to watch the new TV show that was airing that day. If he got home too late, he’d overhear spoilers for the show from the street. He couldn’t let that happen.

He had to avoid his classmates, who were trying to seek him out for different reasons. Nendou, who wanted to ask him to get ramen. Hairo, who was convinced he needed to thank Saiki for his help by inviting him to a day at the gym. Kaidou, who wanted to invite him over to his house again. Lastly, there was Teruhashi, who wanted to go for tea to a nearby cafe.

Saiki felt like he was getting Deja Vu. 'This happened last time, too. Now, I know to avoid Toritsuka if I use my invisibility.’

Currently, Saiki was waiting in a toilet stall, for Hairo to pass the hallway and go search for him elsewhere. He carefully tried devising a plan to leave the school grounds so he could make it home in time for the show to air. That was until he heard your thoughts flood into his mind.

There was silence as Saiki digested the information he just received. Finally, he had figured it out. You had been avoiding him this week, all because of that? He wordlessly listened to your thoughts as he leaned against the door to the toilet stall, his arms folded across his chest.

He knew you had a crush on him, he had known since the beginning. What did you take him for? He did have telepathy after all, so of course, he could detect your feelings. When he realised you had started to like him, he had expected you to pursue him shamelessly like Yumehara or Teruhashi did, but you had kept your feelings to yourself.

Nothing about your behaviour towards him had changed, despite knowing full well that your feelings continued to grow day by day. Tapping into your thoughts and paying close attention to them, he had found out that you had promised yourself something. That you would never act on your feelings because you respected his boundaries. Saiki had nearly let out an 'Oh, wow!’ at the discovery.

Saiki was used to being selfless to a fault, but he had never experienced the same behaviour directed at him. Love was in the air all year round at PK Academy, and never once had he seen someone refuse to act on their feelings like you did.

Some would be afraid of rejection, some would rather stalk, but he had yet to encounter someone who would hold back solely because they valued friendship more, until you. You were different, and it relieved Saiki greatly, that he wouldn’t have to worry about another troublesome admirer.

It took a while for Saiki to realise that he didn’t mind your feelings, even if one day you decided to act on them. Sometimes, he had trouble understanding his own emotions. He didn’t really get the concept of love and romance, but he realised he at least wanted to try to, when it came to you. Especially now that he knew you were without a doubt in love with him.

You had been dodging him this entire week because you thought he’d be uncomfortable? Made it your mission to get over him? He couldn’t have that.

'This is getting ridiculous. What a pain… Guess I’ll have to do something.’

With that, he left the boy’s toilets to go find you. Today you had clean up duties. This was perfect. He’d ask you to hide him from his classmates, and he’d confront you as well. Saiki would kill two birds with one stone.

➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵

next part - fika

3K notes · View notes

eclecticqueer · 3 years

Text

⭐Pick A Pile⭐

Pick the pile/ crystal you're most drawn to. these have zodiacal correspondences that may align with your Sun/Moon/Rising/Mercury/Venus/Mars

Pile 1: Garnet

Deeply spiritual stone that can awaken creative energies

Protects against negativity and balances yin/yang, gives courage, compassion

Represents deep, safe love

Associated w/ Root, Sacral and Solar chakras, Capricorn, Aries, Mars

Pile 2: Peacock Ore

“Stone of Happiness,” assists channeling happiness, joy, upliftment, abundance, beauty

Balances the physical and spiritual realms

Associated w/ aligning all chakras, Sagittarius

Pile 3: Sunstone

Boosts personal life-force and expression of self.

Encourages independence and balanced relationships, transforms negative energies into creative expression

Associated w/ Root + Sacral chakras, Leo, Libra

🌠PILE 1🌠

Oracle Card: Light

Fire/ Sun - Masculinity, ego, action, intellect, movement, leadership, boundaries

Current self/ you as of now: Queen of Wands

This is a Court Card and may represent the self or another, this person is currently in a place of identifying their strengths/ weaknesses and finding peace within them both. In the image, a black cat sits at the Queen's feet, representing our dark parts. This cat is small, suggesting our fears are never as bad as they seem

Current obstacles/ challenges: Six of Swords

The Swords suit is representative of our mental states and how we use our communication to assert our individuality. The number 6 corresponds with growth and progress, the individual's current challenge is a mental shift. This shift is typically a result of a regretful or hurtful experience that triggered and forced the growth

Shadow aspect: Lovers

The Lovers is also the 6th Major card, keeping with the theme of growth/ progress. This card's image shows the coming together of many opposing themes, most notably masculine/ feminine. This symbolizes the love and balance needed within us to make the hard decisions that ultimately prove to be for the better. These hard decisions likely refer to negative/ toxic relationships we have within ourselves, that then manifest into our physical realm. It takes self-love and acceptance to identify and balance these relationships in our inner worlds, further balancing the relationships in our outer worlds

Identifying/ integrating shadow: Four of Cups

The Cups suit is representative of our emotional state and how we go about identifying/ expressing our inner most world, the number 4 represents stability/ support. In the effort to identify the shadow the individual needs to take on a state of contemplation/ meditation. They maybe faced with different experiences/ opportunities but they're not sure if these will serve. Take the time needed to take stock of your inner energies and assess if now is a good time to take on something new

Advice/ release: Ace of Swords

As we saw in the challenge of the 6 of Swords the Swords suit refers to how we go about asserting our individual self (QW). The Ace is the pure embodiment of the Swords energy and brings themes of clarity and beginnings. Manifesting the Swords energies ultimately result in healing and renewal for the individual, this is done by identifying our truth and values and actively protecting/ communicating them (Lovers/QW)) This then builds boundaries and our sense of self in our inner and outer worlds. In our effort in asserting ourselves, we must first look inward and find what we truly believe in/ what will truly serve us (4C)

👽PILE 2👽

Oracle Card: Alien

Air/ Uranus- Self-expression, unconventional, innovation, individuality, preservation

Current self/ you as of now: Nine of Cups

The Cups suit represents our emotional/ inner world and how we express that, the number 9 is for fruition/ prosperity. This card's image shows a man sitting proudly with his Cups, a symbol for emotional satisfaction and flow. As of now, the individual maybe searching for contentment with their emotional self/ expression. This could be the result of a cathartic release, conversation or personal awakening. there is something affecting the person's emotional state at which they are working hard to identify/ integrate/ release

Current obstacles/ challenges: Ace of Wands

The Wands suit is that of Fire and Ego, representing the way we go about asserting our wants and boundaries in life/ relationships. The Ace is pure wand energy and symbolizes a beginning spark within the self to express and explore. The challenge facing the individual could be taking action in their everyday to assert themselves in this world. This could be through art, spirituality, work, service, love, etc. They may feel lost or desperately searching/ wanting to express their deepest desires

Shadow aspect: Eight of Cups

This card correlates directly to the current state of the individual of the 9 of Cups the number 8 represents change/ transition. The image of this card shows a figure walking away from a set of cups, there is an empty space between the cups, suggesting the figure has taken one with them. This is metaphorical of an emotional shift, something that was triggered by a disappointing situation, now all is left to do is pick up the pieces and walk away. In identifying their shadow aspect of the 8 of Cups, the individual should take emotional stock and determine what is and is no longer serving or giving back

Identifying/ integrating shadow: Two of Swords

The Sword suit is representative of our mental states and how we use our communication to assert our individuality, the number 2 represents duality/ integration. The image shows a person crossing 2 Swords over their heart, the crescent Moon hangs over the body of water behind the figure. The crossing of the arms represents protection of self and our emotions, the Moon and water represents the intuitive/ feminine balance or flow needed along with the masculine Swords to come up to a conclusion, then ending the stalemate and allowing us to loosen our guard. This can result in acceptance, realizations, and ultimately forgiveness

Advice/ release: Queen of Cups

This is a Court Card and can represent either you or another individual, the water is representative of our deepest and darkest parts (2S), our inner world that maybe a mystery to others(8C). The Queen asks us to look upon our emotional self and nurture it with patience and compassion, this resulting the ability to look upon our emotional state and react with strength and authority (AW) I attribute this to the resilient body of a female to hold a fetus full term and give birth, and the sensitive and empathetic feminine energies needed to raise and nurture the child into a well rounded adult (9C). The idea here is to look upon our raw emotions like a child in distress, and be the patient authority needed to heal/ help the child

🧿PILE 3🧿

Oracle Card: Eyes

Water/ Moon- Subconscious, Shadow, inner world, Spirituality, Fear, Anxiety, Duality

Current self/ you as of now: Seven of Cups

The Cups suit represents our emotional/ inner world and how we express that, the number 7 represents faith/ perseverance. The image of this card shows A figure in front of a grey cloud containing cups filled with various objects/ opportunities, this symbolizes our dreams/ wishes, and the emotional fog that comes with wishful thinking. The individual in their current self maybe dealing with much confusion and working to cut away the fog in pursuit to find clarity

Current obstacles/ challenges: World

This is the last Major card and is the number 21, in numerology 21 would revert to the number 3, which represents communication/ flow. The image of this card shows the four Fixed signs (Taurus, Leo, Scorpio, Aquarius) these represent which cannot be controlled, like space and time. There is a wreath with a naked female draped in a purple shawl, she hold 2 wands. The nakedness is vulnerability to time and space, purple is our divine mind and intuition, the 2 wands represent duality and balance

The obstacle that these individuals are currently facing is connected to their lack/ want of control, control of things that are beyond us (Fixed signs) and the understanding what is/ isn't worth our energy. Identifying this and actively practicing it takes inner balance and vulnerability/ acceptance of what the universe brings

Shadow aspect: Two of Cups

This card is directly correlated with the 7 of Cups, the number 2 being that of duality/ integration. In circumstances of illusion, confusion, and wishful thinking (7 Cups) these feelings are likely a result of a personal relationship. There is a great need/ want for emotionally fulfilling relationships and mutual love The individual may compromise their comfort and needs for that of the other, one may attempt to control the outcome of the relationship, or not be able to accept the outcome

Identifying/ integrating shadow: Magician

This is a Major card of the number 1, representing beginnings/ potential, as well as singularity. In identifying the shadow aspects of the 2 of Cups, we must first develop our personal resources and balance. This is done with dedication and focus, resulting in the manifestation of healthy and fulfilling relationships, in ourselves and in our physical realms

Advice/ release: Queen of Pentacles

This is a Court Card and may represent either you or another with an Earth dominance. This is a feminine and mature expression of Earth energies, the Queen is a master at manifestation because she is aware of where/ how her energies are expressed (Magician). The advice of the Queen is to find what we truly find worth in, and nurture that with the dedication of a mother to her child (World). This includes setting boundaries with that which does not serve, the Queen does not allow toxicity inter her garden. The Queen is perceptive and has the ability to cut through the emotional fog (7C) resulting in an equal love flowing both inward and outward (2C)

🔴🟠🟡🟢🔵🟣

Thank you for reading, I hope this was fun and helpful

#tarot #tarot spread #tarot cards #pick a deck #pick a card #divination #spirituality #tarot interpretation #tarotspread #tarotcards

161 notes · View notes

arknights-imagines · 3 years

Note

waahh hi i love ur writing!! can i request an affectionate doctor having a sweet kissing session with executor + silverash? i just wanna give them a lot of affection and make them feel always loved 😭

Anon hiya!! 🥳 Tysm for this request sgsugshs it's so cute and I love it!! 😭🥺 Executor and SilverAsh are some of my favourites to write for sgsugshs 💕 I tried to make it as soft and lovey-dovey as I could so I hope you and everyone else likes it 👉👈

Also, because Executor's Birthday was July 7th I gave him some extra love in his part svshsv!! 🎂🥳 He deserves a break lolol 🥺 so Happy (late) Birthday Executor and happy reading to everyone!! 🥺🥳

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

Kissing sessions with Executor and SilverAsh

Imagine format; mixed perspectives! (written in second person)

Contains: SilverAsh, Executor, gender neutral Doctor as the reader, brief mentions of background characters, established relationships, kissing described in detail, lots of soft fluffiness 🥺, barely suggestive material in SilverAsh's part?? 🤔, Executor being hesitant and unsure in his part, reader/Doctor being very soft in both parts svjsgshs

Word count: 2.7k in total!

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

SILVERASH

“My dear...you’re still working?”

SilverAsh’s eyes had just read the last sentence of the novel in his hand, and now they looked at you with surprise. He had expected you to have lied down in your small bed with him by the time he closed his book - but as it turned out, you were still sat at your desk nearby and going through papers.

The Feline’s voice interrupting your work caused you to blink slowly, and then you turned your attention towards him, expression meek. “You’re awake? I thought you went to sleep…” “And I thought you would be away from your desk by now.” His reply came with a lift of the brow. SilverAsh set his book beside him before propping himself up on his forearm as you sighed, “I’m almost done, I’ll come to bed soon.”

Unconvinced, the Guard Operator stood from the bed, his height allowing him to make his way towards your desk in just a few strides. You had already picked your pen back up and returned to your papers by the time he set his hands on your shoulders - his touch gentle, but firm.

Before you could shoo him away, SilverAsh lowered his lips to your ear - his snow-coloured hair tickled your cheek and his breath was warm as he spoke in a low, smooth tone that met your ears like melted chocolate, “I must say, my dear…” He met your gaze from the corner of your eye before he continued, “I’ve stayed with you this entire evening, and yet I still find myself longing for you.”

When his gaze met yours, his eyes were warm and serious despite the playful lift of his brow. A quiet apology came from you in reply, one of your hands lifting to rub at your heavy eyelids. Humming in acknowledgment, the Feline’s hands left you momentarily in order to spin your desk chair around before they returned to your shoulders - this time his fingers slid down your arms and took your hands in his own.

You had expected him to gently usher you to bed, but what came instead made your eyes grow wide. In a few swift movements, SilverAsh took your place on your desk chair and pulled you to sit in his lap. A small chuckle left him as your eyes searched for his, surprise on your face; when his name left your lips in question, the Guard Operator tilted his head to the side in fake confusion. “Hah...that surprised look on your face, you amuse me so my dear.” His hands came to hold your waist, “You’re tense. Relax for me...after all, no one is better suited to bring you ease than me, isn't that right?”

His eyes were locked with yours, and with every word he whispered to you, he moved his lips closer to yours. He held this sincere warmth that was meant only for you in his gaze; when you looked carefully enough, a glimmer of desire was there as well. Despite that, SilverAsh patiently waited for your reply, his eyes flicking to your lips for a split second or two in order to silently communicate what he wanted from you.

His affectionate gaze caused some of the tension to fade from your body, and you sighed softly; your voice was almost inaudible when you replied, “That’s right, Enciodas.” There was only a sliver of space left between the both of you - you felt him smile before he muttered, “Very good…”

SilverAsh had been moving so slowly, and yet when his lips finally met yours it was as if all his patience left him; his head tilted in order to kiss you deeper and one of his hands drifted up from your waist to cup your jawline. The air around the both of you became warm, and so you practically melted into him. A few seconds into the kiss, your senses were null - but then it all comes rushing towards you.

Your papers are long forgotten when you lifted your hands from his chest to his hair. SilverAsh hummed gently against your lips as your fingers began combing through the fluffy locks - and when your touch grazed his snow leopard ears they twitched slightly, much to your amusement. You thought about taking a second to comment on it, but the Guard Operator didn't seem to want you to pull away, and so the thought faded quickly.

The Feline’s touch attracted all your focus, it’s so warm it's almost burning - or perhaps you were just flustered because of the close proximity, in all honesty, you were far too distracted by the kiss to tell the difference - and on his lips was the cool taste of peppermint. It was a stark contrast, the mix of hot and cold was so distinctive that you were sure you’d be thinking about it later on; though it was unbeknownst to you, SilverAsh certainly hoped so.

As the kiss came to a close both of you stilled, wordlessly taking in every detail of each other.

For someone who everyone said was ruthless and shrewd, SilverAsh encompassed so much tenderness in moments like these. When it came to you, his hands were so gentle, his voice was so soft, and his gaze was so warm; but no one else would ever be able to understand that side of him, because he reserved it for you and you only.

“E-Enciodas…” When the two of you finally broke away from each other, his name fell from your lips breathlessly. Taking his hand from your waist, he gently ran it up and down your back, “There you are, my dear. Ease up for me.” His soft gaze met yours, and a smile painted his lips when he noticed the rosy blush on your cheeks - you weren't expecting him to act so bold all of a sudden, but you had no complaints. Your head dropped to his shoulder, and he sighed in content as an easing warmth came over his own body. You were always so warm, so soft - he didn't want to ever let go of you.

The kiss had rendered the two of you a little speechless, and so for a while you both sat in serene silence. SilverAsh’s voice cut into the quietness softly after some time, “I apologize, it seems I was rather touch-starved and couldn't handle myself.” You shifted a little in his lap, but didn't say anything in reply. Lifting a brow, the Feline tilted his head in order to whisper into your ear - then your soft snoring met his ears.

He blinked, then a light chuckle came from his lips; you were fast asleep. Well, you had been working all day, so the Guard Operator was glad you were finally resting. If SilverAsh had known a kiss was all it took for you to relax, he would’ve had you asleep hours ago. That was alright, now he knew for next time.

Involuntarily, a grin came to his face as he shut his eyes and let his head rest against yours. Your lips had left a lingering warmth on his own; a warmth that the Feline found comforting, and maybe a little too pleasant. His smile grew - yes, SilverAsh was sure ‘next time’ would be happening quite soon.

EXECUTOR

You really couldn't thank Executor enough for allowing you to come along with him for his mission back at his home country - Laterano was truly breathtaking, from the architecture to the way all the citizens dressed. Considering your position as Rhodes Island’s tactical leader, you understood that accompanying Operators on their missions was a little dangerous and maybe not always necessary, but you had wanted to spend more time with the Sankta so he complied. After all, he could protect you if anything were to go wrong.

The view outside the window you were currently standing before almost felt like a dream. You understood that there was work to be done, and that Executor only agreed to stop at a hotel room because he knew you were both tired from talking around and trying to find intel pertaining to the mission but still - taking the time to relax couldn't hurt.

By the time you both settled into the hotel room, the sun had just begun to set; Executor had explained that it was going to be an uneventful evening, mostly just paperwork and going through flies.

“Doctor,” As cool and steady as always, Executor’s voice cut into your silence - your rapt attention went to him as he approached you, moving into your peripheral vision, “You should take this time to rest. Our work tomorrow begins very early in the morning, and I do not know when we will be able to have a break.” As you turned to face him an appreciative smile came to your lips, “You should rest too, Executor.” A shake of the head came in reply, which wasn't much of a surprise; “Do not worry about me. The Notarial Hall has requested that I complete multiple reports about the work we accomplished today, so I have no room to rest for very long.”

Your smile fell slightly. He had more work to do on top of what had already been assigned to him by Amiya? The Sankta before you took note of your mood shift right away; eyes thoughtful, he blinked for a second then spoke once more in a softer tone, “...However, if you wish for me to take some time to rest with you, then very well.” A little sheepishly, you looked off to the side before admitting that you were concerned with all the work he was deluging himself with. A bit of warmth broke onto Executor’s usually calm, unreadable facial expression as he began to remove his distinctive uniform coat; “I appreciate that. I do not want to cause you to worry over my wellbeing, so I will take some time to rest.”

Pleased, your grin returned - wider this time. The Sniper Operator’s demeanor grew warmer at your visible content. Quiet, he joined you in staring out at the sunset beyond the hotel room window. The air around you two was quiet, serene; but something was pulling on inside your chest, wanting to move closer to Executor. And so, your hand found his, and ever-so-slowly you laced your fingers together. Under your unexpected touch, the Sankta stiffened by a hair. He read something on your face, something that caused him to drop the formalities and call you by the nickname he had started getting used to addressing you as, “Hm...yes, love?”

Too focused on how your hand felt in his, you didn't reply. Instead, you turned to meet his gaze with a soft smile on your lips; a few emotions you couldn't distinguish flashed behind Executor’s eyes for but a split second at the affectionate expression on your face, before the coolness in the blue of his gaze melted into warmth.

His eyebrows furrowed together slightly as he stared back at you, and he opened and closed his mouth a few times before finding his words, “...Please excuse me, I… I cannot read your expression.” Emotions weren’t the Sankta’s strong-suit in any sense, but considering how understanding you had always been towards him, he wasn’t afraid to admit so. Voice just above a whisper, you assured him it was alright and let him know he could come a little closer. His hand remained in yours as he did so, shoulders tight and posture a little tense while his free hand hovered a little awkwardly at your side; you chimed with a light laugh at his behaviour, “It’s okay, you can touch me Executor.”

Executor was a little uncertain, but after a few seconds his hand settled comfortably on your waist and the other squeezed your hand ever-so-gently. Then he admitted to you quietly, “I am unsure on where to put my hands.” You shook your head, “This is perfect, don't worry.” The space between the both of you was barely a sliver as you leaned closer to him, expression still full of affection; his eyes flicked down to your lips, and yours glanced at his. Facial cues were something the Sniper Operator failed to understand, but the warmth balling itself in his chest told him to pull you closer. His mind told him that this wasn't appropriate, that his focus should be on his mission and his work, not on you; but the tugging in both his chest and yours was so intense that there was no use pulling back now.

And so, the Sankta finally broke the silence. “Love?” He paused, debating on whether or not he should speak, before mumbling his words against your mouth slowly, “May I kiss you?” He didn't have to ask - you replied in a small nod and Executor wasted no time closing the space between your lips and his own.

Gentle, careful; those weren’t words the others at Rhodes Island would associate Executor with, and yet that was all that ran through your mind when his lips captured yours. And his lips, they tasted sweet; as if he had just eaten a slice of cake or a spoonful of sugar. It was so stark considering how cold and stoic he appeared, but you couldn’t help but adore it. It was almost poetic - maybe you were the only one who would be able to witness and receive this sweetness from the Sankta.

He leaned into your touch when your hand came to cradle his cheek, and his arm slipped around your waist in order to pull you closer - so close that he was certain you could feel his heartbeat against your chest. But that was what he wanted and you allowed him to do so. Your fingers began running through his hair, pushing the white strands away from his face. Executor almost melting. The Sankta’s usual mechanic mind completely malfunctioned at both your close proximity and touch; every gear jammed and every cog stopped turning.

For Executor, this was so utterly odd. On the battlefield, the Sniper Operator was anything but hesitant; when his gun was in his hands, he knew exactly what to do. But with you - when it was you in his hands, his mind was overcome with uncertainty and all his thoughts became incoherent, all because of you. It always made his chest fill with warmth, it always made his stomach flutter, it always made his heart beat too fast, and yet it always felt so right.

When the Sankta ran out of air, he broke away gently; his eyes slipped open to meet your own as he rested his face in your palm. Your voice was soft against his lips, “Are you okay?” Giving you the softest expression, he unwrapped his arm from your waist so he could hold your hand to his cheek, “Yes love...thank you. This may not make any sense to you, but I feel almost energetic now.” A small chuckle came from you in reply. “You’re welcome, Executor. If you’re feeling so eager, we can get back to work in...just a minute.” Though you said that, you didn't seem to be interested in pulling away, and in all honesty neither was he. Yes, his mission was important; but surely taking a second more to rest with you was okay.

Executor’s gaze observed both you and the surrounding room carefully. You were looking back at him with eyes full of adoration and the most effusive grin, the sun through the window almost caused the rosy flush on your face to glow and was surely glinting off his halo and wings, the sunset-painted room was full of warmth that embraced him like a freshly washed blanket - his heart grew a little more with every detail he took note of.

The Sankta returned back to reality when your head fell on his shoulder and you whispered out a small, sincere confession - “I love you Executor.” His heart leapt and his breath hitched at the three words despite you having said them to him multiple times by then, and as always, he let one of his rare smiles grace his lips and replied right away, not missing a beat: “And I love you - more than I am able to describe.”

Honestly, though he tried as best he could, Executor wasn't sure if those words adequately expressed how thankful he was for you, how much he adored the way the feel of your shared kiss was still on his lips, how badly he wished to hold you and never pull away - but he supposed, if anything, it was enough.

#tysm again for the request anon sbsbjss 🥺#i got all soft while writing this 😭😭#arknights #arknights imagines #arknights silverash #arknights executor #arknights x reader #silverash arknights #executor arknights #arknights imagine #arknights fanfic #arknights fanfics #arknights writing #imagine #imagines #writing #silverash #executor

220 notes · View notes

avissapiens · 3 years

Text

Avis' Subject Symposium

A Crash Course in Trance Pt 1: Files.

(Art by Acro @sodalite96/https://twitter.com/sodalite96 Used with their permission. Go check them out!)

So often new subjects come to me and they don’t know the first thing about trance. None of its mechanics or methods, and so it can be very daunting for them; to step into such a wide abyss without knowing what to expect and what is expected of you. Many of them, even experienced subjects, expect that 100% of the work is and should be done by the Hypnotist. In truth both parties, the hypnotist and the subject, must be willing and able. But while it’s more readily apparent what must be done in order for a tist to be successful in their endeavors, many subjects/potential subjects can have a hard time understanding what it takes to get the most out of their trance, both from pre-recorded files, and from live sessions with a hypnotist. So, I’m here to give you what is in my opinion, the essential Crash Course to Trance, starting first with trancing to files.

Location

Find yourself somewhere nice, darkened and quiet, where you know you won’t be disturbed. This is already a hard task for a lot of subjects, living with other people always increases the chance that one might barge in on you, eyes glazed over, drooling all over yourself. Or that someone’s reckless pounding from above might shake the abyss so thoroughly that it takes you out of trance. But here is the thing I will stress. While physical quiet is a good idea as it allows you to focus on the words and suggestions streaming into your head. What matters so much more is internal peace and quiet. A location where you can feel at ease and safe and secure in yourself. A locked bedroom surrounded by mountains of pillows. Your favorite plush armchair that threatens to swallow you almost as well as the Abyss of Trance. The peaceful morning route on the train whose path you know so well that you can be lulled into trance just by the rumbling vibrations of the tracks beneath your seat. Wherever you can be comfortable.

The ideal location for trance I'm sure does exist in some government facility or therapists office somewhere, where you can be dropped into an isolation tank and be brainwashed clean. But most of us will never encounter that. So what matters then is the ideal mindset for trance, which is one of peace, safety, trust and assurance.

Equipment

This is one of the reasons so many love using files. Because its barrier to entry is so low. All you really need is something to play the file on and a place to listen. This is in contrast to working directly with a tist where you need, at the very least, A good internet connection, maybe a camera, Another person who you trust and who might be wildly inconsistent. Or working in person which probably will require a whole location and time-table to get set up. No, Files are relatively simple and they are no better or worse than live sessions for certain purposes. However, like all simple things, they can be elevated by improving its ingredients. A box cake from the store and a home-made chiffon are functionally the same, but their difference comes in the ingredients and technique.

So for trance I recommend spoiling yourself a little, at the very least buy yourself some decent quality over-ear headphones. Many file-makers (myself included) add frequencies and binaural beats underneath the main track. These serve the purpose of training your own brain’s waveforms to a certain frequency, thus more easily taking you into trance. But they can only be detected and properly registered with some good headphones. Additionally, The encapsulation of headphones provides a more immersive experience, isolating you and transporting you through the trance experience like you are in your own little world. Trust me. $600 studio headphones aren’t needed, But a good quality wired $40 headset goes a long way and is multi-purpose. A decent quality chair or mattress also will serve you well, not just in trance but in life.

Focus

Trance is a very tricky state that, like all things, requires practice and patience to master. Staying in trance is like a tightrope walk, teetering gently between the realm of consciousness and awareness, and the oblivion of total subconscious and sleep. It is the liminal space between the two, that subconscious space that makes trance and hypnosis possible. It is the state where your mind is most open to total suggestion and where magical things can happen. So how does one walk the line between these two modes of being? The answer is focus. Or rather Half-focus. Focusing without focusing. With descriptions like that it can sound like some kind of Zen riddle, but that is often what it feels like sometimes. Now this is not a laser focus like you would expect in a classroom setting, no one is being tested here. It's a more gentle and subtle focus. Like focusing on the world around you. Focusing on the wind on your face, the rise and fall of your lungs; On the way your body just goes loose and slumps over. The trick is to go in and to follow along, to listen and pay attention and try to comply with the suggestions given at first. Suspend your disbelief and engage with it unironically and without pretense. If you notice yourself drifting, don’t try to force it back to focus. Simply let it explore where it wants and to carry on organically. Nothing in trance needs to be forced. Simply focused on and allowed to happen.

Many subs oscillate in trance, their minds ebbing and flowing like a Sine wave; wavering in and out of trance, one minute aware, the next minute completely blank and asleep, and then for a brief moment in bliss. But it averages out to trance at the end of it. One must also not fear dropping out of trance. Focusing too much on that eventuality makes it a self fulfilling prophecy. Just Focus-not-focus-half-focus and enjoy yourself.

Apprehension

So many subjects look at files and their mind begins to spin with endless questions and anxieties. Worries about “losing themselves” or “changing too much” or “doing things they don’t want to do.” It’s a valid set of concerns for a new subject, uninitiated in the true mechanics of trance and only knowing of hypnosis what is shown in the media. Evil villains and monsters brainwashing our heroes to do horribly enticing and arousing things. So ingrained is this idea that it even crossed over into the allure of hypnosis files. And while I won’t say it's impossible for that to happen, I have 3 comments on it to ease your mind. First, with Files, one of the best things about it is that the subject gets to control practically every single aspect of the experience. When you do it, how many times you listen, and whether you listen at all to begin with. While all files should be clearly labelled with Content and trigger warnings and given an explicit summary of what they are and what they do, we know that is not the case. The amount of “Mystery files” I've seen on various forums irks me to no end. But it appeals to some people. However, for those who are not particularly fond of surprises you have the absolute power to review the file before you trance to it. You can give it a fully aware walk through, or just jump through segments to look for anything that doesn’t suit your taste.

Once you’ve done that however you might still be conflicted about some content. Not openly averse to it, but unsure. Dumbing down and IQ reduction are probably number one on this list. People are so terrified of somehow losing everything when they learn to stop overthinking things. For these concerns my second point suggests Introspection. Ask yourself “Why do I/Don’t I want this?” “Is it really as bad as my anxiety is making it out to be?” Because if you like something a lot, and really want it, then why should you deny yourself it out of fear? Even aside from dumbing, many desires are tinged with this air of guilt or fear. Terrified to acknowledge or grab hold of what we truly want and own up to it. In my estimation Hypnosis can be one of the best ways of dabbling with those desires because in trance there is no shame or judgement. Finally, my 3rd point says you don’t have to worry. If you really don’t like a suggestion you can always leave it behind. Your mind has built in fail-safes to reject suggestions you haven’t agreed to. A file cannot make you do something unless you want it, at least subconsciously. The old cliche goes “All Hypnosis is Self-Hypnosis” and what that fundamentally means is that as a subject you are the one who decides what happens. You consent and go along with things and allow them to happen to you. It is your desire, your focus, your arousal and your own subconscious that allows hypnosis to work. Subjects have more power than they know. I really hope it assists some people in vibing better with trance and files. I’ll be putting out another version for Live hypnotists later this month.

Thanks again to Acro for letting me use their Art, definitely go and support them on twitter. And If you want to support the creation of more hypnotic experiences that might help you practice that balance of focus then you can do so by subscribing to my Patreon, or to my Youtube channel. And if you want to interact more closely with me and my supportive community you can join my Discord server.

#Hypnosis #trance #gay hypnosis #brainwashing #caption #hypnotized #hypnokink

205 notes · View notes

wolferine · 3 years

Text

Unforgivable - Part 2

Natasha Romanoff x Reader

Summary: When the reader loses their temper, it causes them to commit an act they can never take back...

Warnings: Violence, blood, torture, death

Word count: 2372

Part 1

Tags: @yeetus-thyself @phoenixofash @lilclownx @yeeterthekeeper @alessiapn @diaryoflife

AN: Please read to the end before you come after me. :)

Everything is a blur. The last thing you remember is cradling Natasha in your lap and seeing the pain of betrayal in her eyes. You did this to her. You couldn’t control your anger and now she had a bullet—shot out of your gun—in her back. You hurt her and there was no way you could ever forgive yourself for that.

You finally let Tony get close enough to take care of her, because you realized you don’t deserve her anymore.

You run away from the Avengers Tower, your leg slowing you down, but you don’t care. Each step feels like a knife rubbing against your bone, but even that’s not enough to distract you from the pain in your chest. It feels like someone has torn you open, ripped your heart out of your ribcage, and thrown it into a bonfire.

But you have no one to blame than yourself.

Tears stream down your face as you stumble through the streets, eventually finding some privacy in a nearby forest. Your sobs echo through the trees as you crawl hand over hand, your uniform shredding open on bushes and branches. The trickle of a creek calls to you and you dunk your bloody hands in the freezing water, desperate to wash yourself of your failures.

You can’t believe what you’ve done.

The scene of Natasha falling to the floor plays over and over in your head and you would pay anything to unsee it. You curl into a ball, wiping your nose on your knees. You deserve all the pain and misery for your actions. You’re so caught up in your head, thinking about all the ways you can punish yourself, that you don’t notice the group of men sneaking up on you from behind.

“Over there! Over there!”

“By the creek, see?”

“Wait—that’s an Avenger?”

“Looks like someone had a bad day.”

“Hey, Y/N.”

At the sound of your name, you finally lift your head, only for the butt of a shotgun to slam into your face. Your nose breaks and blood fills your mouth. You turn away, not even interested in protecting yourself. If they killed you, you would thank them.

“Aw, come on. At least give us a reaction,” someone says.

The shotgun butt smashes against the back of your head and you wouldn’t be surprised if it cracked your skull. Someone kicks your leg where you were shot, and you bite your lip to hold back a scream.

“Well, this is anti-climactic.”

“Hey, if it makes our job easier, I’m not gonna complain.”

“I still think Hammer’s weird for wanting Y/N over the other Avengers.”

“Given the circumstances, he couldn’t really be picky—”

“Stop standing around and get to it!” someone yells.

The men surround you, punching and kicking every inch of you. The bulletproof vest of your uniform does little to lessen the impact of their blows. You feel bruises forming along your ribs and your rattling teeth bite your lips bloody. It doesn’t take long for you to black out and the peace is blissful.

***********************************************************************

Sometime later—you have no idea how long—you jolt awake, finding yourself strapped to a metal chair in the middle of a dark, concrete room. A man in glasses and a gray suit with white gloves stands in front of you.

“Hello, I’m Justin Hammer,” he says, offering a hand, then withdrawing when he realizes your arms are tied to the chair. “Sorry, force of habit.”

You stare at him. Your tongue pokes around the inside of your mouth and you notice some teeth are missing. There is a painful crick in your neck every time you try moving your head and every breath you take feels like a razor blade scraping the inside of your lungs.

“You’ve probably never heard of me, but I’m very familiar with you and your work with the Avengers. But the reason I have you here today is to talk about this man.” Hammer pulls out a folded photograph from his pocket and shows it to you.

It’s Tony Stark, but you have no desire to even think of that man anymore.

“Your best friend, right?” Hammer teases and you curl your lip at him. “What’s wrong? He’s the one who got you a spot on the team, isn’t he?” You look away from him. “I heard what he did to your girl,” he continues. “That must’ve felt like the betrayal of the century.”

“What?” you ask, confused as to what he’s referring to.

“I heard about what happened at the Avengers Tower. So tragic.” Hammer crumples Tony’s photograph and drops it on the floor. “Romanoff didn’t deserve that.”

“W-What are you talking about? Is she okay?” Your bottom lip quivers in fear.

Hammer kneels in front of you. “She’s dead, Y/N.”

“No, no…” You feel like he’s punched you right through the chest. “T-That’s not possible.”

“I’m sorry. I know she meant a lot to you.” Hammer stands again.

“How do you even know what happened at the Tower?” Given its security, there was no way news like that reached the public. At least not the truth of it. Maybe Hammer was just trying to mess with you.

Hammer motions behind him and a blonde woman steps forward from the shadows. Her face jolts your memory, but you don’t remember exactly where from.

“Recognize her?” Hammer asks. “She actually works for me, but she’s been pretending to be a SHIELD agent for some time now. She was right outside the door when your little spat with Stark went down.” Your mind flashes back to when you returned from the mission with Natasha. On your way to the private Avengers’ quarters, you remember passing the same blonde woman right outside the door.

“She heard everything that happened inside,” Hammer says as the blonde woman retreats into the darkness again.

“N-Natasha’s…She’s…She’s not dead,” you stammer.

Hammer shakes his head. “She went into surgery after Stark shot her, but due to the placement of the bullet, there were some complications and she coded on the table. They couldn’t revive her. That part was all over the news.”

You feel so sick you want to vomit. “I…I killed her?”

“No. You didn’t kill her. Tony Stark killed her.”

You start gasping for air, only worsening the pain in your chest. “No—But—He—I’m the one who pulled the trigger—”

“But you weren’t aiming for her. You were aiming for Stark, and he’s the one who deflected the bullet into her,” Hammer says. “He’s also the one who sent you two on that mission to begin with, wasn’t he? The reason you lost your cool and pulled your gun out? Think, Y/N. All of this is Stark’s fault.”

But the sadness of thinking you’ve killed Natasha is too overwhelming. You can’t focus on anything but your own guilt. You will burn in hell for this and you won’t even mind.

“Listen to me, Y/N!” Hammer snaps, striking you across the face. His rings cut into your cheek and blood fills your mouth. “I hate Stark just as much as you do. He’s been my business rival for years and I need someone to help me take him down. Who better than you, a former friend of his, who knows how to hit him where it hurts?”

You start crying at the thought of having to exist in a world without Natasha Romanoff.

Hammer tries getting your attention by slapping you again, but you’re unresponsive. You’re too lost in your grief to process anything he’s saying, and eventually he gives up, promising to come back another time to reveal his master plan to you.

It takes an entire month before he can even communicate with you. Your depression is all-consuming and their threats on your life have no effect. They’re startled to learn you actually enjoy the torture because you believe you deserve it after what you did to Natasha. But Hammer is relentless and finally figures out how to manipulate you into his bidding.

Six months after your capture and the accident, you finally crack. Your agony and pain turns into pure rage and hatred for Tony Stark. You can’t bring Natasha back, but you can get revenge on the man who took her life. After training with Hammer’s technology, which is almost as advanced as Tony’s, you’re deemed ready to be let out in the real world. Hammer personally asks for your help to kill Tony Stark, and it’s an offer you accept gladly.

***********************************************************************

Three months after the accident…

Natasha wakes up and looks to her right, disappointed to see the bed still empty. She’s tricked herself into believing that one day you’ll show up, ready to pick up the pieces and continue where you left off. But nothing has been the same since you left.

She sits up and turns the lights on. She scoots to the edge of the bed and carefully lifts her body into the wheelchair parked there.

The bullet had struck her lumbar spine, shattering her L1 vertebrae and paralyzing her from the waist down. Tony requested help from the best doctors he knew, but even the greatest modern advancements couldn’t repair her spine. He had personally designed her wheelchair, and she knows she should be grateful to still be alive, but she’s never felt so helpless and alone.

After the accident, you ran off and no one could locate you. Secretly, she held onto the hope you would return one day, but she knows your guilt and shame are keeping you away. She wants to tell you that it wasn’t your fault and that she doesn’t hate you, but you’re not even giving her that chance.

Tony made the public announcement that Black Widow had retired from the Avengers. No one knew she had been paralyzed, nor that you had unofficially resigned from the team. Without you, without Black Widow, Natasha didn’t know who she was anymore.

She leaves her bedroom and goes into the kitchen. Tony arranged most of the food and dishes down to her new height but she feels like she’ll never adjust to not being able to stand anymore. She locates a bowl and a box of cereal and rolls over to the table. She chokes down dry Cheerios and pours her second bowlful when Tony walks in.

“Thank God you’re finally up,” he says. “When you’re done, I have something to show you.”

“Y/N?” She perks up.

“Uh…no…”

Natasha knows Tony blames himself just as much as she does for her accident, but it wasn’t his fault either. She wrestled between anger and guilt, sometimes blaming you, sometimes blaming him. But in the end, it’s easier to blame herself. She should have stopped you the moment you took out your gun, regardless of whether or not you pushed her. But she got so caught up in the moment she froze, and now she was paralyzed and you were gone.

“Just come down to my workshop, okay?” Tony disappears again.

With nothing better to do, Natasha takes the elevator down to Tony’s workshop. She doesn’t visit often, but when she does, she’s always impressed by his latest inventions and gadgets. She rolls down the aisle of old Iron Man suits displayed in glass cases, admiring the subtle differences in each one.

“Where are you, Tony?” she calls.

“Over here!” He waves her down from the other end. “I’ve been working on this for a while, and I know it’s a little premature, but I couldn’t help myself.” Tony stands next to another Iron Man suit, but it doesn’t quite look like it will fit him.

The suit is curved to fit a woman, black and red instead of Tony’s iconic red and gold. Natasha sees a red hourglass emblazoned on the belt buckle.

“What…What is this, Tony?” she asks, tears in her eyes.

“It’s an Iron Widow suit,” he says. “Or, whatever you want to call it. You’ll have to get in and test it out for yourself, but it’ll allow you to walk again and…be an Avenger again.”

Natasha wishes she could throw herself into his arms, but pulls him down to her level instead. “Thank you,” she whispers, wiping her face. She never thought she would be able to serve as an Avenger again, but she’ll take the opportunity if it means taking her mind off recent events.

“Ready to try it out?” Tony presses a button on the side of the suit and the suit opens up, bending into a crouched position so Natasha can get in it like a chair.

She smiles for the first time since the accident.

“I am.”

***********************************************************************

Six months after the accident…

Natasha is in the gym, lifting dumbbells on a bench when Tony walks in. Although she now has a legitimate excuse for skipping leg day for the rest of her life, she now has to make sure her upper body is twice as strong to make up for it.

“Look who decided to slide through my DMs this morning,” Tony says, shoving his phone in her face.

Midnight. Central Park Carousel. Come alone.

The text was from you.

“Oh, my God,” Natasha says, setting the weights down. You haven’t even texted her since the accident, and she’s a little hurt you didn’t reach out to her first. “What’s this about?”

“I have no idea.” Tony shrugs. “I know it says for me to go alone, but since it’s from Y/N, I wanted to ask if you wanted to tag along.”

“Of course.” In a way, Natasha feels like the text is really meant for her. Central Park was where you had asked her to be your girlfriend. That couldn’t be a coincidence.

“I’ll need you to be on your A-game. We have no idea what Y/N’s been up to these past six months. I don’t know if you’re gonna like what we find,” Tony says.

Natasha has spent countless nights wondering where you’ve been and what you’re doing. Now she has the chance to find out. “It’s going to be okay, Tony,” she says.

He shakes his head. “Just so you know, I’m praying more for you than me right now.”

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

Click here for Part 3!

AN: I never went to medical school, so forgive my medical inaccuracies.

#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff fanfic #black widow #black widow fanfiction #marvel imagine #natasha x reader

136 notes · View notes

robininthelabyrinth · 3 years

Note

There was a comment a while back about NMJ having capybara energy. So have a cracky prompt of some strategists in the Sunshot Campaign deciding how this could be weaponized, or used as an interrogation technique. If they give cooperate and give information, they can be in a cuddle pile with NMJ.

ao3

The worst part about war was, unquestionably, the war itself.

The loss of life, the injuries, the stress – the agonizing terror of knowing that each moment might be your last, the painful boredom of waiting for something to happen, the shaking anxiety of never knowing which one the day would bring. Watching your friends and family suffer, watching innocent people suffer…it was grotesquely awful in ways Lan Xichen had never even dreamed of it being.

And yet, as if war wasn’t bad enough by itself, it also had – side effects.

Evil creatures thrived on resentful energy, their own or others’, gathered at sites of death or violence, and there was nothing that they liked better than the wasted spiritual energy that accompanied the untimely death of cultivators. This war, sect against sect, was a breeding ground for all the creatures that they ought to be night-hunting, not encouraging.

Led by Nie Mingjue, who never forgot his obligations, their side – the Four Great Sects, that was – took care of the innocent people who were being harmed by their war, protecting them from the immediate aftereffects, settling them in new places if their homes were damaged, making sure they weren’t caught in the middle of ongoing battle. Sects that skimped on their duties to the common people were mercilessly cut off in turn, where necessary, and Nie Mingjue had even demanded that Lanling Jin personally recompense an entire village that had lost their homes due to their negligence or else face the next Wen attack without his aid – the cost of doing so was negligible for them, but the humiliating loss of face among the rest of the sects that he had even had felt the need to make the threat, coupled with the fact that they really did need his help, served as an extremely potent reminder for everyone else.

When possible, the sects devoted some resources to night-hunting, trying to restrain the effects of their war, but it was like trying to hold back an avalanche that had already started: they could mitigate some of the damage, but until the war was over, it would only get worse and worse.

It didn’t help, naturally, that the Wen sect’s leaders didn’t care one whit about the effects of their actions.

Wen Ruohan loudly blamed the other Great Sects for it, claiming that they were ‘rebelling’ against him – as if they hadn’t all been equal just before – and that the heavens were punishing them for their violation of the natural order; his commanders followed suit, disdaining even the distraction of night-hunting and making dismissive promises that it would all be resolved when the war was won.

Still, however Wen Ruohan felt, however his generals and commanders felt, even they couldn’t ignore all the effects.

Especially not the ones that hit everyone equally.

“More nightmares?” Lan Xichen asked Jiang Cheng as he came into the command tent, rubbing his red eyes and looking awful. They all looked awful, but the recent affliction of dream-eaters that had swept through their camp and the enemy’s was especially vicious - particularly on those like Jiang Cheng, who had already existing trauma and were already burdened by nightmares. They were killing the creatures that generated the nightmares as quickly as possible, but there was only so much they could do with the encampment of the Wen sect not far away, waiting for a display of weakness that would give them the opportunity to attack.

The Wen sect were afflicted by the dream-eaters, too, and under any other circumstances Lan Xichen would propose that they raise the flag of truce long enough to eradicate the menace. Unfortunately, the Wen sect had proved themselves fundamentally untrustworthy – Jiang Cheng’s own family situation told the story quite vividly, even if Lan Xichen didn’t have to only close his eyes to see the burning of the Cloud Recesses – and so they all just suffered, instead.

“Bad ones,” Jiang Cheng said grimly, and nodded at Wei Wuxian, who had followed him into the tent looking, somehow, even worse. Not a great surprise, given that he’d been trapped in the Burial Mounds and now utilized resentful energy as a weapon – he had to be even more susceptible to the nightmares than the rest of them, but there was nothing to be done about it; his new cultivation style was too valuable for him to stop now. If Lan Xichen had to guess, Wei Wuxian was working himself to the bone and collapsing into nightmares, never getting any rest; his eyes were bloodshot, his face haggard, his waist too thin.

When Lan Wangji entered the tent next and saw Wei Wuxian there, looking half-dead, his face immediately twisted in what Lan Xichen recognized as clear concern. Poor Lan Wangji was suffering, too, although perhaps Lan Xichen was the only one who could tell.

Lan Xichen felt a stab of pain on all their behalf, all of them, and handed out tea to strengthen their spirits. He’d selected the most energizing blend he could find in preparation for this meeting, their first in several weeks – they were all fighting their own fronts, Lanling Jin in Langya, Qinghe Nie in Hejian, so on and so forth, but they needed to coordinate, and these in-person meetings were the best option for it.

And they really needed to discuss what to do about this new nightmare scourge.

“I think it’s like this for everyone,” Jiang Cheng said, accepting the tea, and Lan Xichen was just in the middle of nodding when he heard a strange sound – laughter, of all things.

They all turned to stare at the door, where Nie Huaisang was walking in, followed by an exhausted-looking Jin Zixuan as his father’s representative. It had been Lan Xichen who had asked for Nie Huaisang to be brought here from his refuge at the Cloud Recesses, thinking that this highly protected meeting was as close to safety on the battlefield as they could get and that it would be good for Nie Mingjue to see his little brother safe and sound.

Of all of them, they needed Nie Mingjue to remain strong. He was the Great Sects’ most effective general, their most terrifying war god; he was as viciously effective a general as he was a frontline fighter, designing many of the strategies they all used and providing many of their sects with critical assistance even though his Nie sect and its affiliated sects were the least numerous of the Great Sects, excluding only the significantly diminished forces of the Jiang sect.

More than his personal contribution, though, he’d become something of a lucky talisman for the rest of them. Lan Xichen had heard all sorts of stories about each and every one of them - Jiang Cheng as the resurrected phoenix, unkillable; Wei Wuxian as a demon barely leashed and used for their own purposes; Lan Xichen himself as a beacon of light bringing hope to those who needed it most - but that was nothing compared to what was said and believed about Nie Mingjue: that as long as Chifeng-zun was there, inexorable and inviolable, the unquestioned king of Hejian, the Wen sect’s eventual defeat was inevitable.

Even Lan Xichen found himself thinking it, reassuring himself late at night that all their efforts were not for nothing, that it would all end well in the end.

It wasn’t a healthy way of thinking, not for them and least of all for Nie Mingjue himself, who had to live up to that terrible reputation, but it was what was getting them through each day of this terrible war. So if there was something within Lan Xichen’s power to help Nie Mingjue keep himself together, he would do it, no matter the risk.

Nie Huaisang had arrived at their encampment the day before, with Nie Mingjue himself arriving even later, coming very late at night, and now it was morning and Nie Huaisang was laughing.

Laughing free and easy as if he didn’t have a care in the world, no less, and probably at one of his own jokes; Jin Zixuan was looking at him as if he’d never seen such a strange and wonderous thing in his life, and Jiang Cheng and Wei Wuxian and…well, everyone, really, were all following suit. They’d all laughed in recent days, of course, war lending itself to black humor, but Nie Huaisang looked so light-hearted.

So…well-rested.

“Huaisang,” Lan Xichen said, blinking owlishly at him. “You look…good.” No, that wasn’t the word he was looking for. “Healthy.”

Not in need of sleep, he meant.

“Oh, well, you know,” Nie Huaisang demurred, hiding his face behind his fan. “I’m happy to see da-ge, that’s all. I get to comfort myself that he’s well and get a good night’s sleep for once; why wouldn’t I be well? Nothing much to it.”

“Good night’s sleep?” Jiang Cheng echoed, looking disbelieving – as well he should, too. Their current encampent was right next to one of the worst collections of nightmare afflicting creatures, the vicious dream-eaters that confused the mind and injured the spirit. “You got a good night’s sleep?”

“Better here than in the Cloud Recesses?” Wei Wuxian asked, rubbing his eyes. “Really?”

“Uh, yes?” Nie Huaisang said, and now it was his turn to blink at them. “My da-ge is here. I slept well and untroubled for the first time in ages.”

“That sounds...nice,” Jin Zixuan said, rubbing his eyes as well – probably inspired by Wei Wuxian. Such things were communicative. “You must have been worried about him.”

“Oh, da-ge will be fine, I’m sure,” Nie Huaisang said blithely, and Lan Xichen suppressed the abrupt and overwhelming desire to punch him. “But I have nightmares sometimes, you know, and there’s no reason not to use medicine if it’s available, right?”

“Medicine?” Lan Wangji asked, voice intent, and Lan Xichen went from mild irritation to sadness at once: for Lan Wangji to ask such a thing, to show such weakness, the nightmares must be very bad indeed.

“Yes, my da-ge,” Nie Huaisang said. “He’s nightmare-proof.”

“I’m glad that that works for you,” Jiang Cheng said snippily. “Pity about the rest of us.”

Nie Huaisang frowned at him. “It’s not just me,” he said. “It’s just how he is. Don’t you know?”

Lan Xichen was going to intervene and settle them down – their tempers were all unduly short, given the nightmare situation, and he really didn’t want to have to deal with that before having to cope with the same from Nie Mingjue, whose temper was extremely short at the best of times – but then just as he was opening his mouth to say something he was suddenly hit by an overwhelming feeling of sudden calm, the same sort of pleasant languor that came in the early morning of a calm rest day where you didn’t need to get out of bed, or perhaps in a warm and lazy afternoon when you had nothing to do and were considering a nap.

It was amazing.

Lan Xichen could see the same effect taking hold of the others, too: Jin Zixuan let out a little sigh, Jiang Cheng and Lan Wangji both rocked back a little on their heels, eyes sliding closed in pleasure, Wei Wuxian actually let out a near-audible whimper of relief –

And then Nie Mingjue walked into the command tent.

“Good morning,” he said. He looked as steady as always, a tall and unshakable mountain; his brow was creased in his usual expression of neutral ill-humor and one could arguably feel the heat of his always simmering temper, but at the moment it just felt like warmth. “It’s good to see you all.”

They all murmured greetings in return, watching as Nie Mingjue – and the aura of calm relaxation that, apparently, accompanied him – passed them by and went towards the table where they had laid out all their plans. Unconsciously, they followed after him, drifting in his wake, each of them edging closer to him without ever having made a decision on it; as the other sect leaders who were leading the war showed up, they did the same, and by the time the usual pleasantries had concluded and the meeting was about to start, Nie Mingjue could barely turn around without nearly bumping into someone who had drifted too close.

Lan Xichen really ought to tell them to stop – he was the courier, the connection between the sects, familiar with each and every one of them – but he found himself instead abusing his position and his history as Nie Mingjue’s old friend to finagle a place at his right side, just behind his shoulder, and just stood there, his eyes half-lidded as he basked in the feeling. It was a little like really good meditation, he thought, the type that centered you and grounded you, let you be steady and hold your ground, come what may.

As the general, Nie Mingjue opened the meeting, running through the usual updates – he was short and to the point as always, which invariably made these meetings run significantly better because after a start like that even the most long-winded and shameless of old men felt a bit constrained to keep their words within the realm of the reasonable. After he finished detailing their current positions, the Wen sect’s latest moves and his predictions on their next, certain counters he planned to use – all at a very high level of generality, of course, in the event of spies – Nie Mingjue looked around, frowning a little: they had been all listening with surprising quietude, not a single objection or comment among them the way there usually was.

“Is there any other business?” he asked.

One of the leaders of a smaller sect – Sect Leader Ouyang – visibly shook himself and coughed. “The…scourge?”

“Scourge?” Nie Mingjue scowled. “What scourge? Has there been a greater than usual resurgence of evil creatures? What type? Why was I not informed?”

Lan Xichen looked at his old friend as though seeing him for the first time, as though abruptly realizing that your old familiar pillow was in fact a wonderous treasured pearl to be held carefully in one’s hand.

“It’s dream-eaters,” Jiang Cheng said, sounding blank and surprised. “The sort that cause nightmares...you know the type, surely? Common enough and usually fairly harmless, but there’s a whole lot of them and they’re breeding faster than we can kill them – not unless we devote ourselves just to the task, which we can’t do. Has - has the Nie sect not suffered from this affliction?”

“No,” Nie Mingjue said, frowning, and he seemed oddly discomforted, the reason for which he immediately revealed: “In fact, I’ve never seen a dream-eater. They’re not common in Qinghe, I think.”

That was impossible, of course – dream-eaters were notorious for being a pest that could be found anywhere, no matter what the climate or terrain; it was a little like saying that your household had never known a rat.

Although, Lan Xichen supposed, one could see such a statement being made by the single household in the village possessed of a cat…

“That was one of the main reasons I wanted to have this meeting,” he said, clearing his throat. He had told most of the sect leaders that it would be on the agenda, but he hadn’t had time to meet with Nie Mingjue, nor had he needed to – as the general, Nie Mingjue’s presence was a necessity, and so Lan Xichen had known that he would be there and had assumed (incorrectly, it seemed) that he would obviously want to devote some time to the issue. “It has been a rise in the number of such creatures, and yet we cannot divert attention from our frontline. Surely there must be some solution?”

“If it’s so severe, then we could strike a balance,” Nie Mingjue said, looking relieved at the possibility of turning the discussion onto the practical. “Those sects in regions with less ongoing strife could send teams to other fronts specifically to aid in eliminating the dream-eaters –”

“How has Qinghe Nie not suffered from the affliction?” The person interrupting was one of the sect leaders affiliated with Lanling Jin, even though Jin Zixuan turned and glared death at him. “Whatever can be said about dream-eaters in Qinghe, Hejian certainly doesn’t lack them, or at least it never has before. If there is some means of resisting them, it ought to be shared.”

That particular sect leader had arrived late and was seated relatively far back; perhaps he was out of range of Nie Mingjue, and hadn’t noticed – or perhaps, and more likely, he was simply being obnoxious and looking for an opportunity to snatch up whatever talisman Nie Mingjue was using to relieve the effects of the dream-eaters for Lanling Jin’s benefit. As if they had some greater claim to it, when they were doing the least of the fighting..!

“I haven’t seen them,” Nie Mingjue said, his face black with annoyance that Lan Xichen knew was merely a cover for embarrassment. “Not even in Hejian.”

Nie Huaisang giggled behind his fan. “That’s not your fault, da-ge,” he said. “They run away when they see you coming. Isn’t that right, Xiaochun-shushu?”

Eyes turned to the man standing by Nie Mingjue’s side – one of the Nie sect commanders – who looked a little awkward to be put on the spot, shifting his weight and clearing his throat. “To the extent it has been an issue at any of our outposts, we usually ask the Sect Leader to check in on morale, which generally resolves the issue,” he said circumspectly, and Nie Mingjue looked minorly outraged at the suggestion that his entire sect apparently used him as a way to ward off a creature usually classified as a minor pest. Without telling him, no less.

“So the effect is not caused by a talisman or spiritual instrument?” Sect Leader Yao asked, looking disappointed. “Nothing that can be duplicated?”

“What effect?” Nie Mingjue asked.

“Perhaps we could ask Sect Leader Nie to visit some of the other territories?” another sect leader suggested.

“And risk Hejian? Don’t be ridiculous,” Jiang Cheng said, though he looked sorely tempted.

“What effect?” Nie Mingjue asked again.

“I wonder if the Wen sect is suffering to the extent we are,” Wei Wuxian said thoughtfully, spinning his flute in his hand. “We have some prisoners of war, don’t we? They might be inclined to share more information if they were a little more relaxed. Don’t you think?”

“Especially following a state of heightened distress,” Jin Zixuan said, nodding. “The relief will be much more pronounced, which could lower their defenses –”

“Maybe we could even get –”

“Xichen,” Nie Mingjue hissed in his ear as the debate began in earnest, each sect leader rushing forward to add in their views. “What are they talking about?”

Lan Xichen looked helplessly at Nie Huaisang who scuttled over. “It’s the dream-eaters, da-ge,” he said in an undertone. “Sustained exposure. People get tired, cranky, irritable; their cultivation is weakened, their focus impaired…they become simultaneously less sensitive to certain things, like social niceties, and more sensitive to other things. Like a feeling of steadiness and reliability.”

“…so?” Nie Mingjue said.

“So a lot of people are noticing for the first time that you’re very – uh – grounding.”

“Grounding,” Nie Mingjue said skeptically. “Like…a lightning rod?”

It wasn’t quite the metaphor Lan Xichen would have gone with.

“It’s always like this?” he asked Nie Huaisang, fascinated, and Nie Huaisang nodded. “Why didn’t I notice?”

“You probably noticed subconsciously?” Nie Huaisang guessed. “People like being around da-ge, even when they don’t like him. Anyway, you’re usually very steady yourself, Xichen-gege –” Nie Mingjue sighed at his brother’s rudeness. “– so you probably didn’t notice that you were feeling even more so. In our sect, you’ll find parents coming by to drop off their kids next to da-ge; they follow him like a flock of ducklings, it’s the only thing that keeps them quiet…”

“I thought they just liked watching me train?”

“I mean, they like that, too, da-ge, I’m sure. But mostly people just feel safe when you’re around.”

Safe. Yes, that was what it felt like, calm and safe and secure, like there was a rock-solid foundation to the world that nothing could tear down; like even if Nie Mingjue were at the end of his rope, he would still do everything he could not to let you down.

“It’s very nice,” Lan Xichen said.

Nie Mingjue was pinching the bridge of his nose. “Huaisang,” he said. “If this is such a common phenomenon, why didn’t anyone tell me about it?”

“To be honest, we were a little worried that it’d go away if anyone pointed it out to you,” Nie Huaisang said. “Apparently not. Good!”

“This is ridiculous. I’m a sect leader, a front-line fighter, a general…I can’t go traipsing around fighting dream-eaters. We have a war to fight!”

“People fight better if they can sleep,” Nie Huaisang said wisely, and Lan Xichen nodded in firm support. Lan Wanji had drifted over at some point and looked to now be sleeping standing up, which was practically an endorsement as well. “Anyway, I think the idea of gathering people up to go deal with the problem is a good one, and anyone who’s really desperate for a good night’s rest can trade over to fight in Hejian for a while. That’ll keep your forces fresh, encourage the circulation of people and the development of relationships between the various sects, and you’ll have the chance to get a good look at who’s actually competent or not while they fight directly under you.”

“Hmm, true,” Nie Mingjue said, and Lan Xichen had to agree – it wasn’t a bad idea at all. Maybe it was the fact that Nie Huaisang was the only one of them who’d gotten any sleep that had allowed him to be the one to suggest it.

“And of course, best of all, as long as our side is getting relief and the Wen sect isn’t…”

“Oh, all right,” Nie Mingjue said. “I still think this is ridiculous, and I’m having some difficulty believing that I really give off some sort of – sleep field, or whatever.”

“You do,” Lan Xichen said. “In fact, I may propose that we break up the meeting temporarily to allow everyone to take a brief nap.”

“We are not doing that,” Nie Mingjue said. “We’re not toddlers.”

“We should do that,” Lan Wangji said, opening his eyes.

Wei Wuxian’s head turned at the sound of Lan Wangji’s voice. “Do what?”

“Break up the meeting for everyone to take a nap and return with steadied nerves and calmer minds,” Nie Huaisang said.

“We should definitely do that,” Wei Wuxian said, and nudged Jiang Cheng. “Hey, Jiang Cheng, how do you feel about everyone in the room taking a nap before we continue discussing the war?”

“That is the best idea I’ve ever heard,” Jiang Cheng said.

“You’re not serious,” Nie Mingjue said. “You cannot be serious right now.”

“Oh, we are very serious,” Lan Xichen said, and cleared his throat, waving for people’s attention. “Everyone, in light of the scourge of dream-eaters we’ve all been struggling with over the past few weeks, I have a suggestion…”

#mdzs #nie mingjue #lan xichen #lan wangji #nie huaisang #jiang cheng #wei wuxian #my fic #my fics #dream-eaters #ebonykain

271 notes · View notes