#(for the integrity of my knee if nothing else. my knee is.. not feeling great. which is not ideal because i’m going to pride soon haaaaaaaa

[fingertipsmp3]

Today has been a productive day :)

[recitedemise]

He knows how to keep a secret. As well, too, Gale's felt that blistering urgency to veil his scars. Few would grant them their kindness, and few would lend them their words, and fewer still, cruelly few, would temper their ruin when their hearts half-trembling would near their break. This renders it theirs, their blistering horrors like some burdensome tomb. Yet, Gale knows her conviction, that quavering desire to nurse pain alone, for none, he has thought, should blister in his name. None here alive should heft this coffin. He's a danger, a monster lurking ugly in his bones, and none who draws breath would deserve its teeth and clawing. None should be a pallbearer, not for his hurts.

But then, don't they deserve it, a passing glimmer of sympathy? He knows what it's like, her presence felt as he charms the water with a quaint heating spell. It isn't sustainable, truly, to clamor on stubbornly with a box for the dead. His knees are trembling and his muscles yowl, and soon enough, his spirit would surrender like the turning of the seasons. They aren't made to suffer, but they surely seem resigned to.

...even if their souls so crave connection.

 (Bury it, they tell themselves. Ensure that it's the concern of nobody else.)

"A valiant effort, certainly, but lest you forget, you're in the company of one Gale of Waterdeep. You'd have to do a great deal better than that to pull a fast one on me. I could believe that attempt an insult...but I'll take it in stride." How generous. Distantly, the rest of the party has begun to prepare themselves for slumber. Karlach's chattering could be heard, and mingled in there, Astarion is muttering, something blasé, dramatic, but utterly casual. There's worry on Wyll's part, and a staple pragmaticism on their darling Sharran, but as far as Gale's concerned, the whole of their party sounds relatively normal--a bit stunned, perhaps, but nothing so egregious. Lae'zel says something, and Gale picks up a vial as she does so. He catches Dronia in the glass, rotating it a touch to catch her face, and despite the blood and her glowing, gleaming eyes, she, stood there, seems so small. "With as much flattery as I can muster, you work yourself not unlike a rothé. You could set out and accomplish everything that would ever need doing, and by the end of it, you'll go scouring for more with which to lose yourself in. No rest for the wicked, so goes the saying. Or in your case, anyway, for those not quite."

Like an escape, perhaps. Ah. He wonders if that's partly what it's become to her. The harder she works, perhaps the farther from reality she can place herself. She hardly wants sleep, deigns to rest when he himself would buckle to his knees, and now knowing what she is, he can't honestly blame her. Imagine: the nightmares she must see. And the memory of turning. He hasn't her story in much the same manner that she hasn't his own, but between them both, something great and integral feels to shift. Like? Another chapter in their friendship. A bond of greater profundity. "Much happens in a month. Far be it from me to assume the desires of our wayward party, but I wager we're in no rush to be lost to you either." Right. They're all rather stuck. Survival, even doomed as he so feels, is what brings them together, cording them up tighter than he knows. Gale's gentle, facing Dronia as the heated water wafts behind him. It's glistening, cajoling her into its comforting depths. He invites her to take it, his smile layered and patient. "It's humbling, losing all that which was so difficult in the obtaining. Few prospects are more daunting than to stand there so profoundly bare. All the same, it's with certainty that I declare myself all the more approving of the image before me. I'm inclined to agree. You have kept your heart regardless of your story. One day soon, I should like you to see yourself in the way that I would. You have glimpsed beyond my hungers, and you would accept me regardless." He breathes, orb pulsing a twinge beneath his skin. "It gives me no small amount of joy to show you the same. We all need someone. Now. I do believe it's time for you take a well deserved respite. You've your choice among my soaps and oils. It's a luxury I reserve for an exclusive few."

Amazing how these damn little parasites can shatter the most carefully curated mask. A brave face, braver and wiser words to accompany it, and a sure stance. Shoulders squared and eyes on an uncertain future and a path to salvation. But every little vision that crossed their minds, the death, oh the death, the terror and grief she felt upon waking that first morning, all laid painfully bare, it grows obvious that the brave face was a front she'd worn for months now. She sharpened her fear and weaponized it to help her friends all at the detriment of her own mental health. Never once did she open up about her own grief, the survivor's guilt that ate at her, or the dark thoughts that muddied her mind. Thoughts that maybe she should have shared the same fate as the rest of the village. All of it was hidden so carefully behind a facade of bravery and leadership.

But no more. The mask slipped.

Her heart is still pounding against her ribs, violent and shaking like it is rattling the bars of a cage. These fucking tadpoles pulling out things she's worked so hard to keep repressed. She blinks, once, twice, three times. Seeing Gale's reaction, sorrow on his face reflecting her own, the poor man only got a taste of what she carries in her heart every moment of every day. She can't even find peace behind closed eyelids.

What a curse to have no peace.

As Gale shields her shivering and scared visage from the others, her features soften a touch, as much as they can behind a thick coat of blood and glowing red eyes. Hardly a soft visage at all when there is something so inherently wild about her. One of Mielikki's beasts: the ultimate hunter and a scared girl all in one. "My father taught me that control of the body is one of our greatest strengths. If we can master that, we can master anything. Loss of that could mean death. How could I rest when there was so much to do?" When rest meant her thoughts returned to that night? She nods, meekly, glancing past his shoulder to the others to see if they still cast those stares at her. Moving with Gale, she slowly stands, trying to regain the strength in her knees. "A guide needing a guide... it's an amusing thought. Thank you, friend."

Even after she nearly attacked him, he still believes in her. Hopefully, he has enough of that belief for both of them. "That's reassuring. It's hard to feel good about myself right now." How utterly understated.

Between Gale and Karlach, she starts to doubt her own assurances that she is just a simple hunter. Humble as her beginnings were, she's gotten them this far, leading them to victory and survival. Maybe she is more than the simple hunter and guide she puts herself out there as, she undersells herself because she was raised to be humble. As they make their way back to the camp, she can feel the eyes of the other companions resting on her, the mess she's in, those eyes glowing. She doesn't speak on it, she only makes eye contact with Karlach, a silent statement that she will need company later, but for now Gale is taking the helm. "With all the weird things that have happened to us, I wouldn't be surprised if other Gods now watch us with great interest. But, you're right, that is far more your domain than mine. I think I prefer faith in our current company, as you said." It's funny, Mielikki's hand felt like it guided her hunts more than ever, but it feels like the other gods she had paid tribute to felt more distant. Especially Tymora. As Gale prepares a bath, she simply stands there, arms wrapping around herself in an attempt to soothe herself and calm her heart. It felt like such a terrible thing lately, it felt far too much too often and broke constantly. "For a while, before I met any of you, my heart was all I had left. Barely a month had passed since I lost everything before the Nautiloid took me." She quiets for a moment, "I can't lose everything a second time. Strange as a group we are, you've all become family to me."

[c-rose2081]

Starchild || 12. Control

(Disney Z-O-M-B-I-E-S)

—

—

-

With how well everything had been going, Zed should’ve known it was all going to fall apart sooner rather then later.

His plan to keep A-ddison hidden in Seabrook was working far better than he ever expected. She had reunited with her Mom, and was living on the other side of the z-fence. No one seemed to suspect anything from her, and she was becoming more adept at hiding herself amongst the human population. Everything was smooth sailing…which should’ve been Zed’d first clue that something bad was bound to happen any day.

That day came on Friday.

With the thoughts of a promised shopping trip with Mayor Wells and A-ddison on his mind for that weekend, Zed almost forgot about what he’d been dealing with before the UFO ever landed in Seabrook. His z-band wasn’t strong enough to hold back his zombie urges anymore. It was ok during practices when he barely ever broke a sweat, but tensions were high out on the field. Eastside was an aggressive team, and Seabrook’s greatest rivals. Zed knew it was going to be a long, rough game. And he was worried about what would happen.

Eliza was good enough to bring her laptop and monitor his vitals, but there wasn’t much she could do if things went wrong. Zed wished Addy was with him, that always seemed to make him feel more like himself. But she was with Bree getting her uniform fitted, and prepping for her first official football game as a Seabrook Cheerleader. If anything good came out of tonight, it would be seeing A-ddison in one of those beautiful pink and white skirts. Shaking his head, Zed groaned and felt heavy in his padding. He tapped a foot against the locker room’s plastic flooring, worrying himself into a tailspin. He could try to play without the hacking, but he wasn’t as strong or adept that way. They needed every player at their best against Eastside, including him. In fact, the team was practically riding on him to push them through. It felt like he was pulling a train behind him. Just leave it all to Zed; he can carry everything.

“…Zed?”

Glancing up from behind his hand, Zed sat up as a pair of blue eyes peeked around the corner of lockers.

“A-ddison? You’re not supposed to be here,” he whispered, “this is the guys locker room.”

“I know, but everyone else is already out there except you,” she said, “are we alone?”

“Yeah.”

“Good,” she released her disguise, letting her tail fall and antennae lift up out of her hairline. The facial markings appeared across her skin, glowing faintly white. As she stepped fully out into the dim lighting, Zed pursed his lips and exhaled heavily. She was all dressed up in her new uniform, “what do you think?”

“You look great,” he croaked, mouth suddenly dry as a desert.

“I’m a little nervous to cheer in front of so many people,” A-ddison admitted to him, taking a few steps closer and sitting on the bench beside him, “you look a bit nervous, too. Are you alright?”

“It’s nothing,” Zed huffed, “don’t worry about it.”

“You know, I don’t have to ask permission to find out what’s on your mind,” she mumbled, rolling her fingers against the wood beneath her hand, “please tell me?”

Zed frowned again, slumping over his knees.

“I have to hack my z-band in order to win football games,” he told her finally, lifting his wrist to show off the bracelet, “I’ve been doing it for almost four years, since I was a Freshman.”

“Isn’t that dangerous?” A-ddison puzzled, “Eliza told me the z-band kept you human.”

“It’s supposed to,” Zed confirmed, “but mine isn’t as strong as it used to be. It can keep me human when I’m not all stressed out. But on that football field, I just…I get so rialed up. It’s hard to control it.”

“Can’t you just get a new one?”

“I could. But I’d lose the ability to play Football. And Football is how Zombies got here in the first place. I win games, Zombies got integrated into society. It’s important.”

“But you’re important too, Zed,” A-ddison whispered, looking awfully concerned as she leaned up against his arm, “sounds like a life of servitude to me.”

“It feels like it,” Zed agreed, grunting as he got to his feet, “I should probably get out there. The Game is about to start.”

“I’ll be cheering for you,” Addy told him, accepting his hand as she was pulled to her feet as well, “good luck. And please be careful?”

“I’ll try,” Zed nodded, picking up his helmet. His undead heart was racing; Addy was beginning to turn away, “A-ddison, hold on.”

“Hm?”

Zed hesitated for a moment. He didn’t have to do this — it would shatter any hope of them staying ‘just friends’. But he wanted to so badly. So, stepping forward, Zed leaned in and kissed her. On the lips. Properly. It sent a thousand volts through him, like he had just kissed a power pole. But she deepened the embrace, pulling him closer by the front of his uniform. Zed ran a hand through her hair, feeling the electric charge between the strands. He was now fully aware that A-ddison wasn’t lying about being made of pure energy. He could feel it thrumming through him.

As they pulled away, A-ddison cradled his cheek with her hand. She ghosted it up his jawline, running a thumb across the lower half of his eye socket.

“That was a very convincing show of affection,” she sputtered out, two pitches higher than normal as he grinned at her.

“You’ve kissed me twice,” he insisted, “I just had to return the favor.”

“You’re going to be late,” Addy laughed, giving him a shove towards the exit. He could see her blushing, tail wrapping tightly around her leg and squeezing the skin, “go, Zed.”

And he did. The run and skip out onto the field had nothing to do with the bleachers cheering his name, or the signs and posters asking for his autograph. It had to do with the excitement rushing through his veins. He had kissed A-ddison, actually kissed her, and she had kissed him back. And yeah it totally blew ‘just friends’ out of the water, but he wasn’t mad about it. In fact, he was charged. It was enough to carry him all the way through the first half without a single incident.

Unfortunately, Eastside didn’t take getting totally pummeled very well.

The second half was far more aggressive and mean spirited. Multiple players on both sides of the field were carted off with injuries. Zed began to feel the stress of the game weigh on him as Seabrook’s lead began to dwindle. He relied on his strength to break through lines like paper ribbons. Zed thought he would be able to make it through. He wanted to make it. But than Eastside began to target his players. Heads down, charging full speed with the crowns of their helmets. No calls made by the refs as his guys began to get pulled out one by one.

The anger in him was bubbling, and his desire for flesh began to rise. He just wanted to rip one of the other guys arms off to see how they liked it. He could absolutely tear them apart, and use their bones as toothpicks. His stomach grumbled. His z-band alarm began to chime. But another one of his players fell, clutching his leg in pain as Eastside celebrated with chest bumps and high-fives.

Anger.

Anger.

Hunger.

Bite.

Now.

Zed lost grip on it. He felt the change instantly. He wanted to eat. And he wanted it now. Tearing off his helmet, his z-band was sparking from the stress. There was screaming all around him, not screams of excitement, but screams of fear. He roared in irritation, beginning to make his way up the field towards the nearest meal. He could get to the meaty flesh inside the padding like one might open a lobster tail. Fresh, tender, athletic meat. Brains. Blood.

Zed began to tread faster. There were bodies all over the field, it was hard to choose which one to go for. So many options.

“Zed!”

He heard his name, but couldn’t stop. He didn’t even know who it was calling for him, just that they smelled…different. Not human. What was that? “Zed! You have to stop!”

His brain recognized the voice, but his urges were too strong. He lashed out with a hand at whomever was close to him. There was a yelp of pain, and a scramble. The scent of blood reached his nose, and he turned to it. Starving. Hungry. She was sprawled on the ground, staring up at him with gigantic, panicked blue eyes.

Stop.

Zed, stop!

He couldn’t. He couldn’t stop, because he was just so hungry. He reached for her; she moved. But her scent was all over him, and he was intoxicated by it. He wanted it.

“Zed, stop it! This isn’t you!”

He roared at her, once again lashing out with his arm. He missed, as she was slippery and small. But the side of her uniform was coated with blood. A wounded lamb couldn’t evade him for long. He was expecting her to run away, but she didn’t. She actually got closer, and between one second and the next she had both hands grabbing onto his head. He moved to close his arms around her; to take a nice big bite.

BANG!

The shock that vibrated through his head was deafening. It rolled over him, causing his muscles to spasm, and his arms to fall. He stopped.

*Zed! Listen to me!*

She was in his head. She was talking directly through the bleary zombie haze. To him. To Zed…football star, high schooler.

*Zed! Stop fighting me. Let me help you.*

He wanted her to help him. And so he stopped, and he waited. It felt like his head was submerged in a tub of ice. The scent of fresh blood was still in his nose, but it wasn’t making him hungry anymore. It just made him queasy.

*Come back to me.*

And he was back. Between one heartbeat and the next, he opened his eyes and felt sure of where he stood. A-ddison was still clinging onto his head, but she was breathing hard. Her new uniform was shredded up the ribs, revealing three large gouges in her skin. He had done that.

“…no,” he croaked, realizing what he had done.

“Zed…” Addy choked, “it’s you. You’re here.”

He collapsed to his knees at her feet as she released her grip on him. His head felt ready to explode, but the need to bite was gone. She had made it go away…it felt like she had pushed the urges right out of him. But, in his clouded haze of thoughts, he heard her whimper. She staggered backwards, gripping her side. She was hurt. He had hurt her.

“Addy…” he mumbled, lifting his head to see her image flicker.

“I can’t stay here.”

And then she was gone, sprinting the other way as Zed surged forward after her.

“A-ddison, don’t go!”

But she was already gone. Her figure jumped the fence around the track, and her uniform vanished into the indigo of the forest surrounding the school. His heart twisted. His brain stopped working. Everything hurt, like he had just been put through a meat grinder. Even as z-patrol began to surround him, shouting orders his way, he didn’t hear them. He merely dropped his head into his hands, resting his face on the ground as he wept.

Zed would spend only half a night in z-patrol holding. He wasn’t dangerous anymore. His z-band was working again, almost like it had been shocked back into functioning. Yet he still felt numb. Addy’s electricity had fried him, both mentally, and physically. He still wasn’t sure what she had done to stop him from rampaging. That should’ve been impossible. But than again, so was she. He was released under the context of z-band malfunction — odd, seeing as all z-bands were monitored at all times. But he didn’t question it.

He just got into the van and was taken home. All the while it felt as though he were just going through motions. He sat staring forward at the guards who accompanied him, thinking about his mistake. He still didn’t know where Addy was. Had she returned home to her mom? Was she out in the forest somewhere? Would she come back to him after what he’d done to her?

Zed cringed and left the z-patrol van in silence. He didn’t speak to his dad, or to Zoey. Just patted her head as she hugged him tightly. He went straight upstairs, shedded his football uniform for his hoodie, and fell face first onto the bed. No doubt his shopping trip was shot now. No one would even want to be in his presence. He was a monster, just like he’d always been. And Zed continued to wallow in his self pity till near dawn, when he was woken up by the sound of his window opening.

Lifting his head, Zed wasn’t expecting Wyatt. The wolf didn’t look happy about being in his presence either. He was perched on the interior of the sill, silhouette appearing very much of his monstrous canine heritage.

“Hey. Hey, dead guy,” he said, “get up. We need to move.”

“I’m not following you anywhere,” Zed grumbled back at him, “leave me alone.”

“Do you want to see A-ddison or not?”

That got Zed’s attention. He sat up, forgetting the pain he was in and groaning, “hurry up, old man,” Wyatt insisted, “or I’m leaving without you.”

And so Zed blindly followed. Was it wise to follow a werewolf into the woods? Probably not. But, where Addy was involved, he’d go anywhere. And so Zed kept hot on Wyatt’s heels, slowing down a bit when he realized he wasn’t alone. There were others around him too, watching from the shadows and the trees. They were following them, not fully showing themselves, but keeping an eye on things. Surrounded by wolves on all sides, Zed swallowed thickly as they traveled deeper and deeper into the forest. A mist had fallen during the night, settling on his skin and making it feel cold and slick. The sun was just peeking through the trees when Zed saw the entrance to a large cave.

“You’re a guest here,” Wyatt said flatly, “so show some respect.”

“Right. Respect. Where is here, exactly?”

Wyatt didn’t respond, just huffed as he nodded his head. Zed followed the wolf inside, feeling tons of gazed on him from all around. The cave was massive and naturally carved. There were wolves everywhere; crouched on every ledge, and lounged across every smooth surface. Zed knew where he was now, and felt both surprised and confused.

“Isn’t this the Den?” He asked wearily, “I thought outsiders weren’t allowed here?”

“They aren’t. This is an exception,” Wyatt drawled, “follow me.”

Zed nodded, keeping his eyes trailing around the room. Clearly some of these Wolves hadn’t seen any outsiders before, as they were sizing him up like a hunk of fresh meat. Others he recognized from around Seabrook; those who knew him looked weary, or concerned.

“In here,” Wyatt said, guiding him up some naturally carved stairs and towards a private chamber of the cave, “be very quiet.”

Wyatt lifted a finger to his lips as Zed nodded his agreement, ducking under a cloth curtain which hung in front of the doorway. Inside, it smelled distinctly of cinnamon and other spices. Smoke drifted in the air, breaking up a few pale sunbeams filtering through a dense net slung over a hole in the roof. And, in the middle of the room amongst a pile of fur blankets and coverings, Zed recognized the pale, near white curls.

“A-ddison,” he breathed, passing Wyatt as he fell to the ground beside the furry heap. She had been stripped from her cheer uniform, and Zed could still smell fresh blood nearby. The markings on her skin were glowing brightly against washed out, ashy skin, revealing not just the shapes Zed had come to know, but also stripes down her bare collar and continuing down past the blankets. She looked terrible; and — to Zed’s horror — her veins had gone dark, and were tracing out branch like patterns across the front half of her collar and up her neck, “what’s wrong with her?”

“Poison,”

Zed turned at the new voice, seeing Willa appear from another side cave, “yours.”

“Mine?” Zed croaked, “I did this to her?”

“Not on purpose,” Willa shrugged, holding something in her hand as she descended a short flight of steps, “do you remember what happened?”

“I lost control,” Zed managed, his whole body shaking as he gently ran a hand over A-ddison’s cheek. She was burning up, “I scratched her. You’re saying I poisoned her? Is she…”

“She’ll live, don’t worry,” Willa told him, “she’s already much better than when we brought her here.”

“But how could I have poisoned her?” Zed asked, suddenly very conscious about where his hands were as he took them away from A-ddison’s bare skin, “Zombies don’t poison people.”

“Not humans, maybe. But, she’s not human, is she?”

Zed hesitated, than nodded as Willa came over to him. She held an ornate wooden box in one hand, and a bowl in the other.

“It’s been a long night for her, but she’s fighting it off like a champ. Here, make yourself useful and hold that.”

Willa shoved the bowl of reddish-brown liquid into his hands, kneeling down next to him.

“You’ve been taking care of her all night?” Zed asked, watching the elder werewolf open the box in her hands to reveal a Moonstone necklace.

“She was in our territory,” Willa told him, dipping the necklace into the bowl and coating it till the stone wasn’t visible, “pup would’ve died out there on her own. She wasn’t in good shape.”

“But the pack doesn’t take in outsiders.”

Willa said nothing to that, focusing instead on her task as she gently draped the Moonstone across A-ddison’s neck. This immediately caused her body markings to illuminate even brighter, and the sleeping girl gave a heave of air as though something heavy had been lifted off her chest.

“She reacts to the power of the Moonstone,” Willa said, noticing Zed’s puzzled expression, “we found that out last night. Putting it directly on her skin nearly burned her, so we have to coat it first. It helps her breathe. As for why we took her in…”

“She’s important, that’s why,” Wyatt said, reappearing from inside the cave with a few wet cloths, “here Willa.”

Wyatt passed the items to his sister and plopped down beside Zed.

“What do you mean important?” Zed puzzled, “you don’t even know her.”

“There’s a story, told to all pups by the elder Wolves when we are very young,” Wyatt explained, “it speaks of the arrival of a Great Alpha, a leader with a wolf-heart, who will have pale hair the same color as the moon. She will have the power to unite us Wolves to be stronger then ever before.”

“And…you believe A-ddison is your Great Alpha?” Zed drawled, “Willa? Do you believe this to?”

“I didn’t,” Willa admitted with a shrug, “she’s still just a Pup. But she took you — a Zombie three times her size — down to your knees at the football game. And she nearly took us down in the forest.”

“She did what?” Zed gawked as Willa rolled her eyes.

“Wynter got too close when she was spooked and nearly broke a rib. It took all three of us exhausting her before we could bring her here. That’s what this is for.”

Willa dipped her hand into the bowl, coating her fingers in the Auburn mixture, “muscle relaxant. Helps keep the girl sleeping while she heals.”

“And keeps her from attacking us.” Wyatt chuckled, “it’s what we get for underestimating prey,”

“She’s not prey. And A-ddison wouldn’t attack anyone,” Zed insisted, “she probably felt cornered and was defending herself. I know I would if Werewolves were chasing me.”

“Tell that to poor Wynter,” Willa huffed, shaking her head, “Addison should come out of this relatively soon. I brought you here to make sure you didn’t go rampaging through Seabrook searching for her.”

“Thank you,” Zed nodded, reaching under the blankets to find A-ddison’s hand and squeezing it, “I just…I can’t believe I hurt her, she’ll never forgive me.”

“Don’t be so sure, guy,” Wyatt admitted, “you were the first person she called for before we put her down.”

“She was? She…wasn’t scared of me?”

“Not hardly,” Willa agreed, “you’re welcome to stay if you want. Just don’t touch that Moonstone. I need to go check on Wynter and see how she’s holding up. Pup packs a punch, you know.”

“Oh yeah, I know,” Zed chuckled, reaching for his face and rubbing his jaw, “thanks, Willa. Wyatt.”

“Sure. I’ll be back later to check on her.”

Willa stood and left the room with her bowl, leaving only Wyatt behind.

“You know, if you two don’t work out…” the wolf drawled, only to receive an angry growl from Zed as he lifted both hands, “just kidding, just kidding. I’ll leave you two alone.”

Zed nodded his appreciation, watching Wyatt pass through the curtain and pull it closed behind him. This left the den quiet, with only then noises of the main chamber floating through. A-ddison slept soundly under the fur blankets, chest rising and falling at an easier pace with the Moonstone resting on her chest.

“You are just a world of mystery, aren’t you?” He told her, clutching her hand even tighter and running the flat of his thumb across her limp palm, “I’m so sorry, A-ddison,” he whispered, lip wobbling with the threat of tears, “I’m so, so sorry.”

—

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[adobe-outdesign]

Thoughts on the Tympole line? Seismitoad's been a favorite pokemon of mine for a while and would love to hear your opinions.

Tympole's got a pretty good design, and would also be a good mascot for a headphone company. The colors are nice, and the music/vibration motif is well integrated with the little music note eyebrows. The warts on the side of the head are particularly well done, as they fit with it being a toad tadpole while also resembling headphones, which further ties back into the music theme.

The only thing that I don't care for is that the expression's never sat well with me. Maybe it's solely the eyebrows or maybe the mouth plays a part, but this Pokemon's always looked like it was either anxious or about five seconds away from bursting into tears. Some people might find that endearing I suppose, but it never sat quite right with me. Other than that, though, this is a solid start to the line.

As a side note, I also like how the 'dex entries for this line go over how they use sound as a means of communication, and how the warts' size affect the sounds they produce. Just some nice attention to detail there.

Part of me dislikes Palpitoad for reasons I'll get to in a second, but at the same time part of me just can't bring myself to hate this silly thing. It's a bean with tiny little feel and no arms, and I kind of can't help but like it solely for the sheer ridiculousness of that.

In terms of what bugs me though, i think it's the face. It's just so large and low on the body that it almost looks fake. My instincts want the head of this thing to be right where the top wart is, but instead we have this weird body-face that intersects the markings in a weird way and it just doesn't feel quite right to me. I'm also not big on the wart covering the eyes for reasons I'll get into with Seismitoad.

There are also one or two nitpicky design things I could point out too, such as the tail being white when nothing else on the body is (just make it cream) and the way the spots along the back lack the black lining. That spot on the lower back is especially weird because it adds nothing and wasn't in the original backsprite.

But at the end of the day, it manages to be its own unique Pokemon rather than looking like a blend of its evolution/pre-evo, and frankly that's really all I ask of middle evolutions.

When it comes to Seismitoad, I really like how huge and bulky this guy is. Most of the frog/toad Pokemon are much thinner, so these proportions give it a very unique, toad-esc stature that I dig. The expression and the warts themselves also look great.

So what's not working? Well, I'm not big on the two spots on the head. The way they overlap the eyes actually takes focus off of them, not to mention the weird gap at the back of the head it leaves. More importantly, it's just a shame to lose the headphone motif, as it was well done and a clever way to reflect the vibration theme.

And speaking of the eyes, the red feels like a random choice given that it comes out of nowhere and the rest of the line has regular white eyes. If you wanted to color them that badly, I would've at least gone for a bright yellow, as that would pop more and would tie into the cream color on the pre-evos.

There's also a bit of a consistency problem with the spots again, with the ones on the knees and back randomly lacking the black outlines. Not a deal breaker, but it does feel weird. (As a side note, I've heard some say that the back warts are meant to resemble how some frog/toad species carry their eggs on their backs. I kind of doubt that was intentional, but it's still a nice bonus regardless.

And finally, the elbows feel like they go in just a hair too far, though that's obviously a minor thing.

As a whole, these are some pretty distinct toads with solid designs all around. I just wish the sound theme carried through to Seisimitoad a bit more and that the warts were more carefully placed.

[winterscaptain]

optics.

Aaron Hotchner x Fem!Reader a joyful future fic

a/n: this was so much fun. as always, let me know what you think. especially if you’re on the tag list, reblogs and comments go a long way in making content creators feel loved and keeps us going!

words: 1.05k warnings: language, innuendo, suburban drama

summary: “o, beware, my lord, of jealousy; / it is the green-ey'd monster, which doth mock / the meat it feeds on.” ― william shakespeare, othello. au!september 2012

masterlist | a joyful future masterlist | ajf faq | taglist | what do you want to see next?

You keep your eyes on Jack as he sprints from one end of the soccer pitch to the other, ignoring the other eyes on the sidelines. You refused to buy into the whole “soccer mom” stereotype about the other parents on Jack’s team, but that will broke fast. 

“You’re the coach’s girlfriend, right?” One of the moms, a tall, statuesque blond around Aaron’s age, approaches you from the side. 

You shift your gaze to Aaron, rocking from one side to the other, bent over with his hands on his knees, watching and calling out to the boys on the field. A little smile crosses your face. “Yeah.” 

“Oh. Great. That’s great.” She sounds… almost excited, and you squint at her. 

Before you can say anything, she walks away. 

Weird. 

While you watch, a couple of the moms approach Aaron, one after the other, including the woman who spoke to you. You pick up the happenings quickly after that, realizing they’re all trying to sus you out as their competition. 

Un-fucking-believable. 

He hardly spares them a passing glance, but you can’t kick the burning metal taste in the back of your mouth. 

You can’t hear what they say, but the whispers and the stares are enough for you as it is. 

Jack’s team, of course, wins the game, but you’re more than a little subdued as the three of you get back into the car. 

Aaron reaches across the console and slips his fingers between yours. “You okay?” 

“Mhm.” You glance over at him. “Yep.” 

He spends another second looking at you, a peculiar little frown on his face. There’s a moment where you’re sure he’s going to say something, but Jack interrupts you with a McDonalds request. 

You take the opportunity and turn around, tweaking his cap. “Only if I get to steal your fries.”  

One side of his mouth lifts. “Deal.” 

+++

Later in the afternoon, Aaron corners you in the kitchen while Jack plays his video game in the living room. It’s like that kid is made of energy and attention. 

“What’s going on with you today?” He leans against the counter, crossing his arms. 

You slice apples with care, preparing them for Jack when he comes back in -

You check the clock. 

- eight minutes. 

“I’m fine, Aaron.” 

“No.” He shakes his head and pushes off the fake granite. “Not buyin’ it.” Crossing the kitchen, he drags his fingers along your hip before settling behind you. “Wanna tell me?” 

You sigh and put down the paring knife, setting it beside the plate. 

Aaron, in a move that almost makes you laugh, moves it out of arm’s length without a word. 

“It’s stupid.” 

You can feel him shake his head. “Your feelings aren’t stupid.” 

“It’s just -” You cut yourself off with a huff, heat rising in your cheeks as you realize what you’re about to articulate. “The women. It’s the women - the moms - on the soccer team.” 

Aaron lets you go and rests his backside on the counter beside you, his arms crossed. “Did somebody say something to you?” 

With that tone, you almost wish someone tried you today. He’s in full-protection mode. It’s cute.

“No, no.” You chew on your lower lip for a second. “It’s - They. Ugh.” You drop your head. “I know they’re all just gaming for a shot at you and it really - It really pisses me off, actually.” 

He’s quiet, knowing there’s more to your rant. 

“I mean, one of them came up to me and asked me if I was your girlfriend and she looked so pleased when I said yes and I’m sitting here with a proverbial fucking egg on my face with nothing to say and no ground to stand on because the optics are terrible -”

“Whoa.” Aaron stops you. “Optics?” 

You scoff. “Oh come on. Me, maybe thirty. You - Well. You. And Jack. And I’m sure they all know we work together. And I look like the fucking flavor of the week come in to steal the hottest fucking commodity in the league -” 

Aaron’s forehead crinkles and he takes you by the hands, gently tugging you in front of him. “Slow down. Take a breath.” 

You take exactly one breath, in and out sharp through your nose. 

“Good.” His brown eyes scour your face for a moment before returning to meet your flinty gaze. “I have a couple of questions.” He dips at his knees and pulls you forward by the belt loops, a dimple threatening at his cheek. “May I approach the bench?”

The heat in your chest cools just a touch, and you offer him a wry smile. “Yeah. I guess so.” 

“Have you ever known me to talk about work at all with people I don’t know?” 

You shake your head. 

“Have you ever known me to have a ‘flavor of the month’ hanging off my arm?”

You shake your head. 

“Have you ever known me to respond to any comments regarding my age or yours, even and especially when it arises in critique?”

You shake your head. 

“Have you ever known me to look at anyone - ever - that isn’t you?” 

You shake your head. “I told you it was stupid.” 

He laughs and pulls you into his chest, wrapping his arms around your shoulders. “I love you so much, you know that?” 

“Yeah. I do.” 

Aaron kisses the side of your head. “Good.” 

He leans back to look at you, the back of his fingers brushing against your cheekbone. “And no forty-something, suburban soccer mom could ever be as interesting, as fun, or have as much integrity…” He pokes the center of your chest, soft and playful. “...As you.” 

That makes you smile, and you turn back toward the plate, throwing some carrots next to the apples. “Fuck off, Hotch. You’re getting corny in your old age.”

“Corny? I could swear you said something else…” He places his hands on your waist and presses hot, open-mouthed kisses to your neck. “But maybe I was mistaken.” 

“Maybe I did. With your hearing, you may never know.” 

+++

tagging: @avengersbau @ambicaos @angelsbabey @arganfics @averyhotchner @bwbatta @capricorngf @cevanswhre @crazyshannonigans @criminalsmarts @deagibs @forgottenword @genevievedarcygranger @hotchsflower @hotchslatte @hurricanejjareau @joanofarkansass @kelstark @prentisswrites @little-blue-fishie @lotties-journey-abroad @mandylove1000 @missdowntonabbey @mrs-dr-reid @pan-pride-12 @popped-weasels @quillvine @qvid-pro-qvo @reidingmelodies @reids-mismatchedsocks @roses-and-grasses @shesbiochem4 @ssahotchnerr @ssaic-jareau @ssareidbby @starsandasteroids @stxrrywildflower @sunflowersandotherthings @sunshine-em @teamhappyme @this-broken-band-girl @ughitsbaby @unicorn-bitch @venusbarnes @violet-amxthyst @word-scribbless @writefasttalkevenfaster @zizzlekwum @iconicc @avatarkorraswife @mooneylupinblack @ssworldofsw @nuvoleincielo @kaemarie23 @violentvulgarvolatile @abschaffer2 @ellyhotchner @rousethemouse @baumarvel @reidtomestyles @dreamsonthewall @jhiddles03 @willlemonheadsupremacy @infinity1321 @messyhairday-me @itsalwaysb33nyou @finnologys @hotch-meeeeeuppppp @hothothotchner @happyvol7 @ssa-holmes @mac99martin @ssahotchner99 @triangularroses @vagabond-ing

[miraculouscontent]

A genuine question, but do you have any theories as to why when Marinette is crushing on Adrien she's awkward, stuttering, and almost always anxious (I mean as soon as she started crushing on Adrien that's what happened), while with Luka she's pretty much her regular self?

Because she isn’t actually in love with Adrien; she has a celebrity crush on him.

Love isn’t about stammering or getting weak in the knees at the sight of the person. Love is about being able to be oneself around someone and feeling comfortable around them. That’s why Marinette is “normal” around Luka but “weird” around Adrien.

Many of Adrien's other fangirls act similarly around him to Marinette, with the only difference being that they pursue Adrien directly whereas Marinette is too nervous to approach out of fear.

And to touch on that specifically; with Adrien, Marinette is afraid of being rejected because she’s not good enough. She’ll go on and on about how much of a “disaster” she is, which tends to be associated with her crush on Adrien or her screwing up around him. Her “crush” on Adrien is damaging to her self-esteem.

Marinette in “Gamer”: Um, no no no, I... No, you're so good. I mean, I'm the one who's not good. I mean... I'm lucky, that's all.

Her crush should be making her feel good about herself; it should make her feel loved and respected, which is how Luka makes her feel.

Luka in “Frozer”: Personally, I think a girl like you deserves to feel more like this. (plays a happy tune) And whoever made you feel this way is nothing but a--(plays a bad tune)

Marinette: (giggles) Thanks, Luka.

He made her feel so confident in herself that she almost immediately felt okay asking him to come with her to the ice rink. Heck, in that same episode, Marinette says this about her crush on Adrien:

Marinette: Whenever I talk to him as a friend, I hardly stammer at all. That's a sign right there. Right?

Notice how the show never tries to add a “but...” to that or explain it away; the girls’ argument doesn’t even try to refute it outside of Alya claiming Sunk Cost Fallacy as if that’s a legitimate reason to not give up (it’s not).

For more proof, look at how Marinette talks to/about Adrien:

Marinette in “Copycat” at Adrien’s answering machine: Hey, hot stuff--

-

Marinette in “Animan”: Oh, [Adrien]'s such a—

Alya: Smartie, hottie, suavísimo, yummy-tastic spellbinder?

Marinette: All of the above.

-

Mylène in “Reflekdoll”: Are you okay, Marinette?

Marinette: Yeah, he's too hot— I mean! I'm overheating in here, aren't you?

Look how so many of those are about appearance. It’s about Adrien being attractive. The moment Marinette falls for Adrien in “Origins” is in the atmospheric moment of the umbrella scene where he’s saying nothing and just staring into her eyes while the lighting makes him look all “pretty” (because I’m sorry, her falling for him based on what he says/does makes next to no sense). The reason she has so many pictures of him isn’t even about obsession: it’s about thinking he’s the hottest thing since the sun.

“Captain Hardrock” didn’t do that with Luka. Yes, Marinette initially stammered at Luka because oh no, he’s cute! but then had calmed down after Luka opened up to her and showed her a piece of himself.

Marinette in “Captain Hardrock”: What? Luka? No way! You're being ridiculous! Pff! Sure he's cool and nice and everything... but there's only one statue that drives this compass crazy!

Cool and nice. See that? It’s not, “he’s cute,” or anything shallow like that. Cool and nice are direct compliments that reflect Luka’s personality.

And what about the webisodes; the things that should be able to contain as much detail as possible so there’s no room for error or slip-ups?

Marinette in “Marinette and Adrien”: [Adrien]'s so amazing that I completely freak out every time I talk to him! I mean, seriously…he's super smart, he plays the piano, he's a great fencer, he speaks Chinese, and he's so cute too!

“Smart” is the closest thing to anything personality-based (but is also something forced onto him by Gabriel because he has to get good grades); anything else is just something he does or - again - how attractive he is.

Marinette: Adrien is a model for his father, Gabriel Agreste, the best fashion designer in Paris, and probably the world. But he never brags about it, because he's perfect!

One would think we’d be getting somewhere with “he’s humble,” but then Marinette slaps on “perfect;” you know, that line that “Lies” seemed to reject from Kagami as if it’s like how dare you think that the boy we constantly portray as perfect isn’t actually perfect?

Marinette then goes on to say that Adrien’s “major flaw” is that he gets along with Chloe, but where did that lead in the show? Adrien scolding her and making her feel bad about herself for being happy that her bully is gone, because Marinette can’t feel like she’s more right than him because he’s “perfect.” He just makes her feel inadequate.

And the “perfect” line isn’t restricted to webisodes:

Marinette in “Reflekdoll”: Huh? Uh, sure! You're perfect— I mean, it's perfect!

-

Aspik in “Desperada”: I hope I don't disappoint you, Ladybug.

Ladybug: I know you won't. You're perfect--uh, perfectly capable of defeating Desperada!

And she’s fawned before over how amazing Adrien’s life is, even without the webisodes. Literally the episode that last aired (”Lies”) had Marinette sighing over Adrien and talking nothing more about him than how amazing his life is; nothing about his personality.

It’s not about Adrien; it’s about her being starstruck by his attractiveness and how much of a celebrity he is with all these things he was forced to be taught (meaning they’re not a part of his character that he wanted; he was forced to do them in one way or anything) and how incredible being him/his girlfriend must be. Even when she calls him “nice,” one has to recognize that Adrien has to put up a polite image. Look at the difference between Adrien and Chat Noir, the latter of whom has a mask of anonymity to work with? Adrien the nice guy suddenly becomes Chat Noir the “Nice Guy.”

Now, for comparison, let’s go back to the webisodes and see what Marinette has to say about Luka:

Marinette in “Luka as seen by Marinette”: You know, Luka is my friend Juleka's brother and one of the most talented people I know.

We start off with the “talent” thing again, but Luka’s talent for music is something he chose; it’s a part of him that he’s passionate about. That’s a huge difference.

Let’s continue.

Marinette: He also proved himself a great hero when Ladybug gave him the Snake Miraculous.

Marinette: But the thing I find most impressive about him is the way he can always tell how people are feeling.

Marinette: I may not be as intuitive as he is--

Heroic. Empathetic. Intuitive.

Those are character traits. They are integral pieces to Luka’s personality, and they bring Marinette comfort. She’s normal around Luka because their romance is normal: two people who love each other and just make each other happy.

In an age where media makes romance all about characters turning to mush or losing themselves around the person they love, Lukanette ends up feeling real specifically because it doesn’t do that.

Lukanette is as it should be: Marinette and Luka are friends first, crushes second. Their first priority is the relationship aspect that’s devoid of romance, which is why Marinette honestly considers her feelings for Luka in “Frozer” instead of blindly jumping in whereas Luka respects Marinette’s agency and simply assures her that he’ll be there for her no matter what.

[superhero--imagines]

Part 1 Here! / Part 2 Here!

A/N: I think The next post will be the last one for this series!

“Did you...have fun tonight?” The way Dick haltingly asks causes laughter to bubble out of your mouth

“I can say that was nothing like any family dinner I’ve ever seen-“

And if that isn’t the truth, for one - even though you’ve heard of all of Bruce Wayne’s adopted children, you didn’t think there would be so many.

Dick’s the oldest, well officially anyway. Barbara Gordon, as in Commissioner Gordon’s daughter, was at dinner too. Apparently she and Dick had a brief stint where they dated. You’re guessing it was before Dick realized he likes boys - or maybe he likes both? You’ve never expressly asked him about using sexuality.

He’s got three little brothers, the youngest and the second oldest seem to have the highest predisposition towards violence, mostly to each other. And then the second youngest, Tim, he seems to be barely held together, mostly through caffeine and anxiety.

Cassandra from class was there too, as well as Stephanie, which was nice to see. They ducked out halfway through, which should have been your queue to duck out too.

Unfortunately you didn’t, which resulted in a rather poorly placed tomato soup stain at the edge of your dress’s hem.

“I like your brothers though” you say with a smile. You did like his brothers. The youngest, Damian, stared at you for seven very long minutes, before saying-

“How do you feel about animals?” When you told him you loved them he seemed pleased. Also, as a college student, you vibe with Tim. Though you do think someone should cut him off and have him switch to herbal tea. Jason seems cool enough, he just looked at you for a second before giving Dick a wolffish grin.

“Alfred was nice too, and it was fun seeing your- uh...Bruce again” You almost called Bruce his Dad. Bruce is nice, but he’s still a bigot. It was nice meeting Alfred, who showed you many pictures of a nine year old Dick Grayson, most of which were him doing acrobatics around the house. Honestly you thought it was adorable, but you put an end to it since Dick was blushing so fiercely that you thought he might combust.

It really was a lot of fun.

You shiver, the cold night air brushing against your bare arms. You’re standing in front of your building, saying your final goodbyes until you scamper off to your apartment, getting ready for another week of classes.

“Here, take my jacket-“ He’s already tugging it off. Before you can protest, it’s settled over your shoulders. The effect is almost instant, tendrils of warmth seeping into your shoulders and upper body.

It smells like him, you think.

Like- like his expensive cologne, with notes of amber and moss- but also like soap, like clean laundry, and something else, something sweet.

“Cotton Candy” You murmur to yourself. He probably eats it by the gallon sized bag , you think with a giggle.

“T-thank you-“ your eyes trail from the sleeve of his suit jacket to Dick, who’s got a pink tint fanning across his face, blue eyes flicking from the ground to your eyes.

“Thank you for coming with me tonight, and being so kind and considerate and lovely” and then Dick does something completely unexpected, he leans in closer and presses a kiss to your forehead. Your heart leaps in your chest, his sickly sweet Cotten candy scent floods your senses.

You would just have to tilt you head up slightly to catch his lips in yours. He smells so sweet, it almost makes you dizzy. It’s like being drunk, you think.

You want to smell him more.

“Thank you for being so accepting.” His words are like a bucket of cold water being dumped over your head. You feel like you’ve sobered right up.

“Of course, we’re friends aren’t we?” You offer Dick a smile, but you know it’s probably strained. You were so caught up in the moment, you forget he’s already in love with someone.

All of his feelings, all of his kisses, they’re reserved for Nightwing.

“I’ll see you in class tomorrow” You call out, before walking into your building, feeling Dick’s lingering

So you like Dick.

F*ck.

You’re on the balcony of your apartment, nursing a glass of hot tea in the late night- or would it be early hours of the morning? You can make out the sky beginning to lighten into a lighter blue. Great so you stayed up all night thinking about your feelings.

Your body is going to love you for this.

How did this even happen? Were you just so focused on not getting a crush on either of his sisters that you didn’t see this coming. Ugh why dick of all people? Yeah, sure he’s got those sparkly eyes, and that permanent rosy blush, not to mention that lopsided grin-

Okay so you know why you’re falling in love with him. But there’s no point in nursing these blooming feelings not when-

“Hey do you have any sugar?” The masked crusader asks from beside you. That dazzling smile that makes people everywhere swoon aimed at you.

No point in nursing feelings for Dick, when the object of his affections is standing next to you, drinking earl grey out of your pink “Namaste in bed” mug.

“Or not- no big deal, I love my hot leaf juice with or without sugar.” He adds hastily, taking a loud sip as if to show you how much he’s enjoying your hospitality. You must have let your annoyance get to your face. You sigh, it’s not his fault that Dick loves him.

You’re the outsider here.

“So what are you doing out so late?” You ask, just wanting to make some small talk. But Nightwing lights up like you just offered him a million dollars. He’s so friendly it’s almost annoying, not unlike another certain dark haired golden boy you know.

“I’m always up, fighting crime, patrolling the streets-“ you never realized but being a vigilante is kind of a lot of work huh? You wonder if Nightwing has a day job, he looks so young though- maybe he’s still in school.

“The real questions is why are you still up?” His question is punctuated with a slurp of his tea.

“Just thinking I guess” you shrug, taking a sip of your own tea. You’re not about to tell Nightwing you realized you have feelings for his boyfriend.

“Thinking about the person you love?” It feels like you were just struck by an arrow. Nightwing’s mouth stretches. “No way, I was right?” You can almost picture the sparkle in his eyes behind his domino mask. You wonder what color eyes Nightwing has.

Probably a boring brown.

“Well who’s the lucky individual?” Noting your hesitance, Dick starts to get a little nervous. It hurts a little to think you don’t return his feelings. But there’s something about the shy look on your face, the way your eyes avert to your cup of tea, that’s just hopelessly adorable. What he wouldn’t give to have you look at him that way.

And then, a terrifying thought occurs to Dick.

“Don’t tell me you’re in love with Bruce Wayne?” He’s got absolutely no chance if you’re into older men. No unless you’re willing to wait ten years or so.

Then the most amazing thing happens- your mouth opens and laughter spills out. He’s heard you laugh, but never like this. So loud, and almost desperate.

And then, you do something else he’s never seen before. Somewhere along the way those loud laughs transformed into equally loud sobs. Your mouth pinched tight as tears spill from the corners of your eyes.

A hand curls over your eyes in an attempt to cover your face. This is mortifying, you’re basically crying in front of your romantic rival, completely vulnerable.

You’re about to mutter out an excuse, how you’re not usually like this, that you must be close to your period or something. When you feel a pair of arms wrap around your shoulder, your face pressed against Nightwing’s chest.

“It’s okay, everything’s going to be okay” he murmurs reassuringly, his glove covered hand rubbing soothing circles into your back. And even though you were on the edge of recompsure, you’re thrust back into despair. Your sobs leaving you almost breathless as Nightwing continues to hold you.

“Tell me what’s wrong, so I can help” Dick whispers. Whatever it is, it must be serious. He’s never seen you cry, not when you were a hostage in that bank robbery, or held at gun point at that restaurant, not even when Damian was basically integrating you all night.

“I love someone, who’s never going to love me back” you manage between sobs, and Nightwing only shushes you. His hand traveling to your hair. Cradling your head against his chest.

He smells so good, like amber and moss, and something sickeningly sweet- like cotton candy.

He smells like Dick.

And that seems to soothe you a bit, along with Nightwing’s gentle warmth.

“Don’t worry, everything’s going to be fine, I promise”

“Man, and I thought things were going really well between you guys” Stephanie says, her hand threading through her golden curls, head tilting back so it rests against the back of his couch.

“Yeah, me too” Dick admits with a sigh, he’s sitting with his knees propped up on the floor, his back against the wall.

Cassandra doesn’t say anything, her eyes are trained on the coffee table, their masks collectively strewn across it.

“So what are you going to do?” Stephanie asks, and Dick sighs again.

“What can I do honestly, they love someone else” he shrugs, he plays it off like it’s not a big deal. But the thought of your with someone else... it makes his stomach hurt.

“Just because she loves someone else right now...doesn’t mean she will forever” Those are the first words Cass has uttered all night, and Dick and Stephanie are both looking at her with wide eyes.

Stephanie’s already hyping him up, saying there’s no way their Dick’s going to lose to some no-face-extra, like your love is some sort of competition to be won.

And Cassandra’s only encouraging her, with energetic nods and the occasional ‘exactly’

But all Dick can think about is the way you felt in his arms, and how small you seemed as sobs wracked through your entire body. How deep your sadness felt, like he might be sucked in any moment too, tears falling from beneath his domino mask.

He hates whoever it is that made you feel that way. If it was him- if you loved him instead, he’d make sure you were never sad, he’d give you everything he was and everything he had if it meant you might smile for him.

He doesn’t want to change your mind, your feelings don’t work like that. All he knows is that he loves you- and what you need right now, is a friend. Someone who-

“Just wants to see them happy” Dick mumbles.

Taglist: @adenspolaroids @libraryoffandomsuniverse @jeneeangella @chyume @masked-mushroom

[plus-size-reader]

The Babysitter

Rodrick Heffley x Plus size!reader

Word Count: 1156 words

Warnings: none 

Summary: Susan hires the girl that Rodrick likes to babysit Greg, and he has no game where she’s concerned. 

——————————————————————————————————

You and Rodrick had never really spent any time together.

In fact, he wasn’t even sure if you would know who he was if you had to pick him out of a lineup but that didn’t change the fact that he knew who you were.

Honesty, he knew a lot about you.

So when you showed up at his front door with that expectant smile on your face, he nearly dropped his jaw to the floor. He couldn’t believe that you were here.

Not that he was complaining.

“Can I help you?” he asked, doing his best to be as calm and cool as he could, though he could hardly focus on anything more than your beautiful face.

Rodrick knew that you were beautiful but he had no idea that you were this incredible. He had never been this close to you as far as he knew.

The closest you two were was in chemistry class and even then, you had never spoken to one another in that class.

“This is the Heffley house isn’t it? I’m here to babysit Greg for the night” you explained, knowing for a fact this was the address Susan had texted you.

You had checked it a few times over before finally knocking on the door, besides, you knew that Rodrick wouldn’t be here unless it was.

Still, you felt the need to check.

There would be nothing worse than making a fool out of yourself when you were just trying to do your job.

Susan Heffley went to church with your parents, and you had spoken to her a few times, the last time being when she asked you to watch Greg when she and Frank were going on date night.

She explained to you that she didn’t trust him to be home alone by himself quite yet and she didn’t feel comfortable leaving him alone with just Rodrick after what had happened last time.

...Speaking of that, you didn’t know what that was.

She hadn’t told you what it was that happened but whatever it was, it was bad enough that she was willing to pay you to watch her teenager.

It was a little odd, you had to admit, but you had no problem watching him. Greg seemed like an okay kid and it shouldn’t have been too difficult.

Besides, you didn’t mind helping her out if she needed someone to keep an eye on him.

“Absolutely, you’re in the right place” he assured, leaning in the doorframe casually, though it couldn’t have looked any more awkward.

You had just told him what you were here for and yet, he was fully content with just standing here admiring you. Granted, you knew that Rodrick was sort of odd so you didn’t really question it.

Him acting strangely wasn’t really going to make a difference to you. You were getting paid nonetheless and there was nothing he could really do to bother you.

If nothing else, it could be a good opportunity to get to know him in a much more casual setting.

“Okay, great. Can I come in?” you wondered, a small smile on your face as you gestured past him in the doorway, completely as if he wasn’t blocking the entire entryway.

After all, you weren’t here to spend time with him. You had a job to do and you were actually planning on doing it.

“Sure thing, right this way”

Everything he did was overly dramatic, putting on a show for you but you did your best not to pay him too much mind. It confused you, but maybe this was just the way he was.

You wouldn’t really know either way. This was the first time you’d really gotten to spend time with Rodrick one-on-one and he was quite the character.

If nothing else, you knew that tonight was going to be anything but boring.

“Do you have any plans for tonight or were you just going to hang out here?” you wondered, setting your bag down on the living room couch, watching the long male take a seat there as casually as possibly.

He practically plopped down on the cushion, clearly not caring at all about the structural integrity of the furniture, not that you expected him too.

Of all the things he could have been thinking about, you should have known better than to think it was the couch.

Your question was a good one.

Rodrick hadn’t been expecting any of this to happen in the first place so he hadn’t thought that far ahead, though now that you’d brought it up, it was a good point.

He didn’t want to waste the opportunity to have you in his house, on his couch, at night with no parents at home but he also didn’t want to make a fool of himself.

For all he knew, you thought he was a complete freak and that wasn’t going to end well for him. He wanted you to think he was cool.

“I don’t know. My brother is kind of a loser so I don’t know how much fun we could have with him here” he commented, not even bothering to cover up the double meaning of his words.

It was only half a joke, but you did your best to continue to ignore it, a smile on your face. “I’m sure we could find something to do. We could watch a movie or something if you wanted to hang out” you tried this time, almost finding yourself wanting him to stay.

It confused you but you did your best not to think about it.

Rodrick was clearly a good looking guy and you weren’t blind so it could have just been that but you weren’t sure. There was just something so strangely magnetic about him and you couldn’t ignore that.

“We could do that, or I could show you how to play the drums?” he suggested, sure that would convince you that he was the coolest, hottest guy you’d ever seen.

After all, chicks dug bad boys and you were no exception. He was sure that you would be weak in the knees at the sight of him playing jams on his drum set.

Not that you were quite ready for that after just getting here. Rodrick seemed to have forgotten that you weren’t here to spend time with him.

“Maybe later. I have to watch Greg, remember?” you laughed, confused at how comfortable you found yourself in his company, even with the little you two had in common.

You had hardly spoken before today but that didn’t matter. Rodrick already knew that he wanted to spend time with you and it wouldn’t be long at all before you got there too.

He just had to wait it out.

You were here for his brother, sure, but Rodrick was sure that by the end of the night, you would keep coming back for him.

[blackcatclawsout]

Majima x Reader- Bento Box

I also post to AO3 under the same username!

Morning was always her favourite time of the day. Y/N stirred in her shared bed, nestling into the arms that were already wrapped around her. Majima seemed to already be awake; his grip tightened and drew her closer. He peppered her cheeks and forehead in light kisses, giggling at her sleepy groaning. She swatted away his face, chuckling softly.

"No, I have morning breath," she whined, smirking as he drew her near.

They laid in bed motionless, letting dawn's light hit their blanketed bodies. Everything was soft and warm, as the rising sun began to wake greater Tokyo. Y/N could stay like this forever, pressed against his chest, breathing in Majima. He rarely took showers at night, so she always caught a bit of his cologne in their morning cuddles. Stealing glances at her beau, she saw his face, softened as he breathed softly. She admired his thin face and his high cheekbones. Y/N gently reached up, rubbing the backs of her fingers across his motionless face. She cupped his cheek. Majima's eye opened, locking with her. His grey eye was softened in moments like these, pupil lazily dilating as he stared back at her. Catlike blinks between the two of them communicated their mutual appreciation for the silent moment they were currently sharing. Y/N's eyes darted towards his thin-lipped mouth. The hand she rested on his lean chest felt his heart speed up. The anxious pattering edged her to lean in closer. A giddy feeling rose from her stomach, compelling her to shut her eyes in excitement. The harsh melody of the phone cut through their synchronized breathing.

"Son of a..." Majima muttered, immediately turning to his bedside stand. Y/N sat up, calming her still fast-beating heart. "Nishida, d'ya even know what time- No, I haven't since... Fuck. I'll be there in a sec." He sighed, hanging up. Majima sat on the edge of the bed, fingers massaging his temple. His lover crawled to him slowly, resting a hand on his shoulder. Before she could ask, he stood up, turning around to face her. 

"Shit's hit the fan, I gotta go." His hand extended, resting on top of her head. Fingers wandered absent-mindedly through her locks as his eyes flickered over her partly covered figure. His brows were once again furrowed.

"I understand. You better get going." She nodded, smiling up at the older man. His lips parted slightly, almost to say something, but pressed together again. He sauntered to the washroom, closing the door behind him. Y/N glanced at the clock on Majima's side table.

5:56... yikes. No wonder Goro was pissed off. He doesn't usually get up for another half hour. 

She stretched as she got up, wrapping a robe around herself as she left the bedroom. Something Y/N had slowly grown accustomed to in her partnership to Majima was bento boxes. The idea of making someone a packed lunch seemed… childish to her; at least it did at first. She vaguely remembered her mother making her lunch when she was a child, probably because she couldn't be trusted to pack her own. She had learned quickly to become independent, fiercely so, and the thought of relying on someone else to make her lunch seemed strange to her. It wasn't until Goro explained that she caught the appeal.

"When you're a kid, your mom made one of them for you and your dad. It always had great shit in there- homemade and sometimes with cute decorations. Now, she only did this for you an' your ol' man, the two people she shoulda loved most. So when ya girl makes it, it means she loves ya!"  He flashed a cheeky grin as he explained. Y/N just cocked her head.

"You... don't think of your mom when you eat it?" She asked warily, causing him to burst with laughter.

"Hell no, I don't! I just think of my girl, and how lucky I am to have her." he leaned forward, pecking her cheek as he finished. 

Y/N washed the rice absent-mindedly as she thought back to then. A smile graced her lips as she turned the machine on to hum, beginning to make other parts of his lunch. There was a big learning curve at first; the rice balls would always fall apart, or she’d mess up some recipe. Far too often she had left out an element from the lunch box, only to find it waiting on the counter. Despite it all, Majima took a bento each day, calling after he finished to compliment her work. His praise motivated her, even driving her to go to a local bookstore, looking for any sort of help. Slowly, her skills improved. Her routine became more integrated and quicker with each passing day.

After a short while, she looked at her handy work. The layer bento was stuffed full of edamame, onigiri with fish, steamed vegetables, and leftover meat from their dinner before. She felt proud of her handiwork, even if it wasn’t perfect. Y/N glanced at the kitchen clock on the wall. 

It’s been almost 20 minutes... He should be ready soon.

She packed the food up, tucking his chopstick into the small plastic container. After ensuring everything was ready to go, she padded back to the bedroom, looking around for her lover. Muttering leaked out of their washroom, prompting her to follow the growling. 

“Hey, Goro-chan… You’ll need to be heading out soon,” She popped her head into the doorway,  smiling as she saw him already finished. He turned to face her, an exasperated look already carved into his face. 

“Those assholes…” He sighed as he walked towards her, He was dressed in his usual suit jacket and black leather pants. She could still smell the dampness in his hair and his body wash- one of her favourite smells. Y/N gave a soft smile to him. 

They didn’t often talk about his work, they met in spite of it, and he seemed to prefer to keep it that way. When they first met, he was insistent that he was a businessman- he looked the part then too. At the time, his hair was long and neat, his suit always pressed and clean; he had kept himself well-groomed with a clean shaved face, so it wasn’t much of a stretch then. Of course, life got in the way and they fell apart, only connecting years later by chance. The drastic change in his appearance tipped her off that he was into… different work by now. But she respected his privacy. She wasn’t oblivious by any means; Y/N meticulously knew what he did and where he was most days. After a few months of being together, she began receiving text messages from Nishida, informing her on where his boss was, especially during late evenings. They chatted frequently, even going into topics not associated with work. He was her confidant and seemed to share the image of Majima that she had. 

Goro finished with his hair and came to the doorway, kissing her cheek before heading out of the bathroom. He picked up a few things he left out on the bed before also leaving the bedroom. She tidied the washroom, bringing out the damp towel that smelled like him, and tiding the bedspread before also leaving.

“See ya! I’m off!” Majima called from the door. 

“Call you later!” She echoed from the laundry room, “Have a good day!” She waited for the door to click shut before she continued with the laundry. Household chores weren’t her favourite, she didn’t enjoy doing laundry or cooking. But if it was left up to the two of them, both Majima and Y/N would starve and live the remainder of their days on earth as nudists. On her days off, she tried to get everything done quickly, leaving the remainder of the day to read or do whatever else she pleased. Y/N stretched as the washing machine began to purr lightly. She sighed as she looked around for something else to do.

Can’t seem to find anything else… Guess it’s time for breakfast.

Padding to the kitchen, she used the remainder of the food prepared from before to make herself food. She hummed happily as egg sizzled and soup came to a soft boil. The fragrant embrace of food brought her a joy that nothing else in the world could, and she almost hated to admit it. It was half-way through her rendition of some pop song from the radio that she noticed something in the corner of her eye, sitting on the countertop. Turning she noticed it was the bento box she made. Y/N held the container in her hands, turning it over lightly. She felt her brow furrow slightly, thinking of what to do. Should she bring it to him? Glancing at the clock she sighed,

It’s 7:00 am… If I get ready soon I can drop this off and pop around Kamurocho for a bit

It was 10:30-ish when she was dressed and ready to head out. Just because of the occasion, she decided to wear a knee-length black skirt and a simple creme blouse, pairing them with black penny loafers. She admired her reflection in the hallway mirror, her makeup light and perfect for a sunny afternoon out. Y/N made sure to gently tuck in the bento box to the fabric bag she had slung around her shoulder and headed out for the day. 

Navigating the subways always seemed daunting during rush hour, so she grew thankful when she patted down the steps to find the underground mostly empty. It was a short walk through the underground mall to where she needed to go; the large hall filled with all ages shopping for what they needed. Sweet vendors sold their succulent items to the newly freed students, groups of teenage girls fawned over the newest character items displayed, some with their boyfriends. A light smile played over Y/N’s face as she too had been that way when she was younger. She understood the excitement contained within the first week off of school, how it drove young people to be out with their friends. As she left the mall area and came to her line, she noticed a pair of teens waiting. A boy and a girl stood side by side, rather stiffly. She eyed them, noticing the way they both twitched when talking to one another. How cute. She glanced down at her fabric bag.

I wonder what he was like when he was younger…

The train ride was about 20 minutes, dropping her off in the heart of Kamurocho. Despite the bright sun and lack of neon lights, people swarmed the warming streets, chatting and shopping to their heart’s content. The smell of grilled food, cigarettes, and sun-baked concrete filled her senses as Y/N darted through the crowd. Regardless of being the only foreigner for blocks, she was ignored completely by the other’s around her. It sometimes was the only redeeming quality of the busier areas. Endless roads seemed to carry on for miles, the farthest treks waving and fluttering in the edging midday heat. All of Kamurocho seemed to be gearing up for the impending festival season, which always impressed visitors from far and wide. Passing by, attendants called out in hopes of catching a customer, but their calls falling on deaf ears. The Millenium Tower loomed over the crowds in the bright sunlight, casting a sharp shadow; though it was a ways off, it still acted as a centre, or maybe more of a North star. She dawdled towards the quieter part of town where the Majima family office was located. She had vaguely remembered certain landmarks, like the worn down shrine that always seemingly had a fresh bowl of rice, or the old teahouse they had once stopped at. As she drew near the building, a tense feeling probed her stomach, though she had trouble understanding why. It was not like Goro was ever mean or told her not to come, yet she had the feeling like he had lived his life with her around his work, avoiding involving her in any regard. 

Y/N bit her lip anxiously; She would be lying to say she had not considered heading back. Simply calling him to warn him that he might have to eat out for today, or feign ignorance over his forgetfulness this morning. Yet, the prospect of doing anything else plagued her mind with guilt. Glancing at her watch, she decided to head in, despite it being only 11:22, as she’d rather be giving him his lunch early than late. She cautiously walked into the building,  immediately hit with a wall of air conditioning. She shivered in the artificial cool and looked about. The standard lobby was clean but dated and smelled of old carpet. Thinking back, Y/N had never gotten a good look at the inside, the most she saw was whatever she could see through the window the one time she saw Majima exit from here. The lobby only had a hallway attached, seemingly where the elevators and washroom would be. Gloomy plants sat destitute in the corner of the room. As she finished her look-over, her eyes settled on the high desk that rested on the left side of the room. Quietly, she approached.

The man sitting at the desk was middle aged and pudgy. His clothes and hair would have betrayed him for just another typical salary man and not someone who worked with the Yakuza. Several papers were strewn around him as he wrote on the one closest to him. As she stood waiting, she noticed the permanent fowl look on his face. It was decidedly funny when she realized it was the same face one makes at an offensive smell. Holding back a snicker, she spoke up. 

“Um, excuse me…” her voice almost was a whisper. The man whipped his head up, visibly confused. His eyes quickly jumped about her figure as he rose from his seat.

“No english. Out.” He rattled quickly in english, stepping from behind the desk. In her initial shock, he nearly dragged her to the door before she retracted her hand. 

“I’m here for-” She began.

“No english.” The man repeated once again, turning to face her.

“Is Majima Goro here?” She exclaimed loudly. The man froze where he stood, blinking owlishly at her. The air conditioning above them tousled both their hair, the moment silent, still and cold. He cleared his throat before straightening himself.

“Yes, I believe Majima-sama is in his office.” The man responded quietly, looking her over once more. Y/N sighed in relief, relaxing her own posture. 

“Thank you. Can you take me to him?” 

He shook his head softly, walking back to the desk, trailing her along dumbly. At first she thought he was refusing to help her anymore, but as he sat down, he reached for the desk’s phone and irritatedly called a short sequence. He muttered something under his breath before hanging up the phone and returning back to his papers. An awkward pause played as Y/N waited for any further instruction, standing dumbly in front of the pudgy man. Without warning, the elevator creaked opened, allowing two tall lean men to step out. She took that as her cue, and walked towards them. 

Confusion seemed to be the theme of the Majima family office; Both men took a second to look her over before jumping back into action, patting her down rather roughly. While they avoided the obvious areas, they did seem to paw her skirt a little belligerently. She bit her lip to bite back a rude comment, deciding that it wasn’t worth pissing off men who killed people for a living. When one tried to take her bag, she yelped causing them to jump slightly. Her face was hot as she opened the canvas bag herself, showing them the contents After an additional minute of snooping, they led inside the elevator adjacent; The three of them stood compactly to one another. Y/N felt them shift their body weight. The small box had no air conditioning, quickly undoing the chill she felt moments ago. Her heart beat began to pick up again as they climbed slowly to the third floor, seconds stretching to minutes. When they arrived, she was hit once again with the cooled air. 

The hallway was plain and for some reason nerve-wracking. The lack of scenery gave her less to take in as she tried to calm her beating heart. Checking and rechecking her bag, she made sure the food was in there. Her pulse was loud in her ears and her face felt hot. Why out of all the times she had given Majima a bento, this was the time when she was nervous about it? She thought back to their phone conversations after he had finished his lunch- Was he ever lying? What if he just threw it out at work and told her a pretty white lie? It was only an odd electricity in the room that made her tear her gaze from the bottom of the bag that she had been staring at.

Looking up, she found her gaze land on Goro Majima’s face, his brows furrowing as he looked over her.

“Y/N, are you alright?” His voice had an edge of concern as he stepped out a little from the doorway. She couldn’t help but find herself gawking- he felt too unreal to answer to. She had heard before that you often have trouble recognizing people when they are removed from the typical scenario you see them in; this seemed to be a prime example to her. Before she could answer, Majima led her into his office, draping his arm over her shoulder as he led her in. As she bustled in, he closed the door quickly behind them. 

Her eyes wandered over his office- It was small and rather boring, only a small katana on the wall suggested that he would actually use this space. It was surprisingly clean, save for a large desk which was scattered in various papers. The filing cabinets and tables were covered in papers as well, though neatly stacked into piles. It never had occurred to her that he would have done any other work besides physical. Her thoughts were stopped as Goro came into her view. His grey eye was dark and his brow creased, which only made him look older. His gloved hands rested on her shoulders, his gaze even with hers. 

“Are you alright, Y/N-chan?” His voice quivered slightly. Her face reddened in response, forcing her to break eye contact.

“Y-yeah, I’m fine..” she replied quietly.

A stale silence hung in the air before Majima straightened himself, hands dropping from her shoulders to hold her hands instead. He held her hands up, gently rubbing the backs of her knuckles.

“You’re not acting like yourself… What’s really happening?” His baritone voice was soft and pleading, making his concern more unbearable. The woman let out a shaky breath and urged herself to look at him. Her tongue felt swollen in her mouth and her throat seemed dryer than moments before. 

“You left your lunch at home, but I… just feel silly.” She managed to mewl meekly. Her eyes stayed trained on him while he processed what she said. His face betrayed his confusion before he cocked his head.

“My… lunch?” He repeated. She sighed heavily.

“I came into the kitchen and it was still on the counter, and I didn’t want you to be hungry or to have to go out and stop what you were doing to go buy lunch-” She began only to be cut off by his howling laughter. He held his stomach and keeled over, gasping for air while he cackled brightly. Now she really felt embarrassed.

After giggling to himself for a while longer, he looked up at her, still doubled over and gasping, “You’re too cute.” 

She fumbled with her bag, grabbing the bento and quickly shoving it to him. Even though her gaze was averted from him, she could still sense his smile as he gently took the container from her. He walked to his desk, plopping down in the plush leather chair, setting his feet up on the desk. Y/N drew near as he popped the lid open, surveying the contents.

“Okey-dokey, let’s see what we have... Karaage, edamame- always delicious… Ooh! Even salmon onigiri!” He loudly praised the humble contents of the bento, picking through the contents lightly. His lover settled on the edge of his desk, watching his reactions intently. He ate ravenously, akin to a rabid dog more than an actual person. She was the one to giggled this time, watching his face change with each side dish. 

As he finished, Majima sighed loudly, sinking further into his chair.

“Delicious as always.” 

Y/N cocked her head, “You think so?” He smirked, pulling her forward towards him.I know so.”

[seasonschange-butpeopledont]

Everyday Heroes

Pairing: Marcus Moreno x F!Reader

Warnings: A few curse words, an explosion, implied injury, depressed reader, minor character death, grief, and a bit of pining

Word Count: 3,364

Author’s Note: This got out of hand and apparently I only know how to write hopeless pining. Do we agree that Marcus gives off Clark Kent vibes or am I alone in this?

Summary: The three times you discovered Marcus Moreno was a hero. 

Taglist Form - Masterlist

When you’d left the house that morning, the heels you wore had seemed like a great idea. 

You were headed in for your first day at your new job and you wanted to make a good impression by wearing what you perceived to be your most professional outfit. You’d made it to the coffee shop down the street from your apartment with minimal difficulty, though you were certain to have blisters on your feet by the end of the day. Thankfully, your receptionist position meant that you would spend the majority of your day more or less chained to the front desk, answering phones, taking messages, scheduling appointments, and greeting visitors. 

You didn’t know much about Vil-Tech. You’d googled them before your first interview, of course- you weren’t a total idiot and you’d never dare show up unprepared, especially when you needed this job so badly- but your search had yielded only a few results. Most of what you’d found had been articles from the newspaper. The researchers at the lab had, apparently, recently had some success in clean energy technology. Protons, neutrons, particle accelerators, electromagnetic fields… You knew nothing about it, really, but it sounded impressive. And clean energy had to be good, right? When they’d hired you, it hadn’t seemed like a big deal that you knew next to nothing about the company itself. They were only looking for a receptionist, after all, not a scientist. If they’d wanted you to know exactly what was going on in the floors above you, you were sure that they would have let you know. 

With your coffee in hand, you made your way towards the Vil-Tech building. All in all, it seemed like the universe was on your side this morning. You’d woken up early enough to make yourself look decent. Your favorite barista had made your coffee just the way you liked it, and it even looked like you would be early for work. 

And then it all seemed to happen in slow motion. 

The upper half of your body was already moving forward, even as the heel of your shoe remained firmly wedged in the sidewalk crack. You felt the coffee sloshing around in the stainless steel travel mug in your hands, threatening to douse your crisp white blouse in the steaming beverage. You blindly threw your hand out in front of you, bracing yourself to hit the concrete and thinking to yourself that this was just one of those days when this might as well happen. 

But the harsh impact you’d prepared yourself for never came. 

It had taken you a moment to process that someone had caught you. Someone with impeccable reflexes, it seemed, as not only had they rescued you from taking a humiliating fall in the middle of a busy sidewalk, but they also managed to save your coffee without spilling a drop. To say that you were impressed by the feat was an understatement.

But when you looked up at your savior, you were damn near speechless. 

“Are you okay?” He asked, his dark eyes finding yours from beneath his black-framed glasses. And, other than the approximately thirty-seven heart attacks you’d had in the span of 2.5 seconds only moments before, you found yourself nodding in confirmation. 

“I’m fine. I… Thank you,” You breathed out, a warm, tingly feeling spreading out from your chest and right down to your toes. Gods, he had the most beautiful eyes you’d ever seen. He appeared to be somewhere in his mid-forties, and wore a leather jacket with his slacks and tie, a combination you’d never quite seen before, but decided suited him quite well. 

“Are you sure? You look a little dizzy,” He noted. His arm was still around your waist, and you were grateful for it, because you didn’t quite trust the integrity of your knees at the moment.

After a few moments, which had exceeded the socially acceptable amount of time to moon over a stranger while clutching their remarkably toned biceps for dear life by a long-shot, your brain finally seemed to catch up to the rest of you, and promptly flooded your thoughts with embarrassment. You released your death-grip on his arms immediately, trying to maintain your dignity as you yanked your heel from the concrete crevice in a distinctly unladylike manor. All the while, the handsome stranger remained right there, dutifully holding your coffee and trying his best to hide the amusement in his eyes with a polite smile. 

Taking a deep breath and smoothing out your outfit, you nodded at him once again. “I’m fine,” You said in what you hoped was your most composed voice. He promptly handed you your coffee, and you swore you felt electricity when his fingers brushed against yours. 

“Glad to hear it,” He remarked, “That would have been a nasty fall.” 

“Nice save, Clark,” You joked, attempting your most charming smile. Were you flirting? Could you even consider this flirting?

“Clark?” He repeated, his eyebrows raised in curiosity. 

“You know, Clark Kent… with the glasses and... lightning-fast reflexes… saving me from an incredibly embarrassing moment?” You explained weakly. It wasn’t as if you’d never spoken to an attractive man before, but it seemed that the universe was decidedly not on your side this morning after all.

“Superman?” Another smile found its way to his face. He seemed flattered by your comment. “My daughter loves those comics.” At the mention of his daughter, your eyes quickly darted down to his left hand. There was no wedding ring there, but it was clear that there had been one there in the past. 

“Well, your daughter has excellent taste. And we could all use a few more heroes in our lives, right?” You sighed wistfully, before adding, “Thank you, by the way.” 

“It was no big deal,” He assured you. “I’m always happy to help a pretty lady in need.” 

You laughed quietly at the last part, finding the cheesiness of it adorable. You weren’t quite sure why you were still lingering on the street corner, except that you couldn’t quite bring yourself to walk away just yet. He seemed equally as reluctant to part from you, both of you grinning shyly at one another as you soaked in the meet-cute moment. Right up until his eyes fell to the ID badge clipped to your bag, that is. 

“Is that a Vil-Tech badge?”

There was a hint of disappointment in his tone that you couldn’t quite assign a cause for. It wasn’t the question you were expecting. You’d expected him to ask your name, or maybe offer you his, but you could practically see the gears turning in his head by now, so you humored him.

“Yep,” You confirmed. “It's my first day. I’m just a receptionist, though…” 

He nodded slowly, his eyebrows pinching together. He didn’t even try to hide his frown. What was it about Vil-Tech that seemed to bother him so much?

“I’m really sorry, but I’m running late for work,” He said finally, nodding in the direction you had just come from. He turned his attention back to you, his eyes staring into yours as he spoke with the utmost seriousness. “Good luck on your first day, and… Look after yourself, okay? Vil-Tech might not be what you think it is.” 

And with that, he brushed past you, seemingly in quite a hurry as he disappeared into the crowd and left you standing there, disappointment sinking deep into your bones. 

You didn’t even get his name. 

***

You didn’t see him again for a month. 

Not that you often thought about him or his dreamy eyes and ridiculously charming smile or his strong arms around your waist. And definitely not that you sometimes idly wondered where he was and how his day was going while you were grocery shopping or stuck at the laundromat. 

Okay, maybe you did. 

Maybe you went to that same coffee shop every week day, hoping that you might bump into him again. 

And maybe you sometimes imagined those eyes staring into yours and arms around you in situations where you weren’t making a complete fool of yourself. 

You felt silly for being that girl. The one who falls hopelessly in love with strangers you pass on the streets, with anyone who thinks that anyone who so much as holds the door open for you could be your true love. You were a grown up, for goodness sake. You weren’t supposed to believe in that kind of thing anymore. 

But it was those ridiculous daydreams you found yourself caught up in when a team of Heroics stormed into Vil-Tech on a Tuesday afternoon. 

“I apologize, sir, but Dr. Pershing is out of the office today…” You sighed, listening to the supplier ramble on and on about the importance of Dr. Pershing returning his call. You had already scribbled the message down, along with his name and phone number. “Yes, I’ll be sure to give him the message.” It was difficult to hide the exasperation in your tone. 

“That’s what you said the last time,” The man snapped. “Pershing didn’t return my calls for a week. I don’t know why they can’t hire someone who knows how to take a message properly. God knows they’ve got the money for it.” 

You tapped the tip of your pen against the notepad on your desk, feeling a lump beginning to form in your throat. “I apologize, Mr. Wells. I’ll make sure that Dr. Pershing gets your message as soon as he returns.” 

“You’d better,” He grumbled, before the line went dead. 

You let out a slow breath, easing yourself back from the edge of tears. It had been like this all morning. The scientists in the building were off at a conference for the week, leaving you behind to copy down messages and field angry phone calls. 

Stan, the elderly security guard, if you could call him that, offered you a sympathetic smile from his post by the door. You returned it weakly.

Closing your eyes, you tried to think of something else. Brown eyes, charming smile, strong arms. You repeated it like a mantra. Electricity. The feeling of safety. That warm, fluttering feeling in your stomach, and a rush of calm. 

When you opened your eyes again, you found Stan staring slack-jawed as the Heroics sprinted into the building, announcing to you, Stan, and the maintenance staff that you all needed to clear the building immediately. They offered no explanation for their frantic demands, but when a guy in spandex and a cape tells you to go, you go. You were sure that, whatever it was, you’d be able to catch the reason for the strange event on the news later that evening. You’d watched them destroy city hall enough times from the comfort of your living room to be sure that you wanted out of this building as soon as possible. 

But, given that this was your first call-the-Heroics-level emergency, it seems that your idea of immediacy was a bit different from theirs. In the time that it had taken you to grab your jacket, shove your laptop in your purse, and sling the bag over your shoulder, you had already been tackled to the ground by some idiot in a tactical vest. 

You don’t remember much about the explosion. 

You’d later learn that Vil-Tech Labs dealt in more than just technological innovation. The research they’d been conducting while locked away in the uppermost floors of the building, all of that gibberish involving the off-site particle accelerator you’d read about, was both sinister and invaluable. Rather than letting the Heroics get their hands on their files to uncover their plans and stop them from being set in motion, they’d decided to set off an explosion in their own goddamn building. And thanks to that ‘idiot in a tactical vest’, you were one of the only survivors. 

But in the meantime, while you were lying on your back in the middle of the lobby feeling like you’d been hit by a train, you were clueless about the nefarious action of the company you’d spent the last month working for. The only thing you could seem to focus on was the pain in your head from where you’d smacked it against the tile flooring, and the weight of the fully grown man on top of you that was currently restricting your breathing. 

You must have hit your head even harder than you thought, because there was no way in hell the man who’d been starring in all of your daydreams for months was here, now, on top of you, with katanas strapped to his back. You refused to accept that as a reality. Would he even remember you? Why would he? Apparently, the man you’d developed a  stupid little crush on was a superhero. He probably helped people all of the time and you were just another-

“What the fuck?” You finally hissed, gasping for air. The air was smokey and it stung your eyes and nose when you inhaled. 

His breathing hitched slightly when you looked up at him, the look of fear clear on your face. “You okay?” He asked, still hovering above you as he pushed himself up on his elbows, careful to avoid the shattered glass that now seemed to cover every flat surface in sight. 

“I’m… reasonably certain I’m not dead,” You replied, an edge of panic in your voice, which was a bit shakier than you would have liked. “What’s happening? I don’t- I don’t understand- Where is Stan-” You coughed, your lungs burning. 

You idly wondered how long you had before the building started to collapse, its structural integrity surely compromised by the explosion. Of all the ways you could die, being buried alive was up there with the ones you dreaded the most. Your growing panic must have been obvious. 

“Hey, calm down,” He reassured you. “I’m going to get you out of here. You’re going to be just fine.” 

The room was still spinning when you felt yourself being scooped up into his arms, the edges of your vision growing more and more fuzzy with each breath you took. 

“We have got to stop meeting like this, Clark” You murmured. You swear you feel, rather than hear, a laugh rumble in his chest just before the world goes dark. Maybe he did remember you after all. 

***

It’s only a little more than a week later, long after you’ve woken up in the hospital and been discharged, that you find yourself sitting in the coffee shop down the street. It’s a Thursday morning, and you’re staring blankly into your vanilla latte. 

You aren’t sure why you’re up so early. The doctors had ordered you to take it easy, and it’s not like you had a job to go to anymore. You could have slept in, made your own coffee at home, and stayed curled up on your couch watching Netflix and hiding from the rest of the world like you had been for the past week. You felt horrible that you’d been associated with a place like Vil-Tech. You should have known that something was off about the place, but you’d never realized it, never bothered to look into anything when things seemed off. You felt so stupid for it now. Were you just as bad as the rest of them? Sure, all you’d done was answer phones for them, but…

Stan, your only friend at Vil-Tech, the kind man who had shared half of his sandwich at lunch with you more times than you could count and always had a smile for you when he greeted you in the mornings, had never made it out of the building. You supposed that you should consider yourself lucky that the Heroics had saved you, but the loss of your friend and the knowledge that Vil-Tech was certainly not what you thought it was, had shaken you. 

You’d felt different when you woke up this morning. Like, maybe, leaving your apartment and getting some fresh air wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world.

Your favorite barista had smiled sympathetically when you walked through the doors. You must have looked as bad as you felt. Considering you hadn’t showered since you’d gotten home from the hospital, you were sure that you were quite a sight. 

“Good morning!” She greeted, mustering up her cheeriest demeanor for you. “The usual, right?”

You nodded, not quite making eye contact as you handed her your card to pay. She quickly waved you off. 

“It’s on the house today, hon. And I insist that you take this chocolate chip muffin. I’ll make you feel better.” 

Your heart ached at her kindness, the act almost forcing tears in your eyes once again. That was the thing that you realized over the past few days. The Heroics were great, but there were plenty of everyday heroes out there as well. Sometimes it was Ashely the Barista, who scribbles a smiley face and a compliment on your cup on the mornings that seem particularly rough. Sometimes it was Stan the Security Guard, who offers to teach you sudoku on your lunch breaks. And sometimes it was a stranger you passed on the street, who catches you when you fall. 

You sat down at a table in the corner of the coffee shop, your vanilla latte and chocolate chip muffin sat out in front of you, untouched for the moment. You didn’t usually sit down to have your coffee, but you had nowhere to be today, and you were finding that you appreciated not being alone for a while. 

You heard the bells above the door jingle, signaling that a new customer had entered the shop. You looked up to see a man with dark hair and a familiar leather jacket walking towards the barista to place his order. You listened closely as he gave his name for his order, though you’d heard it plenty of times on the news this week. A smile tugged at the corners of your lips for the first time in over a week.

Marcus Moreno, your own personal Superman. 

You hadn’t meant to stare, but it was undeniably strange to see the man who had saved you not once, but twice, doing something as mundane as making his morning coffee run. After he paid, he turned towards the groupings of tables and chairs, searching for a place to sit while he waited for his drink to be ready. When his eyes landed on you, you raised your hand in a small wave. You were nervous about how he’d react to seeing you here. You had no doubt that he recognized you this time.

You weren’t exactly sure what the protocol was for meeting a real-life superhero again after they had saved your life. Were you supposed to pretend not to know each other? Should you have paid for his coffee? Did you make a public declaration to name your first born child after him?

To your surprise, he simply smiled back at you with the most heart-stopping, breathtaking smile you’d ever seen in your life, and returned your wave. It was as simple as that, you thought. Marcus Moreno, the superhero with katanas at this back and a team of Heroics at his side, the closest thing to Superman you’d ever met, was impressive. But Marcus Moreno, the helpful man with a kind, beautiful smile and warm, friendly eyes, whose mere existence had never failed to cheer you up? He was magnificent. An everyday hero, indeed. 

He made this way through the crowd and over to your table, gesturing to the seat across from you as if to ask for your permission to sit down. You nodded, feeling a sense of warmth blossoming in your chest. The same way you’d felt when you saw him for the first time. The same feeling that you’d been dreaming about for months. 

Hope, you realized. 

“Hi,” He greeted. “I, uh, I never caught your name. I’m Marcus Moreno.” 

As you gave him your name, you decided that maybe you could start by just saying thank you. 

General Taglist: @theravenreads @marshmallowtraver @computeringturtle @adikaofmandalore @pascalisthepunkest

Marcus Moreno Taglist: @xjaywritesx​

[equalstrashflavoredtrash]

Echoy’aim - 1

a/n: so my hope is for this to be a series, im like really diggin the ideas i’ve got rolling around in my skull and i also wanna take it slow with this fic (I know i have a habit of rushing to the horny bits) While writing i listened to the album Ecophony Rinne by Geinoh Yamashirogumi, which i would totally recommend! it helped me with the vibe. also much love to @maybege​ and @whenimaunicorn​ for listening to me ramble and encouring this mess.

wordcount: 2,669 (lol nice)

warnings: this fic is Omegaverse, with a/b/o dynamics, later points in the story will be more smutty but so far nothing sexual happens

PART 2

alpha!Paz x reader // The Mandalorian (A/B/O)

Looking up at the sky, you couldn’t help but notice how bright the new moon was. Even when the moon Wolo was cast in the shadow of Otare, the artificial light pollution from the city of Odharra on its surface was always visible, always glowing. You couldn’t look at the moon without wondering what your family was doing. It was hard to keep track of the time difference between the celestial bodies but you knew that your mom was most likely in her lab working away.

“You also running late?” a voice from behind you asked. With a simple shake of your head you broke the course of your thoughts before turning to find Kel. She wore her commonplace smile, exuding a confidence you were jealous of; she seemed so content and happy with her state, resting her hand on top of her round belly.

“Yeah, just lost track of time,” you mumbled, falling in pace next to her as she waddled along the main path to the center of the village. 

“Same here, it took forever to get Boej down for the night. I was so worn out I crashed next to him,” She laughed to herself, moving her hand to brace against her lower back. Without hesitation you stilled, giving her a moment to rest before she continued, “Do you know what this urgent council meeting is about anyway?”

“Apparently there was a distress call from just outside the atmosphere, and some families want to respond,” You mumbled with a shrug, relaying the sparse details you had overheard. The pair of you walked along in a shared silence that wasn’t exactly uncomfortable, but you still felt the need to fill the air. “Well, the shipment is arriving tomorrow. Jae will be back with you in no time.”

Kel nodded at your comment, smiling to herself before adding, “He’ll be back and staying on planet until these two are born.” 

“I'm sure it’s hard for him to be away from his riduur, especially when you’re so far along.” You tried to ignore the ache in your chest as you watched her rub along the curve of her pregnant belly. It was the same ache you felt when she announced her first son, or when she confided in you before anyone else when she learned was having twins. The pheromones a pregnant omega gave off were supposed to calming in nature to those around them, but the smell of her did not seem to have that effect on you. You wanted to be happy for her, as much as the whole tribe was—it seemed everyone wanted to touch and feel the kicks of her budding children—but you couldn’t help feeling outside of the events as the older omegas reminisced on their pregnancies and offered advice for Kel’s comfort.

Kel’s expression softened as she took in the way you gazed at her body. Wrapping her arm around your shoulders, she pulled you close, giving a squeeze as she nudged her forehead against yours, “Don’t worry, you’ll find a mate soon. I'm sure of it.” 

You tried to smile and seem agreeable, but also took the opportunity of approaching the Greathouse as a chance to break apart. Kel waved as she went in through the main door while you slipped around the corner of the building. Quietly as you could, you used a side entrance to cut to your seat near the center without disturbing too many of the onlookers. You settled on your knees in your place, just behind your grandmother. 

The Greathouse was as full as you’d ever seen it, members of the tribe packed in from wall to wall, standing where there wasn’t room to sit; all witnessing the elders’ discussion. Spectators were never uncommon for these meetings, but you couldn’t think of a time you’d seen this many at once. 

The seating arrangement in the great space during meetings was in the shape of a wagon wheel. In the center of the hall—at the wheel’s axle—was the fire pit. Circled around that were the eldest alpha of each family. Six in all, a mix of men and women, each with their helmets—an important heirloom and family symbol—proudly displayed before them. Behind the alphas sat their families, spread out to fill the slices of space like the spokes of a wheel. The circle of elders was broken only by your grandmother, the Alor and seventh member of the council. She was the only one without a helmet as she was the only omega. Across the room you could see Kel settle down among her family as a cousin offered her his chair.

You tried to quietly whisper an apology for your tardiness but your grandmother waved you off, patting your leg with one hand. In the other she held a small leather pouch. The discussion was in full swing now but you focused more on reaching for the steaming kettle by the fire than what was being said at the moment. You refilled your grandmother’s mug before pouring a drink for yourself.

“They are Mandalorians!” One of the leader’s voices boomed from across the circle.

“They are warriors!” Another replied, slamming her balled fist on the ground to emphasize her point. “We are farmers, we have chosen peace—all of us have!—there is no place for warriors among us.” 

The people watching were nearly silent—only occasionally clapping in agreement—rapt with attention as the group of six continued to make their points over the crackling of the fire and each other. You tried to listen to the arguing, weighing their opinions in your own mind, but your eyes kept wandering to your grandmother’s hands. 

Idly, she took a sip of her tea, unbothered by the noise, all while continuing to rhythmically bounce the pouch in her grasp. You could almost hear the familiar muffled sounds of the contents being jostled by the movement, the way they clack against each other. 

“This bickering will get us nowhere!” The man seated to your grandmother’s right rang out. It was Vres, your eldest Uncle, and the head of your own family. “Please, Alor,” he said in a calmer voice now that the arguing had halted, turning to face his mother, “Tell us, what do the bones say?”

All eyes were on your grandmother—necks craning forward to get a clearer view while those in the back stood from their seats—all watching as she twisted her wrist, pouring the fragments of bone from the pouch. The small white pieces, edges smoothed and rounded by age, bounced and scattered about, settling in place upon the ground before her, seemingly at random—but you watched the way her finger guided along above the arrangement. Studying each one in time, taking in their relation to each other. You tried to recall your lessons and understand what she was reading.

“The bones speak of the echoy’aim,” she finally said, breaking the heavy silence that had settled over the audience, “They speak of the deep pain we all know.” Carefully she reached forward, gently picking up one bone with her bent, arthritic fingers, holding it up to the light of the flame. This one you recognized. 

‘Both possibilities and aliit, our family,’ your grandmother had explained when she’d decided it was time for you to learn and had first shown you the bones. ‘It breaks off in two directions, representing the parting of ways or the branching of generations; what matters is how you read it.’ 

“They remind us that when one brother is safe, we all are safe.” 

- .-- --- --- .-- ..- ...-

There wasn't much contest after your grandmother spoke. The vote was unanimous—begrudgingly so by some—that the soldiers would stay with the tribe. The matter of whether they would truly integrate with Cuun Adate, or move on after a briefer respite, was left open to future discussion.

The covert arrived late at night, eager to land after an arduous journey. Most of Cuun Yaim was asleep when their ships first touched ground. You were awake in the loft of the Greathouse at the time, having said that you were going to bed but then losing track of time reading on your holopad.

It was lonely in the loft now. You missed the nights with the other omegas. When you moved from your parent’s home to the loft, the other beds were taken, since all of the other omegas had come of age before you even arrived in Cuun Yaim. You had ended up sleeping next to Kel, spending most of those nights together talking until you fell asleep; discussing the possibilities of the future as a full member of the tribe with a loving riduur.

Now, most nights you spent your time alone in the loft, bundled up with all the extra, unused pillows from the other beds. The loft was reserved for young omegas without a mate. It was over the main entrance of the great space, looking down over the central fire pit. It got very warm and cozy on cold nights, especially after gatherings that filled the hall with people like tonight’s meeting. 

At the far end of the hall was the Alor's residence, where your grandmother lived. Your Uncle and his family currently stayed there too, helping to care for her in her old age after she minded and taught their younglings during the day. 

After the last riduurok—when it was apparent that you would be the only one left un-mated and alone in the loft—your grandmother offered for you to sleep downstairs but you refused, insisting you wanted your own space and that the warm loft would be nice in the coming cold months.

So now you spent your evenings alone, reading your holopad as you listened to the dying fire below and the muffled sounds of your uncle’s riduur singing their pups to sleep.

This night was different due to the expected arrivals. You could hear your grandmother still awake working away at her weaving and humming along—the wooden clacking of the loom keeping time—far past when she would normally turn in. 

Your eyelids were heavy, the text before you becoming blurry as your wrist started to slump, almost dropping the holopad when you were jolted awake by the creak of the large door opening.

Cautiously crawling across the wooden planks on your knees, you listened closely, trying to count the footsteps before you could see how many people had entered. You were so focused that you hadn't noticed that the clack-clack of your grandmother's loom had stopped.

Shuffling on your belly, you approached the edge of the loft. Carefully you eased forward, peering over the sawed ends of the boards to watch what was happening around the fire. Your grandmother was plain to see in her usual seat but you followed her line of vision and spotted the newcomers entering the hall. 

The pair were easy to identify as Mandalorian; the first wore a golden beskar helmet that bore a series of small horns that circled around the crown of their head—almost Zobrak-like in their arrangement. A helmet that was not removed despite entering the great hall, something you chalked up to them being uneasy in a new place. Still, they knelt when approaching the fire, showing deference to your kin. That was when you noticed the second visitor. You could smell him before you even looked his way. His scent commanded your attention instantly—his pheromones, both musky and masculine in essence, held your gaze on him though you wanted to hear what the other was saying to your grandmother. Still you forced yourself to pay attention.

The one in the horned helmet stepped forward, urging your grandmother to stay seated. Reaching forward your grandmother clasped their forearm, a greeting you recognized as one shared between friends or equals. 

"I apologize for our untimely arrival, but I'm sure you understand the urgent nature of our situation. Thank you again, for taking my people in on such short notice." Hearing the second Alor's voice you recognized she was a woman and wondered vaguely curious of her disposition and what their covert's traditions were. 

Normally it was easy to tell by scent who was an alpha or omega, but the smell of the silent soldier was so overpowering to you, every other scent in the room was dampened compared to him—even the smell of the wood smoke. It was hard to discern much about his appearance from above but he stood tall, clad in blue armor. He seemed intimidating in stature, even without the protective layer of beskar you could tell he would tower over you. 

He remained silent as the two Alors spoke, standing near the fire to warm while listening to the conversation. You felt almost mesmerised as you studied him, unable to tear your eyes away a second time. It was like watching the alphas in the village spar: paying close attention at  every moment so you don’t miss the winning blow—but now instead of hoping to see a hard right hook you would have been content just seeing his fingers idly twitch.

You thought he was engrossed in the Alors' conversation when his helmet abruptly turned, almost instantly focusing on you. Even though his entire face was obscured by the dark tint of his helmet's visor, you could feel his eyes landing on you tucked away in the shadowy eaves of the Greathouse.

He held your gaze so intently you found yourself loathe to break the connection, even though normally you would look away from such direct eye contact. He was a proud alpha—you could not only by how he held himself, but by the heady scent of his disposition swirling up with the wood smoke to find you in the loft. 

There was something warm about the smell you couldn't name. Breathing it in, you felt not quite drowsy, but content. Lulled by his infatuating scent, you tucked your arms in close and rested your cheek on your wrist—all the while continuing to keep gaze with the blue soldier.

Your grandmother waved away the other Alor's apologies with her usual air. "You are safe, that is what matters most." She leaned forward, using the end of her cane to poke at the crumbling embers that were the last log. "You must be tired, please rest here."

"It is too late. The others will sleep on the ship tonight, so as not to disturb the village, but Paz and I will gladly accept your offer." Holding out a gloved hand she gestured to her silent companion as your grandmother hummed in agreement.

"Very well, then I must turn in." Your grandmother declared as she braced her cane, moving to stand. You could feel your muscles twitch with the impulse to help her, even though you were watching from the shadows. Instead of yourself stepping forward, it was the blue soldier.

He circled around the fire in barely two long steps, reaching for her elbow before she could dismiss his aid as she normally would. He walked slowly, keeping her pace as she shuffled along to the door that led to her living space. 

"I had my son-in-law set out some blankets for you, I hope there is all you need," your grandmother commented, turning around to speak to him.

"All that you provide is more than plenty, and I am thankful for it." His response was simple enough—the proper manners for speaking to an Alor—and your grandmother approved, smiling as she ducked past the curtain that separated the living quarters from the great space. The sound of his voice sent a pang through you, something that echoed in your form before settling as a warm heat between your thighs.

Returning to your bed, you climbed under the covers, basking in his scent as it continued to waft up to you as the blue soldier rested below your rafters. Unable to deny your biology, you were easily lulled into a comfortable sleep—resting more easily than you had since the loft had become so empty. 

/// NEXT >> //

Glossary [literal definition](functional definition) Echoy’aim - [searching/mourning + home](the Mandalorian Diaspora) Cuun Adate - [my people](the name of the Tribe) Cuun Yaim - [my home](the name of the Village) Otare - The planet Cuun Yaim is on Wolo - The Moon of Otare Odharra - The largest city on Wolo Riduur - Spouse (mate) Riduurok - a bond of love, marriage

///

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tag list:

@maybege​ @whenimaunicorn​ @grungyblonde​ @cptnbvcks​ @ivarinleatherpants​ @ayybtch​ @trippedmetaldetector​ @gallowsjoker​ @vvpoisonous​ @spacegayofficial​ @zombiexbody​ @ivars-heathen​ 

[illogicalpunkwrites]

The Cave

Long time no see! Sorry it’s been a while. I’ve been in grad school and it’s pretty much sucked the life out of me. But I really missed writing so I figured I could write for my favorite character. Thank you so much for reading! Pairings: Leonard McCoy x Kirk!Reader

*Part two is here

Words: 4.8K

Warnings: injury, fluff, angst (?), swearing, badly written fight scene, Leonard and Reader being stubborn shits, Spock being a cocky shit

Tags: @bloodangelballerina @theweepingvulcan91​ If anyone else would like to be added let me know!

“Captain.” Spock greeted as he caught up to his friend. Jim clapped him on the shoulder. “I must commend you and Commander Kirk on your success in Nuvaruta. Not many would have been able to complete that mission.” 

“Eh, nothing we couldn’t handle. I’m just surprised she didn’t drop the artifact when she got hit!” Jim laughed. 

“Well, it was only a flesh wound. A woman of her position is surely used to it by now. No need to worry about her.” An ensign brushed by Jim, yelping out an apology. 

“She’s still my sister, Spock. Head of security or not, I always worry about her.”

“And captain or not, she will always worry about you.” 

“Well-” They both got quiet when they reached medbay, hearing yelling and seeing Nurse Chapel waiting outside the door, acting like nothing was happening and playing with her nails.

“Nurse Chapel, is everything alright?” Spock asked and she looked up at the science officer. 

“Oh, just the same thing every time Commander Kirk comes back from a mission.” Jim sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. 

“How many times are you gonna be in my damn medbay! I swear you get hurt more in a day than an ensign does in a whole year!” Leonard bit and you rolled your eyes. 

“How many times are you gonna complain every time you see me? I said thank you!” You replied. “You act like I’m ungrateful!”

“No you’re just stubborn as a bull!”

“Pot calling kettle black!” You laughed incredulously. “It’s in my job description to get hurt, it’s in yours to patch me up! But you can’t do that without henpecking at me every damn time!” 

Jim, Spock, and Christine all waited outside. By this point in the mission, they all knew that it was better to just wait it out than to break it up. 

“Henpecking?”

“Yes! I swear you like it when I come in because it gives you something to gripe about!”

“No because you coming in pushes me that much closer to an ulcer! Just get outta my medbay, I got work to do!”

“Gladly!” You walked out of medbay, looking to see the three waiting outside. “Hey.”

“Alright, c’mon. I need your report.” You and Jim walked away, leaving Christine and Spock near medbay. They walked in to see Leonard sitting at his desk with his forehead in his hand. 

“Doctor, are you alright?’ Christine asked and he sighed. 

“Yes, Nurse Chapel. I’m fine.” He replied. “Whaddya need, Spock?”

“I came here with no intention to talk to you, but now it seems I have. I would like to talk to you about Commander Kirk. Why is it that you two argue so much?” The vein in Leonard’s forehead seemed like it was about to pop as he turned to face the Vulcan. 

“Because she’s stubborn and reckless, that’s why!”

“As are you.” Christine looked at Spock with her eyebrows raised and stepped back a bit when Leonard stood up.

“I am not!”

“You are, which is why I am confused. Of course, you are not as reckless as Commander Kirk but you are as much if not more stubborn. You both share a drier sense of humor, both care a great deal about those you work with-”

“What’s your point, Spock?”

“I believe you become irritated when she’s hurt because you care for her. The more she gets hurt, the more irritable you become. There’s a remarkable amount of tension between you two.” Spock clasped his hands behind his back as Leonard walked up to him. “You are simply worried about her and are too stubborn to admit your feelings for her. Meaning it comes out in irritation and rage, making her angry and irritable.” 

“I don’t like her.”

“I think Commander Spock has a point...Doctor.” Christine interjected. “I think you’re also frustrated because you feel like you can’t like her. She is the Captain’s sister after all.”

“Good point, Nurse Chapel.” Spock commended. “It seems that she might be forbidden to our doctor.”

“A forbidden fruit, if you will.” Christine offered and Spock raised an eyebrow at her. Leonard rubbed his temples and she tried to hide her smile from him. 

“Spock, aren’t you needed on the bridge?”

“Oh no, not for some time.”

XXXXXX

Crew-

We are headed down to the planet of Thurilia. It is a barren planet that has not been inhabited in over 100 years but it carries another artifact integral to the Nimbus mission. Don’t mistake it’s barrenness for peace, there are hostile Romulans also looking for the artifact. We must also be wary of dust storms and flying debris from crash landed ships. For this mission I will require Commander Kirk, Commander Spock, and Doctor McCoy.  

“Got everything you need, lass?” You finished attaching your phaser, communicator, and collapsible kali. You missed your regular uniform, all of you required to wear a more suitable and impenetrable to the suffocating dust. It was too bulky for your liking but you knew it was more practical. 

“Ready, Scotty. Just make sure to remember to beam us up.” You clapped his shoulder and jogged over to the teleporter. Of course, the only spot was next to Leonard. “Dr. McCoy.”

“Commander.” You noticed Spock looking over at the two of you and you furrowed your brows at him. 

“Ready, Scotty.” Jim stated. You would never get used to the tingling of the teleporter. It would always be a strange sensation no matter how many times you used it. You all landed on the planet and you wondered if it made Spock feel the least bit homesick. It was a desert, but the sand was purple and the sky always dark. 

“Alright, everyone make sure your masks work. We’ll only have a little bit of warning before a storm kicks in. Lieutenant Uhura will be watching that for us. It gives off a a chemical signature but that’ll be hard to pinpoint with the dust and the crash sites. If you spot any romulans, call for backup and don’t fight them alone.”

“Should we go off in pairs, Captain?”

“I think we should. Might attract less attention and we might find it faster.”

“I shall go with you then, Captain.” You and Leonard’s heads snapped up from your tricorders. 

“Of course, Mr. Spock.” 

“Jim are you sure splitting up is the best idea?” You replied and Jim patted you on the shoulder. 

“Of course. I want you two to go northeast towards the strongest signature. Spock and I will go southwest towards the strongest signature.” The two walked away, leaving you and Leonard standing dumbfounded. 

“That green blooded hobgoblin.” Leonard muttered under his breath as you started following the signature. 

“You comin’ or not?” You called over your shoulder. He jogged up to catch up with you and pulled out his own tricorder. You were both silent, the only sounds coming from the wind and the robes you were wearing flapping. 

“How’s your shoulder?” He asked and you looked over at him quickly.

“It’s much better now, thank you.” He nodded. However, he wasn’t looking where he was stepping and felt his foot sinking down quickly. “Leonard!” The sand felt like it was grappling him, staining his robes a deep purple against the brown. You grabbed his arms and started to pull him out, your feet lacking traction and eventually you resorted to digging your knees in and pulling him along as he kicked. The grip loosened and he fell on top of you, pushing you into the sand. He quickly rolled off of you and panted like a wild dog. 

“Are you alright?”

“I’m fine, this is why I hate space.” He replied and you chuckled. 

“Welp, gives you one more thing to complain about.” You stood up, dusting off your robes and offered your hand to him. “Watch where you’re stepping.” 

“Yeah, yeah, got it.” He took it and you helped him up. “This place is a death trap.”

“I dunno, I kinda like it.” You responded. “If you look closely, the sand sparkles a bit.”

“I just got a close look, or have you already forgotten?” You rolled your eyes and kept following the signature. 

“You could’ve gotten a closer look had I not been here.” The two of you were silent save for the wind and the beeping of your tricorders. It was so peaceful yet destructive at the same time. No one could possibly live there, it had claimed the lives of so many and had become a resting ground for pieces of space travel. But the silence, the stars, it was beautiful in a way. 

“Commander, Doctor, I’m picking up a storm. Might want to head for cover.” Uhura informed over your communicators. 

“See any structures?” Leonard asked. You squinted down at your tricorder, the sandy wind already picking up. 

“There’s a cave near us, if we hurry we can get there before it gets too bad!” You called back. As you traveled, it became increasingly difficult to move or see. You had to trust your tricorder and stick close to Leonard.

Suddenly, something whizzed by in front of the both of you. 

Then another.

“Hurry!” You called back and grabbed his hand. From what you can guess, pieces of a nearby ship had begun to fly off. Each piece nearly missed you by mere feet. At least for a little bit.

“Ah!” Leonard cried and faltered a bit.

“We’re almost to the cave! I can see it!” You pushed him into the cave and looked to your left. A large piece of metal was bounding right towards you. You yelped and jumped in, right before the metal buried itself in the sand. You stared blankly as you realized it had blocked the entrance save for a small corner at the top. You turned around when you heard Leonard hiss in pain and saw blood soaking his robes. A piece of shrapnel had impaled itself into his side. “Leonard! Are you okay?”

“I’ll be fine!” He snapped and you sighed, pulling back the robes and mask from your face. 

“You lay down, I’m going to get some light in here.” You pulled out your phaser and luckily found a pile of rocks. You shot at them, making them burn a bright red and give off some light. “Where’s your med kit?”

“What?”

“We gotta fix that up. Just tell me what to do and I’ll do it. Where’s your medkit?” you unwrapped part of your robes and made a makeshift pillow for him as he pulled out his kit. 

“You sure about this?”

“You got a better idea?” He laid down and rested his head. You cut away at the fabric on the robes and he jumped when it pulled at the piece of shrapnel.

“Be careful!” 

“I’m trying to be, you mule!” You snapped back and he stared at you.

“Did you just call me a mule?”

“A mule that’s gonna tell me how to stitch it up.” He sighed and prepared himself.

“Alright, hit me with the hypospray on the furthest right. That’ll numb it.” You did it quickly. “Now turn whatever’s in there.”

“What?” You yelped. “Turn it.” You did as he asked, wincing as it spun through the flesh slightly. He could still feel a little bit it wasn’t that painful. “Okay it turned, it’s just in my flesh, not a rib. Now pull it out.” “But that’ll make you bleed more.”

“Just do it.” You prepared yourself and quickly yanked it out. He jumped again and winced. “Third hypospray from the right!” You quickly injected it and the bleeding immediately slowed. “Take the device on the top left and do a criss-cross on it.” You did it, watching as the material tightened up and closed the wound. “Now clean it and let’s hope we’re found before it’s infected.” 

“You don’t have a hypospray for that?” He just looked at you, making you roll your eyes. “Are you alright?”

“I will be.” You pulled out your communicator.

“Kirk to Kirk.”

“Kirk here.”

“Doctor McCoy and I are trapped in a cave by a piece of a ship. I’ll send you our location so that you two can come get us when the storm’s over.” “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine, Doctor McCoy got hit by a piece of shrapnel.”

“I’ll be fine, Jim.” Leonard called out. 

“You two hang tight, we’ll be there as soon as we can.” You took off the rest of your robes, leaving you in a black top and pants. 

“Are you cold?”

“No, I’m fine.” Leonard replied. 

“How many of those numbing hyposprays do you have?”

“One more. I’ll let you know if it gets too bad.” He replied and you nodded. You were both silent as you took inventory of what you had in the cave. You had some emergency stuff but if the storm lasted a while there might be trouble. 

“Thanks.”

“Huh?” You spun your head around and saw Leonard looking at you.

“Thank you, for fixing me up. You did a pretty good job.”

“You’re welcome. I think that’s the first genuine compliment you’ve ever given me.” You smirked and he chuckled. 

“I guess I’ve been a little rough on you.” You sniffed in laughed and sat down next to him, getting close to him and the rock for warmth. 

“A little?” 

“Alright, alright, I get it.” He replied. “I guess I can be a little to hard on you.” You hummed in response. “Y’know you’re not that much of a peach yourself.”

“A georgia peach?” You replied and he rolled his eyes. “Look, I know I’m not the easiest person to work with but you’re not either. And we’re stuck in this cave together until they come and get us. So all we have to do is not kill each other until Jim and Spock come or something comes to kill us.”

“Comforting.” He replied.

“I try.”

XXXXXX

You were busy going through your logs on your PADD, sneaking your eyes over to Leonard every now and then to make sure he was alright. To make the time pass by a little faster, you played music lowly. Of course you two had to argue about what kind of music for a little bit before you just put on some Tchaikovsky. You had some spattered communication with Jim and Spock but the dust storms had picked up too much to the point they had to hole up somewhere too. Last you checked, they were still okay and the doctor had taken his last hypospray.

“So, why did you join up?” You were broken out of your thoughts to see Leonard messing around with a small rock in his hands. 

“Someone’s gotta keep an eye on Jim, might as well be me.”

“That’s it?”

“I don’t really have a more noble or complicated reason. I didn’t really have any other place I wanted to go. Plus I didn’t want to stay in one place too long, I get too antsy. My parents did it, George joined up, Jim joined up, then I did. I get to strategize, protect, travel, and be with Jim at the same time.”

“So it was just the right thing to do?”

“In a sense. I mean, it’s always been me and Jim. I couldn’t imagine not being able to see him for five years. Jim always kept me out of trouble, I kept him from flying too close to the sun.”

“So you’ve always been a pain in the ass?” You genuinely laughed at that. 

“Yeah, I’ve always been a little shit. But I’ve put that energy towards keeping people safe and annoying you. Now I’ve told my story, spill.” He sighed and adjusted himself a little against the ground. 

“Eh, not much to tell. Wife left, I was a doctor that needed to get away, and found myself at star fleet.”

“I’ll never Jim calling me that day and telling me about you. He said you were some hypochondriac that nearly threw up on him in the plane.”

“And Jim told me you were his hot headed sister who couldn’t keep your trap shut.”

“And look where we are now: trapped in the same cave.” You mused. “Wanna play 20 questions?”

“What?” “I don’t know how long we’re gonna be here, might as well pass the time. I’ll go first if you want.” He sighed and nodded his head in agreement. “Alright, what do you miss most about Georgia?” You leaned against the cave wall on the other side of him, crossing your arms across your chest. 

“I know I’ll sound like an old southern gentleman but sitting on a front porch in a rocking chair.” You sniffed in laughter and he looked over at you with an annoyed look.

“Hey, I’m not judging. It does make you sound like an old man. Ask me a question.” He thought for a moment or two.

“What are you afraid of? There has to be something.” You groaned and covered your face. “C’mon!”

“No, you’ll laugh!”

“I won’t laugh, I promise. With what you’ve seen and done, it has to be truly scary.” He reasoned and you shook your head. “Then what is it?”

“It’s...birds. I’m afraid of birds.” There was silence between the two of you. 

“Are we talking geese or-” “Doesn’t matter. I’m deathly afraid of all birds.” When he didn’t say anything else, you looked up from your palm to see his body shaking with laughter. “Hey! You said you wouldn’t laugh!”

“With everything we’ve seen!” “Alright Hercules, other than space what are you most afraid of?”

“Flying.”

“Man you chose the wrong job.”

“Come over here, I can barely hear you.” You rolled your eyes but made your way over to the wall next to him, resuming you previous position.  “What do you miss doing that you can’t do on the Enterprise?”

“I miss cooking. I love to cook and it sucks that we only have replicators. I’m a pretty good chef if I do say so. I make a mean skillet pot pie.”

“That sounds dangerous. I do miss home cooking.”

For the next fourteen questions, you found out a lot about each other. You both enjoy reading in your spare time, both think Jim and Carol should suck it up and go out already, you had the same favorite old tv show, and generally had a lot in common with each other. You told stories about your youth like when you fell of the roof of your grandfather’s barn, when you rescued a stray dog you found in some cornfield in Iowa, and how your father had raised you to become an old movie buff. He told you about med school and the time that he accidentally ate a hallucinogenic plant and was tripping for three days. It seemed like he could be just as reckless as you sometimes. He told stories of before you joined up and the adventures he and Jim were on, how many times he had pretty much saved Jim but didn’t think he did anything special. You would’ve hated to admit it before but you were enjoying getting to know him.

“After Starfleet, what do you want to do?” He asked. At this point, you were laying down next to him, sharing your robes as a pillow. 

“I don’t know.”

“Don’t cop out now.” He chuffed and you shook your head.

“I really don’t know, McCoy. This i pretty much all I’ve ever known. You can go to a hospital or clinic, I don’t know where else to go. I don’t want to be a civilian officer, don’t want to be a body guard to some stuffy politician.”

“You can settle down?” You snorted. 

“Yeah, me, settle down.”

“You don’t want to?”

“It’s not that I don’t want to. Yeah, I want to be married and have kids one day but I just don’t think it’ll happen. I have a difficult job where I get hurt on a daily basis. Not a lot of people can handle that.”

“You’ll find somebody, Kirk. You’re a catch.” You looked over at him with a smirk. “Don’t tell anyone I told you that.” You laughed and propped yourself up on your elbows and looked at the open area at the corner of the cave.

“Last one, what’s one thing you wish you had known more about before today?”

“You.” He answered and you looked down at him. “I used to think you were the most annoying person on the ship. I was always too hard on you and didn’t even try to talk to you without Jim there to keep us calm.”

“Why did we both decide to hate each other?” You laid back down next to him. “Seems like if we weren’t on that ship we would get along well.” You were silent for a little while. “Perhaps we’re both stubborn. I didn’t like you because you didn’t like me. From the first time I got hurt-”

“You’re Jim’s sister. Jim’s my best friend. The first time you got hurt, I felt an even more overwhelming sense of duty. I had to take care of you even more so than my other patients. Not only are you his sister, you protect us with little regard to yourself. You’re only afraid of birds, not death. I know this is all jumbled but...I think I was scared to get to know you because-” You noticed how his speech was becoming slightly slurred.

“That sense of duty would be even stronger.” You were both silent again. “I’m sorry, Leonard.”

“I’m sorry too.”

“How about when we get out of here we share a drink. I’ve got some damn good whiskey I think you’d enjoy.”

“Sounds like a deal.” You shot up when you heard banging at the front of the cave and grabbed your phaser. You slowly made your way to the large piece of metal and heard some talking on the other side. 

“Romulans.” You muttered and hurried back over to Leonard. You cursed when you saw that he had begun sweating again, his skin pale and clammy. “Leonard, listen to me. I have to move you behind the rocks alright?” He nodded as his head lulled to the side. You grasped underneath his arms and began to drag him, noting that the piece of metal was moving slowly in the sand. “Don’t make a sound, alright? I’ll take care of them and we’ll get back to the Enterprise.” You turned to go away and find some cover but her grabbed your hand.

“Wait, Kirk.” You looked back down at him and he squeezed your hand. “Don’t make me patch you up again.” You smiled softly.

“I’ll do my best.” You hurried to a rock on the other side of the cave and waited for the Romulans to breach. It took them a little time but they finally moved the shrapnel enough to get through. You weren’t well versed in linguistics so you couldn’t make out what they were saying. They came over to the rock serving as heat and light and muttered amongst themselves. They knew someone was there. You could hear them growing closer and heard their phasers click off, presumably not to stun. You looked over at Leonard and saw his shaky breathing, you couldn’t let them find him. As they got closer to you, you finally popped over the rock and shot one of them in the knee and the other in the shoulder, stunning them. You sighed and almost went over to Leonard before a shot rang out and grazed past you.

There was one more waiting outside the cave. 

You hurried back behind your rock and thought about what to do. You could try to get some shots out but he had you cornered, he’d easily hit you first. If he got you, then he would get Leonard. He could also easily ambush Jim and Spock. You decided your best option was to wait and try to get the upper hand if he decided to move closer. 

You listened for his footsteps, grating the sand underneath him. If you could disarm him then you would get your chance. He wouldn’t wait for you to surrender, you didn’t wait for them. He was calling out something to you and even with the language barrier you knew he was cursing you out. As soon as you heard him close enough, you leapt over the rock and tackled him. You rolled to the other side of the cave and you tried to smash his hand against the wall so he would drop his phaser. You felt him kick your shin, then kneeing your hip and you cried out. With one last hit, he dropped his phaser but before you could get your shot, he punched your jaw and flipped the two of you over. You tried to shoot again but the shot just went to the rocks above. He now held your wrists in a crushing grip, willing you to let go. You did the only thing you could do and kick for some sort of advantage. You went for his knees, his stomach, any place you could think.  He was starting to get irritated, he was starting to get desperate. He let go of your unarmed hand to grab the knife in his belt and your eyes went wide. You had to act fast. You grabbed the only thing you could, a rock, and hit him in the side of the head. He finally let you go and you scurried away from him, training you phaser on him. You didn’t realize how hard you had hit him and realized he wasn’t going to move any time soon as blood came from his temple.  You hurried back over to Leonard to see that his eyes were drooping. 

“Leonard! Stay with me!”

“Are you hurt?”

“Just bruised, I’m fine. Hang in there, alright? We’ll figure this out!”

“Commander!” You heard a familiar voice call. 

“Spock!” You cried out. “Hurry, we need to get Dr. McCoy out of here.”

“On our way!” Jim yelled back. You looked back over at Leonard and held his hand. 

“C’mon Leonard, we’re almost there.”

XXXXXX

The events on Thurilia changed a lot of things. It was noticed immediately that you and Leonard weren’t bickering as much. Nurse Chapel noticed that the vein in his head wasn’t ready to pop at a moments notice anymore. It didn’t seem as explosive. Of course, there was still an argument after he quickly recovered about her almost getting stabbed but it wasn’t nearly as tense as the others. 

However, that wasn’t the only thing that got the crew talking. 

Leonard was no longer in his uniform. Instead, he was in his civilian clothes that he usually wore once the day was done: a pair of sweats and an old t-shirt from his college days. He walked down the halls of the enterprise late in the night to get to your door, two glasses in his hands. He knocked and the door soon slid open to reveal you in your civilian clothes with a smile: a fleet sweatshirt and a pair of shorts. It was a little shocking for you to see each other out of uniform but it was oddly comforting. It had shown that the time in the cave had done a lot of good. You two visiting each other for a nightcap had become a regular occurrence.

“What movie did you pick?” He asked as he walked in. 

“Princess Bride. It’s a movie from the 1980s.” His eyes widened, still shocked about your movie collection. “It’s got fencing, fighting, torture, revenge, giants, monsters, escapes, true love, miracles!”

“Sounds surprisingly sappy for you.” He chuckled as he poured the drinks. You sat down on your bed with the remote in hand and rolled your eyes. 

“Did you not hear the first part of that?  What with all the violence?” He offered you a glass and you gladly took it. 

“Yeah, yeah I heard you. It sounds great.” He sat down next to you against the headboard and you started the movie. It was a little off-putting how grainy it was but you insisted it added to the charm of the film. The movie continued and Leonard looked down to see the stars in your eyes as you watched. You were absolutely mesmerized by the story and kept telling him facts about the film. He noticed the tightness in his chest and coughed a little, hoping it was just the burn of the whiskey. 

But it didn’t go away. 

XXXXXX

Spock and Uhura watched with wide eyes as they rounded the corner to see Leonard smiling with two glasses in his hand as he walked into your room. 

“Spock, tell me I’m not hallucinating.”

“I believe, ashayam, we are witnessing what you humans call a miracle.” 

[pretchatta]

prompt: holiday

dave said it's my turn to write a moons of rion fic

rating: teen; kanan jarrus/hera syndulla; 2.4k words

---

The Outer Rim planet of Rion was a tropical paradise. Beaches, bars and breathtaking views covered its surface, and the sight of the planet in the forward viewport made Kanan sigh with longing. So close, and yet so far.

It felt like he and Hera had been working non-stop for the past year. Between keeping the Ghost in fuel, the galley stocked, and working other (less well-paid, but Hera would argue more important) jobs, Kanan would like nothing more than to spend a few hours relaxing somewhere – anywhere – with Hera. They were something now; more than simply captain and crew, but exactly what that was Kanan hadn’t had time to find out.

He wouldn’t any time soon, either. This mission wasn’t even taking them to Rion itself, but to one of its moons. A quick pickup and then they’d fly straight back to Lothal to deliver it, get paid, and then move onto the next job.

Kanan sighed. “Remind me what the cargo is for this one?”

“I don’t know,” Hera replied absently as she steered the Ghost in an orbital path around Rion. Their destination appeared from behind the planet, the oceanic moon a deep blue colour dotted with small green-and-white islands. Just beyond it, its populated twin was also visible. “Vizago paid extra for discretion, but he didn’t offer me the dangerous goods fee, so I assume it’s at least safe.”

Kanan grimaced. “We’re relying on the integrity of a smuggler. I feel so reassured.”

“We need the credits, love. We’ve barely got enough fuel to make this delivery.” Hera gave the fuel gauge a worried look as the Ghost entered the moon’s atmosphere and they began their descent. Below them, taking up most of one of the smaller islands, Kanan could see a landing platform growing larger.

Hera touched the Ghost down with barely a bump. Had Kanan not realised months ago that his days of drifting were behind him, he knew he would find it very difficult to return to his old lifestyle. There were several comforts that came from crewing on the Ghost, the smooth landings being just one.

“Alright, let’s load up and get going.” Hera hit the ramp controls and led the way out of the cockpit.

Spaceport was a generous term for what greeted them outside. The battered landing platform was barely large enough for two ships, even though it took up most of the solid ground on the island, and the only permanent structure was a dilapidated single-storey hut. It looked like it was cobbled together from scrap, with the exception of the shiny solar panels stretched over the roof and the comm dish mounted haphazardly on one wall.

There were no windows, but the front door stuttered open as Kanan and Hera emerged from the Ghost. An ancient-looking prototype droid emerged, hobbling out towards them with slow, fitful steps.

“Welcome to landing site R-M2-S04,” it called out to them. Its mechanical voice was decidedly tinny. “I am C0-R4, the overseer droid for this location. Thank you for leaving your transponder on. Your ship has been identified as the Ghost.”

Droid-supervised transactions weren’t uncommon in their line of work. The handoffs were usually in remote locations like this one, and it was much cheaper to leave a droid to wait around than an organic being.

“We’re here to pick up Vizago’s shipment,” Hera told the droid.

“That is correct.” C0-R4 gave a jerky nod. “Your cargo will arrive in two days.”

“What?” Hera exclaimed. “Two days! We were told to come today, and that this job was time-critical!”

“Cikatro Vizago apologises for the unavoidable delay, but he understands that you have a fast ship.”

Hera glared at the droid, though Kanan knew her ire was in fact directed at their unreliable employer. “And what exactly are we supposed to do for the next two days?”

“I am not programmed for leisure itinerary planning,” it replied in its monotone. “I will be in low power mode until the shipment arrives. Good day.”

With that, the protocol droid turned and hobbled back into its hut. Hera stared after it in disbelief. Kanan, meanwhile, felt hope blooming in his chest.

“I know you’d rather get on with the job,” he said slowly, trying to keep his voice neutral, “but given our fuel situation, it looks like we’re staying in this system for the next two days. And since Rion’s right there…”

She turned to him with one eyebrow raised. His face must have shown more than he realised, because her eyes softened with sympathy.

“Kanan, I’d love to spend a few days on Rion with you, but we don’t have enough fuel to get there,” she said apologetically. “We barely have enough to take off and make it back to Lothal.”

Kanan was not deterred. “Okay, what about the Phantom? It has a separate fuel tank – we could take it to one of the resorts, stay for a few days and be back in time for the pickup.”

Hera shook her head. “I should probably siphon the Phantom’s fuel into the Ghost. We’re going to need it if we want the extra speed to make Vizago’s deadline.”

Kanan sighed. The captain's decision was final. “Fine. I guess we’re sitting here for two days eating stale rations. Hopefully the Ghost’s water purifier can handle the seawater.”

“Wait, rations? Don’t we have enough food?”

“We might have a couple dehydrated meal packs, but I was going to stock up when we got back to Lothal.”

Hera frowned. “I guess this is going to be a long two days.”

“It doesn’t have to be…” Kanan’s mind was racing as a new idea formed in his head. “Could you leave just enough fuel in the Phantom to make one trip to the other moon? It’s populated, and it’ll take less fuel to take off from because of the lower gravity. And right now it’s closer than Rion itself. I still have a few credits – not enough for fuel, but we could pick up some supplies, and then spend the next two days just relaxing here. It’s not exactly a luxury resort getaway, but it’s better than nothing.”

Hera looked unconvinced. “I don’t know…”

“Come on, Hera, we’ll still be able to make the delivery,” he pleaded. “And this way we can enjoy a few days of downtime! We’ve got nothing else to do, and it’s not like we’re going to get any trouble from the Empire out here.”

He could see her resolve wavering, and then–

“Okay, fine.”

Kanan resisted the urge to punch the air as she turned to walk back up the Ghost’s ramp.

“Chopper,” she called up to the cockpit, “work out the best course to the other moon, and be nice to the navicomputer this time! Then I want you to initiate a fuel transfer from the Phantom to the Ghost. Leave enough to make the trip to the other moon, Kanan and I will be going on a supply run when we get back.”

The old astromech blatted a question back at her from somewhere above them. Hera looked back at Kanan.

“We’re going for a walk,” she replied. “You’d hate it, you’d just get sand in your joints.”

Chopper made a rude noise, which Hera ignored.

“A romantic stroll along the beach, huh?” Kanan said, putting an arm around her waist.

“If we’re doing this, I should at least try to relax, and it seems like a good start.” Her arms snaked over his shoulders and around his neck, allowing him to pull her closer. Their noses brushed, lips an inch apart, but Kanan turned his head at the last moment to kiss her cheek instead.

“In that case…” he murmured against her earcone, and then dropped to his knees in front of her and gently lifted one of her knees. Hera complied, allowing him to raise her foot and slip her boot off it.

“You’re overdressed,” he continued. “Unlike Chopper, we can enjoy the feeling of sand between our toes.”

He finished removing her other boot, and looked up to see her smiling fondly down at him. He quickly shed his own boots, leaving both pairs just inside the cargo hold, and as an afterthought added his gloves. Hera did the same, allowing Kanan to take her bare hand and lead them back outside.

The beach was only a few steps away, and they strolled leisurely over the sun-warmed sand towards the brilliant blue water. Above, the odd fluffy white cloud floated in the teal-blue sky as the late afternoon sun shone down on the island. A faint breeze blew in from the sea, cooling the air and bringing with it the smell of salt.

Kanan ran his thumb over the back of Hera’s hand as a sense of calmness washed through him. Hera was right; the walk was a great idea. The sand was soft under his feet and with every step he could feel his body relaxing.

They stopped at the water’s edge, letting the waves lap at their toes. The water wasn’t exactly warm, but neither was it cold. They stood there for a few moments in comfortable silence, enjoying the tranquility.

Hera bumped her shoulder against Kanan’s. “Thank you,” she said. “I don’t think I would have let myself have a break if I’d been on my own, but… I needed this.”

He raised his eyebrows in mock astonishment. “Are you saying what I think you're saying?”

She rolled her eyes at him. “You were right, dear.”

He smirked, and then leaned down to kiss her. She rose onto her toes to meet him. As with every time their lips met, Kanan felt a jolt of electricity through his stomach; he didn’t think he’d ever get used to kissing Hera Syndulla.

They resumed their walk, following the coastline. Doing a full circuit of the island wouldn’t take long. As far as Kanan could tell, there was no wildlife on this moon, but the lapping of the waves and the slide of their feet over the sand made for a perfect soundtrack.

“So, do you have anything in particular you want to pick up on this supply run?” Hera asked him.

“I thought we could get some fancy caf,” he replied, “y’know, since we're on holiday. And then something simple to eat that we could have on the beach.”

“That sounds good to me.”

He turned to give her a look. “We may be on a budget, but I like to eat out.”

She only managed to keep a straight face for a few seconds before laughing.

They were distracted from further conversation by a wide rock formation on the far side of the landing platform. Several meters tall at its highest point, it looked like it was made up of numerous pillars of dark stone, jutting upwards out of the ground and ending in flat, irregular shapes. The lower ones around the edge held small pools of water from the last high tide, but they were taller towards the middle and beyond a certain point the tops were smooth and dry. The beach continued around the edge, the sand stretching between the rocks and the sea, but the Ghost and the overseer droid’s hut were hidden from view.

They approached the rocks with interest. Kanan was only half-aware of Hera’s hand slipping out of his as he went to examine one of the rockpools and so didn't notice the mischievous look that had come over her face. By the time he realised she was no longer beside him, she had already removed the outer layer of her flight suit and folded neatly atop one of the dry pillars. He could only watch, wide-eyed and slack-jawed, as she quickly and methodically worked on the rest of her clothing.

Hera carefully added her cap and goggles to the pile she had formed and then looked up at him. His heart beat faster at the sight of so much bare green skin. With a coy smile, she held his gaze as she slipped her underwear off and let it join the rest of her clothes.

“Fancy a swim?”

She didn’t wait for an answer; Kanan wasn’t sure he was capable of giving one. She turned and ran over the beach, lekku streaming behind her, splashing into the water until it was up to her neck.

She turned back to him and yelled “Well? Are you coming?”

It was enough to jolt him out of his shock. He’d left his armour behind today, so his shirt came off easily. The rest of his clothes followed in a somewhat messier pile than Hera’s, but creases weren’t on the forefront of his mind at that moment.

Kanan took off at a sprint towards the sea. When he was about halfway to the water he leapt, giving himself an extra push that made it higher and further than a leap any ordinary human should have been able to make. Tucking his knees into his chest in mid-air, he hit the surface with a splash, sending a wall of water over Hera. The cool water enveloped his body with swirls of white and blue. He kicked at the sandy sea bed to surface next to Hera, who was sputtering in protest.

Kanan wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close.

“You did invite me in,” he reminded her. His sodden hair was slicked back against his head and water dripped from the end of his nose. Further droplets ran over Hera's bare head and down her lekku, adding to the patterns already there.

“I didn’t ask for a tsu–”

He cut off her complaints with a wet kiss. She relaxed in his arms a second later, though he knew he had’t gotten away with it; she’d be planning her payback for later. He smiled against her lips and felt her mouth curve upwards in response. It really had been too long since they’d been able to just let go like this, to enjoy their time together and not have any pressing worries or responsibilities.

The kiss deepened, and Hera’s legs wound around his waist. Whoever's idea this had been, he thought to himself, it was definitely a good one.

[blushnote]

Can you do something with Wonwoo and Seungcheol going down on you????

↳ requested | 2.0k words

↳ seungcheol & wonwoo x reader smut

a/n: these two are such a great combo, honestly. the deep voice duo. no warnings, just some overstim and dirty talk!

“are you sure the door is locked?”

“it’s locked. no one is interrupting us.”

you watch wonwoo jiggle the door handle to express the lock is in place. it calms you down, knowing that no drunken straggler or an anxious freshman looking to escape the noise could possibly enter seungcheol’s bedroom. there’s a party that rages beneath the floorboards, to which you still taste the fiery shot of tequila that prickles against the back of your throat. the alcohol also cools your nerves. it’s the first time you’ve ever done something like this.

releasing a small sigh, you lean back into seungcheol’s chest and stare at the ceiling.

“everything okay?” he hums attentively, squeezing your hips.

“just nervous.” you reply as the butterflies multiply rapidly in your lower tummy.

you’re nervous, but you trust seungcheol and wonwoo more than anyone else in the frat. they couldn’t help note that you’d been rather tense lately upon settling into your new semester, leading them to propose an offer you couldn’t refuse: the two eating you out at their upcoming frat party. you’d be lying through your damn teeth if you said you never thought about either of them in a carnal light, their gritty, deep voices whispering exactly how they wanted to ruin you.

and as wonwoo kneels next to you on the bed, a mellow glint buried in his wolfish eyes, you can already feel your body ache for a risky touch. you’re dressed in a black tank-top and the tiny, lace pink underwear that wonwoo was insistent you wore. seungcheol had helped you remove your jeans earlier.

“you’re nervous?” wonwoo purrs, his fingertips drifting from the inside of your knee up to your inner thigh, “i’ll be sure to fix that problem for you, baby.”

you hold in a bated breath as wonwoo leans forward, his lips just brushing your ear, warm breath tickling against your sensitive skin.

“i’ll be sure to treat your pussy so well that it’s all you’ll ever think about.”

seungcheol chuckles at his friend’s dirty mouth. you can feel the older boy’s hands gently push up the tank-top’s bottom hem, revealing a sliver of your stomach. wonwoo kisses you, soft and sweet, only to pull away with a sinister colour to his face while his hand cups between your thighs. at the simple contact, your hips buck shallowly, and the two boys delight to have you already so desperate and pliable. wonwoo gently massages his fingers against you, grinning.

“can feel you getting soaked right through these pretty panties,” he runs his tongue along his bottom lip, “i’m going to have so much fun playing with you, sweetheart.”

wonwoo has you bend your knees and spread your thighs apart, allowing him enough room to view your wet core, how the arousal dampens slowly through your pink underwear. a deep sigh falls from your nose, and you reposition the back of your head against seungcheol’s shoulder in anticipation, watching as wonwoo presses his thumb pad to your heat so he can place teasing strokes. you squirm slightly, though seungcheol grabs your waist, keeping you held down.

“why’re you being so mean?” the older boy laughs. “she’s already whimpering.”

wonwoo smiles devilishly. he then makes piercing eye contact with you, just as he pokes out his tongue and draws a slow, light lick overtop your pussy. the material barrier is pure frustration. you can’t help but mewl upon observing wonwoo dig the tip of his tongue into your sensitive bud and push hard, delicious warmth and pressure radiating through the thin, pink cotton.

“because,” he grins, “i like watching such a pretty girl squirm.”

without indication of his next move, wonwoo suddenly twists your underwear aside with his fingers and drags his tongue against your glistening slit, prompting you to gasp loudly, your hips jolting upward. seungcheol slams you down, smirking at the magnitude of your reaction.

“how’s she taste?” the older boy coos, sounding intrigued.

wonwoo digs his tongue past your slit, collecting a thick, plentiful taste of your arousal, one that engenders his eyes to flutter shut while you feel his muscle twist deep inside you. the sensation is incomparable, and pleasure scatters beneath your skin like a jar of split glitter. he removes his sticky tongue with a throaty, satisfied groan and presses a wide lick up to your clit.

“you’ll know when you’re between her thighs.” wonwoo chuckles. “i could lick her pretty cunt all fucking day.”

seungcheol merely huffs in response, though he can’t seem to peel his engorged stare from the manner in which his friend pleasures your heat. still holding your underwear aside, wonwoo utilizes his free hand to continue teasing you. he begins rubbing circles against your swollen bud with the rough grit of his thumb, all while his slick tongue traces back and forth overtop your slit. you can feel how the juices trickle onto the bedsheets, creating a dark, damp print.

you’ve never been eaten out like this before – it’s cosmic, paralyzing even, and you’re so submerged in the euphoria that you didn’t realize the tears wetting your cheeks. wonwoo spreads your lips, the fine tip of his tongue swirling softly over your clit. immediately, you release a sharp cry and attempt to ride the boy’s face, your half-mumbled curses sounding over the strong bass that echoes from below. you keen to burst like a trapped flame.

“gonna cum, sweetheart?” wonwoo hums, his tone deep and smooth.

your bottom lip quivers, the perspiration glinting on your forehead as you struggle to piece together anything articulate. the sole thing you can feel is the slippery warmth of wonwoo’s tongue toying with your clit, how he switches between rhythmic patterns and delicate, teasing kitten-licks. your fingers flesh deep into the comforter beneath you, your chest arching.

“mmf—y-yes, g’nna cum, i n-need it bad. p-please, wonwoo? please please w-will you make me cum?” you plea unabashedly, your eyes hooded, hardly able to stay open.

seungcheol grits his teeth and curses under his breath at hearing just how lascivious and strained your voice has become. in fact, you can feel his hardening length poke into your tailbone, to which you’re positive that your ample squirming isn’t doing him any favours. all of a sudden, seungcheol’s hands are pushing up your top, revealing your perked, bare chest. wonwoo’s eyes glimmer upon seeing your breasts. he nips at your clit and chuckles roughly.

“fuck, that’s hot. touch her chest, seungcheol,” he orders, “i want her to cum so fucking hard that it drips all over my face.”

the older boy doesn’t hesitate to heed wonwoo’s guttural command. his large, warm palms grasp snuggly onto each breast, kneading the plush skin while you wither under the persistent stimulation. you turn your face into seungcheol’s neck, bottom lip quivering as wonwoo continues to harshly flick your swollen clit with his tongue. your climax reaches its tipping point when seungcheol rubs your nipples with his thumbs, euphoria completely basking your face.

in an uncontrollable surge, your back arches and your thighs attempt to bracket around wonwoo’s head, though the boy uses his strength to keep you still, splashes of your wet arousal glittering on wonwoo’s lips, nose, and chin. he only buries his face in deeper, taking a long breath of your scent and kissing over your sore clit. you can’t help but repetitively murmur his name, staring at wonwoo with half-lidded eyes while seungcheol pecks your temple.

“did that feel good, princess?” seungcheol purrs in his low, gravel tone, his hands unable to stop massaging your breasts.

“y-yeah, amazing.” you breathe out in response, to which wonwoo’s hot breath hits your core as he chuckles.

you see his tongue dart out to catch some of your cum that drips against his corner lip, evidently content at having your taste integrated so thickly on his palette.

“tired, baby?” wonwoo asks.

you shake your head. “n-no, i want more, please.”

despite your sensitivity and the dimming aftershock of such a perfect orgasm, there’s no way in hell you’re leaving the party without feeling seungcheol’s soft tongue prob between your thighs. the two boys exchange a satisfied grin before switching places on the bed. wonwoo releases a tight groan when you lean back into him, for your pressure is situated right against his erection, throbbing and painfully hard. he simply bites his lip and allows you to relax.

your fingertips curl into the bedsheets as you watch seungcheol examine the sopping, glimmering aftermath of your core, completely ruined and sensitive due to wonwoo’s expert tongue. at a careful pace, seungcheol presses two fingers past your slit, a low rumble sounding in his chest when he feels just how easily your walls suck in the digits. he pumps slowly, his large, brown eyes shielded by a carnal light upon hearing the sticky and lewd sounds creating your slick.

“so fucking wet…” he suddenly leans in and laps his tongue against your clit.

wonwoo slams your canting hips back down to the mattress, forcing you to properly withstand the warm sensation of seungcheol’s tongue laving messily against your bud, arousal soaking the boy’s fingers. you realize wonwoo is much more calculated when he eats you out. he teases and nips, only uses the very tip of his pink tongue, waits until you’re on the verge of tears before satisfying you with his lips suckling around your bud.

seungcheol is vigorous, hungry.

he licks at your pussy like he’s starved, completely overwhelming your shot nerves until there’s nothing but starry dots encompassing your eyelids, mouth permanently gaped open in a piercing moan. seungcheol effortlessly keeps your thighs apart with both his hands, now using only his mouth to spin you into oblivion. he pushes his tongue deep inside you, dragging the muscle against your walls, ensuring you feel how passionately he yearns to taste you.

“ff-fuck!” you cry out, heaving in a sharp breath, “c-can’t—nngh—t-too much!”

seungcheol smirks against your flesh, not allowing you a moments recollection before he’s parting your folds and taking your pulsing clit between his lips. he sucks hard, to which your entire body jolts, not knowing how to process the insane pleasure that mimics electricity running under your skin. the tears stream down your cheeks, incredibly cold against your neck, the room becoming hazy and the music seeming so distant.

“should i be gentler, honey?” seungcheol hums, tracing circles into your hipbones. “poor thing. your body’s so overwhelmed, hm? your pretty pussy can’t handle it?”

wonwoo trails his cool hands up your body. upon reaching your breasts, he gently takes each nipple between his index and middle finger, pulling up and pinching and squeezing your skin just to hear you mewl.

“you want us to stop, sweetheart?” wonwoo murmurs, placing kisses to your forehead that gleams with perspiration. “don’t want to ruin you too much.”

“n-no…” you shake your head, “w’nna cum… please…”

seungcheol smirks. it doesn’t take much longer before you utterly buckle. your second orgasm tears through you when seungcheol gently pulls back the hood of your clit to lick directly at the soft, swollen bud, his eyes closed in order to concentrate on the beautiful cadence pertaining to your every moan. your eyeballs roll back into your skull and your knuckles tremble as the pleasure deliciously melts. there is very little you can register in the aftermath, apart from knowing that an embarrassing amount of wetness had gushed from your core.

the next hour consists of the two boys slowly nurturing you back from the unprecedented intensity. while seungcheol fetches a damp washcloth to help clean the messiness between your thighs, wonwoo helps calm you down. he peppers light kisses to your shoulders and soothingly rubs your waist, attempting to work out the shivers that plague your body. by the time seungcheol returns, he has a water glass with him for you to drink later.

“you did so well for us, baby,” wonwoo hums against your ear, his voice a tranquil bass, “so, so well. you’re wonderful, you know that?”

your throat feels too parched; therefore, you don’t respond, only meet wonwoo’s stare with a sleepy smile and a slow nod. seungcheol guides the cloth cautiously between your legs.

“if you want, you can stay the night,” the older boy offers, “beds all yours, no problem.”

once seungcheol retrieves your clothes from the floor, he smiles sheepishly.

“plus, i gotta take care of some things.”

wonwoo huffs, his erection still pressed against your backside.

“same.”

[yandere-ac]

You get this a lot but can you do a Yandere Tom Nook X Reader, With Tom trying to comfort a recently ‘broken up’ with (Tomtotallydidntscareaway) reader? Sorry that It’s so specific lmao

Before I start let me just say. Anon, that’s not a specific request at all. You should see some of my requests lol. But anyways, this fic gets....special towards the end. Nothing actually happens but it’s a little suggestive so if that’s not your cup of tea then I wouldn’t suggest this one.

Yandere Tom X Reader

Closer

Pain. All you felt right now was pain. You were curled up on your bed, hugging your knees against your chest. You wanted to shrink down and implode, leaving this cruel world behind. You hated this, it hurt more than any wound. This was a wound to your heart, and you didn’t think it could ever heal. This is what you had been doing for the past two days. Cowering in your own bed only to cry your eyes out and needing to drink more water. For these past two days it felt like all you did was cry. Eating breakfast? Crying. Showering? Crying. Watching tv? Crying. You felt so lost, so helpless. What were you without him? You didn’t ever want to leave your house. What would the others say if they found you like this? Thinking about it only made you more sad, to think how they would be shocked then probably run up to you and give you a big hug. They’re are so sweet. Isabelle would probably give you a big embrace before taking you to the residential services where she’d make you tea and tell you it was gonna be okay. Thinking about it almost made you want to leave, but you couldn’t. You didn’t even have the energy to leave bed. You wished he was here to hug you, to tell you everything was gonna be okay...your Jamie....

Your silent room was filled with noice as you heard knocking on your door. You did nothing to open it but the knocking just continued. After a while you dragged yourself up, blanket still resting on your shoulders and engulfing you in a big shell of warmth and comfort against the coldness around you. You slowly made your way to the door, your feet dragging behind you in a sluggish manner. Opening the door slightly, just a creak so you could see who was there. It was the one and only Tom Nook. He looked at you with concern yet relief that you answered the door.

“Y/N? Are you okay sweetie?” He asked, slowly reaching his hand to you. He started to gently caress your arm all while looking at you. It felt...nice. You just wanted to drag him inside and give him a hug. “I heard about...about what happened. I’m very sorry about your boyfriend. May I come in?” He asked. You stayed silent for a few seconds. Your house was a mess and the state of you weren’t very pretty either. But it’s Tom. You knew him, you also knew that he wouldn’t judge you. So you opened the door and stepped inside to let him come in. He looked around the room as he entered. All blinds were closed, sealing the room in complete darkness. Pillows from the couch were spread all over the room and there were old dishes here and there. “Sorry for the mess...” you said as you closed the door behind him. “Oh don’t worry about it. Trust me, as a person who’s had their heart broken, I know it takes a toll on you.” Tom said nonchalantly as he picked up one pillow, fluffing it up a little. “Wait what?” “No no, we’re here for you now, not for me okay?” Tom said before the question could even leave your mouth. “Now, what I want you to do is go upstairs and take a nice long bath. Add bubbles, bath bombs, anything you want. Just relax and treat yourself. I’ll be here cleaning up.” This caught you off guard. “Huh? No I-I can’t do that. I mean leaving you to clean up MY mess while I get to relax? It wouldn’t feel right.” You tried to insist but Tom was practically pushing you upstairs. “Y/N I insist. I have two small boys at home, you should see the messes they make. This is nothing I assure you.” And so, you finally agreed. You went up to your bathroom and took a nice long bath. Trying to relax while taking deep breaths. You even poured some bubbles in the bathtub and after relaxing for a bit decided to start playing with them a little. Bouncing one foam ball from one hand into the other. You sat there for a while. Letting your worries melt away. You didn’t know why, but the thought of Tom distracted you from the thought of....him.

Walking down the stairs you saw that Tom really did clean up the entire house. He had lifted up the blinds, fluffed the pillows, placed everything neatly in order, even the dishes were gone. Looking walking into the kitchen you saw Tom putting down the final plate Into one of the cabinets. He had done the dishes. You felt yourself let out a sigh of amazement. This alerted Tom and caused him to turn around swiftly. Seeing that it was you he let his guard down. “Oh Y/N! There you are! Was the bath nice?” He asked. But you didn’t answer. You simply looked at him with love in your eyes. “Y/N? Is something wro-“ you ran up to him and embraced him tightly. Burying your face into his neck. As soon as you ran into his arms, he wrapped them around you. He nuzzled into your hair, and at that moment, everything felt perfect. “Thank you Tom...thank you thank you thank you!” You felt Toms chest vibrate at this as he let out a deep chuckle. “Oh Y/N, it was really no big deal. I’m happy to help you, any time.”

“So, what movie do you wanna watch?” You asked while rummaging through your old dvds, trying to find what movie to watch. “Umm, what movies do you have?” Tom asked you, sitting on your bed cross legged. “Oh well I have pirates of the Caribbean, spy kids, my neighbour- MY NEIGHBOUR TOTORO! Oh my god I had forgotten about this movie! Can we please watch this one?” You turned around to look at him, giving a big smile. Tom laughed slightly as your eyes became enormous with glee. “Alright then. I think I’ve watched this one time with Timmy and Tommy, but I fell asleep. Not to say that it’s bad I was just tired.” Tom said sheepishly, only realising halfway through the sentence that you might have taken his comment in the wrong way. But you simply laughed a little, putting the disk into the DVD player and plopping down next to Tom. “For real? Looks like you’re really getting the hang of this dad thing huh? Falling asleep on the couch as you’re watching a movie is integral to becoming a father!” You said jokingly as you nudged him slightly with your elbow. And so, you picked up the remote and played the movie. Throughout the duration of the movie, you and Tom scooted closer and closer together until your hands brushed against each other. Tom looked at your hand. He could feel an intense itch through his whole body. He wanted to grab your hand so badly but...should he? You’ve just been broken up with, he didn’t want to overwhelm you or make you uncomfortable. What if you didn’t appreciate it? What if you pulled away immediately? What if you scooted away from him and the air would grow heavy? What if-

But Tom wasn’t able to continue doubting himself as he felt a soft hand place itself on top of his. He could feel his heart speed up as he looked done at his hand. You were currently using your thumb to caress the side of his palm. As he looked up to you he was met by two eyes looking at him with a certain tender way. As he made eye contact with you he felt a slight blush creep onto his cheeks. Should he? And so, he gently grabbed your hand. And as he did this, you leaned your head against his shoulder, almost melting into the touch. After a few seconds of panic, Tom also leaned his head against your head, a million thoughts racing through his mind. But the most prominent being you, how soft your hair felt, how nice your hand in his felt, how good you smelled, how perfect you felt with him. Like you belonged here, here in his arms, away from the world. He didn’t want to let go. He never wanted to depart from you. Like if he let go you would slip away from him or something. He didn’t even pay attention to the movie. All he could think of was you, you, you. How much he wanted you, how much he NEEDED you! How much happier you would be with him rather than with that lowlife you called your “boyfriend”. Well not any more. Tom was going to make sure that imbecile never got close to you again. But for now, he wanted to stay like this. Holding onto your hand as you rested on each other. Sadly, he couldn’t stay like that forever. The movie did eventually end. And so, did your embrace.

You rose up and stretched your body, letting out a small grunt as you did. “That was great! What did you think?” You asked him. At this point Tom felt a small rush of panic flow through his body. But luckily, he was able to hide it. “It was a very cute film yes, yes! I certainly understand why you like it so much.” He said as he gave you a smile. A smile which you returned. Oh how cute you looked when you smiled. Tom wanted that smile all to himself. He didn’t want anyone else to see it. “We should do this more often. It was really nice. Thank you for taking my mind off....Jamie....” as you said his name your voice became meek and barely audible. It felt as if all the sadness that had gone away suddenly flushed over you like a tsunami. “We....we used to have movie nights on Fridays....he would always suggest such good movies and I....I....” your eyes started to sting as your vision got blurry. Tom was quick to notice this and swiftly pulled you into his arms. “Oh honey...” you started to cry. You cried on Toms shoulder as he stroked your hair all while whispering small coos and words of comfort. “Shhh. Shhh. It’s okay. It’s alright.” You let out hiccups and sniffles as the tears kept flowing. “...I’m...I’m sorry.” You said as you started to shake. “Don’t apologise. You’ve done nothing wrong my dear.” “I’m making you sit here and- and listen to all my personal problems! It’s- it’s not okay!” You didn’t want to be so weak in front of him. You knew he wouldn’t judge. He was the last person to judge you. But you still felt so...pathetic. “Y/N. It’s okay to cry. It’s how we deal with things like this. If we hold it back, we’ll just end up more hurt in the long run. So please. Let yourself cry. It’s not bad or weak. It’s how almost everyone deals with being hurt.” What he said was the truth. You knew that it was the truth. But hearing Tom say it. It was like a confirmation. And so, you let your tears flow. You sat there in Toms arms for what felt like hours. Crying and crying until the tears ran out. At that point you were still shivering and gasping for air.

Tom departed from you, holding your shoulders and making you look at him in the eyes. “Now Y/N, I want you to know. That if that guy left you, he’s made the biggest mistake of his life. Because you are a smart, wonderful, fun and beautiful/handsome/stylish girl/boy/person. And frankly, if he can’t see that, then he’s not worth your time. Anyone would kill to be with you. And if he’s to blind to realise what’s in front of him, then that’s his problem and not yours.” Tom said to you, never breaking eye contact. His eyes were stern and yet his grip was soft. He used one of his hands to wipe away any remaining tears that were still on your face. The two of you stared at each other for a few seconds. Both feeling drawn to each other. Soon, you both slowly started to lean towards each other. Both very unsure what to do. As your noses were mere centimetres from each other, Toms eyes felt heavier. He leaned closer and...no...no this wasn’t right. He let go and pulled back. Feeling disgusted with himself that he would ever do something like that. You were emotionally vulnerable right now. He couldn’t take advantage of that. No matter if his intentions were pure or not.

“I’m...I’m so sorry Y/N. That- that was inappropriate of me. I didn’t mean- I just- I’m so-“ but just like before, he couldn’t doubt himself any more as you wrapped your arms around his shoulders and connected the space between you. Sealing your lips together. Tom felt his heart practically explode as you did this and it didn’t take long for him to kiss you back. Wrapping himself around you as his ears puffed up. This. This was the point of no return. You’ve burned any and all bridges that were connected to you two being just friends. There had always been a certain tension between you two. But now? Now all that tension was releasing. And there was nothing stopping it. Toms grasp on you was tight. Like he wasn’t gonna let you go in a million years. You managed to do something to him that not many people could do. You brought out his animalistic instincts. He wanted to protect you. Be with you. Make you his. He thought that what he did to your past boyfriend was the thing that broke out his inner animal. But this? As he held onto you, he felt that animalistic feeling but ten times stronger. He couldn’t hold it back. He wouldn’t hold it back. He felt his hands start to trail up and down your body. But before he could do anything else he managed to stop himself long enough to break the kiss. He looked at you, his eyes intense. You had never seen him like this before. But the look in his eyes told you exactly what he was thinking. And so, with a small smile. You nodded. And all hell broke loose in Toms mind. He didn’t wait for one more second. He pulled you down to the bed with him. The two of you continued where you left off. Tom knew he could come off as intimidating, but he was gonna be as careful as he possibly could. You lied on your back, looking up at him. Tom took his hand and placed it on top of yours. This was happening. Tom was gonna make you his.

His darling. His mate. His Y/N.

////////////////////

So yeah....sorry to the anon if you wanted this to be fluffy, my caveman brain took over lol. But man. My first suggestive fic. Everyday I get one step closer to writing Tom Nook in heat (I’m kidding).

[timothypines]

The Fire of Achilles (Essay)

“He was like a flame himself. He glittered, drew eyes.” (pg. 43, Miller) Throughout the novel The Song of Achilles by Madeline Miller and the epic poem The Iliad, Achilles is often compared to fire. In The Iliad he is referred to as “brilliant Achilles”—meaning to sparkle with light or luster; however, this comparison is not always positive, as the destructive side of fire is not forgotten when describing his unstoppable rage. The double-sided nature of fire perfectly encapsulates Achilles. The brightness and openness he emulates, much like the welcoming of a controlled fire, attracts the soldiers to him, while uncontrolled his rage can destroy armies like a forest fire pushed by rushing wind. But while most people can only see the war in him, the rage in him, he would never have gotten as far as he had without his gentle warmth.

The Song of Achilles shows much more of the softer side of Achilles’ flame, however, I do not think this makes Madeline Miller’s interpretation any more or less correct in the characterization of Achilles; rather, it deepens what is shown to us in The Iliad. In the early moments of the book (The Song of Achilles), it is shown that just as Achilles speaks his mind freely and absolutely, he expects the same from all others; this leads to him being overly trusting in many ways. “He said what he meant; he was puzzled if you did not. Some people might have mistaken this for simplicity. But is it not a sort of genius to cut always to the heart?” (pg. 44, Miller). This is seen in The Iliad also, in his rage against Agamemnon when the king refused to return the priest’s daughter after the priest offered ransom. Most would never speak such things against a king, but he did not fear a thing, no, he was completely honest with Agamemnon, reminding the king that it was he who was needed, he who was asked to fight, “It wasn’t the Trojan spearmen who brought me here to fight. The Trojans never did me damage… we all followed you, to please you, to fight for you, to win your honor back from the Trojans.” (pg. 82, Book 1: The Rage of Achilles, Homer). Yes, the dishonoring of him is what causes this great rage, but his honesty is part of that too. But even though this rage appears to come from unbreakable pride, I feel that it came not from a place of pride, but rather rage at Agamemnon for not being at all reasonable. While he keeps his honor close to him, he is not prideful of his abilities. “‘I will be the best warrior of my generation.’ It sounded like something a child would claim, in make-believe. But he said it as simply as if he were giving his name.” (pg. 38, Miller). In this sense, I agree with Miller’s interpretation of Achilles’ feeling in this moment and how even though his honor is important to him, he is not particularly prideful. This rage, I feel, comes more from a great feeling of unfairness, which Achilles seems to value more than anyone else in the army. Agamemnon made the mistake of not returning the priest’s daughter, out of his unyielding pride, and now he is unwilling to admit to his mistake and is instead punishing Achilles, who was the only one trying to end the great plague. I am in no way saying that Achilles’ actions to call the gods to punish the entire army so relentlessly were justified, however, his feelings of rage toward Agamemnon cannot be blamed on just himself, and therefore, neither can the punishment that falls upon the army.

It seems silly to try to talk about Achilles and leave out what he loves most. Now, in The Iliad, before we get to the aftermath of the death of Patroclus, it could be fair to assume that what Achilles loves most is his honor; damage to his honor is what caused him to call for the army’s suffering and destruction, the very army he had been fighting with for nine years. However, it is very clear that after the death of Patroclus that it is he whom he loves most. Once Patroclus has died, Achilles does not care to act honorably, he does not care if Agamemnon apologizes, he simply wants the person who took his love from him to suffer. Even his own life does not seem precious to him anymore. For the brief moments that Patroclus is shown in the epic, his character is made very clear. He appears to be kind, gentle, to carry himself with a strong grace. No one has ill-will towards him; he is a good man universally in the eyes of the kings and soldiers. This is what makes his death so impactful. This version of Patroclus that we see in The Iliad I feel is lacking when reading The Song of Achilles. In the epic, Patroclus can fight, he is quite good at it and it does not feel a surprise, “And then and there the Achaeans might have taken Troy, her towering gates toppling under Patroclus’ power heading the vanguard, storming on with his spear.” (pg. 435, Book 16: Patroclus Fights and Dies, Homer). The Patroclus we find in The Song of Achilles is awkward, unwilling to fight, even just before this moment at Troy, “The wheels gave a little lurch, and I staggered, my spears rattling. ‘Balance them,’ he told me. ‘It will be easier.’ Everyone waited as I awkwardly transferred one spear to my left hand, swiping my helmet askew as I did so.” (pg. 327, Miller) When reading The Iliad, I felt none of this from Patroclus. While it may have been surprising that he ended up at the wall of Troy, it certainly wasn’t surprising that he had fought and fought well.  I will say that both works made it heart-wrenching to see Patroclus slaughtering people, however, the epic held more integrity than the novel had. This can especially be seen when Patroclus and Hector meet on the battlefield. This is the interaction we get from The Iliad, “‘Hector! Now is your time to glory to the skies… now the victory is yours. A gift of the son of Cronus, Zeus—Apollo too—they brought me down with all their deathless ease, they are the ones who tore the armor off my back… You came third, and all you could do was finish off my life…” (pg. 440, Book 16: Patroclus Fights and Dies, Homer). And this is what we get from The Song of Achilles, “He is coming to kill me. Hector… He must live because his life, I think as I scrape backwards over the grass, is the final dam before Achilles’ own blood will flow. Desperately, I turn to the men around me and scrabble at their knees. Please, I croak. Please.” (pg. 334-335, Miller). Although Achilles’ stubbornness killed both versions of Patroclus, at least in The Iliad Patroclus died strong in himself, while the Patroclus from The Song of Achilles died a shell, lacking any self, just filled with thoughts of the fire that is Achilles.

One thing that no version of the story could ever take away is how much Achilles loves Patroclus (even if they decide to make them simply cousins for some reason). It is devastating to read Achilles discover that his lover is dead; this is not lacking in either version of the war. Something I especially enjoyed from The Song of Achilles is how much more deeply Miller built the relationship. While reading I could really tell that Patroclus was Achilles’ heart; he was the only one who was immune to Achilles’ rage and the only one who had a chance of getting through to him. “I had found a way through the endless corridors of his pride and fury. I would save the men; I would save him from himself.” (pg. 325, Miller). The building of their relationship before this moment where Patroclus begs for Achilles to fight made for a deeper understanding as to why, after so long, after so much suffering of the Achaeans, Achilles was willing to do something to help, no matter what that was. In The Iliad we are given a mention of how close they are and that is supposed to reason Achilles’ willingness to bend slightly. This deeper understanding of their relationship also makes Achilles’ reaction to Patroclus’ death all the more painful to watch happen and his actions during the beginning of his morning also make more sense to the reader.

Achilles’ relationship with the war of Troy is somehow both extremely complicated and overly simple. It is complicated in terms of what he should bring into the war, what he owes Menelaus and Agamemnon, and how fate plays into it all. It is simple, however, when it comes to him having to perform the act of war itself. I feel that what Miller added to the story regarding this area really deepened and strengthened Achilles’ character; she really tried to show the struggle in Achilles when he was dealing with all of these complexities that came with the politics of the war, between both the mortals and gods. This is the war he was fated to have such a large part of; he was to kill the Trojan’s greatest hero, Hector. But fate isn’t the only thing forcing him to back and fight in the war against Troy, the Achaean kings he fights along side with also feel entitled to him and his abilities. In the end, however, Achilles does not feel attached to the war in actuality. “‘The Trojans never did me damage.’” (pg. 82, Book 1: The Rage of Achilles, Homer). He doesn’t hold any rage toward the Trojans, that is until Hector kills Patroclus, and even then, his true rage is only toward Hector, it is only the magnitude of it that takes down the mountains of Trojans he slaughters. He is in a war he was expected to be in simply because of that fact, he was expected to fight. When discussing the war with Patroclus, Patroclus asks if he is afraid to fight, Achilles answers, “‘No… This is what I was born for.’” (pg. 220, Miller). So, if he was fated to be in the war, the Achaeans can only win if he fights, and every Greek kingdom expects him to fight, then what does he owe to his fellow Greeks? To Menelaus and Agamemnon? Simply put, in reality he owes them nothing, his father doesn’t even force him to go, telling him it’s his choice (The Song of Achilles), however,  the issue and complexity doesn’t come from what he actually owes the kings, but from what they believe he owes them. Here are two interactions between Achilles and Agamemnon from both works. “Agamemnon stepped forward. He opened his hands in a gesture of welcome and stood regally expectant, waiting for the bows, obeisance, and oaths of loyalty he was owed. It was Achilles’ place to kneel and offer them. He did not kneel. He did not call out a greeting to the great king, or incline his head or offer a gift. He did nothing but stand straight, chin proudly lifted, before them all. Agamemnon’s jaw tightened.” (pg. 194, Miller). “‘This soldier wants to tower over the armies, he wants to rule over all, to lord it over all, give out orders to every man in sight. Well, there’s one, I trust, who will never yield to him! What if the everlasting gods have made a spearman of him? Have they entitled him to hurl abuse at me?’

‘Yes!’—blazing Achilles broke in quickly— ‘What a worthless, burnt-out coward I’d be called if I would submit to you and all your orders, whatever you blurt out.’” (pg. 87, Book 1: The Rage of Achilles, Homer). It doesn’t just matter what Achilles feels he owes Agamemnon because the king feels he is owed not only Achilles’ spear, but his total loyalty and an oath of such.

Despite this complexity with his motivations and responsibility to fight, when it comes to the fighting itself, it is as simple as breathing for him. As told in The Song of Achilles, “What he lived for were the charges, a cohort of men thundering towards him. There, amidst twenty stabbing swords he could finally, truly fight… With a fevered impossible grace he fought off ten, fifteen, twenty-five men. This, at last, is what I can really do.” (pg. 240, Miller). The war wasn’t truly a conflict for him, the true war was in the politics of men and gods; this notion agrees with what is shown in the epic.

While the men in power may not particularly like Achilles, the soldiers of the Achaean army do indeed, from the very beginning (at least in the interpretation that is The Song of Achilles). Here is the moment he introduces himself to the entire army, “‘I am Achilles, son of Peleus, god-born, best of the Greeks,’ he said. ‘I have come to bring you victory.’ A second startled silence, then the men roared their approval. Pride became us—heroes were never modest.” (pg. 194, Miller). Miller choosing to have the soldiers have these types of feelings towards Achilles makes sense. Up until the moment he declares he will no longer fight for the Achaeans, he is their hero, the one they look to and follow; in a society that values glory and heroes above almost all else, second only to the gods, he most-likely would have been viewed that way by the general public, those uninvolved in politics. An example of how deep this goes is shown just before the war begins, as the Phthians are sailing towards Troy’s beaches, “We stood at the prow with Phoinix and Automedon, watching the shore draw closer. Idly, Achilles tossed and caught his spear. The oarsmen had begun to set their strokes by it, the steady, repetitive slap of wood against his palm.” (pg. 212, Miller). Even subconsciously the men are following Achilles’ spear.

Achilles isn’t the only person for whom Miller develops a good relationship with the common soldiers—this  is done for Patroclus as well. I also agree with her decision to do this; it helps solidify the emotions the people feel toward Patroclus which are only mentioned and implied in The Iliad. Miller decided to make Patroclus a healer, “I developed a reputation, a standing in the camp. I was asked for, known for my quick hands and how little pain I caused… I began to surprise Achilles, calling out to these men as we walked through the camp. I was always gratified at how they would raise a hand in return, point to a scar that had healed over well.” (pg. 261, Miller). This use of his character makes sense in my mind when regarding the character shown to us in the epic; being a gentle and kind man. It also makes his motivations when trying to convince Achilles to fight all the more authentic, “All around me are men carrying fallen comrades, limping on makeshift crutches, or crawling through the sand, dragging broken limbs behind them. I know them—their torsos full of scars my ointments have packed and sealed.” (pg. 319, Miller). So, even though I do disapprove of Miller’s decision to make Patroclus seem too awkward and weak to fight, I cannot say her making a healer of Patroclus is without any merit. 

“What has Hector ever done to me?” This phrase is echoed throughout The Song of Achilles, creating a sort of foreshadowing sprinkled throughout the novel. This sentiment rings familiar from The Iliad where he expresses that he holds no feelings of hatred nor resentment towards the Trojans. The role that Hector plays in The Song of Achilles is slightly different than seen in the epic, though this is unsurprising as the novel is from the perspective of Patroclus and therefore cannot show much of Hector. Despite the lack of Hector, however, Miller included moments that are reminiscent of what we saw of Hector in The Iliad. Here is a domestic moment shared between Hector and his family when he returns from fighting, “shining Hector reached down for his son—but the boy recoiled, cringing against his nurse’s full breast, screaming out at the sight of his own father, terrified by the flashing bronze, the horsehair crest, the great ridge of the helmet nodding, bristling terror—so it struck his eyes. And his loving father laughed, his mother laughed as well, and glorious Hector, quickly lifting the helmet from his head, set it down on the ground, fiery in the sunlight, and raising his son he kissed him,” (pg. 211, Book 6: Hector Returns to Troy, Homer). Now here is a moment between Achilles and Patroclus when Achilles is coming back from battle, “I woke to his nose on mine, pressing insistently against me as I struggled from the webbing of my dreams. He smelled sharp and strange, and for a moment I was almost revolted at this creature that clung to me and shoved its face against mine. But then he sat back on his heels and was Achilles again.” (pg. 222, Miller). These are two moments of domesticity between warriors, great heroes, and the loved ones they returned to. In these moments war is more real, and it is harder to separate the men on the field and the men that return home. 

None the less, the phrase “what has Hector ever done to me?” is also meant to show Achilles’ active struggle against his fate that came with the war. He wants glory but is unwilling to make sacrifices to gain it. It is only once Hector does personally harm him by killing Patroclus that he does not care to avoid fate, in fact he does not care about glory or honor after this. In a way, it is Patroclus’ sacrifice that gives Achilles glory, which is ironic seeing as he does not fight for glory anymore, but revenge. This can be best seen in how he treats Hector’s body after he defeats him. “He rises at dawn to drag Hector’s body around the walls of the city for all of Troy to see. He does it again at midday, and again at evening. He does not see the Greeks begin to avert their eyes from him. He does not see the lips thinning in disapproval as he passes.” (pg. 346, Miller).  “The memories flooded over him, live tears flowing, and now he’d lie on his side, now flat on his back, now facedown again. At last he’d leap to his feet, wander in anguish, aimless along the surf, and dawn on dawn flaming over the sea and shore would find him pacing. Then he’d yoke his racing team to the chariot-harness, lash the corpse of Hector behind the car for dragging and haul him three times round the dead Patroclus’ tomb, and then he’d rest again in his tents and leave the body sprawled facedown in the dust. But Apollo pitied Hector—dead man though he was—and warded all corruption off from Hector’s corpse…” (pg. 589, Book 24: Achilles and Priam, Homer). In The Song of Achilles the Greeks, and gods, are not pleased. In The Iliad the gods see this as a disgrace. 

Where Achilles redeems himself greatly in The Iliad is not as significant in The Song of Achilles which left me extremely disappointed. The moment when Achilles is meant to show what a great character he is and how willing he is to forgive, even after such a significant loss, is in Book 24: Achilles and Priam. It is here when Priam and Achilles share a very vulnerable moment with each other in which they hold no contempt towards one another and the people they have taken from each other, but they cry, together, for the horrible losses they have endured in this long war. Miller makes this moment so much less vulnerable and emotional, making it feel significantly less important and character defining as it had been in the epic. Here is the moment as shared in The Iliad, “‘I put to my lips the hands of the man who killed my son.’ Those words stirred withing Achilles a deep desire to grieve for his own father. Taking the old man’s hand he gently moved him back. And overpowered by memory both men gave way to grief. Priam wept freely for man-killing Hector, throbbing, crouching before Achilles’ feet as Achilles wept himself, now for his father, now for Patroclus once again, and their sobbing rose and fell throughout the house.” (pg. 605, Book 24: Achilles and Priam, Homer). And this is the very same interaction as written in The Song of Achilles, “‘…it is worth my life, if there is a chance my son’s soul may be at rest.’ Achilles’ eyes fill; he looks away so the old man will not see.” (pg. 350, Miller). In Miller’s version there is not even a mention of the agreement that is come to in the epic that allows Priam to host a full funeral for Hector. This left Achilles feeling cold and unfeeling, which goes completely against his entire characterization in both the novel and the epic. For me, the watering down and diminishing of the conversation between Achilles and Priam was the biggest misstep in Miller’s novel and was a major disappointment especially since I felt she characterized Achilles so well for the majority of the novel.  

“His anger was incandescent, a fire under his skin.” (pg. 283, Miller) The comparing of Achilles to flame and fire strikes most true. He is never an emotionless man, never achieving a moment of utter stillness, instead he is always flickering under the surface. Even in times of calm he radiates warmth, and in times of great anger he rages in a great blaze. It is fire that is the perfect essence of Achilles. But this is what also makes him so controversial in the eyes of modern men. Some today still find themselves drawn to his wild flame and the brilliance of it, while others see the ash trails of his destruction and feel he is no good man, no hero. Achilles himself, I think, would agree with the sentiment that he isn’t a hero. In the end with Priam he felt shame for how he treated Hector’s body, his greatest love died because he couldn’t let go of his honor. In class people questioned why Achilles is remembered the hero and not Hector or Diomedes. I think Achilles achieved the fame he has because he is a good man who let his emotions drive him to do bad things, things looked down upon even in times of war. However, in the end, he redeems himself. He is a brilliant, shining character with intense emotions who manages to redeem himself—of course he has become the main hero of the story. Madeline Miller, in my opinion, did a very good job with the interpretation of his character, however, there were a few missteps with him and other things that were very important to his development. But despite these missteps, she has managed to bring Achilles’ light back into the lives of modern people, which is a wonderful thing. “As if he heard me, he smiled, and his face was like the sun.” (pg. 47, Miller)